On the other hand: I have a new car! Cue the John Phillip Sousa!

Here's the story. I was driving home on Thursday night, in the wee small hours of morning, when my car died. First the battery light came on, then the dashboard lights began to dim, then the electrical system sort of faded out... and the car stopped.

Keep in mind that the power had gone out of my whole electrical system, including the hazard lights. Also keep in mind that I was in the middle of the Bay Bridge at the time. In the darkness.

It was, and I don't mind saying so, fucking terrifying.

I frantically called AAA, and tried to keep the complete panic out of my voice when I explained that I was in the middle of the Bay Bridge, etc. etc., please don't let me die. Cars were zooming around me like crazy. I felt like a very slow roller skater making my way around the rink, with all those fast skaters zooming past you like crazy and scaring the hell out of you. Except with a much higher probability of serious injury. By which I mean death.

In almost no time (thank you, Caltrans) a tow truck turned up behind me, escorted by The Fuzz. The Fuzz told me to put my car in neutral, and he used The Fuzzmobile to push me off the bridge onto Yerba Buena Island. Gradually, I began to notice that my brakes were fading out too. I had no idea that this was normal; when I realized that I was going to be pushed downhill, I got scared again. Lucky, stomping on the brake like a madwoman made my car stop.

Next, the tow truck driver towed me into Emeryville. The Fuzz had called AAA for me, arranging a tow truck to meet me in Emeryville. It was a deserted road where they dropped me off, and again, I was like, okay, gonna die. But I didn't care that much anymore, because the adrenaline had worn off. I napped instead.

The AAA guy towed me to my mechanic and told me it would probably be the alternator (which, in fact, it turned out to be). It ended up costing me another $350 to fix, wiping out the rest of my savings account and putting me in more car-bill debt.

That was it. The final straw. Enough. Not only was I tired of pouring hard-hard-hard-earned money into the Crapmobile, I no longer felt safe in the car. I decided it would be nice to have a new car. Within 24 hours, I had one.

My new car, The Watermelon, is a 1997 VW Jetta. (My sister and cousin both have Jettas. They are very popular cars in our fam.) It is green. The doors lock. The radio not only works, it has a 6-CD changer. The lights are green. I put in an air freshener to make it smell like watermelon Bubble Yum. It drives smoothly and makes me feel loved by my mode of transportation. And it has a three-year warranty that covers every damn nut and bolt in the thing.

I am paying $225 a month for this car, but I will never have a $600 mechanic bill again. Do you have any idea how refreshing that is? Even if I didn't get the best deal (I think I got a pretty good deal at $9300, the car only had 35,000 miles on it) or the best possible car, or do the smartest thing-- it's still a solid car with a personality, for a decent price, and it has a kick-ass warranty. And cupholders! Did I mention?

Now I am going to try and sell the Crapmobile. It's a fixer-upper, to be sure, but it's still got a lot of miles left in it. I am sure someone who is not me will have the patience for it. If I get even $1500 for it, that will be enough to pay off my mechanic bills and have a little replenishment happening in my savings account.

So there you have it. It's too late now, so I would appreciate nothing but indications that I did a smart thing, or at least not a dumb thing. I will take a picture of the car soon so you can see its cuteness. For now, this is the best I can do:

Doesn't really capture the full flavor, does it? Aah well. It really does have quite a personality. It was Jenfu who divined that its name is The Watermelon, and she hadn't even met the car yet. Clearly, The Watermelon is developing a psychic connection with my friends from afar. That's a neat trick.

Seriously, I'm making my way out of the land of "Holy Shit!" and into the land of "Yay!" regarding this car. I can't believe it. A car that isn't out to kill me and make me poor. It's like a miracle.

Today at work, we developed a new system of calling drinks.

You know how, in a diner, you order sunny-side up eggs and they yell "Adam and Eve on a raft!" or something like that? We definitely need codes like that at Starbucks, and today, we took a step in that direction.

It all started when I named the grande nonfat latte a "giraffe with no legs" (the initials, you see). It sort of blossomed from there. By the time I left, we were calling drinks to each other like, "Badger in a hole!" (drip coffee with room for cream) and "sleepy Snoopy in the dark!" (decaf mocha with no whipped cream) and, my favorite, "Winston Churchill on a diet, no toupee!" (white chocolate mocha, nonfat milk, with whip).

It was an obscene amount of fun. The customer would order a grande americano with room, and we'd turn around and yell, "Uncle Sam with his hat on!" and then they'd look at us like we were insane. "Bored, are you?" they'd ask. "Not anymore!" we'd answer.

I like the "John Wilkes Booth" (decaf nonfat latte) and the whole Peanuts theme we have going. A latte is a "Charlie Brown." A black and white mocha is a "Linus and Lucy." We've got Frappuccinos named "The Captain" and "Tennile."

I fear what will happen if Starbucks corporate caught wind of this. In the meantime, it's a way to stave off mind-numbing boredom. You gotta love it.

I can't possibly even think about beginning to write about everything that happened this week.

Most importantly, it was Jenfu's birthday. I got her a karaoke machine, and I think the highlight was when we put in the Once More, With Feeling CD and sang the entire thing, start to finish, at the tops of our lungs, while Anthony and Rod stared at us in horror. I think the high point was "I'll Never Tell," with Jen as Xander and me as Anya. It was quite something.

When we were done we said to the guys, "You know, the really scary thing is that this is what we'll probably be doing every single weekend from now on. Possibly for the rest of our lives."

The really really scary thing is, that's true.