A Less Than Premiere Experience.
Tuesday started good. Got my second Augusten Burroughs set and was listening on the way to work and all was well and fine. Even when Julie called during the midget cleaning lady story and said she couldn’t go with me to the premiere party. I. Was. Fine. I’ve done a lot of shit alone over the years. I mean, you’re a 38 year-old woman who’s single, of course you have. But then the day went weird. Around 4:00pm I got this strange feeling that I shouldn’t go to the party. Or maybe I just didn’t want to go. Because the show didn’t start until 10pm which meant I wouldn’t be heading home until way after that. Everyone who lived nearby – like most adults over the age of 18-- left early to get ready for the party. And me? I was still at work. To either kill time or figure it out.
Still not sure of what I should do, I went into the bathroom and fixed my make-up and then I decided I’d go to Whole Foods and get groceries for the rest of the week. Because what I wore was it. I didn’t have anywhere to primp and drink wine and play. That’s the part I love about going out. The best part of being a female. It’s fun to me. But oh, well. Wasn’t going to happen. Because without Julie, I didn’t have a back-up plan. I did know that I couldn’t drink if I went alone because before I was going to crash at Julie’s place. But drinking when you’re doing the schlep? Well, it just wasn’t happening. After missing Quentin’s bday, I really wanted to be able to go out. I wanted to have fun.
I remember back when I was going through sorority rush at UCLA and I couldn’t afford to pay for the housing costs, so I drove up every day. I left early every day. There was one night when I was so tired that I pulled over at the side of the road and fell asleep for awhile. I was just too tired to drive. I missed the bonding that happened in the dorms. Sure, I got in a house, but there was a part of the experience that I missed. And it wasn’t traumatic or anything but those things stick with you. The things you do to get by. The things you can’t do.
Anyway, I was two blocks from work and my car died. Completely. Dead. I pumped the brakes. They’re power brakes. So nothing. I finally just threw the parking brake on and when that didn’t work, I pulled the emergency brake. And steered towards the curb. I finally came to a stop. And then, I just cried. It was like the twilight zone. It was 8:22pm. I looked at my clock. I’d had lots of car mishaps over the years—including get my car totaled and I figured it out. Always. Usually, I would have Triple A tow my car to the mechanic on my corner and then I’d cross the street, go home and call a cab. It was always fine. But what do you do when you’re over an hour away?
So I called Carla. She was working at “The Insider” until 11ish. She was remarkably calm and two blocks away. She told me to call Triple A, have them check out the car and if it wasn’t okay to drive, have them drop me off at Paramount and she’d drive me home. I was so grateful. I called Quentin and left a message while I waited for the the tow truck driver. The driver towed me to work and then tooled around in my car which was suddenly working fine. The check engine light had been on before. That sucker had been dead. It was bizarre. He told me to drive around the parking lot. And I did. It seemed fine but I was scared that it might die on one of the three freeways I take. He told me to take his card and he’d come pick me up if something happened. So home I drove. And I made it. And I cried all night. Not hysterical crying. But rather the kind of tears that just flow while you think you’re talking normal. Like you’re sweating or something. DirecTV didn’t play the premiere episode. Mom and I stayed up talking for awhile. I cried the whole time. It was again, bizarre.
In the morning, I went to a mechanic. He said it was the igniter switch and it could go out again or never again. That it was expensive. $460 not including labor. So he said to just wing it and hope for the best. So I am. My “Driving Force” coworkers didn’t seem to buy the whole car breaking down thing. Because I had my car. But what can you do? They said it was a great party. I was sorry I missed it. But right now, I guess my life Is not supposed to be a party. So tomorrow, on my bday, I’ll just realize it is what it is and believe that some day there will be more. And pray the universe gives it to me.
Still not sure of what I should do, I went into the bathroom and fixed my make-up and then I decided I’d go to Whole Foods and get groceries for the rest of the week. Because what I wore was it. I didn’t have anywhere to primp and drink wine and play. That’s the part I love about going out. The best part of being a female. It’s fun to me. But oh, well. Wasn’t going to happen. Because without Julie, I didn’t have a back-up plan. I did know that I couldn’t drink if I went alone because before I was going to crash at Julie’s place. But drinking when you’re doing the schlep? Well, it just wasn’t happening. After missing Quentin’s bday, I really wanted to be able to go out. I wanted to have fun.
I remember back when I was going through sorority rush at UCLA and I couldn’t afford to pay for the housing costs, so I drove up every day. I left early every day. There was one night when I was so tired that I pulled over at the side of the road and fell asleep for awhile. I was just too tired to drive. I missed the bonding that happened in the dorms. Sure, I got in a house, but there was a part of the experience that I missed. And it wasn’t traumatic or anything but those things stick with you. The things you do to get by. The things you can’t do.
Anyway, I was two blocks from work and my car died. Completely. Dead. I pumped the brakes. They’re power brakes. So nothing. I finally just threw the parking brake on and when that didn’t work, I pulled the emergency brake. And steered towards the curb. I finally came to a stop. And then, I just cried. It was like the twilight zone. It was 8:22pm. I looked at my clock. I’d had lots of car mishaps over the years—including get my car totaled and I figured it out. Always. Usually, I would have Triple A tow my car to the mechanic on my corner and then I’d cross the street, go home and call a cab. It was always fine. But what do you do when you’re over an hour away?
So I called Carla. She was working at “The Insider” until 11ish. She was remarkably calm and two blocks away. She told me to call Triple A, have them check out the car and if it wasn’t okay to drive, have them drop me off at Paramount and she’d drive me home. I was so grateful. I called Quentin and left a message while I waited for the the tow truck driver. The driver towed me to work and then tooled around in my car which was suddenly working fine. The check engine light had been on before. That sucker had been dead. It was bizarre. He told me to drive around the parking lot. And I did. It seemed fine but I was scared that it might die on one of the three freeways I take. He told me to take his card and he’d come pick me up if something happened. So home I drove. And I made it. And I cried all night. Not hysterical crying. But rather the kind of tears that just flow while you think you’re talking normal. Like you’re sweating or something. DirecTV didn’t play the premiere episode. Mom and I stayed up talking for awhile. I cried the whole time. It was again, bizarre.
In the morning, I went to a mechanic. He said it was the igniter switch and it could go out again or never again. That it was expensive. $460 not including labor. So he said to just wing it and hope for the best. So I am. My “Driving Force” coworkers didn’t seem to buy the whole car breaking down thing. Because I had my car. But what can you do? They said it was a great party. I was sorry I missed it. But right now, I guess my life Is not supposed to be a party. So tomorrow, on my bday, I’ll just realize it is what it is and believe that some day there will be more. And pray the universe gives it to me.
posted by jodypwrites | 10:15 PM
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