I was in a car accident yesterday.
Well, I think it was a car accident, I didn’t do it on purpose. And...I was in my car.
My son (who’s transmission is in his bedroom) needed a ride to his friend’s house and he didn’t want to wait until after I took a nap. I was EXHAUSTED. I hadn’t slept in over 24 hours except for that little siesta that I took sitting at my desk.
I dropped the brat off and headed home. While stopped at a red light, I sort of feel asleep. Just for a second.
Well, apparently, my foot fell asleep too. It decided to stop applying pressure to the brakes. You know what happens when you don’t apply pressure to the brakes...you go forward. At least you do when the car is in drive and mine was.
Evidently, the chap in front of me was awake. Of course, he COULD have been asleep, but his car wasn't moving.
Naturally, when one car is stopped and the car behind it is moving forward, a collision occurs. And...collide we did.
I didn’t hit him very hard. As a matter of fact, I hit him about as firmly as I used to hit people who wouldn’t move quickly enough when I was driving my battlestar-galacticar. I never hit anyone very hard at all, just firmly enough to politely say, “MOVE...YOU JACK ASS!”
Anyway, the impact sort of woke me up a bit.
Then, before I even had a chance to apologize...the dude took off. I decided to take off myself. The cop to our left didn’t seem to mind, the driver of the victimized vehicle didn’t seem to mind and I certainly wasn’t going to complain so I just went home.
After a day of cudgeling over the why the man would have just driven off after being rear ended, I have come to the following conclusion...he either:
A. Assumed that I was just offering a friendly little diktat that the light was red.
B. Was wanted in all fifty states for some shocking transgression.
C. Had a woman performing activities not visible to anyone driving nearby.
OR...
D. All of the above.
One way or another, I was rather delighted with his choice of action.
Rarely does one get out of such a disagreeable circumstance so effortlessly. I’m on a roll here. A divorce from a major prevaricator, an easy circumvention of a potentially pricey situation and a man to play with...all in the same month.
Yea for me.
I simply MUST buy a lottery ticket today. Or...I could play Bingo.
That’s always fun...isn’t it? The only Bingo place that I’m aware of around here is a local VFW lodge. Back in Chicago, my mother used to play at a Catholic church. In Illinois, one must be at least 18 to enter such dens of iniquity. I think that’s why Mother went to them so often. When a woman has 6 children, she simply must have an escape and what better place than a Bingo hall that doesn’t allow children?
Upon turning 18, I began intruding her sanctuary. I walked into a huge room in the basement of Saint Something which was full of women sitting at tables, smoking cigarettes and ironically rubbing the bellies of their little Buddha statues for luck.
The first time that I infringed upon Mother’s refuge, I was full of glee.
After losing the first 5 games, I began whining that I wasn't winning anything.
Mother declared, “That’s the difference between you and me...I came here to have fun and you came here to win.”
Shortly after she said that, I won $75. I was so ecstatic to hear the number I needed called that I shouted, “YAHTZEE!”
Mother’s safe haven was safe no longer. I began accompanying her to Bingo every chance I got. I won the first 4 times that I went with her.
It didn’t take very long for her to get annoyed with me and my beginner’s luck. After I won the fourth time in a row, Mom began to complain. She looked at me counting my booty and grumbled, “This is just ridiculous.”
“Well, Mom”, I countered, “that’s the difference between you and me...”
Damn, I was truly an unpleasant child at times.
OK, clear the roads, I’m on my way out.
See ya,
Meg
Well, I think it was a car accident, I didn’t do it on purpose. And...I was in my car.
My son (who’s transmission is in his bedroom) needed a ride to his friend’s house and he didn’t want to wait until after I took a nap. I was EXHAUSTED. I hadn’t slept in over 24 hours except for that little siesta that I took sitting at my desk.
I dropped the brat off and headed home. While stopped at a red light, I sort of feel asleep. Just for a second.
Well, apparently, my foot fell asleep too. It decided to stop applying pressure to the brakes. You know what happens when you don’t apply pressure to the brakes...you go forward. At least you do when the car is in drive and mine was.
Evidently, the chap in front of me was awake. Of course, he COULD have been asleep, but his car wasn't moving.
Naturally, when one car is stopped and the car behind it is moving forward, a collision occurs. And...collide we did.
I didn’t hit him very hard. As a matter of fact, I hit him about as firmly as I used to hit people who wouldn’t move quickly enough when I was driving my battlestar-galacticar. I never hit anyone very hard at all, just firmly enough to politely say, “MOVE...YOU JACK ASS!”
Anyway, the impact sort of woke me up a bit.
Then, before I even had a chance to apologize...the dude took off. I decided to take off myself. The cop to our left didn’t seem to mind, the driver of the victimized vehicle didn’t seem to mind and I certainly wasn’t going to complain so I just went home.
After a day of cudgeling over the why the man would have just driven off after being rear ended, I have come to the following conclusion...he either:
A. Assumed that I was just offering a friendly little diktat that the light was red.
B. Was wanted in all fifty states for some shocking transgression.
C. Had a woman performing activities not visible to anyone driving nearby.
OR...
D. All of the above.
One way or another, I was rather delighted with his choice of action.
Rarely does one get out of such a disagreeable circumstance so effortlessly. I’m on a roll here. A divorce from a major prevaricator, an easy circumvention of a potentially pricey situation and a man to play with...all in the same month.
Yea for me.
I simply MUST buy a lottery ticket today. Or...I could play Bingo.
That’s always fun...isn’t it? The only Bingo place that I’m aware of around here is a local VFW lodge. Back in Chicago, my mother used to play at a Catholic church. In Illinois, one must be at least 18 to enter such dens of iniquity. I think that’s why Mother went to them so often. When a woman has 6 children, she simply must have an escape and what better place than a Bingo hall that doesn’t allow children?
Upon turning 18, I began intruding her sanctuary. I walked into a huge room in the basement of Saint Something which was full of women sitting at tables, smoking cigarettes and ironically rubbing the bellies of their little Buddha statues for luck.
The first time that I infringed upon Mother’s refuge, I was full of glee.
After losing the first 5 games, I began whining that I wasn't winning anything.
Mother declared, “That’s the difference between you and me...I came here to have fun and you came here to win.”
Shortly after she said that, I won $75. I was so ecstatic to hear the number I needed called that I shouted, “YAHTZEE!”
Mother’s safe haven was safe no longer. I began accompanying her to Bingo every chance I got. I won the first 4 times that I went with her.
It didn’t take very long for her to get annoyed with me and my beginner’s luck. After I won the fourth time in a row, Mom began to complain. She looked at me counting my booty and grumbled, “This is just ridiculous.”
“Well, Mom”, I countered, “that’s the difference between you and me...”
Damn, I was truly an unpleasant child at times.
OK, clear the roads, I’m on my way out.
See ya,
Meg
posted by Meg Kelso | 10:13 AM
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