The Cursed Intersection.

Status Report

Wearing: My “I Love Pussy” t-shirt. I do <3 pussy.

Feeling: Tired, sad, pissed, missing Hairbrush, and yet, mildly amused.

WinAmp is playing: Frantic – Metallica

Last ate: Chocolate cake. Before that, 99% of a Chi-Chi’s Endless Taco Salad of DOOM. Yummy.

Entry Start Time: 6:24 AM

Based on Esther’s “Senses”.

It has gotten me once before. The Cursed Intersection, that is. The last time was a night that will live in infamy. So many things happened. We met Jamal/Brandon. We did donuts in the school parking lot, drove on the track, and pissed on things. And. We were pulled over after passing through The Cursed Intersection. I had just made a right turn through The Cursed Intersection and was speeding up. The cop says I was doing 62 in a 45. Cheap. It’s Route 206. Kivudet says he was bullshitting. Regardless, I didn’t get a ticket.

The day that has just passed was Kivudet’s birthday. The action, so to speak, didn’t start until nightfall. General Disk Error came here in the Scotsmobile, with Kivudet and his girlfriend. …Conveniently right as Game 6 of the Stanley Cup Finals was going on. (I taped the game, just in case.) We all got in Mama Cherry (The Van) and got Grunge.

Chi-Chi’s. …We saw Jamal/Brandon. General Disk Error actually bought him a shot of rice and a World’s Smallest .. I can’t spell it. Whatever. *laughs* I had an Endless Taco Salad of DOOM, and finished most of it. Stuffed, we went to Cliff’s girlfriend’s mom’s house (damn, she needs a TimmyName) to have… cake. We got movies at Blockbuster, and head back to Cliff’s to get his DVD player, and drop Grunge off. (His parents are ANAL and won’t let him have HOTGAYSEX until the break of dawn.)

We were driving down 206. Major road, mind you. And the guy in front of me was doing… 35, I’d say. In a 45. So, I said “Fuck it, I’m not sitting behind him.” I was going to make a left turn. Through The Cursed Intersection. Just one problem with that: The left turn signal was red. I went anyway. NOBODY WAS COMING. Heh, I even came to a complete stop.

Completing the turn, we noticed a cop car sitting at the light. Quaint. Yup. I was pulled over. License, registration and insurance. Just one problem here: All the insurance cards I had were expired. Thanks a lot, Dad. I know he paid the insurance. At least, I was told he did. I had two cards which both expired March 2003. Great.

Two tickets. One for failing to obey traffic signals. Yes, I’ll take full responsibility for that. I BROKE THE LAW. OH NO. *laughs* I only obey just laws. I stop a plenty of intersections where there aren’t any stop signs. Why? Because I want to be safe. I also fly through some stop signs, if I can CLEARLY see that there’s no traffic coming. I’m not an idiot. I consider a stop sign to be a way to signify right of way. I was also hit for failing to show proper documentation. That isn’t my fault. Which begs the question: Where’s the insurance card? I guess I’ll find out in a few hours when I get up and tell this to my dad. I have a thingie in court at 3 PM.

We dropped Grunge off and got Kivudet’s PS2. I felt like shit, so we watched Sex Court first. General Disk Error claimed that Blockbuster sells porn. Just to spite me, he asked someone working there, if they selled “Tasteful porn.” Kivudet’s girl refuses to watch porn unless it’s “tasteful porn”. He told us to look in the drama section.

Sex Court was funny. Since it was actually rated R, it just had a lot of boobies and bare asses. Yummy. Just what I needed to get my mind off shit. Seeing guys suck on tits made me think of Hairbrush. I wanted nothing more than to just snuggle between her tits and squeeze her, with her hands holding my head. That would be… pure contentment. *sighs happily* We watched another movie about Jews. It had subtitles. Decent. Better than the other movie Kivudet’s girl picked out. That other one had lots of HOTGAYSEX. Seriously, every guy was gay, like BIGGAYDAN.

It was late by then. 4:30, I believe. General Disk Error split, in the Scotsmobile. I took Kivudet’s girl home. Then I drove Kivudet home. We passed through The Cursed Intersection. RIGHT AFTER passing through there, I noticed pressing down on the gas pedal was having less of an effect. “I think we’re running out of gas,” I announced to Kivudet. I slammed down on the accelerator, getting one last jolt out of Mama Cherry. Yup. Out of gas. I put my flashers on, pulled to the side of the road and rolled. I knew there was a gas station RIGHT AHEAD. We were able to roll right up to the pump. Only to notice the gas station was closed. Quaint.

So, we pushed Mama Cherry into a parking spot in a nearby shitty stripmall. We continued walking down 206. There’s a couple gas stations right in that area. We passed an Exxon. Closed. We walked farther. We thought Shell would be open. No deal. Right by the Shell, across the street, was a Mobil. Two arabs were outside. I was able to bridge the language barrier and communicate that I was out of gas, and needed a gas can. I gave him ten dollars, deposit. He gave me The Holy Gas Can, and a buck of gas.

We walked back to Mama Cherry, observing the rise in morning traffic, and how explosive it would be if I got hit by a car. Poured gas from The Holy Gas Can into Mama Cherry’s thirsty tank. Turned the key. Chugged. Chugged. She was trying, but she wasn’t turning over. Er. Or whatever it’s called, she wasn’t starting. I joked that the topper for the evening would have been if the battery was dead. I knew it wasn’t. If the battery was dead, it wouldn’t have chugged at all. I turned the key again, and kept it there. I mentally told Mama Cherry that she could do it. And finally, she started. Victory. Drove to the Mobil, gave The Holy Gas Can back, and filled her up.

New Jersey is the best place to run out of gas, I swear. At least around here, there’s gas stations EVERYWHERE.

And through this, I felt completely calm. Running out of the gas was the best thing to happen that night. It put a smile on my face. Oh, I should mention that my gas gauge has been broken since Spring Break. I’ve been using the trip odometer and the LOWFUELLIGHT to gauge when I need to get gas. Last time I got gas, I went 314 miles. Damn, I was very close to bone dry, then. This time, I was only able to go around 291 miles. : ( Oh, it’s a 14 gallon tank, for anybody curious.

Well, time to GOTO bed, and face the music in the morning. If only I could just GOTO Sex Court and be told that I need to see more boobs turning the day, so I’ll be more patient. *smiles* Or something corny like that. I could go for a nice wet dream filled with boobs. Pity I’ve never even had a wet dream…

Entry finished: 7:07 AM (Noted because OD is obviously down, so to speak.)