Thursday, December 31, 2009

Buying used just might kill you, or at least get you lynched..

So I decided to spare everyone my the self-pitied version of my Christmas, and just skip to the end. AFTER I finally made it back home from being stranded at my mother's house for three days due to the snow, I came home to my poor animals that had been alone during that time.

The dog had left little land mines and puddles all over the apartment. The cat (whom I assumed would be ok) seemed to be traumatized from being alone, and was quite angry with me. So, Merry Christmas to me: an apartment that seemed would forever smell like the inside of a dog...

I knew what I would be coming home to, in the way of animal excrement, so I had asked my mother if I could borrow her carpet cleaner. I asked my boyfriend if he would go pick it up from her house for me, and his reply was, "why don't I just go buy you one?"

This is his usual solution for most things, to just buy it and leave out the middle man... Plus I think he just wanted me to own one so I would no longer have an excuse for having dirty carpet....

Being that he was between paychecks at that moment, he asked me to look on to see if I could find a cheap used one in the area. I looked, found one, and called to make arrangements for him to go pick it up. Little did I know what I was sending him into...

I should probably take a moment to explain a few things....
My boyfriend is of Mexican decent. He speaks perfect English, with no accent whatsoever, but can easily be identified as such.
Also, the town I live in is what I like to refer to as a big-small town. We have malls, internet cafes, museums, performing arts centers, and our share of vastly expensive homes, but from any point in the town one is just a short drive from the nearest field, complete with cow and/or horse occupying it. We seem to be a little of everything and everyone. Midwest. South. Yuppy. Traditional. You name it, we have it.... and that goes for good ol' southern racism as well...

So anyhoo. I unknowingly send my Mexican boyfriend to the unofficial KKK inhabited neighborhood in our area... He arrived and was greeted by Mr. Good ol' boy himself. He was eyed as if he had, or would at any moment, rape their daughters and slit their throats. He was afraid to ask too many questions, as to give the appearance of doubt, so he just bought the machine as-is and proceeded to load it up. They gave him the (verbal) instructions for the machine, which consisted of using the term "a shots worth" as a form of liquid measurement.... Nice.

But, he was able to make it out alive. And in turn I now have clean carpets.

And I did feel compelled to follow instructions and use a shot glass for soap measurement... Vodka smell is better than dog-pee smell, right?


  1. Ahhh, the South, I can relate, for I am a Kentuckian myself... hehehe

  2. *sigh* yeah, its grand.... Where else can you go where the restaurants serve ranch dressing with everything, 90% of the cars still sport their McCain/Palin stickers, and the #1 pick-up line in the "rodeo" bars is; "You smell like the inside of my mamma's purse"... its good times.