Talk About Spoiled!

, , , , , , | Friendly | September 12, 2020

We woke one day to discover that our mailbox and the culvert for our driveway had been completely demolished. Car parts were everywhere.

The state trooper told my husband the driver had swerved to miss a deer. He also seemed to believe she was the only one in the car.

We spent hours cleaning the site, temporarily stopping our mail, and contacting the county to fix the culvert. 

Not-so-fun fact: the county will do the work, but the homeowner must purchase the culvert elsewhere. So another hour is spent finding a replacement. The cost is over seven hundred and fifty dollars.

An hour and eighty-five dollars were spent shopping for a new mailbox and post.

In the course of one week, the driver’s accident cost us over eight hundred dollars and ten hours.

The day after the accident, her parents stopped by with a promise to pay as she has no insurance.

At one point, I said, “The trooper said she was avoiding a deer “

The dad snorted and said, “And you believe that?!”

The mother winced and explained, “I was in the car with my granddaughter. There was no deer. This is the fourth car she’s wrecked this year. We told her we’re not buying her another one.”

You can probably guess that not only did they not pay us anything, but they bought her another vehicle.

How do I know? Because later, she almost hit me head-on as I was nearing the end of our road and she was entering it. I slammed on the brakes. She hid her face.

Just last week, she drove past my house and flipped me off.

Being forgiving and generous to other people does not always end well.

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It’s Best Not To Irritate The Demons

, , , , , , | Friendly | September 11, 2020

I’m a former professional costumer and I still love sewing and building props. My boyfriend and I met at a convention, and as you might imagine, we cosplay together at every opportunity. While I love making costumes, I don’t like wearing anything too complicated or heavy; I prefer lightweight and flattering. My boyfriend, on the other hand, loves elaborate costumes; the bigger and more impressive, the better. This suits us both beautifully; he buys the materials, I make both costumes, he’s my model, and I’m his handler since most of the masks tend to limit visibility.

At a recent convention, he is dressed as a many-eyed demon — a costume I am particularly proud of — and I am in a fairly simple kimono as a character from the same series. We’ve been getting compliments all day. Then, a guy stops us to get a better look.

Guy: “Dude, great costume!”

Boyfriend & Me: “Thanks!”

At this, the guy turns nasty and wheels around to glare at me.

Guy: “I wasn’t talking to you! What, did you thrift that outfit yourself?”

Boyfriend: “Dude… she’s the one who made this.”

Guy: “Big deal. You’re the one wearing it! Chicks are supposed to do s*** for their men, anyway.”

My boyfriend is a fairly big guy to begin with; with the costume’s mask and horns, he comes in at just about nine feet tall, and upon hearing this, he uses that to his advantage and LOOMS.

Boyfriend: “You need to leave, or I just might decide to harvest a few more human parts.”

The guy splutters and stomps off. A nearby demon slayer from a different series, who’s been watching the whole thing, grinned.

Slayer: “You both look great. Usually, I slay monsters, but in this case, I think the demon gets a pass. You want to hunt that guy, I won’t tell.”

Me: “Yep! He’s my favorite demon. He protects me from all the dangerous humans.”

Both of them had a good laugh at that, and when a few other people wandered over, the slayer wound up joining us in an ad hoc photoshoot.

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Pump The Brakes On That Panic Attack

, , , , | Friendly | September 10, 2020

While in college, my boyfriend undergoes a bone biopsy and will need to recover at home for a few days. Not having a car of my own, I borrow his so I can visit him until he can return to class. What none of us realize is that his car has been slowly leaking brake fluid and today is the day that breaks the camel’s back.

After leaving his house the first day he’s home, I’m driving down the middle lane of a three-lane highway and start to approach a red light. I put my foot on the brake and while the car slows, it refuses to stop. I only have about fifty feet before I will hit a car stopped in front of me at the light. I’m completely panicked, slamming the brake with both feet, trying desperately to stop the car. Being in the middle lane, I can’t pull over and the only other car I’ve ever driven had a pedal emergency brake. This car has a hand e-brake which I don’t know exists at the time.

With only about fifteen feet to go, the car has coasted to about ten or fifteen mph but I know I’m still going to hit the car in front of me.

In a last-ditch effort, I throw the car into park and the car emits a horrendous noise, as you would expect, but I still rear-end the car stopped in front of me, a small SUV. I don’t hit him hard enough to deploy the airbag but hard enough to bring me to an abrupt halt. 

As I was able to see this accident coming, combined with the fear of driving down the highway without brakes, adrenaline has been pouring into my system. I’ve now caused an accident in a car that isn’t mine and that I’m not registered to drive, and I have an out-of-state driver’s license. In our college town, police are notoriously unforgiving of out-of-state college drivers and I’m convinced I’m in loads of trouble. I’m having an absolute, sobbing meltdown in the driver’s seat.

