Yesterday felt like a bad day.

I say "felt like" because I've upgraded to Helen 2.1, and this new version doesn't come with bad days. It comes with ponies, soft fluffy kittens (and kitten posters), and skipping down the pavement with an element of narcisisstic glee. So since my upgrade I'm the Newer, Happier Helen, and I don't do bad days.

Only yesterday might have been one.

The day started off innocently enough. I was due to head in to London at oh-God-hundred and drop off my limp and wheezing laptop to the company laptop doctor. Only once I got there, laptop doctor decided he'd rather do housecalls, and so he didn't even go in to the office.

I took a deep breath. Ok, that's fine. I'll just chill by going to Starbucks. I think I'll try...hmm, you know? Maybe I'll try a chai tea latte today. That'll be nice.

I get to the counter. "Hi, I'd like a tall skinny tai chi latte."

She looks confused.

"Sorry," I grin. "I mean can I have a tall skinny tai chi latte?" Fuuuuuck! Why won't this come out right?

"I don't understand," she replies, a thick Eastern European accent coming out.

Breathe deep, Hel. "I'd like a tall skinny chai tea latte, please. Whew! I said it. I bet people say it wrong all the time!" I laugh.

"No, you're the first I've heard," replies the woman.

Oh.

The drink comes out and I really enjoy it, up until the bottom third of the cup, and then the drink starts burning my throat badly-it's like gingerbread gone wrong or something. So I tip the rest out and head to my therapist's.

Therapy goes well. I show him that "inferior without consent" picture from Friday (and I feel a bit weird about my therapist seeing a part of my boob, but I'm sure he wasn't focussing on that part). He says it's huge and major and a great step forward.

I like my therapist.

I head back to the office to meet a colleague for lunch. I click on my Blackberry, as it's the only working email I have on me, what with the fried PC. I see two emails that pretty much immediately piss me off, and I decide: Hmmm. Today may be the day where I switch off and decide that I don't fucking care about these people anymore.

So I did.

I have lunch and then head home, only on the way home I have to stop by the gym and sign-up. I figured I could just ignore the annoying yoga posse and enjoy the programme. I signed up. I got into the car (the red Swedish shit-mobile car, the one we don't care about).

And this is really where it all turned to hell.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I heard a bang. As there were no other cars around me, I figured it was just some exterior noise or me hitting the curb or something, and I kept driving. Only once I got about a half mile I realized something was wrong with the car. I pulled over and got out.

I had clearly hit something with the side of the car-it was something hard and solid, so I think it was a bollard (once of those concrete thingy-s designed to keep you off the grass.) It left a nice dent in the side of the car.

And it had fucked the tire up.

I groaned. I know how to change a tire, I just hate doing it. My Swedish ex taught me how to do it as in Sweden you have to have summer tires and winter tires, and with two cars it went faster with two people. I got pretty quick at changing tires, and while it's a grubby job, at least I know how to do it.

Only I didn't know how with this car. I rang Angus in London.

"I have a fucking flat," I said.

"Do you want to hang up and call Jim? He should be at home, he can come fix it," he said, referring to one of our handyman neighbors.

I got affronted. "I can change a tire," I retorted. "I just can't find all the necessary kit in this car."

So he walked me through finding the various kit. I jacked up the car and got the socket wrench out to take the lug nuts off.

And then I realized I had a problem.

This is an old car with old wheels. The lug nuts looked fucking soldered on, there was no way I'd be getting those off. I tried and tried, and even stood on the arm of the socket wrench to try.

It wouldn't move.

I couldn't believe it-I might have worked out where all the kit was and how if functioned, but I wasn't strong enough to get the lug nuts off.

A woman walked passed me. "You're so clever, figuring out how to winch up the car!" she called to me. "That's a very good girl!"

Oh my god.

The jack, that's not the hard part. Why does pumping a lever make me clever? A fucking monkey could do that, I don't see anyone calling them clever.

A motorist in a BMW pulls over. "Need help?"

I cave. "Yes please. I can change a tire, I just can't get these lug nuts off."

