Why did the state of Ohio give me a license to operate an automobile?

 (No pictures in this one either, folks. They take too much work and I'm lazy.)

 ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t know.

Y’see, both of my parents were born and raised in Michigan. I was born in Michigan. I am a Michigan driver by blood and birth. For those of you who don’t know, for Michigan drivers, a car is a lethal weapon. That’s why they require a license to drive in that state. The state of Ohio should have realized this when my siblings and I applied for our licenses and said, “STFU GTFO.”

Honestly, with as many stupid things as I’ve done while operating an automobile, I should not have a license (and if you’re my mother, and you’re reading this – all of this is totally fictional. I’m writing it just for laughs. Promise). It took me three tries to pass my driver’s test. Three. And you would think it would be the maneuverability section (the equivalent of parallel parking elsewhere) I would fail on. Nope. It was the actual driving part. First time, I made a shitty left turn and nearly backed into a car. Second time, I made a rolling stop…. Twice. Third time? I passed! Hooray!

I’ve run over a cement parking block, driven the wrong way down a one way street, made a U-turn in the middle of the road (it was in the country. Not ENTIRELY unsafe), and purposefully run a red light.

Yes. I purposefully drove through an intersection when I was not supposed to, risking my life, and the life of others. My god, I am a terrible person.

Of course, those are not the thoughts that went through my head at the time. My thoughts at the time were more along the lines of, “Yellow light, yellow light, yellow light – can I make it? Red light. Fuck. Any red light cameras? No? Keep going!”

Let this be a lesson to you kiddies. If you’re thinking about running a red light, you can’t just assume you’ll make it through the intersection and everything will be okay. And if you’re gonna go the route I did, and check for red light cameras and run the intersection anyways, make sure you don’t make the same mistake I did.

Make sure you check for cops as well. Otherwise you’ll get a $120 ticket that will drain your bank account the way Dracula drains your mom.

And it wasn’t even a, “Oh, the light changed as I was going through the intersection! It’s up for debate.” No. The light was blatantly red and I said, “Fuck it, I’m not stopping!” And then the police officer was like, “Hahaha! Got you! >:D” 

And let me tell you, being pulled over is a terrifying experience, especially if you’ve never been pulled over before. But a strange, strange thing has happened.

Ever since then, I swear, I pass a police car every time I’m on the road.

No joke. It’s as if their, “Laura is nearing a car… starting a ca- OH SHIT GET IN THE CAR WE HAVE ROADS TO PROTECT!” senses go off every time I'm near a mode of transportation.

And after being pulled over, the sight of a cop scares you shitless. I once saw a police car at an intersection and immediately slowed down. I then realized I was going the speed limit and there was no need for me to slow down.

In fact, yesterday, I was heading over to my favorite coffee house, and there was a police officer in front of me and was in front of me for ten minutes. The fucker knew where I was going! JK he really didn’t, he eventually turned. And you know what? When I had pulled up to a stoplight – there was another one beside me. (He did tell me my right tail light was out though - and if you're my mom and reading this, your car's right tail light is out). THEY HAD ME SURROUNDED. It was terrifying. It was if they were saying, “Laura – we’re watching. Don’t fuck things up.”

But folks, let me tell you. This experience has taught me two things. The first is how not to get caught running a red light (check for red light cameras AND police officers). The second, is how to get out of a ticket. Yes, I know I didn’t get out of my ticket, but I thought of the perfect way to do so.

Kindness.

Don’t laugh. Listen - my idea is genius.

See, what you do, is you keep a stash of thank you notes with you at all times (or at least while you’re operating a motor vehicle). When you get pulled over, ask for the officer’s name, and address your thank you card to him/her. The pre-written message should say something like, “Dear ______, Thank you for keeping our city safe! I appreciate it :)” Then put the card in the envelope, and hand it to the officer.

See, no one is EVER happy to see a police officer – ‘cause it usually means the shit has hit the fan. By giving the officer a thank you card, he and/or she will be so happy and full of warm fuzzies that he and/or she will be like, “Aw, shucks. You don’t need no ticket.” (In a southern accent. I don’t know why. I’m in Ohio – I shouldn’t picture any imaginative person with a southern accent) and let you off the hook.

And if that doesn’t work, well… I told you to look for cops before running the red light. It’s your own damn fault.

This is what happens when you drink: A graphical representation

Break Up Therapy

(Sorry folks, no pictures in this one. I was too lazy to add them in.)

 Most of us have been there. The world sucks. Babies are no longer adorable. Cute couples make you want to shank a toddler. Puppies are suddenly as annoying as Fran Drescher’s voice. You want to punch every romantic comedy in the face and scream, “IT’S NOT LIKE THAT AT ALL.”

Ladies and/or gentlemen, I am talking about break ups.

Everyone always says, “Break ups are hard,” and “Break ups suck – they hurt so much.” But until you have to go through one, you have no idea how much it fucking hurts. It feels like someone cut open your chest, put a rabid squirrel in there, and closed you back up. It feels like someone replaced your blood with a mixture of Coke and Mentos. It feels like all the happy in you was replaced with dead puppies and drowning kittens. It’s awful, and can be a difficult thing to get through.

Lucky for you, your favorite blogger is highly inexperienced in the area of relationships and getting over break ups. I have put together a comprehensive list of therapies you need to partake in in order to get over your break up. A weekend* of nothing but these activities and you’ll be good as new.

