So, I woke up on Tuesday when my mom came into my room during her lunch break (unfortunately not unusual) and asked me whether Dad had taken my car to work.

He had not.

Which begged the question, "where the hell is my car?"

Then she asked me where Jimmy was. Jimmy, my fifteen year old brother. As in, not old enough to have his driver's license.

That begged the question, "where the hell is my brother?"

Then Mom and I thought about those two questions for a bit. And wondered, "he can't really be that stupid, can he?"

As it turns out, yes, he can. Mom, who was incredibly sick of covering up every time Jimmy does something monumentally retarded, called Dad immediately. Dad called Jimmy, and yep, he was driving my car. Not only was he driving it, but he was driving it down a four lane, 50 mph, major state route in bad road conditions. So bad that school had been cancelled that day, which was why he was supposed to be at home.

Ahem. Yeah, he's grounded. I was so beyond pissed that the only thing that saved him from a bitchslap was the fact that he turned and sped away the minute he saw the look on my face. He also had the nerve to gripe about Mom for calling Dad right away, and I had to point out that we were worried about him. Yes, Mom was mad when she called Dad, but there were other concerns. We hadn't known whether Jimmy had really taken it, or if he'd simply gone over to a friend's and the car had been stolen coincidentally. Mom believed it was possible that Dad maybe had really taken it to work. And finally, if we were right and Jimmy had taken it, Mom and I were both scared shitless he'd kill himself in a car accident! Mom and Dad still tell me to drive carefully when the roads are bad, and I've had my license for seven years! Hell, they tell each other to drive carefully. Snowy roads are dangerous, no matter how good a driver you are, because even if you're the best goddamn driver in the world, you can't control other drivers. I couldn't breathe easily until he'd walked in the door. And I had orders to call Dad as soon as he got home safely, too.

I think Jimmy got Mom's forgiveness when he told her he hadn't thought that we might be scared for him. He got my forgiveness when he spent three hours in the freezing garage washing and waxing my car. He got Dad's forgiveness because Dad spent the rest of the day hearing stories from his coworkers about stupid things their kids had done. He didn't have to get Brian's forgiveness, because Brian thought it was hysterically funny, plus it gave him an amusing story to tell all his college friends.

It was a very exciting day, and not really in a good way. Little brothers are exhausting.

ETA: Holy frick! July 21! Why didn't I know sooner? YESSSSS!!!!11!!1eleventyone! I really need to go back to checking my flist every five minutes.
ikarit: (iharthdarth/ aye there's the nub)


( Oct. 11th, 2005 07:27 pm)
I'm really nauseous, but I can't tell if it's because I'm hungry or full.


In other news, I'm in withdrawal. I haven't seen my beautiful new baby (the car) in two days! Two long, horrid... long days! I miss it so. ♥ Earlier today, I had to fight the urge to go to the parking lot (a fifteen-minute task, at least) just to look at it again.

It's getting kind of pathetic, actually.
Dad surprised me this morning, and I've been on Cloud Nine ever since.

Mom and I went to the bank at 9am this morning, and then right to the eye doctor's after that. I now have money and glasses that do not slip down my nose. Win!

After we got home, Dad walked by my room at about 10:30 to tell me that he needed Mom and I to run an errand with him. Brian's car broke down last week, and he'd driven Mom's car back to school while she used our grandparents' suburban. Brian's car is fixed, so Dad needed to bring the suburban back, and he said we had to do something else first. He was very vague, but dismissive. He didn't explain why I needed to come along, and I didn't ask, only told him he was being very "mysterious." He found my word choice amusing, but I was just happy to spend time with my family after a nearly a month at school.

So we left for the errand, and if I wondered why we were driving so far, I didn't ask. I was curious, but Dad does these sort of "secret" things every once in a while, and I knew there was no way I could pry it out of him before he was ready to tell. Besides, Mom and Jim were along too, and they weren't asking either. Mostly I just stared out the window because I like Ohio countryside.

We pulled into a nearby town, and I was interested to see the buildings. The town has this huge insurance agency in a beautiful old mansion. It's a nice showpiece for the town, and I always love to see it. So were talking about that, and then all of a sudden, Dad says, "Jennie, I guess I could tell you where we're going now."

That was a bit of a surprise. Not that he was telling, but that he was addressing me specifically. That implied the mysterious errand we were on was for me.

It was.

"Jennie," he said, "I got two new cars for you and Brian."

He kept talking, giving what was probably pertinent information, but I was still stuck on his new sentence. Couldn't figure out if he was serious or not. I mean, two new cars? A new car for me? I wanted a new car more than anything, mine's old and rickety and rusty, but... I knew I would never be able to afford to buy one. So I was in shock, Dad was prattling on and we pulled into a car dealership.

Well, it wasn't a joke. He bought two 2005 Chevy Cavaliers, one red and one blue. I've got the red one, and I've been driving it all day. I'm still in shock... apparently everyone knew but me. Even if some people didn't know Dad had already bought them, they knew that he was looking. Even Brian knew. Half the neighborhood knew. And no one... no one told me. No one even let on to it! No side grins, no whispering, just... normal. They acted completely NORMAL.

Dad's happy, too. Because he loves to surprise people with gifts, and he's always horribly disappointed if they don't react well enough. I... reacted well enough. I'm still reacting well enough. At random moments, I will start squealing out of nowhere because it hits me all over again. I bounced over half the car lot, hugged my parents like mad, drooled all over the cars, squealed until everyone went deaf, bragged to every single person I've seen since then... yeah, Dad was satisfied with my reaction, all right.

They even put a little bow on the hood of the car for me. :D And I got to pick which color car, because Brian didn't care.

Okay, squealing moment coming on. OH MY GOD, I HAVE A NEW CAR, A NEW CAR!!!!! OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD! Yes, Ilana, I swear you will get pictures. Sometime. I really need a digital camera...

Well. In case anyone is wondering, the second I set sight on my beautiful new car, I forgave Dad any wrong he'd ever done me. Including the graduation day incident that I've tried my best to forget, but about which I sometimes still have flashbacks and nightmares.

ETA: Oh, forgot to explain WHY he got the cars. Apparently, ever since Brian and I went away to school, Dad has been worried sick out of his mind because our cars aren't exactly ideal for highways. Mine's twelve years old, and while good, things do eventually wear out. And Brian's, obviously, breaks down a lot. Mom said if he worried much more, he'd end up in the hospital. It might seem like she was being hyperbolic, and she might have been, but I doubt it. Dad has a lot of high blood pressure and cholesterol problems, and stress is not good for him. I guess Brian's car muffler falling off during his four hour drive to school last week was the last straw, because when he drove down to pick up the car, he told Brian he was getting a new one.
ikarit: (kate/ it's a good year for a murder)
( Sep. 10th, 2005 10:25 am)
I do not care WHO THE FUCK YOU ARE, but whatever stupid little shits thought it'd be brilliant to throw mustard, flour, egg and tiny cut-up squares of paper all over our yard and my car NEEDS A GOOD PUNCH IN THE FACE.

Not because of the mustard, flour, egg and paper, but because they used it to write DIE JIMMY on my car.

I swear to god, if I ever find out who did it, I will be paying a visit to their goddamned house and there will be slapping and screaming.


ikarit: (Default)


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