My car was in the shop recently so I had to arrange alternate transportation to and from work that day. My roommate, Gretchen, drove me there in the morning because she is the kindest and most obliging of souls and, after crawling into bed in the wee hours of the morning, there is nothing she'd rather do than wake up at 7:30 to drive me halfway across the city. Yah, she's pretty cool.
But, when considering how to get back to the car place at the end of the day, I realized something: I am twenty-mumble years old and it's high time I start being self-reliant and learning a few life skills. And so, y'all, I took a BUS to the TRAX station and then took a TRAIN down to Murray and then I walked two blocks to the shop. All by myself!
And, because I get overly excited about very mundane things, I:
-giggled to my boss and told her I was "going on a public transportation adventure" and then she told me to make sure my cell phone was fully charged, wear a coat, not talk to strangers, wash my hands when I got home and call her if I got lost. Because she's my work-mom.
-printed off a map of the bus route and put a smiley face sticker on my destination
-called my sister and bragged to her answering machine about how I totally know how to take buses
-texted my roommates saying, "Taking the bus like a friggin' grown-up!" and a few minutes later, "On the train now like an ADULT!"
With gas prices inching toward four bucks a gallon this might become a regular activity for me.
And someday I'll stop broadcasting every time I do something marginally adult-like.
Alternately titled: "Enough run-on sentences to make your eyes bleed."
I took my car to the shop (LAME) but they were super nice to me (AWESOME) but then they found a problem (LAME) but they can fix it (AWESOME) but they're going to charge me $1500 for it (REALLY LAME).
I was downtown during the day (meh) and I tried to give a homeless lady a dollar but I pulled out a $100 bill instead and then had to do that awkward oh-wait-that's-for-me-you-get-this-old-crumpled-one (LAME).
I knocked the paper towel dispenser off the wall of the bathroom at work (HILARIOUS) but then I had to call Maintenance and tell them and they were like, "How did THAT happen?" and I was like, "Uh, it just . . . fell . . . off the wall," but they didn't really believe that and then everybody laughed at me and the Director over my whole department called me specially just to tease me which is funny because I didn't even know he knows who I am but he apparently does and he also knows that, in my spare time, I like to destroy company property (AWESOME, but in a little bit of a sarcastic way, you see).
I went to a Seventh-Day Adventist praise meeting (AWESOME) with Liz (AWESOME) and everyone was awesome (AWESOME) and it was so fun (AWESOME) and they fed us (AWESOME) and it was some of the best food I've ever had (AWESOME). (AWESOME) (AWESOME) (AWESOME).
Then I came home and ate chocolate cake (AWESOME) and got ready to watch The Bachelor (AWESOME) except, guess what, it didn't get recorded (LAME) so I watched Headlines on Leno instead.
Did I tell you that Gretchen is working the swing shift now (REALLY LAME) and we never see each other anymore (LAME)? So about 11:30 at night I usually start getting crazy ideas like "When's the last time you toilet papered someone's house? Don't you want to go toilet paper a house right now?" or "Man, I really want some Hawaiian Punch!" (I would say LAME, but really, my late-night ideas are usually AWESOME) and Gretchen's always the level-headed one to talk me out of doing stupid things except she's not around at 11:30 anymore (LAME) and there's no one home to talk me out of doing stupid things and basically that's why I have bangs now.
Because watching three how-to videos on cutting your own bangs makes you a bang-expert.
He's a musician. Like a real career musician, singer/songwriter, composer, producer, studio guy. He's basically a really big deal. You can even buy his CD on Amazon. Or you can find him on iTunes. I'd put a link up but, c'mon people, you are all capable adults out there. You can go on iTunes and find him yourself without me holding your hand through the whole process, right? (Also, that is code for I Don't Exactly Know How To Do That.) And his newest CD should be out soon. Well, at least that's what he told me but he's been telling me that for about a gazillion years so who really knows when it will be out. You know how musicians are.
Jeff and his crew came over to play for some friends and eat good food and do other awesome things for his birthday.
There was a moment during one of the songs when I looked around the room full of cool people listening to cool music, sipped my little drinky-drink demurely and thought to myself, "Oh my gosh, I feel so fancyand grown-up!"*
After kicking out the last few stragglers of the night, Gretchen and I settled in with Jeff for a little late night chit-chattin' and reminiscing. That's when Jeff recalled how the two of us had met: that I'd marched up to him at some social gathering and practically demanded that we be friends and then wouldn't stop pestering him until he finally relented because he's nice like that and that's how we wound up eating chocolate birthday cake on my couch last night.
I agreed that's probably what happened because it was his birthday after all. But, just between you and me, I think he was being a little dramatic. I mean, that doesn't sound like me at all, does it?
And later I drank Hawaiian Punch** out of a candy dish.
*Does that ever happen to you? You're doing something and then you realize, "Wow! This is like what real adults do! I'm almost like a real grown-up!"
Me: "You know, as much as I claim to hate the snow, it's really not that bad. I kind of like it. A little."
Approximately 65 hours later:
I hate you.
Thanks weather.com for your "1-2 inches of overnight snowfall". You are dead. to. me.
The moment I realized my snow scrapers and snow boots were in my trunk under half a foot of snow was a special moment for everyone.
(And let's not get into how my normal 30-40 minute commute morphs into a 1-2 hour event every. flippin'. time it snows. Let's just not get into that right now.)
Can I take a moment to thank all the snow-plow operators who get up early all winter and make the roads safe for me and all the other idiots out there? Y'all are awesome. You rock my world. This is not about you.
Because the snow-plow operator who does my work's parking lot is a grade-A moron. He plows straight down the middle of the rows (the drive-y part) and doesn't touch the stalls (the park-y part). Which is great if you're wanting to make a quick loop around the lot but not if you want to actually park in the PARKing lot. And when I had an SUV I never figured out why everyone complained about snow in the parking lot. Now that I have a car, let me tell you something: it BLOWS.
We don't actually need to get into exactly how long it took me to get into a stall (20 minutes) or how many trips to the ER I needed* (1) or how many expletives I shouted (lost count), do we?
Happy f'ing Tuesday, everyone.
*Shovels are sharp! And blood shows up really well on freshly-fallen snow!