I don't like FML stories. I think it's ridiculous that people have that much fun at other people's expense and even when the going gets tough in my life, I refuse to say it needs fucking.

But I must say, that I have a little story for you all that is probably of the FML caliber. Not that I will ever say it is, because like I said, I don't believe in that stuff.

Let's start off by saying I'm from a really small town. Everyone knows everyone, I graduated from High School with about 48 classmates, all of whom I know more than I care to. When we move to other cities, such as this particular college town, there's a ridiculous tendency for us to all stick together. While I consider myself rather detached, I still know exactly who from home is here in town with me and who has what going on in their lives.

Anyway, the story. My RA (and good friend) texted me this morning and said, "I just stood behind 3 kids from your home town. One of them had a track jacket I've seen you wear before."

I laughed and texted her back, "I can probably tell you exactly who they are."

Sure enough, I get back from classes, and based off her physical descriptions, I was able to identify 2 of the 3 kids immediately. The third one, a boy, however, was a little tricky. There were about 3 guys that had potential and I could not think of a way to narrow it down. Suddenly, my friend says,

"Oh wait! The boy was telling a story. Apparently on Friday night he got drunk and a friend of his offered to drive him home. But she backed his car into a telephone pole and busted out the back glass and everything! He was so pissed."

...I  backed my friend's car into the telephone pole on Friday night.

I've felt bad enough about the whole thing (and yeah, I'm paying for it too), and now, sheesh.

At least my friend knew not to tell our fellow classmates my name. Although I'm sure my entire hometown will know soon enough.

I refuse to say FML. It's not even my car.