UPDATE on It’s Not the Apocalypse, People… Or Is It?

Just as an update to last night's post...

Apparently, my traumatic experience was nothing compared to some other people's.  My boss didn't get home until 1 am.  My... whatever he is didn't get home until 3:45 am.  He spent EIGHT HOURS trying to get home.  OMG.  He said people had just abandoned cars all over the place.  That's INSANE.  Come on, people.  Gotta be smarter than that.

My ex-boyfriend's boss/good friend picked me up as scheduled this morning, and we were delighted to see my car was exactly where I'd left it in that parking lot.  (Ok, so I kind of abandoned my car, too... but I did it in a parking lot, not in the middle of the interstate.  TOTALLY different.)  It took me forever and a day to get in to work because traffic was inexplicably awful, but it was an uneventful drive.  YAY!  A little bit into this drive, I learned the county wasn't opening until noon.  I made it to work 2 hrs and 20 min early.  Whomp whomp.

Also?  The Salters were their typical selves sometime between when I got home last night and when I left my house this morning.  Their stairs, sidewalk, and all around their cars was bone dry, and there was salt everywhere.  It was so dramatically dry that my ex-boyfriend's boss/good friend totally noticed and commented.  I explained that was just how they rolled.  I was a little worried about them after the dusting we had last Saturday because I didn't see one spec of salt.  Good to see they're back to their old ways.

It’s Not the Apocalypse, People… Or Is It?

I had plans after work tonight that I’ve been looking forward to for a few weeks… I was just getting together with a few Nats fans to enjoy life, talk baseball, and have an adult beverage or two.  This morning, I saw that some snow was expected in the area this evening, but from what I read, I really just thought it would be a few flurries and that would be it.

After work, I headed in the direction of my get together, and stopped at Target and Petsmart on the way to grab a few things for the snow this weekend.  I’m horrible, and I generally don’t have food in the house, so when I see that I’ll be trapped and I won’t be able to order anything, I have to go shopping for just a few essentials.

I picked up another box of Sudafed (and got myself one step closer to being on a DEA watch list), then thought peanut butter sandwiches would be a simple quick thing I could throw together this weekend.  I turned down the bread aisle, and BAM: 

Apparently the apocalypse is coming, and I missed the memo.  Really, people??  REALLY?!  Yes, a lot of snow is coming, but we’re all likely to just be trapped in our homes for the weekend.  Snow is supposed to stop Saturday night/Sunday morning, leaving all day Sunday to clean up.  Unless you live in the middle of nowhere (in which case, you’re not shopping at this Target), you should be able to move about on Monday.  There is NO REASON all the bread should be gone.  We’re not having to bunker in some kind of make shift nuclear fallout shelters.  It’s two days.  Come on.

I did manage to find some good bread (it was on sale through cartwheel, too!), and got the rest of my items without any problems.  Then I ran next door and picked up some dog food and a rawhide for Coop for the weekend, and I headed out to my get together.

I noticed after wresting almost 40 lbs of dog food into my car that it had started snowing.  I didn’t think much of it, since I thought it was just going to blow through.  But after about 15 minutes, I saw that it was starting to pile up on the road in between the lanes.  Hmmm.  That seemed… alarmingly fast.  I looked up Capital Weather Gang, who are the only people I read when it comes to snow, and I learned that I was completely wrong about this evening’s “flurries.”  A winter weather advisory was in effect, and shit was potentially going to get real.  Um.  Crap.

I was literally in no man’s land in terms of trying to get home.  I notified my group that I wasn’t going to be able to make it, and headed towards the interstate.  FOUR HOURS LATER, I finally made it home.  I slid all over the road on numerous occasions, almost cried at least three different times, and pretty much thought I was going to die.  Apparently, the apocalypse is happening, and it showed up 2 days early.  Admittedly, I don’t handle snow well, and I definitely don’t drive in it, so this was a horrific experience from start to finish.  The worst part?  I didn’t actually make it all the way home.  Once I got off the interstate near my house, I really started sliding around, and I got too scared to drive anymore.  I ended up having to call my ex-boyfriend’s boss/good friend and asked him to come rescue me.

My ex-boyfriend’s boss/good friend.

Yup.

He’s super nice and lives close to me, so he came and picked me up and took me home.  He’s very sweetly also taking me back to my car in the morning, too.  So, thank God for ex-boyfriend’s bosses/good friends…. However weird it is when you have to call them asking for help.  They’re certainly preferable to calling your ex-boyfriend, which would only be slightly less horrible than dying in a snow related crash.

Knowledge Drop: Netflix and Chill

Wait.  Wait wait wait wait.  “Netflix and chill” doesn’t mean binge watch Netflix and chill?  What?!  How is this possible?  HOW IS THIS BRAND NEW INFORMATION?!

Here I was…. Casually going about my evening, watching UVA try to put out the dumpster fire that was their last two basketball games, and I got a facebook group message from some baseball friends with this article and a twitter message from my favorite (former L ) Nats bullpen guy Drew Storen:

Guessing we won't be able to use the in-laws Netflix password anymore.

