This is the Chinese Ronald McDonald. Freaky.

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Post dated: about 5 weeks ago...

On my way back from Pearland - I met Kristin for dinner at Panera Bread, our favorite place - I decide to stop by the Galleria to get some more powder for my lovely little face. Well, I get stuck in traffic in 610 (duh.) and cars are doing the "roll down your window" motion to me. (FYI - I am in the Honda) I finally do this, and this man tells me my tire is quite flat. Fantastic.

I formulate a plan to solve the problem. This plan consists of me going to the Galleria to get my powder and then checking out the condition of my tire. So I park in the Green Garage. For those of you who don't frequent the Galleria and/or don't know the garage colors, the Green Garage is the secrete garage underneath Foley's. I check out the tire. It's low, real low, but not so low that I can't do my shopping and then go to the gas station to fill it up to get home.

I go into Foley's. I go to the Clinique counter. They don't have any powder. I say, WHAT? You don't got no powder? She say, No ma'am. We don't got no powder. So, I leave. I stop by 17,000 other other stores and I walk out with a pair of underwear. One pair.

I walk down to my car. At this point, the tire is real real flat. I decide to be a real independent woman and change my tire, because that is the "best" option. So, in the stagnant humid air of a parking garage in Houston, Texas, I jack up my car. I take off the lugnuts. I throw that flat puppy in the truck and pop the new little spare on there. A

fter I have sweat all the humidity back out again, I get in my car, covered in nasty car juice and start Lil' Ol Honda back up. We pull out of the parking space and bam! the spare goes flat. I mean, I haven't even started to go forward yet and the thing is already flat. Flat as a FountainView Cafe pancake I tell you. And those things are flat.

I get out of the car to inspect the damage. It's flat. Oh, yea, that was a surprise. So I get back in my car to comtemplate the options. I can:

1. put back on the "not quite as flat" full size tire
2. drive to a gas station on the axle or the spare
3. lock my keys in my car while it is running

I opted for option 3. It seemed like the best one. So, after an amusing, but long (and I am tired of typing this) story, the wrecker finally comes. It's late and I go to bed at 5:30. Great. But the wrecker can't fit into the garage. So they have to bring their locksmithing tools down into the garage where my car has been sitting, (on and alone - for I have been upstairs in the mall trying to use my phone) for the past 3 hours, to try to open the door. For some reason, this is a difficult task. Eventually, they open it. I have to drive it, on 3 wheels and an axle to the road, so that tow truck man can tow it to Discount Tire.

$135 later, I have one less car at home and one more car at Discount Tire.

(Thanks to Janelle for coming to get me and spending her very last dollar on a bottle of water for me. I owe you big time. )

So, by request, I shall record all of the "sit-com-esque" dramas that I deal with on a (hopefully decreasing) regualar basis. My life is crap. I mean, when was the last time YOU had to call a wrecker for your car? 5 years ago? Yea, I have 3 times in 3 months. So, I will catalog events that have occured previously just to catch you up to date, and then I will update you on a (hopefully decreasing) basis.

Sidenote: The flies in my house are large enough to eat my face.