A funny thing happened on the way back from Wal-Mart [Ode to an idiot]

Let me preface this entry by saying that this is another of my patented stories that go nowhere. If you're a friend of mine [and you are if you're reading this blog] then you know what I'm talking about. This is me venting my frustration in a hopefully humorous way. But this isn't going to be all that exciting, so if you have a prostitute waiting in the other room, but you decided that THIS would be more fun and important, go ahead and go back to her. You can read this blog any time, but herpes, well...you can only get herpes once. It's a special moment.

So, don't say I didn't warn you. Don't come back later and say, "But, Ryan, that story had no point to it. Why did I spend my time reading it?" Look, dumbass, I warned you from the beginning so save the drama for yo mama, fool!

So, with that out of the way, back to your regularly scheduled blogging:

There are many positive attributes about me: stunning good looks, indisputable and seemingly endless charm with the ladies, expert athleticism, the ability to burp the alphabet backwards while jumping up and down on one foot and helping an elderly woman across the street while also giving Heimlich to a dwarf. Yes, there is no disputing that I am a god.

Of course, no one is perfect, and what I do lack sometimes is common sense. You might say I'm an idiot [and you might be right.] Just earlier this week, I nearly set my house on fire [don't ask.] While that might be a bit too much idiocy for one blog [maybe later] I do have a short, pointless anecdote from today that I'd like to share. I know that the idea that I have even the slightest flaw is hard to believe [I could hardly believe it myself] but trust me on this one- I do.

So, I'm a very lazy person. After about, oh, I don't know- eight months, I finally dragged my lazy ass out of bed this morning and did the unthinkable: I washed my car.

My poor car has been baking in the sun, splattered in the carcasses of dead bugs and covered in dirt. It was about time that I actually did something about it [apparently, even if you wish REALLY HARD, the car will not eventually wash itself. Wish I had known that.]

So, I did what any honest, hard-working American would do, I went out there and washed that thing front to back. Then I checked my tire pressure. Then I went in and cleared out the inside [there are only so many old McDonald's bags one car can actually hold. Apparently that number is six hundred and nineteen. Who knew?]

Finally, after all that was done, and my back was fucking killing me, I decided that I would check my oil, because I heard on Bill O'Reilly that you're supposed to do that every once in awhile [God, that Bill O'Reilly knows EVERYTHING!]

So, I checked my oil and, low and behold, the car apparently doesn't oil itself either. Seriously, it's bad enough that we don't have flying cars yet [in the year 2006, for God's sake] but we can't actually make a car that does all the maintenance itself? This is all the democrats' fault.

So being the responsible car owner I am, I decided that I would head down to my local Wal-Mart and buy some. On my way out the door, my dad made the observation, "It's almost time for an oil change anyway, isn't it? Why don't you just get an oil change?" Well, see, I was going to get my legs waxed today, and it was either that or an oil change, so I decided I'd get my legs waxed. That, and I figured it would take too much time to change my oil, and the Sock Puppet Wrestling finals were on at three. I didn't have time for things like oil changes and bowel movements.

So I headed down to Wal-Mart, picked up the oil, dabbled in the auto department for awhile [as any self-respecting MAN would do] pretending that I knew what I was doing, and started my trek back home.

It was then that I decided to make a fateful stop at a gas station. Once my car was filled with the delicious fluid, I figured, what the hell, and decided to put the oil in right there.

Now, it should be noted, and it will become apparent why I'm mentioning this later, that I actually thought to myself "Maybe I should do this at home. I have margarine in the car that will melt." And I actually thought to myself these exact words: "Well, it will only take two minutes, I'm sure it will be fine."

So I pour the oil in, I grab the cap, and proceed to drop it STRAIGHT INTO THE ENGINE.

Oh, crap. Of course. Of course, of course, of FUCKING course. So, I'm looking in my engine, trying to see the damned thing [and, of course, I didn't have a flashlight in my car] and I can't see it.

So, now I'm thinking, "Ok, I'll just pull forward a little bit and dislodge it. Maybe it will fall out." Now, my brain, whom I ignore most of the time, jumps in and says, Wait! Maybe you shouldn't turn it on and move it, it could damage the car. I say to myself, "Naw, I'm sure it'll be fine for a few feet."

Nope. Now I've got oil sprayed everywhere under the hood.

So, I do what any self-respecting 23 year old man would do in a situation like this: I called my dad.

I mean, look: I'm all out of ideas here. I can't reach the thing, can't even see it, maybe he can give me some ideas. Maybe this has happened to him [though probably not, these things ALWAYS happen to me.]

He says, "Well, if you can't find it, you'll have to just buy another cap."

Of course, I don't have any cash on me.

So, he heads down there to bail me out [as usual], and as I'm waiting for him, like a dumbass, I decide to turn my car on. Because, you know, I wasn't fucked enough. And my hood was up, so now oil has sprayed all over my windshield. You know, the windshield I just got done cleaning an hour before.

So my dad gets there and the real fun begins. Within seconds, he looks inside my engine and can see the cap, just sitting there. He says to me, "Well, maybe we can find a long stick or something to push it out."

I look around, thinking to myself, "Goooood luck finding a stick long enough," but, sure enough, there is a long, wooden post just sitting right next to the gas station. What luck! Maybe I'll actually send God a Christmas card this year. Maybe he decided to stop messing with me.

Nope. The stick post thing doesn't fit. Crap. Well, at least she's laughing somewhere.

Ok, so then we decide to jack up the car, which means that I'm now laying on the concrete inside of the gas station, sticking my hand into the engine, and I manage to push the damn cap back further. And now my hand is completely covered in grease.

So we head down to the auto parts store up the street. Of course, they don't have a replacement cap. Fortunately, there's another store a little further up the street who does have it.

Great, now I've got a replacement cap, but what of the mysterious original that is now residing deep within the asshole of my engine? Never fear, dear readers, I did eventually get it out. I had to come home, jack up the car again and I was finally able to reach it.

Then I had to rewash my windshield. All in all, this whole process took somewhere around six hours.

Alls well that ends well, I suppose, but today has taught me something about life. Something very valuable, which I am going to hold onto for the rest of my life: I am never washing another fucking car ever again. The damn thing can rust and fall apart for all I care, it's just not worth it.