Stranger Danger | One To Nothin'

Stranger Danger

Today Shannon of Gin and Bare it is taking over the blog. This chick is the Nicki to my Paris because not only does she drink her face off on a regular basis, she also has zero filter and blogs about all the stuff I'm too scared to. So basically if you're easily offended or don't enjoy profuse F-bombs, maybe don't keep reading. However, if you're anything like me, you'll be obsessed with this chick. 

so you know how sometimes you meet someone online and you get overly twitter pated about how much the two of you would mesh in real life?  and then you read more posts and you realize you feel kind of old because while this person you’re now kind of infatuated with is having all kinds of adventures, it occurs to you that you’re done with all your adventures because you’re old.   and not because you’re so geriatric you can’t physically handle it but because you’re so lazy you just can’t even bother with getting moderately excited about any kind of adventure that doesn't involve your couch.

in honor of a girl that i’m going to just pretend is my little sister and her impending road trip i’m going to talk about the one time i was driving back from the IL to the WI (which is two whole hours depending on traffic).  on a list of all my road trips (of which there are like two.  one being to IL and the other to hot-lanta for a DMB show which included like 24 hours of driving for one day of a show) this baby road trip contains, quite possibly, the stupidest fucking thing i have ever done.

once upon a time like fours year ago my best friend in the entire world moved from MPLS to chicago for graduate school.  i don’t wish Chicago on anyone, much less my best friend, but the move meant that she would be like only two hours away from me instead of five.  so we planned things. things like trips for halloween and then other times where we traipsed around the side of chicago that kanye raps about and then listened intently at her door to the domestic disturbances of her then neighbors, and then also the times where we just holed up in her apartment and couch-drank. 

on my way from one such weekend i found myself stuck in traffic on the I-94.  if you’re at all familiar with the differences in highways between IL and WI then you’ll know that the ones in IL are shit and the ones in WI are way better.  and also that IL is the land of the oasis or the things that contain bathrooms and restaurants and they’re like straddling the highways and WI is not.  so as i sat in bumper to bumper traffic on a hot, sunday afternoon my car (stella) insisted on behaving badly.  and by badly i mean the little temperature thingy started to head dangerously high.  and then as i inched along - stella started to make odd noises and then eventually smoke started to seep out from underneath the hood.  a mechanic i am not – but i did deduce that maybe this wasn’t a good sign and that maybe i should get off at the next oasis (as i was still stuck in the land of the FIB).  so i did.  and upon arriving safely i popped the hood, put my hands on my hips, and looked at the junk under the hood of my car like i knew what the fuck i was doing.  after coming to terms with the fact that i was totally fucked – i dialed shitler.  the conversation went something like this:

me: hey, my car is fucked and i'm stuck in IL.  what should i do?
shitler: what's wrong with it?
me:  uhhh - there's a shitload of smoke coming and that's all i know.
shitler:  well, i'm going to have to just come get you and we'll have to deal with it tomorrow.
me: hang on - let me call you back.  some strangers are talking to me.

at this stage in the game a band of merry folk approached me and inquired as to whether everything was OK.  it was also at this stage in the game where i was feeling extremely agitated and had to refrain from responding with something like “does it look like everything is fucking ok?”  instead i informed them that something was wrong with my car and i wasn't sure what.  one of the gentlemen insisted on taking a look under the hood (perverts – he was referring to my car).  seeing as i didn’t have anything to lose i agreed.

**quick aside for the breakdown of this group of folks**
three men.  age 35-55.
one woman.  old hippie.

my consensus: relatively harmless.

back to the tale.
after checking things out the man told me that it was my water pump.  and it was fucked (my words, not his) and i needed a new one.  after pitching a mini inner tantrum i thanked him for his time and went to call shitler back.  before i was able to call shitler back the man offered to replace the water pump for me.  honestly – i couldn’t have been happier.  like i’m thinking “there really are good people out there.  and now it can just get over and done with here and now and i want have to drive back to this shithole state tomorrow.”  i agreed.  and for some reason just assumed that he would have a spare water pump in the back of the rape-like-van they had arrived in.  but the joke was on me and he didn’t.  the group then graciously offered to drive me to an auto parts store they knew of nearby so that i could buy a waterpump and then they could install it.

so naturally - since this raised no red flags i agreed and shot shitler a text that read:
"hey, these strangers i just met offered to drive me to a local auto parts store so i could buy a water pump and then one of the three men will install it.  don't worry.  there's a girl.  nothing will go wrong.  but in the event that it does here's the license plate number (DNGRZNE).  if you don't hear back from me in like ten minutes you should probably call the cops."  so like i had some sort of death wish and also some urge to end up on an episode of 60 minutes about an unsolved murder case i hopped in the van.  in hindsight - it wasn't one of my shining moments.  because as the time ticked by and we drove deeper into the heart of IL i realized that maybe the fact that the woman was driving and two men were seated behind me and could at any moment like put some burlap sack over my head, a cloth full of choloroform, or inflict blunt force trauma it dawned on me that this wasn't the smartest thing i could have done.  but laziness and the need to just get it the fuck over and done with had propelled me into a situation that could end up with me being possibly raped/murdered to shreds.

but fear not - we arrived at the store they promised, i bought the part i needed, and i made back to the oasis in one piece where one of the three mens installed my new water pump.  i was happy as a fly on shit and thanked the men over and over and over and turned to get in my car and GTFO out of IL.  until one of them stopped me and informed me that i owed them $450.  and i was all "excuse me what?"  because i tried to politely explain to the man that i had not been made aware that i was obligated to pay for services rendered considering the circumstances.  and considering that i had assumed these people had been doing a nice deed and that i was just going to pay it the fuck forward (kidding- i wasn't).  the group got insistent saying that if it would have happened anywhere else it would have cost me much more than that.  so i responded by reminding me that it hadn't happened anywhere else and as such it shouldn't cost me anything.  

the mens got heated.  and there was a lot of being pissed off and a lot of yelling.
so i excused myself to call shitler.  because things were getting out of hand and the only thing i could honestly focus on was getting a drink because this entire situation was just fucking whacked in the head.

upon placing the call i first got an earful about how bat-shit crazy and stupid i was and then got a second earful when i informed shitler of the turn that the events had taken.  
shitler insisted that the group could go fuck themselves and that they were only trying to financially rape me because i was all by myself in a state i didn't reside in.  
then one of the dudes started yelling at me in the other ear about contacting any family members i knew that would fucking western union the $450 i apparently owed.  at this point things had gone from bad to worse and the reality of the situation was that i didn't even HAVE $450 in my bank account to give these people.

so i complied with what shitler yelled at me to do.
which was hand them $20 and get the fuck in my car and drive home.

so as i hurriedly pulled out of the oasis because i really, really didn't want them to have my license plate number and also really, really didn't want them to follow i managed to sneak some glances of the group swearing and violently gesturing in my rear view mirror.

i guess if there were a moral to the story it would be to not ever leave your house.
or to listen to what your parents told you when you were five and not get in the car with strangers.
or that anything on a road trip will cost you $450.
so mack - heed my advice.  well, at least the second part.
because you're definitely leaving the house because you're driving across country.

also you can find me on my regular blogging schedule at
but after reading this you don't ever come to my blog - i wouldn't blame you.
i'm an idiot.

Gin and Bare It


  1. we look really good in denim.

  2. Love the face in hole! Me and my best friend used to love that show haha! I love the post! =)

  3. I totally have done shit like that before. It comes with living and growing up in small towns...


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