The Real Crash Banticoot: The Real Reason Why I Shop At Target?

Hello, world! I am blogging again. You know what that means..... Blogging= angst.

Sigh.

Someone hit my car on Monday. My Volvo!!!!!!

Let me interject, here. My Volvo is not new. Its actually like, ten years old or something. But, I love it. I drives well, the mileage is great, its red, and 99% of the stuff in it works (mmmmm, 95%) In other words, its totally me.

Immediately after said accident, and my very own live, personalized episode of Cops*, the jokes began. My cousins are all, " Another accident? What are you- a moving target?"

Blah, blah, blah...

So Jess, one of my cousins, is like, "How many accidents have you been in, like, ten?"
Then, I'm all like, "Something like that".

Then, I really start to think. How many accidents HAVE I really been in???

The answer will certainly amaze you:

1. In my mom's Volvo when I was 7. Broken nose.
2. In my crackhead stepdad's (take that as literally as you'd like) pickup truck.
3. Age 20, Altima. Two weeks old. Pissed. Totaled.
4. Age 21, Camry. Dodge Truck Hit me on the highway, kept it moving. Pissed Again. Car repaired, and returned.
5. Age 22, Camry. Sleep Driving on Ambien. Confused. Totaled. My next car, the Carrolla, was lucky. It was stolen. As was the Accord.
6. Age 22 or 3. Ford Focus. Fell asleep (probably the Ambien again?) and hit a dude and his wife on the way home from back surgery. Sucks, huh? Totaled.
7. Age 22 (23?), my mom's spare Caddilac Deville. At Fault. Mom was Pissed. Repaired and Returned.
8. Age 23, Crown Victoria. Drunk dude backs into me after seeing the friendly neighborhood prostitute. Pissed. Repaired, returned. Still in my garage (don't ask why).
9. Age 23, Crown Victoria. Lady rear ends me. Not much damage.
10. Age 24, Chevy Blazer. Latino kid runs into the road at Lenox Mall and I sideswipe a pole to miss the bastard. Pissed. Mom pretended to speak no English. Security called cops, told me it was a civil matter. Really pissed as bastard's mom just shrugs. Repaired via uninsured motorist. Returned.
11. Age 24, Chevy Blazer. Rear ended in Atlanta rush hour traffic. Pissed. Totaled.
12. Age 26 or 7, Chevy Uplander. Barely tap a guy. No damage.
13. Age 26 or 7, Chevy Uplander. BRAND NEW. Two payments made. Rear ended by a woman who had spilled her cd's. Took 6 months to repair, ultimately deemed totaled 4 months later. Looooong time in a rental car.
14. Age 27 or 8, my mom's spare Surburban. Aren't I lucky she has a lot of cars? Isn't she screwed for having me as a daughter? Asian man tries to avoid a ticket by backing out of intersection, and into me. Sigh.
15. Age 28, Mom's spare Surburban. Again. Teenager rear ends me in front of the mall. Repaired and returned. At this point, my mom is so disgusted with me that she just gives me the truck. Yay? Not really.
16. Age 29, Mom's spare, no, MY Surburban. Guy hits me, keeps going, and I swerve into the median wall. Terrified. Totaled. Mom was pissed.
17. Age 30, Shiny red Volvo. After living across the street for 4 years from a crazy lady who hates me, and calls the police any time my company parks in front of her house on my side of the street, Her nurse parks in front of MY house on HER side of the street. And I back into her. Ironic? Broken tail light. Pissed.
18. 48 Hours ago, Shiny Red Volvo. Sitting still in front of a Gas station, waiting to turn into the parking lot. Driving while texting lady hits me going full speed. Confused. THEN THE BITCH TAKES OFF. Pissed.

Without giving too much juiciness from the next post, that's 18 accidents. 14, were not at fault. Maybe there's a reason why I love Target stores so much. I am one. A target, not a store.

Sigh.

OW, MY BACK!!!

* Here's the totally awesome news: I'll be posting TWICE. The whole Cops thing requires a post all to itself, and it will be totally worth the wait!