For a while now I've been meaning to make a c-blog peppered with funny pictures I've taken on my cellphone. However, due to events that occurred Monday, a good amount of them had to be deleted. Maybe it's for the best, though; my idea of funny really isn't agreed upon by conventional reality. Man, it would have been epic though, a whole shrine dedicated to my facial hair, ranging from moustache,
clean shaven,
to bandana.
But no, this blog is not about my fat dog
or retards on the road.
It's no longer about propaganda at work
or my recently Red Ringed 360 (which should be back in my possession before the end of the week).
It's about my car.
For those of you not in the know, I drive a 99' Chevrolet Lumina (with a Creepy Cream finish, I might add!), in addition to bringing the kids to soccer practice and making trips to the Super Wal Mart to restock my house's supply of scented toilet-paper, my car has many uses.
For one, it's where I get most of my news (and keeps my erection discreet while listening to Terry Gross), and serves as a cafeteria with a max-capacity of one when I'm at school and anti-socially eating lunch. It also has a healthy fascination with booobs.
Yesterday, my car took its final bows. I was involved in a pretty brutal car accident on my school's campus, which has rendered my car inoperable. I've prepared a short .GIF to help explain how it happened.
If you don't want to wait for the .GIF to go back to the beginning, click
here to see it.
You read that right. Flipped. The. Fuck. Over.
I'm pretty sure the whole thing happened in under five seconds, and I remember all of it in great detail. I was in my car listening to the Brian Lehrer Show. It was lightly raining. A caller, named "Arturo (which, coincidentally is the name of some midget that Penn Jillette is friends with)" was babbling on about how he's a "displaced Brooklynite," when I saw someone pulling out of the parking-lot on my left side. As I approached the intersection, I noted that the other car was most likely either going to make a left on the road I was on, or cross through the intersection and head towards the BioScience Center. I assumed he was going to yield to me before hitting said intersection (where I had the right of way). He didn't.
I realized that he wasn't going to stop too late; I couldn't brake, lest I wanted him to hit me for sure. I made the only move I could, and attempted to accelerate past him. I didn't quite get past him, so he hit my back driver side door (fairly hard). The impact at that angle sent me skidding at about a 45 degree angle, all the while my foot was still on the gas. My new trajectory was sending me over the left curb, onto the grass median (and toward oncoming traffic). I cut the wheel to the right, took my foot off the gas and tapped the brake. I then hit the right curb (fairly hard, at a weird angle), which flipped my car over. The car was in the air for a split second, and then it landed on the street and skid for a couple of feet.
The whole while I was completely conscious and uninjured; no whiplash or anything. I remember the exact thoughts that I had. When he first hit me, all I did was cringe and put on my "game-face." When I was in the air (and skidding on the ground), I ducked my head down, pulled my arms in a bit, and reassured myself (outloud) that I wasn't hurt. It was a pretty fun ride.
So there I was. Upside down in my car, being held in by my seat belt. When I took it off, I landed on the (inside, duh) roof of my car on my knees. The passenger-side door window shattered, and my books and lunch were strewn across the cabin of the car. Immediately someone ran over to me and was flipping a shit (who wouldn't?). I tried opening the driver-side door, but because the roof was crushed neither door could open. After telling the person outside that I was uninjured, I decided that waiting for the jaws of life wasn't something I wanted to do, so I broke what glass was left away from the passenger-side window, and squeezed myself through it (had I not been paranoid that my car was going to blow up with me inside of it [thanks Hollywood!], I would have taken more precaution and probably would have avoided my shattered-glass wounds).
As it turned out, the first person who came to my aid was the kid who hit me. Who immediately hugged me and said "Thank god you're alright." Yes. It was god that saved me. Not my seat belt. Not the sturdy steel frame of the car. But god. Fucking tool...
The kid was kind of a douche. Squirrelly-looking, Jesus-badge-brandishing, urban-speech-talking (he later recounted that he thought the red tranny fluid "coming out of my whip was" my "blood") as he was, he seemed nice enough (if I wanted to get REALLY cynical here I could say: "Who wouldn't be really nice when you just caused someone else's car to flip the fuck over?").
The campus police were there in seconds, as the accident happened right across the street from their headquarters (located!). They gave me gauze for my hand, and made me sign something that stated that I was declining an ambulance. They (I think) filled out a police report, and asked me and the other guy the usual questions.
I walked around looking for someone who witnessed the crash, and to my dismay the kid who hit me kept following me around... touching me... and calling me "brah"... God DAMNIT man, you just fucked up my hoopty (in the parlance of our time) and I'm really trying to hold back the urge to call you a fucking moron to your face. I found some kid who saw it. Exchanged names and numbers with him, all that jazz.
The campus police officers then came up to me and bluntly stated that I was blocking their road, and that if I didn't call a tow truck in the next five minutes, that they'd do it for me. The fucks.
I had my brother (who works in an auto garage) call in a tow truck, and eventually went to the hospital (just to make sure nothing was fucked). Unless Stony Brook Medical Hospital's sonograms and CAT scans missed something, the only injury that I sustained through the whole thing was minor glass wounds on my right hand.
Well, that's it. I'm car-less and Xbox-less, but at least I've still got my left hand and a bugina. Speaking of which, here's that SFW n00d pic of my fucking lady friend (She's not my special lady, she's my fucking lady friend.) that I promised you guys.
Hmm. Kind of looks like the doppelganger of the offspring of the Michelin Man and the Juggernaut.
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