So Precious – my ’02 Firehawk – is back at Paradise Body & Paint again. It was a little over a year ago that she made her first trip to meet Bob (back in Doh!) and I was pretty much hoping that it would be smooth sailing from then ‘til I ever decided to sell my Precious. It was a lofty dream and reality is what it is. A bit over a month ago, as I was attempting to merge with the traffic jam that is the 101 on each and every afternoon rush-hour, I got rear-ended by this rather nice lady and her Mercedes SUV. Have I ever mentioned how much I love living here in southern California…?
The collision actually occurred on the 7th of October. As you can easily tell by the post-date of this article, it is now the 17th of November. From what I have been able to gather by speaking with Bob at Paradise and through the several conversations I’ve had with Regina – the claims representative assigned to my case by Encompass Insurance – I do believe that work has at least been started on my car by now. I suppose that’s progress … I’m always amazed at the absolute lack of respect one gets from so-called “professional” businesses these days. Has it always been like this or is this just another symptom of the disease that our modern society has become? To further explain my query, here’s the whole story…
First off, the entrance ramp to north 101 from northbound Lindero Canyon Blvd. – like many of the US Hwy 101 entrance ramps – is pretty much an “accident waiting to happen.” It’s one of those 270°, downward sloping, right-hand curved ramps that ends up going directly under the overpass of the street you are exiting. In this case, the street being exited (Lindero Canyon Blvd.) is a standard inner-city type divided highway and the road you are entering is a 65 MPH interstate freeway. One would think that an acceleration lane of ample length would be provided after the 270° curve to aid in the high-speed merging process; however one would then not be a southern California civil engineer – I think you’re given somewhere around 30 feet or so in reality. Suffice it to say that there’s really not enough room given to merge here in heavy traffic…
As I was attempting this merge last month (something I had done many times before but rarely with ease…), I accelerated into the right-hand lane of the freeway speeding up to match the flow of traffic. It was then that the car I was merging behind slammed on their brakes. I’m still not sure why this extreme deceleration was necessary – probably one of those far-to-common chain-reaction events caused by some idiot ahead – but my only option was to slam on my brakes and prepare for impact. I watched the rear of the car ahead disappear from view and waited for the crunch. It took me a couple moments to realize that the crunch I heard came from the SUV behind me smashing into my rear. Although I must have missed my target by no more than the skin of my teeth, I did not crash into the car in front of me. The lady behind me wasn’t as lucky…
We (I and the now leaking SUV behind me) pulled off to the right shoulder, contacted the police, exchanged information, had both our vehicles towed (mine was on a flatbed, of course) and I ended that excitement by getting a ride home by the very nice flatbed driver – turns out that my place was on the way to where the holding yard was. I was told that I could file an “over the counter” police report the next day, provided the address to do so (I guess the cop at the scene wanted to avoid the paperwork himself) and given a signed confession from Alison (the very nice lady that hit me). My plan was to contact my insurance, get Precious moved back over to Bob at Paradise – mainly because he was already well versed in dealing with this car – then order up a rental car to be used while waiting for the repair to be completed. I would set this plan in motion the next morning … it was too late to get anything started that evening…
Upon contacting my insurance, it was decided that my best move would be to open a claim directly with Alison’s insurance – Encompass. As fault was not questionable in this accident, there really was no reason for me to involve my insurance at all. I had already filed a rather substantial claim about a year ago and was trying my best to avoid any increase in my premiums. I figured leaving my insurance out of this completely was a good idea. As a “just in case” measure, I did head down to the CHP station and filed an OTC accident report later that day. It was yet one more incident that demonstrates the pure contempt that many of today’s police officers have toward the citizens they are supposed to be working for. Here’s how that event unfolded…
I approached the counter and informed the officer that I was instructed by the responding officer, the evening before, that I could head to this office and file an OTC accident report – that was my reason for being there. It seemed that I was disturbing his television viewing schedule (there was a TV mounted on the wall that appeared to have no other use than to entertain this officer during his work hours) although he diverted his eyes from the set long enough to grab an empty traffic collision report form, quickly cross out large sections of it, highlight what he wanted me to fill in and tell me to write a description of what happened on the back. I then showed the signed, written confession I had obtained from Alison and requested that it be included in the report and started filling out the sections marked. I was then told that I needed to go get pictures of the damage to my car before I would be allowed to file the report. I shrugged this off and continued filling out the collision report form…
Everything I could remember was written in my accident description – including the responding officer’s name and badge number. I also made mention of the self-written, signed confession of guilt that was provided to me by the other driver. After finishing the report, I started heading back out to my rental car a bit peeved that I was being asked to waste more of my time obtaining pictures that I saw as being completely useless. The officer said that he needed the pictures to show that an accident actually occurred; even though I had the name and badge number of the responding officer as well as a signed confession by the other driver. I decided then that these pictures were unnecessary; turned around and headed back in to the office.
