Mortgaging My Soul, Once Again

So I’m sure you’ve heard about Ann Coulter.

If not, feel free to watch this:

I’m not super shocked by her comment, she’s a dumb twat.  Yea, I called her that…I was going to go about and explain my situation and stance on it but, when you get right down to it, she’s a meaningless whore.

And in this particular YouTube posting, you’ll hear about all of the Democrats and Republicans denouncing what she said.  Which, rightly, they should.

But one thing that I was FLOORED by, and I’m glad that this news report mentions it, is that, when she made the fagot joke, everyone laughed.  Hell, a couple of people even CLAPPED!  The same people that spun around afterwards and denounced Ann and said that what she said was horridly offensive laughed AND CLAPPED!

If you walk around and spew slander, God speed, it just shows the world what a stupid cunt you are.  But don’t give her your support (time and time again by offering her the chance to speak *AND* offend people time and time again) but, when she actually says something offensive (and she does it time and time again, no SURPRISE!), you denounce her publicly, appeasing the media and your voters.

Please, for the love of God, Democrats and Republicans, pick a side, any side, and stick to your guns.  You’re allowed to have your opinion, even though mine is right, you’re always allowed to have your opinion.  But don’t change it depending on where you’re at or the mood you’re in.

God I hate politics. 

That phrase used as the title of this posting was the theme of this afternoon, uttered by my father, which, until today, I’ve never heard curse at all.

I think that him using foul language in any form shows you the depths of depravity that we went to today and how I’ll never be the same.

It was actually comical now that I think about it.  I was cleaning my sister Brandi’s apartment and, while pondering how to title this particular blog posting to keep myself from losing the small portion of my soul that I have left, I heard the phrase come out of my father’s mouth.  And, upon hearing it, I knew that it summed up our experience into just a couple words.

Now, before back peddling and starting from the beginning so that you guys may experience the true joys of what we went through today, I must mention two things before destroying your very psyche. 

1)  Children should not continue reading.  I’m serious.  If you’re under the age of 40, I would recommend not reading/viewing the photos.  And, if you’re over 40, I would consult a cardiologist prior to viewing the photos as it may cause, at the very least, heart palpitations.

2)  If you have any aversion to snot, vomit, dead bugs, shit, piss, or dirty tampons/pads, don’t even attempt to go any further.  Hell, just delete the bookmark that brought you here to begin with if this is the case, as this event will forever taint my blog and it will somehow infect you.

So, for those of you that decided that you’re big and brave enough to venture forward, you’re stupid…all of you!  Leave, leave NOW!

Ok…so, anyways, back to the story, at the beginning….

 For a more involved back story prior to today, please read my prior posting.

Essentially my parents have kicked her out of her apartment and my parents were left to clean up the mess of her apartment.  And, by the pictures that I will show you, you’ll come to grips with her nastiness.  So today it was up to my parents and I (and, at the very end, Mike) to clean the apartment.

Mom and I were making jokes before getting there about praying and meditating so that it would fortitude ourselves from the onslaught that was bound to happen when we walked through her apartment door.  However I was not prepared…not prepared at all…..

If the electricity was turned on and the room would have been real warm, the stench would have killed us.  However the smell wasn’t too bad considering the state of the apartment.  At the end of this posting I’ll put a link to the album so that you can view the photos.  I’m just describing it through text as I’m sure that some of you wouldn’t be able to stomach what the photos show.  At one point I almost vomited when I was in the bathroom….

But anyways, most of the destruction was trash.  A burrito from Taco Bell that only had one bite out of it laying on the living room floor, decomposing (and some moldy!) food in dishes scattered throughout the place, discarded peed-on clothing (not like she slept in the clothes and peed in it.  She piled up the clothing and then just pissed on it ’cause she’s too lazy to walk the 4 feet to the bathroom).  So we walk in and try to walk through the trash all over the floor and, basically, were having problems even getting to the bedroom.  So we decided to start working on the living room first.  It didn’t take us too long for the three of us to pick up the living room, as it was mostly trash laying all over the floor.  Like, it was so bad that I wasn’t super sure what color the carpet was.  Ohhh, the day beforehand she took everything she wanted out of the apartment but apparently she didn’t want her lesbian *and* straight porn.  Those were scattered around the chair and the tv.  Needless to say, dad threw them away, even though I called dibs on the lesbian porn!!!!

