So for those of you who have never spent a long, fun-filled day of running errands with me, you have no idea that I actually have no coping skills whatsoever.  You’d think I’m a spoiled brat, completely used to getting her own way all the time.  This is untrue.  I’m the middle of three children who were raised in a middle middle-class family who never EVER had shit handed to them.  We earned everything.  Unlike my yuppie cousins.  Fuckers.  Anyway, the point here is:  I’m no princess.  However, in recent months (well, the last year or so), I have discovered something rather startling:  God hates me.  This is evident in everything I do.  For some reason, my awkward adolescent years (before I became the buxom bombshell I am now) spent friendless, fat and otherwise unattractive, weren’t considered punishment enough.  The fact that I finally managed to grow out of that phase (which only lasted like 11 years… age 8 through age 19) is apparently a fucking thorn in God’s side or something.  The following is a completely unfictionalized account of my goddamn life.  EXHIBIT A!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

1. My Fucking Car Got Towed
   
   The evening of July 12, Amazing Ben and I parked our car directly across the street from our apartment.  The next night, we left our apartment to drive to our softball game (Team Unforgiven, even though we kind of sucked, I still love you guys… even though you rolled over and played dead in our last play-off game and I couldn’t force you to win by my sheer will alone… I still hold you all dear to my heart. Just… don’t… go…. to…. sleep….) Anyway, we discover that the fucking car is MISSING.  Where the car was once parked, there is now only a gaping empty space.  Oh- and tow zone signs that weren’t there 24 hours prior.  We rather quickly surmised the car had been towed (Florida’s tax dollars hard at work- we’re both graduates of a fine public university in sunny Florida).  I’m completely psychotically pissed off at this point.  'Mazin’ B decides it’s a good idea to let me talk to the cops.  Heh.  So I call the fucking Brighton Police Department and wind up with some evil bitchy woman cop.  She tells me that my car wasn’t stolen, it was towed.  And it was towed legally.  She gives me the phone number of some other fucking police functionary who will confirm my car being towed.  I call it and it rings for like 10 minutes straight.  I call the bitchy cop back and tell her no one answers the phone… is she sure they’re still open?  She replies that I need to give it a minute because they’re incredibly busy.  But it was the asshole tone in her voice.  It set me off.  I snap, “I’m sure they are busy if they’re RANDOMLY TOWING PEOPLE’S CARS FOR NO REASON!”  Bitchy cop flips out on me and starts screaming at me not to “get bent at her” and She’s not the one who towed my car, blah blah blah.  When I finally get through to the other people, they tell me I’m going to have to go down to the Brighton Police Department and get a claim ticket for my stupid car.  We walk down there and I’m trying not to be a homicidal maniac.  Once we finally get there, we discover the only person working is (you guessed it) Sergeant Cunt-Rag.  She figures out real fucking fast who we are and she refuses to answer any of our questions.  She’s completely taciturn and surly.  I’m completely calm over this and ready to just let it go.  Whatever.  Finally, she gives us our fucking claim ticket and a copy of the police report.  As we’re walking out the door, Officer Whore-Bucket says, “Oh and Andrea- here’s a little tip for you, don’t call me up and yell at me and then come down here and ask me for a favor.  It’s poor form.”  I completely lost it then.  I turned back to her and was like, “I’m sorry. I don’t recall asking you for any favors.  I asked you to do your fucking job and if that’s too much to ask, I apologize.”  I stormed out, Ben in tow.  Once we got outside, I went apeshit on Ben.  Then I busted back into the precinct, causing Ben many ulcers, as he tries to figure out how to post bail after I murder a cop.  I finally get the bitch police officer to give me her name so I can file a formal complaint against her and her fucking attitude problem, which may or may not be a separate entity.  It was all I could do to not scream, “You’re not a cop, you’re a woman” and grab her by the fucking throat.  Seriously, I’m pretty sure if she saw me in a darkened alley, she’d probably rape me with a broom handle and slash my throat or something.  Evil bitch.
   
