Thursday, December 1, 2011

The Birthday Bashing

I have a tendency to be very dramatic when the situation does not call for it at all, and then not dramatic enough in times of crisis. 

Some examples:
When washing dishes:

When out of chocolate:

When hair comes out in the shower:

When the lights go out during a storm:

But, recently, I had an incident where I should have responded more dramatically, and I didn't.

At all.

It was my birthday.
It started out great!  My (at the time) boyfriend took me to the zoo!!
I was ecstatic.  We saw everything.  There was a Bengal tiger, a freaking jackal, seals and sea lions:

At one point, we wanted to see the "nighttime" animals, thinking that there may be bats.  We got very lost, searched some more, and found that we were right by them to begin with.
There were adorable things... but there were only three of them.  ...and no bats.
Also, there were little orange monkeys that were adorable and my boyfriend wanted to feed them but I was like, NO BITCH and he was like BUT DEY BE CUTE!
We got cotton candy, beverages, and a pretzel with cheese. 
I was very pleased.
Nobody got eaten. 

Then, we went to dinner with two of our friends.  I got a very tall glass of god-knows-what-alcoholic-something-with-strawberries.  There was a SHIT TON of crab, which was lovely, and way too much food in general.
My boyfriend commented on the rather large, goblet like glass he had for his beer.  Being my father's daughter, I asked the waiter if we could buy said glass.  It was only $8 for this rather hefty thing, so why not?  Especially since he paid the rest of the tab.
Then, we went to the store to get some fabric.  A day or two later, I used said fabric to make this:

He now has spines on his back as well.  The outer one is named "Fido" and the inner on is "Fred".  He's about 90 inches long, because I'm insane and have a problem.

EDIT: Look!  Spines!

Anyhoo!  On the drive back from the store, we were chatting.  I said, and I quote, "This has been, like, the perfect day!"

And then we got T-d. 

On my side.


My door was crushed.  I got smooshed.  We both had whiplash and hurt heads.  No blood or anything.  No concussion. 
My left thigh was pretty seriously bruised.  I was limping for a couple of days. 
What happened, really, was that Saabs are amazingly safe, so I didn't die.  However, my airbag punched me in the arm, sending me smashing into the center console.  So, with my seat belt on, I didn't go flying onto my boyfriend, but I still got pretty banged up. 

This is where I should have panicked, but I didn't.  You would think, "oh, what a wonderful life skill!", but no. 
What I mean is, since I got the wind knocked out of me, I wasn't really breathing well at first.  I sat there wheezing.  My boyfriend asked if I was okay.  In my head, I didn't think "Oh shit, I may have just been crushed in some way, since I'm having a hard time breathing..."  No.  I thought,

Quickly followed by, "oh no!  I have to save the left overs!!" 
I blame my mother for this.  I feel she responds to similar situations in similar ways. 
In fact, a few days later, my mother actually asked, "So, what happened to the left overs?"

...The answer is that my boyfriend had a *bit* more to think about than drippy bags of food. 

In any case, while that was all a bit shocking, it ended well for me. 

I got to ride in a fire truck.  Yeah.  Heated fire truck... which I thought was funny.
They took me home.  ...Well, they took me home after being a little too friendly for a bit:

I politely declined their offer of being a mascot.  Ever see Rescue Me?
Just like that. 

Later on, we went to a hospital, just in case.  They gave us pain pills and stuff to relax our muscles, but said we were fine beyond that.
We were put in separate rooms, which was reasonable, except for the snooty man saying "Before you ask, NO, you may NOT share a room!"  I half expected him to call us imbeciles or philistines.

When my bullshittery was done, I had three different people tell me what room my boyfriend was in, and to "Go to him!"  So, naturally, I figured he was going to die.  Here is where I panic for no reason.  I stayed calm, and it was both comical and horrifying to see him plopped on that hospital bed in nothing but a gown.  It was his demeanor that made it comical, really. 
He is a very chill dude.  I need that.
Anyway, we were both fine.

When I first got home (via fire fighters), Tiger looked at me, put his hands on my waist and asked "Does it hurt here?"  When I said no, he then picked me up.  I like that he checked first.  It was very cute.

At one point during this whole thing, a police officer took my information.  When he saw that it was my birthday, he very quietly asked, "It's... It's your birthday?"
He had a look on his face like the love of his life had just dumped him.
I wanted to give him a hug.
After a while of awkwardly pausing, he said, "Happy birthday?"

He and the car were clearly the real victims here.

EDIT:  Because more than one person has asked, yes.  Yes the goblet survived.  It was HEFTY and perfectly fine.  My now-ex has apparently spent the next year bitching about his shoulder being kinda funny, but we'll chalk it up to him being a delicate little flower at six foot whatever.  My hip is still wonky from time to time, but I suck it up and deal like a man.  UMPH.  

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