Dashing For the Tow

Or, Five Pointless Calls, Four Hours Waiting, Three Women Panicking, Two Tow Trucks Fighting, and a Bribe of Twentyyyy! (Rae and I couldn’t decide which to go with, but I liked hers better so that’s the title post).
Hello, friends.
I’ve got a bit of a tale for you this holiday season.
As you may or may not have guessed from the time stamps on most of my blog posts, I’m something of a night owl. I prefer to do my writing– and especially my reading– during the night. I’ve been that way as long as I can remember, and it has oft gotten me into trouble.

Sorry not sorry. Except you, Professor Karjala, since I slept pretty much every single morning in your 9am government class no matter how hard I tried, and you were the best and never called me on it…even when I snored.

Also as you may or may not know, I am unemployed. Since graduating in April, I have applied to six different jobs, and so far have not received a single call back. This fact, while extremely hard on my pocketbook (and Christmas shopping, sorry if your gift sucks this year–if you even get one), has led to the most self-indulgent reading period of my life. I can stay up however late I like with essentially no repercussions, unless there’s one of those very rare occasions where I need to do something somewhat early the next day. But those days have been very few and far between. Mostly I’ve been wallowing in reading all night and sleeping late the next day.
So, on the morning of Saturday, December 7, 2013 at 9:16am when I heard the angelic voice of Mariah Carey seemingly screaming from my mom’s purse those immortal words “I DON’T WANT A LOT FOR CHRISTMAS, THERE IS JUST ONE THING I NEEEEEEED!!!!!!!!” two, perhaps unsurprising, things were true:
A) I had only been asleep for about two hours, and;
B) The only thing I needed for Christmas at that point was for Mariah to shut her damn mouth and let me sleep

Preach it, Grumpy.

Mere seconds after Mariah finally made my wish come true, unfortunately my phone began vibrating angrily, and I hazily staggered to answer it. Bewildered, I saw that my sister was calling. If she is calling me to make me walk into her room, I thought to myself, I will go in there and bludgeon her unto death with this very phone. And before I answered I stumbled into her bedroom, where I had previously believed her to be tucked up in her bed all fast asleep. But what to my wondering eye should appear but an empty bed, with no sign of Rachel near.
Utterly mystified, and still essentially asleep, I answered my phone, which was now buzzing threateningly. All I got out was a confused hello before my sister informed me that she had wrecked her car and needed us to come pick her up from her meeting at work and we were going to have to find a way to tow said car.
I’ll be honest, Readers. I actually pulled my phone away from ear and stared at it for a few seconds, like it would disappear before my very eyes and this would all suddenly dissolve into a nightmare. My sister was telling me, not only would I have to wake up to answer this call, but I would have to stay awake, dress myself, and then drive to pick her up.

It’s not, is it? This is a joke. A terrible, not funny joke, but it’s a joke, right.

You may not know this about me, but I kind of love sleep. Like… I consider myself to be in a committed relationship with sleep. No, it may not be during the regular hours people usually expect me to sleep, but true love does not concern itself with conventions. Sleep and I are blissfully happy together, spending hours and hours with each other on our own terms.

Yes, I am that girl who never wants to do anything because I’m too dedicated to my significant other… sleeping.

Guys, do you get how meta this is?! Because, like, by giving itself to me, sleep is fulfilling its love for me… my sister clearly didn’t get this memo.

Now, perhaps I should have mentioned a little background here. Just in case you were living under a rock (a tropical rock) or, you know, in Florida, much of the US was in the grip of an enormous winter storm for a couple of weeks, Oklahoma included.

Touche, Florida. Touche. You might almost say they were too hot to PANhandle. Get it? GET IT?! HAHAHAHAHA (please send help)

