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Last month I told Ben I’d kill for a Volvo. Somehow the gods of fate got this confused and thought I said I wanted to be killed by a Volvo. Easy mistake.

On my way home from the country today I encountered a nasty accident on the freeway. One of those large trucks transporting cars rolled. I’m not sure how it happened, i was too busy singing along to the radio to notice that part. Wrecked cars were everywhere, but luckily I was able to avoid being hit by a speeding blue Volvo.

When everyone started getting out of their cars I called Ben. I was busy recounting the story to him when a man motioned for me to get out of my car–I hung up and got out. “Hey, I saw you on the phone, how long until the police arrive?” “Umm, I didn’t call 911. I called my brother. Dispatch operators hear this stuff all the time, and I thought he would be more impressed by the story.” He glared and me and walked away without saying a word.  Really, it’s no wonder people hate me.