my car vs. a guardrail

For anyone who THOUGHT they knew me and wasn't sure, this story will give it away. If you're TRULY my friend IRL, you've heard this.

Anyway, one night my friend Sam* and I decided to have a few drinks. Turns out she's a lightweight, so she had ONE drink and I had 2.5-ish bottles of wine (bad idea #1).

The playing field is a bit uneven, eh?

So I decided to drive myself home (bad idea #2). I was going to call my best friend Bob1 (more on his story later--he's an adventure, indeed) and just as I was saying "hello" to him, I hit a guardrail. Let me give details.

Sam's neighborhood has these HUGE metal guardrails on the sides of the road because it's on a tiny-ass hill with a creek/puddle at the bottom, so I guess the city decided that they would prevent people from falling in the oversized puddle with some SUPERSIZED metal bumpers. Only they don't "bump", per se.

It's more like a CRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNCH sound.

Followed by a SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH sound.

All of which Bob1 heard over the phone.

See, I wasn't sure he had heard it, so I quickly hung up, thinking I could escape ridicule and mocking for AT LEAST 24 hours.

Nah, he heard it. He called me back like 2 minutes later and goes, "Did you just crash your car?!"

So I gave him the rundown of the situation:

I had hit the guardrail with my passenger side door. The car was still driveable, so I just needed to secure the moulding strip back to the side of the door and all would be fine and well. I instructed him to bring the super-glue over to my house on his way home from work.

Mind you, I've had 2.5-ish bottles of wine and the super-glue in question is the smallest tube it is humanly possible to buy.

He brings said super-glue to my house. He then proceeds to watch me park my car, stare at the damage, try relentlessly to glue the mouling back to the incredibly dented door (but I don't realize it's dented that badly because it's 11:30pm and I am intoxicated), and LAUGH. He might have pissed himself--I can't be sure. I was busy "fixing" my door. Outside. In the dark. With a tube of super-glue no bigger than my pinky finger.

What a great friend. He KNEW that door wasn't getting fixed with any damn super-glue. I suppose I am just incredibly entertaining when I've been drinking.

So the next day when I'm at work he stops by. He is laughing as he walks in the door. I ask him if he could pop the "dent" out. He laughs more. We go outside and look. He continues laughing. His exact words to me:

"Your dad is going to have a heart attack when he sees this."

Yeah, thanks, I know.

(My dad is a mechanic. He is obsessed with cars. When I don't wash mine regularly, he complains.)

Seriously, can YOU picture a drunk girl at almost midnight with a TINY ASS tube of super-glue, trying to glue a car door back together without laughing??

I think not, my friend.