Call Me Heisenberg

My coworker came in this morning and said her plans for the day included going to a client's to do a bed bug check.  This is possibly the worst part of my job.  Because.  Omg.  What if I bring one of those suckers home with me?  THE HORROR.  I'd have to like... rip my house down to the studs and set everything on fire, and just start over.

[I'm not even kidding.]

Because I'm an amazingly nice person (and I wanted to make sure I'd have someone to return this favor if needed in the future... let's be honest, shall we?), I volunteered to go with her.  When she returned from carpool with a vehicle, she was all aflutter because she had been gifted a stack of full body protective suits.  She quickly put one on to model for us, and she seriously couldn't have looked funnier.  Like Walter White, only in all white, not yellow.  I'm going to have to call her Heisenberg from now on.

One coworker wasn't impressed, and didn't feel this getup would in any way assist us in checking someone's apartment while simultaneously protecting ourselves and our homes.  She, however, loved it, and was less fearful when getting all up in things at the client's place.  And me?  Well, I loved that she loved it, because all I had to do was stand back and hold a flashlight.

You owe me one, Heisenberg...

Dreaming of a North Carolina Christmas

I just got back from my first North Carolina Christmas.  And, other than the too long drive in the too small car, it wasn't too shabby.

First, the weather.  Let's talk about the weather.  Mother Nature is clearly drunk, and it was hot as molasses while I was there (although I'm told it was pretty warm here, too), and pretty damn humid.  And it rained.  Like.  Every day.  But, in the brief moments between rain, the warm weather allowed for some unexpected fun.

Beyond that, we can (mostly) sum things up into Highs and Lows

The Highs

• Family time.  Because who doesn't love that?
• Bacon at breakfast at the hotel every day.  Both me and my dog were fans of that.
• The beach.  Took Coop to the beach for the first (and second) time.  He seemed to love it.
• I learned what the shuffles gonzalez is.
• We drove through a blow up decoration and Christmas light display at a trailer park.

The Lows

• Drunk Roger.  Oh, Drunk Roger.  I returned to the hotel one night and Drunk Roger was by the back door smoking.  The smell of booze on him far outweighed the smell of the cigarette.  Somehow, I managed to run into him MULTIPLE times after this.  Often in the early morning, and he was never without beer.
• My step dad had a run-in with some wet ground and slick leaves, and took a spill on his bike.  Ouch.  This derailed plans on Saturday.
• I just missed seeing 4 of my nephews.  They stayed with my parents for a few days, but left the morning that I arrived.  Boo.
• The hotel had a dog walking area out back.  Next to a small pond.  With a sign that said "beware of alligators" that apparently wasn't a joke.  Awesome.

The... Uncategorizable

• I realized that my parents are turning into the Seinfelds.  Quickly.

All in all, a pretty good time.

Cooper Did the Shuffles Gonzalez!

We have a family tradition that I continue to force on my parents because, well, I love it.  I’m not entirely sure how they feel about it, but… I don’t really care (sorry not sorry).  Every year for Christmas, I get them a new game so we can have some family game night fun.  I love playing games (because I’m kind of a dork) and I think I have this hope that as they continue to amass the games that I force on them year after year, Christmas game night will maybe turn into random game nights sprinkled throughout the year.

(This hasn’t really happened yet, but fingers crossed that one day it will….)

To keep with tradition, I got the Urban Dictionary game this year, and we played yesterday.  There were moments where it could have been a slightly awkward thing to be doing with my parents, but overall, it was fun. And, I learned possibly the greatest phrase I’ve ever heard:  Shuffles Gonzalez.  My immediate life goal became to somehow work this phrase into my daily life.

Luckily, I got my first opportunity today.

We took Coop to the beach for a long walk.  This was his second trip ever – we hauled ass to the beach attempting to outrun sunset on Christmas eve.  That trip was pretty short lived, as the sun did set shortly after we arrived, forcing us to leave.  Cooper seemed amazingly happy, so we planned to take him back today because the weather looked like it was actually supposed to be rain free (spoiler – it wasn’t, but it didn’t rain on our walk).

I knew Cooper would have to poop when we got there because that’s just what he does.  He gets so keyed up and excited/anxious about anything new or generally fun that it immediately impacts his GI tract.  His need was evident as soon as we stepped onto the beach.  However, he was so OMGSMELLSANDPEOPLEANDWATERTHATEWICANTDRINKANDOMGALLTHESTUFF that he wouldn’t actually take the 30 sec to stop and just go, so he shuffle Gonzalez-d his way through an hour and a half walk up and down the beach.  How do I know this?  Because he would randomly drop a small piece of poop here and there as he failed at holding it all in.  So I had to go our entire walk carrying a slightly poop-filled bag in my hand.  Awesome.

When we got off the beach and were headed back to the car, I tossed the barely used poop bag in the garbage because I wasn’t sure I’d find another trashcan between there and the car, and I knew I couldn’t just toss the bag into the backseat with me.  I went to the dog cleanup station to grab and new bag and was horrified to discover that all three bag rolls were empty.  Yeah, because it was almost 80 degrees on Christmas, and everyone and their brother was at the beach.  Awesome.

Not 45 seconds after I threw away my bag and discovered that there were no new bags to be had, Cooper gave in and finally squatted to poop.  Of course he did.  Luckily my mom had a bag in the car, but I had to stand guard by the poop and wait for her to get back.  Awesome.

BUT, despite the horror of having to stand guard over poop while a million people walked by, I got to use shuffles Gonzalez.  And Coop had a ton of fun.  Overall?  Big win.

Little Blue Box of Happiness

Why... hello there, Tiffany blue.

It's extremely rare that I ever treat myself to things... like really treat myself.  I don't get mani/pedis... I do that myself at home.  I rarely even get haircuts.  I go to baseball games (ok, a lot of baseball games...), and I got myself a partial season ticket plan last year and this year with birthday/Christmas money from my parents.  But, other than that, I never really go all out and treat myself to things.

Until today (well.... yesterday).

This year, I decided to buy myself something extra awesome.  I took the birthday and Christmas money my grandpa was kind enough send me and added the money I made unpacking items in the kitchen of a $10mil home, and I splurged.

Why?

Because sometimes, a girl just needs a little blue box.

And I couldn't be happier.

Craigslist is Amazing... Sometimes

While watching basketball with a friend, I was perusing craigslist gigs, which, let's be honest, is mostly just a collection of porn jobs.  While wading through the modeling opportunities, an offer to poop on camera (hey, I can hide my face!), and a chance to become friends with Water and Ivy and play with them on their webcam, I found a wonderfully bizarre, non-porn listing.  To unpack a kitchen.

Um... what?

Apparently, these people's unpackers hadn't shown up (that's a thing?), and they were in need of 2 people to help them unpack their kitchen, and maybe another room.  So, I bugged my friend and he eventually caved.  He looked at the area these people were located in, and said $35/hr.  Each.  I laughed and thought there was no way in hell people would pay $70/hr to have people unwrap things from boxes in their kitchen, but I sent the email.  And BAM! about 20 minutes later, we were hired and were headed off to their house.

When we got there, my first thought was holy shit, followed by well, at least the last place I'm ever going to see is freaking AH-MAZE-ING (because, ya know, craigslist... possible death....).  Seriously.  This house was out of control ridiculous.  We joined Paul, the man and cook of the house, in the kitchen, and spent just shy of 2 hrs unwrapping things from boxes and placing them on an island the size of my bed while he organized things.  I think the best part was Paul's feelings about many of the things that we unwrapped.  It was clear that Paul was a newly wed, and they were for the first time combining items in their kitchen in a real, meaningful way.

