The girls and I are out and about, singing karaoke, drinking, just having a fun night out. One of my girls is on stage belting out Beyoncé’s “Single ladies put a ring on it.” I shouldn’t say belting it out, more like screeching it. Let’s just say a few patrons left the bar during her Beyoncé solo. No one would be putting a ring on her finger after that performance. But in her defense, 2am, many drinks in.
As she’s shaking her left hand on stage I suddenly realize, my car. I was supposed to move it over an hour ago. My girlfriend next to me realizes my thought process and asks about my car.
We couldn’t get our girlfriend off the stage. She was in her element. We didn’t trust our drunken friend with our purses. We pay the bartender ten dollars to keep an eye on them. Told him that we will come back for her. She’ll be fine as long as she has the stage, microphone, and a drink in hand.
So three of us leave the bar. None of us can remember the square that I parked my car in. Do you know how many squares are in my beloved city downtown? Twenty two, yes TWENTY-TWO FUCKING squares.
It’s going to take a while. Thank goodness my car beeps when I press my key fob. So, we begin the process of eliminating the squares. But we aren’t complete drunken idiots we start off with the most popular and familiar squares.
We go to three squares, no luck. So much for third time is a charm. On the fourth square, we found it. Eureka! My car didn’t have a ticket on it. We made it in just enough time. We all pile into the car. I’m so happy I didn’t get a ticket. I’m as cool as a cucumber. The alcohol in my system is making me brave.
Brave, like I think I can find new parking and parallel park while inebriated…
I see an empty parking spot.
My girlfriend says its way too small, you can’t fit. I told her FUCK YES I CAN FIT! Watch Bunny park this bitch! I maneuver my car into the spot. Boo yah! Only one small problem, well if I am going to be specific technically two. The two problems are the scratches I put on the car in front of me and behind me. Whoops!
Inner monologue moment: Those cars should be at home. It’s two o’clock in the morning after all. Irresponsible people, out that late. They should be at home sleeping with their cars in their driveways. So really when you think about it, it’s all the owners of the cars in front and behind me faults. If they had been home sleeping like responsible people the scratches would have never happened.
So my girlfriend is freaking out. I tell her to hold her horses, and take a deep breath. I double check the cars, definitely hit them. Oops…
I move the car a little further down the street. I just pulled into this spot, no issues. I know what you’re thinking, no I’m not leaving the scene of the crime.
I’m going to fix it.
I’m not an irresponsible car owner like the car that was in front of me and the car that was behind me.
Now my girlfriend is still flipping out, asking why we are moving, what are we going to do? Ya dee yada. What I’m thinking is if she would QUIT her bitching I would tell her my awesome plan.
I tell her to open the glove box and hand me the sage green bag. We lock up and walk back to cars. She asks, “How are we going to fix this?” I tell her to open up the bag. She looks inside, then looks at me and asks, “How is nail polish going to fix this?” I tell her don’t worry I learned from the best, aka mom.
I’ve got every basic color in shine or in matte. I told her I’m going to need you to be look out. She tells me NO! She didn’t hit the car. I told her STOP being such a weenie and just keep an eye on the street.
She’s standing on the corner, looking out. I pull out the to go nail polish remover pads to clean off the area. So I’d have a clean area to paint on. I pull the matte white and cover the scratch. It was a teeny scratch, so it was an easy fix. I flash the flashlight from my phone over it to double check.
I’m good, so it’s time to move on to my next impromptu canvas.
Red truck has a LARGER scratch. Thankfully I had the right shade of red. THANK GOODNESS!! But my girlfriend comes running over that people are coming. I told her to STOP flipping a shit. Just rub my back. I sit down on the sidewalk and put my head between my legs. The group that passes by asks if we need any help, we said no we’re good but thank you.
Okay, so we are in the clear again. It’s go time.
I touch up the red. We are now all good. Now we head back to the bar to pick up our other girlfriend. We end up staying at a friends house that night. They happened to live a block away from where the “incident” happened.
The next morning I go over to check. The cars look flawless. *HAPPY DANCE* The girlfriend who was up on stage asks what are you doing? I tell her don’t worry about it. My other girlfriend (the one who was a weenie) she says “girl you’re crazy”. I replied, and “that’s why you LOVE me”.
Advice: The only time a woman is helpless is when her nail polish is wet.