(no subject)
May. 1st, 2006 07:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cabbitzilla...
AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!
Megan decided, spur of the moment, to join Keith at a gaming con/meeting/whatever yesterday.
In Philadelphia.
I arrived home at the apartment to a note saying this. My thought was 'gee, cool, an evening alone and I can relax'. And I did so. Even my DSL going crash/boom/die for a while didn't damp things... I just shrugged it off and went to bed.
I'd -just- drifted off when I hear the answering machine chirp and suddenly there's Megan in full hysterical panic begging me to be home and pick up the phone. And that's when the madness began.
She was stranded on the shoulder of I-95, right across from Philadephia International Airport. The left rear tire was (literally, I was to find out) in shreds, the spare was utterly fucked, the PA state police had already told her she had two hours to get it off the highway or have it impounded, and three different weirdos had materialized at various points from the darkness, offering to sell her a tire, a 'genuine real honest rolex', and a dime bag.
She was a mess. I looked at the clock: 11:37PM. Dear God, it's gonna be a long night. I got her calmed down enough to get a rough idea of where she was, and got her to get in the car and lock it before someone tried to sell her a 'slightly used' kidney or something. I called my boss' cell phone and left a rambling message to let her know I wouldn't be in. And then I started trying to find clothes.
And discovered that I only had ONE pair of clean underwear, and they are definitely NOT the kind designed to be worn for more than it takes ones partner to rip them off of you, certainly not designed to be worn UNDER something, and altogether frustrating to have on knowing I'm not getting any. From anyone. I managed to find a pair of jeans loose enough to not show the ruffles, bows, and other ornamentation, and a shirt long enough to double check. And pink socks, again the only thing clean. And off I went, praying I didn't run into a roving pack of drunken rednecks, and somehow certain that if I did I'd at least die pumped full of something.
Look, when I'm this tired and sore, I'm a crass & bitter old bitch. Cope.
Two and a half hours of driving ensued. When I arrived, we had to have the car towed off the highway anyway, because of a construction zone issue. I swapped the full size wheel with the shredded and mutilated tire for the dead-but-relatively-intact spare, tossed the full size in the back of the truck, and let the rollback driver haul the Sundance up onto the bed of his truck. Now I've met more than a few tow drivers. Hell, I've BEEN a tow driver. But I never, until last night, ever met a driver that was a double for Joe Pesci's character in Goodfellas. Size, shape, hair style, eye color, accent, hand motions... I swear, Pesci went and studied THIS guy to learn the part. Bloody bizarre, that was.
Back home. Couple hours rest. BJ's Wholesale Club for a tire. Wait for it to be mounted. Come back, grab Megan, drive all the way BACK to motherfucking Philadelphia to rescue the car from the Texaco lot it'd been dumped in, and then the long drive back here.
... and I've had so much caffeine, that I now have no hope in hell of getting any appreciable sleep any time soon. Can I just go insane now? I tried to invoke Hastur out on the shoulder of the highway so my soul could be eaten and I could stop trying to put all the pieces back together, but apparently I'm overcooked, a bit on the tough/gritty side, and altogether lacking in appropriate sauceness. It's not MY fault I'm not being basted properly. Dammit.
... I need to go... flush the toilet and giggle at the swirling water. Or something similarly deranged. Anything.
I really would like a cigarette...
AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!
Megan decided, spur of the moment, to join Keith at a gaming con/meeting/whatever yesterday.
In Philadelphia.
I arrived home at the apartment to a note saying this. My thought was 'gee, cool, an evening alone and I can relax'. And I did so. Even my DSL going crash/boom/die for a while didn't damp things... I just shrugged it off and went to bed.
I'd -just- drifted off when I hear the answering machine chirp and suddenly there's Megan in full hysterical panic begging me to be home and pick up the phone. And that's when the madness began.
She was stranded on the shoulder of I-95, right across from Philadephia International Airport. The left rear tire was (literally, I was to find out) in shreds, the spare was utterly fucked, the PA state police had already told her she had two hours to get it off the highway or have it impounded, and three different weirdos had materialized at various points from the darkness, offering to sell her a tire, a 'genuine real honest rolex', and a dime bag.