He parks and gets out. He works the socket wrench and jumps on the arm of the wrench-this miraculously starts loosening them. He loosens all five. "Try not to make it look so easy!" I laugh. Truthfully, I'm pissed off with myself. I should be able to loosen lug nuts. I can do anything a man can do (except that climbing up a ladder bit. I'm terrified of ladders. But then most women can do ladders, too, so that doesn't count.) I hate feeling like there's an element to being a woman which precludes me being able to change a bloody tire. I'm a feminist! I can do anything, except provide a sperm sample in a cup (but if I keep eating all this protein the way I am, I'll be able to pop one of those out soon, too!)

"Oh thank you," I say seriously. "I really appreciate it. I can change a tire, I just couldn't loosen those lug nuts."

I head for the spare, which is under the car. He joins me. We look at the spare-it is held in place with what it undoubtedly the most complicated device in the history of spare tire holding devices. Neither of us can work out how to get the spare tire off.

I finally find a hidden flap in the car which, by rotating a nut with a wrench, winches the spare tire down on a cable. We do this. While we do this, I babble, as I am prone to do.

"This car is sucha heap of crap, we don't care about it. I don't know what happened. I can change a car tire, honest. I'm no damsel in distress. Do you like Tang? Tang? Remember Tang?"

We finally get the wheel free and he replaces it for me. He looks at the jack.

"Well, you got the car raised up ok! Very well done! Good girl!"

OH. MY. GOD.

I bite back a response to my Good Samaritan, and resist the urge to repeat for the fifth or sixth time that I can change a car tire, as I'm beginning to sound like a broken record. I feel really, really dumb-I can change a car tire, me needing help has nothing to do with the mechanics of it. I'm not a pussy, I can get my hands grubby and fix the problem.

Only I couldn't.

The truth is, I wasn't strong enough to get the lug nuts off. I needed a man's help to do that. And it really pissed me off that I needed a guy to do that, because I had Wonder Woman Underoos as a kid, it meant I have super human girl powers, I can lasso a pegasus and deflect enemy rays with my wrist guards and change a goddamn tire.

When we finish, I thank him about a million times, inform him that I'll notify his scout trip that he has indeed done his good turn for the day and offer him some water from my ever-present bottle of water to clean his hands. He gratefully accepts. He rubs his hands together and I dash to the car to find something he can dry his hands on. I see a T-shirt of Angus'. I grab it and head toward him. He starts reaching out for the T-shirt....and a pair of Angus' boxers, which had been rolled up in the T-shirt, fall to the ground.

He looks at the boxers.

I look at the boxers.

He looks at the T-shirt. "I have a rag in my car, I'll use that instead," he supplies.

I pick up the boxers.

I head home, where by the time I get there it's past 5 pm and I've not done very much work at all. I am grubby (two showers later and I still can't get the grease out of the folds of my fingers) and annoyed and I wonder if someone from the gym will chase me down for bollard endangerment (although Angus says they also have enormous planters holding flowers on the curbs there, he bets I winged one of those).

Little wonder why I failed my first driving test.

I felt so annoyed, and it's still biting me today. Lindsay? Lindsay are you here? Got any blow job comments that will make me laugh? Add an Elf reference in there and I'll be your best friend?

Tang? You want some Tang?

I'm a true Muppet sometimes.

-H

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:53 AM | Comments (30) | Add Comment
Post contains 1651 words, total size 9 kb.

1 My dad supervised me in the changing of tyres, he made me do it in the drive from time to time. I couldn't get the nuts off either so he found me a spanner that was circular in cross section and had an open end. I carried a long metal pipe that went in the spanner to get me the extra leverage. If it makes you feel better, you didn't need a man's help to do it, you needed someone with the proper equipment. It happened to be a man with muscle, it could equally well have been a muscle free wimp with a very long spanner. These days I call the AA. Just because I can change a tyre doesn't mean I have to.

