Guest Entry

WereGirl has enjoyed the stories about her enough that she thought she'd have a go at writing one herself. I can only speculate as to why she wrote it in the third person (because she's nuts?), but she did. Anyway, here it is for your enjoyment.

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A long long time ago, in a land far far away (well ok, maybe not that far) there lived an evil monster Weregirl likes to refer to as the Provincial Offenses Office of Toronto.

The story begins some 2 and a half years ago on a cold dismal night in February. Two days after a lonely valentines day, Weregirl decided to visit her friend crochety in her west end too posh for kind people apartment on the west side of Toronto. Weregirl has a nasty habit of forgetting to put gas in her car, and this night was no different. She heard the echo of her gas guage as it reached empty and she thought to herself, "ahhh...no big deal, I have enough gas to get there and
back...this car has made longer trips on empty before." Yes, despite the fact that Weregirl is aware of her ridiculously bad luck, she still enjoys tempting her arch rival the Fate God, and yes, the Fate God beats her every time! So, Weregirl passed three gas stations on her way to Crochety's house, and spent some 'not so quality time' with Crochety until the wee hours of the morning. Upon her return, Weregirl's car began to lurch...no problem she thought "I'll just put the car in neutral and coast down the hill on lakeshore to the gas station on the other side." So, Weregirl put this brilliant plan in motion, stomped her foot heavily on the clutch, and shifted into neutral. At the time, Weregirl was travelling at a modest speed, however her car quickly accelerated down the hill and in no time she was travelling 30 kilometres above the speed limit. "Wow, this is great" she thought, "at
this speed, I'll be able to make it to the gas station with fumes to spare!!!" Unfortunately for Weregirl, the Fate God wasn't impressed with having been tempted twice in one night, so he decided to retaliate against Weregirl. Just as Weregirl rounded the bend and approached the gas station she saw the twinkle of starlight in her rearview mirror, followed by the colours of the star spangled banner...yep, that's right, the police had clocked her going 30 km over the speed limit at 2 o'clock in the morning, with not a car in sight but hers.

"Are you aware of how fast you were going ma'am?" exclaimed the officer better known as "Chip".

"No officer" Weregirl sheepishly responded.

"Well is there any reason that you were travelling 30 Kilometres over the speed limit ma'am?"

"Actually...." she paused... "I'm out of gas and..." she began to explain, however, Chip's eyes grew thin as he scowled at her lame excuse..."no, really look" Weregirl pointed to her gas guage that was reading below the empty line.

"Yes ma'am, I see that, however your car is off, all cars read empty when they're off, let me see your license and ownership please."

"Honestly officer, its empty" she exclaimed as she turned the ignition key to once again start the car. Weregirl is actually brutally honest, and so although her explanations are often beyond comprehensible, she never softens the truth, no matter how dumb it makes her look and sound; this time, she was cracking the scales on the dense-o-meter. She proceeded to beg the officer to once again poke his head into her car to examine her gas guage. Reluctantly, he did so, and as the Fate God
would have it, she indeed was almost completely out of gas. Chip unfortunately was not overly impressed with Weregirl's stupidity and reiterated his request for her license, ownership and registration.

Weregirl began fumbling around trying to find her paperwork. Naturally, this was no small task. Weregirl has enough clutter in her glove compartment to send Martha Stewart and all of her wanna be compulsively organized cronies to the looney bin for good. Needless to say, Weregirl was not able to produce all of her paperwork and sure enough, more annoyed then ever, Chip left the car in a huff. He returned to her car with 3 tickets, one for each piece of paperwork that she was missing and one for her expired plate sticker. (If you are doing the math right now, as shocking as it sounds Weregirl actually had her driver's license on her for once, so 3 tickets was all she got.)

The officer reminded her that she was lucky her story panned out and that she actually was coasting down the hill to save gas, otherwise he would have given her a speeding ticket as well, however he decided this time to let her off with a warning to slow down. Weregirl thanked him and Chip bid her A Dieu. As Weregirl watched the police car pull out from behind her and speed away, her car began to sputter. Sure enough she had been idling since Chip reluctantly poked his head into her
window for the second time. Weregirl listened closely to the sounds of the Fate God chanting his victory song "put, put, sputter, put, put" the car moved 4 feet and then died. The Fate God had won again. Weregirl was left alone and deserted on lakeshore boulevard with nothing but 3 tickets, a cell phone with a dead battery (yep, she always forgets to charge her phone) and a horribly cluttered and immobile car on the side of Lakeshore Boulevard.

Tune in next time to read what happens when Weregirl tries to fight the tickets at the Provincial Offenses office...

Mistaken Identity in the Dryer

Before leaving for her summer job last week, WereGirl did a humongous amount of laundry here. (I have a washer and dryer, she doesn't, so she sometimes does laundry here). WereGirl has enough clothes for about 5 girls, or (with some suitable substitutions) 87 guys. I know this because I helped her pack last time she moved. The bags of clothes completely filled the bed of a full size pick up truck. Completely, as in no more would fit and it's entirely possible that one or two fell out. I counted them at the time, and I remember it being an impressive number, but it has long since faded from my mind.

Consequently, WereGirl doesn't need to do laundry very often, but when she does it's a major production. She also tends to start and not finish, so I usually have a load of two of her clothes stowed somewhere. This time she was here every hour or so for a couple of day, bringing more dirty clothes, taking clean clothes away and putting the wet clothes in the dryer. And after all that she almost finished. Almost. When she left for her job she left a load in the dryer, but this is the smallest amount of WereGirl's clothes I've had here for a quite some time.

But the load abandoned in the dryer reminded me of one of the first loads left there a couple of years ago. At the time WereGirl had two roommates living with her. One we'll call "Miss Independence" and the other isn't important enough in this story for me to bother thinking up a clever name. Miss Independence also did laundry here now and then when she lived with WereGirl. The girl other did not. I have no idea where or even if she did laundry. Anyhow, on one of her infrequent visits, Miss Independence did a load and then completely forgot about it in the dryer. I'd just done laundry, so the load went unnoticed and unattended to for about a week.

The next weekend I left town for reasons that I no longer remember. What I do remember is that when I came home WereGirl was folding a recently finished load of laundry. I put my bag away and noticed that she had put Miss Independence's load of laundry on my bed, with a black pair of panties placed jauntily on top (which I didn't notice as having been done intentionally at first). I put the laundry in a basket and carried it back out of my room.

"Did you see the laundry on your bed?" WereGirl asked pointedly, clearly very annoyed about something.

"I did. It's actually a load Miss Independence left here." I replied.

"Oh..."

WereGirl, had obviously thought the laundry was mine. And the panties... Well, me, I can think of many reasons why I might have women's underwear in my home. I could have had a visitor since she last was there, for instance. Also, there were two girls who both did laundry at my house. These were not the sort of conclusion that WereGirl drew.

It's important to note at this point that WereGirl is a pretty small girl. She doesn't really think so, and rarely behaves that way, but she is. She's an inch or two over five feet tall and very slim. Miss Independence is a more average sized girl, and thus wears slightly larger underwear..

"Did you see the underwear?" WereGirl asked.

"Yes..."

"I have a pair like that. I thought you'd stolen them and had stretched them out by wearing them." She admitted.

WereGirl can be a little strange sometimes.