Shit, My Truck is Broken!!!!

That's right, my beloved Toyota Tacoma Prerunner is fricken' broken. I really loved that truck okay. And no, not in an unhealthy, freaky way. It's just that, I had always wanted a Toyota Truck and when I got this one, it was like all the planets were aligned. It was 4 door - so perfect for when I have to transport people. It was a truck so I could feel kinda rugged AND it was a Toyota, it was supposed to last me forever. Who the hell knew forever only meant 8 years.

Well, you may be asking at this point what's wrong with the truck. It has a hole in the engine. Yup. Hole. A hole means you have to replace the engine, you can't fix it. All in all, the engine plus another part, plus the labor would have cost me upwards of $10,000. Yeah, sucks. Major. When I first found out, I was so fricken pissed, but you know, can't dwell on the negatives. There were a bunch of positives to the situation that I'll have to fill you all in on later.

As for my truck, my uncle in Kona said that he wanted it and he would pay me for it - $4,000. Then I had the truck towed to my house from the shop and the tow truck guy offered me $5,000 for it. My uncle was cool with that so I'm just waiting on the tow truck guy to come and pay me and pick up the truck and it's aloha 'oe frankie. No more Toyota Tacoma. My truck's name is Kula, so of course, I had to have a shot on Saturday in memory of him. Bye Kula!

Beer + Greasy Food = Doots

I called Javier the other day and he sounded a little out of breath. I asked him what he was doing and he said he was walking back from the store but he had to call me back later. I was like ok. When he called me back, he said that he was breathing hard because he was super rushing to go home because had to take a doots. Before I go on , let me give you the background of this conversation. A couple weeks before, Javier had gone drinking (and he drank so much they lost one of his friends somewhere in some neighborhood - but that's for a different story). Suffice it to say, he drank alot. The next day, he was hungry and so he went to Burger King. After he ate, he had to take a massive dump (you know, the kind where you're sweating already). My brother calls it turtles - because the doots keeps poking it's head out of the hole. Yes, my brother is retarded. By the way, doots is DOO DOO in case you didn't know.

Anyways, Javier thought that something must have been bad in the burger because he was practically running home so he could drop a load. I said, no, it's a mixture of all that alcohol in your system and then you go and eat this greasy burger, no wonder your system went into full purge mode. And you know what? He had the nerve to argue with me. I'm like, hello, I'm always fricken right. You need to go back to girlfriend school and re-take that lesson. So, he was all disbelieving, thinking I was wrong and making stuff up. Then, we get to where this blog started. He had gone out drinking the night before - and drank alot again. Of course, the next day, he's hungry so he goes to KFC (because he's been avoiding the "bad" burgers at Burger King). Lo and behold, what happens? That's right - doots fest. So then he tells me, "Oh, sweety, you know, I think you might be right about that beer thing with greasy food." Uh huh. That's right. I was right....AGAIN. Men, make a mental note. When your wife/girlfriend gives you sage words of advice, just believe it. Because either I really was right or I have some girlfriend juju that will do things to you to make it seem like I'm right because if I, as a woman, were not right, that would just upset the whole balance of the universe.