Losing your car keys sucks

…I lost mine, my only set Friday night as I went back out to my car to grab some things I’d left in the front seat. I didn’t realize it until yesterday morning when I went out to get some coffee. I searched my apartment frantically. To add a turd to the punchbowl, yesterday was the first day we’ve had any good hot weather in months. It was sunny and clear and great for running in. Unfortunately, because of the frantic and irritating state I was in searching futily for the keys, I didn’t get a chance to run.

I was supposed to go to a friend’s luau and I did end up there late at night with my roommate’s car. I was pretty hammered within an hour of arriving. I guess it was a bad response to the stress of knowing that I would be paying close to $300 if not more for a new set of electronically equipped ignition keys. To me it just seems so strange that technology goes the extra step of making certain things that should be easy enough are certifiable pains in the ass.

What the fuck is the point of a remote or keyless car entry anyway when you can just open the doors with regular keys? If per chance your battery dies and you don’t have a door key with you, you can’t get into the car. Whereas if you just had an old fashioned key, you’d be able to get in. The same goes for those stupid computer chip enabled ignition keys. How does that make life any easier when I have to pay an assload of money to have it replaced.

With all these thoughts swirling through my head, I embarked on my friend’s party, making a few stops in my roommate’s Audi to pick up hamburger meat, wine and coffee.

I ended up drunk quickly, chatting up random folks I’d never seen and then eventually joining some strangers for a naked dip in the lake and a gratuitous naked walk to her jacuzzi where it seemed there at one point were eight people crammed in. It was nice to have that experience, although the soon-to-be-married girl who grabbed my, errr, well, you know what I mean, that was kinda weird. I politely declined. I was there for the stress relieving jet aimed at the middle of my back and the sight of breasts! I’d like to believe I behaved. Some people feigned irritation at the nakedness and others were just squares. Honestly, I didn’t care of someone saw my junk that night. I wasn’t showing it off to anyone but I also wasn’t hiding it. It was fun though.

Still, there’s the matter of the car keys, of which paying for will certainly cut in to my funds for my trip to California. My booze soaked brain lead me to spend a good portion of yesterday asleep. A short, funny sounding Englishman who does maintanence for my apartment has been over for the last two days, cutting a hole in the ceiling of our bathroom to let the steam escape. I’ll show some photos of the mold that has been accruing for the last, I don’t know, decade. It’s only taken three years for my landlord to get someone to fix it and when he finally does pay this gentleman, he sends him over without telling us. My dog is a spas, but luckily the Liverpudlian with the long hair and cut off concert t-shirts has two “bitches” of his own and ‘don min ya, Marcus, cause I know I’d put ya down wit me fists, I add to. Right, mate?”

I feel sorry for this guy. He’s cutting through our ceiling into an attic space that is certainly littered with dead squirrels and other animals.

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