So I moved for the umpteenth time in the last two years. I packed up the Zoë car with a plethora of worthless possessions and moved her to the Bermuda Triangle, which is located here:
You may think you are a better Geographer than me because since when is the Bermuda Triangle located in Southern Ontario? You may be saying to yourself, "Bitch be crazy." To you I say, "Please use proper grammar when thinking in response to my blog." I also say that I made this map myself, which I think I'm allowed to do, because I'm studying to be a Master Geographer, and if that's the case I can move things around on maps all I like. I'm the master. I'm the boss. You just haven't achieved my level of mastery. Calm down.
Anyways, much like Ron Burgundy, I make bad decisions. My friend that I am living with has the worst luck in the world. I won't go into details in order to protect her identity, but let's just say two of her cars have been eaten by the Bermuda Triangle. One was stolen and the new one was very shortly thereafter rammed. Well, the Triangle has struck again, and this time the victim was my dear sweet Zoë car. Look:
Perhaps it serves me right for attaching great meaning to an inanimate object, but this car is the first major purchase I ever made. I don't have a house, I don't even have my own rental property... I'm living on my friend's couch, so this car really does mean a lot to me. Le sigh. Still waiting to hear if it's a write off or not and I don't know what's worse. They might try to put me in a 2012 Accent... and those things are just mean. I have evidence:
So much aggression for one tiny car. Also, they're 6-speeds now... I don't want a 6 speed. The gears are so short it's annoying.
No. I want my 2010. They make much better friends:
Sigh. Keep your fingers crossed for the Zoë car.
On the bright side, I had a super awesome day of shirking all responsibility while dealing with various annoying entities. After a sleepless night I arrived at Enterprise at the crack of dawn (7:30am) to pick up my rental, only to be told that my license had expired. Whoops. Well, never fear, I was told. A lovely young man named Bryan will drive you around all morning fixing your life. I thought that was a sweet deal. When we arrived at the MTO it was pretty much chaos because their computers were broken and apparently MTO employees can't count. Anyways, it dawned on me as I sat there with a bunch of really angry people that I was going to have my pic taken for my new driver's license. After a sleepless night and an "Oh crap, they're here to pick me up and I'm not dressed or showered yet" moment, this was not a happy thought. I mean, I have to look like that for five years. I created a dramatic re-enactment of what my photo will look like for you:
Yeah. So not pretty... but that's what happens when I haven't had time to prepare. Don't people know that girls need at least 24 hours notice for driver's license renewals? I mean, I didn't even have time to push my tits up to my neck, put on my make up and spend a minimum of 5 hours practicing my Liv Tyler/Duck face in the mirror. Here is what I would have looked like with advanced warning:
I mean seriously. How do you get out of speeding tickets by looking like you want to tell the cop to fuck off? It's all about the socks in the bra.
Just kidding. I just wanted to talk about boobs again. It draws traffic and this post is pure crap so I have to pull all the stops.
I could have also gone with the spelling 'nehar'. It would have looked better following nefarious, but the meaning of nehar isn't as wonderful. A Nehar is a fish. So a Nefarious Nehar Nehar would look something like the guy to the right of the page. Not an attractive mascot. 