   
   
   
2. Wednesday Was A Good Day, So Thursday Completely Blew
   
   Ben and I took Wednesday off (actually, to go to traffic court to appeal the above tow).  We had a really great day.  We won our appeal and had our $55 parking ticket waived and our $130 tow refunded.  It rocked my pants off.  Then we went to go see this place for the stupid fucking wedding.  Great location, decent price.  We’re happy people.  Popped over to the grocery store, picked up some odds and ends and never had to see a single coworker (my office is directly behind the grocery store).  Got to hang out and rest all afternoon and evening, just the two of us.  It was really rather pleasant.  Well fuck that.  Andrea’s not allowed to have a good day.  God doesn’t like that shit.  Fucking Thursday even started out shitty.  I was a half-hour late to work and I couldn’t squeeze my lardass into one of my favorite pairs on pants, thereby causing me to cry and throw shit.  My boss is on vacation, which is awesome.  However, it means that I have no buffer between me and my psychotic Belgian midget coworker, who fucking thinks she’s my boss.  She spent all fucking day harping on me about god knows what.  I hate this chick.  I fantasize about shoving pencils into her eyes, breaking her infernal fucking fan (it’s FREEZING in my office all the time and yet this whackjob feels like she has to keep her motherfucking oscillating fan running all the time) and mailing her the pieces, then stapling things to her head.  Then I went to lunch with Ben to open a joint savings account so we can pay for the stupid wedding.  We wait on line for roughly 7 years.  The only fucking person in the building who is qualified to open an account for us is some small Chinese woman whose English is appalling.  And she talks at an inaudible volume.  God help me.  Like another 6 hours later, our fucking account in finally open.  Then we’re forced to eat lunch in the student union food court because I have to get back to my shitty office and my shitty job.  Students make my ass pucker.  Seriously.  I hate them.  I leave work an hour early and stand in a 59-degree fucking monsoon.  The wind is blowing at like 30-45mph and driving rain.  It’s freezing.  Totally disgusting.  The back of my skirt is freezing cold and soaking wet.  Nevertheless, I decide to sit down on the train (after it finally comes… 15 minutes later).  My skirt is soaked, which soaks through to the underwear, which becomes cold, wet and stuck to my ass.  Lovely.  To top it all off, our fucking TV broke last night.  The Red Sox are going into their final series of the season against the Yankees, starting Friday (tonight) and our fucking TV breaks.  I can’t afford to replace the insipid thing.  Maybe if I don’t pay my student loan this month….
   
   
3. I Am Eternally Broke
   
   This is a family curse.  It’s what we do.  My parents have been broke my whole life.  I guess it’s not fair for me to want more.  I work two fucking jobs.  And I STILL have no money.  And my stupid car needs like $500 worth of work every month or two.  I make just enough money to live on.  I don’t have an exorbitant lifestyle… our TV is a 10-year old hand-me-down.  And we only own one.  I bought the cheapest laptop I could find.  We bought a 6-year old used car.  All of our furniture is off craigslist.  My fucking WEDDING DRESS is off craigslist.  Our heat and hot water arte included in our rent.  We do have cable and high-speed internet.  I don’t have a cell phone.  (Well I do, but the university pays for it) I don’t own a lot of high-tech toys.  Seriously, where is all my money?  Student loans, credit card debt (like every time the fucking car breaks), and other random stuff like that.  Car insurance, gas, blah blah blah.  I hate it.  Being broke can lick my ass.  Have I mentioned that my job sucks?
   