Ohhh, the scariest thing in the living room was the…unwrapped condom.  I wasn’t sure if it was used or not, I couldn’t even really tell.  I mean, the cum could have just dried up in the condom, I wasn’t super sure.  I didn’t wanna know.  We all had gloves on (compliments of the lab at the hospital that my mother works at….) and I wouldn’t even touch the condom WITH the gloves on.  I grabbed a peed on blanket and used that to grab the condoms and throw them away.

Gods…the horrors….I did things today that I never thought that I would do.

We then started in on the bedroom.  *shudders*

That’s where things got crazy.   Yea, you think you heard crazy but, lemme tell you, that’s NOTHING compared to what I have in store for you.  I told you, you should just close out of the damned browser and go to church and PRAY TO GOD to have your soul cleansed for reading my website.

But anyways, we get to the bedroom and she had a mountain of clothes on the bed and they were ALLLLL PEEEEDDDD ONNNNNNN!!!  The bed was soaked with pee and I just wanted to spin off into oblivion.  And just all of the crap all over the floors… So mom and I started in on the trash and dad started to bust up the furniture and take it out to the dumpster, as it was all destroyed/peed on.  I peered into the bathroom, scared for my very soul, and I saw an abundance of USED TAMPONS/PADS scattered throughout the floor.  At that point I could hear myself whimpering as the last of my soul started to slowly leak out of its physical shell.  I also noticed a plethora of Q-tips, used and scattered throughout the whole apartment.  I asked mom if she had some weird Q-tip fetish and she said that, even at home, she would clean her ears out constantly and discard the Q-tips all throughout the bathroom.  It got so bad she actually had to lock the Q-tips from Brandi.

Ohhh, I forgot to tell you that that apparently Brandi’s coochie smells Spring Fresh as she’s douched a couple of times.  Bonus.

I then went into the closet to start throwing out trash and I looked over to my right and noticed a trash can.  And, with all of the MOUNTAINS of trash that was surrounding it, there was only ONE SMALL THING IN THE TRASH CAN!  I MEAN, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!  ALL OF THAT FUCKING TRASH LAYING AROUND IT AND YOU TOOK THE ENERGY TO THROW THAT ONE THING AWAY?!??!

That was almost the end of me.

But wait, there’s more.

So, I’m picking up even more trash in the bedroom when I hear mom scream and stifle vomit.  I asked her what was wrong and I went into the bathroom where she was at and looked at the toilet where she opened up the toilet lid…

Now, a quick back story, my last post I mentioned that she hasn’t had any electricity or water since November.  And it’s March now…

Well, apparently not having water didn’t stop Brandi from shitting in the toilet.

Yea, you heard me.  There was, as my father put it, “petrified shit,” solidified in the toilet.

And then mom pulled opened the shower curtain and she was using that as her pissing can as there was piss stains throughout the tub and it reeked of piss.

We both ran out of the bathroom and deemed it a disaster zone and swore we would never go in there.  Well, I swore it before we saw all of that.  I told them when we walked into the apartment that I would do anything but I would not even step foot into the bathroom (well except to take pictures hehe).  I told them that I do many, many things but I did have my standards and small shreds of my dignity.   Well, at least dignity…well, I guess I have neither of those, but I wouldn’t play with her dirty maxi pads and shit.

So mom and I continued to play in the bedroom, picking up peed clothing and what not and I came across her bra…

Per my mother she would wear bras for months at a time until they would almost fall apart.  I never knew what that would do to a bra but I now know…

Gods I’m gonna need hypnosis…

It was this tan bra but the tops of it were completely black.  And…and….and…..

there were small dead black bugs inside of it.  At this point I lost all grips with reality.

I started screaming loudly, chanting over and over, “It burns, it burns, my soul is burning!!!!”  And it was….mark it down on you calendars boys and girls, today at 3:00 PM was the time that I truly lost my soul.  I thought I was truly soulless beforehand but I was terribly wrong!  Dad told me that everyone could hear me (ie the other tenants) but I didn’t care.  Hell, I hoped that the could hear me so that they could come down and at least feel pity on me….

So after my mental breakdown I found a fish bowl by her bed.  It was partially full of water and filled with fish poop.  I inspected the fish bowl, looking for a dead fish.  However I couldn’t find its body.  I’m assuming that the fish decomposed a long time ago or that she ate him as a midnight snack.  Judging from the opened and empty can of carrots that was on her headboard which she ate right out of the can, cold, and the multitude of chips/dip that was scattered all around her bed (the sour cream based dip…you know, that rots if outside of a refrigerator!!), I assume that the fish was consumed in a feeding frenzy, the likes of one that common people will never see.

