Boobages Day starts off with a bang....

Last Saturday

I wake up at the crack of dawn so that I can follow the precise instructions left by my late dad for his world-famous smoked fish – also known as the only reason people ever come to my parties. Having brined for a precise number of hours, the 7.2 pound salmon needs to be taken out, soaked in water, etc. and so on. I had planned on smoking it in the morning, but realize that I’ll run out of time since I need to dash to the airport to pick up my friend Mary Ellen, who I haven’t seen in years but who’s finally come for a visit. No problem. Everything is under control, my timetable for things is going exactly according to plan, there’ll be plenty of time for the fish when we get back. I envision us hanging out outside, relaxing with a pre-party cocktail as we wait for guests to arrive…….

As I’m driving down Addison, I hit Western, and suddenly see……a sea of pink? Of pink WALKERS??? Shit, that’s right – one of those damn 2-day or 3-day walks is this weekend! But what the hell, why are they going through MY neighborhood? I thought they were always shuttled off to someplace vague yet scenic, like the lakefront path. Why me? WHY ME???? I place a call.

Me: Laura, we’ve got a situation here.
Laura: Uh oh, what’s up?
Me: I’m surrounded by WALKERS! In PINK! Walking people everywhere I look!
Laura: Oh boy….
Me: And on my birthday weekend no less!
Laura: That’s just not right.
Me: Exactly! So my question to you is this – would it be so wrong if I suddenly get a bout of physical Tourette’s and “accidentally” jerk the steering wheel and go careening into a crowd of pink? Because you know how I feel about this walking shit.
Laura: Well I…
Me: Hold on a sec…..(yelling) Hey! Let’s see how you feel about your walking when you’ve got a fricking GUMDROP stuck to your chest!!
Me: Okay, so what were you saying?
Laura: Just that you don’t want to get arrested, not on the day of your party – that would have a lot of food going to waste. Can’t you just wave a placard at them or something?
Me: Hold on a sec….(honking horn) Hey! Check out my bumper sticker! Fuck awareness, find a cure! How’s THAT for a cheerful pinkish slogan??
Me: Okay, what were you saying?
Laura: Placard? Maybe?
Me: Good idea – I’ll get back to you.

I don’t even know why I’m so annoyed with these Pink Walk-a-Thons. It’s not necessarily annoyance with the people doing the walking – well, other than the Walking Idiot who stole my Bat Girl spot from me – but it’s the fact of these stupid walks in the first place, that raise money for unknown purposes and that make people feel like they’re doing something, when that time and money could be better spent on something like the Pink Daisy Project, which actually makes a difference in women’s lives. Not this crap. And as a friend said - what the hell is the point of the walking? Can’t they fundraise while they also do something useful, like clean up a river, say?

Indeed.

* * * * * * * *

I pick up Mary Ellen without a problem, and she too is treated to swarms of pink as we head back in the direction of my place. Gee, it’s a shame that it starts pouring – must suck to be walking in the torrential rain and all. So we’re crawling along on Addison, heading to Dinkel’s to pick up my glorious Boobages Par-tay cake, and Mary Ellen is talking:

Mary Ellen: You realize of course that you’ve always had bad luck, even back in Kiev, whe…

*BAM!!!* There is stunned silence in our car for a moment. Then….

Me, raging: Oh COME ON! Not this shit again! You have GOT to be fucking KIDDING me!!

Yes, we’ve been rear-ended. Really. A mere 3 months after the LAST hapless idiot – a girl that time – rear-ended me.

I storm out of the car, an avenging angel as I like to think of it, putting the screws to idiot drivers on behalf of all of us.

Me, to the apparent 18-year old who just slammed into us: What were you thinking? Why weren’t you paying attention? What the hell WAS that??
Him: I…
Me: Don’t people know how to drive anymore? Mary Ellen, call the cops!
Him: I’m sorry…..I don’t think your car was damaged.
Me: How can you tell? You don't know that!

I go around to the side of the car, and see that the panel that was squished in the LAST time I was hit – and was just unsquished by the fine mechanics at Costco when I got new tires – is now squished again. Egads!!

Me, still raging: Look! Look, my car is squished in! Mary Ellen!

She hands me the phone, and after a brief conversation with the dispatcher person, I’m told that we should exchange information and then go to the police station to file a report. Fine. In the meantime, cars on Addison are honking at us for blocking the road. As if I give a shit.

Me to kid: Okay, so they told us to exchange information and then go file a report. Where’s your insurance card?
Kid: I don’t actually have insurance yet…
Me: WHAT??? How could you be driving and not looking at the road knowing you don’t have insurance??
Kid: I just got the car today and was going with my aunt to get insurance and I think the tires are a little bald….
Me: And you just got the car?? And there you were driving around NOT looking at the road?? Mary Ellen, call the police again!

This time, they send someone out, and it was at this time that the most traumatic part of the whole incident occurred:

Cop: I need your insurance card and driver's license to fill out the report.

Me: NOOOOOOoooooooooooooo!

After about a mere hour of paperwork, I’m handed the accident report, which has a court date on it.

Cop, to me: “Now, make sure you show up in court!”

Ha, if he only knew.

By now I’m no longer quite as incensed, and the kid’s car got the brunt of the damage – in fact, his hood is crumpled in and steam seems to be coming from it – so kid and I chat, shake hands, leave on good terms.

By now we’re running late, but no matter, it’ll just take a minute to pick up the cake, which was supposed to be ready by 10AM, and it’s now almost noon. Off we head to Dinkel’s…..

(to be continued)