After patiently waiting for this same officer to finish an extremely important discussion he was having with another officer about some purely non-work-related subject (I forget what they were talking about – something about some chick or sporting event or the like; whatever it was, it sure as hell wasn’t more important that doing what they’re being paid for...), I informed said officer that I believed the pictures to be unnecessary and wanted to file the report as it stood. He then rather insolently asked me how he knew an accident even occurred. To this I suggested that he could inquire with the responding officer and pointed out the name and badge number written in the report. As a second, and perhaps much more obvious proof, I had a signed confession for the other party in the accident. I once again reiterated my belief that the pictures were overkill at best and requested that the report be filed.
It was then that my interfering with his television watching and socializing activities apparently pissed him off a bit. I distinctly remember him saying that I could “ask” him to file the report but I had no authority to “tell” him to file it. Personally, I’m pretty sure that I do have the authority to file a report whenever I feel like it being that I am a legal, taxpaying citizen of this country – granted I could get myself into quite a bit of trouble by filing false reports; however this cop – as seems to be a far too prevalent these days – appears to be suffering from a bad case of superiority complex. I returned his blatant threat with, “Pretty please, will you file this report?” He then sat down at his desk and filed the report for me.
I really cannot tell you how dismayed I’ve become of late about the seemingly endless contempt that law enforcement officers (and not just the cops, but the whole American legal system) seem to have to the populace they are supposed to be protecting. The way that presumption of innocence has turned into a dated concept really bothers me to no extent. But I digress … although the deterioration of the rights we Americans currently possess is an interesting topic, it’s not what I came to bitch about today. I’ll get back to my story…
Okay, so I’ve done my best to make sure that I am, in no way, able to be shown at fault in this accident. Whether or not that even means anything these days is yet to be seen however I’ve gone way out of my way to clear my name in case it becomes an issue. The goal now becomes getting Precious adequately repaired with little to no cost on my part. I contact Encompass Insurance and file a claim. Here’s where the fun begins…
Everything seems to go fine from the start: I successfully get Precious dropped off at Paradise Body & Paint and, after being informed by Regina at Encompass that I would be allotted $25 per day for a rental vehicle during the repairs, decide to switch out my initial rental car (obtained from the Thousand Oaks Avis for $30.99 per day) to a rental from the Avis that Paradise works with for $25.99 per day. It’s still more than the insurance is willing to pay – a fact that I will address later – however it looks to be saving me $5 a day from what I could possibly be held responsible for. Whatever … I suppose I need to do what I need to do. I now need to wait for Encompass to complete an appraisal of the damage before the body shop can begin the work. How long could this take, right…?
