Saturday, June 19, 2010

Dirty hands or, I don't wanna wait

The soreness that characterized the day after my car accident are now a distant memory. One side effect remains with me, though. Constant paranoia! Not the useful kind that gives one ninja like reflexes, rather the kind that causes me to gibber like a lunatic anytime I see another vehicle anywhere within a 10 mile radius on the road. Sometimes even when I'm not on the road. Car's everywhere... any one of them could be looking to punch my proverbial ticket... Scary!
I am still tooling around in the rental car that Geico has provided me,but I am getting distinctly anxious to get this process over with. I mean my car is/was old. a 1993 Taurus, so, at the end of the day I know they aren't going to offer me much when they total it... I can only hope it will be enough to get something driveable. But the waiting is hard. It's like that awful feeling of anticipation when your at the doctors office. You've just heard that snap of latex against skin, the soft smeary sounds of Vaseline on gloved hands, those slow measured footsteps, and you know that at the end of it your no-no zone is going to be violated, but by golly you just want it over with so you can move on with your life. It seems I'm going have to wait until at least Monday tho'. I guess I'll use the time to enjoy sitting while I still can.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

There's got to be a morning after or, Thursday; Full collapse

Dateline: Thursday morning
The relentlessly cheery electronic drone of my cell phones alarm, drags my consciousness from my recurring dream of being chased by an anthropomorphic potato chip through a field of scissor wielding bunnies. my eyes flutter open and reality floods in. Preparing to turn off my alarm, I turn my head ever so slightly to the right and...

Mind numbing, spirit crushing agony flood my awareness. Turns out, once the shock of the actual accident wears off, getting rocked by two impacts in a car wreck can leave the body a wee bit sore. Still, I had work to get to, so I only allowed myself a lean fifteen minutes of gibbering and twitching before, I commenced crawling by my fingernails into the shower. It helped. My pain level went from apocalyptic to merely agonizing. Just a mild throbbing, and a headache which left me certain that horrible gremlins were doing unsavory things to my thought-meats.
Onward to work! I shouted to no one in particular, and then went...onward... to work. I spent most of my work day alongside a coworker with a truly intense love of the ol' Mara Jade who's major contribution to our discourse today was saying "What are you on, bud... bud?", whereupon he realized bud could be short for buddy and also be a slang term for cannabis and giggled to himself, for about the next two hours, occasionally saying 'bud'. Overall though, I was starting to feel better. Alas this was not to last. Soon we were engaging in the all important 'moving beer from point A to point B' portion of our duties, he was behind the wheel of the electric cart we use for the transport, when he (finally) noticed he was about to run into somebody. He brought the cart to a screeching halt. The keg behind me continued moving forward, it's speed unchanged. Ready for a math equation?This was not the highlight of my day.
In closing, I shall leave you with this... UNCENSORED GREMLIN ON THOUGHT-MEAT ACTION!!!

Understanding in a car crash or, how I spent my Wednesday

Let me set a scene for you. It was Wednesday morning. I had woken up, boundlessly optimistic as ever, to a world full of endless possibilities. I ventured out into the world to pick up my bi-weekly pittance from my place of employ, and upon opening the envelope died a little inside (fear not stalwart readers, that happens every time I open a check, and was far from the worst thing to happen to me). Nevertheless, I remained reasonably optimistic, and in a world with, if not endless, at least several possibilities. Alas, when I got back on the road, I was waiting at a red light to get on I-76 when the waveform collapsed and I occupied a world with only one future before me. A future wherein an inattentive fellow behind the wheel of a rather large Chevy slammed into my little car sending it straight into the 18 wheeler in front of me. Given the relative mass of the vehicles in front of me, it was rather like a wrecking ball throwing me into a brick wall.
Fortunately, it was a pretty cut and dry situation in terms of determining fault,since both myself and the semi involved were stationary till his arrival. Police arrived, statements were taken, insurers were notified. Both the Tahoe and the semi were minimally damaged, but my car... my poor little Taurus who never hurt a soul (who, indeed never even got the chance) let out a gasping exhalation of smoke and bled a variety of fluids all over the road and the rear bumper of the semi. It is quite ruined. So, whilst the fellow who struck me (hereto forward known as Smashy mcNolook), and the fellow I was knocked into both went forth into the world, in fully functional automobiles, I was given a tow to the local impound lot, and got to deal with Smashy mcNolook's insurer. I was given a claim number, and an adjuster was assigned to me. Attempts to actually speak to said adjuster were cruelly rebuffed by her voicemail. Attempts to use the 'for immediate help' extension resulted in another equally unhelpful voicemail box. Attempts to use their main line resulted in the operator helpfully telling me that her attempts to connect to that department were going straight to voicemail. Fucking. Brilliant.
First impressions of Geico:

Several hours later (hours I might add that were spent sitting in the sun on a rickety wooden bench outside the impound lot) My assigned adjuster got back to me. In their defense, once someone who actually had customer service in their job description got in touch with me, things got moving fairly smoothly. I've got a (very small*) rental car, and now need only wait for a field adjuster to look at the twisted wreckage of my car and, inevitably, total it. Wheee.

*Like seriously tiny. My knees poke out the side windows whilst my genitals are gently cradled by the steering wheel (This makes turning painful).

Obligatory first post explanation

Welcome one and welcome all to Screams From a Foaming Mouth, my new venue for... well whatever I have have a yen to type about really. Stylistically, this will probably be an illustrated blog, just because I know folks like looking at eye bleedingly terrible 'art'. People do still like that right? Fun facts about this blog:
1) I settled on the name after the first 15 I tried proved unavailable.
2) I named it (loosely) from a lyric in the song "From the Hips" by Cursive ( the actual lyric is 'I wanna scream it from my foaming mouth')
3) Uh... I guess that's all I got
So strap in and enjoy, because as Guy de Maupassant probably never said, "Hey, at least it's better then Syphilis"