And since I drive almost forty miles to work, and the weather reports are now featuring the word “snow,” I think I’d better bite the bullet and get it done. I’m going to take it to Sam’s on Saturday, and tell ’em to hook me up.
I like Sam’s for tires, because they post a price, and that’s what it costs. Other places insist on pissing me off by adding fee upon fee (stem fee, mounting and balancing fee, disposal fee, revenue-enhancement fee, fee for adding fees, etc.) and completely changing the complexion of the whole deal.
At Sam’s, at least, you know what you’re getting yourself into. You might not like it, but you know where you stand.
Like I’ve said many times before, though, I hate spending money to get back to where I was yesterday. You know, like when the washing machine shits the bed, and that sort of thing? This isn’t exactly one of those situations, the tires will be newer and safer, but it’s close.
I mean, they’re tires. Hundreds of dollars for sharper, more luxurious grooves? It’s hard to work up a good enthusiasm for such a thing…
Pass the beer nuts.
When I was a kid there was a telephone number you could call, to find out what time it is. Is that not hilarious? And everybody used it. In fact, I still remember the number: 344-5111. Does it still work? Any Charleston area readers want to test it for me?
Nowadays, of course, it’s not too difficult to get the correct time. In most cases, in fact, it’s not even necessary for us to swivel our heads (thank God). It can be found on computers, cell phones, DVD players, the coffee maker, the kitchen stove, the toilet paper dispenser, a meat loaf sandwich…
But in a bygone era (the 1970s), the current time was more elusive and mysterious, I guess. And we had to make a series of telephone calls.
“The time is… four seventeen.” Wonder what happened to that woman? She always seemed a little smug to me, like she was lording it over us. But it was hard not to appreciate the way she milked the suspense, like Regis on Who Wants to Win a Substantial Amount of Money?, or whatever that show was called.
Many years ago there was a local “comedy” show on public television in our area, called Dick’s Half-Hour. I wrote two scripts for it, and one featured the “time lady,” being held hostage by the phone company.
She was kept in a room, you see, with nothing but a desk, a chair, and a phone. And they forced her to tell callers the correct time, 24 hours a day. The best part of the skit was when the door opened, someone yelled “food!” and threw in a sandwich bag.
I was supposed to be paid fifty dollars for this so-called humor, but I guess the check got lost in the mail?
And speaking of time, I’ve never worn a watch in my life. Is that unusual? Toney thinks it’s nuts, but I just don’t like things strapped to my body. Perhaps if I added a counter-weight to the other side? Yeah, I don’t think that’s really the problem…
I’ve been given several nice watches as gifts, especially during my high-flying record weasel years, but they’ve all gone into the flat drawer, above the underwear and socks. I have no interest whatsoever.
For a few days, many years ago, I bowed to social pressure and experimented with wearing a watch. And it’s just not for me. I might be convinced to tie a thermometer to my leg, but a clock on my forearm is out of the question.
And you know how I said the word “snow” was starting to work its way into local weather forecasts? Well, check this out. It’s not even November yet! I guess I shoulda bought those tires last weekend?
I need a little help with something… This morning, before I hoisted my heft off the platform, Toney says the power went off. Probably because of the heavy-ass snow weighing everything down. And when it came back up, her computer wouldn’t connect to the internet.
I have the cable going into the wireless router, then continuing directly into my machine. Her computer connects to the internet through an antennae-type device, and it’s been working perfectly for several years.
I fired up the laptop, and it connected to the network with no problem, so the router is working.
I think the antennae might’ve (as we say back home) blowed-up. When we plug it into a USB port, the computer recognizes something is there, but can’t figure out what it is. We’ve tried various ports, and it just doesn’t work. Also, the light on the device doesn’t stay on anymore.
It’s fried, isn’t it? Any ideas?
Finally, I’m going to leave you with a question from the Stealing Clive Bull’s Topics desk: What do you think is the best TV theme song? I’d have to go with Green Acres, The Addams Family, and Malcolm in the Middle. What do you think? Use the comments link below.
And I’m going to get ready for work now, and prepare to slip and slide my way to the office.
See ya tomorrow, I hope.