"Any day above ground is a good day." - Chris
This blog post was supposed to be a light-hearted one.
I was going to talk about our party on Friday night, and how Ian spend most of the evening wearing our newly christened "stupid helmet" (a 1980s style Jofa) because he invented the dumbest word ever while trying to get someone's attention - "Whippety-Whip".
It was supposed to be about the hockey game I went to on Saturday night, where a fellow reporter there, commenting on an ugly player in a fight, said "It's always dangerous to fight an ugly guy because they've got nothing to lose."
Instead though, this blog is about how, late Saturday night, me, Chris, and Jenna almost died.
Seriously.
At midnight, after I got home from work and the rest of the crew got home from losing their cash at the casino, the three of us decided to go to Boston Pizza. So we drove along, and then, out of absolutely nowhere (and going over 100 km/h) some fucker in a 1984 Lincoln Town Car rear ended us, crushing Chris's car into a cube, with me in the backseat. We all got out with minimal injuries, although my ribs feel like they're broken - emergency room says they aren't though.
Then, to add insult to injury, the bastard who hit us took off. Thankfully, the cops found his car abandoned 3 minutes up the road. His insurance info - address, name - is written on the police report, and it was all I could do not to go over to his house and pound the living shit out of him. Instead though, I was in the hospital getting checked out - and thanks to our wonderful health care system we were all there til 5 a.m.
Chris' car is, unfortunately, a total write-off, which fucking sucks because I loved that car. So did everybody. But when the car's trunk is in the backseat, there's not much that can be done to fix it. My glasses got busted too - a fireman found them, along with my hat, 50 feet behind the car. I have no idea how they got there.
Everyone I talked to - firemen, paramedics, cops, tow truck drivers - were all shocked that the three of us walked away from the accident. Absolutely shocked. If you could see chris' car, you'd probably think somebody died in there. That's what a paramedic, who no doubt has seen her fair share of accidents, said to me as I sat in an ambulance.
So that was my weekend. Now, I'll sit and hold my ribs. And whine. And hope that Chris gets a lot of money for his car, and hope that we all get enough cash for our sufferin', and that I get my $1000 for my glasses relatively quickly.
Oh, and if R. Donnelly gets hauled off to jail for hit and run, and fucked in the ass with a broken broomstick while he's there, that'd be OK too.
Fuck him.
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