Weekend Wrap-up Part 2: Dude, Where're My Car Keys?

Brrr Greetings chilly-ones. It's been a long and crazy week, so let's get right to the continuation of the Weekend Wrap-up from last last weekend (grab a snack, it's a bit of a long one)...

So when we last visited, I had just gotten home with beer and wine after nearly breaking my neck in the snow and ice. Joe's and my friends had arrived already, so when I came home the boys retreated to the basement and my girlfriend and I cracked open a beer.

Though the weather was starting to get brisk we decided to go shoot some pool at the Rec Room, a sports bar nearby in Towson. We drove up, parked, and ordered a round before hitting the tables. After a few games I took a brief bathroom break and when I returned I noticed Car where I left her, by the electronic jukebox, with a few guys talking to her. As I approached I caught a glimpse of the guys and they didn't look much older than 17. Even in my current state, I was suspicious.

I sidled up between him and Car, turning my back to give him the idea to scram. Instead he muttered, "I wanna watch you guys play."

Car and I exchanged glances before saying, "We don't like people to watch us," but he still leaned on the barstool. Finally, I said, "you can watch us from over there..." Finally they got the hint and in the blink of an eye they all had evaporated. Almost too quickly so.

In any event, when they had gone I decided I wanted to play more songs so I stumbled over to the ATM. Now this has no real bearing on the story, but it might be an amusing little anecdote- or at least another example of my painful stupidity (and who am I to spare you that enjoyment?). As I take out my $20 bill, I noticed directly to my right a change machine. In my inebriated mind, I figured...change! I can break my $20 right here! It wasn't until I saw the bill slip through my fingers and into the change machine that I suddenly realized what I was doing- as if the film suddenly went from slo-mo to realtime..nnnnnnoooooo! All I could do was just stand there, waiting for my $20 worth of quarters to spill in my hand and pretend I actually meant to do it.

Anyway, as I struggled heavy-handed back to our table I was about to relay my mistake to Car, but I stopped.

"My wallet's gone," she said. The seriousness in her voice and face brought everything back into focus (well, mostly, anyway). We first checked all around the floor, then all around the bar. Pretty soon every bartender and manager was helping us look for the missing wallet. However it wasn't long before Car realized it wouldn't be found here.

"Those guys took it," she said definitively. I settled the tab while she went out to grab one of the cops that usually hang out by the movie theater. When I rejoined her she was even more distraught. With anger (and alcohol) pumping through my veins I tried to collect my words and ask another officer.

"Sccuz...um. Scuuze me. Ma frreiendzz wallet was stolen." Not surprisingly, he said, "What?"

I took a deep breath and tried again," My friend's wallet was stolen." He then asked Car questions and along with another officer we walked about, looking for the same guys who had bothered us in the bar. Suddenly Car said she spotted them walk into the Subway. The two officers told us to meet them back by the movie theater. Unfortunately when they returned they said that the boys didn't have it on them anymore. Most likely they took whatever cash and tossed the wallet somewhere else.

While Car went to make a police report I checked a few garbage cans to see if I could happen to spot it. I was disappointed and just as I was about to tell her, she had a big grin on her face.

"Apparently, someone just got tazed," she said. As we tried to casually walk by and see the victim on the ground, we felt our spirits lift a tad. Still, it was time to go home now.

By then I was sober and just ready to get home. We walked back to my car and as Car waited patiently for me to fish my keys out of my bag, I realized they were gone. Shit shit shit. I've only had this car for two weeks, and already I lost my first set. More worrisome, they were the dealership's keys- complete with description of the car.

I ran back to the bar, hoping maybe I had just dropped them somewhere. When I came in, one of the bartenders recognized me.

"We're still looking for that wallet," he said.

"Oh, good, but I'm actually looking for my keys now."

"Oh wow, it's really not your guys' night, huh?"

