I need a jiffy lube

Instead of doing a typical first blog introduction discussing how I’m a unique little snowflake (just like everyone else), I’m just going to jump right into my first rant.

Ever had a cock blocker? No, that’s not some new fangled toy (or maybe it is and I’m just not hip enough to know about it), it’s just that one “something” that works as your own personal chastity belt. It could range from kids, to parents, to drunken friends, to a dog that sits in the room making snorty piglet noises. Whatever it is, it seems to always be there to make sure you’re not gettin’ any. Anyway, my most current just happens to be my car.

My wife Jenn and I were married about a month and a half ago (it’s still not too late to send a gift) and have been spending our evenings (almost every) doing typical newlywed things. That is, we were, until we needed to take her car into the shop for some pretty simple body work (ironically enough). Since then we’ve had to carpool, using my Ford Escort that has a plethora of problems, the least of which is no AC and a driver’s side window that if you roll down takes about 20 minutes to creep back up. Her car, which was supposed to be done in a few days, is now been there for 3 full weeks, through this 100 plus degree heat wave. It takes her about 30 minutes to get from her work to come pick me up and another 30 for us to get home. How does the car issue relate to anything? Well by the time we get home we’re both tired, sweaty and on more than a few occasions just downright pissy.

For example, one night after a flurry of dirty little emails throughout the day, I snuck in for a kiss and she stared at me like I had just taken a crap in the middle of the floor, put a firm hand on my chest and said “Honey, I love you, but ewwww.”

That’s right… “Honey, I love you, but ewwww.”

You don’t really recover from that. There’s no “well, maybe if I romance her a bit…” You’re pretty much done at that point.

So it was then I decided that we needed a new car. I kinda loved not having a car payment, but the Escort would have taken more to fix up then it was worth at this point, so it had to go, like right now.

So Saturday we went out, and I purchased a PT Cruiser.

Yes, I, in fact, bought a car with the primary goal being to be able to have sex Monday through Friday. Is that sad or what?

The only hitch was that we had to be at the dealership at 9am on Saturday, and ended up doing all the paperwork stuff until our early dinner party across town at 4. We had a good time, (ok, Jenn had a good time. I listened to a bunch of strangers talk about people I didn’t know and topics that made me think things like “I wonder where they bought that ceiling fan?”) and Jenn had some wine, which is usually a really good sign that she may not even wait till we get home before somebody is at least partially naked . So we leave just a little early with the hope that we could break the drought (she’s calling it that now too) and on the way home she unfastens her seat belt, kicks back in the seat a little bit, turns to me and says…

“I feel soooo crampy.”

*sigh*