Sunday, December 23, 2007

Fucked up Fridays

Woke up Friday at 9:47am to my Dad's where the fuck are you phone call. I was supposed to be at the funeral home for my Aunt's funeral at 9:30am. And I was a pall bearer. Fuck! They couldn't have said it better in 4 Weddings and a Funeral. Fuck! I was showered, shaved, dressed in a suit and out the door in under 25 minutes. Jumped in the car and headed for.....the gas station. The warning screen in my car said Bajo Nivel de Gasolina. Fuck. Drive to the nearest gas station to find a large piece of machinery digging up the earth. Maybe I should pay more attention when I drive that way. That way I wouldn't drive out of my way because it's closer. So now I am driving further out of my way because now the next closest gas station is further from the expressway. I could have gotten back to Division and gone to a gas station near the on ramp but my gas gauge isn't just on low, it is on holy fuck you stupid mother fucker you are riding on fumes and I am going to laugh at you when you run out of gas low.

I pump my damn gas from what has to be the slowest gas pump known to man. My cousin calls she is lost. My dad calls, how close are you? 45 minutes. Dead silence. See you at the church. OK. I make it there in 30.

I am surprised to see that my cousin and her family are actually dressed up. Well dressed up for them. At the wake the day before my cousin was wearing whatever she fell into that day, including gym shoes and no socks. Her oldest son was wearing jeans and some t-shirt with a dragon on it. Her daughter sweat pants and a sweat shirt with stains on it. And the youngest son who is six but cannot speak was in what appeared to be a pajama top and jeans.

At the funeral my cousin actually managed a dress, not a nice dress but at least a dress. She was still in gym shoes and no socks. Her husband was in a bright green dress shirt and an almost matching tie. No jacket. He probably chose this because the oldest son was wearing his nicer more appropriately subdued blue dress shirt and matching tie. The jacket was probably also dad's, gauging from the size. Oh and gym shoes. Everybody owns at least one pair of not gym shoes don't they.

If I would have written this on Friday I would have barely alluded to the white trashiness of my cousin and her family because I was a little to preoccupied.

After the lunch that was a very nice place in a suburb I have never heard of, I headed home in Friday afternoon traffic. I was a good forty plus miles from home sweet home. By then the oh fuck I can't believe I'm late adrenaline rush had long passed and the general anxiety and nervousness of attending a family member's funeral was fading and the effects of the just consumed large meal and only 8-9 hours of sleep in 3 days were taking effect. The radio seemed vaguely distant and my eyelids were fairly heavy and I actually remember thinking I hope I don't fall asleep.

Just before I RAN INTO A FUCKING PICKUP TRUCK! FUCK! Double fuck! That'll wake you up in a hurry. I first slam the car into park and then back into drive and pull over to the fucking shoulder. I really don't need this right now. As the pickup pulled forward I noticed that there was no apparent damage to his truck. What I also noticed but did not appreciate until I got out of the car was the 9-12 inches of steel trailer hitch. That must have had a good time tearing into the front of my car. My grill looked like Leon Spinks after going a good 15 rounds. And my hood was lifted up like a bad toupee on a windy day! Fuck. Like I need this. Did I say that already. Fuck!

The good thing is that I didn't fuck up this guys truck. Luckily I was able to say good bye to him with an apology and a handshake. Now I am going to have to pay to fix my damn car. Don't ask me why I don't have collision insurance I don't have an answer.


I know how I am going to pay for the damn car. I just don't know how I am going to do the things I was planning to do with the money.

It is going to be a grand new year.

Merry Christmas

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