Un Mas Dia!

29 01 2007

Got a call from the dealer today. They want the car off the lot tomorrow so they can count in in their January numbers. They’re letting me take it and just pay them the money once the check comes in from the bank.


w00t!

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Ugh for Baby Steps

28 01 2007

God I feel like I have this car on layaway. Wednesday Joe, Wednesday….

I took the manual home today and read through it.

I have satellite radio for a few more months! How about that!





I Shall Name You… Bianca Jr.

28 01 2007

I actually haven’t decided on a name yet.

Went in to wash the car with my brother at the shop today so the guy cleaning it can focus on waxing the body and detailing the interior. She’s all clean now!




And I got my license plate reserved today:

3 more days, 3 more days…





Impulse Buy Indeed

27 01 2007

This afternoon I drove to my brother’s Volvo dealership in Ashburn to pick up some tickets for the Washington DC Auto Show. Upon arrival I found out he wasn’t in and was having lunch with my cousin who had bought a Volvo S40 that morning:

“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” he said, “I’ll meet you there. In the meantime, check out the white GTI that’s in the used car lot—came in yesterday as a trade-in.”

I pulled into the dealership’s used car lot and there it was. A white, 2006 VW GTI with Package #2 (leather, dual-zone climate control, sunroof, sat radio), and 18″ Hufweisen alloys:


If you know me, this is exactly the car I’ve been eyeing for months—spec’d out with exactly the options I wanted (I was debating either red or white). Apparently the gentleman that so graciously bought the car for his wife thinking it was what she wanted had to buy her a Volvo S40 since he made a huge mistake. The car was so new to the lot it wasn’t priced out yet, but I told my brother I would be interested if the price was right (the car brand new would sticker around $27,000—KBB for this particular year/options/mileage = $23,000).

One of the used car dealers recognized me from when I bartended the dealership’s office party and we chatted about the car. She ran in and grabbed the keys so I could take it for a spin. She also came out with a price quote of $21,500. Pretty good! I’m definitely interested now…

After a little spin around the neighborhood and meeting up with my brother, we brought the GTI into the shop for inspection.

Caveats:

  • Cracked windshield (Volvo will replace it before sale).
  • Small ding (about a dime’s size) on the front fender.
  • Two decals on the rear window (some radio station and an Apple, Inc. logo).

After a little post-inspection haggling, the sales manager offered it up for an even $21,000. Knowing they could turn around a car in this condition for much more, I decided that the picky wife’s loss was going to be my gain. I bought the car.

Hmph. I’ll be damned. I was just here for auto show tickets.

I’ve already got everything in order—waiting on a check from the bank and insurance stuff to come through—but I’m excited!

The car should be ready on Monday or Tuesday, and the following mods are already planned:

  • Tint (this will already be done actually on the day I pick it up)
  • Front plate removal (illegal schmillegal!)
  • Euro headlight switch (deactivates DRL, increased control of lighting functions)

One item still up for debate: Do I keep the Apple decal? 😛

Pictures and updates to come upon pickup of the new whip!

P.S. Added bonus, my prophecy came true (albeit after a year).

P.P.S. Ahhh! I can’t wait!





I Know What I’m Doing Tonight

23 01 2007

Even politics can be fun with the right amount of bourbon.


Boom.





What I’d Like to Call a Catastro-Fuck

21 01 2007

Late this past Saturday, I was happily tooling around on my lappy–chatting on IM, downloading some torrents, ripping a movie on to a DVD, watching another ripped movie, plugging away at an Excel sheet, and emailing a travel itinerary to some buds. You know, the usual.

When all of a sudden, inexplicably, the poor thing froze. No error messages, no beeps, no nothing. It was like I was that Japanese dude in Heroes and time stops. I look around to make sure I didn’t develop some new crazy powers, and verify that yes, my computer has frozen. But Macs don’t freeze! Ever faithful in my computer’s ability to get itself out of a jam, I went upstairs: dropped a deuce, popped open an Orangina, sucked on a Camel (the cigarette, not the nomadic desert creature).

Back downstairs, and still a frozen laptop. Sigh. I really wanted that DVD burned on the first try. I hate burning coasters. REBOOT! After restarting, it was running a bit slow, so I checked my activity monitor and all the memory usage numbers added up to a total of 1GB of RAM. I check my System Profiler (this sure is making out to be quite the geeky post ain’t it?) and sure enough my computer says I have 1GB of RAM (it should be saying I have 1.25GB).

I delve deeper and my compy says that one memory slot is holding my 1 gig memory chip (so far so good), but the bottom one is empty (where a 256k chip should have been sitting but apparently it was kidnapped). Long intro short, after a switcheroo of the two memory chips to be sure it was a bad slot (it was), and a quick skim of support forums confirming my suspicions, I had to resign myself to the fact that yes, a trip to the Apple store was in order.

I don’t know if you’ve been to an Apple store lately, but one of the drawbacks of the company’s newfound hipness is all the blazing idiots you have to deal with to get anything done in one. Being 3AM, I figure I can easily book a reservation for service at my local herding station/Apple store for the next day. They reset the reservation systems at midnight each day, so I figure I’d have my pick of the litter. Not so. The only slot left was at 4:30 on Sunday afternoon. Extended sigh.

