Tag Archives: car problems

I Survived My Birthday

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Well, after almost three days of being off the grid, we got power back a few hours ago. I honestly feel kind of guilty, since we were managing just fine, and on the news tonight they showed all of the damage and further safety issues throughout the state. We could have had it so much worse, and yet now we have power and it’s almost like nothing happened here, while much of the state is at risk for flooding, is still off the grid, and suffered a lot of property damage.

Still, I also feel like we’re very lucky, and I’m very grateful. We spent the last few days cooking on the gas stove in our apartment. We lost a lot of food, but managed to save some of it, too. Last night, Mike, Lauren, and I walked around the corner to Mary’s house and played games by candlelight with Sandy, Mary, and Taylore. We had a lot of fun.

Saturday night, before Irene hit, we had everything ready; Mom and Dad had stocked up on water, batteries, and non-perishable food, I got Squirt’s cat carrier ready, I packed a bag of clothes just in case we had to evacuate, and we all tried to sleep without much luck. By the time Irene hit, though, it was only a tropical storm — which still does a lot of damage, but less than a hurricane, so Connecticut was fairly lucky, relatively speaking. I’m glad we didn’t have to evacuate or go into the cellar, because Biz Noni — my great-grandmother — would have had to go outside in it, and the thought of that really bothered me.

We also faced the possibility of looting and home invasions. Like Dad said, people get desperate and you just never know, so he loaded up the shotgun and we all, I think, slept with one eye open. It was a little unnerving, in the middle of a completely pitch black neighborhood that isn’t all that safe to begin with. Still, we didn’t have any major problems, and I’m more grateful than I could ever possibly express.

Unfortunately, we’re kind of back to reality, and my reality right now is my car, affectionately known as Ellie. It shit the bed a couple of days before the storm; poor Mike was driving by himself, and it literally died in the middle of the road. Right now it’s up in the BJ’s parking lot, and we have no idea what’s wrong with it. For the last few weeks, it’s been smelling like burning rubber after driving it for a while, but there wasn’t any smoking or anything wrong that I could see, so we don’t even know yet if it’s the same problem. Dad’s going to look at it tomorrow, now that we’re out of the “dark” and my sister Lauren is moved back into her dorm.

So yeah, it’s been an exciting week. I can definitely say I’ve never had this exciting of a birthday. Luckily, we had cake on Saturday, so at least I got my ice cream cake before we lost power Sunday, on my actual birthday. I think that would have added insult to injury, as shallow as that might sound. My mom and dad got me the Lungs album by Florence + the Machine, and I can’t stop listening to it. It’s really, really good. I’m pretty obsessed with it, and can already tell it’s going to be one of the CDs I will have owned for years and have come close to wearing out.

Today, the 31st, is Mike’s and my five-year anniversary. He had some super secret, big plans for my birthday and our anniversary, but because of the car it’s going to be a while. We’re still going out to dinner I think, because he said Mom and Dad told him he could borrow Mom’s car to take me out to dinner. As crazy as this might sound, I think a quiet night out will be more than enough of a gift in my eyes, after the week we all had.

If you’re on the East Coast, how are you faring after Miss Irene came to visit? I hope you’re safe.

Going crazy, wanna come?

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I’m broke. My pharmacy tried to kill me. My uterus feels as if there were a kitten inside of it trying to claw its way out.

Ah, yes. It’s good to be me.

Between doctors appointments and being sick, my check was… a lot less this week, and will be… even more less next week. Normally, I’d tap into my savings account, but I’ve already done that. The money in there is supposed to go toward repairs for my car: mounts, brakes, blower motor. I have a little money left in my business account, but tax season will soon be upon us and I would sort of like to be able to pay said taxes without scrambling or resorting to selling oregano as marijuana. (I’m totally kidding about that last part. Please don’t come after me, FBI.)

So I’m a little tight for money. I have yet to buy my mom a birthday present, even though her birthday was two weeks ago. I feel like the biggest jerk alive, even though she says she doesn’t care. Of course she doesn’t care! She’s my mom. But I still feel like she deserves so much, and I can’t even give her one little birthday gift.

On top of all of the being broke, my pharmacy has it out for me. Somewhere along the line, someone screwed up my birth control dosage — which explains why, for the last few months, I’ve had awful cramps. As in, I don’t ever get cramps. As in, they fucking HURT. (Did I mention the kitten? Yeah. Enjoy that mental image.) To make a long story short, I’m supposed to be on a higher dosage birth control that does NOT have a generic version, and someone fucked up and gave me the generic version — of a lower dosage, and lower price. So tomorrow, when I go to pick up the correct, non-kitten-clawing-its-way-out-of-my-uterus version, it’s gonna cost me $40. I also have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow that is going to cost me $30. I so miss the insurance we used to have, the one with no co-pays that covered EVERYTHING.

