Get Your Life Together!!
Those of you sleeping late this morning at the Village missed an opportunity to see Marc and I push his car up Centennial Olympic Park Drive. I find I feel much more productive if I push the car rather then passively ride in it; it’s a good way to get the endorphins running.
In case the above sarcasm wasn’t noted, let me explain this morning’s events. I woke up frustrated, as one can’t help but do when her college-graduate-roommate is completely broke and can’t afford to pay utilities, thus burgeoning off all expenses onto the two college-student-roommates who have multiple part-time jobs. I did not offer to drive this morning due to my extreme discontent in using any more of my gas in addition to the money I’ve already spent to keep us from losing our apartment.
Marc drove, and we rode without incident until we got off at the North Avenue exit; it was then we noticed that every time Marc braked, the radio would turn off automatically. This provided a sense of discomfort, which escalated once we turned onto Centennial Olympic Park Drive and realized that the car was no longer running. Rather, we were coasting, which is not as carefree as it sounds. Instead of immediately pulling into the closest parking spot and ensuring our safety on the side of the road, Marc kept “driving”, attempting to pull into his regular parking spot across from the Marta stop and the Mission. In what can only be explained by extreme stupidity, he maneuvered the car horizontally in the middle of the street, blocking not only our lanes, but the opposite lanes as well. Noticing that any oncoming traffic would barrel into my side of the vehicle, I jumped out of the passenger’s side and began to push. Pushing the car toward the parking spot near the sidewalk was not challenging; stopping it from rolling into the car parked ahead of it, however, proved exceptionally difficult. On the bright side, once it hit the other car, Marc’s vehicle came to an immediate stop.
At this point, I noticed our difficulties had proved quite entertaining for numerous spectators. Two gentlemen immediately offered to help push the car once again, while another directed traffic. Eventually, with their help to overcome Marc’s yuppie pessimism, the stubborn car was manually moved to an appropriate parking space. I showed my gratification to the gentlemen by offering my sincerest non-monetary appreciation.
Marc and I walked to school, with him attempting to make conversation and me wondering how he would manage to pay for his car on top of rent, food, utilities, and various other life expenses. Once on campus, he proceeded to ask me for money to buy a stamp. I feel completely justified in my response. I looked at him, gave him the once-over-skank-face and walked away.
For those of you who constantly remind me how rude and inconsiderate I am, let me justify my attitude. I’m frustrated because Marc is being carried by my roommate and me. This is not necessarily a choice. Either we carry him, or else we lose our apartment. Also, if I remember correctly, when my car was on its last leg a few weeks ago, I still had to drive it because Marc could not afford gas.
Whereas I do find the above situation rather amusing in its hilarity, current aggravating circumstances prevent me from fully enjoying such misadventures.