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....