i mean seriously...

i must say, life just seems to be improving exponentially.

i finally thought i was getting my head above water....or atleast really putting in the effort to rise from rock bottom, when well, yesterday happened.

after my very productive tuesday, which included checking my car (nicknamed "kit") into the spa for a sweet 40K mile tuneup - *honk honk* - i was ready to get my ass in gear on wednesday. i still had a laundry list of errands to run, so i slept in. damnit. got up at 11 AM, checked the usual job listings, called my headhunters for updates and cleaned a bit.

background: my friend bess just moved to LA and is staying with me and rachel for a couple weeks. we're three peas in a little pod, literally. bess's pre-planned roommate's new job got pushed back three months... no worries, but she works in sales aka from home aka we hang out all day....she's homeless and i'm jobless, we're quite a pair.

back to wed: halfway through the day, my friend emilie (an eastcoast friend who recently moved to anaheim with her law-school bf) calls offering her two extra free season tix for the Angels game that night. saweeet bball, sign us up. around 4 o'clock bess and i hop in my sweet civic and drive an hour to anaheim. halfway there i get a random craving for coffee. mind you, i drink coffee maybe twice a month... odd, but bess is in for a frapaccino as well, so we keep our eyes peeled for a coffee bean or starbucks. apparently anaheim rejects high-end coffee, 'cause we didn't see either....anywhere.

i call emilie as we near her apartment and she suggests a gas station nearby for our java fix. uuuuuh what? psssshaw, gas station coffee? surely you jest, emilie. i would like to spend $4 on a small vanilla latte thank you very much. so we decide to take matters into our own hands and drive around the the three square miles of anaheim that i know.

we were about to give up as we neared an intersection with blinking red traffic lights (two blocks from emilie's). while we waited for our turn to pause and accelerate, we chit-chatted aimlessly, most likely about how appalling it was that there was no overpriced coffee in sight. when BAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! we lurched, bess screamed and i hit the brakes. holy shit, kit just got rammed up the tailpipe! i looked in my rearview and saw some dude on his cell phone waving me to pull around the corner. DICK.

bess and i stared at each other in disbelief, but were not bleeding anywhere. somehow my entire center console was soaked and my sunroof cover had been jarred open about 6 inches. what the hell. the impact caused our water bottles to EXPLODE out of the holders, drenching the interior...i feared for kit's bumper. slowly i emerged from my car, suddenly dizzy, to lay my eyes apon the ultimate piece of crap that had the audacity to ruin our happy evening.

a 1995 white mercury sable. a white car. i hate white cars. ironic.

immediately i went into "i will not get fucked on this" mode. every accident horror story from friends and family's past came flooding to the forefront. the guy got off his phone and emerged frantic, "OMG ARE YOU OKAY, OH NO, SERIOUSLY, HOW ARE YOU etc etc." i walked to the bumper, saw that his car didn't have any apparent damage, but my sweet blue pearl appeared to be a victim of target practice....how the hell are there HOLES and RIVETS in the bumper?!? i suddenly realized this could be so much worse.

#1. he had insurance.
#2. he spoke english.

based on these two facts, i thought everything would be okay. he ended up being a super nice guy and we saw no reason to get upset or angry, but remained skeptical. i exquisitely extracted my little black quote book, pen, camera, insurance card, ID and documented all damage, intersection and even slyly took a video of his face and voice. i retrieved every ounce of information and evidence from him, short of a hair sample. yes thank you, i should work for the FBI. could you please pass me my insurance card sir? be sure to get a full thumb print on that...perfect.

this was his first at-fault accident in 25 years and it turns out he even works for insurance and was horrified that he just fell victim to "accident while on a cell phone" category...damn straight. after a ten minute exchange i realized my head was pounding and neck was really tight. kinda like after you ride four or five hardcore rollercoasters in a row. i could see bess in the car rubbing her neck and thought, "ah shit. it's fine if i'm woozy, but i hate to have my passengers all jacked up."

the idea of coffee was quite insignificant after that, so i pounded some advil and off we went to the game. where gem #2 occurred:

second inning, i decide to take a few photos. my head is feeling better, perhaps it's the beer mixing with the pills. i stood up to get a photo of emilie and john, when unbeknownst to me, my lil green seat flips back up. well i twirl around to sit back down and instead eat complete shit on the stadium floor. damnit!!! well actually i didn't quite hit the ground...my knobby elbow saved me. yes, my entire bodyweight held two inches above the ground by a half inch of bone. suddenly, my head and elbow were fighting for dibs on what hurt worst. i let everyone enjoy their hearty laughs and insisted they refrain from stifling any amusement. IDIOT.

did i mention the Angels friggin lost?!? as the night progressed, bess and i looked more and more like zombies, moving only with extreme caution. we split a bottle of advil and called it a night. i barely slept and my elbow fucking hurts. his insurance called this morning accepting full liability and is ready to cover damages and a rental, so that's a huge relief. now if i could only straighten my damn cock-eyed right arm. i'm just waiting to finish off the trio of pain by walking into a door (or something equally stupid).

it'll take a week or so, but i'm totally gun shy around other cars, which is the worst. i kinda want to wrap my car in rubber diapers and wear a helmut. oooh i need to go ice my elbow.

definition of a friend:

me: damn, he hit us hard... good thing the airbags didn't deploy, that shit would break my nose.
bess: he hit us really hard.
me: actually, maybe if i had a broken nose, employers would feel sorry for me and give me a job.
bess: do you want me to punch you in the face?
me: i'll let you know.

Posted by missy at July 21, 2005 11:30 AM