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Monday, August 14, 2006 

When You Are A Girl

being pissed off is stupid.

I don't have problems with my car. Oh, my tires may need replacing, the oil changed more often than is a good sign, and my brakes tend to wear out right on schedule, but other than that? Zip, zero, nada.

That car is good to go.

And although this sounds gay, I credit it to the fact that I prayed for that car. I needed a good car for cheap because I was so broke that I was subsisting on white rice and ramen. I started dating again just for the occasional free meal! So there I was, car stolen, praying for a good vehicle and then came along the pontiac.


I payed two thousand bucks for it three years ago and the thing is an indestructable monster.

Also, as a side note, every car that my parents have ever had a hand in are NIGHTMARES! Absofuckinlute nightmares. They break down all the fucking time! And of course, being a young student as I was for years, I never had the money to fix them. I don't know how many times my mom put 2 grand into a car that was only worth 15oo while I screamed and ranted that the car was a pos, I didn't want her help, even though I might desperately need it.

Prior to this I bought a car off of a lot in order to pay monthly insane payments just to escape the dictatorship that is my mother. Why in the fuck is she bat shit crazy? Who in the fuck MAKES their daughter put two grand into a car that's practically on bricks?

So I bought a car off of a lot and never had a problem. It was so sweet. Then I decided to go back to school and started to save up money to buy a vehicle outright and sell mine. It was in pretty decent shape.

Then someone totalled it.

Cue to the scene where I pull up to my parents house, ask whose car is out front, and they say, "Yours."

And so began the car nightmare AGAIN. Piece of shit toyota broke down all THE FUCKING TIME, overheating, leaving me on the side of the road because a spark plug FLEW out of the engine, seriously, this car was crappy.

But can you really tell your parents, "Thanks for buying me a car, but no thanks. I don't want a pickup, especially one that been driven through bushes a million times, has power nothing, ripped seats, and no stereo."

Where I come from that's called ingrateful and grounds for the guilt trip of a lifetime.

So I kept it. Ugg. Then, thank god, I totalled it! And the lady who helped me total it? I almost punched her in the face and then told her to get back in her car before I did something causing my arrest!

It was really a sweet day.

So cue where my mom has to help me get a loan for a NEW car.

Jesus fucking christ. Why can't that joke about starving students be a mere myth? Whatever.

So now I had a Honda, it was so cute and sweet, AND IT HAD POWER WINDOWS!

I loved it. I was so in love. I was so stupid.

First the brakes went out, then something else I've blacked out, then the battery left me stranded, then something else so it had to be towed to the shop, and then? The grand finale?


It was so great. I owned the car for six months and had put over a grand of work into it and then it got stolen. Can you say, SUH-WEET?

But fuck it. I payed less than what the car was worth so after yelling at my insurance company for 48 hours straight, possibly more, I got the loan money, the grand I put into it, and three thousand on top of it.

They were so pissed, but fuck 'em. Money grubbing bastards. My cousins point out that they must keep my file handy, just so they'll be ready for the next car I murder.

But I bought this car outright, paid off my mother, and never looked back. And so far, so good.

Until my tire blew out forty miles from home while I was visiting my mother. It only seemed logical that she would take it to a tire place next to her while I took her vehicle to work. I guess you could say I made a deadly deadly mistake when I let her touch my vehicle.

Because before you knew it, oh the alignment needed to be done, some belts about to give out, this fan looks old, and oh, by the way, you need a brand fucking new radiator on a car that doesn't leak, and never overheats.

Do you think she called me to verify that this work needed to be done? Oh no. She authorized it. And since Friday my car has leaked, overheated, and left me stranded.

How much did all this shit that I didn't need cost? A thousand bucks. That's right. She authorized a thousand bucks of work to be done on a vehicle that only cost me 1900, is ten years old, and has 160 thousand fucking miles.

Why did she do this? Because she hates me. She hates my guts.

I almost missed an important meeting today, I inconvenienced a ton of people trying to get from point A to point B, and also? Work? What is that? Some sort of pipe dream?

Last night, standing over my engine with the hood up, I contemplated kicking the fucking car, but my shoes are pointy in the front and lack the power a good boot kick would do, so I went to punch the wall, but I remembered it was brick and would really fucking hurt, I contemplated punching the car but didn't want to add to my costs and so finally I did the only thing I could do, I removed all my jewelry and threw it.

Yes, I threw my jewelry, cussed, and then took off my shoes and threw those too.

Not only does being a girl completely suck, I broke my bracelet.


I Can't Help You Now - Look, I have two songs on my hard drive that don't have the name 'iTunes' tatooed to their asses, so suck it
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