Posted by: Caroline M at January 31, 2007 10:00 AM (x3QDi)

2 My last flat tire moment came when I was still driving a news truck. Got a flat, pulled over on the side of the main interstate between, oh, Atlanta and Charlotte. Could not get the lug nuts to move. Nothing. Eventually, I got two out of five. That was it. My chief photographer shows up. He can't get any more to move. Then the State Highway Emergency Patrol shows up in a _big_ pickup (sing with me now: "Who is the man, changing tires for his brother man? SHEP! You're damn right"). He has a pneumatic lift to raise the car, which my crappy ass jack wasn't doing well with, then has an airgun to loosen the bolts. The whole time, I was like "We could have done it, you know...if...we had one of those airgun thingys. Where can I get one?" He was nice enough to not say anything, except to note that the spare was flat, which he filled with yet another tool attached to the magical pickup. And then, he was gone, taking my manhood with him. I hate flat tires.

Posted by: Z. Hendirez at January 31, 2007 10:02 AM (otB//)

3 I grew up with the guys. I could start the 4-wheeler with the pull start (I always thought that was a neat achievement). I can try anything on my computer because - hey! - I know how to fix it. But I cannot swap a tire. I hate that I'm in a car and I don't know what all the sounds are and stuff... are there courses for this?

Posted by: Hannah at January 31, 2007 11:03 AM (8O07t)

4 Since I drive a company car, I don't do ANY of that stuff to my car. Flat tire? I'll be here waiting for the garage. Car won't start? I'll leave the keys under the visor. Call me when it's done. Time for an oil change? Make sure the coffee is hot and the donuts are fresh in the waiting area. However, the wife's car is another story. Oh, I know she CAN change a tire. Her father has told me that he taught her all of that stuff. However, it seems that the wedding ring has somehow bestowed all of that stuff on to me. So when she gets 2 flat tires in a driving rainstorm I get to drive 20 miles to get wet and change 2 tires. (Yes, it involved some creativity to get 2 tires fixed.)

Posted by: ~Easy at January 31, 2007 12:38 PM (FKBK3)

5 That sucks....bad day. Hopefully today will be better. I know exactly what you mean though....how shitty is it to actually NEED a man's help....I mean, when you simply "want" it...that's another story...but to need it...well, that's crappy...and I totally identify. I have pretty bad arthritis (yes, you heard that word correctly from the 31 year old biddy) and I find myself often needing help with the most random of things that include gripping...I have enough arm strength for almost anything I want to do...but I can't properly use my hands.....it's a pisser! Hope today is better!

Posted by: wn at January 31, 2007 01:10 PM (LXJgm)

6 I refuse to learn how to change a tire, and I probably couldn't loosen the lug nuts either. I pay $98 per year to join AAA, and they do it for me. Does the UK have a car assoc. like that?

Posted by: kenju at January 31, 2007 01:50 PM (L8e9z)

7 oh man, i so know the feeling. i too have never been one to believe that being a woman precluded me from performing certain tasks. my dad taught me how to change a tire when i learned how to drive. i was riding with a friend one day in high school, she got a flat, and the two of use were able to change her tire. i was immensely proud. women can change tires too! i am no damsel in distress! except a few years later, i got a flat on my car. and when i tried to change it? the damn lug nuts would NOT COME OFF. i was literally jumping on the tire iron and they wouldn't budge. dejected, i had to call my dad and have him change the tire for me. (also: "Francisco! That's fun to say! Francisco... Frannncisco... Franciscooo... ")

Posted by: geeky at January 31, 2007 01:58 PM (ziVl9)

8 Well you are a lot more self sufficient than I am. Change a tire? Yeah right, That's what AAA and cell phone are for chicks like me. I admire that you want to and CAN take care of yourself. Even if you do need occasional help - at least you take the initiative to get the job done on your own.

Posted by: kimmykins13 at January 31, 2007 02:10 PM (HUKlZ)

9 About the AAA thing? I can answer that... In the UK its called AA and I don't know if it stands for anything but it is quite good. I've got it and in the several years I've lived here had to use it twice. The roads are very narrow by USA standards and rarely ever have a shoulder so its best to: 1. Never have a car breakdown 2. If you do have AA or RAC to get it from blocking traffic. Drake PS Helen, I just love your writing!