After we got all of the garbage cleaned off of the floor, mom goes to the kitchen to clean out the fridge.  Like last time that she was there, there were dead small black bugs plastered all throughout the inside of the fridge.  Why, no one knows…..

While she’s cleaning that out and losing what’s left of her sanity, I start to vacuum the bedroom as it’s been picked up for the most part.  I then notice that dad decided to truly lose his soul and start cleaning the bathroom sink which had black sludge in it.  I felt sorry for him but the one thing that went through my mind was, “Better him then me.”  Yea, I’m not gonna win any “son of the year award” but, well, I do have a small measure of dignity.  So after he finished with the sink he went into the kitchen and grabbed a spoon.  Like, a tablespoon that you use to eat ice cream with or cereal.  And then he did it…

He started to scoop the petrified shit out of the toilet.  With a spoon that, tomorrow morning, you will use to eat your cereal.

Now notice that there was no smell from the shit because it was so hard and old.  However, when he started to dig in it, the smell was….beyond anything I’ve ever smelled.  It was the most unholy thing I’ve ever smelled in my life.  It smelled of shit and that ammonia solution that they use to do perms in salons, burning your throat and soul all at the same time.

Needless to say, I moved out of the bedroom for a short while to avoid that smell and went into the kitchen.

Whatever, you don’t know me!  Better Him Then Me!

So mom cleaned out the fridge of dead bugs and cleaned up most of the kitchen, I started sweeping the living room.

The landlord popped by and said that the place looked as good as when he gave it to Brandi, which was a HIGH compliment!  It took us about four hours which, thinking about it, it really only seemed like 2.  I think parts of it I was zoned out in my own little world.  Kind of like coma patients where the coma protects the brain from further damage…

So after the cleaning we went to this Mexican restaurant in Saint Marys.  That was our payment for help cleaning.  And the food sucked.  I could barely choke it down.  I decided that, as payment, Travis and Jessica get kicked out of the will and I’ll be the only beneficiary….

Needless to say, this day has completely blown.  I’m going out with my friend Melissa tonight to get myself plastered.  I think I’ll even grab a pack of cigs and smoke a couple and try to forget about what happened today…

Ohhh, and for your viewing pleasure, I created a photo album with the pictures that I took today.  Here’s the Link.  And, like i said, it may damage you, so you’re forewarned! 

So I was watching TV this evening, catching up on my DVR’ed shows, when I received a phone call from my father.  He asked me if I had anything going on this Saturday.  Now, normally I’m not this slow.  However I was bedazzled by a Will and Grace rerun and, without thinking, I said no.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

So, and keep this on the Down Low as no one outside of the immediate family is supposed to know until after Saturday (I know about the gossiping queens of Alabama!), my sister Brandi is being moved out of her apartment on Saturday.  The fun thing is that she doesn’t know anything about it.  And, strangely enough, I’m not sure she’ll know anything about it until after Saturday….

Here’s the scoop.  My parents and her are on the year lease due to her age/lack of credit being able to get an apartment by herself.  Her last month’s check bounced and she hasn’t paid February’s rent yet.  So my parents spoke with the owner of the apartment and, since he’s a nice guy, he won’t make them stay until the end of the lease, which is June I do believe.  He’ll let them out early.  So mom and dad said, heck yea, she’s out.  They’ve been forking money over left and right to cover her rent and her cell phone bill, which is an added line on their plan.

Now, mind you, she hasn’t been living at the apartment in quite some time.  Her electricity and water has been turned off for an obscene amount of time (like since November or something like that) and she’s been living with this Mexican family that she’s been sponging off of.  In essence she’s the dreaded White Trash, a much loved and admired sub-culture of the Caucasian class.

So now comes the therapy part.  For those close and dear to me, you’ve witnessed first hand her terribleness in regards to housecleaning.  We’re not talking just a slob.  I’ll take pictures when I go over on Saturday so that you can be consumed with jealousy that you were not there to witness the loveliness that I will be subjected to.  We’re talking decomposing food laying all over the floor, dead bugs in the fridge, dirty “sanitary napkins” (as my mother calls them) strewn all about the floor…the end is never within reach.

