Figures...

So whilst "networking" (snerk) at E's b'day I got hooked up with a last-minute movie gig that was shooting on Sunday. They needed dude's who could (or knew how) to fight as the scene they were filming required a modicum of com-bat. Cool. I'm into it. The director called my cell and left the call-time and directions, so everything seemed good to go.

I headed out nice and early in order to check in and see if there were any additional wardrobe choices that may be necessary. I'm trucking along to the shoot, easily winding my way through the freeway on this glorious gorgeous day in our fair capitol city. Still plenty of time. Do de doooooo, exiting...do deee doooooo, taking a right, do dee doooooo, down to one lane, do dee doooooo "WTF ROAD F#CKING CLOSED?!?!?!?!?)

See. There was this foot race* deal going on. Annnnnnnnd as luck would have it, it was blocking the very street I needed to go to. Everyone gridlocked and apparently freaked out. Some people were trying to do U-Turns to get out. Others just sat there...immobile. (Because "Road Closed" actually means "Brain-function Closed" too.) It was almost maudlynn. I waited, watching the clock tick down toward my call time. When I was finally freed, I found the detour sign that I prayed would take me towards my salvation. Well, if by "salvation" you mean a big fucking circle? I was in the promised land. Ohhhh, I let loose a stream of profanity that would've made a sailor blush. Couple that with the fact that the side streets of Stipples, when cars are lining both sides of the street? And that everybody, I mean EVERYbody coming toward me assumed they had the right of way (Seriously, I had to wait for 6...count'em 6 cars to pass by me before I could make any headway. Steam was coming out of my ear canal by this point.) Although I was not to be daunted. I felt that if I can get back on the freeway I could double back and come at the shoot location from the opposite direction. I'd be late, to be certain, but I would make it. That's about the point my "Check Engine" light came on**.

That's right pampies...after a few weeks of relatively frass free driving my car decideds to overheat the tranny again (RsVP will wanna know this next bit) See, when my engine gets hot and the tranny fluid gets to viscous it causes the tranny to slip. So what happens is I could literally floor the gas- The odometer will go up to, Ohhhhhh, 8,000 RPM's (Try revving you car when you're in "Park" until the rev becomes almost uncomfortable to listen to)

And my car won't go over 20 mph. At this point, I was worried about even getting home.

So I pulled over. I didn't have the director's number. I didn't have any #'s. So I called some folks to let'em know where I was and to vent a little (Thanks Mo and FeeJ. I'm a profane douche) I hobbled home, to my roommates eternal glee. For some sick reason, he gets a kick out of seeing me worked up.

I spent the rest of the day frassin' around the house. Getting PJ's finished before having Linzie and Mo-ped over for supper.

And that kids is how a guy who frasses on his blog about his castability has fate conspire against him in an effort to turn me into a homebody. Boo.


* I left early knowing full well that there was a footrace. I had an inkling it might be traffic-y, just not full on blocked off. Every time I tried to cross the street, at every block...Road-Freakin'-Closed. Crumbs.

** This part is funny. I made an appointment to bring my car in 2 weeks ago for this exact same problem. When I brought it to those same guys 5 months ago when I first started having tranny problems they didn't charge me, told me to by some tranny cleaner, and be on my way. Urgh. I'm gonna have to correct there logic this time.