Posted by: Drake Steel at January 31, 2007 02:10 PM (QAjoq)

10 oh lordy, that line about the boxers totally had me laughing out loud. i get frustrated when a guy can do something i can't or when my dad starts talking about the differences between men and women. oy. (i had a wonder woman bathing suit.) there are plenty of men who can't change a tire for shit either, so don't let it bug you too much. :-)

Posted by: leah at January 31, 2007 02:16 PM (xJGrF)

11 What Caroline said - you just need the proper equipment. And Helen - part of my job is to send out help for flats and the people who wont even try to change their own tires are either rich men or women. It drives me nuts also, so - have you taught your stepdaughter to change a flat? I dont know if this will make you laugh but my English brother in law was in hysterics when I mentioned what we call our spare here in the states - a doughnut. Cheers!

Posted by: That Girl at January 31, 2007 02:40 PM (oT4a3)

12 On second thought, maybe he laughed simply because I said as I handed over my car "And there's a doughnut in the trunk if you need it."

Posted by: That Girl at January 31, 2007 02:41 PM (oT4a3)

13 I don't sweat the tire change thing so much anymore. Yes, I know how to do it, but I don't like to do it anymore than my husband does. In fact, a few years back we had a tire explode, and when we pulled over a cop just happen to pass. He got out, took over the tire changing, and my husband and I just sat on the curb watching. We looked at each other, then my husband shrugged and said to me "if he wants to get his hands dirty, more power to him." As for not loosening the lug nuts, that shouldn't bother you. My dad (an almighty car god himself) could not get some off my sister's car-he even broke the neighbor's wrench trying. He went to the tire shop, and they told him that particular tire needed to have the lug nuts removed with an air wrench (or some shit like that) and because he tried to do it with the wrong tool, they were stripped and needed to be sheared off. Much money later and humility later, the tire was changed. Long story short: even Wonder Woman Underoos (why don't they make them anymore???) can't fix everything, but neither can a man. But the 'good girl' thing? Yeah seriously, that has to fucking go. I looooove "Elf". Best. Christmas. Movie. Ever. "It's just nice to meet another human that shares my affinity for elf culture."

Posted by: Teresa at January 31, 2007 02:48 PM (S2BBi)

14 Your post, even about a bad day, is very entertaining. Your writing keeps me coming back. Here's to a better day today!

Posted by: amelia at January 31, 2007 03:17 PM (m+C+k)

15 I had sworn to myself that I wasn't going to share this story with anyone. Ever. But you asked for blow job jokes..and even if the joke is at my expense, I must do what I can to alleviate the frustration of your almost bad day. You know how when you've had juuuust enough to drink that you're possessed by a sexual vixen? That was me the other night, only the sexual vixen was only on the inside, leaving the slobbering drunk on the outside. The slobbering drunk who started giving her husband a blow job on the way home and fell asleep with his bajingo still in her mouth. Still. In. My. Mouth. How does that even happen? That was a bad day. And it's a bad day every time I complain that I can't sleep and Casey volunteers to put his penis in my mouth so I can get some rest.

Posted by: Lindsay at January 31, 2007 03:41 PM (mHNC3)

16 Just thought that I'd add another blowjob joke for you. A friend of mine tried to change a flat once, about 30 minutes after a mechanic had rotated his tires. The lug nut broke off at the first pull. Turns out that the dipstick who had worked on the car had used a little too much force with the pneumatic wrench. I guess it's fortunate that the nut didn't break off whilst driving.

Posted by: physics geek at January 31, 2007 04:53 PM (KqeHJ)

