I’m gonna throw myself under the bus here. I’ve mentioned before, (See the entry Pick Up Fuck), that I have an absentminded retardobrain. I wish I properly understood the inner workings of my wonderful noggin. But I do not. And believe me, it’s not for fucking lack of trying. I have spent time analyzing how I live. How I act. How I walk and talk and fucking breath.
And somehow I still trip up the fucking stairs. I still walk into fucking fire hydrants. I still stub my toe on something that’s not even fucking there.
It makes no sense to me. I don’t feel dumb. Or absentminded. I mean no lack of modesty, but I’m an intelligent guy. I know a lot of shit. It might sometimes not be the most practical shit. But I’m sure you can tell by my writing that I’m not a retard. Entirely. I hope. You don’t think I’m a retard do you?
Well if you do I’m not about to help myself.
So here’s my story.
A couple weeks ago or so, my Father says to me.
Dad: Rooster. There’s two jugs of windshield washer fluid in the front. You can take one.
Sick. I totally needed some windshield washer fluid. Whenever I run out I don’t remember to refill for like a week. So obviously, I forget for another couple days.
Couple days pass. And one morning as I zombie my way out the door I remember to grab a jug. Now you need to know, when I wake up. I’m fucking dead. If I’m absentminded when I’m awake, well, let’s multiply that fucking tenfold when I’m waking up. As if that will excuse my actions.
So this action is a stray from my morning routine. And in my morning state, I am entirely a fucking creature of habit. But this isn’t a difficult action. So I open my hood, fill the washer fluid tank, and head out.
Later in the day while I’m driving, I try and spray my windshield. And am entirely surprised to find it’s not working. And I’m like fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Another goddamned problem with my car? FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.
So I tell the rents of the newest automotive issue. And I make the mental note to call my mechanic once I remember to stop procrastinating. My mechanic, being PornStar. Who is probably right now hearing this story for the first time. But I totally procrastinated. Until one day. This occurred.
Dad: WHERE THE FUCK IS THE OTHER JUG OF MOTOR OIL!?
Hold on now. I know what you readers just realized. I’m getting there.
Dad: THERE WERE FUCKING TWO IN THE PORCH! WHERE’S THE SECOND ONE.
Now the first time it didn’t hit me. But the second time he said something. Well. The realization came. Oh it fucking came. And my mind must not have wanted to accept it at first. Because it still took a minute or so for me to make the goddamned connection.
Rooster: Oh no.
Dad: Seriously. Do you know what happened?
Rooster: Oh no.
My mother hears me say this at this point. And makes the connection fucking immediately. Her eyes widen and she looks at me in disbelief.
Mom: No. You didn’t……
I look at her with this hopeless look in my eyes. I can barely even fathom the mistake that I have made. How is this even possible.
Mom: MARTIN! MARTIN!
My father comes in the kitchen and looks at us. Me standing there looking entirely fucking lost. And my mother looking at him with wide eyes. As if in shock. And we didn’t even have to say anything for HIM to make the fucking connection. I look at him slowly and he’s looking at me with this tiny subtle smirk on his face. And he shakes his head and heads out the door.
Mom: Rooster. You know you’re the only one who could do this right? You’re never going to live this one down.
And she picks up her phone to call her best friend and tell her the news.
That’s right. In case YOU guys have not made the connection yet. I poured almost an entire jug of motor oil into the tub for windshield washer fluid. And fucked up the whole system. THIS is why it wouldn’t work when I tried to use it. BECAUSE IT’S FUCKING MOTOR OIL.
And the rents were hardly even surprised. Even though it is the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever done. It still only mildly surprised them. Because this is how their Son is.
And how did this affect me you ask? Well you might not be asking this. But I fucking was. I was fucking wrecked. How the fuck did I do this? How could I make this mistake? How am I fucking like this? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME!?
Seriously. I hate it. And I fucking cannot fucking figure it fucking out. I’m not a dumb person. I promise you. I KNOW WHAT WINDSHIELD WASHER FLUID LOOKS LIKE. I fucking know what motor oil looks like. I’ve had a car for fucking two years. I have filled those tanks over and over and over again.
Washer fluid is fucking BLUE. IT’S BLUE YOU STUPID FUCK!
This is what was going through my head when I realized what I had fucking done. I legitimately rethought my entire fucking life. I’m fucking broken. That must be it. I’m a broken fucking thing. Goddammit.
Anyways it boils down to me being an absentminded motherfuck. That morning I must have been so fucking tired that I saw the two bottles of motor oil. And all I remembered was my father saying there’s two bottles. So I just automatically grabbed one. I didn’t look at the label. I didn’t realize the bottle was gray. And even when I was pouring it. I fucking remember stopping to think. Why the fuck is it coming out so fucking slow. Like fucking syrup. But still I didn’t process that it was a clear fluid and not blue.
I just shrugged off the fucking doubt, and kept on pouring.
I wish this was all a valid excuse for being King Fucking Dumbass. But it’s not.
PornStar. You’re my mechanic. And I apologize so hard for my actions towards my vehicle. I am ashamed.
But look on the brightside my lovely readers. It took three hours for my father and I to drain and clean out the tank and everything associated. Sure. Now the motor for my washer fluid is fucked. But.
Father son bonding session! W00t.