I almost saw my life flash before my eyes today. Literally.
I'm not even being dramatic about this...things got serious. Seriously.
My dad and I were at the gas station. I was sitting in the car waiting for him. The day was sunny and warm--just setting the scene for you.
I was soon joined by a couple young men, of what seemed was a white-trash variety. Now, I'm not trying to sterotype, but they were. Ghetto fabulous boat of a cruise machine, white wife beater, and inappropriately bumping bass included.
Anyways, it was no big deal. Everyone needs to gas up, and in that machine it probably happens more often than not. (Sometimes I'm really thankful for my hybrid.)
Next thing I know, one of these gentlemen is lighting up a cigarette.
I couldn't get the image of my dad coming out of the mini-mart (complete with 27 varieties of soda to quench your thirst) to a huge explosion killing me, the two guys, and the grandma pumping at the far island.
Did this man not see the movie Zoolander? I thought it was a required film.
My arms were quivering, not out of fear, but due to the fact I just spent the past 45 minutes wielding a weedeater. (Confused? My second job is lawn care.)
As his friend started pumping gas and we pulled away, leaving the possible disaster in our wake.
And Granny to fend for herself.