17 Heh, this made me lol, Helen, thanks! I thought I was the only one that had stories like this. Well, not really, I've heard/read enough by now to know I'm not alone in this kind of thing, but sometimes it feels pretty lonely until I hear someone else's story again. And get to grin instead of groaning for a change. I gave up thinking I could do everything in the world long ago. I cannot do what any man can do; I can't move my 1906 grand piano, for instance. Even with help. I've had the thing for 30 years now and every time we move, I throw my shoulder into it and strain mightily, knowing that THIS TIME, I'll move it. Nuthin' Then my impossibly skinny son shows up with some other male and it's like the damn thing becomes a feather. Hell, I can't even do a lot of things I see other women do! So it's not a gender thing.I'm simply not SuperWoman after all. I suck at anything mechanical. I've bought so many books on how to learn that kind of thing "Mechanics Made Easy" or whatever, but I'm brain damaged in that regard. I'm not kidding; when I was tested in high school about aptitude and career choices I scored very high in communication and whatnot and even math was average in spite of being horrible at math. Then came the part of the test with the pictures of those little gears and you have to say which part of the mechnical thingie-mah-bob goes which way and how does this contraption fit into this do-hicky and I was completely lost. It was as if I'd been transported to Jupiter and I was taking their alien test. It made no sense to me, none. So my test graph when I got it back was a line mostly at the very top in the high 90's, dropping a little in the math part to the 70's/60's and then zooming down to a sharp "v" for the mechanical part, which was 1-2 percent. I'm such a high achiever and I was totally embarrassed. I snuck looks at everyone else's test and I was the only one that had *anything* that low. I stuck the paper in my purse ASAP in case anyone else saw. I am *retarded* in that area. Okay, I'm babbling, enough. Oh one more thing; Lindsay, you're not the only one to fall asleep with a wang in your mouth; I've done it twice now with my husband, also very drunk, but very enthusiastic. At first. Then the frenzied bobbing slowed down and finally (he tells me, because this part gets fuzzy) I just dropped my head down and started snoring lightly. Lovely. How sexy is that? And my Man, being the kind of gentle, caring individual he is, simply grabbed my hair and moved my head up and down until he finished. What a giver, eh? Yeah, he's just that way... ;-P And lol at your husband offering to help you sleep, lol!

Posted by: Amber at January 31, 2007 04:59 PM (zQE5D)

18 what's with all the 'good girl' commentary? i mean using that phrase..is that an English thing?

Posted by: erin at January 31, 2007 05:15 PM (4dWnl)

19 When I was a junior in college, my friends and I decided to head out to the store one night. When we got to the car, the tire was flat. The car was 150 years old, so the lug nuts were on there pretty well. And it was the coldest night of the year (that year) in South Bend, IN, so the nuts were a bit frozen as well. We couldn't get two of the nuts off. We jumped on the wrench, we drove around with the other nuts loosened, we did everything. And then we called security, as it was night and we were four girls out in a parking lot. Security came. Did they help us? NO! They WATCHED us try to get them off. It took us about two hours to change that tire, and the head of campus security got four VERY nasty letters about the two male security guards that watched us instead of helping us. Sometimes we all need a little help from the opposite sex. At least you got it.

Posted by: amy t. at January 31, 2007 06:05 PM (3dOTd)

20 I've just gotten home from what has turned into a complete shit day (found a virus in Helen 2.1 then), and your comments are the best. All of them. I love the tire stories, the piano stories, the AA advice (I'm signing up now) and any and all references to Elf (Geeky and Teresa). Also? The blow job stories are great. Falling asleep with the party favor in the mouth? Priceless.

Posted by: Helen at January 31, 2007 06:38 PM (PaWwU)

21 Ok, I will be 33 in May...and honestly? You've made it this far and are only on 2.1? Fuuuuuuuuuhhh. I'm at LEAST on 9.3. Seriously. Also, I'm now possessed of a desire to invent SOMETHING that will ensure all women never need men for tire changes. I guess my inner feminist got pissed off by the "good girl" comments. How damn annoying.

Posted by: Tracy at January 31, 2007 07:33 PM (rpUdy)

22 So we all need a little help from the opposite sex from time to time. No big deal. I can't get the super model Mrs. Solomon's bra off on my own. I can't even rip the darn thing apart (it's sturdy). Change a tire? Open a jar? Run two miles? No problem. Undo a clasp in the dark? PROBLEM!! But seriously, I think there are some things each gender generally does better than the other. It doesn't mean we can't do them, it just means someone else is better at it. And even within the same gender, some people do what others can't. Given enough time you'd have gotten the tire off, even if you had to hook up a pulley or involve a fulcrum. I agree with everyone; the "good girl" comments seem condescending. Is that like us saying, "nice going" or "good job"? Sorry you had a bad day.

