I still can't believe this actually happened.

I had a bit of an Incident this weekend.

Michael and I decided to go to RuSan's yesterday evening. We were seated at the booth next to three of the loudest, rudest, most pathetic examples of the Frat Boy Stereotype I have ever had the misfortune of encountering, and I went to Vanderbilt so you know that's saying something.

( How does that make you feel, Kelly? )

I am so fucking sick of this shit

Just got a call from my mechanic. My car has blown a gasket. Between that, the catalytic converter that needs replacing, and the rotors my father's mechanic fucked up, I'm looking at something like $1500 to fix it. Which is probably more than the damn car is worth. Which means I have to decide if I want to blow the money I can't afford on fixing the car and hoping to get another year or two out of it, or if I want to hock my soul to get another car.

Michael does not want me to call my parents because he figures they will just verbally berate me some more, but I don't see that I have a choice.

I don't really know what else to say about any of this.

EDIT: Michael was right. I shouldn't have called home. I hate my parents. Sure enough, just as he said, it became my fault for not taking care of the car. Never mind that the oil was changed on time and the real problems started after my father's mechanic, who is a fucking idiot, worked on it. I hate my parents.