Final Destination.

I was driving home from the city.  I wasn’t really paying attention.  I wasn’t doing anything else ,but my mind was elsewhere.  I realized I had been in the far right exit lane the entire time and it’d soon be turning into an “exit only” lane, so it was time to move over.  I glanced over my shoulder, checking my blind spot.  I peeked into my mirrors and looked back one more time to be sure, then, signal on, I started switching lanes.  Suddenly an asshole in some sort of red sedan flies into my lane, speeds up, and nearly hits me, causing me to swerve back into my lane to avoid him.

Of course, I’m cursing, and now I’m pissed.  The driver is a middle aged man, probably showing off for the blonde who is half his age and is perched in the passenger seat, giggling.  I still have plenty of time before I’m forced to exit, so I decide right then and there if I want my revenge, I’ll just get really close to his bumper.  He’s already ridiculously close to the car in front of him, in an effort to get it to speed up, why not give him a taste of his own medicine?

I speed up and as I’m approaching his car, I see cars much farther up ahead swerving.  Brake lights.  I slam on my breaks and stay away from his bumper.  This guy is going to slam his car into the one in front of him and if I’m not careful, I could be collateral damage.  I try to scan the emergency lane ahead to see what the swerving was about and if there was an accident.  Right as I look back, we are approaching where the first cars has begun to swerve.  I see him run it over in his car and now, although my car is a few car lengths behind, this twisted metal bumper is hurtling itself towards my windshield. It’s bouncing of the pavement of the freeway, flipping end over end, as it flies at me.

I can feel my eyes widening in fear, and I begin to panic.

Do I swerve left and avoid the bumper hitting my person, but run the risk of it going through the passenger side?  Although it’s empty, it will still cause detrimental damage and there’s no assurance I’ll be okay.  There are also other cars to my left, any of which I could collide with.

Do I swerve right?  I’d be bringing myself into the direct line of the flying shrapnel, but I might be able to make it into the emergency lane without problem.  But should I not swerve far enough over, I’ll have lined myself up perfectly with the bumper, and it is definitely over.

These thoughts ran through my head at four times the speed the bumper was approaching.  It felt like minutes, but was probably under seconds.  I swerved to the right, screaming the entire time.  The bumper hit the front of my car and cartwheeled over it.  It nicked my front bumper and roof, but missed both the windshield and rear window.

I felt like I was going to throw up.  There was so much adrenaline pulsing through my body I forgot about the idiot driver and the random piece of metal and everything that had just happened.  My mind began to go back to a series of movies I love: Final Destination.  I just had a moment straight out of their script.  Had that bumper made it into my car, killing me, it would have caused a major accident.  It would have been a freak accident, and I avoided it.  I was so proud of myself.  I wasn’t mad or afraid or upset, but proud.  Proud that I had cheated death.  Proud that I had come up with the right solution.  Proud that I was still alive.


I get it, I’m overweight…

Yes, I’m overweight.  Yes, I’m a lazy ass.  Yes, I’m out of shape.  No, I don’t need your condescending attitude about it just bc you’re thin.

Why don’t I jog? My breasts are so large, even just jogging is excruciating for my back/shoulders which are already in pain most of the day.

Why don’t I just hike more or climb stairs? My left hip will need to be replaced soon due to bone deterioration from medication I was on for years and my left knee was injured when I was a teenager.  I’m actually supposed to avoid stairs at all costs, but take them because I feel like a lazy ass when I don’t.

Why don’t I lift weights? Much like my hip, most of my joints are extremely weak and prone to dislocation.  My shoulders are a big issue.  Growing up with an abusive father, my body as been beaten and battered for years and parts of me are just falling apart.

None of this is an excuse for not being more active.  I can walk around my block.  I can do small things to make myself more active and help myself shed these unwanted pounds.  Trust me, despite my lack of action, I know what I need to do to change myself.

What pisses me off about all of this is there is one person in particular (a friend of a friend, who I don’t particularly like and only put up with because he’s invited everywhere and it isn’t usually my place to say something) who feels because he has a fast metabolism and is stick thin, he is qualified to “train” me and any of my other friends who are either overweight or just want to improve their athleticism.  BULL.SHIT.  I’ve seen him work out.  I’ve seen him ATTEMPT to run an extended distance.  Being thin is not the equivalent of being fit.  Don’t tell me I should start running when I know that isn’t the best way for me to get my cardio in.  Don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t eat when all you eat is fast food.  In fact, just stop talking all together.  I didn’t ask for your advice or help, and trust me, I NEVER will.

The other thing he loves to do is invite me and my friends on “epic adventures” aka “I’m gonna drive us all up to some woodsy area, and we can smoke pot and drink beer”.  Fine.  I don’t see why we have to sneak weed into a wildlife preserve or hike to the top of some mountain just to sit and drink, but if it makes you feel like you’ve done something with your life, sure.  What makes me want to hit him with my car is when he comes up to me and says “don’t worry, the hike isn’t that bad, you’ll be able to make it to the top.”  EXCUSE YOU, DOUCHEBAG.  I can hike.  Despite my complaining, I can do it.  I’m not going to pass out before we hit the top.  I’m not going to cry.  I might be a little winded by the time we get to the top, but I’m not incapable of walking the few miles to the top of wherever the fuck you want to take us.

