I Am Not Lindsay Lohan.

I swear to God, I'm not. But I will tell you that this morning, I was rear ended again. Yes, twice in two months.

I'm fine. My car is fine. I'm mad. My car? Still serene.

Here's the lowdown (Lohan-down?): I was stopped at a red light, waiting for a break in traffic to make a right hand turn. While waiting for a spot to open up, the driver in the car behind me apparently didn't realize that there was a car in front of his, and drove into my rear end.

I am starting to think that my car might be crazy magical like Wonder Woman's invisible plane.

Anyway, the driver follows me as I turn into a nearby parking lot. He gets out of his car, apologizes, and then says, "I was looking the same way you were".

Apparently, that's supposed to explain everything.

I made him give me his insurance and contact details, and continued on to work.

Thankfully, there wasn't a scratch on the outside of my baby, and my mechanic didn't find any damage underneath.

So, yeah. Car accident post #2. I wonder, if I was Lohan, would I finally get my ass a driver, our would I continue to insist on driving myself, even though the world is trying to tell me not to.