Be Livid Or Not

Ever have one of those days?

You know, when little things just go wrong and pile upon each other into a clusterfuck of chaos?

Just minutes ago I took my little car out for some gas, and discovered that my head unit just spits out my CDs and refuses to play anything. Never mind that Sony XPlode was the wrong choice for such a tiny car and drains the battery if I don't warm up the engine within three days. It's easy enough to get another Pioneer and call it a day - never mind that I'll be P10,000.00 poorer for it. But I must have music whenever I drive, or else I will XPlode.

But we were talking about clusterfucks.

This is the same car that I took to the LTO for early registration last Friday, only to discover that LTO had imposed some sort of quota for the emissions testing and I , at 1:00 p.m., had arrived just in time for the cutoff. This is also the selfsame car that badly needs a freon infusion, as driving with the top down in Manila heat is far more bearable - and I use that word as loosely as Paris Hilton's snatch - than being steamed alive with the canvas up. I'm keenly aware that sports cars weren't built for comfort, but I'm positive they weren't built for torture, either. (Oh, and fuck you, fahrvergnügen.) And since I don't tan so much as burn in the sun, I now look like my grandmother's camarón cocido.

I can't use the other car because something's wrong with the computer chip and the techies won't be able to take a look at the problem till tomorrow. And tomorrow is my mother's birthday and I am required, under pain of death, to spend the day in Alabang. My brother had spared me from complete and utter disownment by thoughtfully reminding me that ma mere's big day is tomorrow - after I had already set aside Monday to do my long-overdue billings, take the dogs to the vet, and have the casa guys assess how much the fucking Alfa will impoverish me further.

I remember I also happen to own a truck, but that's become a distant memory ever since my father commandeered it after seeing I have no more space in my garage. Never mind that he already has two cars of his own clogging his driveway - I guess no one really likes driving a Cefiro.

And I got a shitload of infuriating texts today on my dying cell phone, and averaged about 10 minutes lividly punching the wonky keys attempting lengthy, angry replies. I can only spew vitriol in complete sentences, using correct punctuation and grammar, so you can imagine how well that went. The touch screen function is dead, and I could only console myself with the satisfaction of taking a hammer to the goddamned thing after I secure a new phone. A new phone which should set me back anywhere from 20-40K.

And oh yeah, have I told you the doctor said I can't drink till next year?

So I think I'll just sit here waiting for the other shoe to drop.

With any luck, it'll land on my face.