I reached an important milestone in my life after school yesterday: my very first car accident! Basically another girl didn't see me coming because of a third car stopped to turn and she turned right in front of me. I couldn't stop in time and rammed into her back passenger door. Everybody was fine, but she's tiny and sensitive, so she was shaken up a bit. Luckily we sorta kinda know each other, so at least it wasn't some douchebag or an angry old man. Her car definitely took a lot more damage than mine. I just have some paint smears, a dent in my front bumper, and a crack in my headlight. Her passenger door was completely folded in, and her frame was fucked up.
We had to wait an hour in the hot sun for the cops to finally arrive and file a report. They determined that the accident was her fault and not mine because I had the right of way. Her dad, who ironically used to be my therapist for only a few sessions, was trying to say I was speeding and therefore the whole thing was my fault. I hate that guy. He's a loon. The poor girl got a pricey ticket for an improper left turn. I don't think the ticket was necessary, just added insult to injury. She wasn't driving like a reckless maniac, she just made a mistake. So I felt pretty bad, albeit very relieved that I got the better end of the deal.
So now I'm fully aware of how bad-assly tough my car really is. And my dad always said he hated Fords. Psh. Please.
Speaking of my old man, he's being an asshole. For awhile there we were getting along nicely, no problems at all. But as soon as we have a little disagreement, I'm reminded of his unchangeable douchefuckery. Since I have to work on Sunday he wants me drive my car to his house, which is fifteen miles away, so I can drive myself to work. I agreed since he's willing to pay me gas money, plus I've been dying to take my car on the highway. Then I told him that since I'm driving there, I'll just come Saturday afternoon instead of the typical Friday night.
And then things went sour. He wanted me to abide by all of his suggestions when he's the one who's always throwing the term "compromise" in my face. Bitch, I am seventeen years old. If I'm using MY gas and putting miles on MY car to get to HIS house when it is HIS responsibility to make sure I get there, then I want to show up when I prefer to show up.
First of all, most teens my age don't have to put up with this every-other-weekend visitation bullshit. Most dads allow their teen daughters to come to their house whenever they like because THEY understand that their daughters have lives. Second of all, it's not like he's gonna miss out on quality time together. Friday nights we just vegetate in front of the TV in silence and Saturday morning I'm sleeping.
Ugh. So hopefully this will all be sorted out tonight. It wouldn't surprised me if he ended up calling the cops or something. He's done that to me before.
Tomorrow's Brittany's birthday. So it's doubtful we'll be doing anything this weekend. I dunno. Maybe all this utter failure to hang out outside of school is fate's little hint that it's not meant to be. She's gonna be eighteen, which means having awesome sex with her legally is out of the question :P
Today Brittany gave blood, 'cause she's a sweetheart, even though she shares my huge fear of needles. And when the needle went under her skin, she started crying! AWWWWWWW. I wish I would've been there to comfort her. I've only seen her shed a few secret tears once during journalism, and my whole heart just collapsed. I couldn't imagine actually seeing her really for real crying.
But yeah, the nurse said her veins are really small, so somehow that led to her spurting blood and losing half the bag she donated. So her arm was all sore and bandaged up and I had to help her get her book bag on, WHICH MEANT BRUSHING HER HAIR OUT OF THE WAY AND TOUCHING HER IN NON-INTIMATE WAYS BUT ARE STILL AWESOME REGARDLESS OF THEIR TOTAL NON-SUGGESTIVE NATURE.
Yeah, Brittany has a thing about people touching her. Like at all. It's not that she's afraid of human contact, she just doesn't prefer it. Which makes flirting with her very difficult and risks annoying her. So this opportunity was golden. Her hair feels like silky happiness and rainbows. For just a brief second I believed that there really was a capital-g God who wanted to give me this heavenly moment of Brittany-hair-touching. Sigh.
On a completely unrelated note, my cat is diabolical. She jumped on the table where I left my cheese sandwich and walked all around it and junk but didn't actually eat it. So when I returned to finish said sandwich, it was covered in icky cat hair. So I gave the rest to her, which was totally her plan the entire time. Puff, you evil genius, you.