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.

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.

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.

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.

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...

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.