And we’re going in to clean the joint.  Without Brandi.  Armed with only our souls (or what’s left of mine), a mop, industrial gloves, rubber boots, and surgical masks, we will prevail against the darkness.  Sure, we won’t have water or electricity to aid us in our fight, but we will prevail against the stench and the torment!!

I have to remember to call my best friend Melissa’s brother to ask him if we can use his water.  He lives, literally, across the street from the apartment and hopefully we’ll be able to borrow his water so that we can clean the nasty ass place up!  I don’t even know how we’re going to sweep without electricity or use the carpet shampooer.

*sighs*

I’m not even sure what to do this with.

However, I told Travis that I got dibs on the Lesbian porn.  He laughed and asked why I got to keep it.  I told him that, even though I’m gayer then all get out, I still like to look at gin-gin occasionally.  That and, when they have kids, he’d have a hard time explaining that to his children if they would stumble across it.  The worst that would happen to me is if Zoie found it!  Or Mike!  *laughs*

So after dad poured this on me I asked him if he was going to pay for my therapy sessions.  Because, seriously, after witnessing such disasters, like Katrina, you’re bound to need some psychological work.  However he declined and said that, instead of therapy, he’ll treat for a nice lunch.

Great.  Now I can drool and smash my head repeatedly into the counter at McDonald’s while ordering off of their Value Menu.

How did I get so lucky? 

There are few times in a young man’s life where you witness true and utter stupidity.  Most things can be attributed to ignorance or a poor learning experience *waves hands around*.  However I can only think of a handful of events off of the top of my head where I’ve witnessed complete stupidity.

And he lives right across the street.  In the run down trailer.  He’s 100% American white trash and we all hate him.  I think he stays around just to annoy us.  For this post I will call him Idiot and not use his real name…mostly in part ’cause I can’t remember his real name.  Everyone just calls him Idiot or Numb Nuts.

So anyways, back to Idiot.  He’s never been truly bright but I’ve always attributed it towards his, well, low breeding and being raised in Louisiana.  I mean, every state is lower then God’s Country, aka Ohio, but Louisiana and Kentucky bring out some real winners.  Not that I’m saying that *EVERYONE* there is stupid…just a large majority.  For those of you that read my blog and love it, you’re one of the chosen few :).

So last evening after supper I go to take Zoie out to go to the bathroom.  We live right by this ally and I saw this car zooming right through it, scaring me to death as, typically, no one goes through there.  I then see this really big dog coming after us, drooling literally pouring off of its face.

Now while Zoie thinks she’s mighty and powerful and can take on God himself, she just can’t, way too freaking small.  So I pick her up, she’s freaking out and barking, and I tell the dog to take a hike.  He stops and looks at me with those stupid eyes and stupid drool and then Idiot gets out of the racing car and tells the dog to get in the car.  Well, I think that both the dog and Idiot were raised in Louisiana together because the dog just decided to sit there and eye the tasty morsel (aka Zoie).  So I went into the garage and watched.  Idiot, instead of getting out of his car, kept on calling for the dog and then the dog started to run off.  So Idiot was driving all over the block, trying to get the dog.

So I waited a couple of minutes, went back outside to get Zoie to go to the bathroom, and the dog was still loose.  Idiot decided that they would do Dog Corralling.  He never once got out of his car the whole time I was watching him (it was so amazing I watched him for 30 minutes doing this).  He and his two druggie buddies decided to use their cars to corral the stupid dog to his run down trailer.  It was…simply amazing.  He had several opportunities to get out of his car to get the dog but instead they all used their cars to nudge the dog closer to home.

The second time I took Zoie outside and the dog tried to eat her I told Idiot, “Maybe you should get your dog?”  To which he replied, screaming in a drunken rage, “What does it look like I’m doing?!  I’m TRYING!!!”  I then laugh, tell him he should get out of his car when trying to get his dog, and then run into the house, as I’m afraid for my life, as he has a history of violence according to the neighbors.  Well that and the tattooed teardrop speaks volumes.

So, the THIRD time that I tried to take Zoie outside he then yells at me, telling me, “Why are you taking your dog outside when you KNOW that I’m trying to get mine in?!”  I didn’t even reply to that, as he’s yelling at me while trying to corral his dog while at the same time trying not to hit it.

That, my friends, is 100% pure genius.