While unwrapping items, I was asked to put a few things in the sink.  This gave me my first glimpse at the view, and holy.potatoes.  I had to stop for a second to catch my breath.  Amazing view of the Potomac.  People actually get to look at this every day?!  Bananas.

After we left, we grabbed some dinner because traffic back to my friend's place was awful.  We guessed that the house cost about $10mil.  Thanks to the wonderment that is zillow, we were about right.

We stood in the kitchen of a $10mil house and unwrapped items from boxes.  There was an indoor pool on the floor below us (which isn't the bottom floor of the house).  OH.EM.GEE.

It was nice to see how the 1% lives... if even for a few minutes.

Winterfest!

For the first time ever, I decided to go to Nats Winterfest today.  Truth – I’ve never wanted to go before because tickets aren’t the cheapest, and on top of that, you have to pay for autograph session vouchers.  And those sessions are a total crap shoot as to who you are going to get, so, OBVI, you want to buy as many sessions as you can.  So now we’re looking at a pretty expensive day.  No thank you.

So what changed?  This year, I was offered tickets to the free autograph session that was reserved for the fancy season plan holders.  When this past season ended, the season plan holders that sit around me and Lulu made our new found friendship facebook official.  One of these lovely people was unable to go to this particular plan holder event, so he offered me his tickets.  Score!  Since I was going down to Winterfest anyway, I decided to get tickets to the actual even and check it all out with a friend.

This autograph session was ass early at 8:30.  How they got players to agree to this, I’ll never know.  Krissy and I exchanged a few texts about the unknown players we would be up close and personal with in just a few short hours as I was getting ready to leave my house, and I specifically said that as long as it wasn’t Bear, I’d be good.  As we anxiously stood in line for our table (there were 3 total), we saw freaking Bear walk up and sit down.  You’ve GOT to be kidding me.  On either side of him, however, was Zimm and Joe Ross, plus Charlie and Dave from the radio, so, overall, huge score.  We scoped out the other tables, and we think we ended up with the best one.  I managed to be nice to Bear (almost killed me), and enjoyed getting to talk with Zimm about UVA.  I ended up gushing all over Joe Ross, which I apologized for (ha, he told me I was embarrassing him), but I just couldn’t help myself.  I also told him to tell Rizzo that we should trade for his brother.  Because… I think we should trade for his brother.

We got to go into Winterfest itself an hour before the general riff raff (yay! for season plan holder perks!), and we listened to a Nats Q & A with Mark Lerner, Rizzo, the head marketing lady, and Dusty.  We then stood in line to try and get a photo with Espi, because Krissy has been mildly obsessed with him ever since dreaming that he was an endocrinologist.  Unfortunately, his photo time was over before we got to the front of the line, but he got sucked into conversation with two older women as soon as he left the photo booth, so we saddled up and waited for him to finish talking to them.  I was able to ask (translation – BEG) him to bring back his amazing handlebar mustache for photo day at the start of spring training.  He laughed, and told me he was going to go with his full beard.  As awesome as his beard is, it’s so not that amazing handlebar stache, so color me disappointed. 

I was able to get his autograph, and Krissy got a (blurry) picture with him (sorry about that…).  We stalked Clint around and were finally able to catch him without much of a crowd, so we scored his autograph as well, and we watched Anthony and Max square off in a pretty entertaining lip sync battle.  Anthony did an AMAZING ‘bad to the bone’ while Max showed the world that he didn’t know any of the lyrics to ‘livin on a prayer’… he still rocked it, though.  I also got to catch up with in game host Mike Ploger, managed to win a Nats yoga mat, and a chance at PNC diamond club tickets (fingers crossed!), and I got two game used balls in a grab bag for a good price (Anthony vs Teheran and Det (as a Nat) vs someone).  All in all, pretty damn good day.  Exhausting, but fun.

Too Stressed to Even Bake

Normally, I really enjoy baking, especially when I’m stressed.  I find it relaxing and a good escape from whatever is stressing me out.

Last night, however, I learned that there is apparently such a thing as too stressed out for baking.  Who knew?

I was making two double batches of some brownies that I’ve made a million times before, and I tried nine ways from Sunday to screw them up.  First, I started browning the butter and then realized that I should have pre-measured the dry ingredients.  So, while stirring butter to keep it from burning, I started measuring out sugar and cocoa powder.  Then I remembered that I was doubling the recipe, so I had to add more butter.  After getting the full amount of butter browned, I added in the cocoa powder and the sugar.  Thankfully, I decided to taste it at this point, and wow – it wasn’t good.  Why?  Because I didn’t double the sugar.  Oops.  Somehow, the rest of this batch went off without a problem, and I managed to get the brownies into the oven.  They even tasted good when it was all said and done.

Then came batch 2, and this time I had help…. From someone who was…. Compromised.  I browned the butter while telling him how much cocoa powder and sugar to measure.  After getting the butter to the right point, we mixed in the dry ingredients and found that things looked extremely dry.  Um… what?  Oh, right – because I hadn’t doubled the damn butter.  So we had to melt it in the microwave instead of browning it in a pan.  Then we tasted it, and…. There wasn’t much flavor.  Um… what?  Oh, right – because I didn’t double the cocoa powder when telling him how much to measure out.

What.a.mess.

After everything was fixed and the rest of the stuff was added, once again everything tasted good when it was all said and done.  But wow.  I swear I can bake.  Really.  I swear I can.  Apparently last night, however, I needed the supervision of a compromised individual in order to make something I’ve made a million times.  I’m going to choose to blame it on work stress.  Why?  Because that sounds a helluva lot better than I was just too stupid to double a recipe.

Major Warm Fuzzies About my Wahoos

Yesterday, I did my second activity ever with the local UVA alum association, and it was much fun.  With Justin Anderson and the Dallas Mavericks in town, we went to watch them do their thing vs the Wizards, and I did it with a hokie friend (gasp!).  I was pretty angry with Justin last year when he announced that he was leaving UVA early and declared himself eligible for the NBA draft.  I wished him well, but damn I was bitter.  I thought I’d be over it by the time this season started, but nope.  My feelings are much more subdued, but I’m still a little mad at him.  Happy for what he’s got going on, but selfishly mad.

We got to go into Verizon early to watch pre game shoot around, which was kinda cool.  Mark Cuban was front and center, which made me wonder who was managing his empire while he was traveling with his basketball team.  After shoot around, we wandered upstairs to our nosebleed seats.  I got to say hi to my Nats Park usher friend, and we randomly came across a kid’s petting zoo (!!!!).  They had silkie chickens (!!!), the largest rabbit I’ve ever seen, and a tiny adorable pig that I strongly contemplated stealing.

The game itself was …. Ok…. But only because I don’t love NBA basketball.  Justin got in the game in the first quarter, but after running into his teammate and knocking him out of the game with bruised ribs, he sat the rest of the game.  The Mavericks ended up winning, and after the game ended, we went back downstairs for a Q & A with Justin.  This was pretty awesome.  Justin is one of the nicest guys ever, and he gave me a major case of the warm fuzzies for my basketball program.  Justin spoke about how Tony stresses the importance of being good people in addition to good basketball players.  In a world filled with stories of athletes getting into trouble for terrible things, it was heartwarming to hear that Tony puts together a winning basketball program with good guys that I can be proud of both on and off the court.  So much love for him and UVA, and so happy that Justin is contributing to his team as a rookie.  After listening to him talk for a few minutes, it was hard to stay mad at him… although I do miss seeing him in orange and blue.