At this point, I’m set. I’ve got a rental car to use whilst Precious is in the shop and all I need to do now is wait for that call telling me she’s ready to be picked up, right? One would think … but in today’s world, no frickin’ way. It’s somewhere around a week after my poor, wounded car is delivered to the body shop when I finally decide to call in and see how things are going. What I’m basically told is that they’re not going – something about the appraisal being insufficient for the work required and there being some need for another appraisal to fix the problems with the first … yadda yadda yadda and blah blah blah… I figured I best call Encompass and get their side of things…
I call and – as what will become the norm with trying to contact Regina – am greeted by a voice-mail message that informs me what day it is, what the working hours for Regina are and that I should leave a message with my name, contact number and claim number so that she would be able to get back with me prior to the end of the business day. I leave the requested information. No call is returned prior to the end of her business day nor the complete morning on the day after. I decide to try contacting her again in the early afternoon of the next day and get a bit lucky – she answers the call. I inquire with her about the status of my claim and am told the standard “song and dance” that everyone gets – their appraiser was sent to the body shop and an appraisal was filed. I explain that the body shop is telling me that the appraisal is insufficient for the work required and get the standard response that they are, by law, required to repair the car to a condition prior to the accident and that, since my car was an ’02 model, the appraisal would not include any improvements. It was then that I tried to explain to Regina that my car was a rare, limited edition collector’s item that I had kept as close to pristine as I could. It was, in no way whatsoever, your typical ’02 car. I was doing my best to convey that they were not going to get away with low-balling the repair and they might as well cut their losses (I reminded her that Encompass was paying for my rental as long as this repair took) and pay for the repairs needed. She then FAXed the appraisal for me to look over…
What I got was an initial appraisal of $6989.96 for repairs. This was the official appraisal dated 10-12-09. Interestingly enough, there was also a supplemental adjustment of -$1436.93 dated two days later. I was confused by this and decided to call Bob at the body shop. He received the same thing and this was actually the problem he was referring to on my initial contact with him. The fourteen hundred dollar savings was the removal of a replacement quarter panel from the initial appraisal. Bob was told that he needed to repair the current quarter panel when the second appraisal was filed since, as it appears, the first appraisal was seen as too expensive by Encompass – even though this was what the appraiser priced it at. Luckily Bob refused to do it and insisted that a new quarter panel was required. In his expert opinion – an opinion that was apparently shared by the initial appraisal – the quarter panel was beyond repair and needed to be replaced.
Since then, there have been a couple more (at least) appraisals filed that seem to (trying to make sense of this paperwork is next to impossible for me) bring the total price for repair up to $7475.75. That’s actually more than the initial appraisal – which I find rather interesting – and the new quarter panel has been added back in. From what Bob has informed me, the quarter panel has been ordered from Canada and should currently be at the shop. He told me it was the absolute last one available. It also appears that the rear Firehawk decal is no longer available which bums me out a bit; but I’m hoping to at least be getting my car back sometime soon. Unfortunately I actually have no idea whether or not this will happen…
As of Friday evening, I’m heading back to Michigan for a week. Last time I spoke with Bob, I was told that he wouldn’t have the car completed by Friday. I need to return my rental car then though, so I’m hoping that my car will get completed prior to my return. The reason I’m hoping this is because I was actually able to get Encompass to put my rental on a direct bill to them – not an easy task, mind you… Of course Avis called me earlier today and informed me that Encompass was under the impression that I had been renting this car since the 4th of November. Seeing as it was actually the 8th of October, I think they’re not going to be too happy. Lynette (Regina’s boss) did tell me that they would take the rental cost as a direct bill due to the ungodly amount of time that this repair is taking thanks in large part to delays caused directly by Encompass. Yeah … something tells me this isn’t going to go too smoothly… Anyway, I’m hoping to be able to get Precious back on my return as to avoid the need to get another rental. As if my luck was ever that good…
Oh well, that’s the latest cluster-fuck that I’m being forced to deal with. I hate my life…
bis später,
Coriolis
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Monday, November 02, 2009
Like a Chump
Sometimes life is good. Usually however, life is nothing more than a seemingly endless series of punches to the gut ending with the sweet, sweet release that is death. I just had a weekend that reminded me of this and I’m actually a bit confused as to why I’m even bothered by it. Oh wait, now I remember … people are assholes!
