Never Leave Home Without A Migraine

So, the other day, I did something that is, even for me, amazingly stupid with a capital "S".

I was driving Em to a shopping mall parking lot, which was a pick-up point for a camp she was going to for the weekend. I looked all disheveled, not having washed my hair, and having thrown on a dirty pair of sweats. I also was experiencing Day Three of a migraine, which often makes me look like this:


Not only that (if you can imagine things getting any worse) but I was driving my dad's old car, with a rusting license plate and a heater that doesn't work. It also had a plastic dog poop in the back window before Mr. Handsome demanded it be taken down. Now, it's in the glove compartment, a much better location.

So, I was driving along a busy road, worrying that we were going to be late dropping Em off for the bus to camp because she demanded I go through the Tim Horton's drive-thru for an iced cappuccino, which I did because she was buying. I managed to time things perfectly, ending up stopping at every single traffic light in our path, which just made matters worse.

Finally, I'd had enough of this crap. I don't like being late for things, and I'd be damned if I was going to have Em miss her bus and NOT go away for an entire weekend of pure bliss (for me). The traffic was atrocious (it being rush hour and all), people were impatient (it was Friday), and my head was throbbing. Also, I had caught a glimpse of myself in the rear-view mirror, and I almost lost control of the car. Yeah, it was THAT bad.

As I'm stopped at YET ANOTHER RED LIGHT, this dingwad from the local KFC parking lot starts edging his way in front of me, all nonchalantly, as if it was no big deal. I look at him, and he's ignoring me. He couldn't have been older than 18, and he thought he was pretty much god's gift to mankind. The passenger in his black sporty number could have been his twin. I stared at them, in total disbelief, as he kept pushing his way in front of me, thinking nothing of it. "No, I don't mind," I said out loud, to Em's astonishment. "Go right ahead and butt in front of me. I don't mind you taking my spot at all, the spot I've been sitting in for the past five minutes."

For a moment, I thought of playing games with him, but decided I'd put enough dents and scratches in the car for the time being, so I let the douchebag in.

Suddenly, the traffic is moving again, and we're off. And then, we're not. And then we are again.

Oh?! What do I see ahead? A green light that's about to turn yellow? Oh no you don't, I say to myself as I bang my head against the steering wheel, forgetting that my head was already pounding.

Dingleberry in front of me was obviously thinking the same thing, because he scoots through the now-red light and stops up ahead, behind all the traffic. And I decide to do the same thing. Because, what the hell? Traffic lights were meant to be broken, or something like that. And anystupidfollowerthatIam, the huge black, tainted windowed SUV beside me WAS ALSO GOING THROUGH THE RED LIGHT, which to me was the same as saying, 'God has blessed you to be safe in this act, my child. Go forth.' And so I did, muttering something under my breath like, "Awesome." I'm cool like that.

And then, I heard the siren go off. Just a bit, but it was enough for my heart to stop beating, and for the bile to rise in my throat. And I'm looking in the mirrors, saying, "What tha hell?" as I look around for the po po.

Well, guess what? The po po was in the big black SUV, and he had just rolled down his passenger window, and he was staring at me and pointing his huge po po finger at me, and saying, "You just went through a red light, eh?"

And I said, "Oh? I did?"

At which point I was pretty sure I was toast, because WHO THE HELL DOESN'T KNOW THEY JUST WENT THROUGH A RED LIGHT?! Unless, of course, you look like me.

And the po po said, "Yes, you did, and you're the SECOND person to go through that red light, and I've been trying to catch the guy ahead of you because HE just went through the red light."

And I sit there, and I look at the po po, and I wait for him to tell me to pull over in that parking lot up ahead so that he can give me a huge ticket, take off a few demerit points, and laugh at me as he signs his name, and signs my life away.

But you know what, guys? He waved me on! Yes, he did! He waved me on, and he pulled away ahead of me, and HE PULLED OVER THE ASSCLOWNS WHO CUT ME OFF! Can you believe it?

I am still in awe of the whole experience. The only explanation for the whole thing is that my face scared the crap out of poor Mr. Po Po, and he was sure that if he had to get any closer to me, he might not live to go home to his box of doughnuts.

So, folks, today's lesson is: Never leave home looking good. Not only will it save you time, it will save you TONS of money and embarrassment. You're welcome, Mr. Handsome.