— Drew Storen (@DrewStoren) January 13, 2016

The other ladies in the group message were laughing and saying they thought “chill” meant… chill.  I was a late comer to this conversation, so as I was reading everyone’s comments to catch up, I found myself confused, wondering what they were talking about.  Slowly, I began to think wait… does Netflix and chill means something other than…. Netflix and chill?!  Surely not…. Right?

So I read the article, and found myself face to face with the horrifying realization that Netflix and chill really doesn’t mean binge watch tv and chill out.  Omg.  OMG.  I checked with two friends, who just laughed at me and my ridiculous lack of knowledge.

I now find myself feeling both horrified (because I know I’ve used this phrase before, but I can’t think of when or to who), and feeling like I’m about 80 years old, and, honestly? I can’t decide which feeling is worse.

Throwback: That Time I Fell Into the Hidden Lake

Bad luck and crazy "how on earth could this actually be happening" stuff is nothing new, so I figure I'll sprinkle some throwback posts in now and again with past ridiculousness, because... who doesn't love reliving awful, horrible things?

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So, I’m fairly accident prone (understatement).  I’ve sprained both my ankles numerous times, and I’m fairly certain I’m missing ligaments in both of them.  While I couldn’t really walk in heels before, now I can’t even really stand in them.

One day, several years ago, I had one of my most epic falls.  It was pouring rain, and I was at work going to pick up a car from carpool.  Given the heavy rain, and my propensity to melt when I get wet (I am made of sugar…..), I ran from the car into the building.  Unfortunately, the area in front of the door is painted concrete.  For those of yall who are unaware, painted concrete is very very slippery when wet.  So there I am, attempting to dart into the building.  I hit that painted concrete in my flip flops and BAM! down I go.  I quickly got up, as an audience witnessed my horribly embarrassing moment, and I wanted to show them that I was totally fine.

As I got into the building, the wet started to quickly set in.  While I had simply fallen on a flat surface, my jeans were soaked to the pointed where I was fairly sure I’d fallen into a hidden lake that no one could actually see.  All down my left leg, and the left side of my ass were completely saturated, at a level where I began to waddle.  I popped into the bathroom hoping the “green” focus of my employer would mean there was a hand dryer instead of paper towels, figuring I could just sort of stick my ass up under the dryer for a bit.  No such luck.

I waddled downstairs to pick up a car.  The carpool guy could tell something was wrong, so I told him I fell and my pants were soaked.  He politely listened to my story and suggested I go home to change.  Not happening, as I live 25 miles from work, and traffic getting back would take me at least an hour and a half.  As I walked away with a key to an environmentally friendly prius, the carpool guy was able to see the full extent of my situation.  I heard hysterical laughter (the first, but not the only time related to this incident), and turned to see him doubled over as he gestured towards my extremely wet pants.  Glad I could make his day better.

I waddled downstairs into the bowels of the garage to the car.  Thinking of nothing but my strong desire to have dry jeans, an idea popped into my head.  I struck out with the hand dryer in the bathroom, but there is a heater and vents in the car.  DING!  Brilliant!

The cars are located in what can only be described as a terrifying garage, full of tight spaces and not enough room for two cars to pass each other.  This car was tucked away in its own parking spot with some not quite waist high walls around it.  I unlocked the car, took a quick look around, and peeled my wet jeans off.  In the car, I turned on the heater and fan on full blast, and spread my jeans out over the dash in a desperate attempt to dry them.

…….

…………….

What felt like EONS had gone by while I sat sans pants in the car.  They’ve GOT to be better, right?!  They have to be.  This was a brilliant idea.  Right?

I took another look around, and snuck out of the car, as I couldnt shimmy into my jeans while sitting in the tight confines of the driver’s seat of a prius.  I was quickly met with the horrible, cold, sopping wet, clammy feeling of jeans that had in no way dried.  Not so much the brilliant idea.

Now I’m more uncomfortable than I was to begin with… a feeling that only increased as I sat back down in the car.  I drove back to the office, and painstakingly got out of the car to run through the parking lot into the building, as it was still pouring rain.  I’m now covered in old, clammy wet AND fresh, just fell from the sky wet.

I walked into the building looking like a drowned rat – wet hair, wet shirt, SOAKED left side of my jeans, only to be met with the hysterical laughter of my coworkers.  I then told the above story, which they couldn’t get enough of.

To make matters worse?  About 20 minutes after I got back to the office, a well-meaning coworker excitedly told me we had a dryer, so she could fix my pants.  GREAT!  Only, I don’t have any other pants to wear while mine dry.  So…. Yeah.

I swear this kind of stuff only happens to me.

There Seriously Must Be Crack in the Air at Target

I skipped off to Target after work to finally pick up my needed Sudafed (and likely get one step closer to getting on some kind of federal watch list).  This was a simple $4 purchase at the pharmacy and should have been an easy in and out at Target.

But it’s never an easy in and out at Target, is it?

Since shopping is my cardio (legit – my fitbit is always smiling at me when I’m shopping.  This smile is a rare occurrence), I wandered around Target from one side to the other, up and down almost every aisle because, well, it’s Target. I turned a corner and found myself face to face with this:

I was overcome with an immensely strong feeling of I MUST HAVE THIS.  I’m not entirely sure why, but, I mean, look at it.  It’s awesome.  The price, however, seemed slightly high for a porcelain rhino head, so, I very begrudgingly walked away.  It almost killed me, but I did it.