I used to dance competitively.  I used to be thin.  I used to workout every day AFTER taking dance classes for hours.  I gained all of this weight as a side effect of the drugs I was on from 15-22.  It slowed my metabolism.  Weakened my bones.  But it didn’t make me incapable of swimming laps or hiking for the day.  Just because I’d rather go to the beach than hike up a mountain with you, doesn’t mean it’s because I’m just too goddamn fat.  Maybe, just MAYBE, we blow you off because you think you’re better than everyone in EVERY way and have no problems showing that, constantly.

Yes, I’m overweight.  Yes, I need to be more active.  No, I don’t need people who have no idea what they’re talking about “reassuring” me that I can do a certain physical activity.  My legs are almost pure muscle.  I’ll make it up the fucking trail.  Don’t tell me you’ll make it easy for me.  I’m overweight, not disabled.  I’m not on crutches.  I’m not in a wheelchair.  I’m just out of shape.  You want to “help” me?  Shut up and let me do my own thing.

Then again, this guy rates himself as a 9 on the 1-10 scale and going by looks alone, he’d be lucky to make the scale.  Add in his personality and he’s definitely somewhere in the negatives. So, I’m not surprised he thinks he’s the god of health.

The Most Shocking Thing -nsfw due to language

I overheard the most shocking thing at the dog park the other day.  An older woman (let’s call her 55+) was chatting to a friend about her German shepherd.  I was eavesdropping because there isn’t much to do at the dog park other than watch Tank wear himself out.  She was talking about going on trips and how she doesn’t trust many people because her dog is like her child. I understand.  My dog is like my child.  I have so many pictures of him that people probably think I’m a total nut job.  Anyway, they continue talking and I guess a mutual friend of theirs is moving away and can’t take her dog, so she gave him to a good friend.  The woman who owned the German shepherd looked shocked.  She immediately said that was the cruelest thing anyone could do and if she couldn’t keep her dog for any reason, she’d have him put down.

wtf? WHAT…THE….FUCK?  Who the…What in the hell kind of logic is that?  Excuse my language, but that lady is one fucked up piece of shit.  Putting your dog down because it can’t live with you anymore?  Dog lover my ass.  If I couldn’t keep Tank anymore (which will never happen, I mean, I lived in a CAR with that dog for 6 months), I would find the best home I could for him.  But no, this bitch would kill her dog.  “I’d put him down.  It’d be too hard on him to be without me.”  Sure.  Might as well have said “I’m so fucking great, this dog would die without me.  To save him the agony, I’m just gonna kill him, death row status.”  What in the fuck?  If a dog is not severely ill and in a lot of incurable pain, you do not put them down.  I’ve had to put down a dog before and it was the worst thing I’ve ever done.  The only thing that helped me was knowing he wasn’t suffering anymore, but to put down a dog that isn’t suffering?

And I am a dog person.  DOG PERSON.  I treat my dogs like humans.  I believe they have feelings, they miss people, they get depressed, but if you put that dog in a good home, who’s to say they won’t be happy without you?  For all you know that dog is just waiting for your idiot ass to kick the bucket.  This was just shocking and upsetting.

To make matters worse, I googled “putting a dog down because you can’t keep them” and it happens ALL THE TIME.  People would rather kill their dog than give it to a friend or adopt it out.  Shit, even a no-kill shelter is better at that point, and she has a gorgeous purebred German shepherd.  I’m positive there are German shepherd rescue groups out there who would be more than happy to take in her dog.


If this bothers you as much as it did me, you probably feel like punching an old lady right now.  So we avoid any violence, here are pictures of my baby boy, Tank:

Why Driving Will One Day Make Me Insane

So you’re driving along and the asshole behind you decides you aren’t going fast enough for them, so now they’re on your ass. As someone who regularly speeds, this is irritating as hell.  Let’s make this scenario even more obnoxious, shall we?  The person behind you decides things like flashing their high beams at you will make you speed up.  Because, logically, when I can’t see where I’m driving, I hit the gas…Oh, and that empty lane next to me?  You couldn’t POSSIBLY use that to pass me?  Better yet, this idiot passes me, and then decides to give me a taste of my own medicine by slowing down so now I’M riding THEIR ass just to keep up the SAME EXACT FUCKING SPEED I was going when they were behind me. There’s a lot of intelligence going on there…a lot of it.
How about those bikes?  In the bike lane or the side of the road, doing their thing.  Oh, wait, aren’t bikes usually slightly off to the side, but not far enough for you to pass them?  Really?  Are you more afraid of parked cars or ones flying down the street at 40mph who might not see you and, oh I don’t know, hit you?  And what’s the deal with running stop signs?  You’re on the fucking road, therefore you must follow the rules of the road.  Even pedestrians stop at stop signs.  They don’t just run into the intersection.  But you’re on a bike so I guess that means it’s okay right?  Because you’re saving the environment and are so much more fit than I am….I believe if I hit you because you ran a stop sign, regardless if you were on a bike or in a car, it should b your fault.  Morons.
Anyone like those people who drive in the emergency lanes to get maybe four cars further in the merge?  Me either.  These jerkoffs speed into the emergency lane and then jam themselves back into traffic, usually with no signal.  I saw you pull out of the lane, you really think I’m letting you back in?  Nope.  Go on, hit me with your Mustang. I fucking dare you.
Here’s another favorite driving move that a lot of people love to pull: my driveway is in six blocks, but let me go 5mph now so I make sure I don’t miss it.  Do you not live there?  How stupid are you?  What makes this hilarious is that I live by a bunch of apartment complexes and actually see people miss the driveway into their complex ALL THE TIME.  Really?  You don’t know where you live?  And you can make the excuse they you just moved in or it was a guest and they didn’t know where it was, but I see the SAME cars slowing down to almost nothing to pull into their apartments BLOCKS ahead of time and STILL MISS THEM.  They’ll give a license to anyone these days.
My favorite annoying driving move of all time has to be the douchebags who park like they own the world.  Did you REALLY need to take up two spots?  If you moved your car up just a foot or two, another car could fit, but no, your car needs space.  See those lines in this crowded parking lot?  They designate where you should park.  You park IN BETWEEN the lines, not with a line going under your car.  This is why some cars get keyed or have shopping carts hurled into their doors….I’m just saying.

Why I go to bars…

All of my close friends are finally over 21, yet we rarely go out to bars. There are a few reasons, some of which are my own personal problems with taking these people out and others are their own personal problems, which I will now spread all over the internet. I’m going to go ahead and leave names out, even though they’ll know I’m bitching about them if they ever read this (which I *highly* doubt they will). Let’s start with a quick list of why I enjoy going to bars:

  1. drinking
  2. social
  3. drinking
  4. its public property, versus someone’s house where you have to worry about being courteous and things like spilling
  5. alcohol never runs out
  6. drinking

The only real cons I see are the cost and the possibility of having to cab it home (versus a DD, which doesn’t always work out).

Here’s a quick breakdown of the 3 main reasons why my friends don’t like going to bars with me or just aren’t invited:

1.  A couple of my friends don’t understand that just because we are drinking, it doesn’t mean you have to get WASTED.  Sure, drink away, but know your limits.  I definitely drink WAY too much sometimes (my birthday being a PERFECT example), but even though I get drunk, I;m not obnoxiously hammered to the point of needing a babysitter.  Things my friends have done because they are too drunk to be in public include:

    • drinking from random drinks strangers have – just because it’s there and not empty, doesn’t mean you can take sips
    • sleeping at the bar – go sleep in the car, don’t get kicked out because you drank yourself into a coma
    • pissing yourself – enough said
    • knocking over tables/barstools/people/drinks – walking disaster
    • whining about wanting food…to everyone – no food here, pretty sure those people don’t care how hungry you are
    • eating other people’s food – just because the bar serves food, doesn’t mean you can sit with strangers and eat their food

Bottom line is-dont do anything that can cause a fight or would be grounds for us to            get kicked out, and I’m a happy camper.  Control yourself.  You’ve been drinking since high school, learn your limits.  We are in a public place and you “just having fun” is ruining the night not just for the rest of us, but also other patrons.

2.  Complaining about the cost is one of my friend’s favorite things to do.  I understand drinking at home is cheaper and we can get shit faced there,  but the point of going to a bar is to meet new people, socialize, and have fun in a group setting versus four of us getting drink at someone’s house.  I try my hardest to pick places without a cover and usually theres some sort of $2 beer.  It really isn’t all that expensive.  Every one of my friends works, and they all can actually afford it, they’re just too cheap.  So, upon being invited, the “I’m broke” excuse usually surfaces and they end up staying home.

3.  I go to bars for the social aspect of it.  I am a girl.  Men will hit on me.  It happens.  People will talk to me.  Not all of the people who talk to me want to sleep with me, and I understand that.  One of my friends had a very protective girlfriend and ANY time ANYONE approaches her girlfriend, she loses it.  As the night continues, she gets progressively more drunk and more people approach her girlfriend, which pisses her off more.  Her girlfriend always explains she has a girlfriend, but can’t help that people approach her.  It’s part of the atmosphere; it comes  with the territory.  Instead of sulking in the corner and getting mad at your girlfriend (who is not at fault in any way), maybe you should socialize as well.  Instead of assuming every person who goes up to your girlfriend is trying to hit on her, talk to them like she does.  It will be obvious you two are together, problem solved.  But no, this always escalates into a fight between the two of them.  You live together.  Do you really think she is going to take someone else home or leave with someone else? I *HIGHLY* doubt that.  The last bar we went to, the argument happened early in the night and she ended up walking home while we stayed and enjoyed our night.  Talk about a buzzkill.


I got to bars to be social.  Sure, it can get expensive, but we’re all here to have a good time.  Get a little drunk, not hammered, and socialize.  Maybe we’ll meet new people to kick it with.  That’s why I go out.  Not to get wasted or spend all my money or fight over stupid things.