I’m no stranger to hitting objects while driving. I even hit a policeman once (emphasis on “man” because it wasn’t a squad car–see here and here). As I left the gym last Tuesday, I hit an SUV while backing out. Yes, I was on the phone with Brian, but I was at least wearing my headset, which I always do when I drive. Also, the SUV was backed into the spot in which it was parked and was over the yellow line line, partially in my space. Unfortunately, I hit the right, front end near the tire and running board, which wasn’t over the line.

This was the first time I hit a car, and I didn’t know what to do, so I was understandably anxious. Thank God for Klonopin. Brian, who was still on the phone, told me to leave a note explaining what happened and to include our insurance information. Meanwhile, this “witness” fucking cunt busybody on her way to the gym began yelling at me: “You can’t just leave! That’s illegal!” Um, I wasn’t leaving. I was still in my car, foot on the brake, frozen in the position in which I was backing out, shocked. I so didn’t know what to do–I wasn’t going anywhere!

Meanwhile, this bitch continued to screech at me and the parking lot attendant, asking him where the owners were and demanding that I find them. Apparently, they took their kids to the Kids’ Club, which is in a separate building from the gym, so I went inside and told a staff person what happened, and if anyone in a gold Lexus SUV dropped off their kids. She said they did before going to work out, but that neither they, nor the front desk at the health club would have any license plate information. What did she suggest? Leave a note.

Another lady, who had just picked up her child and happened to follow me outside corrected me–nicely–to say that it was actually an Infiniti SUV, “if that helps,” she added. But the fucking douchebag was still there! I told her what the Kids’ Club staff person said, and she screamed that there was no way the owners have kids because there were no car seats in the SUV! WTF? Apparently, I’m a liar now, too. She left a note of her own that I of course read, but she didn’t leave a name and number, and I was surprised she didn’t ORDER them to purchase car seats.

I did exactly what Brian, the Kids’ Club staff person, and the parking attendant suggested–left a note explaining what happened and that included our insurance policy number, name, and phone number. The upside to this (as if there is one, since we’ll have to pay a deductible and Brian’s now jobless) is that the owner was polite and said the car would probably just need a touch-up paint job.

So FUCK OFF AND DIE, you busybody bitch, and learn to mind your own fucking business. You’re lucky I didn’t have a panic attack right then and there, though I’m sure you still would have treated me like I just murdered the SUV owners instead of hitting their car. I hope you get hit by a car and die that way, after you fuck off. Cunt.

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Courtesy of Leslie’s Omnibus. Apparently, I could be persuaded to be the DS. :[ I find that amusing.

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It’s been unseasonably gorgeous here in Chicago–mid-60s at the end of November? Unheard of! So one of my hockey teammates coordinated an impromptu game of kickball at a local park this past Sunday. It was too warm to spend the day indoors, so Brian and I went.

OK, I didn’t actually hurt myself playing kickball. I did it when I hopped over the wrought iron fence nearest to the field where the game was taking place. There were no nearby entrances, you see. Anyway, I fell on the other side, which fortunately consisted of grass rather than concrete. I must have used my left hand to cushion my fall. That wouldn’t be so bad, except that I was wearing my Official Ring of The Ohio State University (in white gold, thank you very much–I hate gold-toned gold). The ring cut a nice line across my finger, but didn’t sever it at least. However, the finger has been swollen for days now, and I’ve been icing it since we got home. I will be utterly devastated if the ring needs to be sawed off. It was a gift from my parents, after all, and a reminder that I managed to finish grad school in spite of my depression.

The next day, Brian lost his job! That has nothing to do with the kickball game, either, which was lots of fun, by the way, but I just thought I’d add that. If you want all the details about his job loss, you’ll have to register since it’s a private post. You can read more about my private posts here.

Wow. The movie version of The Prestige totally blew me away. I’m surprised to say this, but although I liked the book (see book review here), I LOVED the movie, which I think is way better. Although there are many similarities between the two, I’d say the movie is loosely based on the novel. Yes, there were things that were left out and really not much added in at the screenwriters’ (Jonathan Nolan and Christopher Nolan) discretion, but they did an excellent job adapting this for the big screen.

Not surprisingly, Christian Bale, Hugh Jackman, and Michael Caine give excellent performances, as does David Bowie in his role as Nikolas Tesla, the scientist. However, anyone could have played Scarlett Johansson’s character; Nolan didn’t utilize her full potential as an actress, though the character was a minor one, in my opinion. Rebecca Hall does a much better job portraying Borden’s wife, Sarah. Personally, I think Bale outshines Jackman, but this could be because his character, Alfred Borden, is a bit more complex. However, Jackman really plays up his character’s (Robert–changed from Rupert–Angier’s) obsession with not only learning Borden’s secret to his greatest illusion, but in his quest to outdo him.

I have to admit that if I saw the movie before reading the book, I’d be very disappointed with the novel. That isn’t to say the book isn’t good–it is–but I thought the movie was just so much better and really well done.