Yeah, I realize that’s a rather all-encompassing statement and I actually do still have a slight glimmer of hope that it’s somehow incorrect; but my experiences in this god-forsaken existence thus far seem to be somewhat overwhelmed in dealing with assholes. And the worst part about this – almost without fail – is that these people seem to be masters at putting on the façade of an actual caring, sensitive, oftentimes naïve human being long enough to suck you into their trap before their true, heartless narcissism inevitably claws through the guise and once again claims its spot as overlord of this person’s actual self. Of course by then it’s too late – the portion of your own soul that was so foolishly sacrificed in your desperate attempt at happiness is gone … devoured by yet one more apathetic receptacle … leaving you withered, weary and broken. It’s just such a waste of life…
Or perhaps the problem lies with me…? Am I wrong to expect others to return the kindness and generosity (or at least the understanding) that I honestly believe I’ve imparted to them? Perhaps I’m the flawed one here that doesn’t understand the true meaning of selflessness … maybe it’s I that can’t unquestionably love… I suppose it is possible that something within my genetic makeup is flawed in a way such that I am destined to never be able to “understand” the unwritten yet universally known rules that make successful relationships possible. Is it possible that I am the asshole? I really don’t think so…
You see, this is what happened…
For the last year and a half or so, I’ve been dating (well, off and on, I guess…) this woman. At the beginning, things were great. Good enough for her to actually move in with me back when I was living at Chris’ place in Camarillo. Granted, this didn’t last long – something like five months or so before she moved out – but at that time, things were good. I was happy, I believe she was happy, and apart from my sudden need to repeatedly schedule appointments with a dermatologist, our future was looking rather sunny.
Yes, you read that correctly. Shortly after my girlfriend moved in with me, a situation arose that required me to see a dermatologist. I was worried! Not for myself, mind you, but for my Nini. I was afraid that I may have picked up something during my time in Europe (all the trips to Amsterdam and such…) that remained dormant for what would then have been about a year before showing signs. I had not … and the silliness of this fear just now became evident to me whilst typing that last sentence. As it turns out, the issue wasn’t with me. To me however, it really didn’t matter (and NO, Nini did not give me VD … the human body is a complicated piece of equipment … ‘nuff said about that…); I could survive the discomfort for the good of the relationship. After all, that was what was really important, right? Besides, the issue would be solved soon enough…
As time continued to pass, the excitement that was “us” began to ebb. No big surprise here – that’s just the way things usually go. I believe this occurrence has been well documented in many stories, poems and songs. As Roger Waters so aptly scribed:
Yeah, I realize that’s a rather all-encompassing statement and I actually do still have a slight glimmer of hope that it’s somehow incorrect; but my experiences in this god-forsaken existence thus far seem to be somewhat overwhelmed in dealing with assholes. And the worst part about this – almost without fail – is that these people seem to be masters at putting on the façade of an actual caring, sensitive, oftentimes naïve human being long enough to suck you into their trap before their true, heartless narcissism inevitably claws through the guise and once again claims its spot as overlord of this person’s actual self. Of course by then it’s too late – the portion of your own soul that was so foolishly sacrificed in your desperate attempt at happiness is gone … devoured by yet one more apathetic receptacle … leaving you withered, weary and broken. It’s just such a waste of life…
Or perhaps the problem lies with me…? Am I wrong to expect others to return the kindness and generosity (or at least the understanding) that I honestly believe I’ve imparted to them? Perhaps I’m the flawed one here that doesn’t understand the true meaning of selflessness … maybe it’s I that can’t unquestionably love… I suppose it is possible that something within my genetic makeup is flawed in a way such that I am destined to never be able to “understand” the unwritten yet universally known rules that make successful relationships possible. Is it possible that I am the asshole? I really don’t think so…
You see, this is what happened…
For the last year and a half or so, I’ve been dating (well, off and on, I guess…) this woman. At the beginning, things were great. Good enough for her to actually move in with me back when I was living at Chris’ place in Camarillo. Granted, this didn’t last long – something like five months or so before she moved out – but at that time, things were good. I was happy, I believe she was happy, and apart from my sudden need to repeatedly schedule appointments with a dermatologist, our future was looking rather sunny.
