mcgrew's Journal: -- The Batshit Crazy Vacation

Trying to get to know Bible Thumper Tammy a little better (as in "knowing in the biblical sense"), I decided to take a few days vacation from work. Now, what the Brits call a "holiday" we call a "vacation". Here, a holiday is a day where some people get off of work for, say, Martin Luther King's birthday, which state and federal employees get off. Lots of folks I know were off Monday.

I had no intention of vacating on my vacation, one day of which was some people's holiday. So there's no point in quibbling over whether I was on vacation or on holiday, as it was both. Of course, that's one holiday I have to take vacation time to get off.

The last day before my vacation Tami showed up with Amy. Tammy's car was in the shop for a few days, she'd said, so I thought it would be ok...

Amy wandered off so I left Tami on the couch and went to Felber's. Billy was there, and he looked dejected. His girlfriend had just gone to prison and he was going to be alone for the next three months.

Billie was there, too. I'd almost dated her before finding out she had hepatitis C. My old girlfriend Robyn had had that, it's a miracle I didn't catch it from her and I wasn't going to push my luck.

Gale was there, and he was his goofy self. I owe him at least a drink now; we'll get to Gale later. He looks like he moved to Springfield from Cool World, but he was probably born here like most of Springfield's cartoons.

The next morning Tami went to her boyfriend's and Amy went back to Connor. Tammy showed up not long after they left. We cuddled on the couch and smoked a little reefer and watched My Name Is Earl, a show she'd never seen. I went for beer, and when I got back I found my house was spotless. There wasn't a speck of dust in the place!

If something seems too good to be true, it usually is. That was my first hint that she was crazy; OCD. It reminded me of an episode of The Big Bang Theory where Sheldon broke into the cute chick's apartment and cleaned and organized it. Only in reverse.

I should have studied psychiatry, because people have a habit of telling me their deepest secrets. Especially after a few beers. I knew now that she wasn't just a little crazy; after all, you'd have to be a little crazy to want me. She was batshit insane. I saw bipolar disorder and hints of a possible dissociative identity disorder. She was, in short, pretty much like my ex-wife. There's a lot more (like a court date she had over threatening someone's life, for which she got court-ordered psychaitric treatment), but I'm afraid I can't talk about it. Sorry.

The last thing I needed was this. The next day her bipolar went off and so did she, stomping out over something extremely trivial. She tried to call and apologize but wound up threatening violence to Tami, who she thinks I'm in love with, and I hung up on her after telling her "you ought to stop thumping that bible and READ it".

Phew! I didn't get to know her in the biblical sense but that's probably a good thing; I dodged a bullet there. I went to Felbers and ordered a beer and a shot, and another, and another, and another, and called Connor's phone and got voice mail. I left a message asking him to apologize to Amy, as she'd wanted to stay a my place and I'd taken her to Connor's instead, despite the fact that they'd been fighting. I'd wanted to be alone with Tammy.

Amy called back, and she and Connor came to Felber's and she drove me home (despite her suspended license) while Connor followed. Amy and I drank a beer and Connor and I smoked some weed.

The next day Tami came by -- she'd broken up with her boyfriend, who'd thrown her out. We went to Felber's for a couple of beers and to let her cry on my shoulder. After a few beers she couldn't help but let me know they hadn't had sex in a long time. "Get me drunk enough and I might take care of that for you," I joked. "Get me drunk enough and I might let you," she replied. She must have been really needing it, because we aren't physically compatible; the two times we'd done it were painful. My tool's nothing to be ashamed of but I'm no porn star, but she's got the tiniest vagina I've ever put that thing in. They say "happiness is a tight pussy" but there's such a thing as too tight.

There's a cyborg in his seventies who just had a knee replacement who walks with a cane, and Tami offered to have me drive him home.

I didn't want to drive; I'd had a few beers too many by then, but Tami seemed pretty sober (despite the sexual innuendo). "You take him home," I said, detaching the ring with the ignition key from the other ring and handing it to her. Ten minutes later she was back; Bill lives only a few blocks from Felber's. This is a different Bill from Billy and Billie; Billy's about twenty years younger than me and Billie's a woman two years my junior. If the other Billy had been there it would have been even more confusing.

They'd gotten new t-shirts in, and I'd wanted one for a while so I bought one. Only in Springfield will you find a redneck bar in the ghetto. The back of the shirt has two playing cards, the king and duece of spades, with the logo "Got Guts?" Apparently "Guts" is some sort of card game.

Several beers later and we went to leave -- and Tami had lost the key.

We all figured it had to be in the bar, in the car, or between the bar and the car. Nobody could find it. So I sat down and got shitfaced before I walked home with Tami.

The next morning; well, it wasn't morning but it wasn't long after we woke up, we went to look for the key. It was nowhere to be found. I called the locksmith. Two hundred bucks for a key, ninety for the blank alone. It's one with an anti-theft chip in it, and I longed for the old cars from the sixties. Lose your key? No problem, three feet of wire to connect the battery to the coil and a pair of pliars to short the starter terminals was all you needed to drive home. With this new tech I'd have to have the car towed and pay a shitload of cash. Isn't technology wonderful?

I called the Chrysler dealer, and surprisingly it was far cheaper than the locksmith -- fifty bucks for the blank, seven to program it and a fifty dollar service charge. But I'd still have to have the car towed there. I called the towing service, owned by a guy who also drank at Felber's, an old friend of Felber's owner Mike. "It'll be an hour", he said. "No problem," I replied, "I'll just have a beer or two."

He showed up and there was another problem -- he couldn't tow it without a key!

"Without unlocking the ignition it'll ruin your transmission, and I'm not getting blamed for that."

I can't get a key without a tow, and I can't get a tow without a key. Damn!

"Look," I said, "I don't know what to do. Look, I'll sign a release taking responsibility for any damage." He capitulated and put it in the back of his truck. I was lucky; he dragged it up there without, as far as I can tell, hurting it. He, Tami, and I got in the cab of the truck and headed to the car dealer.

As we drove past where her boyfriend worked I said "I hope he doesn't see you with my arm around you."

"Doesn't matter," she said, "we're done." Yeah, I'd heard that one before.

We got to the dealer, I got out and went in to see about the key; they'd given me a price, said they had three blanks on hand, but what they didn't tell me was that they needed proof of ownership! Jesus H. Christ, who needs government bureaucracy when you can have corporate bureaucracy? Luckily enough government bureaucracy saved me. I had the registration in the car, as I needed to renew my license plates. Thinking back, even then government bureaucracy would have saved me, as the law says you have to have proof of insurance with you, and the VIN is on the insurance card.

I went out to pay the driver and my phone rang. "We found your key!" Gale had found it by where the car had been parked and taken it inside. The tow driver was just starting to get the car off the truck. "They found the key and these assholes are pissing me off", I said. "Lets just go back to Felber's and I'll get a spare cut somewhere else."

I'd bought the car there, as well as the brand new PT Cruiser that Evil-X had wanted so badly that I'd bought her two months before she'd left me, but Landmark Crysler just lost my business. Dumbasses.

He almost wrecked the tow truck on the way back.

What a vacation! I'm SO glad I have to work tomorrow...

----- eratta (edit)
I'm confusing Billie with another woman who looks a lot like her; the woman with Hepatitis C is named Debbie (I think, I haven't seen her in a while).