I keep trying to figure out why, as a person with a normally high-paying job, I have no money. It’s not like I blow it away on stuff. I’m pretty good with a budget. I mean, there is my Target addiction, but I have mastered getting my fix without going broke. (Ask me about their dollar aisle. Do it now!!)

I have to get the birth control, because without that I’ll probably end up with a baby instead. And I’m having a hard time imagining having a baby when I am broke as it is and sleep in a dining room. (Someday I’ll get to that.)

I have to go see the rheumatologist tomorrow, because he has my blood test results and I’d kinda like to know what the fuck is wrong with me. That would be nice. (Too bad he can’t just give them to me over the phone, like Pam the PA does. But I digress.)

And the car? Yeah, I might want to have those repairs done, since I drive about forty minutes away from my city three times a week to go to school. I don’t know why, but I don’t exactly want to break down (or go without heat when the frost hits). So those repairs are kinda important.

But don’t worry. I’ll figure it out like I always do. It’s not like anyone who has ever borrowed money from me is willing to help right now (you know who you are), so I’ll just take care of it myself.

Did I mention that I’m also really stressed out right now because it turns out I have a million things to do — including taking a HUGE test — so that I can get into the Education Department at my school (so I can be a teacher)? Yeah. I won’t even get into that right now.

So how are YOU doing? :)

Step up, ghetto blaster

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My phone vibrated against the desk. I shoved my bluetooth — that’s Mr. Bluetooth to you — into my ear and pressed the button, simultaneously checking my phone to see who was calling. My BlackBerry’s screen greeted my with my Dad’s Facebook photo.

“Hello,” I said, clicking at my screen.

“I’m not gonna get you in trouble, am I?”

“No,” I said. I glanced at the time on my desktop toolbar.

My dad seemed to hesitate, and then he asked the question that I am supposed to be always asking: “Can I borrow your car?”

His van had bit the dust a week or so ago, and he had bought a used car to replace it. Unfortunately, the Altima he’d bought turned out to be a lemon. He’s been taking my Ellie every so often to go do jobs — he’s an oversized load escort — until he can find something else because he doesn’t trust the Altima. Every so often he’ll ask or, like a couple of days ago, he’ll just borrow her for quick errands. (I’ve thought about using this all as leverage. Trust me. I’m just waiting for the right opportunity.)

“Sure,” I agreed. He explained that he would drop his car off in the parking lot at my job and take my car from there. All I had to do was give my building’s receptionist the license plate so that the Altima didn’t end up mistakenly being towed. No problem. Besides getting to drive something else, I was getting gas out of the deal.

After work I walked the block to my parking lot and got into the Altima. “Could have at least cracked me a window, Dad,” I said to the inside of the car. I lifted the mat and rooted around for the key. “Ah-ha!” As I put it into the ignition, I braced myself for the possibility of it not starting (its neutral safety switch is busted, just like Lisa Mazda‘s was). It started just fine, and I glanced up to start backing out. No rearview mirror. “Aw, Dad!” I checked my side mirrors and looked behind me. Fine. I could do this. No big deal.

I put the car into reverse and started backing out. BOOM. BOOOM. BOOOOOM. Where was that awful too-high bass sound coming from? Me? It was coming from me! Or, the Altima, actually. A second later I totally forgot about the sound as I began backing out, hoping that the side mirrors weren’t hexed and that I wouldn’t end up bashing into one of my coworker’s cars. (You never know. It could happen. Really.)

All backed out and ready to go, I started to leave the parking lot. BOOM. BOOOOM. BOOOM-BOOOM. “Oh my god,” I thought. “It sounds like a GIT car!”

Yep. I had the radio’s volume almost all the way down and yet it sounded like I had one of those bass booster thingamabobs in my trunk. As I sat at a red light, the entire car was shaking, as if I were sitting in one of those massage chairs at the mall.

The whole ride home, I thought for certain that it would die on me. Or that someone behind me might get pissed at my slowness. Or that the brakes might fail and that I would go sliding into another car. Or maybe a cop would pull me over because of the little ghetto car’s looks.

Instead, everyone ignored me. For once, no one rode my ass — even though I drove slower than ever! (They must have thought I was one of them, due to the BOOM BOOM-BOOM BOOM.) I drove past two cops and they didn’t so much as blink at me. And best of all? No one died. Hooray.

“No wonder you didn’t want to drive this thing,” I said to Dad when he called me to make sure I got home okay. It occurred to me then that he might have thought I wouldn’t make it home alive in that thing, either!

