Spam, Flats, and Bruce

Since I finished The Big Picture, I went out and got a massage. As I was reclining there, I thought, why don’t I do this more often? Why just reward myself for finishing a book, which only happens twice a year? I have other major accomplishments I need to celebrate. Like I ate vegetables yesterday. Massage! Or I went a day this summer without my friends Ben and Jerry. Massage! Or I how about the fact that I got the trash out on time? One hour massage please.

Saw Spamalot in Tulsa. It was awesome. Laughed a lot. Men in tights always crack me up though. On our way, we had a flat. I of course, offered my help. “Please, gentleman, could I change the tire? Oh, please?” But the men said, “Even though we have no doubt you could do this with your eyes closed and one hand tied behind your back, we would like to do it ourselves. We are afraid your tire-changing competency would put us to shame.” So I let them.


“Guys, can I help?”
“No, we don't want your hair to frizz.”


“Okay, what other helpful thing shall we ladies do? I know! Road trip pics!”

“I think I'll call some old boyfriends.”
“Cool. I'll call and make a pedicure appointment. Changing a tire is fun!”

Okay, I have no idea how to change a tire. My method involves one step: you call someone. Last year I had a blowout and pulled into a construction site. It was crawling with workers. I just knew one of them would have mercy on me and help me out. Besides the flat, my phone was having issues and so I was stressed and ticked at the same time. Finally one comes up to me and knocks on my window. I roll it down. Hallelujah! My help has arrived in the form of a kindly Samaritan in steel toed shoes and overalls.
“Um, ma’am, you’re blocking our way. Can you move?”
I blinked.
“Oh…okay. See my tire blew out and my phone isn’t working.” (Insert really pitiful face here.)
“Yeah, thanks for moving it.”
And away he went. And then it started raining, drowning the parking lot and my faith in chivalry forever. Clearly I should’ve shown some leg or something. Okay, actually that would’ve gotten us nowhere either. Luckily my phone cooperated enough to make a call for some genuine help. No leg required.

On a side note: Go see Die Hard III. Worth the wait. I hear it will be a while for Die Hard IV though. But Bruce Willis in a walker should provide a powerful level of excitement.

Click Here to Leave a Comment Below 4 comments
C.J. Darlington - July 17, 2007

I notice a police car behind you girls in the first picture…

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Jenny B. Jones - July 17, 2007

True! Well, they didn’t stop. We were in a McDonald’s parking lot, so he must’ve gotten distracted. Big Macs do that to me too.

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Anonymous - July 19, 2007

Looks like you were fortunate to be accompanied by such gallant and mechanically-inclined studs…I mean…men.

Jeff A.

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Jenny B. Jones - July 19, 2007

Studs indeed. Those two guys couldn’t hardly change the tire for girls screaming from the highway. “You can change my flat anytime!” It was shameless.

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