*Note: This varies depending on the length of the relationship that has ended.

Crying -Like-A-Baby Therapy

Ex-Significant Other Sam has left after saying, “I think we should stop seeing each other.” You’re crushed. You numbly close the door behind Sam. It feels like there’s a mixture of marshmallows and lead in your stomach.

You know what you need to do. So do it.

Go ahead. Let it all out. Cry. Cry after he and/or she has walked out the door after just dumping you. Cry when “our song” comes on the radio. Cry when you’re eating his and/or her favorite flavor of ice cream. Just. Fucking. Cry. You’ll feel better.

Throwing-Shit-Around-the-House Therapy

It’s the morning after Sam has dumped you. You haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday because you haven’t been hungry since. After crying some more, you decide to make toast for two reasons: 1 – because you’re finally hungry, and 2 – because toast is good. Toast doesn’t leave you. Toast has been there for you when you were sick as a child, in the morning to send you off to school or work, when you were hungry and needed something quick. Toast is always there – toast doesn’t break up with you.

You open up the bag of bread. The first few slices on top are a bit dry and stale, so you take them out, set them on the counter, and reach for the better bread – the fresh bread. You put the bread in the toaster oven, and wait for your friend, toast, to comfort you.

You don’t know how it happens, but all of the sudden, the stale bread is in your hand and in seconds it’s on the floor. You threw it. You don’t know why you threw it, but you do know this – it fucking felt good. So you pick it up and throw it again. And again. You see the water bottle that has been sitting on the counter for weeks and throw that too. You see a stack of papers and throw that. You find shoes, bags, more water bottles, pillows, babies and throw them all. The house is now a mess, but goddammit that felt good.

Note that Throwing-Shit-Around-the-House Therapy is more effective when accompanied by Crying-Like-A-Baby Therapy.

Blasting-Music-so-Loud-You-Burst-Your-Neighbor’s-Eardrums Therapy

Your temper tantrum is done, and your friend, toast, has arrived. You sit down on the floor of the living room with toast. It’s quiet. You feel alone because it’s so quiet. Feeling alone un-does all the progress you’ve made in therapy. So what do you do? You turn on music. Loud music. There is only one rule – the music cannot be sad. It has to be music you associate with happy times – times filled with daffodils, puppies, daisies, kittens, sunshine and rainbows.

Note that Blasting-Music-so-Loud-You-Burst-Your-Neighbor’s-Eardrums Therapy is more effective when accompanied by Crying-Like-A-Baby Therapy and Throwing-Shit-Around-the-House Therapy.

Retail Therapy

After crying, throwing, and developing hearing loss, you feel like getting up and doing something. You don’t want to mope around. There’s a world out there! A world out there, ready for the taking! A world full of things to be bought! So, call up your friends and go shopping. Go to the most expensive store you know of and shop. It doesn’t matter if you can’t afford the clothes – try on fabulous garments that even the vapid women on Sex and the City couldn’t afford.  And take pictures of yourself in these garments. And if you just so happen to post them on facebook and your ex just so happens to see how mind-blowingly hot you look, well, kudos.

Or you could go to Target and buy a new bikini and some cute tops. That also works.

Note that Crying -Like-A-Baby Therapy, Throwing-Shit-Around-the-House Therapy, and Blasting-Music-so-Loud-You-Burst-Your-Neighbor’s-Eardrums Therapy probably wouldn’t make Retail Therapy any more effective. In fact, you would probably get a lot of worried looks from people if you started crying, throwing shit around the store, and turning your iPod on full blast. You would also probably be escorted off the premises by security.

Devouring-a-Burrito-the-Size-of-a-Baby Therapy

At this point, you’re starting to feel better. You’re smiling, you’re laughing. Yeah it still hurts, but you have friends and shopping to take your mind off things. Now that you’re feeling better, you’re realizing how hungry your friend, toast, left you.

This, my friends, is where Chipotle* comes into play.

There are two steps to this one:

Step 1 - Buy a burrito the size of a small baby.
Step 2 - Devour said burrito. All of it.

Life is now magical.

Again, the first three therapies probably would not work well in Chipotle. In fact, you would probably get banned from Chipotle for life. This is not cool. Don’t do it.

*Can be substituted with other Mexican restaurants that serve burritos the size of babies.

Tequila Therapy

It’s a Saturday night. Go out and get blitzed.* Just remember to stop after three shots of tequila. After three, you’re on the floor.

Note that the first therapy works pretty well with Tequila Therapy – but throwing things around the bar/club/party you’re at might scare some people, and get you taken away by the cops. In handcuffs.

*And by “Go out and get blitzed,” I mean, “Drink responsibly.”

Get-the-Fuck-Out-of-Here Therapy

Go somewhere – anywhere. I don’t mean go to the store or to a spa. I mean travel. See things, meet people, commit crimes have fun. Go to Dallas, Cleveland, Thailand – wherever. Sure you may just be trying to literally run away from your feelings, or seeing how far you have to travel to forget about Ex-Significant Other Sam, but as long as you get some new, awesome experiences out of it, I don’t see what the problem is.

Well, there you have it folks, a comprehensive list of therapies to help you get over your Ex-Significant Other Sam. All of these therapies may be repeated as many times as necessary – except Tequila Therapy. After repeating Tequila Therapy so many times, it stops being known as “therapy” and becomes known as “alcoholism.” That’s not cool, so don’t do it.