12 April 2009

3 Nov 06 - I'll take a painkiller and call you in the morning.

Yesterday was a busy fucking day.  Since myspace is on one of it's spaztic fuckouts, along with my being blogcocked at work, I once again find myself at the Library this afternoon.

I'm sitting at my own station today, not standing.  There is a guy next to me who smells of stale potato chips.  I think he's just farting a lot or something, because he is ripe!  Another guy sat down in front of me and he looks familiar.  I think he's our server at the Bee's.

Anyway, yesterday I went to work before I saw my doctor and almost landed on my ass in the entryway of our building.  It was raining and I was wearing slick shoes.  As soon as I stepped foot on the lanolium, my ass went flying!  I tried to get my balance, and ended up looking like someone on skates for the first time.  I finally stopped on the other side of the building once I hit the carpet.  Thankfully I didn't fall, because that would have just been lovely.

I went to see my doctor who told me I had a mild case of whiplash.  Fabulous.  He wrote me a prescription for a muscle relaxer/pain killer and sent me to get xrayed.

I had to drive down the street to get my xrays.  Now, in traffic I'm extremely paranoid.  Always looking around, and especially in my rear view mirror.  If another punk mother bitch rear ends me, it's the end of their life.  No shit.  I will beat them until their last breath.  Unless it's a big dude.  Then I'd just kick him in the nuts and bash his head with my shoe while he's down for the count.

I got my xrays and when it was time to leave this girl came in and said, "okay."  That was it.  So I sat there.  "You can leave now."  Oh, well thanks for telling me.  She said something else, but I don't speak Russian, so I didn't understand the chick, although she had some messed up ratty hair.  Ew!

I called the police station and they said I could pick up the police report after work.  Nice!  I called my bank, and those fucking anus suckers turned down my loan. Fuck!

After work, I picked up the police report and headed back home, getting nervous as I passed the spot of the death of my beloved car.  Asshole.  There was a blue napkin sticking out of my glass door.  At first I thought some lazy bastard campaining left it there, but it was from one of the guys in the accident.

I found out that both guys were young.  Younger than me.  Like 20 and 23.  The guy I hit got his police report yesterday.  Lucky bitch.  So he had already started the claim AGAINST THE GUY WHO HIT ME!

Yes.  That is correct!  The dumbass who rear ended me has to cover the damages of both my car and the car I hit!  How fucking fantabulous is that shit?!?!  Very.

I tried to call the insurance guy, but he wasn't there so I left a message.  I called the guy who left the napkin in my door and he works at Domino's.  Sweet, gimme some free pizza for my pain and suffering.  Oh wait, I hit you.  My bad.  This guy talked a lot, but he'd already started the process and done most of the work of getting things rolling.

I was in the midst of blogging about being tagged last night, when I see someone pull up in front of my house and walk to my door.  I do not know this man.  I walk outside and he asked me how much I would sell him my car for.  Uh...yeah, the wrecked one.  Weird.  Do these people just drive around looking for shit like this, or did he see my accident?

He told me he was a mechanic, blah blah blah, wanted to buy a car and work on it.  I told him I'd have to wait on the insurance before I knew what I was going to do with the car.  So if the insurance totals my car, I can buy it back and sell it to him, inturn getting a few more $$.  Nice!

Not too long after Mr.Mechanic left, Mr. Dominos pulls up, without pizza.  Shit.  Oh well.  He kept talking and talking, but I wasn't paying much attention because Johnny kept scratching at the door trying to get out.  It was kind of funny.  This guy's visit was not really necessary, but okay.

He finally left and I took one of my new feel happy pills and had a beer.  Within an hour I was feeling very happy, and tired.  So I took my drugged ass to sleep.

This morning I finally got ahold of the insurance dude.  He took my info and shit and said he'd try to have someone down to estimate the damages of my car, and send me out a packet for my health issues and such.  Nice!

I got another call from the dealership of the car that I really really really REALLY want.  They can't help finance me because my car credit score is low.  What the shit is a car credit score?  Just use my REAL credit score.  Apparently it doesn't work thattaway.  Fuck fuck fuckity fuck!!!!!!

So, now I have to try and find a loan on my own, but at least I don't have to pay for any of the damages to any cars involved in the accident.  I just have a heafty fucking ticket from it.

I'm hoping this shit is over soon, because I'm already tired of fucking with it.  I just want to go back to my normal boring life with zero visitors and like 1 phonecall a day.  Is that too much to ask?  Seriously.

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