Bumming a Ride

Most things about our current situation don't really bother me that much, especially since worrying doesn't help but having to bum rides do.

Here I am fifty four years old having to bum rides home from work. I don't have to bum rides TO work so that's a plus.

We travel like clowns in a car. I go into work at three thirty so Tim drops me off first. I get out of the front passenger side at work and retrieve my things from the back of the car while the two boys switch seats. Either Zach or TJ will get out and move to the front seat and the other one will stay in the back. Then Tim drops the boys off where they work and two more clowns jump out. Then Tim drives up to the airport to work.

When I get off work I usually always bum a ride home. Lucky for me one co worker goes right by our street on her way home. There's another sweet girl who lives in the total opposite direction but refuses to let me take a cab. There's a third girl who kinda sorta goes my way and has toted me home numerous times. There's also a bartender who has taken me home on several occasions and even picked me up a couple of times. I offer every one of these people money for gas and all decline. I guess they think if I can't afford a car I must be pretty broke, and unfortunately are right on both counts. I have made a couple of them take a little money or refuse to bum a ride.

We're into a real mess with this car thing.

This is the picture of the car I will eventually, hopefully be driving.

The deal was $3000.00. We could pay half down and they would drop in the new transmission and make payments on the balance.

We've paid close to two grand and the new transmission isn't even in it yet. Granted I've been paying a hundred dollars at a time but a deal is a deal.

The owner of the shop has pretty much dropped out of the picture (another blog entirely) but the mechanic who actually works on the cars has taken over. When I can come up with two hundred more dollars he will drop the new transmission in and then after five hundred more I won't be bumming rides, unless my new/used car breaks down. I totally distrust the owner of the shop by this point in the game but since we already have the title just need to pay off the mechanic and hope the car runs as great as they promised.

On  different note,  am attending the wedding of one of my co workers this weekend. Actually, I am her Matron of Honor. I've never been one before and didn't really know the rules. Lucky for me she is French Canadian and new to the rules of an American marriage. I nicknamed her "Frenchy" her first day at work and the name stuck like Gorilla Glue.

What do you have to do when you are the Matron of Honor? I started by throwing her a bridal shower. Since living together for over seven years they pretty much have everything they need so made it a Lingerie shower. It turned out really well and the champagne punch helped tremendously.

She's a tiny slip of a woman, even makes ME look overweight. She's one of my co workers who takes my tired old self home after work some nights. Last night she did just that. When I plopped down into the front seat of her car she was talking on her cell to her betrothed, telling him she was taking her "Matron of Honor" home.

I looked over and said "More like your Bum of Honor."

Then to make me feel even worse she gave me a beautiful gift for standing up with her. An aluminum wire bracelet with Austrian crystals and a pair of stunning black glass earrings.

This from a woman who goes over ten miles out of her way to dump me off after work then head back the other way twenty miles to her own home.

I feel terrible having to bum rides but on the other hand feel extremely loved. They could and can always say no or make up an excuse but never have. They all act like it's a  pleasure and no problem whatsoever.

So I let Massey go to our favorite consignment store last weekend and pick out my Matron of Honor dress. She did a great job, it's a size zero and should fit like a glove. Got to buy some shoes but then I'll be set. I borrowed some pearls from another co worker who constantly totes my butt home from work and just glad my black eye healed up in time.

Seems crazy to me (an oxymoron if I've ever heard one) but after all we've been through the thing which really bothers me the most is having to have people cart me around like cab drivers, then refuse to let me pay the fare.

Once again, I am truly a lucky and blessed broke ass Bee-otch.

I had a table at work tonight. It was slow, much to my broke ass chagrin but the woman paid their fifty one dollar tab in cash and said she didn't need change. I was in the back and after checking the payment book noticed  she had left four twenties.

I went back to the table, excused myself for the interruption and asked the woman how much money she had given me ? She looked worried but said "Sixty dollars" like I was going to accuse her of not leaving enough. I held out the four twenties.

Broke as I am, Karma is an even bigger Bee-otch. On one hand she could have been a really Phat tipper but didn't think that was the case. Boy I sure could have used that extra twenty but wasn't mine and I'm all about Karma.

I didn't get an extra twenty but felt better about doing the right thing.

 That's one of the main problems in our world today, people simply don't do the right thing.

Live your life, love your life even if it seems to suck. At least you're still around to make a difference.

I'm all about being positive, negative is just negative and never amounts to anything positive.

Our time is coming, I can just feel it.

Til next time, a bumming COTTON.