Corrupted I have been

Blogs. You either love them or you hate him. I've always felt the latter about them, and as a result, have avoided them like AIDS. But it's finals week, so instead of doing something productive like studying for math, I'm going to give into peer pressure and make one of these damn things. Anyway, I'm going to be honest. I doubt that anyone will ever read these posts, and I doubt that I care too much. At any rate, my plan is to make this vile thing into a compilation of all of my rather "interesting" escapades, rather than random emo musings about cutting my wrists (although I'm sure that you'll hear plenty of that later on).
As many of you are already aware, I'm kind of in need right now. Fuck, I'm not going to beat around the bush. I owe my parents eight thousand dollars. That's a dollar sign, followed by an eight and three zeroes. This terrible blog of mine is in fact part of my scheme to raise this vast amount of money. "Wow, that's a lot of money/bling/pesos," you say, "and why do you owe it all to your parents?" Well, it'd almost be a funny story, if I didn't hate it so much. I'm sure that all of you have already heard me moaning about it at some point or another, but for those of you who haven't, here it is in all of its fine, gory detail.
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Friday, December 15
I feel like the king of the world. I came, I saw, and I conquered the bane of teenage existance that is the road test. Hell, I even managed to acquire my own car, along with some *very* limited insurance (which I of course didn't find out about until later). At any rate, it's Friday night, and my dearest mother asks me if I'd like to drive to a random social gathering of mine. I jump at the chance, since after all, I am Asian, and I was foolishly confident in my driving abilities. This turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life. Unfortunately, my mom decides to arrive home at 5:55ish, and then proceeds to drive off to the Dells, leaving me with the house to myself and about five minutes to get to my destination. Now, at this point I could lie to you and say that I remained calm and devised a brilliant plan to create a time machine, but I've already made it pretty obvious that I chose instead to freak out like a little girl. Once I was on the road, it *obviously* made sense to follow the guy in front of me as close as I possibly could, while driving about 40 miles over the speed limit. I'll avoid delving into further detail, but the end result was me slowing down to about 20 miles per hour, and then ramming the ass of a rare exotic Jaguar. Once I saw my hood rising up into an awkward position, I was fairly certain that I was going to take a trip up shit creek. I was wrong. Shit creek? Try shit lake, shit bay, the gulf of shit, or the shitific ocean. About five seconds after I hit the Jaguar, I heard a loud, angry, and most certainly violent "FUCK". Out stepped a brash, red faced, and extremely pissed off white man. "FUCK" was the word of the night, as his mouth and my thoughts made a beautiful symphony of profanity inside of my mind. Anyway, some stuff goes down, the cops get called, and I end up admitting to them that my parents aren't home. The cop is actually a pretty nice guy, and gives me some contact information to give to my parents once they return. The smart thing to do at this point would be to call my parents, tell them about the accident, and pray to Jesus, Buddah, and my ancestors that they'd let me off with my vital organs intact.
That would've been the smart thing to do, but as you can tell, I wasn't exactly the smartest that evening. Instead of telling my parents, it made much more sense to me at the time to hide my car in the woods. My parents come home the next day, and of course they ask me where the car is. Being the honest, upright person that I am, I of course lie to their faces. "It's at a friend's house; I got a ride home and didn't have time to pick it up." A lame excuse, I know, but it was apparently good enough for them. Fast forward to Monday afternoon, and I'm greeted at the door by a flying metal vase about three inches from my face. Violence ensued, and I soon found myself retrieving my car from the woods. A day or so later, I am the proud owner of a $3500 debt. Now, as I was lamenting my loss of innocence and contemplating on the best way to make $3500 out of my spare kidney, I find that the $3500 was only for my car. The damage to the Jaguar wasn't very extensive, and was only around $4500. And this is the part where my life officially begins to suck. Hard. In my panic, I added the two numbers together, and got $7000. "That's awful," I thought to myself. Not only was I a broke Asian, I was also a broke Asian who happened to be bad at math. $4500 + $3500 = $8000, which is more than a single kidney can cover. I laughed at my fate, and the fact that I was recently forced by mommy and daddy to quit my job at Target, because it was detrimental to my academic success (or some other bullshit along those lines). My parents, being the reasonable people that they are, told me that I needed to find some other way of raising this exuberant amount of money without returning to work, because "studies always come first". I cursed, and calmly returned to my room to contemplate the most profitable way to commit suicide.
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Yeah, that's pretty much the full story of my life right now. Hopefully writing this blog will somehow result in finding a way to raise $8000. If not, then at least I can entertain you people with some amusing stories about my life (yes, there are more). Until I update this vile thing again, I bid you all a fond farewell.