March 28, 2010

• I try to post new material once a week–at the latest, once every 10 days–and when something comes up that prevents me from maintaining my blogging schedule, I always put up a notice to let you guys know why I’m on hiatus, and how long I’ll be away. It’s the least I can do for you guys because I know you all have things to do with your time, but you choose to spend some of it on my site. Having your footprints is something I am very, very grateful for.

  This post, however, comes nearly two weeks after my last one, and was not preceded by any notice or explanation of my disappearance. That’s because this blogging break wasn’t voluntary. You see, I’ve been dealing with a mess that some douche bag gave me around the time of my last entry.

  It started when I was driving back to my apartment after spending the afternoon with my sister. We had originally planned to hang out at my place, but there had been an unusually high number of car accidents clogging the freeways that day, and it would have taken two hours to go from Los Angeles to my area. Since my sister had to work the next day, we decided instead to just do some grocery shopping and then hang out together some other time.

  As I was on the I-5 freeway…

  

  …I noticed this white car driving very, very close behind me.

  

  

  I don’t like it when people tail me, but I hate it when they do it on the freeways…and I really, really hate it when those idiots are tailing me on the I-5. I don’t know how the 5 freeway is in Northern California, Oregon, or Washington, but as far as So-Cal is concerned, there is always a slow-down somewhere along the 5. Always. Sometimes the traffic is caused by the roadwork that’s been going on since dinosaurs walked the Earth, sometimes it’s because of one or two car accidents. Regardless of the cause, the result is always the same: you will sit motionless on the I-5 at some point.

  Considering the nature of the 5 freeway, there were only two reasons why the driver had the nerve to tail me like that: she was either (1) retarded, or (2) a crappy driver.

  

  10 minutes later, I noticed the cars in front of me had all slowed to a stop–and, of course, I ended up stopping as well. But as I was preparing myself for the inevitable 25 minutes of congestion…

  

  

  My car suddenly lurched forward and struck the truck in front of me!

  

  It took a few seconds, but I eventually realized, “Holy sh*t! I’ve just been involved in a f*cking car accident!”

  I’d never been in a car accident before, and thus had no idea what it was I supposed to do at that moment. Do I grab my license and vehicle registration? Do I exchange insurance information with the piece-of-sh*t ass carrot who just plowed her car into mine? Should I forget trying to figure out the formalities and just beat her ass with a rubber hose?

  Since I’d left my beating hose at home, I decided to just get out and survey the damage to my car.

  

  Hmm…what’s the car mechanic-ish term for “hot sh*tty mess”? Because that’s what I was looking at when I saw the damage inflicted on my car: a hot sh*tty mess. The hood was lifted off its hinges, but fared better than I expected–then again, I was expecting to find it reduced to bits and pieces of metal, so finding a jacked-up hood isn’t much of a consolation, is it? As for the back of my car, the trunk compartment was still there but the parts underneath it were gone, and one of my back tires was deflated and missing its hubcap. There was more damage than what I’m describing, but thinking about it causes diarrhea pains so I’ll move on.

  I was beyond pissed–and I had a whiplash-induced headache–but I managed to keep my rationality intact long enough to call the police. I’ve known people who were in hit-and-run accidents, and there was no way I was going to let this driver get away–not like she could since almost the entire front of her car was strewn across the freeway. Speaking of the driver, she eventually came out of her car and started talking to me…

  

  Honestly, I wasn’t registering what she was saying at first. All I could think about was, “Ugh…she’s Asian.” Great, just great. Not only did this hag wreck my car, but she also set all my efforts to overcome the Asian/women-bad-driving stereotype back a few years! What’s the point of maintaining a pristine driving record now, right? And imagine how many people looked at us and thought, “Wow, Asians really can’t drive!” As for the people in the truck my car was pushed into–they were both Mexicans. It was like living a bad joke, “So a Chinese, Korean, and two Mexicans walk into a bar…” or being at an under-publicized minority rights rally.

  Anyway, the driver was trying to explain her side of the story–maybe because she thought I had the power to cut her some slack–but unfortunately, that was a judgment call I had no right to make.

  

  

  

  Okay, okay, that’s not how things really went down. The girl actually didn’t say she was sorry.

  • 5:55 pm
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