About my car...

For those who don't already know, my car exploded last Monday just a few feet off of a freeway.

Starting on that SAME DAY, people have been messaging me about how excited they are to read about what happened to my car in my blog.

But nothing happened to my car. The thinga-ma-gig was old and exploded, and I had to get a new thingy to replace it, and also a battery because I'm a woman and apparently having a womb makes it impossible for me to argue with people about what I do or do not need in my car.

So there will not be a post about my car.
And if there was a post, it would just be a picture of me standing on the side of the road crying on the phone to my father.

Nothing funny happened. My car broke down, I cried, I called a towing company, I'm out 700 fat ones. The end.

Also, I'm still pretty upset over it. Nothing about screaming "I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO, FIX IT FIX IT IF YOU LOVE ME YOU'LL FIX IT RIGHT NOW" to my father on the phone makes me think "Boy, I can't wait to share this moment with the internet".

So, instead, I thought I'd write a post about my day today.
It was also a day of emotional turmoil, but slightly less so.

Cella's Day:

Since my car exploded, I've had to take the bus into work. Which actually doesn't take that much longer than driving - something I'm sure will hurt my cars ego now that she has been brought back from the brink of death.

I once had a friend who described buses as 'magical'. She told me how great it was that people from all walks of life, all going to different places for different reasons had all gathered into one vehicle, for this small period of time, and would probably never be in the same place together like this again.

I describe buses as 'smelly and infested with crazies'.

Thankfully, as a psychologist, I know how to deal with crazies.






My father once told me to never make a threat you weren't willing to follow through with.




I got off the bus without having to mutilate a crackhead, which meant it was going to be a good day.
Also, I was 15 minutes early. Which actually meant I was actually an hour early, since I always arrive 45 minutes before the office opens.

To celebrate, I decided to reward myself.

There's a McDonald's right next to my work, so I thought to myself; 'Self,' i thought, 'You haven't had breakfast at an American McDonald's in four years. You DESERVE a bacon and egg mcmuffin'.

So I swung into the building, fit to burst with excitement.
I love my junk food. Love it.

People think I'm skinny because I eat healthy. I think I'm probably allergic to anything that is not either
1) Deep fried
2) Smothered in chocolate
or
3) Deep fried and smothered in chocolate.

So, as much as I hate to admit it, I <3 McDonald's and their horrible, horrible food.

Also, very few places give you the instant gratification of getting to eat something mere seconds after you order it.

I made it to the counter 45 seconds and 45 other people later





I figured the woman just had a compulsion to repeat what people ordered, but just by listing the ingredients.
Who am I to judge.

3.6 seconds later, I left with my precious, precious meal, and raced up to the office to devour it.



I could barely contain my excitement. It was like Christmas, but you got to eat all the presents.


But when I opened up the wrapper...
It was not a bacon and egg mcmuffin.




Instead, what I got was this




I had managed to order something completely different than I wanted.
It was still like Christmas, but instead of Santa Claus you got a big fat man who came to your house and beat up your pets and then ate all your cookies and stole your wallet.

Somehow, when I was gone, someone horrible had come in and replaced my favorite thing at McDonald's with this... thing.
America had finally lost the war on terror.






There I was, filled with a hunger unsatisfied and an anger that I could only take out on a sandwich

But I was starving. My stomach had been promised food, and IT WOULD NOT BE SILENCED.

With dread, I realized I would have to eat this monstrosity.





I was so excited. Everything about this sandwich represented what was right in the world
It was like being surrounded by kittens and flowers and chocolate, and those little toy poppers where you pull the string and they shoot confetti strings.
You know the ones.

As I ate it, I realized that everything was going to be alright
My car would be fixed, health care would soon be affordable, and peace would rein throughout the world.




The only thing that could make this moment any better would be my coffee.