23 August 2011

Post #38

As most of you know (or goddamn should if you follow me) I was in a small fender bender a few weeks ago.  I was in a rental vehicle as my car was in the shop.  The fact that it was being repaired for a similar accident should be null and void, and it is...because I said so.  Moving on.  The lady at Circle K who came into contact with me assumed that my silence was an allusive "declaration" of my fault.  Wrong bitch.  I kept my mouth shut because I knew how this story would end.  I would be responsible for my damage and she would be for her own.  I filed a claim with my insurance company.  Fast forward three weeks later...

My phone jing-a-lings.  Not a number I recognize, but I answer.  Took me about twenty seconds to realize what was going on as the psycho twat starting spewing crap the moment I picked up.  She explained that she was going to call the cops and have them issue me a citation for not having proof of insurance at the scene of the crime, she was also going to promptly take me to small claims court.  It took me another four seconds before I hung up on her without saying a word.

What happened during the 30 seconds (1/2 a minute to be dramatic about it) following call: I got a chance to explain to my dad what just happened on the phone.  He expressed the desire to answer if she called back.  She did, and he did.


What happened during the next 24 seconds:  My dad answered, listened, and then gave his input. "Go ahead and call the FUCKING cops!"

Point of this story?  My dad and I have the exact same asshole tolerance level.

Couldn't even get through the better half of a minute.
I realize now this is probably the swiftness in which men  block out
a nagging girlfriend. 


Bumper to Bumper,

Katie E. Eshelman

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