My sister, who my tired brain finally processed had gone to a meeting at the restaurant where she works, had apparently hit a patch of ice while trying to go around one of those little curve roads that go under the interstate and put you around on the access road on the opposite side, and ramped her car up onto the concrete divider area and almost ran into the cross street. Luckily, the car got stuck on the concrete and stopped before that happened, or this post could have been not very funny at all. Most important of all, my sister was not hurt in any way– but her poor car was. Some nice people had stopped to try and help her push the car off the concrete, but before they got it very far they told her that it looked like it was too damaged to drive anywhere, and so they just gave her a ride to her work, which was perhaps two minutes away. The back end of her car was still already hanging out into the road, and Rae was terrified someone would do the same thing as her and crash into it.
Amongst this beleaguering onslaught of information, I also came to understand that someone was going to have to drive up and retrieve my sister, and wait with her while a tow truck came for her car. After informing me that we needed to be there to pick her up from her meeting by 10:15, my sister hung up on my stunned person.
There was only one solution– Mom. Normally anything relating to cars in our family is handled by our father, but my poor daddy had been called in this particular Saturday to work overtime (he’s a mailman) and there was not the slightest possibility that he could deal with this particular mess. But there was another adult in this house, and she could totally drive– I was saved.
So with this shining exit strategy of promise burning brightly in my mind, I blundered into my mom’s room and told her what happened (probably rather incoherently). But what I did manage to say very clearly was that she needed to go get Rachel, leaving me ready to stumble back to bed, my problems solved. Unfortunately for my state of mind, my mother soon made it clear that she had only had a few hours of sleep, and that I was most certainly coming with her, if only to ensure she didn’t fall asleep on the way up there and wreck herself.
I tried, Readers. I tried so very hard to find a way around this. I utilized every ounce of mental acumen that was available to my fuzzy, sleep-deprived mind–but it was not enough, and my struggles were in vain. This was really happening, and I was really going to have to get ready, get dressed, and go with my mom.

So you’re saying it’s not a joke then.

Somehow, somehow, I managed to make myself presentable to the world (I think–details are a little hazy), though I dozed off brushing my teeth and when I laid back on the bed to put my pants on I fell asleep for a minute and didn’t think I was going to be physically capable of getting up. Finally my mother and I managed to cobble ourselves into something resembling functioning members of humanity. But you’re fooling yourself if you think I got into that car without my blanket and pillow. We were on our way–and it was 10:15. The time we were supposed to be picking Rae up. I thought about mentioning this to my mom, but were twenty minutes away and nothing was going to change that. Plus, I literally could not bring myself to care.
Luckily Rachel’s meeting went long, and we picked her up on time. Then we pulled into a gas station next to where Rachel’s poor car sat, like a beached whale upon concrete sands. Let me go ahead and give you this expertly prepared, very accurate, official map of what this all looked like, so you can really get a sense of the story:

Because I am an artist and a professional (Seriously, this took me like thirty minutes).

Because I am an artist and a professional (Seriously, this took me like thirty minutes to freaking make).

Luckily we have AAA, and we were close enough to our house that they would tow Rae’s car for free. So we called the number on our card and were then informed that it would be four hours until one of their drivers could get to us. FOUR HOURS. FOOOOUR HOOOOOOURS.
My sister explained how her car was in a very dangerous place and we feared there would be another accident if we waited that long, and so eventually the AAA person told us that we could contact another towing company to do the job and they would reimburse us. With that settled we googled towing services near our location and found five or six names that would work. Five calls later, and not a single one of the nearby towing place could send a truck any sooner than an hour, most of them closer to two. We called my uncle, who told us about a tower in our  actual town, which might not be as busy and which would make it much more convenient for him to tow back to. So we called the guy, who was very kind and told us he could be there in 45 minutes. Perfect!
This settled, we decided to drive to the Starbucks in the shopping center across the street, but abandoned this plan halfway to it when we realized that no one had actually wanted coffee, we just thought that the other person had. We turn around and start driving back towards the gas station, when we realize a cop has stopped at my sister’s car. We panic suddenly, but cannot get over to the gas station in order to flag him down, because we need to cross four lanes of traffic to get to it. Frantically we try to find a gap in the extremely busy intersection, but are unable to. We aren’t sure what the cop is doing, and by the time we finally get over to the gas station and Rachel gets out of the car to walk across the street to the area where her car is at, the cop drives away.  We’re now afraid that the cop has written down her license number to possibly call someone to impound her car or who knows what. Shortly after this, the guy from our town calls to tell us that he’s having problems with his truck and he actually can’t come at all.

The guy apologizes profusely, and recommends that we contact the local highway patrol (Fun fact: the number to call them is *55, did you know that? Because we did not know that). Rachel calls back the towing service that had the least amount of time, and for once during this developing debacle luck is on our side, and they tell us that they had a truck just come back and they would send them out immediately, and it would probably be no more than twenty to thirty minutes.
Next, we call the highway patrol and explain the situation, and shortly after a nice policeman arrives and parks his car behind Rachel’s with his lights on, so no one will hit her. Then we settle in for a long winter’s wait, which is interspersed with employees from the gas station coming out and shooting us suspicious looks since we’ve essentially been camping in their parking lot.


It’s the po-po!!!

