A week to...

UPDATE TO THIS UPDATE: I started this entry a week ago and got lazy.  I corrected the dates and such, but as you will soon see, it isn't as good a read because there was a St. Patrick's Day/Minette's Birthday Miracle that took place.  It ranks way up there with, like, Christ walking on water, or maybe when he fed a bunch of people with only a few fish sticks and some stale Wonder Bread.  Or maybe my favorite - when he turned water into a fine Southeast Australian Shiraz, which I am thinking about asking East Bay Water District to consider doing as well...


UPDATE: "A week to ten days" is what I was told two weeks ago by the FIAT corporate offices.  It was also what I was told one week ago when I called the local dealership to find out if they had any information on when my car would arrive.  "A week to ten days."  Four weeks ago, I was told by Mindy (or whoever the hell it was that answered the phone) that I should expect a call by the dealer "this week", which was three weeks ago ( which never happened) and delivery of the car "sometime in the spring of 2011".  Then she corrected herself and said "17 to 21 days".  I think I was getting the runaround.  Sofia has sort of mentioned that she has lost interest and/or faith.  Me?  I decided to just get used to it, and to think of it as something purely Italian.  Now the only thing I need to do is figure out just what the hell I mean by that statement.

"A week to ten days."  This is a photo that comes up when you search Google images for a week to ten days.

All the lying and deceiving that I went through came to an abrupt end.  Donna 468 finally arrive two days ago, and being the poster-child for procrastination (although Carley is probably a thousand times worse), I am now finally getting to writing about it here two days later.  It was truly a St. Patrick's Day/Minette's Birthday Miracle that was 6-7 long months in the making.  Months of obsessively searching on the internet for information, drunk-dialing FIAT corporate and the dealership - it can all come to and end.  Finally.

procrastinate  (prəʊˈkræstɪˌneɪt, prə-)
— vb
	to put off or defer (an action) until a later time; delay And by the way, she's perfect.

In other news, I have decided to take the plunge and apply for a new job.  I'm bored with my current job and need a change.  That's right.  Change.  I'm actually looking for change.  So stuff it!  (Those strong words are for all you people who say I have Asperger's.)  It's way too early to speculate as to what I may find as my new job, but if I have to go another year in my current position, you will find written on my tombstone sometime around mid-October of the next school year, "Here lies Mr. Lavoie.  He died of boredom.  That is all."  I am applying for a job within the same school district I already work for, however their on-line application process is redonculously long.  I started filling it out a week ago and I hope to finish it this weekend.  That's if I don't procrastinate.






Final thought: Curtis ate a blood orange last night before going to bed.  I woke up today with the kitchen looking like murder was afoot.  

I found it...

Again, a great idea.  Just not executed very well (in my humble opinion).

Update and Lesbarus...

UPDATE: I am getting tired of waiting for the FIAT, so I called their 800 number that is actually an 888 number again this morning to get the 411 on when I can expect the delivery of the FIAT.  Johnny, or whoever the guy was, assured me that the cars are all on trucks being delivered to the dealerships as we speak.  He said to expect a call this week to make arrangements for pickup.  I'll believe that when I get the call.  Sofia has already tuned in to something else as she has lost all hope of me ever seeing this car.

Take a gooooooood look at this photo...

And this photo...

And this photo.  Notice anything?  ANYTHING?

While I'm on the subject of automobiles, today I went with my friend Rosa to go car shopping.  She is in the market for a Lesbaru (Subaru), or possibly her friend-of-a-friend's Volkswagen Jetta.  My dear friend Sofia, always looking out for my best interest, told Rosa that I would be a great person to help her find a car, as I have made such reliable car purchases myself, including a 1989 Saab and soon-to-be said FIAT.  This makes me an undisputed expert on automobile quality and rational purchasing practices.  

This guy definitely drives a BMW.

Our first stop today was at BMW of San Francisco.  You could slice through the pretension with a knife the second you drove onto their lot.  I hate BMW drivers and the people who sell them to them.  Anyway, we were there for a Lesbaru from their used car collection stashed in the rear of the lot somewhere near the dumpster, I'm sure.   After the car almost didn't start, and right before we took the car for a test drive, Rosa had to pee.  Apparently at BMW of San Francisco, they make this a difficult task for their customers, as they themselves do not urinate or defecate.  Ever.  The bathrooms were located somewhere on the roof.  We test-drove the car.  Nothing of interest happened, and Rosa didn't buy this Lesbaru.  I did, however, find out that Rosa will not buy any car without knowing exactly when and if the timing belt and water pump had been replaced.  It is a deal-breaker if that information is not provided.  A real deal-breaker.  Really.

Possible deal-breaker.  But I'm not sure.

After the ordeal at BMW of San Francisco, we were going to Santa Cruz to check out more Lesbarus.  We picked Carley up along the way.  And of course, we had to ride the Giant Dipper at the Boardwalk.  Rosa bailed on that part because we told her she was going to be sitting alone because Carley and I wanted to make some kind of face for the camera on the ride and then purchase the picture to add to the stack of Giant Dipper photos we have from years past.  Unfortunately, I didn't care for this one although the idea was a good one.  In it, we were pretending to text on our phones while riding the roller coaster.  I think I was so hell-bent on holding my phone so tightly so as not to lose it, I wasn't thinking of the bigger picture - the picture.  Carley came out looking great.  I on the other hand look like an idiot.  And of course as I look for the photo to scan into the computer, I can't find it.  You'll just have to take my word for it.  Horrible.  Not my best work.

One of our more memorable rides.

We then went to check out two more Lesbarus.  One was sold just 1 hour prior to us arriving at the dealer - and of course, it was the one that Rosa said she would have bought right away.  Curses!  We then went to check out the last one on Rosa's list.  But, since the nice-enough-guy couldn't give Rosa the information she required (well you know...when and if the timing belt and water pump had been replaced), we left empty-handed.  My blood sugar was low, which means Cranky Matt was just around the corner.  And we all know how much fun it is to be around Cranky Matt.  So, we went for food.  We (by "we", I mean "I") were in the mood for some Round Table Pizza.  

I wonder what Subaru Rosie drives?  Cuz you know she does.

On our way home, instead of playing "punch buggy", we played "check out the driver of the Lesbarus".  I think it is safe to say that rug-munching is a prerequisite to purchasing a shiny Subaru.  That, or being Lucy, Tanya, Melnick, and probably soon-to-be Rosa.  I'm not starting any rumors or anything, but isn't it strange that all of these "straight" ladies all live in San Francisco (one currently in Bernal Heights, and one formally in the Castro), AND they were all compelled to purchase a Subaru.  Just some food for thought.  Perhaps I could interest you in some bearded clams?  Or maybe hair tacos?