Yes, you read that correctly. Shortly after my girlfriend moved in with me, a situation arose that required me to see a dermatologist. I was worried! Not for myself, mind you, but for my Nini. I was afraid that I may have picked up something during my time in Europe (all the trips to Amsterdam and such…) that remained dormant for what would then have been about a year before showing signs. I had not … and the silliness of this fear just now became evident to me whilst typing that last sentence. As it turns out, the issue wasn’t with me. To me however, it really didn’t matter (and NO, Nini did not give me VD … the human body is a complicated piece of equipment … ‘nuff said about that…); I could survive the discomfort for the good of the relationship. After all, that was what was really important, right? Besides, the issue would be solved soon enough…
As time continued to pass, the excitement that was “us” began to ebb. No big surprise here – that’s just the way things usually go. I believe this occurrence has been well documented in many stories, poems and songs. As Roger Waters so aptly scribed:
Day after day, love turns grey
Like the skin of a dying man
And night after night, we pretend it’s alright
But I have grown older
And you have grown colder
And nothing is very much fun anymore
Unfortunately for Nini and me, this deterioration was a bit accelerated. We really had very little in common; and by “very little” I suppose it was nothing more than our mistaken belief that we loved each other. But for me, this meant something. I’m now beginning to wonder if it ever meant anything to her…
I believe it was five months, to the day, after we started officially dating that our first “official” break-up happened. Nini moved out and found a new place to live. It was your typical “we need some distance/time apart” scenario that all relationships heading for failure go through. It was a bit strange as it happened though – out of the blue, she tells me we need to spend some time apart; I agree with her and ask her to move out; she quickly finds a new place and does just that. I think the whole ordeal was completed in one weekend if memory serves me correctly. And that was that … until…
We somehow got back together. Since where she moved was only something like 5 to 10 minutes away from where I was living; I suppose it was inevitable. I don’t know, but I’m thinking this period might have been her first attempt at “playing the field”. I remember at the time thinking that she probably found someone new and wanted to make herself available if this new guy was interested – all pure speculation by me, of course. If this was the case, then things didn’t go as planned for her – we ended up getting back together.
Nini remained living on her own; however we once again became an official couple – your standard “someone to hang out with” on weekends, daily guest to dine with and usual companion for most weekend nights. I was even planning on flying her home with me for the holidays later that year. Of course this somehow turned into a problem for her and she decided not to join me on my trip home for the holidays but rather to inform me in the Outback’s parking lot that we needed to “stop doing this”.
Once again, this rather sudden change of heart took me a bit by surprise; however to be honest, it was all getting a bit old for me then. I just told her that she was making a mistake and once again let her go. She wasn’t gone for too long before we somehow (and to be honest, I can’t even recall how it happened this time) got back together.