Finish my movie, sleep in, and at 1PM the next afternoon I’m antsy and want my computer fixed. NOW. The snow is just beginning to fall as forecast, so I grab a quick breakfast, hop in the shower, and make my way to Clarendon to see if I can slide in with a ‘Genius’ before my appointment (I’ll get back to my thoughts on the dubious ‘Genius’ designation in due time). I figure that even if I do have to wait (I know I will), my car is at least in a garage instead of a driveway, so when the snow’s really coming down, I have nothing to brush off of the exterior.

My experience at the Genius Bar was relatively more painless than I thought it would be. I credit the weather and the fact that I did all the work in troubleshooting my problem the night before:

Genius: ‘It seems your main logic board may have gone bad. We’re gonna have to send it in for repair.’
Me: ‘Alright.’
Genius: ‘Are you prepared to have this computer away at our repair facility for 7 to 10 days?’
Me: ‘Yes.’
Genius: ‘Did you back up your important data in case we have to erase it?’
Me: ‘Last night when I knew I would have to show up here.’
Genius: ‘Your computer is past it’s warranty period. There will be a flat repair fee of $320 dollars.’
Me: ‘Die in a fire.’

Being in a relatively chipper mood though, I don’t put up much of a fuss, and sign the paperwork to get things done. But seriously, I had my CAR (a CAR!) in the shop for it’s 80k mile service and it only set me back a shade under $200 bucks. My computer, though, cost me $200 for the repair and another $120 for the labor. That really smarts no matter how you spin it. In one instance $200 got me an oil/filter change, tire rotation, spark plugs, air filters, fuel filters, new wipers, new brake fluid, and countless other things that come with an 80k mile tune-up. But here in Bizarro world I had to cough up over $300 for fixing something ironically called a ‘logic board.’ Logic indeed.

A bit deflated from my fleecing, I needed a pick-me-up. Preferably cheap. Instead of paying $4 for my parking, why don’t I just walk over to Whole Foods, spend the same amount of money on a Jamba Juice, get my parking validated, and head home? This sounds like a great idea Joe! Pat yourself on the back!

Except it’s Sunday afternoon. At a grocery store. Whole Foods no less. You are a fucktard Joe. Open your mouth up against a curb and ask some kind old lady to kick you in the back of the head.

I don’t know if you’ve been to a Whole Foods lately, but one of the drawbacks of the company’s newfound hipness is all the blazing idiots you have to deal with to get anything done in one (p.s. I love cut and paste). You would think that when you walk into a store that is known for promoting a more ‘healthy’ lifestyle and way of eating, that the majority of the people shopping there would be in shape.

You naive bitch. See, a gallon of Hagen Daaz and Chile con Queso dip is just as bad for you when you buy it at Whole Foods. Damn these fucking human abortions for riding a fad yet completely missing the point. At least you overpaid for your damn queso dip.

Total time to line up at Jamba Juice, place a smoothie order, wait for said order, and walk out with your dignity/sanity hanging on a thread? Roughly forty minutes. But you fucking know what? It was worth it. The first sip of my Caribbean Passion was totally refreshing and I was still in a good mood.

Walk back across the street to the parking garage (I even remembered to get my parking validated so pat on the back for that). Wait, that’s odd. Why is there a line of cars about fifteen or so deep? Why is no one moving? What’s all the honking about? Oh wait, that’s why: Some walking clitoris with gay shoes didn’t bring cash to pay for his parking and is holding up everyone else since of course, there is only one exit out of this particular garage. Said clitoris is currently on the phone with what I can assume is the managing company for this parking structure figuring out some sort of reimbursement strategy or payment plan.

You know what? I’m going to be a hero today:

Me: ‘How much does this twat owe?’
Parking Booth Lady: ‘Ten dollars.’
Me: ‘What was that?’
Parking Booth Lady: ‘Ten dollars.’
Me: ‘Die in a fire.’

Okay, no heroics today. Time for plan B which involves having a smoke and sipping on delicious delicious Jamba Juice while I wait for the herd to disperse. Throw my bag in the chair on the passenger’s side, and as I walk around to the driver’s side door, my thumb slips on some condensation on the cup. My smoothie… falls… to… the ground. And shatters. In front of like ten cars. I’ve had maybe seven or nine sips of this thing. Extended sigh. Time to finish this cigarette and head home. My mood is still not a bad one considering the circumstances, and I need to leave before things change.

Lastly, as I am prepping to leave, a middle-aged couple in a Golf parks in the open spot next to me. As I’m pulling away, the husband gets out of his car and slips on the remains of my smoothie. As I give Parking Booth Lady my validated ticket, I hope that the bad luck of my afternoon has transferred to that guy, like the haunted tape in The Ring. Oh well. There’s Orangina at home.

*This post was done on my old Dell desktop from my first year of college. Usually there would be screen-shots and photos, and a ticker-tape parade. Sorry, but I don’t have enough RAM on this computer to install the ticker-tape parade macro.