Sunday, September 12, 2010

Don't Stop Believin'

So this is a bit off topic, because it has nothing to do with my dating life, but I felt like I needed to share it anyway.

Almost two months ago I bought myself a brand new car.  After 10 years and just over 100,000 miles, it was time to retire the good ol' PT Cruiser.  PT  met her untimely death when the timing belt snapped and took out half of the engine with it.  Clearly, I was devastated.  There will never be as good a car as PT, we sure had some good times together.  But anyway, I bought myself a brand new 2010 silver Chrysler Caliber, which I then named Steve Perry.  This new ride of mine would be the ultimate date magnet...especially if you're the kind of date who likes to drink and tailgate.

Steve Perry has rear speakers on the tailgate that fold down and project outwards when the gate is open, clearly to blast the Michigan State Fight Song.  On top of that, the cup holders glow green at night, and the crowning glory of my sweet new ride, a beverage cooler in the glove box!  That's right!  I could easily fit about 10 beers, errr...beverages...in the glove box cooler, maybe even 12 if I really tried.

Steve Perry sounds pretty glorious, huh?  Well not even a month after I bought myself a brand new car, some bitch t-boned me in the Target parking lot.  I could not believe it for a minute, I did not even have a license plate on my brand new car yet, nor had I even made the first car payment.  I wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but I didn't...I pulled myself together and tore this bitch a new one in the Target parking lot as soccer moms and their children stood in disbelief at the scene before them.  It was a sight for sore eyes and ears, I used every version of the F-Bomb that I could possibly think of.  I was pissed.

Well fast forward to this past Friday.  I still DO NOT have Steve Perry back, because I have been fighting with Accident Bitch's insurance this entire time.  Steve Perry has been finished at the shop and is now just waiting for us to be reunited.  After many phone battles with Accident Bitch's agent, whom I shall refer to as Insurance Bitch, I was told that a check to cover the damages had been mailed to me.  In my opinion, this check is coming way too late anyway as I have been without my car for over 25 days now, and I am having to pay out of pocket for a piece of junk foreign rental car that I think is long overdue for an oil change.

I thought for sure that I would have gotten the check on Friday, but I was wrong.   When I found out that the check was not in the mail, I quickly called Insurance Bitch and let her have it.  Hell hath no fury like that of mine when pissed...other than my Mother's.  After using every single swear word I could think of, and some I may have made up, Insurance Bitch told me that she could not guarantee the speed of the mail.  It took everything in my body to not respond to Insurance Bitch with "Well I can't guarantee that I won't kick your ass, slut!"

I asked if Alfa Insurance was run out of her basement, and she replied that that would be a bit ridiculous.   To this I told Insurance Bitch that it was a bit ridiculous that I still did not have my fuckin' car to drive.  I then asked if she had a bunch of invalids working for her, to which she mumbled a confused "uhh noo..." and I quickly snapped with, "Well perhaps you should, then maybe things would get done right."

Another 20 minutes of me ranting and calling her everything I could think of, I still was no better off than before making the phone call.  It did not matter to me because at least I now had the satisfaction of telling her what I thought.  It's now Sunday night, and as I sip my Jack and Coke and watch the VMA's, I can only keep my fingers crossed and hope that I will be reunited with Steve Perry tomorrow afternoon.  It is much harder to find dates if I don't have my sweet date magnet!  If the insurance check still does not come, you better believe that I will be back on the phone with Insurance Bitch, and frankly at this point in time, bitches get stitches.

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