The driver from the car in front of me gets out, takes a brief look at the damage to our cars, and approaches my window. I roll it down and immediately begin rapid-fire apologizing while sobbing. 

Me: “I’m so sorry! My brakes went out and I couldn’t stop and I didn’t mean to hit you and I hope you’re okay and I’m so sorry and I couldn’t stop and I didn’t know what to do and I couldn’t stop and—”

Other Driver: *Very concerned* “Are you okay?”

Me: “I didn’t mean to hit you, but I couldn’t stop and I was so scared and I’m so sorry and my brakes wouldn’t work—”

Other Driver: *Still patient and concerned* “Are you okay?”

Me: “I’m really sorry and—”

Other Driver: *In a very casual tone* “I think you broke a headlight.”

Me: “It’s my boyfriend’s car and he just got out of surgery and the brakes wouldn’t work—”

Other Driver: *Somewhat forcefully* “STOP.”

I fall silent.

Other Driver: *Very calmly* “Are you okay?”

Me: “I’m not hurt.”

At this point, a police officer has arrived and starts to tell me I need to move my car. I’m completely flummoxed because the brakes don’t work and I try telling him this. He keeps insisting I move the car because we’re holding up traffic. The other driver chimes in that I can probably move the car no problem, but if the officer wants me to stop at some point, we’re going to have an issue.

In the midst of all of this, I’ve managed to call my boyfriend who, even though he’s recovering from a very painful procedure, manages to get a ride to the accident scene which is only about ten minutes from his house. He explains that the car has a hand brake and the friend who drove him moves the car to a nearby gas station. The other driver follows us all so we can continue talking to the officer.

At this point, the officer has never asked me for my license, proof of insurance, or anything. He addresses the other driver.

Officer: “Do you want to file an accident report or have us pursue this any farther?”

Other Driver: “Nah. My car is fine. I do more damage than that putting my bike in the trunk. And it’s not like it was really her fault. I’m okay calling it a day if you are.”

Officer: “Sounds good. Have a good day, everyone.”

I never got that other driver’s name but I will always be grateful for how kind and understanding he was. He could have made my day so much worse and it would have been totally justified. Thank you, driver, wherever you are!

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That’s Awkward, No (Dog) Bones About It

, , , , , , , | Friendly | September 9, 2020

This happens about a week or so after the infamous Central Park Video. For future generations: an entitled white woman let her dog loose at Central Park, and a bird-watching black man asked her to leash up her dog. The woman threatened him by calling the police and saying he was assaulting her, which he wasn’t. This is relevant information, as I am white and Asian, but I mostly look white.

I am walking my dog and eighteen-month-old daughter to our neighborhood park one early morning, and because of the global health crisis, the dog parks, and tennis courts are closed for our dog to play fetch. Luckily, our neighborhood park has two fields, one small and one large. It has become an unwritten rule during the crisis that the smaller field will have the dogs run around in it and the larger one will be for kids and other social distance activities.

When I arrive at the park, the large field is empty, and temptation takes over me. I start to play fetch with our dog in the large field while my child runs around “chasing” our dog. Soon, my child wants a snack, so I put her in the stroller and take out string cheese.

My dog smells the string cheese and wants it. She starts to hover around my child. I distract my dog by throwing the ball, but said dog won’t listen. She wants that cheese. I give up and leash her up, hold the leash tight, and walk toward our ball. My dog tries to steal the cheese from my child’s hand. I don’t pay attention to anything else around me and utter this: 

Me: “You! I’m looking at you! Don’t you think about stealing!”

Then, I see movement, so I look up. Before my eyes is a black gentleman setting up to play soccer with his kids. The color drains from my face. I sputter, embarrassed and meek. 

Me: “I— I was talking to my dog. You guys go ahead and play. I’m sorry.”

The gentleman, luckily, laughs.

Gentleman: “I know you were talking to your dog. Don’t worry.”

I sighed in relief. Then, he asked about my child and dog, and I asked about his. We chatted for a few minutes. Then, I continued on our walk. When we see each other at the park, we wave, and he jokes, asking if my dog is causing any more troubles.

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Nobody Likes A Litterbug

, , , | Friendly | September 8, 2020

I’m with one of my friends who’s committed quite a few petty crimes. We’re out drinking, but we can’t find a bin to throw away our bottles. After some time of fruitless searching…

Me: “You know we can just…” *mimes littering* “…the bottles, right?“

Friend: *Genuinely offended look* “Dude, I may be a liar, scammer, and cheater, but I draw the line at littering. I have standards, you know.”

Me: “Seriously?”

Friend: “Yes. There’s a long list of crimes I’m willing to commit, but littering is not one of them. And drugs. Drugs are bad.”

Honestly, he’s beaten up, blackmailed, and extorted people without batting an eye, but apparently, littering was too evil even for him. Who knew?

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