   
4. My Job Sucks
   
   I know you’re thinking your job sucks too, and this isn’t necessarily a sign that God hates me.  Oh, but it is, my friend.  Up until June of this year, I had an okay job at the university.  I was involved with a major construction project.  I loved my boss.  I had cool coworkers, etc.  Construction was completed.  My boss was given a huge promotion and moved to the other campus.  I was moved to another office, working for my now ex-boss’ boss.  I hate this guy.  With the realness.  My job description is basically to sit here and answer phones and to schedule meetings for him.  Seriously.  Are you fucking kidding me with this?  Then, my assbag boss makes comments all the time, like the time he wondered aloud who I would shoot if I were given a loaded gun.  Oh, and the time he told me I suck.  Finally, I went to HR about it.  They basically told me it’s my problem.  I hate it here.  I would blow the fucking place up if I could.  With my boss and my Belgian coworker in it.  She just walked in here and complained that she didn’t understand this news article in the student paper… the Greek system had lost its charter or something and she didn’t understand how the university could separate different nationalities into different houses.  She didn’t know that you had to be a certain nationality to get to live in a specific house on campus.  This woman is 62 years old.  WTF??  I had to explain that frats and sororities are called the Greek system because they’re named after Greek letters and it has nothing to do with nationality or ethnicity.  Do you fucking SEE what I mean???  This place is sucking my will to live.  What did I do to deserve this?
   
   
   
   
5. My Freaking TV Imploded
   
   So we’re watching the Red Sox game last night.  The EVIL EMPIRE New York Yankees are 1 game ahead of the Sox in the AL East.  We’re playing Toronto.  We’re behind.  Suddenly, just as the game is about to get really interesting, the unthinkable happened.  Our shitty hand-me-down ten-year-old TV set flashed blue and then died.  What in God’s holy hell am I going to do now???  So Ben and I run to the bedroom and turn on the annoying radio announcer on WEEI.  I feel like I’m on Quaaludes when I listen to him.  He’s always like, “Fastball, curveball, slider, cut fastball, ham sandwich, bravo niner, Courtney Cox is hot, bark bark bark!”  I have no idea what he’s talking about half the time.  And I have not the benefit of watching the game and making sense of it myself.  I’m pretty smart.  And I know a lot about baseball.  So for me to not be able to understand what the shit he’s talking about is actually substantial.  Ask Ben. I wanted to get married in Fenway Park.  I’m not a total girl.  Anyway, back to our shitty TV.  I guess I shouldn’t complain too much since we got it for free, but goddamn it.  We knew it was on its way out because about a month or two ago, it stopped wanting to run cable.  Ben had to ghetto-rig some McGyver-esque thing where the cable ran through this box-thing and then some A/V cables or something went into the TV instead of a cable-tv cable thing.  I don’t know.  I can fix anything that isn’t electronic.  I leave him the high-tech shit.  He can’t hammer a nail, so it works out.  But I digress.  Where the holy living god am I supposed to shit out $160 for a new TV?  Fuck me.  Rent has to get paid and I still only have about 6% of the total budget for the wedding actually saved up.  I mean, Christ on a cracker…. What the fuck?  GOD HATES ME.
   

Clearly, I have pissed off some deity.  Maybe if I actually take Ben’s name when we get married, I can somehow avoid the remaining shit-storms god’s got planned for me.  But I somehow doubt that.  Other shitty things that have gone wrong in the last week:

• I actually hit something with the car the other day that fucked up the passenger side door just enough that it wouldn’t open.  Oh- I did this while on my way to beg for a copy of my towing claim ticket from the towing company so I could win my case in traffic court.  Oh- and my mechanic doesn’t do body work.  But one of the mechanics was nice enough to come outside with a crowbar and a rag and pop the panel out for no charge.  Now it’s just fucked up looking.  But the door opens.  And no one is allowed to speak of the incident ever again.
  
  
• My only cousin I give a rat’s ass about is dodging my calls for some unknown reason.  I think she’s just being flaky, but I couldn’t swear to that.
  
  
• I got a talking-to from both of my bosses this week.
  
  
• My weird Belgian co-worker keeps trying to boss me around.
  
  
• My freezing cold underwear was STUCK TO MY BUTT yesterday.  I know I already talked about this, but it was so disturbing, I felt it needed to be mentioned again.
  
  
• I’m catching the cold that has Amazing Ben out of work for a week.  My freaking face hurts and I’m now going to have to go home and smother him with a pillow in his sleep.

Ugh.  I’m too depressed and angry to finish this.  I hope you all have a motherfucking pleasant weekend, while I continue to shit bluebirds and sunshine.  Eat my ass.