My First Uber Ride

No joke.  Today was my first solo Uber ride, and only my 2^nd Uber ride ever.  I only know what Uber even is because of a date last year (he's significantly older than I am and had to explain it to me).  And I only took it out of complete necessity because I needed to pick up my car from getting service, and I’m now forced to swing things on my own since my parents moved earlier today.

[Side note, my car is fixed, and it’s exactly what I thought it was.  We went ahead and replaced the ignition coil in the last cylinder, too, so hopefully something like this won’t happen again.  Knock on wood….]

It took me a minute to figure out how to actually get an Uber.  Apparently, I’m technologically impaired.  But I’ve come to accept this, and I’ve moved on.

After finally figuring it out and summoning my car, my random OMG THE WORST THING THAT COULD POSSIBLY HAPPEN WILL DEFINITELY HAPPEN anxiety set it, and I of course instantly believed that I was waiting for the man who was going to kill me to show up.  So, I took a screen shot of the guy who was coming, sent it to Lulu, and asked him to avenge me if he never heard from me again.

My Uber showed up and I reluctantly got in.  I did, after all, need to pick up my car.  About 30 seconds after I sat down and verified our destination…

Driver:  I don’t feel well.  What kind of medicine should I take?
Me:  what the fuck kind of question is that?! Um. What?
Driver:  my stomach is upset.  What kind of medicine should I take?
Me:  um.  Pepto?  Or you could ask the pharmacist for a suggestion.

He then proceeded to tell me that he doesn’t have anyone here that he can ask these kinds of questions to, because he’s from New Delhi, and that’s where his family still is.  Oh, ok.  That makes asking total strangers for medical advice completely legit.

Then, his cell phone rang, and he pulled into a parking lot to answer it.  Um.  Aren’t I paying for distance AND time?  He only parked for a half second before getting back out on the road, but he did carry on quite the conversation with a mystery person in a mystery language.  I shared this with Lulu, and he just said “that’s sketchy.”  This did nothing to alleviate my OMG THE WORST THING THAT COULD POSSIBLY HAPPEN WILL DEFINITELY HAPPEN anxiety, and I immediately began to 100% believe I was going to be sold into some kind of slavery.

After he got off the phone, my Uber driver told me his entire life story, condensed into about 7 minutes.  He moved to American to make money, and he worked as a truck driver and at a gas station before someone told him to go become an electrician.  He took that advice, and 18 months later, he found a really good job.  Now he drives The Uber in the afternoons and evenings just to keep his mind busy.  He lives with 6 other people and detailed the cost of each of his bills (rent, cell phone, food, etc).  He’s saving money so when his citizenship comes through, he can work on bringing his mom over here.  His sister is married, so he’s leaving her in New Delhi.

It was an overwhelming amount of information for what turned out to be a $9 ride.  I did make it safely to my destination, however, and it was free since it was my first ride with The Uber.  All in all, pretty good.  And none of my OMG THE WORST THING THAT COULD POSSIBLY HAPPEN WILL DEFINITELY HAPPEN anxieties came true, so, ya know, bonus.

The Universe is an Evil Bitch Sometimes

My parents are moving essentially 2 states away from me.  Tomorrow.  I’m single and don’t really have anyone else who is obligated to help me in times of need, and I’m not very good at adulting in general, so I’m kinda freaking out about all of this.  As if to drive all of this home, my car once again had engine issues today.  What a lovely way of reminding me YOU’RE ALL ALONE!

I really needed to get out of my house, so I was headed up to see Lulu.  I stopped at 7-11 to get coffee, and as I was pulling out to head toward Lulu I felt a horrible, all too familiar rumble.  It’s like I was suddenly sitting in a nascar… in my tiny car with a 4 cylinder lawn mower engine.  I knew what was coming.  I looked at my dash, and yup.  The check engine light came on and started flashing at me.  Awesome.  I was past the point of no return, so I had to finish pulling out onto the main road and drive down to the next gas station.  Terrifying.  I turned the car off, waited, and turned it back on.  Last time, this magically fixed everything so I could at least drive it.  This time?  Not so much.  Of course not.  Thank God my parents are still around, and thank God they’re not planning on taking my mom’s car with them tomorrow.  They came and picked me up so I could get her car, and then I headed back to the gas station to deal with this mess.

The tow truck cost me $175 to go about 15 minutes up the road.  Are you kidding me?!  The guy told me it was because of bad traffic when he gave me the quote on the phone.  We ended up dealing with no traffic, but the tow truck driver charged me the quote I had been given over the phone anyway.  Note to self – don’t use this tow company again.

At least I currently have a car to drive around and a way to get to work tomorrow.  I guess I’ll figure out how to actually pick up my car when that time comes… hopefully at some point tomorrow.

YAY! for adulting!

:-/

....For fun background information, this is the third time this has happened to me.  The first time, I was in Charlottesville.  On a Sunday. (Although I was headed back from Lynchburg, so it could have been so much worse.)  The second time I was at my house attempting to go to Lulu's.  Turning the car off and back on somehow fixed everything, so I was at least able to drive it to the repair place, but... not awesome.  That was also on a Sunday.  Today is Sunday.  Hmmm.

The last two times, it's been a misfire in one of the cylinders, and they've replaced the ignition coil.  I'm betting its that same issue in one of the two remaining cylinders.  At least that's hopefully what it is.  Not like that's an awesome issue to have, but at least I know what I'm dealing with.  Fingers crossed...

My Parents Have No Idea When My Birthday Is

When planning out my birthday week, which ended up going horribly awry nine different ways from Sunday, I had plans on my actual birthday in the evening with my parents for dinner and birthday cake.  We discussed it the week before, and everything was all set and good to go.

Until

I spoke with my mom Tuesday last week, and she said everything was all set for Thursday. 

Me:  but… my birthday’s on Friday.
Mom:  what?  No, everything is set for Thursday.
Me:  ok… but that’s the day before my birthday.  And I have plans that night.
Mom:  but I told the cake people we’d pick the cake up on Thursday.  We’re going out of town on Friday morning.
Me:  ok.  Well.  Friday is my birthday.  I knew you didn’t know what year I was born in, but really? The day now, too?
Mom:  I know when your birthday is.  I just thought Thursday was the 20^th.

This delayed birthday celebrations until today.  (In an amazing twist of fate, my plans for Thursday fell through, but that’s neither here nor there.)  We went out to dinner, and then returned to my parents’ house for birthday cake.  Birthday cake is by far the best part of the birthday celebration.  Not because cake in general is delicious, but because of a tradition that randomly got started many years ago.  I get a child’s themed birthday cake every year.  The rules are simple.  No repeated themes (this was lost on my mom one year, and she requested the exact same cake 2 yrs in a row), and there must be some kind of keepsake toy (this, too, was not followed one year).  The theme is always a surprise, and I eagerly await learning what it is.  In the past, I’ve had Blues Clues, Care Bears, Cars (technically, Cars 2), Happy Feet, My Little Pony (twice), Barbie (the year of no keepsake toy), and Finding Nemo.  Finding Nemo was last year, and I was a little concerned my mom wouldn’t be able to top that.  Then I saw this year’s.

ANGRY BIRDS.

