Oh, You Know...Just Been Hanging Out Beaking In To My Car...

My brother is pretty much the only HK to still talk to my dad (I’m not about to talk to him and after his wedding shenanigans, Andrea is hesitant to call).

Anyway, he has a key to my car. He has had a key to my car for about two years now.

Here’s the skinny on the extra key. I had numerous keys. But for some reason my ignition likes to die right around the 2+year mark. I don’t understand it. I bought it in 2005 and have replaced the ignition twice. Anyway, the last time it was changed, they tried to avoid changing it by recalibrating the lock. They then gave us two keys. One I used and one I gave to my dad (at the time, we were talking. This was before he through me under the bus for a SECOND time).

When the latest “bus throwing” occurred, asking for my key back wasn’t exactly at the forefront of my mind.

However, about a month ago, that key would’ve sure come in handy.

See, I left my keys in my car and locked the door after I got done at the gym.

I called my dad’s cell from our home phone (my cell was charging in the locked car). He didn’t answer. I then called his work and his secretary informed me that he was out. Well, that blew.

Work isn’t exactly my favorite place in the world to be everyday, but paychecks are nice, so I ponied up and called my uncle who owns a body shop. Thirty minutes later, my car was unlocked and my checking account was $35 lighter (that’s like three liters and a mug on a Friday).

Now, to present day.

Kevin is home this weekend for our annual Fall Festival. This is a five-block street festival complete with rides, carnies, a plethora of food ranging from waffles to crawfish ettoufee to chocolate covered crickets, and mullets-a-plenty!

He came in on Thursday and I asked him, texted him, “When you see dad, ask for my key back.”

Friday, we went to the Fall Festival. I got potato springs. They are like potato chips, kind of. The potato is sliced super thin and curls off like a spring. It is then fried. So, it’s like a cross between a French fry and a chip – which are two of my favorite ways to ingest potatoes.

Mom got potato springs and a pronto pup (which is different from a corn dog because it is made with pancake batter). Kevin got a pronto pup and a philly cheesesteak.

After our heart-attack inducing afternoon, mom and I went home (I went to the gym) and Kevin went to get his hair cut by Andrea. And he didn’t come home. In fact, Andrea got home before him. This is a little obscene considering Kevin got his hair cut at 1:15 and Andrea got off work at 4 p.m. That is when I am informed that Kevin went to see out father.

I texted him: Don’t forget my key.

I get this back: I’ve already left.

Yes. That means he did not get the key. Why am I not surprised.

Since then, I have been riding his ass about getting my key. The ass-riding culminated his afternoon.

I had some errands to run earlier in the week. Procrastination and house cleaning set me back. I woke to the phone ringing and hearing my mom ask if I needed anything at Sam’s. I was a little disappointed because mom could’ve taken me on my errands and saved me the gas. I told her this. Since Andrea and I picked up a somewhat drunk little brother last night, she said she wanted me to sleep in. Nice sentiment, but I would’ve rather have had her drive.

I then haul my ass out of bed, dress, feed the dogs (stand over the bowl and tell Mac to at because he’s having an Olsen Twin morning) then head out the door to get my running done.

I get a chocolate covered caramel apple at this amazing chocolate store and realize I don’t have my debit card. I gave it to Andrea last night to buy the Hacienda. Damn.

The cash I was going to deposit is now my money.

I then head to Andrea’s shop and buy detangler and mousse. Next is Wal-Mart. I said a prayer and headed across the street. While there were many degenerates, no one warranted a snapshot on www.peopleofwalmart.com for ridicule. Double damn.

Now its on to Borders where I buy the Charlaine Harris Sookie Stackhouse compilation and a book in the Dark Hunter series. I left the 40% off coupon at the house. Fuck (Thankfully, they had a coupon for me to use, I love you Borders people even though you’re ignorant of books!).

Lastly, I deposit my mileage check into the bank and head home. I arrive home right behind Kevin and holler at him to help me get the diet Cokes into the house (24-pack for $6.98, score!).

I unlocked the back door for him, grab my bags, go into the house, set my stuff down, and change into gym clothes.

I spin some yarns for my mom and talk about my convo with a family friend and how this country doesn’t make people accountable for their actions and a possibly another letter to write to my congressman and senators.

Finally, I leave. As soon as I exit the door, I know, I know, my car is locked and my keys are in it.

I walk to my car, hoping I didn’t lock the car, but knowing that with my OCD-locking-complex this is very unlikely. I try the door. Locked. Of course. I look in the ignition. The keys are just hanging in the ignition. Nice. Damn, damn, damn. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Of course, I run into the house, berate my brother, tell him to call our father and drive me over there to get my keys.

But mom stops him. Armed with a coat hanger, we go outside. She checks out my locks and decides she’s going to try to open my car. With the metal hanger undone, she tries to stick it in the door. It won’t get through.

“Why haven’t you just had another key made?” my mom asked me.

“Because I’m a procrastinator,” I said.

I have another hanger, and push some through, but I can’t get it to open the door. It’s too flimsy. My sticks her hanger in. Our hangers cross paths. I say something that could be misconstrued and Kevin says “That’s what she said.”

Well, this isn’t working.

I tell Kevin to call dad. Then I bitch some more about how he could’ve avoided this whole predicament had he got the key yesterday.

That’s when Kevin sees a carpenter’s triangle. He grabs the triangle and wedges it into my door. Mom works the hanger, and with the help of Kevin and me, we open the car.

HOORAY!

“Call Dad and get your key back,” Kevin said then.

“Oh right, call him and have him not answer or call me back for my key. Just ask him for it, Kevin.”


“Erin,” he said in this tone that tells me I’m acting like an idiot. Well, I may be immature, but I’m the child, not the parent!

“Kevin!”

He shakes his head and goes into the house. I hear him say “stubborn” to my mom.

Maybe I am. But I made amends once. And my father once again tried to screwed me over AGAIN.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, well, cross me off your friends’ list because I will never ever speak to you again as long as we both shall live. And if you go on Who Wants to be a Millionaire and phone me, you better be prepared to lose, or give up 75% of your winnings. Then we might be even.