(no subject)

So. Busted up my van, sort of. I'm blaming it on the stupid sporty chick in the SUV that parked next to me. Unfortunately, when it comes down to the damages, they're all on me--it was her fault, but I did the actual damaging. The bitch pulls in to the spot next to me as I'm trying to pull out of this one at a weird angle at the very end of the parking lot (all but impossible to get out of on one try backing up, even if you're in a car and not this full sized van) and she's so close to me that you literally couldn't open the passenger door. Not even just not wide enough to get out; she was maybe 3 inches max from me, way over the line. I'm halfway pulled out, but need to pull back in and re-angle because it's the odd edge spot, but can't because now she's there (I gave her the nastiest look, LOL, and she just sort of shrugged), and it's either scrape the fuck out of my car on the parking lot sign or scrape the fuck out of my car on her car and then have to pay for her car. There was no way I was getting out of there without scraping something, no possibility at all, and since I was halfway out, it's not like I could just stay there and wait for her to leave (as while I was agonizing over what to do, she'd speedily jumped out and left, so I couldn't make her move her car so I could get out). Add to that that it was dark and wet and gross, so considering the circumstances, I succeeded pretty well at trying to minimize the damage, but there's a pretty deep scrape all down the driver's side, as well as the side headlight is completely gone, both cover and light (which is amusing, considering last time I went home, I spent 2 hours out in the cold getting the inside front headlight repaired).

I was unbelievably pissed all through exercising after I got out and saw what the damage actually was. In that "Oh, shit. What am I going to do?", internalizing it into depression sort of way. No fun. But then I was like "Torchwood yay" because bleakone and I watched an episode down in late night dining and I got engrossed in that and my chicken salad (that is not sitting well, though that's probably more due to the fact that it just now sort of hit me that I've got a final in less than 12 hours that I've not yet begun to study for) and forgot, which is good. But the father is going to be uber pissed.

Reading tons of CJ/Abbey fics all of a sudden (mostly because I started playing with a CJ/Donna Christmas fic and wanted to get into the voices and absent having episodes to watch, went to read fic; unfortunately in this circumstance, there's much more CJ/Abbey than CJ/Donna) and I got drawn in to Cj's excellent, but unfinished (!!hate!--I was so engrossed!) Repetition series.

( Review. This cut is purely so I can possibly link to this later without making people read through my car woes before or my suitemate woes later, but whatever. )

And now, on another note, I was just trying to get this typed up (the car story; the fic rec was an inadvertent sidetrack caused by my trying to pick out an icon to use for the post, seeing my CJ/Abbey one, and going "Ooh, that was a great fic") so I could hop into the shower and either go to bed to get up and study in the morning or study some and then go to bed, but now I think people are hanging out in our suite area. And it's quite awkward to go in and take a shower when there are even my suitemates around, much less in the suite area, much less with people (including guys) I don't know in there.

Except now, as I kept typing up the review, they're gone. But the others are getting ready for bed, so I've got to wait a bit longer. Fail, timing.

(no subject)

I was totally planning on watching the football game this evening. Instead? CSPAN and Laura Bush giving a tour of the White House. As research for my never-to-be-finished West Wing fic.

Laura says that she and George sleep in the traditional Presidents' bedroom, the same that her in-laws slept in when HW was president. I have no problem with the prospect of my parents having sex. But could you imagine having sex in not only the same bedroom, but the same bed that your husband's parents did? Idk. That's what jumped into my head, LOL.