Amazing.  There was a catapult, a red bird, a yellow bird, and a stand up structure with some pigs.  Too awesome.

So, even though they weren’t sure when my birthday actually was, they got major bonus points for the cake, and it was worth the wait.

Side Story:  I meant what I said to my mom about her not knowing what year I was born.  She legit doesn’t… or at least didn’t for a fairly lengthy period of time.  When I was a senior in high school, she filled out a credit card application for me to get a card in case of emergencies, and to use when I got to UVA.  She put the wrong birth year on that application, which made it difficult for me to communicate with the credit card company, as I always had trouble verifying my birthday when trying to prove I was really me on the phone. Ya know, because I kept telling them my actual year of birth, which didn’t match their records.  She aged me by 2 years.  Not awesome, mom.  This year, when putting candles on the cake, she shorted me some.  This mistake is much more preferred, although still.  Come on.  Really?

I'm Never Living Down This (non) Jersey Sniffing Thing

Yesterday while out wine tasting, a friend called me with the following story:

I was at the gym and ran into someone I haven't seen in a while.  We started talking and he told me he works in marketing with the Nationals.  I asked him if he goes to games, and he said he goes to about 80% of home games.  I started to ask him if he was at the game where a girl won a signed jersey and he interrupted me and said THE GIRL WHO SNIFFED IT?!  DO YOU KNOW HER?!

So.  Yeah.  Apparently I remain famous around Nats Park for looking like I sniffed a jersey, even though I DIDN'T SNIFF IT.  I of course asked my friend if he clarified that I did not, in fact, sniff the jersey, and he responded with "why would I lie? We all know you sniffed it."

Seriously - I DIDN'T SNIFF IT.  I swear.

Wine Tasting is Fun

I went wine tasting today for my birthday with a few friends... and two random Canadians.

[Side note:  don't ever call people from Newfoundland Canadian.  They get very upset.]

We hit up numerous vineyards in Loudoun... some new, some old favorites.  All in all, we went to 5 different places, and I managed to (mostly) keep it together.

We did make a random pit stop at a little store that had alpacas out front.  I was a bit obsessed with the alpacas, and totally wanted to play with them.  Yuro was confused when we stopped and repeatedly asked "is this a vineyard? can you get wine from alpacas?"  The store owner quickly came outside to manage the group of drunkies trying to play with her animals.  Lulu bought something in the store to try and smooth everything over.

At the last vineyard, which is a favorite because they offer a chocolate pairing with their wine tasting (YUM!), the musician that was there for the day noticed my birthday tiara, and led everyone in signing "happy birthday" to me, and then sang "Friends in Low Places."  That was pretty fun.

All in all, great day.  Much wine was had.  Good times with friends.  I got a photo of myself with a bottle of wine and a Loudoun County sheriff vehicle.  Probably not the best photo decision I've ever made, but I love it.

Birthday Week Shenanigans

I had high expectations for my birthday week.  It was going to be filled with sports (and wins), fun with friends, the Nats, dinner, and birthday cake.  Much of this… didn’t work out.

As we know, the UVA vs GW game didn’t so much go as expected.  Wednesday, I wasn’t feeling well and stayed home from work and slept in.  When I got up in the afternoon to run out and get some juice, my car wouldn’t start.  One jump, trip to advanced auto, and $120 later, I had a new battery.  Just what every girl wants for her birthday!

I had plans to go to the Caps game on Thursday on a date, and was teased with the idea that I might get to meet Karl Alzner.  Amazing, right?  After making these plans, I was offered tickets (that included free beer!) to that very same game from a friend, which I turned down, obviously, because I was already going to that game.  The day of?  Everything fell through.  No date.  No Karl Alzner.  No tickets with a friend that included free beer.  Whomp whomp.

Oh, and there was that whole being trapped in a bathroom thing.

My family plans for my birthday night fell through (more on this later).  So all I had left was my Nats Park tour.

I scheduled this tour weeks ago, and I’ve been super excited about it.  What better way to spend my birthday than at my favorite place??  Everyone at work was going on a cruise on the Potomac, so I scheduled to work half a day, figuring I could get some paperwork done in the peace and quiet, and, if needed, I could help put out any fires or deal with any emergencies that arose (as they always tend to do on Fridays).

What actually happened this morning was nothing like I’d planned.  Thanks to… thorns in my side, my morning ended up being extremely frazzled and frantic, and I scrambled to cram 7 hours worth of stuff into about 4 hours of time.  My beyond wonderful coworkers attempted to do several very sweet things for my birthday, but I wasn’t around for any of it.  I got a text from one coworker with a picture of some donuts from Sugar Shack, saying she had brought some goodies for my birthday, but I wasn’t there to enjoy them, so a picture would have to do.  She was very kind and put a red velvet donut on my desk to make sure it was saved for me.  (Have you had a red velvet donut from Sugar Shack?!  Seriously…. It’s a life changing experience.  I’m not joking.  Life.Changing.)  When I finally made it back to my desk for about 25 minutes before having to run out the door to do something else, I found the delicious donut on my desk, along with a cup of coffee another coworker had brought in for me.  Luckily, it was still warm, and it was MUCH needed.  They’d also hung up several birthday signs around my cubicle.  It’s great working with such wonderful people.

After finishing up the rest of what I needed to do, I finally got to skip off to the ballpark (aka, one of my 3 happy places).  My tour ended up being me and Lulu, and a dad from out of town and his two kids.  Damn kids.  Totally stole my birthday thunder.  Stupid kids ruin everything.

The tour was still interesting.  We went into the club area, where I’ve been many times, but they talked about several pictures on the wall that I admittedly haven’t ever paid much attention to.  Interesting information.  Perhaps I should pay attention to more of the pictures in the future.  We also went into the lexus presidents club and into one of the suites.  Obviously, these are places I’ve never been, and will likely never be again.  We also got to go into the media center, which was kinda nifty.  We sat for a few minutes where press does during games, and I saw where the official scorer sits.  Hello, dream job!  Life goals – to one day sit in that seat and officially score a game.  (See also: delusional thoughts of grandeur.)  I tried to convince the tour guide to take us up one additional level so we could see where the tv broadcasters sit.  I even played the birthday card.  No such luck.  BUT, we then got to do the greatest thing of all.  We went into the Nats Clubhouse!  I WAS STANDING WHERE JAYSON GETS NAKED!!  I may have sniffed one of the chairs.  We also got to walk through the dugout and out to the bullpen.  All in all, a pretty good way to spend some time on my birthday.

While there were several disappointments this week, there were also numerous bright spots.  Did I mention I got to be where Jayson gets naked?!  I’ve got wine tasting on Sunday, and family stuff next week.  Always fun to stretch out the birthday fun as long as possible.

So… I Got Trapped In A Bathroom Today

Yep.  That’s right.  I got trapped.  In a bathroom.  What.  The.  Hell.

I was running to our weekly meeting and stopped for maybe only the 2^nd time in the bathrooms in the hallway near the nurse’s office.  Not sure why I never use these, but I can clearly never use them again.

