“The Leaning Tower of Booze” by Kinsee Morlan
Life without a car in Southern California is impossible. Life without a car when you work in Southern California but live in Tijuana is even less possible.
My engine blew up a few days ago. My life feels like it’s blowing up, too. But before you tell me to stop being a whiny pussy, let me squeeze in a few more complaints.
First off, I recently got audited. Yep, the IRS does actually care about the money you make, even if it’s less than 30,00 a year. I guess I learned that the hard way. Now I owe money, and I can add that to the increasing number that is not unlike the National Debt. Seriously, student loans are sucking my blood. Credit cards are eating my soul and now the IRS is munching on my heart.
Living in debt is the American way, but it’s finally hit the point where I feel like it’s hopeless. I’m tempted to drive down the coast of Baja California and never come back. First, of course, I’ll pull out a molar and fake my death. That seems more logical than actually attempting to pay off my debt.
As if that crap weren’t enough, the Border Patrol agent in the Sentri line almost took my Sentri card away. As my friend put it, it’s amazing how techonologically savvy credit cards companies are, but our own government still can’t figure this whole internet thing out. My card was stolen, I reapplied for a new card, they issued me a new card, but the system still thinks it was stolen. Awesome. So let me just drive out to Otay when I don’t have a car and waste an hour or two explaining how this mixup isn’t my fault. Sounds fun, doesn’t it?
I’m going to get a new car, but getting the new registration and plates and insurance and then taking it back out to Sentri so they can approve it just seems so freaking daunting. I hate beauracracy. I hate lines and official forms and my life, at least for the next month, will be filled with them.
And on top of all this crap, I have crap in my lungs and nose and throat. I went to the doctor after two weeks of it and she said I’d be fine. It’s been a week. I’m still not fine. I’d like to stop choking on phlegm if it’s at all possible. Thanks for nothing, doc.
Yes, there are starving babies in Africa. My life isn’t so bad, I know, but now and again I’m allowed to bitch.