Now, if you follow college football in America, you might be familiar with two of the major teams in Oklahoma, the University of Oklahoma Sooners and the Oklahoma State University Cowboys. As you might guess (or know), there is something of a rivalry between these two teams, and when they play it’s known as Bedlam because things can get just a tad bit crazy. Well, it just so happens that December 7, 2013, was the date of Bedlam. And in all the madness, we had forgotten the game was even on–not that we could have watched. But we were able to occupy ourselves during this time at least by listening to the radio broadcast (BOOMER SOONER SUCKAS).
Suddenly, Rachel’s phone rings again; AAA was calling. And do you know what they had to tell us? One of their drivers would be arriving to tow our car in about three minutes.
As Rachel is on the phone receiving this news, into our sight drives the tow truck driver from the other place we called. He drives through the parking lot we’re sitting in, in fact, headed straight for our car. In a sudden frenzy of confusion, my sister starts asking what we’re supposed to do, and my mom–who was trying to call the non-AAA tow truck to cancel– hangs up. The AAA lady tells my sister that if we use this tow truck now, they probably won’t be able to reimburse us and we need to wait for their tow truck. Just as my sister is relaying this to us, the non-AAA tow truck pulls up to the exit to cross the street and begin to hook my sister’s car up.
Suddenly my mother, in an Olympian feat of athleticism, springs out of the car and begins sprint-hopping her way across the icy, slushy parking lot in furry snow boots, waving her arms and shouting, in an attempt to flag him down. Simultaneously my sister and I feel our jaws drop as she races over to it and begins banging on the sides of the back of the truck to try and stop him. He is immune to her cries, however, and pulls over behind the police officer, who proceeds to back his car up and block off the curve ramp. My mom, in a continuing stunning display, goes darting through traffic like a figure skater in the winter Olympics, and begins gesturing and talking to both the police officer and the tow truck.
And suddenly into this bizarre, incredible scene, the AAA approved tow truck comes bursting in like an avenging angel, cutting off the other tow truck and backing up to my sister’s car with complete disregard to the one-way nature of the road,  and then proceeds to load it onto his tow truck without speaking a word to anyone.


Throughout this entire exchange, I am trying harder than I have ever tried to sink into my chair and let it swallow me whole in order to deliver myself from this embarrassment. I am now grateful that I brought my pillow, because I am able to use it to bury my face in. My sister is in the back seat just murmuring expressions of disbelief. We are actually witnessing a tow truck standoff.

Us: "Is this happening? This can't be happening."

Us: “Is this happening? This can’t be happening.”

Let me give you a hint– this was, in fact, happening. In less than five minutes, Rachel’s car was loaded onto the second tow truck, and my mom directs him to pull in over by where Rachel and I were slowly, agonizingly dying of embarrassment.
She then goes over to explain the situation to the policeman (yep, he was still there) and the first tow truck driver, before hurrying back over to the car. We, of course, don’t actually have any idea what is going on at the time, and my mom opens the door but only briefly to pull a twenty out of her purse and mumble something about paying the other driver for his time. It’s then that I realize…. “Rachel… is she… is she bribing him?!”
That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. My mother bribed a tow truck driver.
Finally she comes back after the policeman and the first tow truck driver drive away, and goes to speak with the AAA driver. After extensive conversation, she gets back in the car, but before we can say anything she starts telling us how the AAA driver was freaking out and in such a huge hurry because, quote “I’m not even supposed to be over here, this is another towing company’s territory! I have to hurry because I’m not supposed to be in this area!”

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. My mother bribing someone was not even the strangest part of the day. Oh no. Instead, it was the revelation that apparently towing truck companies are gangs.


We didn’t witness the equivalent of a tow truck standoff, folks, oh no. Instead, we witnessed a RUMBLE.
Really, the bribe was perfectly in character considering.
So we make our way home, and the tow truck that won the rumble deposits Rachel’s poor car in our driveway. Finally, we stumble into our house at about half past noon, I’m not sure if I was more dazed when I left or when I came back, and all I can think is……

You know, some people talk about how sometimes their lives feel like a movie. Well, guys, mine isn’t like a movie– my life is a farce.
So be careful out there this holiday season, Readers. You never know what kind of shady situation you might find yourself accidentally mixed up in.

Hello, My Name is Gustav Mustachio


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Ahhh-ahem. Cough cough cough. Meow. Testing, meow 1; testing, meow 2.
Please pardon me for all that. I forget you humans don’t speak Catish, and my English translation skills (just my typing skills, really) are a bit rusty.
Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Gustav Mustachio, and I am the latest triumph in my owner Sara’s quest for Crazy Cat Ladydom. Enjoy this picture of my charmingly handsome face, taken at the shelter where I was rescued from.