When Christmas came, I flew home by myself. Whether Nini and I were considered a couple then, I honestly don’t remember. It’s now all so fuzzy to me exactly when we were and weren’t seeing each other... I do know however that we were a couple again for the beginning of this year (after I returned from my holiday trips). I know this because this was when I started spending way too much time at work – no less than three months straight of 70+ hour workweeks – and also when Nini began doing hikes with this religious group that she somehow stumbled upon. It was also the beginning of the final end for Nini and me…
Now anyone that knows me well knows how I feel about organized religions. For those that don’t, let’s just say that I’m not a big fan… Nini knew this as well; but I never put any pressure on her to not believe if she so chose. She was going on these hikes with this religious group and frankly I was far too busy with work to let it bother me. All of my weekends were being used for work already, so the fact that Nini wasn’t spending them with me didn’t send off too many red alerts in my mind … until the work was completed…
When my work schedule returned to normal, I once again had some actual free time. It was then that I started noticing some very peculiar aspects about Nini and her little hiking cult. It had occurred to me earlier as a bit strange that she never – and I do mean NEVER – even asked me if I wanted to join them on one of their hikes. It didn’t faze me much when I was swamped with work as I didn’t really have the time. Also, it was a religious cult and I was assuming that Nini was trying to respect my beliefs by not forcing me to go … but she never even went as far as inviting me… Okay, that’s fine … if she needs this time for herself, I’ll give it to her. I would occasionally crack a joke about making sure she didn’t drink the Kool-Aid or something in a poorly constructed attempt at conveying my discomfort that would always miss the target; however it was not my place to tell her what she could and couldn’t do. I loved her enough to trust that she would return the trust. Hell, I was even stupid enough to think that she actually meant it when she said that she loved me…
Fast forward a couple months where I take a weeklong trip back to my house in Colorado. It’s a horrible trip that ends up going something like four days longer than scheduled in order for me to begin the process of basically kicking my best friend out of my house (long story … don’t ask…). When I return back to California, I’m greeted by a girlfriend that says she can’t see me that day because she’s going on a hike with her fucking cult. Are you kidding me?! I’m in horrible shape returning from the worst trip in my life and my very own girlfriend stands me up for a fucking religious cult! This is a bad sign … a bad sign…
Sure enough, a few days later, I’m out walking with Nini by my elaborate boarding house that has become my home of late when she mentions something about an upcoming comet or meteor shower or the like. How the conversation got to this is beyond me, but somehow she mentioned it. My response is some kind of quip about her ignoring her cult’s request to hop on the spaceship following the comet and that’s it. I’d apparently gone too far and she wasn’t taking it any more. We stood out front of the house where I am living arguing about nothing. She was extremely offended and I was extremely confused. After explaining several times in several ways that it was a joke that wasn’t really a joke (dark comedy, as it’s known…) and getting nowhere, I proclaimed that I “couldn’t do this anymore” and said I was done. I turned and headed into the house and she drove herself home.
So that was the end. This rollercoaster ride of a relationship finally derailed on a difference in ideological beliefs. I lost my girlfriend to a goddamn religious cult! One more brain washed clean by a group of fanatical zealots. Or so I thought…
Until Saturday night. I was at a party. Nini was there with her new (how “new” I am unaware) boyfriend. From what I was able to gather, they met at this “hiking club”…
So that explains quite a bit. Mainly it explains why I was never invited on these hiking trips. It does a wonderful job at explaining why my girlfriend decided to stand me up when I needed her most and quite clearly demonstrates that my love for this woman was misguided at best. It’s just one more piece of my soul lost…
Bobby, my man, she’s your problem now…
bis später,
Coriolis
I believe it was five months, to the day, after we started officially dating that our first “official” break-up happened. Nini moved out and found a new place to live. It was your typical “we need some distance/time apart” scenario that all relationships heading for failure go through. It was a bit strange as it happened though – out of the blue, she tells me we need to spend some time apart; I agree with her and ask her to move out; she quickly finds a new place and does just that. I think the whole ordeal was completed in one weekend if memory serves me correctly. And that was that … until…
We somehow got back together. Since where she moved was only something like 5 to 10 minutes away from where I was living; I suppose it was inevitable. I don’t know, but I’m thinking this period might have been her first attempt at “playing the field”. I remember at the time thinking that she probably found someone new and wanted to make herself available if this new guy was interested – all pure speculation by me, of course. If this was the case, then things didn’t go as planned for her – we ended up getting back together.
Nini remained living on her own; however we once again became an official couple – your standard “someone to hang out with” on weekends, daily guest to dine with and usual companion for most weekend nights. I was even planning on flying her home with me for the holidays later that year. Of course this somehow turned into a problem for her and she decided not to join me on my trip home for the holidays but rather to inform me in the Outback’s parking lot that we needed to “stop doing this”.
