What's The Complete Opposite of The Midas Touch?

I'm home alone enjoying a very Canadian evening (hockey game, Molson, and Sir Timmy's) which normally would be a perfect evening, but I should be in Pittsburgh at the birthday extravaganza blowout fiesta of the century. Unfortunately my car thought today would be an ideal to stop functioning properly, so alone I sit.

I made it to Edinboro before the car starting acting diabetic. It would chug along fine for a few miles, but as soon as I approached an incline, it began acting sluggish and demanded a king size Snickers bar. Even with the the pedal floored the ol' gal went from 75 to 35 and I was getting passed like Brady Quinn. Since Pittsburgh is home to 58% of all the hills in the Northeast US (this is a known fact...trust me on this one...no need to google it) I decided to double back to my parents and after a few hours of this



the car still wasn't road worthy. Something about a fuel filter and transmission and a bunch of other things that sound expensive and complicated. I would have my new(er) car already, but the gentleman who sold it to me is dragging his feet with the title transfer. Foiled by paperwork.

The only positive of being stuck at home and missing out on a boatload of good-timery is that it motivated me to break my blog cherry. Nothing like using shame and depression (thanks God) as a catalyst for writing...