Well, that’s a buncha BS
I got rear ended the other day…and not in the good way.
My car is wrecked , my back and neck are all achy, and I am pissed as all hell.
How you gonna slam into me at 35 miles an hour…while I am STOPPED AT A FUCKING RED LIGHT? Thanks lady, ya made my day. Actually, besides that, it wasn’t a terrible day. I mean, I got to get my head strapped to a board and ride in an ambulance! Who doesn’t love that kinda good time? Oh…and the X-Rays? C’mon! Let me stand here in this freezing ass cold room with nothing but a sheet on to cover my bits, and a neck brace immobilizing me, only to have total strangers wrench and tug at my head trying to get, “The Perfect Shot.”
Oh, and can I tell you how fun it is to call my boyfriend at the crack of dawn, “Good morning baby! How’s your day? Mmmhmm, yeah? Ya don’t say! Well, me? Yeah, I got in a really bad car accident a few minutes ago. You wouldn’t mind jumping in your car and coming to rescue me, as my car has to be towed, and my body will either be in the ER or the morgue shortly.”
Obviously, I survived. Here I am, another day to bitch to you all. Aren’t you the lucky bunch?
That said, here are my complaints for the week:
1) My car is busted.
2) My BlackBerry is having fits of rage. It keeps shutting off when it gets sick of my shit.
3) My head and body are aching like a mofo.
4) J has a show in Seattle tomorrow, which come hell or highwater, I will be at, but as I stated above: busted car and achy body.
5) J helped me with my meds, only to find that my body rejects narcotics like a bad kidney. That poor guy felt awful for putting me through the pharmaceutical nightmare that followed the accident. And it could have only been made worse by the fact that I was up all night long kvetching and carrying on about how shitty I think vicodin and flexirill are.
6) I have so much shit to do and no time or energy to do one tiny bit of it.
7) The insurance companies can lick my sweaty balls.
Oh, and can I say this? Hey lady…whose name I will leave out here…QUIT FUCKING CALLING ME! You’re on your own! I am not your bitch and my shit doesn’t come free. You want me to work? PAY ME. I’m sick of people.
As I look back and the useless rantings I have spewed forth this evening, I realize that I am in dire need of sleep. No one cares about anything I have just said. Save for me, anyways. Maybe my mind will snap back into something worth bragging about here pretty soon.
A-fuckin’-dieu.