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Stayin’ Alive

Scenes from a garage.

So we replaced the front brake pads as requested."

"What about the noise and smoke coming from Golden Boy's ass?"

"We did blah blah blah but the real problem is your engine. Worn rings."

"Oh!"

"It will need to be rebuilt in the next six months."

"Hahaha! Haaaaaaaa! HA HA HA! Haaa!"

"What's so funny? The engine will have to be REBUILT! It will cost you a LOT OF MONEY!"

"Because it's just so hilarious when everything in your life goes arse up, all at once. Isn't it? ISN'T IT!?"

"Paying by cash or Visa today?"

This morning I drove my sister to her Interior Design class and the car sounded like a tractor coughing up a lung. Just fantastic. Or as I said to a friend last night, "Fuckety fuck."

Who says fuckety fuck? I know I heard that somewhere before. It just slipped out. If anyone knows where it came from please let me know.

What else can I do but laugh? The only other alternative is to fall in a screaming heap and I'm not going to do that! The shit keeps piling up around us and I choose to laugh this deranged eeeeeeeeeeeep kind of laugh and my eyes are all wide wild crazy-like and my jaw is permanently clenched. Or maybe that's just last nights margarita binge still haunting me.

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About Shauna Reid

Ahoy there! I’m an author, copywriter and old school blogger. I love telling stories about life and helping my clients to tell theirs. Find out more about me and how we can work together.


14 thoughts on “Stayin’ Alive

  1. don’t worry. i say ‘fuckity fuck’ as well, and i also have no idea why i say it. my only excuse is that it goes with ‘well that’s crappity-crap’ which i say way too often.

  2. Hm. You know, a thought just occurred to me. You sent me that Christmas card, and it went to my old addy, and Meredith was supposed to give it to me, but she took it home with her to St. Louis, and so here it is March, and I still have yet to receive it.
    Dear me, Shauna, I think you need a happy day. Just once! Just for a change of pace! PLEEEEEEEEASE!
    Thank you.

  3. Four Weddings and a Funeral. Hugh Grant wakes up, and realises he’s running late. He’s in a rush. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuckety Fuck!” (Is it just me, or is it normal to just forget the character’s name, and just call him Hugh Grant the hell anyway?) (Coming from London’s home counties, I can sound a bit like him on a good/bad day.)

    Anyway, worn piston rings, eh? Bummer. Certainly explains Golden Boy’s dirty flatulence. And you only recently finished buying him, too 🙁

    Anyway, it’s a good sign that you’re retaining your sense of humour during your trials and tribulations (or tribunals and traumas, even). At least, I think it’s a good sign…

  4. I believe that fuckity fuck may also have a bit of history in the Kevin Smith movies, although I don’t remember which one off hand – probably Clerks or Mallrats. hrm. I think I’ll watch Mallrats. Mallrats good.

  5. oi.

    i have been away for a week and have missed my daily doses of shaunyness greatly. just a note to tell you to keep it up with the eeeeeeeeing, and laugh in the face of .. dog-stealing, home wrecking home owners!

  6. Wherever else you might of got it, you definitely read it in that Della story I sent you – the one where Hershey has three minutes to shave.

  7. Time was, it were clawing at the sky and cackling insanely wide eyed spare haired for this lubber too. Ere winter comes, a safe harbourr shall present isself, arr! Cutlass!!

  8. It’s true: if one thing goes badly amuck, two or three others will too. While the flatmate started getting creepy and bastardly (so I’d HAVE to throw him out – tried and true male trick), which would cut badly into my income, the cat was diagnosed with cancer, my gallbladder started aching and the car airco started smelling. Fantastic.
    That’s when a bottle of red makes the difference between stark raving killer machinegun madness or quiet simpering self-pity.

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