did you feel something?

On Tuesday this week, I met up with my old friend, Irina, whom I haven't seen in maybe 3 years. The last time we were friends, we were living together in a 4 bedroom apartment with 6 lesbians and 1 straight, probably very confused, girl from the middle east. To say this was not the most conducive environment for an actual friendship would be a gross understatement, effective to saying Charlie Sheen is just a little buzzed. We always used to have a ton of fun when we hung out, but it was also always kind of a shit show. So I probably should have had the foresight to not plan our reunion for a Tuesday night when I had work the next day (Bad Decision).

We initially met up for an after-work scorpion bowl and scallion pancakes (dinner of champions), but she somehow conned me into coming into the city with her for an evening out. And by "somehow conned" I mean this:

          Irina: I think you should come.
          Me:   Ok.

I'm a hard sell, what can I say. So we headed into the city, drove around picking up some people I didn't know, and enjoyed another group scorpion bowl while we waited for it to be time to go dancing. Then I drove us to the bar...
Cue ominous music.
In the winter I drive a fairly large SUV that kind of looks like someone zapped a child's toy with a growth ray. I'm probably a little overly confident in my ability to know where the outer extremities of the car end. I'm also a very cocky parallel parker. Do you see where this is going? As we pull up in front of the bar, a prime parking spot opens up (Yessss. I have the best parking luck. Well, maybe not....) and I set myself up next to the front car to parallel my way into there. It is important to note that the driver of the front car is IN the front car. Just sitting there. Waiting to be angry about something probably. Then this happens:

          Irina: Ash...you are really close to that Prius...
          Me:  Oh, I got this.
          *crunch*
          Irina: Ashly! Dude, stop!
          Me:   I got this. What, Irina?

I bumped that Prius so lightly, that within the confines of my tank while looking over my shoulder backing up, I didn't even know it had happened. But you know who definitely did know it had happened? The super angry lesbian lurking in the front seat of the Prius. That chick was on the phone with the cops before I could even remove myself from my vehicle. For a moment I boarded the crazy train and was all "Should we just drive away? I think we should just drive away. Yeah, we should totally just drive away."

Bad Decision: Having an parking ego too big to listen when your friends try to warn you that you are about to eat a Prius.
Better Bad Decision: Not committing a hit and run like a maniac.

So I get out of my truck and somehow get the chick to tell the police they are not needed and hang up the phone. At this point she apparently decides that she IS the police and starts demanding my license and registration. They don't even ask for your registration when you get pulled over anymore (Which I know since that happened to me last week. Sigh.). This is when I attempt a different tactic, and try to flirt my way out of it per Irina's suggestion. I touch her on the shoulder and tell her not to worry, everything will be just fine.
She looks at me with fire-y eyeballs of death and says through her teeth "Don't.Touch.Me." Ooooooookaaaaayyyy.
No touching.
Got it.
Please don't punch me out.

The way this demon woman was acting you would have thought my truck had ripped off the Prius' bumper and taillight with it's toothy grill and shaken it back and forth like a rabid dog. But really, this is what happened:

Oh, THE HORROR.

Turns out it wasn't even her car, and I have yet to hear from either her, or the owner, regarding the chipped piece of plastic. I'm banking on the fact that the owner looked at the taillight, looked at her friend, and said "what damage?" Because honestly, you're driving a Prius. Think of the environmental impact of replacing all that taillight plastic. For shame.

Life Lesson: If you forget your not 21 anymore and go out drinking on a Tuesday, professional-karma will smack you in the face with a fender bender. Or you'll hit a parked car like an idiot. Either way, really.

-LSLP, Ash.

______________________
EDIT: (3/6/11)-- So as Ash was out partying, plowing other cars down, and contemplating running from the law, I was in bed early attempting to defeat a cold that was on the brink of kicking my ass.  I later awoke to what I knew wasn't a burglary, but rather a very drunken Ash coming home.  I mean, I assume burglars aren't THAT noisy.  I couldn't tell if she was just stumbling around half-out-of-it, or if she felt compelled to start remodeling the kitchen. 


When I went to pack a lunch in the morning, however, I did find myself in the middle of a crime scene.  The good news: as I suspected, no burglary occurred.  However, there had been a murder in the kitchen.  The victim?...A box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.  Cheesy powder on the counter top and a box that had been torn apart were all that remained of this heinous crime.  Yup, Ash must have been pretty drunk... afterall, she left the murder weapons soaking in the sink.  ;)


~LSLP, Amanda xo