Oh The Douchebaggery

That title has nothing to do with this blog, but I had an awful day and had to come home to smiley holly home-maker on my fucking t.v.

If I have said it once (and, yes, I know I have said it more than once), I need to get the heck
out of Rhode Island.

The day started out well enough.
I went to the Y, got my groove on via the elliptical machine...
went home, made a few phone calls.

My sister and my wonderful baby-angel nieces came over.

I got hungry and decided to hot-foot it over to my favorite sandwich place, Meeting St. Cafe.

I ran a few errands on the way while my cuisine was prepared.

I squeeze into the lot...and, Jesus H., guys, you know parking is do or die on Thayer...I avoid it at all costs.

But I needed me a Meeting St. Veggie, so I was prepared for hell.

Well, come hither, high water!

Some douchebag rammed my car while I was inside.
He totally T-boned it and took out my left side window.

Fucking-A!
My vehicle is my sole remaining source of commodity given the times.

I mean, when times get rough (and it has been mother-effin' rough lately) I can always look at my car and say, "Your blue book value is decent enough...Let's sell!"

Never no more, my friends.

My car has been haranguing me with it's absolute need for upkeep.
It seems all my major bills are somehow tied to Ms. Honda.

Fortunately (and I must give shout outs where shout outs are due) the owner of (my still fave sandwich shop) the Meeting St. Cafe offered to pay the damages.

Aaaah....the veggies taste that much sweeter.