Published Tuesday December 6th, 2005

My, my.. I’ve been such a good blogger these past few days! All you other fellow bloggers should follow my lead! Give me something to read.

Here’s a fun story: After school today (Monday), Matt and I were waiting at the intersection of Carmen Dr. and Daily Dr. after visiting Big Lots. After some waiting, the light turns green and I thinking to myself, “Hrm. It’s green. I guess I should go.” And so I do. As I begin to ease off the clutch and onto the accelerator I notice that the lady in the turn-lane diagonal to the right of me has an expression on her face of, “Oh my god! / *gasp!*” I then notice a car moving towards me out of the corner of my right eye. Auto-pilot/instincts take over and my car comes to a screeching halt (and consequentially stalls.) I see my license plate frame in the air… and a car right in front of me. Woosh, right past the very front of my car. There it went.

At this point Matt and I are both kind of dumbfounded. We both smelled burning rubber in the air. It felt as though everyone else at the intersection was just staring at us, waiting for me to make a move. I see the car pull over, off to the side of the road and I figure.. “Hrm.. I guess I’ll go over there too.” So I do. Pull over. Wait for the person in the other car to make a move while thinking, “Now what?” While she probably ends her phone call, or stops picking her nose, or finishes straightening her hair, or whatever it was that she was doing, I get out of my car and asses the damage to my Civic. Nothing really. A little scratch to my front bumper, and a missing license plate frame. Nothing to make a big deal about.

I approach her by her car. She exchanges pleasantries with me along the lines of, “Are you Okay!?” To which I respond, “Uhh.. yea.” She then asks, “What happened!?” (Read: “What ever did just happen!?”) To which I respond, with a slightly mocking undertone, “Uhh.. You drove through a red.”
“Really!?”
“..H-yea..”
“Oh.”
A very brief moment of awkward silence ensued while this short, approximately 25-30 year old woman with a lot of acne assessed the damage to her car (some scratches on her rims, and little marks on her paint-job by her passenger side door.
She stated, “Oh-that’ll wash right off.”
“Uhh … -!?!?!?!- … huh.”
“So what do we do now? I guess I’ll give you my number.” As she begins to jot her phone number on a 3x5” index card.
“… Sure.” And I get her my number.
We glance at each other’s driver’s licenses as if actually knowing the procedure in which to engage post-accident, and soon found ourselves on our marry ways.

The fun part to this story is that, had I not seen her coming towards my car, and were I unable to stop right in front of her as she drove by, I would very likely not be writing this entry at this time. She was going a good 35-40 mph and would have likely driven right into the side of or around my drivers-side door. Good stuff. Exciting times. Great fun.

So I guess I can’t say that I got hit. That wouldn’t technically be accurate. Instead, I suppose I’ll have to say that I got scraped. Ha ha. I can’t say I’ve ever been in a car-scrape before, but the last time I was in a car accident was in Switzerland, just about a year ago.


I bought more vinyl last Friday. I want it to arrive. I hope that it’ll be here tomorrow. That would be nice. Then I would be able to spin it. Yes. Splendid that’ll be.

Hrm.. I guess that’s all I’ve got for this entry. When stuff happens then I have stuff to write about. Funny how that is.