If you will recall, I did tell you that everyone seemed to be gunning for the Captain's ship. See, I am not paranoid. They were coming, two by two, hands of blue. Last week they succeeded in the form of a hipsterish, skinny jean-wearing being that appeared to be male (if you can get your junk into a pair of skinny jeans without looking like a porn star, you do not qualify as a man). Apparently his lack of genitals led to some mental confusion, causing him to WRECK OUR FREAKING CAR. Of course, he is trying to make it all sound like it wasn't entirely his fault. That's what guys who lack testicles do, shirk responsibility for things that are obviously their fault. So we have to wait to find out what the insurance adjusters think. Which we won't know until after Christmas because things move slower than molasses in this region. One can only imagine the hell awaiting us here at the end of the worst year ever. Have you been keeping score? Your card may be a winner! We've had:
a broken laptop, a leaky ceiling, eyeglasses that had to be returned 100 times, a busted toe that wouldn't heal, a dead stepfather, a widowed mom move in, a dead uncle, two family friend funerals, multiple unsuccessful trips the the so-called foot specialist, a trip to the ER, an adult with a baby disease, a ruined vacation, a dead grandpa, a diagnosis of a killer disease, a domestic dispute over McNuggets, braces, high deductibles& tripled health insurance premiums (thanks, Barack!), a brother being sued by his neighbor, hit by a douchebag, undrive-able car, and just all kinds of other unmentionable BS that is too personal to go into.
Let me know if you have a winning spacemonkey1138 catastrophe bingo card so I can send you your prize, which will be whatever pile of ashes remain after they finish burning what is left of our broken lives.
Meanwhile, an ode to a car I never liked, but teared up for when they hauled it away...