Marrying George Clooney

we didn’t get our car.

nononononono. NO.

it had some leakage thing. they weren’t sure if it was a bad leakage. as in BAD. or just a minor thing, as in we changed the fluids and maybe it’s just a residue leakage thing. MUCH LESS THAN BAD.

so, they didn’t give our car back to us, they wanted to make sure everything was perfect. 100%. 100% PERFECT. when we – ken & i – walked into the dealership, all smiles & happy & excited – two people behind the service desk scurried away. they saw us, and darted to the nearest exit. fast, quick, gone. leaving our service guy to tell us the BAD news. but… but before he informed us, told us we weren’t driving our car home from “the hospital” … he handed ken a bottle of wine, “this is from the owner of the dealership,” and then the news, “there’s a bit of a leakage, we think it’s just the coolant from when we refilled, but we just wanna make sure when we give you back the car it’s 100% perfect.” ken didn’t take the bottle, he handed it back and said, “i’ll take the wine when i get the car.” and then ken left the dealership.

then the owner of the dealership came out of somewhere (god knows where) and sort of smiled and i could tell he was bracing himself for the amy shit storm, but i held it together, i did, i told him he should give me a new car, and as you can just imagine, that didn’t go over big. flatlined as soon as it was delivered. he squirmed. i didn’t.

he offered to have the car delivered to our house today. uh huh. that’ll make it all better. yep yep. yep.

so. now. we’re. waiting. today for them to deliver the car to our house. waiting.

waiting.

but we had to drive to the city that night. monday night in the oh so small & cramped miata. and as you can well imagine, the ride was pure hell. one more night in crampville. i do not like driving for two hours bent, with my knees almost touching my breasts. maybe when i was younger and more flexible. but as i think about it… i doubt it.  ken decided to take out his full blown aggression on the hairpin turns on the palisades parkway. zoom zoom zoom.  ZOOM. and

amy screamed bloody murder.

what the fuck are you doing going 50 miles an hour around a turn like that? you wanna kill us both? huh? huh? huh?

and then, the moment, the clincher – if there wasn’t enough anxiety, frustration, disappointment:

ken said he knew we weren’t getting the car back. he had an intuitive ‘feeling, moment.’ he knew we weren’t going to get the car. he felt it in HIS SOUL. he knew.

and with great calm, i asked: oh really? why didn’t you mention this to me? why did we drive an hour out of the way? what were you thinking? honey. sweetie. man oh man love of my life hunka hunka burnin’ love man…

huh?

and he said, i was afraid you’d tell me i was being too negative.

BAD FUCKING ANSWER … IN A BAD CAR, ON A BAD ROAD, WITH A BIG BAD ANGRY BITTER WIFE.

B.A.D.

zoom.