After doing… what one does in a restroom, I attempted to leave.  Simple enough, right?  Nope.  I pulled on the handle.  It turned as it should have.  But… the door wouldn’t open.  Nothing.  I re-locked and unlocked the door several times.  Retried.  Nothing.  NOTHING.  I was officially trapped in the bathroom.  Now… this bathroom is a decent size, but suddenly, as the realization that I was trapped came crashing down on me, the walls began to close in.  Quickly.  Panic set in.  HOW CAN THIS POSSIBLY BE HAPPENING TO ME?!  It also dawned on me that I didn’t have my phone and had no way of getting any kind of help.  So I started to beat on the door and scream.  In a very frantic fashion.  Thankfully, a coworker was walking by on her way to the meeting, and she opened the door with no problem.  And then looked at me like I was an idiot because I wasn’t able to do that very same thing for myself.  I have no idea how she was so easily able to open the door when I couldn’t.  Mind boggling mystery.  But thank god she did.

Never ever again will I use these bathrooms.  For serious.  They’re clearly evil.

UVA vs GW Basketball

I haven’t seen my wahoos play basketball in person for many, many years.  When I saw they were coming up this way to play GW, and so close to my birthday, I decided I had to go to the game.  What better way to kick off my birthday week?!

Then reality hit.  The tickets were not easy to come by.  Stubhub had a healthy markup.  GW wanted you to buy season tickets (although that was eventually reduced to just a 3 game package).  I’m a poor social worker, so investing that much money up front with a hope to sell off all the other tickets was not an enjoyable thought.

So, out of desperation, I reached out to a guy I went on a date with some time last year.  This guy is a legit ticket oak and can pretty much get tickets to anything.  Plus, he works in the GW athletic department.  Score!  We went out once.  It seemed to go well.  He asked if I wanted to go out again.  Ticket oak aside, I did have a good time and legitimately was interested in going out with him again.  Save it for a text with a picture of the view from his seats at a football game, and a text with a link to a story about a guy selling his Nats NLDS game 1 PNC Diamond Club tickets in exchange for a threesome, I never heard from him again.  WTF?!

But, desperate times called for desperate measures, and several people told me to just stfu and reach out to this guy.  So I did.  The result?  Nothing.  Rude ass.

By other means, I was able to get a magical code that allowed me to buy single game tickets to the UVA game.  Tickets were so scarce that our seats weren’t even together.  Only three apart, though, so we had high hopes we could get people to shift for us.  It was going to be a great start to the week.

The day of, I met my friend at Foggy Bottom.  While waiting for him at the metro, I found another UVA fan, and we tagged along with him to a bar since we didn’t know anything in the area.  He and his brother were good people, and we had a very pleasant time over some appetizers and beer at a nifty little place before the game.

The game, however, was a different experience.  GW’s arena is… cozy.  We had seats behind one of the baskets, and I couldn’t see the baseline.  And the top of the seat in front of me may have been shoved into my legs just below my knees.  The guy in front of us was a drunk ass (although he was balanced out by the very nice GW fan next to me).  But whatevs – I was getting to see my hoos!  Sadly, we didn’t play particularly well, and we let GW dictate the game.  That is obviously a recipe for disaster, and we walked away with a big, fat L.  MAJOR sad face.

Fun night out with a friend, but an unfortunate game outcome.  Hopefully birthday week will take a turn for the better tomorrow.

Dude, Where’s My Car?

I’m somewhat obsessed with architecture (well… certain kinds of architecture), and I love wandering around with my camera and pretending like I know what the hell I’m doing with it.  So, I decided to go explore the National Cathedral today on my day off.  I went once a long time ago on a date, and I didn’t bring my camera because I knew I would want to take 23085320423092374234 pictures, and I didn’t want to look like that big of a dork (…on our first date.  If it went well, he had plenty of time to learn how much of a dork I am…).  Ever since, I’ve wanted to go back, but the behind the scenes tour that we did is only offered on weekdays.  Today seemed like an excellent day to return and take all the pictures I wanted to without judgement.

Driving in DC terrifies me, so the trip to the Cathedral was anxiety filled, to say the least (and, literally, I was on one road).  I managed to survive, parked in the garage, and excitedly ran up the stairs to the church.

I had a fantastic day.  My tour was just me and two other people, and I spent a long time when it was over wandering around the nave, small chapels, and crypt level.  Gorgeous.  Stunning.  Amazing.  I had a wonderful time walking around, and took a ton of pictures.  I went back outside and wanted to check out the gardens and get some pictures of the back of the church where the flying buttresses were free standing and different from the sides of the church (look at me with all my architectural knowledge).  It was pretty warm today, so I headed back to the garage to dump my coat, but…. I couldn’t find my car.  Like.  At all.  The entire garage when I got down the stairs looked ridiculously different, and I didn’t even have a clue where my car could be.

Um.  What?

I walked back up the stairs and looked around to make sure I hadn’t taken the wrong ones.

Nope.  Only one set of stairs leading down to the garage.  I walked down them again, and everything still looked insanely different.  Is this some kind of joke?  Did the entire garage somehow change while I was on my tour?  How long had I been inside that freaking cathedral?!  I was seriously BEYOND confused.  The garage was completely different, and my car was gone.  I sat down back upstairs in front of the church and tried to figure out wtf was going on, but didn’t really get anywhere.  I felt like I was in an episode of Seinfeld… only their problem was everything looked the same.  My problem is that everything looked different.

I eventually gave up and wandered over to the gardens.  I think I was just hoping that everything would magically fix itself when I got back.  The rose bushes were all in bloom, so there were lots of pretty flowers to take pictures of, although the strong wind make it a little difficult.  After a while, I was tired, hot (because I was still dragging my damn coat around), and feeling slightly panicked because WHERE THE HELL IS MY CAR?!

After going up and down the garage stairs at least 5 more times, I finally noticed a little door off to the side of the landing about half way down the steps.  I used that door and bam!  Everything looked familiar.  Found my car… right where I left it.   Now if only I could find Kramer and that damn air conditioner he sent down...

Seriously... I Didn't Sniff It!

As I mentioned in yesterday's post, a stadium full of Nats fans believed I sniffed a jersey that I had won (I DIDN'T SNIFF IT!)

I went to the game today, and wouldn't ya know, SEVERAL people asked me about this incident, and every single one of them believed I sniffed the jersey.  I DIDN'T!  I DIDN'T SNIFF IT!

A Day Full of Ups and Downs

Yesterday can really only be described as a day that could only happen to me.  I mean, REALLY.

First, I thought my ipod had been stolen by the place I got my car serviced.  I TORE APART my car and couldn't find it.  I ended up finding it doing another search that I thought was pointless after I got home, so... we'll skip this saga.

THE GOOD:

I got another invite from the Nats to watch batting practice from just behind the dugout.  I got to do this earlier in the year, and for whatever reason, I thought it was pretty amazingly awesome.  (This part of the stadium isn't open during BP, so I usually have to watch from the outfield.  The dugout gives you a whole different perspective, and it's amazing.  Because I'm a huge baseball nerd.)  I met my friend Gus who was able to come as my guest, and we watched the Nats take bp from up close and personal.  We learned that Matt Williams throws bp... we had no idea!  Very cool.

THE BAD:
After watching BP and then hanging out with Lulu, Gus, and my usher friend Quan, I ran to the bathroom on my way up to my seats before the game.  I set my phone down, and it fell onto the floor.  Screen SHATTERED.  The front camera lens isn't damaged, and everything still works, but it's a hot mess to try and read things.  Not awesome.

THE GOOD:

I WON A SIGNED DESI JERSEY!!!  On the way to watch BP, I stopped by the Nats Plus table where some guys were set up for people to renew their season plans.  The Nats have been giving away prizes to people who renew their plans for next year, and I wanted to make sure we were in the running, as we renewed online over the past weekend.  My conversation went as follows:

Me:  Hi!  I renewed my plan over the weekend and I just wanted to make sure I was in the running to win the season plan renewal prize thingie that yall have been doing. 

