I often do stupid things. I won’t even begin to list them because I’m already having to fight off a pity party, so I’ll just stick to the latest incident in the very long list of stupid things.
I have a bad habit of running out of gas. It’s about time or convenience. My favorite gas station is a few blocks from my apartment, but lately their prices have been a few cents higher than a couple of others, and I’ve stopped using them. The gas stations with really great prices are often five to ten miles away from me. So, there has been many an occasion that I’ve driven to work on the E, and coasted my way into a gas station with my truck begging for mercy.
Usually, when my truck putters out, I can let it sit for a couple minutes, and then it will turn over and I can drive another couple miles on it, and I don’t go very many places where I would be more than a couple miles away from a gas station. (I say usually like it happens a lot. Does once or twice a month count as “a lot”? Yeah, I thought so.)
Today when I got off work, I was in a hurry to go buy a vacuum. I didn’t even realize I was on Empty. I stopped at a red light, and when the light turned green, I put my foot on the gas and my truck said Prrghhhh. (How come guys are so much better at making engine sounds?) So I died in the intersection, but was able to coast through…and almost into the gas station parking lot! I literally was in the driveway of the gas station! It’s just that the entry is uphill a bit, and there was no oomph in my truck.
I thought if I sat there for a minute looking pathetic, that some kind stranger might stop and push me in (and believe me that had this happened, my night would have ended on a different note.) Instead, people honked at me because I was in the way. So, after a few minutes of honking and hand gestures, I gave up, put the truck in reverse, and took my foot off the brake. This got me out of the drive for the gas station, but put me right on the street in front of it.
Two men saw me in the street…and pulled over to push me into the parking lot…of the restaurant across the street! Apparently nobody wanted to risk damaging their own vehicle to push me into the gas station where I needed to be, so I had to be pushed out of the way.
This is where this story turns to crap, because had I just left my truck alone, walked across the street to the gas station, borrowed a gas can and put gas in my truck, the whole embarrassing ordeal could have been wrapped up in about ten minutes. Instead, I decided to call for help. I called my ex. (Yes, the fucktard.)
I really didn’t want it to be him that rescued me, so I kept trying to start my truck. Apparently this is not the proper procedure. Apparently my truck has electronic fuel injection. Apparently in my efforts to save myself, I screwed my truck up.
The tard got there, we put 5 gallons of gas in my truck, it wouldn’t start. We tried to start it for about 30 minutes, and he proclaimed “Well you royally fucked up this time, kid!” Thank you, Captain Obvious.
He called his best friend, Red, who is a mechanic. (Yeah, that’s not really his name, but it’s what color his face turns when he’s annoyed by the stupid things that women do to their vehicles.) Red tried to fix it. He got underneath my truck, banged things around for 20 minutes or so, and decided it’s my fuel pump. (No big deal…just the most expensive problem of all the problems it could have been.) 
$230 later, I’ve got a fuel pump waiting to be installed in my truck. My truck is parked at Reds house. I am spending the night at….
wait for it…
yeah…
the tards house.
Could this day get any worse? Actually, yes it can. Because now it’s almost 3 a.m. and I can’t go to sleep on the couch because the fuckknuckle is on his laptop in the living room. I’m tired and grumpy and, oh by the way, I’ve got an 8 page rough draft due tomorrow.
So the plan is: I’m going to drive the tards truck to work in the morning. I’m going to work until about 2:00, and then I’m going to have to be “sick” or something. Then I’ll have until 5:30 to scrounge together some semblance of a rough draft. Brutal.
How come I have to learn everything the hard way? Don’t take your medicine, Steph? Bleed to death! Don’t put gas in your truck, Steph? Mess your truck up and spend hard earned cash fixing something that wasn’t broke until you got stupid!
Next, it’ll be a “craigslist serial stalker” followed by “why you shouldn’t buy prescription drugs from countries you can’t pronounce.”
Just so I can end on a high note…at least I didn’t get a ticket for not having insurance, right? Right.