Leave a comment and tell me: What’s the worst car you’ve ever driven? (Bonus points if you can tell me where I got the title of this post from!)

I’ve got this blogging thing down

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I’m a rockstar at this blogging thing, I know. You don’t have to tell me how great I am at posting every day, and you definitely don’t have to tell me that I post way too much.

Ahem.

These last few weeks have been insane! I wish that I could remember everything but, sadly, my brain is wiped clean. I have enough trouble talking and putting words together into coherent sentences, never mind trying to remember everything that’s been going on. I now know how Ozzy feels.

I’m not even sure where to begin, as I can’t remember what I last wrote about and am way too lazy to actually go hunting through the two or so posts I’ve written in the last couple of months, so let’s just cut to the chase: car (Lisa Mazda) is dead, all I’ve been doing is working, my story “Anonymiss” won second place in this year’s Fresh Ink contest over at Naugatuck Valley, and I can meow.

The 2009 Writers’ Conference was Wednesday, and the guest speaker was Everett Hoagland, a poet from Massachusetts. His poems were really, really good. I literally fell into a sort of trance as I listened to him read. They were filled with a rhythm that I swear only African-American poets have. Even this guy’s presence was amazing; he was just so composed and peaceful.

I read my winning story from last year’s Fresh Ink, “Moon Prayer,” just before the awards for this year’s contest were presented, and after I read Everett pulled me aside and asked me how long I’ve been writing. I told him since about third grade, and remembered the story about dalmatians I wrote with my classmate Sherry-Lee. (I don’t remember what that story was about, only that it was about dalmatians and that we wrote and illustrated it on darker fuchsia construction paper.)

“I can tell you take this seriously,” he told me. “For you to write such detail, to know so much about someone who is so different from you, is amazing.”

I could barely speak, I was so astonished that this amazing man loved my story.

“You are already an accomplished writer. We’re going to be hearing about you,” he said. He said that to me several times throughout the day.

I don’t think I’m a bad writer. I mean, I know I’ve got a little talent, I guess. Several teachers, family, friends, and Professor Harding have told me over and over that I have talent. I guess I always just thought they were biased, because most of these people really liked me to begin with. For this guy, someone who did not know me at all, to hear one story and say those amazing things to me… Well, it meant a lot. He was so, so inspiring.

I felt really good about the whole day, actually. I got to connect with a lot of people I haven’t seen in a while, and Professor Harding and I went over a little of The Cure Program. To make things even better, Mike spent the whole day with me because I don’t have a car and had no other way of getting there. He said he had a lot of fun, and I really enjoyed having him there. We had a blast during the writers’ workshop that Professor Harding did.

As strange as it sounds, I really miss NVCC. I’ve never missed an old school before. I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere. But I truly did fit in at that community college, and I don’t think I’ll ever feel that “snug” anywhere else. I think that’s as good as it gets for me.

I had a lot more I wanted to write about, but I want to get to bed. Maybe I’ll update again before July. (;

Almost forgot that I promised pics. Got my toes done, but need to get them done again now.

Almost forgot that I promised pics. Got my toes done, but need to get them done again now.

I look so freaking tired here. I got my hair cut last weekend, and dyed again, thanks to my cousin Alicia.

I look so freaking tired here. I got my hair cut last weekend, and dyed again, thanks to my cousin Alicia.

Me and the kitty, with creepy glowy eyes.

Me and the kitty, with creepy glowy eyes.

Finally, things are going my way

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You know those days were it seems like everything bad possible can happen and it keeps on happening? Today was like that, but the polar opposite: I got smacked in the face with a bunch of good shit.

As soon as I got out of work I stopped at my house to grab that Academic Advising Form. I went to the ATM and took out $400 — not for a bribe; I didn’t up needing that kind of leverage — and stopped at Barnes and Noble for a gift card. Then I went to NVCC and found the Dean’s office. Her secretary said she was at lunch and would be back any minute, and coincidentally the secretary had just been on the phone with the Counseling Center discussing me and the Academic Advising Forms.

The Dean came back and we sat down with all of the copies. She looked at my form and confirmed that my advisor had told me to take the wrong course. Then, she said she would email the Registrar and have them waive that class. I’m graduating.

After that, I drove through a ton of traffic to get home and Dad called me. He told me to meet Vinny, the guy selling the Pontiac Sunfire, so he could sign the title over to me and I could pay him. He handed me the title, I handed him the $400, and not even the crazy traffic could kill my buzz. I have a better car.

On top of all that, tonight is the last night that Mike will be doing 3rd shift. He’ll be doing early mornings until the new year, and then he’s going to look for a better job. I get my Michael back.

Everything is falling into place, instead of falling apart.

Now it’s time to get ready for the holidays…