I exaggerate. Gas isn't quite $4 a gallon; the gas I bought this morning was only $3.87. ONLY! I remember when I started driving, and had to gas up my mom's Ford Thunderbird. Gas was $1.25. On a bad week. My, how times have changed.
At 6:30 this morning I stopped to put gas in my vehicle and as the dollars ticked higher and higher, I felt something like a rain shower on top of my head. As I looked up, I noticed that a piece of the gas pump that connects the hose to the top of the unit was broken and gasoline was shooting out like a Bellagio fountain (sans the Andrea Bocelli soundtrack). There I stood, marinading in "Regular," mad that not only did I stink, but seeing all that gas pooling on the pavement was like flushing a wad of twenties down the toilet.
What's even worse, was that when I finally shut off the pump and hung up the nozzle, I went inside and told the lady, "Hey, your pump out there is broken and raining gas down onto people." She replied, "Oh yeah, I forgot to write that up the other day."
The other day?!?
I had just enough time to change my outfit this morning, but I probably wouldn't smell my hair until I can go home and wash it.
You ski. I ski. Hold on while I make this awkward.
10 years ago
2 comments:
Have you considered wearing tops with, "Fire Hazard" printed on them?
Yeah, is it bad if I put the outfit in the washer and hot dryer?
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