February 04, 2006 - 3:45 pm
If it seems that this entry was written with a certain tone that indicates that I might be sitting uncomfortably, it's because my ass is still red from Thursday night.
Now, I'm sure you're all thinking, "MEGAN! I thought you said you were going to quit going to those clubs! You promised!"
I did.
The reason I'm sore of cheek right now is because I did my first bit of notable damage to my car on Thursday night, and only because I tried to avoid hitting some stupid college kids with pizzas.
I was driving back to da club to get some bourbon for my babymaker right around midnight. I'm passing the Cottage Inn at Packard and Hill, for those of you following along at home. It was dark, raining, and these kids weren't necessarily decked out in hunter orange. I guess they decided that they really had to get back to the party, and instead of waiting for the road to be clear, they were going to cross one half of it and wait at the halfway point for me to pass. Of course, what I saw in the dark rainy madness were two or three dark humanoid shapes about two feet from my car and getting closer. Since I was not too hip on a vehicular manslaughter charge (it being a weeknight and all), I swerved to the right to avoid hitting them and got a good healthy dose of curb for my efforts. Shaken but unharmed, I shake my fist and utter a few choice expletives before gingerly rolling away, happy that I still had four wheels on my car and no freshmen on my hood.
Now here's the awesome part: I made it to the club with no problems. However, when I went back to my car, my tire was flat as flat as flat...like, my chest in 5th grade flat. Luckily, I had my favorite Hathaway on hand to help me get the spare on and though this happened just as everyone I've ever known was leaving their respective drinking place, meaning a lot of "No, really...we're alright" and all that, and it was raining and cold and it really sucked...it still wasn't that bad. I made it home in one piece.
Here's the most awesome part of all, even awesomer than that last part: I take my car up to trusty ol' Belle Tire the next day, and not only do I need a new tire, but my wheel is bent (though, they guess, fixable), and my alignment is off. That's $155, please.
Next time, I'm just gonna save myself the trouble and swerve in the other direction. Fuck the kids.
