Ack! Where's My Winchester?
Dammit. So, yesterday, I wound up not getting home until about 7pm. I fell asleep at approximately 7:20pm. I woke up a few minutes before midnight. I stayed up until about 3am. I fell back asleep until about 5am. I had lots of coffee and the most spectacularly silly morning with Mason. I left the apartment around 7am for work. I stopped at the store to pick up more coffee and some club soda and carrot sticks (for snacks, not breakfast.) I went back to my car.
It almost started.
After the single most gruelling attempt I have ever endured at placing my call to AAA, I finally got the so-not-feeling-it-baby-you-just-don't-fuss-yo'self dispatcher to take my actual information (as opposed to whatever the info that kept getting made up and repeated back to me was.)
Neil, my coworker, showed up and kept being such a fucking GUY by continuing to try to TALK to me while I was trying to persuade the dispatcher not to send a tow truck to an alternate universe to fetch my car from a parallel dimension. Neil is an awesome guy and a sweet guy and my favorite coworker, but OH MY FUCKING CHRIST SHUT THE FUCKING FUCK UP WHILE I'M HAVING TO DELVE INTO QUANTUM THEORY AND PARTICLE PHYSICS TO CONVINCE THE FUCKING DISPATCHER OF MY ACTUAL WHEREABOUTS AT THIS PARTICULAR POINT IN THE SPACE-TIME CONTINUUM AND I JUST KNOW JOHN "I WORKED AT A GARAGE" WINCHESTER HAS DONE THIS TO A WOMAN AND I WILL BE WRITING THAT FIC, TOO, GODDAMMIT, AND NOT ALL OF HIS HUNTING SKILLS WILL SAVE HIS BITCH-ASS FROM MY WRATH, MARK MY WORDS, SINCE I KNOW THAT THE STARTING WIRE PROBABLY BROKE BECAUSE I'M THE ONE WHO TOLD YOU THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE.
And then I had Neil give me a ride home, where I write this and apprehensively await whether or not I'll receive a call from a tow truck driver in this vector of the galaxy.
It almost started.
After the single most gruelling attempt I have ever endured at placing my call to AAA, I finally got the so-not-feeling-it-baby-you-just-don't-fuss-yo'self dispatcher to take my actual information (as opposed to whatever the info that kept getting made up and repeated back to me was.)
Neil, my coworker, showed up and kept being such a fucking GUY by continuing to try to TALK to me while I was trying to persuade the dispatcher not to send a tow truck to an alternate universe to fetch my car from a parallel dimension. Neil is an awesome guy and a sweet guy and my favorite coworker, but OH MY FUCKING CHRIST SHUT THE FUCKING FUCK UP WHILE I'M HAVING TO DELVE INTO QUANTUM THEORY AND PARTICLE PHYSICS TO CONVINCE THE FUCKING DISPATCHER OF MY ACTUAL WHEREABOUTS AT THIS PARTICULAR POINT IN THE SPACE-TIME CONTINUUM AND I JUST KNOW JOHN "I WORKED AT A GARAGE" WINCHESTER HAS DONE THIS TO A WOMAN AND I WILL BE WRITING THAT FIC, TOO, GODDAMMIT, AND NOT ALL OF HIS HUNTING SKILLS WILL SAVE HIS BITCH-ASS FROM MY WRATH, MARK MY WORDS, SINCE I KNOW THAT THE STARTING WIRE PROBABLY BROKE BECAUSE I'M THE ONE WHO TOLD YOU THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE.
And then I had Neil give me a ride home, where I write this and apprehensively await whether or not I'll receive a call from a tow truck driver in this vector of the galaxy.