Clearly this face is irresistible.

Clearly I’m irresistible.

Gustav Mustachio
Age: 8 to 12 months (new family estimates about nine months)
Rescued From: Oklahoma Humane Society Adoption Center, 7500 N. Western Ave. Oklahoma City, 73116
Previous History: Unknown

In the week two weeks (this post was delayed by my new mom getting violently ill and then Thanksgiving) since I’ve come to my new home, I’ve been busy teaching my new family all about me, and I’m now going to share some of those fun facts with you. I’m going to let my new slave, uh, I mean, owner take it from here. My dainty little paws just get too tired of this typing nonsense.


1. He is the chillest cat in the entire world. He has settled without pause (or should I say PAWS, amirite people?!) into his new home, as if he’d lived here his entire life. He was not the slightest bit fazed by a new house, four new people, or a new cat. He was simply not concerned. He apparently just took a look around and decided, eh, this will do.

Gustav the Pooh

2. He is the smoothest little operator you’ll ever meet. Let me just say that we were DETERMINED to get a little kitten. We were hoping around two-three months at most. But when my dad and I took my mom and sister up to meet him, he came to greet us, and when I sat down on the floor, he climbed into my lap and kept curling closer, before putting the finishing touch on it by putting his paw over my arm so I couldn’t let him go. He took one look at me and knew I was an easy mark, and he had me suckered in about five minutes later.

I’m pretty sure Gus is Thomas O’Malley in real life.

3. Gustav is a huge, fat fraud. He is not, in fact, chill and cuddly. He is actually insane. For two days, he just sprawled on the loveseat and slept, apparently charging his batteries to go on a crazy spree. Don’t try to hold him, he meows stridently and thrashes to be put down. God, I sure can pick cats.

I’ve seen this look on Gustav’s face.

4. Gustav loves to sprint around the house meowing and chasing his new brother, Finn. Especially in the dead of night, when mommy is TRYING TO SLEEP.

5. HE. IS. A. BOTTOMLESS. PIT. (I’m almost 98.5% certain that little Gustav’s giant belly just hovers on the verge of exploding at any given moment.)

“Wet food, dry food, people food– it doesn’t matter. It’s also irrelevant if I just ate all the food you gave me AND the food you gave Finn, if you’re having a bowl of cereal, I need that, too. Then I need some Whiskas if you’re in the kitchen. It’s all mine and I want it ALL.” — Gustav
Well, except kitty treats, of course. In a stunningly ironic turn of events, Gus is not the slightest bit interested in cat treats.

6. Gustav just LOVES to climb on counters!!!

7. When he does sleep, he loves to do so in the weirdest possible positions.









Silly human, I am not interested in such petty concerns as gravity.

Silly human, I am not interested in such petty concerns as gravity.

8. His new brother, Finn, was very skeptical of him at first, but Gus is winning him over.



After all, I make a great body pillow.

After all, I make a great body pillow.

Just a fun note: Gustav is also obsessed with sleeping in my closet. He’ll spend hours sleeping on my shoes hidden behind my hangups– just like my love life.

9. Gustav Mustachio is quite a mouthful, so he has been dubbed “Gus-Gus.”


Yep, after this one. They have similar attitudes about food.

10. Gus-Gus is obsessed with the outdoors, and determined to go outside any chance he can. We even took him outside when it was snowing here and tried to dissuade him, but apparently Gus looks upon the frigid, frozen wasteland of winter and says, Get me some of that!! We are starting him on a harness to possibly take him on walks eventually.

Hoping for this…

As opposed to this.

Finn is the freeze up and refuse to move type on a leash. Gus-Gus walked around on the porch with the harness on–awkwardly, but he was moving! Hopefully we can pursue this path with him and lead to a minefield of comic gold for the blog, uh, I mean, a happy and healthy way of indulging Gus and his interest in outside!

So there you have it, friends, a quick outline of our first two weeks with our new kitty. I feel like I learn something new about him every day, and he really is a joy. It’s very bittersweet, because it makes me miss my Boo baby so very much, but at the same time, we’re letting another kitty into our hearts and it makes me happy. It seems like Gus-Gus has always been here with us because he’s insinuated himself into our lives so seamlessly. I hope you’ll come along with us as we welcome this new member into our family!

Gus-Gus likes to photo-bomb.

Here I am innocently trying to take a pic for a recent post on my bargain fashion blog and BOOM– cat butt. So naturally I had to stop and take some pics with my new kitty.



If you haven’t before, please, please, PLEASE go check out my bargain fashion blog and follow me there too!