So, I almost died yesterday at the hands of a crazed serial killer.
Here's what happened...
I leave the lady doctor where I was thoroughly poked, prodded, felt up and told to lose weight.
Seriously. Every freakin time. Doc, do you really think I don't know that I'm fat. Come on.
Her advice? Every time? "Cut your food in half."
It seems so simple! Eat less?! What a concept!
I may need to find a new lady doctor who doesn't feel the need to insult my intelligence while also degrading me.
Anyway, I'm on my way home from the oh-so-insightful and invasive doctor when I see a lady standing in her yard, flagging me down. She's waving her arms, which are holding something that I can't quite distinguish, and I made eye contact.
Thinking that she was in dire distress and may be in need of my superb crisis intervention skills, I stop and roll down the window.
What is she holding in her hands? Jumper cables. She wants to know if I can jump start her car.
Easy enough. Sure. Why not.
She points to the side of her house and tells me that the car is just inside the gate and I should pull around so she can let me in.
Okay. I'll meet her over there.
You know what else is just inside the gate? Chainsaws. Axes. Machetes. Shallow graves. Ears hanging on wind chimes while this lady's cannibalistic family enjoys a nice picnic lunch of...me!
Oh for the love of trying to be a good neighbor, why didn't I just pretend I don't speak english.
Or fake an irrational phobia of jumper cables and peel off as she waved them at me.
Or just say 'no', I'm not entering your yard/den of evil because I like my ears.
I am way too nice to people.
I pull over to the side of the completely fenced in area where I can hear her on the other side of the 6' fence, unlatching what seems to be an awful lot of very heavy metal locks.
Oh God. Am I really doing this?
No. Screw her. I'm driving away while I still have all of my skin...oh sh*t. Eye contact again.
I pull into the gate expecting to find the car right there, ready to be jumped and easy to access. Instead, I find two cars parked to my right, facing the fence with one empty space. For my car.
It's the tightest parking spot I've ever seen.
Tighter than a frog's middle finger...or something.
The problem is that my space happens to be immediately to the right as you pull into the gate...between the second car and the fence. This means that I now have to pull up, do a 27 point turn and maneuver myself into that very narrow space while not hitting her house, fence, car or tweenage pajama clad daughter.
It's okay. She closed the gate behind me so I could do the maneuvering.
I'm now officially locked inside a crazy lady's yard.
O.M.G. This is it. This is how I'm going to die.
I'm going to be killed by a very crazy lady and her tweenage pajama clad daughter and bits of my body will become snacks for the cat hoarder's cats.
I don't say a word from this point on. My mouth is sealed shut with fear. I put on my best 'appease the crazy lady' fake smile and proceed to open my hood. As she hooks up the jumper cables and instructs her tweenager to 'gun it baby, just gun it', I position myself so that I can jump into the car, floor it through her fence and escape if the need arises.
I then rethink that plan in favor of one that allows me to call 911 because the crazy lady now has pliers in her hand. She uses these metal pliers to hold together the metal contact point thingy of the battery while her tweenager guns it.
Holy sh*t. I'm going to watch this woman die. Right here. It's going to happen. I'm going to see a crazy lady get electrocuted and there's nothing I can do about it.
Wait. Maybe I should be recording this.
Could this be my ticket to internet fame?
Unfortunately, no. While applying metal pliers to a car battery is not the best idea, it was actually effective. Especially when you have your pajama clad tweenager do it. Maybe the fuzzy parts of her Winnie the Pooh fleece provided the proper conduction.
I'm not a mechanic. I don't know about these things.
I do know that as soon as that car started up, I was ripping jumper cables off and throwing them at the crazy lady.
Good luck lady! Excuse me while I prepare for the 287 point turn that's going to get me the hell out of your yard and away from all of your crazy.
When I told MB about what a good neighbor I was, he rolled his eyes and walked away.
I'm pretty sure it was to cry in private at the thought of my demise via jumper cable wielding tweenagers in Winnie the Pooh pajamas. I'm not sure why he kept mumbling 'idiot' and 'jackass' though.
That just seems rude.