Tuesday, September 09, 2008

I have another mantastic day. I solve mysteries. I can change the air filter in my truck. Trust me you want me on your side when it all goes down.

I am juiced. I have had a lot of caffeine today, but do not take what comes next as some kind of hallucination, as some kind of misperception of reality. I am mantastic. I can't help it. Get over it.

I took the truck to get an oil change. I got overcharged by three dollars. Walmart is a racket. According to the technicians who changed my oil several of my fluids where overfilled at the last oil change. My last oil change was at Walmart, though not the Walmart where I got my oil changed today. I wonder if I can sue. On the drive home a rock ricocheted at my window causing me to hear a loud cracking sound and so now I am wondering when the glass to my windshield is going to cave in. Even though the noise was loud and there were cars all around me I was able to safely keep control of the vehicle and prevent any further damage or accidents.

The walmart printout told me that I needed to get my air filter replaced. If there is one thing I think I know how to do it is replace an air filter.


Even a girl should be able to replace her air filter. If you take a car into the repair shop and they say they want to charge you money for replacing your air filter I want you to look them straight in the face and tell them to fuck off.

You can replace an air filter even if you don't know where your current air filter is housed. I did. So I know you can do it. I will teach you. I walked into the Auto Zone and asked the attendant to look up the type of air filter I needed for my truck. All you need to know is the year, make and model of your vehicle. If you don't know this ask your dad or your boyfriend. Or just go look at the trunk of your car. It will say something like 2009 Honda fit or something gay like that.

Once you have the replacement air filter, spotting the air filter housing is easy. Most of the times the air filter is right on top of the engine in a round container. At least it was in all my dad's old cars and trucks. It usually has a a screw on top that you can loosen and the top lifts right off. You will not likely need any tools for this.

But sometimes it is more tricky. Use the shape of the replacement air filter and compare it to the objects under the hood of your car. My air filter was located on the left hand side against the wall of the engine compartment. (see photo) The air filter compartment had two hooks that needed to be unlatched and then the compartment needed to be detached from the other side. When I did this the air filter was exposed. I took it out and the technician was correct. The filter was massively dirty. It was dirty despite the fact that the Mormon mechanic Card Shark trusts was supposed to have changed it a few months back. Unlike the rather naive Card Shark, I do not trust mormons to do repair work for me as I am not a mormon and mormons only look after their own. It looked as if the filter had been there for some time. I replaced the white filter with an orange Fram CA 9563 heavy duty air filter. This air filter kicks ass. It promised to be twice as good as my puny 1 year normal duty air filter. Cost was $14.99 plus tax.

What you don't want to read is my review of my oil change if you work in the Walmart corporate office.

Oil change was 36 dollars and included 10 ball point pens for 44 cents (nice sale), a large container of knock off Oil of Olay body wash, and one of those gay scrubby things I pretend I don't use to scrub away the rough skin I get for being manly by working on my truck and using rough pumice soap to get the grease off my hands. I repeat that I was over charged by three dollars for the oil change which was supposed to be 26.99, but inexplicable was priced at 29.99 on my receipt. In addition my windshield was not cleaned despite the fact that the service I pay for included it. The car was properly vacuumed. The front tires where inflated improperly to 35 inches despite the warning on the inside of the truck door requiring the front tires to be inflated to only 30 psi. 4.9 quarts of oil was added to the vehicle and the technician noted that at the last oil change (at walmart) the vehicle was over filled. I hope that is not bad. I have no idea if it is as it has nothing to do with air filters and changing air filters is all I know. Well that and changing batteries of course.

I solve Mysteries like I am one of the Scooby Do gang.

My time is being cut off. I must end this post abruptly.**

**I am back. I went down stairs and used my connections (I am mantastic like that) and got hooked up with an additional hour of Internet service. I know the library offers two hours of Internet service in one hour blocks a day. Most days waiting for the second reservation takes too long and I end up shuffling off to work with just an hour for online time. Today is my first day off in 15 days so I plan on using all this spare time to be online. I think I could probably get a third hour since my friend at work did not use my library card to get a reservation for me.