Posted by: Solomon at January 31, 2007 08:29 PM (x+GoF)

23 hey, I agree, I can change a tyre, but you know what really bites? When your stupid manhalf, who's currently in plaster from the knee down after breaking his ankle on his STAG WEEKEND has to help you jump on the tyre iron because you are too WEAK to loosen the nuts on your own. Stupid manhalf, stupid weak girl arms!

Posted by: Sarah at January 31, 2007 09:19 PM (FDxM/)

24 Sounds like you had one of those days where you wake up and find yourself starring in your own sitcom. At least that's how I picture it when I have one of those terrible, horrible, no good, very fucked-up days (remember that book from your childhood? except for the fucked-up part?). Sometimes, once I get over myself, I just have to laugh at the moments in life that try to make me look like Moe, Larry, Curly, and Shemp all at the same time. BTW, are the "good girl" comments from passersby just another common British way of regarding such matters, or were there just too many people that day being sarcastic and condescending? Sorry to hear the rest of your day was no better. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day, that's what I tell myself.

Posted by: diamond dave at January 31, 2007 09:52 PM (kjVf/)

25 Sorry about your day, Helen. But, I do have an idea that might help you overcome that temporary feeling of inferiority due to lug nuts. The secret? Physics can make you a superwoman. (Not that you're not, already.) Not sure of the equivalent in the U.K., but here's an example of a "power wrench" from the States: http://www.gorilla-auto.com/products/?sfID1=270&sfID2=285 The longer the handle, the easier they'll be to remove. And, the longer handle means that even if you can't get it loose on the first try, a quick jump on it will do the trick. Here's to hoping tomorrow's a better day.

Posted by: Anonymous Lurker at January 31, 2007 09:56 PM (M1oKZ)

26 make sure they make your chai tea latte with hot water. It is too spicy if they don't - at least to me. Some people like it that way. The original recipe was w/ water, but then Starbucks drinkers are such extremists, people started ordering it w/out water. Now a lot of them just automatically make it that way. So ask them if they make it w/ hot water. Then you'll get a warm & toasty comfort drink.

Posted by: kalisah at February 01, 2007 12:56 AM (VU6S4)

27 My dad taught me to change tires— one trick is to start loosening the lug nuts while the car has yet to be jacked up. It gives you a little extra stability. And like the below poster says, the longer the wrehnch, the less force needed. My dad had this thing that looked like a cross so you could grab both sides and move it. However, I did not change either of the two flats I've had. The first was when I was with a group of friends, and Big Burly Samoan Shotputter friend offered to change it for me. Sure. You need a jack? The second time was kind of embarrassing because I couldn't find the spare. Turns out it was cranked up under the body. My dad had taught me how to change a tire but not ever mentioned that the car manual will tell you where the spare is...

Posted by: B. Durbin at February 01, 2007 01:34 AM (tie24)

28 I wish I didn't laugh so much when you relate the stories of your bad days--it makes me feel guilty--but what I really, really wish is that I had a good blow job joke.

Posted by: ilyka at February 01, 2007 02:13 AM (A99u8)

29 There are many things in this life that I cannot do. I cannot fly a plane. I cannot make sushi. I cannot speak German. Of all the things that I cannot do but wish I could, I don't even bother thinking about the things that I cannot do and don't want to. I would much rather call the AAA and let the nice man with the big truck take care of everything. My blow job story is not so much about the job, but more the after effect: spunk in eye. It didn't sting, but it was certainly irritating. He wasn't aiming (I'm not THAT kind of girl) there was a series of miscommunication which led to me leaning back and him finishing off. Clearly one thing led to another and pop went the weasel in my eye.

Posted by: Some Girl at February 01, 2007 09:12 AM (nwAP3)

30 Some girl-I too once got it in the eye. I looked like I had pink eye for days. From now on, if I'm backing off the cupcake, I aim it towards the wall.

Posted by: Helen at February 01, 2007 09:50 AM (PaWwU)

Hide Comments | Add Comment