Step 1:

First thing you need to know in order to be me is how to have the worst possible luck out of anyone on the planet.

About two weeks ago, my car broke down. I know, I know, it happens to everyone. Not so unlucky you may say, but that's where you are wrong. Don't judge me so quickly. I know bad luck, and I have it. See, I was driving home from work and on the phone with my mom (most likely asking her for cash because I seem to always run out of this). Everything was fine and I was almost home. I was turning right onto my road when my steering wheel stops working. Yep. Stopped working. It was everything I could do to get the car to the side of the road.

I am of course yelling things into the phone at this point. The car is stopped, and it turned itself off. Finally, I regain control and begin to talk to my mother again when my phone begins to screech at me and ends my call. Hmm, thanks for hanging up mom. I try to call her back, but none of the buttons on my phone will work. The phone was broken. Yep, at the same time as my car.

Clearly, I am sure this is a terrorist attack at this point. I have A LOT of enemies so I knew it was one of them trying to kill me. Naturally, I feared for my life and did not want to exit my car. Which was a problem for me since I had not phone. After a half hour of crying and hoping someone I knew would see me and stop, I got out and went into the gas station I had stopped near.

Me: Can I use your phone? My car is broken infront of your store.
Gas Station Lady: (glares at the phone in my hand)
Me: It's broken. I know. Crazy, right? My car AND my phone broke.
Gas Station Lady: Here. (Shoves a phone at me that is covered in AIDS) You can only make local calls.
Me: WHAT?
Gas Station Lady: Only. Local. Calls.

Okay. I was really in trouble. I only knew one local number by heart: my ex-boyfriend's and he had just told me he "never wanted to see gross face again" the night before. So, he wasn't a good option, but my only option. So I called and he didn't pick up, surprise, surprise.

So, with my car still sitting on the road with the flashers on, I sprinted to my sister's apartment which was not too far, but far enough that it was hard to run there. She let me borrow her phone and I finally called someone to two me.

The next day I got the car fixed and it cost $1500. Basically my entire year's salary considering I am a waitress who tries to give all of my shifts away because I would rather live in squander than work.

Then, last night, there was a downpour in Utah. Crazy. It's the desert here. It never rains. Well, I was down on the west side of Utah Lake writing poetry and watching the clouds when the rain begins to fall. It's getting dark anyways, so I pack up, and head home. It got dark pretty damn fast, and I got lost pretty damn fast. Then the rain really started coming down. Lost. Rain. Dark. Are you picturing this? Of course the tears are coming, not in full drops, but they are burning the sides of my eyeballs.

Just when a person would think that things couldn't get worse, my driver side windshield wiper blade broke. It decided to swing all the way to the left, off of the windshield, and wipe the rain over there, in the air. So, I stopped the car and pushed it down, and it popped back up again. I had to drive while leaning over into the passenger's seat because only that wiper would work. I had to drive home on the highway like this. I almost died about 40 times.

So to recap here, if you want to be me, which you do of course, have bad luck. Have the worst luck. Ever.