I guess the week of April Fool's needs to be eventful.
If you've had the pleasure of reading one of my former posts about my accident prone days just think of this as some sort of bad joke as a continuation of that period in my life.
They say you often have a "feeling" something is going to happen before it actually does. Maybe this is a woman's sixth sense, "instinct" or maybe it's just one of those strange inexplicable paranormal occurrences. In any case, I gave my blood, sweat, and well I saved the tears for later to Flag Football. That's right I bled for the game. One man had already gone down with a sprained ankle and somehow I was next.
It was my signature play and as I go for the touchdown I catch the ball and before I know it I hit the ground like a skater on pavement. Luckily this wasn't pavement and the grass pillowed my fall or well gave me grass burns, bruises and scratches up the left side of my body. However, the large tortoise shell sunglasses I had stubbornly decided to wear in effort of shielding my tired eyes from the burning California sun pierced my temple leaving a bloody gash in their wake of falling from my face. It all felt like a bad slow-mo montage on MTV. Thinking I just hit the ground pretty hard as everyone crowded around, I eventually stood up as I kept hearing gasps and a stunned silence. It's not like I was dripping blood. Well that is until I put my sleeve up to my head when someone said there was blood. My whole reaction to the incident was "Fuck." Simple, expressionless, and just annoyed with myself for wearing my damn sunglasses. Arriving back at the picnic tables where our stuff was sprawled, one of the other girls tells me it just looks worse than it is while my friend walks up with a big wad of toilet paper laughing and telling me to use it. Dude, this isn't where I'm desperately asking my unknown neighbor in the stall next to me for some TP because my stall is out. TP? Really? Didn't your mom teach you that shit sticks to anything wet. I think I still have TP stuck in my gash. (Wow that sounded dirty. Forgive me or not.) Anyways, for some reason I was either stunned or just like well this sucks as I look down at the bloody wad of toilet paper. Thank god it wasn't like when I hit the back of my head on the grocery store floor leaving a bloody mess after I fell off the back of it. I was kind of a bloody mess.
The great part about the park we all play football at is that the bathrooms are relatively nice for a park but there's no mirror! It's like they want you to suffer. All I wanted to know was if there was dirt in my wound and if I needed stitches. But knowing I would have been crying if it was that bad I went to the bathroom with a couple of the girls who cleaned and bandaged me. So of course what do I do but go back out and play of course! Yes I'm that hardcore. Okay really I just wanted to play and it's kind of like if I'm not crying from the pain then I must be good to go.
A trip to the pharmacist later then led to Hydrogen Peroxide, Neosporin, and Waterproof Disney Princess Band Aids. The Transformers weren't big enough. Believe me I'd much rather be donning Bumblebee than Belle. All set and ready for my close up. Okay maybe just my launch at Angels Stadium for Bamboozle among So Cal teeny boppers thinking I'm making some sort of fashion statement.
AFter all of this chaos as I'm still cleaning my wound three times daily, my car decides to hyperventilate and the Check Engine light starts yelling at me. A call to my mechanic leads to a tow truck ride home with some dude from Idaho trying to buy my car on a payment plan for his 18 year old "funny and smart" son who goes to the University of Washington. What is this, a set up? The nightly chaos is over after learning your car hates you despite you hating it more and wanting to sell it only desperately hoping the mechanic won't end up ripping you off the next day with over a grand in labor charges. This leads to worry and non stop playing out every situation until you're still not satisfied only to wake up at 3:30 AM to your neighbor upstairs still editing with loud ass music as you grab the damn Swiffer Mop and bang on the ceiling. I felt like the little old lady from some Comedic film. I can't think of one but I can only imagine if I'd had a knee length nightgown on, slippers, and a hair net with glasses I would have come straight out of an 80s movie. Needless to say I toss and turn and my gash starts pounding as my alarm goes off at 5:15 AM. Lucky me.
One tow truck arrives only to inform me he'll kill my bumper if he drags my car behind him so he tells me to call for a flatbed which of course isn't something you can get a hold of until after 7 AM. The car shop opens at 7 AM. Awesome. Another tow truck later with a flat bed leads me to meeting the most angry black man I've met in a long time. I mean I was fearing for the lives of others on the road as he'd telling me how people call his number to complain about his driving and how it goes straight to his phone line. I mean he was a pro with the words "I'll get right on that." Oh Office Space I heart thee. So after his rants about stupid drivers and how flatbeds can't drive in Culver City because of city regulations we finally pass the stupid "wreck" which was really tree cutters on the 405 parking lot and I make it to my mechanic. Some more bitching from my tow truck driver and some texts to my co-worker, who is nice enough to drive me to and from work and the shop, finally lead to a much needed latte and work at last. Whew. Lucky break.
In the end the night before April Fool's Day I'm left still smiling because I was charged less than a grand, thank god and my gash appears to be healing as it now itches like crazy and it's bruising up nicely. I mean frankly the side of my face is starting to match the assorted colors of my band aids. Neato.
Guess we'll see what else is in store for me or NOT in store for me the rest of this eventful April Fool's week.
(Did I mention another friend of mind fried her computer with tea and the other one he blew up his car as it went up in smoke! What a week! They say shit happens in groups of threes. Chew on that.)
About Me
- JStew
- Once upon a time a short blonde from Nashville, TN moved to la la land to work in feature films. Little did she know she'd do just that but end up leaving film and tv production six years later to start a new career in librarianship across the country. That's right, she not only lived among celebrity royalty reaping the benefits of expensive swag and cashing in on long hours because you have no life when you work up to 16 hours a day or more depending on the show. But after a great deal of thought, "putting out fires," as that's more or less what a soon to be Producer does, was becoming a thing of the past and facilitating young members in a community with digital literacy was to become a part of the future. Thus, from Los Angeles to New York, no not the city but the western part of the state, I am in the process of obtaining a masters in Library Science: School Media which means I will be a librarian in a K-12 or academic university setting if I am so lucky. And just maybe, "peut-etre" I'll become a published writer with all the free time I'll have. Here's hoping a new city, new people, and new adventures will bring more entertaining subjects to capture.