Wednesday, September 9, 2009

In My Bestselling Tell All Novel

Someday I'm going to write stupid pop lit novels like Chelsea Handler. I think I'm slightly less drunk and slightly less promiscuous, but what I lack in those areas my family makes up for.

Oh yes, the saga continues. Via e-mail.

My mom told me that my sister is trying to work things out with HER car, but that's going to prove to be bad news. My sister is having a baby and her current job is as a barista. Having that car would include continuing to pay if off - my parents are making her refinance in her name - and since my sister is (a) poor, (b) going to be poorer and (c) has terrible credit this is going to be costly. And/or they are requiring that she insure the car in her name under her own plan which will apparently cost $250 a month since my sister is (a) under the age of 25, (b) a driver with at least two accidents on her record, and (c) a driver with a DUII on her record.

My parents are helping to pay for the wedding, but then saying "FUCK YOU" to their second oldest daughter and almost ensuring that my sister will end up getting behind sooner or later. At no loss of money to them and at a complete gain in security for my sister, this car could be hers. But my mom, who called me petty for bringing up the issue of MY liability should my younger sister get in a wreck driving a car under my name, then preceded to list all of the things she should have charged me for.

Thanks, mom, I hope the value of the car was enough to make up for you having to raise me.

But, you know, it's ok. I have wonderful friends.

Last night there was a good show of good friends who made sure that I always had a drink in my hand and made sure the night was lively. We had drinks and appetizers at the Hangar and later Miss A, Mr. C and I went to Troxel's for some late night grub and then they dropped me back at the Alaskan where I had another drink. And then Miss K and I hit up the Rendezvous for one last shot before I headed back up the hill to sleep it all off.

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