So I’m driving to BFE yesterday at the ass crack of dawn because I used to live there (BFE, not the ass crack) and I haven’t bothered to find a new GP since I was parolled a few years ago.

I’m a little foggy after having a sleep/recovery marathon on Sunday and I’m fazed out at a stop light, prepared to miss it because I’m about 10 cars back but still prepared to be right on time (b/c that’s how I roll) for the good Dr. when the light performs its magical emerald shift and BOOM!

The jackhole behind me decided if the light was green he was ready to go, forget about the fact that there were 10 cars between him and the light. I think the yelp that I let out might have scared me more than the accident, but either way I threw Jack in park and hop out to survey the damage. Not a scratch on her, but then again she’s got a steel bumper (awww yeah). So Jackhole hops out of his car, walks up and tells me “the light was green and I looked down for a second…” probably not something you want to admit to me if you don’t want a bloody nose, but hey, it’s your choice, bub.

So he looks at Jack’s butt and says “no damage” and I say “nope, not to me, but check you out” and the hood of his baby blue Ford Taurus is Captian Crunch from smacking the bottom of the bike rack and riding the bumper. He throws his hands up in a sign of defeat and gets back in his car.

I stand there for a minute longer, thinking “no way did he just get back in his car” but I’m in no position to do anything about it (he’s the one at fault and the one with damage) so I get back in mine, let him pass me to take down his plate and continue on to the good doctor to talk about my eye funk.

My eye is fine but the more I go over it in my head I think I should go ahead and CMA by rolling to the local police station. Now Alpharetta is a nice town with lots of tax money to spend on cute cruisers and pretty precincts, but they don’t know shit about making you comfortable in their waiting area. No literature, no TV’s, just trophy’s topped by men with guns. On top of it all, my BlackBerry was dead so I couldn’t even catch up on email.

So after an hour wait and a 5 minute conversation/attitude from the princess constable on patrol my “CPE” (whatever that is) is filed and I was finally back on the road…only 2 hours late for work.

Good times.