ZX-Car Wrecks, Dodger Blue, And Party Aftermath
Oh for crying out loud. Was running a little late for a Dodger game to meet my friend, her new man, and a blind date whose daddy happens to own the Dodgers. Thought I'd spruce myself up a bit and had my purse and makeup bag open on my lap when I looked up at a row of STOPPED cars. Slammed on the brakes only to plow into a tiny Nissan in front of me, who plowed into an SUV in front of her. The airbag deployed and not only burned my wrists, but somehow snared the handles of my purse, so my idiot vanity was on permanent display.
I headed out of the car to see what I'd done. The woman was sitting, very shaken up, in her demolished vehicle. The license plate was ripped off and the back window was shattered and there was fluid and random car parts all over the street. "Oh my God! Are you okay?" I asked her. "I'm so sorry.""Yeah, I'm fine but... I can't move my legs." This was a possibility I had not even considered. About twelve seconds later, she got out and walked over to me and asked to use my phone. She said she was just in shock and probably fine.
My car is brand new and doesn't have license plates. In addition, I just changed insurance companies to combat the expense of a 111mph. ticket disaster, and didn't have the car paperwork yet. So both parties were more than a little suspicious of me, and I felt like a criminal as we exchanged information. I was so relieved that no one was hurt. The accident kind of snapped me out of a negative funk I've been in lately. Seriously, thank goodness for insurance. We'll probably be able to go on with our lives relatively unscathed.
My friends picked me up and we went to the Dodger game anyway, but I don't think I'm cut out to be the heiress to the Dodgers. Perfectly nice guy, but I think the setup was flawed. If you're going to play matchmaker, you have to let nature take its course. My friend orchestrated it so I would be sitting next to Mr. Dodger and obviously she'd shared her design with both of us, but I was freezing and thinking trepidatiously of tomorrow's accident aftermath hell, and will I have time for all the necessary phone calls since I'll be on set all day? I probably was not as ebullient as one would wish on a blind date. At least the Dodgers won, but it's really the least they could do for all the effort I put into my arrival.
The pinata enchilada fiesta on Saturday was terrific-I failed to buy a rope to suspend my colorful candy caballero, so we pitched it to blindfolded batters. Almost took someone's face off and got a nasty letter cc'ing my landlord from my new neighbor, but fun just the same. I thought I had painstakingly cleaned everything up only to go into the bathroom the next morning and look with terror through the shower door at my dad's ferret, who was the life of the party, drowned in the bathtub. Opened the door, and thank God, was not the ferret after all, was just a pile of vomit. Closed the door for a second to regain my composure and think, what kind of a person did this? Why not vomit in the toilet? And judging by the volume of enchiladas in the tub, they would have had to do some serious drinking to puke at all. I only provided two bottles of two buck Chuck from Trader Joe's, alcohol not being my current priority. Also, assuming the person was SITTING on the toilet, they would have had to be supernaturally tall to even reach their head into the tub at all... Hmm. Strange and disgusting mystery. I cleaned it up, retching and squirming the whole time, and mentally going over my list of guests for the culprit. Aha! Definitely the prowler.
