Living and Dying in 3/4 Time

[SIZE=5]So I bought a snow blower. Just wanted to get that out there. Confession time.

I don’t live in an area of heavy snow…allegedly. Mother Nature begs to differ on that one. The past few years have seen record level snow falls. I have dug myself out with nothing but a dinky shovel each year. By this time I’ve had it. Yes, I just parted ways with $800, but it will probably be the best money ever spent, with the exception of the $25 I dropped on a naughty toy that requires a lot of batteries…but I digress.

Sears. The Holy Land of all shit that I require now that I own my own home. The joys of owning your own piece of the American Dream. Pipes freeze. Ceiling collapse. Washer/dryer told me off. Boiler is squealing and belching black smoke. Need the ark to navigate the basement. Fuck me stupid and that was just last winter! Again, I digress. Sears.

I walk into their outdoor shit that I really have no idea what most of this shit is used for and ask for a snow blower. I keep the factoid that I’m from Florida to myself. This guy tries to sell me this little electric snow blower which will only handle 6-8 inches of the white crap at a time. He informs me that I will have to go out multiple times a night. I inform him that is not an option. He tells me not to worry; it’s not hard to push. I tell him that I can fit four cars in my drive way.

“Oh it won’t take you long at all!”

“Four cars, LENGTH wise.” We spend an awkward moment staring at each other.

“I’m the one pushing it. Do you really think that’s a good idea?” He looks at the floor. “How about that tractor looking thing over there?” It’s bright, shiny and red; I’m attracted to it, much in the same way I was to my car. It costs more, but it handles 14 inches of snow, has 24 inch clearance and is almost as wide as my car. We seal the deal.

Then comes the fun part. How do I get this monstrosity home? I know it comes in a box. But it comes fully assembled. I should be grateful for this. If you’ve ever seen me try to build a cabin out of Legos, you will understand why. My husband wants to put it in my car. I want to put him through the wall. He suggests tying it to the roof of my car. I suggested he take a long walk off a short pier. We ask about delivery. Seventy dollars to take a box half a mile. Hubby says he’ll just carry it down the road. I told him his disability insurance does not cover stupidity.

“Fine,” he responds, “I’ll just take it out of the box and push it down the road.”

Sweet Lord of Mercy. I 911 dial my friend Faith and beg her to allow me to borrow her father’s pervert van. If you’ve seen this thing, you’d understand. It’s large, has tinted windows, a bench seat and is only missing a sign that says, “Free Candy”. Looks legit to me, kids. Step right up to the pervert fan for the Michael Jackson Experience. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Flame me for it.

Today Faith pulls up in the pervert van (this is what we actually call it in real life). Mothers and small children find other places to be. It doesn’t help that she rolls up with the radio blaring, singing, “I don’t care where you live at, just turn around boy and let me hit that. Don’t be a little bitch with your chit-chat, just show me where your dick’s at.” Thank you Faith, the cops are en route to my house. “I just wanna dance with no pants on.” Check please.

It was a very short ride to Sears. We threw hubby in the back seat and forced him to listen to us sing bawdy Ke$ha songs the whole way. You should have seen him flee the pervert van. I told Faith this was retribution for the prolonged Star Wars monologue he gave me the previous night. A jury of my peers would not have convicted me if I actually did drive my car off the overpass. It was considered. As Faith and I sat in the van, rocking out, I notice a crowd of firemen about 50 feet away from us. They were dismantling a car for some odd reason. We actually turned the radio off to enjoy the view.

Hubby returns and has the snow blower in tow. Faith bails out to be helpful and open the back door. Door becomes stuck. As the firemen are settling down, all you hear is Faith holler, “Violence and heavy machinery! Awesome combination.” The firemen turn and stare at her. S’up guys? Now that she has your attention, can you take your shirts off? Thanks.

We make it home in the pervert van. I did not plan our route properly and we were forced to carry the red monstrosity up the drive way. Remember, four car lengths long. I jacked up my wrist a while back and I can’t carry my fair share, so Faith helps me. We’re forced to stop four times along the way. At one point we stop under the holly bush (tree? This thing has its own zip code) and Faith’s eyes get real big. She begins to stutter, then gives a sigh of relief.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing. It jumped off.”

The three of us continue our journey to Mount Doom, I mean, the garage. Afterwards I ask Faith what she had seen. While we were resting under the holly tree, a spider (read Shelob from the Lord of the Rings, it was a little larger than an American half dollar coin) had been fraternizing with my left boob. Well, Shelob, I hope it was good for you.

Later in the night I would talk to my step mom. She asked me what I was going to do with the snow blower. “Blow Snow” I tell her. Yup. First snow fall I am prepared to launch snow right back at the neighbors, the ones that like to leave their trash in my yard. Have some more snow, ass hats.

When you’re Living and Dying in ¾ Time, shit like this happens all the time. So tell me, have you ever had this much fun trying to buy a snow blower?[/SIZE]