Christmas coal for everyone

I had such good intentions for today's post ... I was ready to tittilate and amuse ya'll with stories of snowboarding, or the strip show I went to see (with my GIRLFRIEND, no less) on Tuesday.
But no, I'm going to complain. Bitterly.
You see, I got up this morning with big plans — go to the doctor, play a little ball, and get my car fixed. (OK, so the plans don't sound very big at all ... ;) But the Almighty threw a monkey wrench in my plans. Or my truck. Something like that.
It was just supposed to be a tune-up and a wee little brake job. Nothing serious. No major surgery on the innards of my truck.
Yah. Right.
That's when I get this call...
"Hi, JJ? It's Art down at the shop ... uhhh.... We need to talk."
Those last four words are the most dreaded words a man can hear. But usually they come from a woman. Now, when they come from someone with a Y chromosome, you KNOW there's trouble.
It seems my 4Runner is all Guns N Roses... as in, my Axel just ain't that rosy... Oil from the differential started leaking into my rear brakes, meaning — let me get technical for a second here — the potassium seals on the defibrillator have become fused, which in turn have ratchefied the calipers.
Seriously, there is oil from the diff in my brakes, and they could have seized up any time. And since I had the foresight to buy an import, that means only Toyota can do this particular repair.
I won't try to astound you with the amount of this repair bill, but the labour for just the axel alone is 7.6 hours. And with mechanics making about the same as the GNP of New Mexico, let's just say everyone is getting mandarin oranges for Christmas.
Or, at least my family is. All the rest of you are getting Christmas Cards written on the back of my credit card statements.
And I'm sure I can look forward to lots of great presents myself, like the ones I get from my folks. What was it last year? Oh, yah - BOXERS WITH LADYBUGS ON THEM! Just what I always wanted ... Sheesh... I'm 28 years old. I think I can buy my own boxers by now.
Little rocketships are WAY cooler than ladybugs ...