My Blog Ate My Homework

Good evening and my vibrator ran out of batteries, forcing me out of my masturbatory coma/literary hiatus.

Back by popular complaint, first let me say that you are the most loyal, bored, obnoxious friends a girl could as for. So, after the 3rd or 4th, "I have nothing to distract me from my crappy office job anymore," I have re-dedicated myself to my late night ramblings. Just. For. You. Feel special.

That said, it's actually the middle of the afternoon. No, i'm not starting to relinquish my nocturnal habits, but when I tried to save this post last night at about 2am, blogger when sharktastic on me and devoured it whole. (because it was so delicious.) Apparently I should be running home at night and backing up.

But despite all these trials, I have perservered; I'm back, boreder than ever, and ready to tell you about the time I drove my car into the back of another car. Wooooohoooo!

That time was last Friday.

Returning home from a night of debaucherous birthday celebration in good ol' Toga town, NY, I was headed back to Massachusetts to make work at 4. Needless to say, I was exhausted, be-sweatpantsed, and feeling the familiar effects of the morning after. However, the sun was out, the road was clear, and I was making excellent time; despite being worn out and well, me, I was in a pretty good mood...

And that's when I made my fatal mistake. (duh duh DUHHHHH). In my infinite brilliance, I pulled into the Lee rest stop off I-90 for a quick bathroom run. And--lets be honest here--a medium fry.

Ok, a happy meal. With a toy.

I made this decision regardless of the fact that I HATE stopping on my way home, the fact that I was still full of Country Corner goodness, and the fact that- here's the kicker- I totally could have held it. Alas. As I eased off the ramp, I pulled into the parking lot making a right turn, indicating in hindsight that I couldn't have been doing more than about 5mph. But for drama's sake, let's say I was doing at least ten times that, and that I was on fire. So, speeding and flaming like a [insert gay joke here], I locked my sights on a spot to the left.

Now, let's pause here moment to examine the scenario. To my left, there was a parking spot. A parking spot. One lone miniscule spot, squeezed between the two least convenient vehicles available in regular transit. To the left, a Ford F-3billion roughly the size of a firetruck. To the right, a crookedly-parked SUV, whose tail end angled in towards the truck with all the subtlety of a dog in heat. (This metaphor especially apt because my car will shortly bury its nose in that SUV's ass). On the OTHER side of the aisle, there were roughly 10 consecutive empty spaces, enough room for me to pull in sideways. In an eighteen wheeler.

It would have been perfectly easy, beauuutifully easy, to pull into one of these empty spots. But no. Instead I went for the awful spot. The impossible spot. The hail mary of parking spots, which for the record should only be attempted in the most desperate of circumstances and under direct supervision of a lifeguard. Perhaps it was not the logical choice, but it was a whole 30 feet closer to fatty french-fry fantasticness. And as I eased my way around the ginormous Ford Monstrosity, carefully monitoring my left side to properly negotiate the difficult turn, I thought, "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn, I'm smooth."

Unfortunately, my car was thinking, "The HELL you are..." because it seized that exact moment to collide with the rear fender of the SUV on the right. Needless to say, I was not monitoring that side quite so carefully. Awesome. The crunch of exploding plastic and the cold harsh scrape of styrofoam against steel shocked me out of my congratulatory reverie, or mental victory dance, if you will. Backing up into one of the many EMPTY spaces behind me, I saw that the damage to the SUV was minimal, and briefly contemplated getting the hell outta dodge.

HOWEVER, upon inspecting my own vehicle, my clever escape was foiled. Where the corner of my bumper should have been, there was now an empty hole. Cables hung from what formerly was my parking light and directional, one shattered and the other embedded safely in the broken bumper, which was embedded safely on the ground. When I called my father to assess the situation, I described it as follows: "Its like...if your eyeball popped out, but you didn't lose it. It's just kinda dangling there by all those strings." As I stood, staring into the gaping socket, I noticed that my bumper consists entirely of hard plastic and styrofoam (except of course in the spot it struck the SUV, where it is made of plastic and NOTHING). It certainly is reassuring to know that in the case of a more serious head-on collison, I have styrofoam to protect me.

I would love to continue this tale of woe, regaling you with further embarassments like the myraid of guys who came over and swore that they could "catch the guy who did this," at which point I would bashfully inform them that "no, thanks, I did it myself." But my ADD has stretched this yarn out over yet another day and its now 1:30am, which is nearing a reasonable time for sleep. And so, in dramatic conclusion, I took a half hour nap in the car just to spite the world, disconnected the wires, tossed my broken bumper in the trunk, and drove on home.

Maybe if youre good, next time I will tell you about how we fixed said light and bumper using duct tape, bungee cord, magic marker, and...a shower curtain. In the mean time, have a safe thanksgiving and look out for drivers like me.