This is a lesson that there are reasons for Leash Laws.  I mean, Zoie has gotten off of my leash once or twice, don’t get me wrong, I know that happens.  But I don’t think he even owns a leash.  So he’s amazed when they actually go off of his property.

That type of mentality just makes me insanely jealous….. 

So Mike got home yesterday evening from his week long excursion to Wisconsin for work.  I was happy.  I always whine about needing my space and what not but, when it comes right down to it, I love having him around.

I mean, doing the dishes/laundry/cleaning was a bitch.

So I asked him about his winky and it looks like the cream is helping him, so that makes me very happy.  Still we can’t have sex for, what, 3 more weeks?  Well, actually, he can’t have sex for three weeks….

*ahem*

So his winky is doing lovely, they’re selling Girl Scout Cookies at his work place, all is right in the world.

Girl Scout Cookies.

It’s how they get little girls trained for the drug pushing/prostitution business.

They doll them up, put them in cute pig tails, put on that super hot short khaki outfits, force them to walk around town/selling them in *your* school playgrounds/working the sidewalks of Wal-Mart, peddling their addictive wares to the public.  They can even use the same catch phrases for selling cookies/prostitution/drug selling.

“Hey Mister, I’m really cute, would you like a small sample of my cookies/drugs/coochie.  You know you want to buy the whole box/kilo/’box’.”

And we do.  We want to buy boxes and boxes of Girl Scout cookies.  So many that we have to put the overflow into our freezers so that we’re stocked for the entire year.

Bastards.

Bastard marketing people, only selling Girl Scout cookies once a year.  Do you NOT realize that we go through withdraws every time that you take them from our crack addicted hands?!?!  I’m so hungry for Girl Scout cookies right now I’m actually salivating.  So hungry for Girl Scout cookie loveliness…..I would even give up Warcraft for a couple boxes.

Well, for a week.

A day maybe.

Fine, a couple hours.

Damn my addictions.  I’ll prolly be eating the whole box *WHILE* playing Warcraft!

My mother tells me that I have no self control and I’m coming to the realization that she’s probably right.  I’m just a gluttonous fat bastard that wants my cookies and eat it too! 

Yet I’m still the prettiest boy this side of the Mississippi River.

Yesterday afternoon I was at work and, after Travis left, I started to feel strange.  My throat started to hurt a wee bit and my stomach was doing flip flops.  O’ yea, and Jennifer’s favorite, I had snot pouring out my nose nonstop.  It stayed pretty much the same until I was sleeping last night.  I woke up and instantly threw myself out of bed, heading for the toilet as I thought I was gonna barf all over the place.  However my powerful stomach prevailed and I went back to sleep.

This morning I woke up, head all stuffed up, throat raw, body slightly hurting, headache…

Yet here I am, slaving away at work.

I would have stayed home yet Jessica’s great-grandmother of 107 years passed away this Sunday.  Today is the funeral.  So, while they are paying their final respects, I’m playing the martyr.

The pretty martyr.

So I’m thinking that, after Travis gets back from the funeral, I’m going home.  To get myself some Mrs. Grass soup with the Golden Egg (FYI, the best freaking soup in the entire world!!!  And it’s so easy, even *I* can make it!!!), curl up on the couch, and pray for death.

However, knowing my luck and how my pain and suffering sexually excites the gods, I’ll live.

Bastards! 

Sure, it probably won’t help, but what do I have to lose?

It’s snowing again today and, frankly, I’m getting tired of driving in it.

Melissa and I were going to go to Columbus today to meet a friend over there and do some hard core shopping.  However it was called off due to weather.  While my wallet is thanking me I’m just really bored with having to shovel all of this crap out of the driveway.

Our mailbox is still entrapped by a hill of snow.  I don’t have the crazy snow shoveling abilities to go through a drift that goes up past my knees.  I managed to shovel out a large section in front of the mailboxes but , in order for them to pull their vehicles up to the mailbox, they’ll need more then a vehicle’s length shoveled out.  I was amused to find out that the mail people won’t get out of their cars to toss it into the mailbox.  Well, not that I really blame them any; it’s too freaking cold.   So I asked the Post Master to forward the mail to the agency’s PO box until I’m able to either shovel it out of the way or the sun melts it.  We’ll see which one wins the race.

I really need to go to Wal…our local grocery store to pick up a few groceries.  However I don’t feel super inspired to drive on the roads when they have snow on it.  I guess I’ll just have to drink alcohol when I run out of bottled water.