Nats Guy:  Hold on. [makes phone call]
On phone:  Do we have a winner?  Ok. 

Nats Guy:  [Very flatly] You won.  What's your phone number and account number? 

Me:  Um.  Wait.  WHAT?!

So I provided him with my phone number, account information, and seat location.  After the game started, I got a phone call from a Nats person stating they would be coming to my seats shortly.  OMG.

THE BAD:

There are no words for the bad.  Well, there are, because I'm writing about it, but seriously.  This could ONLY happen to me.  I was very anxiously awaiting Nats people to show up to give me my prize, and I was DYING to know what it was.  The Nat Pack people came, and then Mike Ploger, the in-game host, arrived.  He recognized me and laughed, as we've had several run ins this season (stories for another time).  I moved to the end of the row to make things easier for them, and he sat in the aisle, and we chatted for a few minutes.  At the break between innings, I suddenly found myself on the scoreboard, which is... well... awkward.  And embarrassing.  Mike then asked me a question, which he had given me zero warning about, and I somehow forest gumped my way through a response.  Then he handed me the signed Desi jersey.  I was sitting there looking at it while he continued to talk and it was slowly dawning on me that I won a SIGNED DESI JERSEY.  The moment suddenly became overwhelming, and I said, out loud, "HOLY CRAP."  Then I thought oh shit, I just said crap.  OH FUCK I JUST ALMOST SAID SHIT OMFG STOP ALMOST TALKING!  To prevent myself from saying any of these other terrible four letter words, I covered my mouth.  As soon as we were FINALLY off the scoreboard, Mike looked at me and said "they asked me if it smelled good," and the Nats Pack girl who was standing there was laughing and said "he didn't wear it!"  I was.... confused, as I had no idea what they were talking about.  Then it hit me.  I was holding the jersey when I had covered my mouth, so I had covered my mouth WITH THE JERSEY... which made it look like I was SNIFFING the jersey.  In front of 30,000+ people.  OH.MY.GOD.  After the game, two ladies in the bathroom came up to me and were like "you won the jersey!  AND YOU SNIFFED IT!  That's awesome, I would have sniffed it, too!"  No one believes that I didn't sniff it (I DIDN'T SNIFF IT!).  Lulu and several other friends tried to make a hashtag related to this happen.  OMG.

This would seriously only happen to me.

More Name Calling

My previously mentioned client?  Yeah, he continues to not do well.  And he continues to be angry that I'm attempting to get him back on a good path.  Damn I'm a bitch.

So, I found myself back at his place.  With a coworker, because he doesn't really want to see or talk to me.  Unaware that I was present, he told my coworker:

Erika is a wench.

This might be my most favorite insult ever hurled at me.  Wench.  Who says that?  I mean, really?!  Wench!  I think I'm supposed to be upset by this, but I can't really bring myself to muster those feelings.  I'm really more amused than anything else.

He definitely gets points for creativity.

Work is Fun

So, my job is.... well, difficult at times.  I work with difficult people that often find themselves in difficult situations.  I often believe that if all my clients like me all of the time, I'm not doing my job right.  I'm the one that's supposed to push them when they don't want to be pushed.  I'm the one that's supposed to point out that perhaps the decisions they're making aren't the best, and maybe, just maybe, they should consider some alternatives.  This doesn't always make me their most favorite person.

As a wonderful example of this, one of my client's has taken over as the President of my fan club.  Things aren't going .... well.  And apparently that is all my fault.  I also suck because I keep intervening in his poor decision making.  Because, ya know, I'd like him to be ok.  Or whatever.

I went over to his place unannounced to check on him.  When I arrived, he was on the phone, so I listened for a few minutes.  I was unsure who he was speaking to, but he was very obviously speaking about me.  My favorite gem from the conversation:

She is dumber than nails.

Well, there ya go.  I'm dumber than nails.

I love my job I love my job I love my job....

So... Spiders Kinda Scare Me, Yall

Last night following the baseball game, I stopped in the bathroom before heading out of the park like I usually do.  The following would only happen to me...

I shuffled into the next available stall, dreading having to peel my jeans off thanks to the excessive heat of the entire evening.  I shut and locked the door, hung up my bag, and set my phone and souvenir cup down.  Just before turning around to peel of my icky jeans, something caught my eye, and I stopped.  Dangling from the bottom of the sanitary seat cover container on the back wall was a spider.  Oh.Em.Gee.

I stood there stunned for a few seconds and attempted to rationalize this situation.  It's hot, and I'd really like to pee and head out so I can get to some air conditioning.  There's a line of people waiting for the bathroom, and I don't want to walk out of this stall to then cut in front of the next person in line to take a different one while admitting to the entire bathroom that I'm this level of crazy.  It's ok.  It's a spider that's way on the back wall.  It won't bother me.  I'm just going to turn around and quickly go to the bathroom and get out of here.  Yes, that's exactly what I'm going to do.  I'm going to turn around.... right now.  Turn around.  Ok, on three, I'm going to turn around and just get this over with.  One.  Two.  Two and a half... thre---

OMG I CAN'T TURN AROUND.  I can't turn my back on this spider.  As soon as I do, IT WILL JUMP ON ME AND KILL ME, and I'll be TRAPPED in this little stall PANTSLESS.  And I'll die.  Pantsless at the ballpark.  THAT CAN'T BE MY LAST MOMENT.

NOPE.

So I left the stall and ran into a new one that was much safer and spider free (I checked.  A LOT.)  Obvi.  Because had I stayed in the original stall, that spider would have jumped on me and killed me as soon as I turned my back on it.

New Era

I've worked at my job for over 6 and a half years.  Most of my coworkers have been there for well over a decade.  Our office as been at its current location for over 20 yrs.

Until today.

Yesterday, we finished packing up the entire building and said goodbye to our little corner of the world.  We've been in a little stand alone building, separate from all other services, for the entire life of my program.  We have lots of flowers and flowering trees (many of the plants are memorials for people who have come and gone in the time we've been around), get visits from all the neighborhood dogs that need some grass in order to pee, have fun wildlife (for a more urban area) like bunnies and tons of birds (including hawks!), we're in a great location near the metro and restaurants and bars, and, most importantly, we're next door to firemen.  who like to exercise outdoors when it's nice.

Today, I was a squatter at a random desk while a few coworkers assisted with the actual move.  Everyone else was smarter than I am, and took the day off.  We've moved into 4 floor building, and are now just part of one of those floors rather than being our own space.  It's... a weird feeling.  There are lots of positives, as we've long outgrown the space we had at our old building, and everything inside of it was old.  We have all new things, more space, and, while we all liked being separate, there is a lot of convenience with being so close to other services.

Monday and Tuesday are going to be extremely hectic, as we have to unpack and organize an entire program, so we can be ready to reopen on Wednesday.  Should be an experience.  Hopefully we'll all settle in soon and find more positives than negatives about our move.

How does this kind of stuff always happen to me?

My morning...

