Sometimes I seriously don't know how I manage to exist on this planet. Like, I don't know how I'm not dead yet. Like, how have I not accidentally died? Why am I questioning my ability to exist on this planet?
Because I ran out of gas on Sunset Blvd. in the middle of rush hour traffic today.
Seriously. (I know.) (WHO runs out of gas?) I haven't actually physically gotten my new car yet--I'm still in the rental--and I guess I'm used to cars that have that little light that tell you that it's, um, time to get gas, (okay, YES, I realize you should probably get gas BEFORE that little light comes on, but I like to get as much bang for my buck as possible, so I wait for the light to come on) but this dang motherfucking rental car doesn't have that (apparently life-saving) light and so I was just driving around this afternoon, minding my own business, completely and totally unaware that I was on empty (because my eyes are used to getting the clue) (from the light) (when it pops up in my peripheral vision) (you know?) (but seriously, how do I manage to exist on this planet?) (if I'm that dependant on that damned light) when suddenly my rental car starts to sputter and I'm like, "what the eff?" (I actually thought "what the eff" and not "what the fuck?" because sometimes "what the eff?" is just more appropriate) and then I look down at the console and I see that I'm on empty and then I'm like "what the fuck?" and I'm in, like, one of the middle freaking lanes on Sunset Blvd. right by the ArcLight when this is happening and I suddenly realize (even though this has never happened to me before) (I SWEAR) (and so it technically constitutes a New Thing) I do not have much time, the car is going down and it's going down fast, fuck, fuck, fuck, I have to get over, no one is letting me over, jesus mother fuck just let me the fuck over--
Someone lets me over. I can't remember anything about them--what kind of car they were driving, what they looked like, I've got nothing--I was too frazzled. Still, I give them the thank you hand wave (I really can't stand it when people don't give the thank you hand wave) (that's probably me only really big driving pet peeve) (I don't care if you cut me off, I don't care if you're too busy talking on your cell phone to realize that the light has changed green, and I don't even care that much if you rear-end me, but if I slow down and give you the wave to cut in front of me then you had better give me the freaking thank you hand wave) and now I'm in the far right lane but I don't want the car to die on Sunset because I know that's just gonna be way unpleasant (oh my god, I'm sorry to interrupt this sob story about me and my stupidity, but I'm sitting at a coffeeshop right now and I looked up and this guy walked into the coffeeshop who looks exactly like Snake from Degrassi and I almost had a heart attack because a Snake from Degrassi sighting might perhaps be the coolest celebrity sighting in the history of celebrity sightings, but alas, it wasn't Snake from Degrassi, it was just some dude who looks like Snake from Degrassi) (I am such a dork) (but if you're also a Degrassi fan, then you know what I mean when I say that a Snake from Degrassi sighting is a pretty big freaking deal) (not that I have a crush on Snake from Degrassi) (um, no) (not in the least) (let's get real) (he's just cool) (if Daniel Clark, aka Sean, walked into the coffeeshop, well, that would be a different story) (and he's totally 21, so I'm allowed to have a crush on him) (I totally forget what I was saying) (now I'm all Degrassi blah blah Degrassi blah blah Sean is hot blah blah) (oh right) (me being an idiot today) (but first) (speaking of idiots) (I was just thinking that I want to read Dostoyevsky's The Idiot again) (do you like how I've been going on and on about television and then I just dropped Dostoyevsky into the mix?) (smooth, right?) (but The Idiot is an AMAZING book) (anyway) so I somehow have enough gas to pull onto a side street and then my car miraculously--sput--sput--sputters to an undeniable stop in a metered parking space. But not just any metered parking space: one with a broken meter, which means that I don't have to feed it (I think) (or maybe it means you're not supposed to park there) (I'm not absolutely sure of the law regarding broken parking meters) (but I went ahead and assumed it was a valid space) (not that I really had much choice in the matter) (the car was DEWAD) (obviously I meant to type "DEAD" just now, but don't you think "DEWAD" is a much better word?) (Like, if the real word for dead was dewad, the second sentence of this post would have read "like, I don't know how I'm not dewad yet" and that's just a supremely better sentence than "like, I don't know how I'm not dead yet") and so I get out of my car and I call Jesse, who I was maybe potentially going to meet me at a coffeeshop so we could both get some work done and not drink coffee (because I don't drink coffee) (or anything with caffeine anymore) (but oh my god don't let me get started about how I'm not drinking caffeine anymore) (because it's driving me crazy) (I think that all of the drug naysayers might be pushing the wrong message when they're, like, "heroin and crystal meth are evil"--I mean, obviously) (but no one is talking about the evil that is soda pop!) and Jesse's like "I don't want to drive to the east side, I'm not meeting you for coffee," and then I'm like, "dude, I just ran out of gas," and then he's like, "call Triple A," and then I'm like "yeah, I know, but I'm not really feeling Triple A right now because they took a really long time to come last week when I locked my keys in my running car," and then Jesse's like, "call Triple A," and then I'm like, "I dunno," and then he's like, "dude," and then I'm like, "dude," and then I call Sian, who I'd just had lunch with and who was also maybe going to meet me at the coffeeshop because she had work to get done too (and she DOES drink coffee) and she's like, "I can't meet you at the coffeeshop," and then I'm like, "dude, my car just ran out of gas on Sunset Blvd." and then she's like, "oh my god," and I'm like, "I know," and she's like, "what are you going to do?" and then I'm like, "well, I don't want to call Triple A because I'm mad at them right now, so I'm walking to the gas station to buy some gas and carry it to my car in one of those red gas tub thingies," and she's like, "do you want me to come save you?" but I don't need any saving, I'm doing okay, so I tell her it's okay, and then we hang up and I walk past several really smelly houses on Cahuenga that (I swear to God) smelled exactly like Rawhide Ranch, which was this terrible summer camp that I went to when I was twelve and they pretty much made us pick up goat poop all day and it was really quite hellacious (or, maybe I'm being melodramatic) (it wasn't hellacious) (but picking up goat poop 24/7 when you're supposed to be at SUMMER CAMP isn't my idea of fun) and the gas station seemed really far away and then I started to think that maybe I should call Triple A, so I opened up my phone, and then, suddenly, (I KID YOU NOT), my phone was dewad. It was just...dewad. (The battery, natch.) So Triple A was out of the question--I was gonna have to go at this one alone.
So I got to the gas station and told the gas station attendant dude about my situation and he really couldn't have been a nicer gas station attendant dude, he totally loaned me a red gas container thing, which I filled up with gas, but he didn't have a top for the red gas container thing, so then I had to walk back to my car about TEN BLOCKS with this red gas container thing filled to the brim with gas, the whole time totally paranoid that I would be hit by a car and then accidentally doused in all of this gasoline and suddenly explode into flames (hey, my imagination gets the best of me sometimes) (or maybe I should say "my neuroses" rather than "my imagination" but whatever) and then I finally got to my car and poured the two dollars worth of gasoline into my poor little rental's gas hole and drove back to the gas station where the gas attendant dude was very happy to get his red gas container back (I don't think he really expected to ever see me again) and then I filled her up and made my way over here to this coffeeshop where I now live to tell the story of The Day I Totally Freaking Ran Out of Gas on Sunset Blvd. During Rush Hour Traffic.