So I finally get out of work tonight, a mere half hour before close ... And my car? Won't start. At first I wasn't too bothered, I figured a jump would set it right (even though I hadn't left the lights on or anything). Oh, no. There's some connection somewhere that's screwed up.

It's actually my dad's car, so I called him to see if he could shed some light. Maybe he could have if he hadn't been drinking most of the night. Instead, he kept repeating himself and not understanding what I was telling him.

It's not like I'm stranded, I can get a ride home with a friend ... After the usual Friday night crew goes to the bar across the street for a drink. So now I'm sitting at a bar, which is never comfortable for me anyway, pissed off and just wanting to go home. So yes, I'm sitting at a bar typing a blog entry on my phone, because I don't want a drink and I can't hear my coworkers over the music anyway.

And then when I get home I have to make my house presentable because my dad will be picking me up in the morning--assuming he remembers tonight's conversation--to remedy this car situation. And I'm just not up for the lecture about my house being a mess and smelling like cats.

Maybe he'll forget and I can just stay home tomorrow. I don't feel like dealing with my family tomorrow, watching my aunt and cousin wait on the menfolk like slaves and listening to my aunt and grandmother nag my two cousins about when they're going to spawn.

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