That’ll be my excuse for becoming an alcoholic over the weekend.

Frosty the Snow Man made me do it.

No one will doubt me. 

Yesterday I came to two separate conclusions.

1)  God punishes the wicked.  Severely.  When your kids are young, tell them the scary stories about Evil Uncle Casey, his wicked ways, and how God struck him down.  Not the Biblical “God Smiting” stories.  Oh no, God kills you slowly.  I’m thinking that it’s his only form of amusement.

2)  Mike and I are not meant to have vehicles.  Not driving them mind you; owning them.

With my window being smashed in, Mike’s tire flying off, you would think that I would have learned these lessons by now.  But I was naive.  I just didn’t know.  So God, in his infinite humor, decided to teach me these two important lessons.

See my prior post about driving around after a blizzard. 

Now, while the roads were awful at times, I survived.  I made it to my driveway and jumped for joy; I lived!

Now, as a back story before I go on, our garage door is Satan’s handy work.  When it gets really cold, it only opens a quarter of the way.  So, when you hit the clicker, you have to run out to the garage door and help it up so that it makes it.  The bitch is being replaced this spring.

So, as it’s hovering around 0 degrees, I knew that it wouldn’t open by itself.  So I stop the vehicle, get my garage door clicker, and start to exit the vehicle.  Now, the next couple of seconds I’ll explain in a step by step sequence, as it’s utterly horrific and things like this needs broken down.

1)  I have one foot out of the door, the other on the brake.

2)  I let my foot of the brake.

3)  I neglected to put the vehicle in park beforehand.

4)  I was partially thrown out of the vehicle, my knee smashing into the driveway.

5)  I realized my stupidity, started screaming, “FUCK FUCK FUCK!”

6)  I threw myself back into the car and threw the vehicle into the park position.

7)  RIGHT before I put it into park, my vehicle hits the garage door.

8)  I scream out in pure and utter embarrassment from hitting my own garage door.

Now, my car only had a very minor scratch.  The garage door has a very minor dent in it.  You can barely see it.  It’s just funny ’cause this insured of ours did something very similar two weeks ago and I was making fun of her and “HOW could you hit your own garage door?!?!”   Apparently I was being punished for being a wicked person.

But, strangely enough, the garage door is working fine now.  It just needed a wee nudge to get it going.

Or maybe it’s just terrified that, if it doesn’t get it’s act together, I’ll ram my car THROUGH it!

Yes, even inanimate objects live in fear of my driving!

Flee, flee and don’t look back, as you may see me barreling towards you with my scratched vehicle and applying my lip balm.

*cackles and rubs his hands together* 

I did get something for Mike for Valentine’s Day.  Not JUST fungus on his winky!

I was called upon on Valentine’s Day to do a Holy Mission.  Travis was supposed to have flower’s delivered to the agency so that he can give it to Jess.  However, due to all of the snow in the driveway, there was no way that they could deliver it.  So he called upon me to run out to the florist to pick up his flowers.

Either that or he would have to sleep out with the dogs that evening.

And it was hovering around 0 degrees right after a blizzard.

Being the humane person that I am, I couldn’t do that to him.  So I risked life and limb and, coming up in a future post, my physical wellbeing, I went to the florist in town to pick it up for him.

So, while being there I picked up Mike this Valentine’s stuffed bear and this Valentine’s cup filled with chocolates.  I was pleased to know that I have saved Valentine’s Day.

It’s official.  I’m no longer the worst boyfriend in the world.

Except for the supposed fungus.

And the dent in the garage door.

But I’ll post later about my stupidity. 

This is my fourth post today.

It may not be my last, we’ll see.

Mike just called me and the mechanic that looked at his tire that fell off of his vehicle (see yesterday’s post) said that the reason why it came off was that the previous owner installed a non-factory rim onto his tires.  And, while doing this, he didn’t use the correct nuts and bolts and thingies (I have to apologize as I know, literally, nothing of cars except to turn them on and, apparently, have my window smashed in).  He said that the wheel will continue on falling off unless either a) Mike contacts the maker of the rim and they could possibly have a kit or b) buy new rims.

So Mike is now contacting the maker and also the mechanic to see which option would work best for us.  Personally, if the price is even close, I would rather see him just purchase new rims.  I’d rather him be safe then save a few dollars.

Of course, he does have quite a bit of life insurance…..

hrrmmmmm…..