I went out last night for Dustin's birthday. Ended up meeting Buol afterwards and hitting a bar for last call. He was house-sitting and I was in no shape to drive, so I stayed. We hung out for a while then threw in Dark Crystal and didn't go to sleep. At 7 I bolted b/c I needed to meet the Direct TV guy between 8 & 12. Mike assured me that I needed to take the 405 south to the 10. Knowing nothing about this part of town, I trusted. After a few minutes, though, it just didn't feel right. I don't know the highways in this area at all, but I was sure I should've hit the 10 at that point. So I call. He looks around for a map and is unsuccessful. He says go a little farther. I pass the 710 (or whatever is the 7XX freeway). I stop trusting him and turn around. The 405 north is crammed. After 45 minutes, I'm finally back to the exit of where he's staying. I'm super tired and was able to reschedule the Direct TV guy. So I head back to the apartment to crash on the couch for a couple of hours and let the traffic thin out. (p.s. for future reference, the 10 is NORTH of the 405.)

But after about 800 calls and several knocks at the door, I give up. That bird can sleep. Faith calls. I'm bordering getting upset. You know when you're super tired and your emotions are raw? So, I tell her what is up, then get off the phone and decide to sit through traffic. An hour later I'm on the 5, almost home. But I'm feeling very dozy. So I shake my head to be more alert. Traffic was stop and go. Apparently at that exact moment, it was stop and I was go. I slam on my brand new brakes and my brand new tires screech to a halt. But not soon enough. I effing hit the car in front of me.

I'm shaking horribly when I get out to survey the damage. Luckily, I only knocked off his license plate, which was conveniently under my right rear tire. I gave him my information, and we went on our way.

This is the shittiest day. And it's not even 10:30, folks.