When I set off on this car buying odyssey, I was just expecting to get a nice car for a good price.

Little did I know I'd have to deal with credit unions, loan applications, insane waiting periods and the pressure of actually picking a fucking car. If my job doesn't kill me from stress, getting a new car surely will.

I honestly don't think I've ever been more nervous about anything in my entire life. I just want a fucking car. Four fucking wheels and a seat! I shouldn't have to spend every waking moment scared shitless.

Back when I was attending college (building my music collection, getting ignored by women, stressing out over little things...pretty much today, minus the college) and in the early years of my job, I would routinely take a trip down Main Street and shop for CDs and comics and then, enjoy a fattening lunch. I do that now, but getting there by car is somewhat different.

Today, I gave myself back a part of my misspent youth and took the train and buses to Main Street. There were no CDs of interest at the music store, but there were a number of interesting comics and I enjoyed a bacon cheeseburger and onion rings for lunch.

My apologies for being so vague, but my memory isn't nearly as sharp as I'd like it to be. Still, I'll soldier on with these 'Fuzzy Memories' of mine as a reminder of how things used to be.

Well, because of the car situation, I'm back to riding the bus. It's not so bad. After all, I've ridden the bus longer than I've driven a car, but still...for this brief period of bus travel, it's like I've lost one of my legs. Here's hoping for an imminent (and inexpensive) transplant.

Car trouble.

Yes, I have been away from this blog for a while. I wanted to post a 'Random Thoughts' post around Friday or Saturday last week, but I've been greatly preoccupied with something.

It started on Friday when I was driving to work. The car ride was far bumpier than I was used to. I was worried about what my father would say (it's more his car than mine, or was; more on that later), so I checked under the hood, even though I hadn't the first fucking clue what to do. I drove it home, hoping it would be nothing.

The following morning, Dad has me take the car around the block. The problem? The car seemed to have...sunk. (i.e. there was no space between the wheels and the frame of the car). I was worried a) that I had killed the car and b) it would cost more to repair than I possess.

I tend to worry far more than is necessary, so, for the next few days, before I can get it to a repair shop, I am sweating bullets about the car and what to do. Wednesday morning rolls around and I follow my mother to the repair shop. The guy theorizes that it could be the airbags that need replacing (according to my father, the car had air suspension and that it needed a few moments before driving so the airbags could fill up) and that they'd be $1500 each. I am freaking out until I check online that the car has two instead of the feared four. I could probably pay that off with a loan and credit.

Thursday after work, I get the news. It would cost $3800 to fix the car. However, this car was in existence for 16 years and the sides (and bottom, I would later learn) were rusted out, so spending all that money to repair a probably unfixable automobile would be downright foolish...and suicidal; apparently, the gas tank was likely to fall out. Pair that with sparks and kablooey! To borrow a line from Land of the Lost, "fascinating, but terrifying".

So...it seems that I'll have to eventualy get a new car. At the moment, I have no idea what kind of car I want (well, I'd love a Mini Cooper, but height and money issues are tripping me up). I just want something a) cheap and b) that will get me where I want to go. Hopefully, things will work out.

More good news: I don't think I'll have to cancel my trip to New York Comic-Con after all.

Saw Rise of the Planet of the Apes. Liked it very much. Not the point of this post.

In getting my snacks for the movie, this girl forgets to give me my soda and my change. The change was .25, but she gives me .75. "Stop whining! You got more money." As someone who works in customer service, I understand the importance of paying attention to my register, something that she didn't understand and will likely get her fired someday.

In leaving the parking lot, I try to drive out, but light construction work blocks my path. Two women linger around the only way out. Are they looking for a space? Under this assumption, I wave one of them past...something that takes her 30 seconds (at least) to figure out. The other just sits there, like she forgot everything about knowing how to drive.

In getting a birthday present for my da at Bed Bath and Beyond, I come across a doddering fool of a saleswoman. I ask her about a shower radio and she could not be any more vague. The best solution is to ask another employee for help. However, the joke's on me: there fucking aren't any!

Why is it that every other woman (non-related division) I run into seems to be in a never-ending competition for 'Biggest Twat in the History of Creation'? Is it too much to ask to associate with women who are smart, attentive and not-bad looking? That's not terribly unreasonable, is it?

It's always somewhat depressing to see 'Going Out of Business' signs on any building, but for a movie/music/reading lover like myself, the depression that sets in at seeing the signs littering a bookstore like Borders is especially indescribable.

While this doesn't hit me quite as hard as FYE's closing last year, it still hurts to think that, soon enough, this place I loved going to will be no more.

And if seeing the outside gets you down, wait until you get inside. Sales galore, but you're just overwhelmed by all the merchandise that's available.

When the inevitable final sale is made, what then? What will become of the location? Will someone utilize the market space for a similar business or (more commonly) will the building just become another vacant eyesore in a city choked with them?

I think I know the answer. I always know.