Sockbiblefootheart!

Yesterday went something like this:

Big ol' shitty morning and afternoon. Chockfull of busy-ness. Finally time to leave for my chiro-adjustment and anatomy class. Go out to car. Notice back tire looks a wee bit low. Figure I might as well check it to avoid any major headaches on the road. Day suddenly turns into a lame-ass cartoon. Turn the little tire-nubbin so I can check the pressure with my gauge, and the whole nubbin just pulls right off in my hand, making the tire instantaneously deflate.

A fricking cartoon.

I try futilely to jam the damn thing back in with no luck, god only knows why as it is the equivalent of putting a toothpick up your pooter to keep your period from leaking out.

Spend the next 15 minutes jumping up and down on the tire-iron, trying to get the lug-nuts off with some sweet-ass leverage. Loosen two, but them bastardly air-tools that they use have rendered the other two immovable. Realize this finally, but not before the tire iron manages to actually pierce through the bottom of my shoe, somehow (thankfully) just barely missing out on piercing through my whole foot. You know how bibles every so often keep a bullet from piercing through someone's heart? Apparently my socks are that bible. And my foot is that heart. Sockbiblefootheart! Ah sweetness.

180+ lb. co-worker comes out and tries to help me loosen the lugnuts (because, yes, though I am a girl, I know how to change a tire, but no, my 120-lb. frame does not have the leverage necessary, apparently). Despite the fact that he's got at least 60 lbs. on me, he has no more luck in the leverage department.

Blessed be the mechanic nearby that senses my desperation over the phone and decides, since it's the end of the day, that he'll do a road call and change the tire for me with his very very large tire-iron (*waggling eyebrows*) and then patch the tire back up at the shop.

Needless to say, I end up missing my chiro-appointment. I also end up missing my anatomy class. I'm not really all that heartbroken about the latter really, given that it just means missing a class that has begun to grow increasingly and increasingly more difficult to bear for two hours.

Sample unbearability:

ME: So do we need to know the structure of the male hippopotamus's vagina for the test and stuff?

INSTRUCTOR: Um. I don't think so. No one *told* me you needed to know it.

(The next week, first question on the test: "What is the structure of the male hippopotamus's vagina?")

Sample unbearability #2:

ME: So I don't understand why I got #23 wrong when it clearly says in our More's anatomy book that the "superior attachment" for the internal intercostals is the inferior border of the superior rib?

INSTRUCTOR: Well, the test answer-key says it's the superior border of the inferior rib.

ME: Um, yeah. But the book says otherwise.

INSTRUCTOR: Well, the Tortorra anatomy book says what the test says.

ME: Um, so we're just supposed to know to memorize that one piece of information from the Tortorra book despite the fact that we've been using the More book all semester?

INSTRUCTOR: Well, the Tortorra book has the right answer in it. It's what you'll need to know for the state board exam.

ME: So seriously, you're not gonna give us credit for putting the answer that More has? Even though it's technically right?

INSTRUCTOR: *SIGH* I guess. I really probably shouldn't. But I will.

Yes. Probably a good thing I got the flat and ended up missing. Especially since my physiology midterm is tonight and I have the second half of that 22-hour seminar this weekend. *Sobbing just a little*

Man, how I wish I were a male hippopotamus's vagina right now. It would be a lot less stressful.