Saturday, December 08, 2007


I noticed the brake lights go off on the car far ahead of me. I couldn't even tell what kind of car it was, it was so far away. But I pressed on my brake and slowed down.

Then I noticed they hadn't just put on their brake, but stopped. On the freeway. Going 65MPH.

I laid down on my brakes and felt my blood pressure rise. My small stuffed bear that sat under my back window flew to under a seat, and my Victoria's Secret Dog slide forward and almost fell off as well. My purse came off the passengers seat and lodged itself under my glove compartment, and my tires started to slide.

My brakes had locked up, and I was skating as if on ice towards the car in front of me. At this point I thought I'd skid to a stop because I was still so far away, but my body was frozen while my car careened forward, smoke spilling from under the tires.

I got closer and closer, and it felt like forever. Eventually I realized I was going to collide with this car. I cringed, prepared, said "Oh No!" and closed my eyes.


I opened my eyes and saw the car in front of me pulling forward. I was puzzled; didn't he know I had hit him? Where was he going?

It took me a moment to realize his bumper was rubber, and I had bounced back. I checked my brakes again, this time they worked like nothing had been wrong, and I pulled off to the side of the road.

I was sick with worry. This guy was going to kill me. I'd kill anyone who had rear-ended me. He's going to be so mad. I didn't want to get yelled at for something my death-trap of a car did to me. It was my fault, but it wasn't. I felt like such a victim.

He got out of his car and looked at his bumper, which thankfully looked free from any damage. I couldn't even imagine how hard I had hit him. I'd been slowing down the whole time, but I'd started out around 60MPH.

"I am so sorry!" I said, running over to him. "My brakes, they...I'm so sorry. I can't believe that just happened. Is your car alright?"

"Yeah, actually, it just looks like a scratch. I barely missed the guy in front of me, he stopped dead for no reason at all, it's his fault. Do you want my insurance information? I don't have any damage, but you can have mine if you want."

"Not if don't want mine, my car has all the damage. I'm so sorry!" I couldn't stop apologizing. I was still in shock, I was having a hard time dealing with the fact that my car just betrayed me.

"Are you okay?" The man asked, seeing my obvious spiral into despair.

"No, I'm fine," I lied, then said "I'm so sorry!"

"Okay, well I'm kind of already late for something, so I'm going to go, as long as you are okay."

"No, no, go, I'm sorry to keep you! I'm so sorry I hit you!"

He pulled away, but I stayed awhile, freaking out. I got back into my car and went to the gym, where I was headed in the first place. I ran a mile and a half on the treadmill, then got stuck in traffic on the way home.

Stuck in traffic is where the shock wore off, and the whiplash came in full force. The tears came flowing forth, and I laid my head on the steering wheel and sobbed.

I was driving a death machine. And I have to pay off $12,000 more before I can get rid of it.

Sunday, December 02, 2007


I was in heaven.

My city had finally seen it fit to outfit us with an H & M. That wonderful place where things fit and don't cost that much. Those wonderful Swedish designers keep me clothed. I've already spent $60 there and they haven't even been open for two weeks.

During my third visit I was rounding the corner into the dressing rooms when a woman caught my attention. She was wearing one of those tiny vests and jeans, sort of like this:
Only she was busting out of everything. It was not pretty. She strode past me with an air of insolence, so that make me think that she worked there. Still, I couldn't hide my disgust of her choice of outfit. Not only was it not fitting well, but it looks like she was missing the cute white shirt that should have gone under the vest. Thankfully, she didn't see me.

However, I did see the same look I was wearing on the salesgirl ahead. Obviously vest girl didn't work there if she was looking on with such disdain. I couldn't help but to smile at her.

Her eyes traveled to me and immediately her features changed to embarrassment. I handed her the outfits I wanted to try on and she said "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to stare it at her, it's just that..." I whispered to her; "Well, I didn't want to say anything."

Again, she started to apologized, but I stopped her. "Please, everyone in this room was thinking the same thing you were, don't worry about it."