-Coop, my awesomely insane, completely neurotic dog, scratched the shit out of my leg while jumping on it rather than over it to jump off the bed.  bleeding ensued.
-While outside walking my awesomely insane, completely neurotic dog, I saw two unattended dogs at the end of the street.  I always feel compelled to help, bc that's what a decent human would do, and I would want someone to do the same for me if Cooper ever got loose.  The bigger of the two dogs ran past us up the street, but the little accessory-sized dog who was approx. 87 yrs old came over to say hello.  I somehow managed to corral him, which was quite the feat bc he was super wet, so I couldn't pick him up.  Trying to hang on to an accessory dog's collar while simultaneously walk my dog is no easy task.  This little thing surely did stick his head right in Coop's crotch when he finally tried to pee.  I got a leash on this little guy and crated mine so I could walk Chewy home.  This, of course, made Coop think I was abandoning him for the new dog, and he cried this horrible noise while I was leaving (seriously... it sounds like he's being skinned alive).  I could hear him two houses down.  While walking Chewy home, he began humping my leg, and WOULDNT STOP.  The entire walk to his place, this little shit wouldn't let go of my leg.  For such a small, old thing, his front legs are super strong.  I finally got him home and turned him over to a less than grateful girl.  You're welcome.
-This act of kindness made me late for work.
-As soon as I turned my computer on at the office, I had to call IT.  Yesterday started with two back to back IT calls, and today's issue was a repeat of issue #1 yesterday (this same thing also happened last week).  Finally, it got fixed.... at least for now.  We'll see tomorrow.
-Shortly after I finally got settled, I heard a weird noise from around the cube wall, and a coworker was wandering around yelling about needing a box.  I walked over, and a client was holding a very upset, very ugly (so ugly he was adorable) baby bird.  So, I grabbed a box and took him outside and contacted animal control.  I couldn't find a nest he had fallen out of, so I put him on the ground by some bushes near trees and hoped his parents could find him while I waited for animal control to call me back (they, of course, were closed).  This little shit ran into the street.  I rescued him and put him back, and he did it again.  AND AGAIN.  I finally got animal control on the phone, and they told me a bird of his age often falls out of his nest, and he would be fine and his parents would continue to parent him.  I mentioned that he kept running into the street, and I was told "imagine all your teenage years shoved into 3 days... smart decisions don't often happen."  I spent much of the morning watching Abner (yes, I named him.. after all that I was kind of attached) out the window, and would swear every time he ran into the street.  A coworker rescued him several times as well.

All this before 8:30 am.

Postsecret Monday

Part of my Mondays involve reading Postsecret.  I love it.  Some of them are happy, some are super sad, and some resonate with me pretty strongly.  It's a nice reminder that we're never alone.

Anyhoo... here are the two that stuck out to me this week:

From the old secrets:

And from the new secrets... to whoever this person is, I hope things are going better:

Baseball as the Away Fan - Nats vs Os

I got to be the away fan at a baseball game yesterday while supporting my team.  I LOVE being the away fan, although it always makes me miss and appreciate my home stadium.

The gay boyfriend and I made the trip to Baltimore with his dad and two friends of ours.  We had designs on tailgating with some other away fans before the game, but alas, someone before us was kicked out of the parking lot and alerted everyone that the no fun police were on patrol.  We ended up doing a little tailgating on the DL in the car after parking.  Drinking happened.  Good times were had.

We made it into Camden and found our way to the seats.... naturally, those seats were on the opposite side of the Yard from where we parked.  Most people would have found this awesome, as it gave us a chance to walk around the park.  While I find Camden to be visually appealing, I don't find it to be the amazing ballpark that the rest of the world does.  I know I'm completely in the minority on this, but... it is what it is.  It's good, but not great to me.

Anyhoo

We found our seats and settled in with a huge group of away fans.  Safety in numbers, right?  I'm pretty loud (what? my voice carries well.....) and I'm sure I was heard by many.  For the most part, we had a good time.

Except for a few bad seeds on the other side of the aisle from us.  They were drinking fairly heavily throughout the game, and were paying little attention.  I, on the other hand, was busy keeping score.  I couldn't find a place in the Yard that flashed the scoring, so I had to pay extra close attention to make sure I didn't miss anything (otherwise, my ODC would kick in and I can't function with an empty box and an unknown out....).  One of the guys in this group arbitrarily stood up at his seat and just.... stood there during an at bat.  I yelled to get his attention and nicely asked him to sit down.  Once he realized I was talking to him, he explained that he had been trying to get something out of his pocket. I explained that he was blocking our view of the plate and asked if he could please sit.  Everything seemed kosher with The Stander after our exchange, but for whatever reason, some friend of his in the row behind him took EXTREME offense to my request, and spent the rest of the game trying to start something with me.  I could see him constantly look over at me, and at one point was even making faces at me.  Seriously?  This guy was middle aged, and was possibly at the game with his kid.  (I choose to believe the child next to him was not his, but perhaps a nephew... I can't believe that someone would procreate with this man.  I just can't.)  After the game (and a victory!), another guy from this group felt the need to flip me off.  Twice.  You stay classy, Baltimore.  Charm City, indeed.

I have no problem with being targeted by the home team fans.  I'm loud, and I expect it.  During the bottom of the 9th when our closer let two people on base (ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!), some fans behind me were clearly directing their cheering in my direction.  This? is fine.  And expected.  It took all my self control not to turn around and look at them while they were doing it.  Haha.

I'm extremely hesitant to state that all fans in Baltimore are terrible.  I've only been to 2 games recently (this one, and one last year), and this was my only bad experience, which, admittedly, was pretty tame compared to things I've experienced in other sports venues.  Hopefully next year will be a totally positive experience, and the issues this year were caused by alcohol.

Side note?  My boys won that series 2-1, and we did it with half of our starters on the DL.  When they come to our house in Sept, hopefully we'll have our complete team and can get a sweep.  WINNING.

The best part of the game (besides the victory) was this super cute 104 yr old lady threw out the first pitch.  She was beyond adorable, and is apparently a huge Os fan.  While I question her team choice, I definitely don't question her loyalty.  She got quite the warm reception from everyone at the Yard, Nats fans included.  I hope to be her one day at Nats Park.  That would be epic.

Because Sometimes You Need Help Just Not Giving a Fuck

I've been outdone at work today from about 5 minutes after I walked in the door.  I'm clearly irritable (I didn't get much sleep last night), and I realize this is not the fault of anyone around me, so I'm trying my hardest to not stand up at my desk and just scream STFU.  The struggle is real.

I saw this for about the millionth time on my fb feed, and finally clicked on it.  Pretty much amazing.  Too bad it was too loud around my desk for me to really hear it, but at least I know it's out there, and I can try to start my mornings off at home with this little meditation.

Has Dating Really Come To This?

Dating.  What can you say, other than it sucks.  Seriously.  People get married so they can stop dating.  Truth.

I got a friend request yesterday from someone in a baseball fb group I’m in.  I didn’t think much of it, because that happens from time to time, and I usually enjoy talking to these new friends.  This time….. I’m not so sure.

I shared a memory in that group Tuesday morning, as it was apparently the 1 yr anniversary of a terrible date that happened to come with AMAZING seats at a baseball game (more on this later).  We had recently talked about a baseball-focused singles/dating app, which I mentioned in my post… saying something like someone needed to make that so I don’t have any repeats of this date.

New “friend”:  Hey Erika!  I’m a relationship coach and looking for new clients for testimonials.  Are you interested???

Me:  um.  What’s a relationship coach? [editor’s note:  don’t ask this question.]

NF:  if you think about a physical trainer, it works much the same way.  You get a better workout with a trainer and better results.  With a relationship coach, specifically how I have been trained, we focus on using your feminine and masculine energy to build better relationships and draw a man closer.