My computer is located across from a young woman wearing a blue tank top. She is either Native American, Mexican, or Indian. Either way she has tremendous cleavage. She is chewing bubble gum and I would place her age at 17 plus or minus 2. Her cleavage had a hint of a tan line suggesting that her natural color was less carmel than the exposed skin showed. I found that prospect to be alluring. I was reminded of a conversation I had with Card Shark last night while playing poker. We talked about how white people identify non-whites. I told him the secret to understanding how white people determine if you are white is that if you have any hint of color you are considered a colored person. I exposed my under arm to him and told him, "now this is white." I relayed to him a story about when I met my wife. She asked me if I could tell if she was Mexican when I first met her. I remember laughing at loud. "Of course I did." I told her while trying to catch my breath.

"It's just that I am light skinned." She replied. I think she was a bit hurt that I could not have mistaken her for being a white girl. She told me how her fellow Mexicans thought she looked white and did not accept her for being truly brown. I told her she had nothing to worry about as any white person could clearly see she was all Mexican. I think she took the news badly as I think my wife liked the idea that she could pass as a white girl. I know she liked that her married name (and her very white girl sounding first name) made everyone who met her for the first time believe they were going to meet a white girl.


I knocked a few times at the door. Fro's mom finally answered. She met me at the door fully dressed.* I guess that is what took her so long to answer. She let me know what is going on and so I have solved the mystery of the missing fro. He is no longer missing and is doing as well as can be expected.

*This is an inside joke among my friends. When I spoke to some of them about talking to the fro's mom they all wondered if she came to the door, "fully dressed?" I answered in the affirmative and I suppose that must be the reason my knocking took a full 4 minutes to get an answer.*

I knocked on the door for a few minutes without an answer and decided to give up. I walked back to the truck but then turned around and decided to give it another try. A shy voice asked me, "who's there?" I replied with my name and an assurance that I was a white person and some white people don't want to kill you. In the background of my mind I heard every song I know with the word "ghetto" in it. I was apprehensive that the door was taking so long to open. I looked around nervously from side to side at the neighborhood. A number of cars where parked on the grass in the house next to me. I drove past a house in the neighborhood that had a TV and couch on the front lawn. I tried to remain calm. I knew I had a duty to my best friend. I tried to remember that is was only 20 years ago that I too lived in this neighborhood, not 4 streets away. During the wait I took comfort knowing that I was good with mechanics and could replace an air filter. Surely anybody eyeing me from a distance could discern such a thing. I knew I could fit in here.

The door opened.

The inside of the house was exactly the same as it was during my teen years. We were never allowed inside the Fro's home as kids. I think he was embarrassed of how most of his siblings were nudists. The house is still cluttered with rows of romance novels. Enough romance novels to start a books store with. In fact more romance novels than most books stores would keep. All the novels have been read by the Fros' Mom over the years. She reads more romance novels than any other human I know. I would consider her a grand expert on the topic with an almost encyclopedic knowledge of them all. Wikipedia should get a hold of the Fro's mom.

Unfortunately her genius in regards to the genre of romance novels does not translate into a knowlede of cell phones. She cannot remember her phone number and can't pull up the contact function to write my number down. I do get her home phone number from her which was just an area code off from what I remembered the number to be in high school. I told the family that I would do my best to settle everything that is going on. I don't want the fro to stay lost forever. The fro has stated that I am able to move in at anytime and I can request a key from (I am unable to get L. (fro's mom) to tell me the name correctly). I am sure I could get a key from the owner of the condo. But Married Guy has suggested that his parents no longer posses the key. I will need to confirm that later.

I do have Mrs. Card Shark looking for apartments nearby my work and she has located a few starting around my budget of 400 dollars a month. I may end up in one of those depending on a number of factors which I won't get into despite the fact that I have not really fictionalized some of this enough and maybe some of you will get what is going on and I hope that none of the fro's friends are reading this because I don't want to piss him off, but as far as I know the only person who reads this blog who might know the fro is card shark and I am not sure how often any one else reads this blog.

Maybe if you know me in real life you will drop me an e-mail and tell me that you read the blog.


DCup said...

I refuse to learn how to do certain things because if I know how to do something, then I'm expected to do it. And if I can do everything myself - who needs men?

Say mystery machine again. It makes me hot.

Anonymous said...

I want my own super hero name! Or maybe villian?

Romius T. said...

mystery machine, are you excited?
oh and d-cup your plan only works if you got a man, what about all the chubby internet girls who read my blog who don't have a man (they never took up reading how to get an internet bf and need to change their air filter? i want to help them!

how about the anonymous superhero?

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