Then I walked past this gem:

If this was Mikey, he totally would have come home with me.  No joke.  Who doesn’t need a giant teenaged mutant ninja turtle?!

I managed to make it to the checkout with just one normal grown up item in my basket, and my already purchased Sudafed.  Borning.  Adulting – it’s seriously no fun.

The woman in front of me pulled four (FOUR!) 10ish lb spiral cut hams out of her cart and plops them on the checkout belt with a few other items.  She became extremely agitated when her hams were rung up:

Crazy Ham Lady:  Um.  No no.  Wait.  Those are supposed to be $6.99.  The entire bar all the way across where they were said $6.99.

[how the hell can a 10lb spiral cut ham only be $6.99?!]

Cashier:  Um. Ok. They’re ringing up for about $20 each. [flips call light on]

Manager:  What’s the problem?  These are $1.99/lb.

CHL:  These were advertised at $6.99.  I’m paying the advertised price.  The whole bar all the way across said they were $6.99.

Manager:  [holding back laughter] I can’t sell you these for $6.99.  He’s going to check on the sign.

CHL:  Oh yes you will sell them for the advertised price.  I’m paying the advertised price.

Manager:  These are $1.99/lb.  I’m going to go look at the sign. [starts walking away]

CHL:  well, I took a picture of it.  Don’t you think you can just go change it now.

They cleared out CHL’s stuff because she said she wasn’t going to buy anything if she wasn’t going to get the advertised price on her 40lbs of ham.  She stood to the side and waited, and I was able to check out.  Truth?  I was a little sad they bypassed her because I kind of wanted to see how this hot mess was going to end.

I bought my rational and sane purchase, and went out to my car.  After sitting for just a minute, curiosity got the best of me and I went back in and wandered over to the grocery section.

There were 3 different price tags on the ‘bar’ CHL spoke of where the ham was.  Only one of the tags was for $6.99, and it was very clearly labeled as the cost of the chicken breast.  WTF.

Since I was back in the store, I had to go look at the rhino head again.  I texted a few friends.  One asked me if it matched my motif at home.  Um.  Could this possibly match anyone’s motif?!  No, of course not.  But, that should have zero bearing on this discussion.  Another friend told me that she felt very strongly that I needed this rhino head in my life.

Now? The more I sit around and think about it, the more I want it.  I am kinda starting to feel like this rhino head is everything I never knew I needed in my life.  I’ve even asked the google what I should name my rhino.  Brutus came up, which is what had first popped into my head.  But then I found the suggestion Luther Francisco.  I kind of really love this.

I feel it’s probably a bad sign that I’m asking the google for name options for a porcelain rhino head…  and I’m wondering if there is a way I can get to this hang on my cube wall at work.

How Long Would It Take To Get On An DEA Watch List?

My asthma has been flared up for a bit, and I’ve been taking handfuls of drugs to try and manage it.  Included in this cocktail is Sudafed.  The good kind from behind the pharmacy counter where you have to show them your ID and get put on the list of Sudafed purchasers.

When I bought my second box exactly 10 days after the first (box of 20, 12 hr pills…), I found myself wondering just how many boxes of Sudafed does one have to buy (one at a time, of course) before red flags come up in the system.  I’m curious on a level where I almost want to purchase a box roughly every 10 days whether I need it or not and just see what happens.  This is probably the worst idea in the history of ever, but…. A life full of good decisions isn’t always particularly fun, is it?

Doctors are Ridiculous

Another day, another bad experience in a doctor's office waiting room.  I seriously don't get why they get to be such delicate geniuses, and the rest of us have to bend to their will.  I get that they went to med school and all, which isn't easy, but I have a life and things I need to accomplish as well.

I took a client to the doctor today, and we were kept in the waiting room for over an hour.  (!!!)  This was the exchange I had with the woman sitting at the front desk:

Me:  hi.  our appointment was an hour ago.
Front Desk Bitch:  yup. [blank stare]
Me:  ....
FDB:  [blank stare]
Me:  .... you're running that far behind?
FDB:  yup.
Me:  ....
FDB:  [blank stare]
Me:  ....do you have an eta?
FDB:  nope. [blank stare]

So.  Yeah.  Great.  THANKS!  No apology for how late they were running.  No half assed guess at when we would maybe be seen by the magical doctor.  Nothing.  Just a blank stare, and an attitude like how dare I bother her with such nonsense.

A friend told me that she will send bills to doctors for her time when this happens.  THAT IS AMAZING!  I wish I could do something like that.  I definitely couldn't get away with it when it's work related, but I'm totally going to have to try that in my own life the next time I'm kept waiting forever and a day past my appointment time.

The good news?  We were called back shortly after the wonderful exchange above happened, and we weren't kept waiting for very long in the exam room.

The bad news?  I had a brand new coworker shadowing me, and the client wasn't comfortable having her come back with us, so she had to sit in the waiting room.  Whomp whomp.