Me:  yeahhhh I’m not entirely sure what all that means.

NF:  a coach helps you have a better relationship with a man or anyone.  Especially helpful if you are dating around.  Do you feel like you’re creating the relationships you want with a man?

Well, I’m single, so no.

BUT

Seriously?  This is a thing?  Dating in today’s world is so unbelievably awful, people need “dating coaches”?!  And these people are trained?!  I have so many questions, but I’m not sure I want any of the answers.  If this is really what the dating world has come to, I might just have to tap out.

I Just Can't Sometimes

We're gearing up to move to a new location at work... this has been a long time coming, and is a huge change, as we've been in our current location for over 20 years.

A client's support worker called me to update her contact information for me and our program, as we're scheduled to move next week.  This is my actual conversation with her.

Person: I wanted to touch base regarding your move so I can update our contact information for you with your address and phone number.

Me: ok. all of our phone numbers are staying the same.

Person: ok. great. .....is your address changing?

Me: ..... um. yes. we will have a new address after our move to a new location.

Wow.  Just... wow.

Today Is Not My Day

Today has not started out well for me.

At all.

First, there was nothing good for breakfast when I stopped for coffee.  It's like there was a run on everything other than glazed donuts.

Then, I couldn't find my office keys.  I eventually did, but there was a good 20 minutes in there where I had no idea where they were, and my boss was slightly panicked at the idea of them being missing.

THEN, I turned on my computer, and somehow my huge brand new monitor had changed its settings all by itself overnight, and it was now on super huge ginormo mode, like I was blind, and I wanted to be able to read it from across a room.  That generated a call to the IT people.

While I was on the phone with them, I spilled coffee on my white tshirt.

And, throughout all of this, a client has repeatedly come up to me and asked me the same question about 1,000 times.

And all this happened before 8:15.

It's gonna be a good day.

OH! THAT'S why they sometimes throw over to 1st.

So.  It happened again last night.  I was at a baseball game, keeping score (in a large book.  that I purchased.  with multiple pens in all different colors (what? I'm piloting a multi-color system).  without the help of anyone around me), and lamenting my team's poor play.  I can be... loud, as my voice carries well, so when I'm yelling at players/umps from up in the cheap seats, I like to pretend that they can hear me.  While I'm sure my all-star pitcher didn't hear me yelling that he should not throw to 1st and should instead focus on the guy in the box, as he had been having difficulty with batters (especially this batter) all night, the guy two seats over felt the need to school me on baseball.  Really?  He leaned over my friend and told me that he threw over to 1st because it was important to keep that runner in check, as he has a lot of speed, and it would be super good if we could pick him off.  Wow.  I had no idea.  I'm just sitting here with 6 different color pens keeping score, but I had no idea why my pitcher would throw to 1st.  (side note, he sort of lobbed the ball to 1st, so it wasn't really a pick off move.  yes, I know there are reasons other than attempting to catch someone stealing that you could have when you throw over to 1st.)  This same fella did not appreciate me chiming in to his conversation later in the evening with a little baseball knowledge drop.  Guess that only works in one direction with him.

This same thing happened earlier this year.  I was at a game vs an AL team, and was questioning why the hell they had their relief pitcher batting.  NL relief pitchers rarely bat, so why the hell would an AL one?  We were all laughing at his 0.000 avg, wondering when was the last time he had actually picked up a bat.  From 2 rows back, I hear someone start explaining to me that his 0.000 avg simply meant he hadn't had an at-bat all season (actually, AL fan stranger, it simply means he hasn't had a hit.  I point to Jon Lester prior to this past weekend as my shining example here).  I told her I wasn't questioning his avg, but rather questioning why he would be batting at all.  She politely explained to me that he was batting so he could continue to pitch in the bottom of an inning.  Again, I was sitting there holding my big scorebook filled with pages and pages of scorekeeping and notes.  But thanks for explaining to me that in order to continue pitching, the pitcher must bat.  At least this would-be teacher was a lady.  I find it much less offensive.

Even earlier this year, my friend had a pair of opening day tickets he wasn't going to be able to use, so I found a fan in need and sold them for face value.  This guy was great.  Extremely talkative and personable.  My mom and I were both thrilled he was the one who ended up with the tickets, because we had a great time with him.  He did, however, keep looking over towards me and my scorekeeping, and was checking up on my skills, and seemed impressed that I was able to do it on my own.

Now, I'll be the first one to admit that there is a lot about baseball that I don't know, and there's a lot about scorekeeping that I don't know.  I just learned how to do this last July.  My gay boyfriend taught me as a way to have the convenience of the score in front of him without actually having to do any of the work.  While I caught on really quickly, some things took a while, like learning position numbers.  All last year, I had to count, starting with the pitcher, while pointing at all the players to get the position numbers I needed to write down.  The gay bf found this IMMENSELY embarrassing, and constantly asked me if I could please figure out how to count without pointing.  Nope.  Haha I did eventually learn the numbers, however, and now I can tell you that a 3rd to 1st throw for an out is 5-3.  Pitcher math still gets me sometimes when errors are involved, or when I forget to clearly mark when a new pitcher came in during an inning.  And I'm trying to find a way to clearly mark who is moving players over and who is driving them home so I can actually keep track of end of game stats, like RBIs (this, and the pitcher math, is why I keep piloting multi-color systems.... just haven't found the right one yet).

So, lesson to all sports fans out there.  Unless someone is asking wtf is going on, chiming in with a knowledge drop may not be the best idea.  It is possible that the person sitting near you knows what's going on.

Throwback: That Time I Learned Who The Best Defensive Infielder Is

In honor of the upcoming series against the Reds, let's throwback to one of my most favorite idiot fan moments.

The gay boyfriend and I were at a game vs the Reds last year.  Sitting behind us was a self-proclaimed diehard Reds fan, rocking his jersey at the game.  He was with two friends who were fans of neither team on the field, and only appeared to be casual fans of baseball in general.

Early in the game, after Mr. Reds had been going on and on about Votto, one of his friends pointed out that he didn't think Votto was playing, as his name wasn't listed on the scoreboard (where the lineups of both teams are listed throughout the entire game).  After a brief pause, Mr. Reds said "oh, he's just not one of the first 8 players."  Um.  You get 8 players, plus a pitcher (odd to divide them up that way here in the NL, but ooook).  After that, you're out of players.  I couldn't take it, and turned around to share that Votto was hurt and, while I wasn't sure if he was on the DL, he hadn't played in several games.  Mr. Reds didn't believe me (again, despite the fact that Votto wasn't listed on the scoreboard as someone in the lineup), and looked it up on his phone.  Several minutes later, he was very disappointed to learn that Votto had indeed been out for several games.

Later in the game, as Mr. Reds continued to babble on and on about Votto to his friends, he said one of the greatest things I think I've ever heard.  "Your best defensive infielder is at 1st."  Both the gay bf and I turned around (we just couldn't help ourselves) and questioned this statement.  To give Mr. Reds credit, he did passionately defend his position, albeit with zero facts.  We both tried to explain that all your 1st baseman does is catch, and they give him a really big glove to do it, and generally that's where your power hitters are because they're on the team for their offense, not defense, and that your short stop is generally your best defensive infielder, etc., but Mr. Reds could not be swayed.  We eventually gave up and let him continue living his his Votto dream house, but definitely still laugh about this today.

We're both pretty sure he also thinks the catcher is the fastest guy on the team.