Saturday, December 26, 2009

A Fender-Bendered, Dirty Jelly Ringed, Highly Unusual Christmas.

December 23rd, 2009.
"Hey ma, can I take your car out tonight? Frankie's home from Michigan and he's having a few of the guys over."
"Sure, don't be home too late. We have a busy day tomorrow; and you still have to clean your room."

The holidays are great, usually. Christmas Eve's eve (Frankie's house) was great, until a white Chevy Tahoe slammed into my mom's car unexpectedly, causing a whirlwind of events to spiral out of proportion.

If only the Caucasian male who resembled Paul Wall and spoke like a Joisy Shore-ian actually stuck around for the punch and pie of another accident prone Phil and Mike adventure, none of this would have happened. But hey, shit happens, unfortunately.

December 24th, 2009. Early morning, pre wake-up.
"Phil, did you hit something with my car last night?"
"No mom, I have no idea what you are talking about." Back to sleep.

Shit, why did I lie? Well I guess I didn't lie, hence the fact that I myself never actually hit anything with that oh-so-suave 2001 Hyundai Elantra; GT none-the-less. 176,863 miles strong.

December 24th, 2009. Post wake-up, pre jelly ring throw.
"Okay mom, I'm sorry I didn't tell you before but someone hit your car last night. It was a hit and run and I didn't want to ruin your Christmas Eve."
"It's okay. Just tell the truth next time; we brought you up to always be honest, even at the worst times."

My father was livid, as usual, at one of the most unusual things. Can't blame him, I mean the damage done to the car was so horrible that it looked like a bird pooped in the wrong place.

Estimated cost of damages: approximately $158.06; labor included. Some damage huh?

December 24th, 2009. Approximately 8:24pm.
Still wondering why I'm eating dinner on my couch, instead of at the table with the rest of my family.

Little cousin Gianna blames me for taking her Cinderella doll. In turn she runs upstairs, crying, and I get a dirty look from everyone at the highly drunk annual Forte Christmas dinner table. Shake my head and walk back downstairs.

December 25th, 2009.
"Thanks for the new TV mom and dad."

About 47 minutes later, the Jelly Rings and Marshmallow Twists start flying.
"It's been two (expletive) days and this guy still hasn't been locked up. I'm the bad guy now...blah blah blah. I want your mothers car fixed and I want it fixed now. I'm always the one getting jerked around. I'm done waiting (even on Christmas, quite possibly the most popular holiday to have off from work) for this shit to get settled. Go file a police report."

"Shit happens," said Officer D-e-r(something). "Don't file a police report with missing information, especially if you have someone working on the case for you. Tell your father to call me if he has any questions."

Note to self: doing what your father tells you to still irks him.

This year, Christmas taught me a lot. It taught me how to handle a hit and run accident incorrectly, how important Cinderella is to a 3 year old, and how catering a party at your own house has a ton of negatives. But it also taught me that Christmas will always be there for family and friends to gather, fight, love, and cherish one another, regardless if Paul Wall tries to spoil it; cheap-o.

December 26th, 2009. 4:36pm.
Still craving those Jelly Rings.

Happy Holidays everyone.

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