She was a mess. I looked at the clock: 11:37PM. Dear God, it's gonna be a long night. I got her calmed down enough to get a rough idea of where she was, and got her to get in the car and lock it before someone tried to sell her a 'slightly used' kidney or something. I called my boss' cell phone and left a rambling message to let her know I wouldn't be in. And then I started trying to find clothes.
And discovered that I only had ONE pair of clean underwear, and they are definitely NOT the kind designed to be worn for more than it takes ones partner to rip them off of you, certainly not designed to be worn UNDER something, and altogether frustrating to have on knowing I'm not getting any. From anyone. I managed to find a pair of jeans loose enough to not show the ruffles, bows, and other ornamentation, and a shirt long enough to double check. And pink socks, again the only thing clean. And off I went, praying I didn't run into a roving pack of drunken rednecks, and somehow certain that if I did I'd at least die pumped full of something.
Look, when I'm this tired and sore, I'm a crass & bitter old bitch. Cope.
Two and a half hours of driving ensued. When I arrived, we had to have the car towed off the highway anyway, because of a construction zone issue. I swapped the full size wheel with the shredded and mutilated tire for the dead-but-relatively-intact spare, tossed the full size in the back of the truck, and let the rollback driver haul the Sundance up onto the bed of his truck. Now I've met more than a few tow drivers. Hell, I've BEEN a tow driver. But I never, until last night, ever met a driver that was a double for Joe Pesci's character in Goodfellas. Size, shape, hair style, eye color, accent, hand motions... I swear, Pesci went and studied THIS guy to learn the part. Bloody bizarre, that was.
Back home. Couple hours rest. BJ's Wholesale Club for a tire. Wait for it to be mounted. Come back, grab Megan, drive all the way BACK to motherfucking Philadelphia to rescue the car from the Texaco lot it'd been dumped in, and then the long drive back here.
... and I've had so much caffeine, that I now have no hope in hell of getting any appreciable sleep any time soon. Can I just go insane now? I tried to invoke Hastur out on the shoulder of the highway so my soul could be eaten and I could stop trying to put all the pieces back together, but apparently I'm overcooked, a bit on the tough/gritty side, and altogether lacking in appropriate sauceness. It's not MY fault I'm not being basted properly. Dammit.
... I need to go... flush the toilet and giggle at the swirling water. Or something similarly deranged. Anything.
I really would like a cigarette...
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-05-02 01:13 am (UTC)"...my tire. EXPLODED. And you want me. To move."
"Yes."
"START PUSHING, BITCH."
*HUG*
Date: 2006-05-02 01:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-02 03:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-02 11:17 am (UTC)Given my quirks when it comes to clothing (areas we've had to agree to disagree on before), would it surprise you to learn that that particular pair is the ONLY non-standard underwear I own? It's one of those areas where practicality and long-term comfort won out; the odd exception goes with a babydoll set that was bought for me. :p
no subject
Date: 2006-05-02 07:13 pm (UTC)I know I'm an old stick in the mud in most respects about that sort of thing, where as you took things too far in one direction, you seem past it. I take them too far in the other direction and I'm nowhere near past it as you.
So credit where credit is due. :) Heh, you deal with things I can't imagine dealing with.
Someone at a con once told me they like talking to me every year as my life is such a mess their life seemed easy and fun by comparison, and thir problems seemed less important.
I wasn't offeded, I was actually glad that my tough times were helping someone feel better. Your life is a big smack with the "it could be worse" side of the cluehammer for me too. Hope you don't mind. ;)
no subject
Date: 2006-05-02 07:33 pm (UTC)Offend me? OFFEND ME? Oh, HELL no. It's nice to know all those fuckups have some sort of purpose. :)
no subject
Date: 2006-05-02 06:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-02 11:24 am (UTC)I miss you. :}
no subject
Date: 2006-05-02 07:40 pm (UTC)I miss you too. You should come play golf! Yes, that's it, you must come play golf! Here, it's a linkie:
The cabbit invites you to come play Albatross18! :D