Once again, this rather sudden change of heart took me a bit by surprise; however to be honest, it was all getting a bit old for me then. I just told her that she was making a mistake and once again let her go. She wasn’t gone for too long before we somehow (and to be honest, I can’t even recall how it happened this time) got back together.
When Christmas came, I flew home by myself. Whether Nini and I were considered a couple then, I honestly don’t remember. It’s now all so fuzzy to me exactly when we were and weren’t seeing each other... I do know however that we were a couple again for the beginning of this year (after I returned from my holiday trips). I know this because this was when I started spending way too much time at work – no less than three months straight of 70+ hour workweeks – and also when Nini began doing hikes with this religious group that she somehow stumbled upon. It was also the beginning of the final end for Nini and me…
Now anyone that knows me well knows how I feel about organized religions. For those that don’t, let’s just say that I’m not a big fan… Nini knew this as well; but I never put any pressure on her to not believe if she so chose. She was going on these hikes with this religious group and frankly I was far too busy with work to let it bother me. All of my weekends were being used for work already, so the fact that Nini wasn’t spending them with me didn’t send off too many red alerts in my mind … until the work was completed…
When my work schedule returned to normal, I once again had some actual free time. It was then that I started noticing some very peculiar aspects about Nini and her little hiking cult. It had occurred to me earlier as a bit strange that she never – and I do mean NEVER – even asked me if I wanted to join them on one of their hikes. It didn’t faze me much when I was swamped with work as I didn’t really have the time. Also, it was a religious cult and I was assuming that Nini was trying to respect my beliefs by not forcing me to go … but she never even went as far as inviting me… Okay, that’s fine … if she needs this time for herself, I’ll give it to her. I would occasionally crack a joke about making sure she didn’t drink the Kool-Aid or something in a poorly constructed attempt at conveying my discomfort that would always miss the target; however it was not my place to tell her what she could and couldn’t do. I loved her enough to trust that she would return the trust. Hell, I was even stupid enough to think that she actually meant it when she said that she loved me…
Fast forward a couple months where I take a weeklong trip back to my house in Colorado. It’s a horrible trip that ends up going something like four days longer than scheduled in order for me to begin the process of basically kicking my best friend out of my house (long story … don’t ask…). When I return back to California, I’m greeted by a girlfriend that says she can’t see me that day because she’s going on a hike with her fucking cult. Are you kidding me?! I’m in horrible shape returning from the worst trip in my life and my very own girlfriend stands me up for a fucking religious cult! This is a bad sign … a bad sign…
Sure enough, a few days later, I’m out walking with Nini by my elaborate boarding house that has become my home of late when she mentions something about an upcoming comet or meteor shower or the like. How the conversation got to this is beyond me, but somehow she mentioned it. My response is some kind of quip about her ignoring her cult’s request to hop on the spaceship following the comet and that’s it. I’d apparently gone too far and she wasn’t taking it any more. We stood out front of the house where I am living arguing about nothing. She was extremely offended and I was extremely confused. After explaining several times in several ways that it was a joke that wasn’t really a joke (dark comedy, as it’s known…) and getting nowhere, I proclaimed that I “couldn’t do this anymore” and said I was done. I turned and headed into the house and she drove herself home.
So that was the end. This rollercoaster ride of a relationship finally derailed on a difference in ideological beliefs. I lost my girlfriend to a goddamn religious cult! One more brain washed clean by a group of fanatical zealots. Or so I thought…
Until Saturday night. I was at a party. Nini was there with her new (how “new” I am unaware) boyfriend. From what I was able to gather, they met at this “hiking club”…
So that explains quite a bit. Mainly it explains why I was never invited on these hiking trips. It does a wonderful job at explaining why my girlfriend decided to stand me up when I needed her most and quite clearly demonstrates that my love for this woman was misguided at best. It’s just one more piece of my soul lost…
Bobby, my man, she’s your problem now…
bis später,
Coriolis
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