At peace with the loss of Gina

Looking back at my previous blog, I realized what a complete psycho I sounded like, ranting and raving about the theft of my crappy car, and by crappy, I mean CRAPPY. I gave a slight amount of serious thought to the type of moron that would steal such a giant heap of trash, and this is the story I decided on...

Johnny P. Gangsta thinks he's 'hard', really 'hard'. He's 13, his parents are checked out (and by checked out I mean in prison, on drugs, deceased, etc.) so Johnny turns to his 'homies' for companionship. In order to be part of the Blood-family, Johnny must be jumped in. This entails his 'family' beating the crud out of him and him doing something completely ridiculous, like.... say.... steal a car.

So Johnny cruises around some middle class neighborhood, say... at-or-about 2 am on Friday October 19th, 2007, and sees a Honda Civic parked on the street. He jumps out of his 'homies' car and peeks in the Civic. He sees a decent CD player and decides this is the car he will bring back as proof that he is worthy to 'bang' (and no, I'm not making 'these' words up, this is what the kids I work with tell me). He does his car thieving thing (I have no idea what this entails) and speeds off, jamming to an awesomely bad country CD that was left in the player.

He returns to his gang buddies, car in tow, his face beaming with pride! Little does he know all that is wrong with the Civic:

-The tires are bald
-There is a giant crack spanning 3/4 of the windshield
-The front two windows, if fully rolled down, will not go back up without a near-20 minute fight
-The driver side visor flops down at random intervals
-She has 200,000 miles
-She needs a new timing belt
-She burns oil like nobody's business
-She just had new brakes installed!
-She makes this lovely clicking noise (in protest I assume) when she has to stop, especially if it's cold
-She hates hills and loves to overheat when she is forced to climb them
-If he pulls the car too far into one of those parking spaces with a curb, the front bumper will get stuck and subsequently fall off, making a complete fool of the person who has to reattach it to the car (this fool used to be me, no more!)

I have this great visual of the Bloods leader looking at Johnny with complete disappointment, "Tell me you did not bring that pile of crap in here, I'm not trying to drive no white ladies piece of crap!" (I do realize how completely unlikely this situation is, and that my car is probably in 300 or more parts, which are already on ebay to be sold across the country.)

So perhaps all of this was a secret blessing. Maybe there's a really bizarre gang out there that steals cars which are on the verge of death and they see their work as doing the world a favor, one crappy car at a time.

**Update on Gina: She has been found! Turns out she wasn't stripped totally naked, I'm glad to hear they kept the violations to a minimum. They took the stereo, speakers, and the front bumper, although I'm not sure that they intentionally took the bumper or it fell off as described above. Miss you girl!**

Unbelievable!

I hate paying bills. But there are many bills that serve an excellent, immediate, gotta-love-em purpose, including:
The cell phone bill which allows me to text my boyfriend while I should be paying attention in class.
The water bill which allows me to take extra-long showers for no other reason then to spoil myself.

There are however the bills that I cringe at when I see them in the withdrawal column on my bank statement. For instance:
Do I really need to pay my bank $2.00 every time I use a different ATM?
Do I really have to pay car insurance even though I haven't been in an accident in gawd knows how long??

I'm here to tell you, YES YOU DO! Pay your car insurance! Wanna know why??
Because even if you live in the safest friggin' neighborgood in your gawd forsaken city, you car can get STOLEN! Yes! Stolen! How do I know this? Because it happened to my Gina.

Little did I know, as I lazily watched Gray's Anatomy and tucked myself snuggly in bed last night that some good-for-nothing-scum-bag-of-a-retard would take my baby Gina. I've had Gina since high school! She was there with me through my super-awesome job at In&Out, made it all the way to Ohio State (and back) and was my best companion. She had just turned 200,000 miles, so proud of her!!

This morning I woke up, showered, breakfast (typical morning routine) and walked out my front door with a list of errands in hand ready to tackle the day. As I headed down my walkway, something was... wrong. I didn't see my car. The driveway (which my roommate parks in) is on the left and there's a giant bush (that our landlord refuses to trim and makes our house look like it would fit right in on the Discovery channel) on my right, so I thought Gina was simply hiding in the brush. But the further I walked toward the street, the more I realized that Gina was gone. "Where's my car?" I said to myself aloud, half-joking. And then I started to tremble, that weird feeling you get in your gut when you know something's off but your brain hasn't figured it out yet. I immediately called the boyfriend (the man of my dreams/legal advisor) and couldn't even form a coherent sentence. "I.. it's.. where's?.. I dunno, my car's gone, I think it got stolen." He gave me calm reliable instructions to call the city, police department, insurance company etc. (he's very handy in these situations). A few hundred phone calls later, my car is no where to be found.

THANKFULLY, I have full coverage insurance so I don't have too much to worry about (other then loosing one of my best friends) and may even get a snazzy new ride.

So, take the advise of your wise-old-friend Shelly, and pay your lame bills, because you never know when that irritating monthly fee will save your ass.