Keyless, I returned to my car and Car called her husband to give us a lift home. I pathetically told Joe the situation, but thankfully he was a hero (with AAA). They were able to pop open my car and I managed to get it home before any hooligans got to it.

Car and I toasted our mutual shitty-luck with another couple of beers. It may not be a totally happy ending, but it at least makes for an entertaining story.

Weekend Wrap-up Part 1: The Quest for Beer

Had a slightly adventuresome weekend. Let me break it down...

On Saturday Joe was having some friends of his over to discuss his latest project, and one of those guys was bringing his wife along to keep me company. After going into clean-up mode in the rest of the house Joe tended to his man cave while I decided to make a trek for some wine and beer for everyone.

Now as I think I've mentioned before (and in case you couldn't already tell) I really hate the winter and for a number of reasons; one of the biggest being that I hate to not be able to walk to the places near us because it's too cold or too icy. I get so sick and tired of being cooped up or relying on driving so much when the places I need to get to are only 5 minutes away. One of those places is the liquor store.

I stepped outside that afternoon to test the air. It was cold but thankfully the wind wasn't blowing so I bundled up, plugged my headphones into my iPod, and grabbed my black grocery bag as I headed out the door.

I got about halfway there when I realized I had just grabbed my debit card and not my ID. Though we really do live pretty close I didn't want to bother turning around to go get something I might not even need, so I kept going. Besides, it would be getting dark soon enough.

I crossed York Road and walked into the store. A kindly middle-aged woman came around and asked if I needed anything. After I told her what beer I'd like she carried it over to the counter for me.

"I'm going to try to make this easy for you since we saw that you walked here," she said smiling and with a slight Southern drawl.

I thanked her but showed her I came prepared with my own shopping bag. She was just placing the second 12-pack inside when she said, "Just gonna need to see some ID, sweetheart."

Ugh, crap. I chuckled loudly to myself and admitted to her that I had accidentally left it at the house.

"How old ahre you?" she asked seriously.

"25..no I mean 26!" I blurted out, but it was too late. She cocked her head to the side and with the sweetest tone said, "Ah, I'm sorry, but I caain't sell it. I am so sorry." I assured her I understood and walked out empty-handed, cursing myself. Freaking nervous teenagers who don't prep themselves before they try to buy beer and are carded would've answered better than I did, and I AM of age.

I got home and told Joe the story but said I would go back out and try again. I did so and went back to the same liquor store. The woman was gone but instead a guy that had just walked in hopped the counter and waited on me. He did, of course, card me, but at least this time I was prepared.

After I got home I reached into my backseat to grab the brown paper bag (which must have been made of glorified brown spray-painted crepe paper) and it ripped all the way down. Damn damn damn.

I then had to balance a 12 pack of beer and two bottles of wine on a icy sidewalk tight rope. I made it all the way home and figured my night wouldn't be any more eventful than that. I was, of course, sorely mistaken...Part 2 tomorrow.

A. C. Slacker

Ok, so since last night's post was long AND overly emotional (a.k.a. BORING) I'm gonna do something light and brief.

I had an awkward moment at work today. Our boss, who is ultra cool, came over yesterday and said that we'd have a meeting today to discuss how we have been progressing on our given projects. Let me back up a second and explain that for the past few weeks (yes, weeks) we have been pretty much told to do whatever we want, but that there was a small ongoing project we could each work on for a while until the bigger projects come through the pipeline. So after he described what we were doing we were left to our own devices.

Now, I hate to say it, but I'm a bit of a born slacker, as well as procrastinator. Unless I have the fear of God in me, or at least someone breathing down my neck, I usually take it upon myself to look up God knows what on the Internet or play Sporcle, a game-website one of the girls turned us onto. In between games and latest shopping queries, I have been every so often clicking on and actually doing a bit of research for my project- but I was nowhere near anything useful or really definitive yet. So when he mentioned wanting to see our progress, I got that old feeling I hadn't felt since college: slacker panic.

I went home trying to convince myself I would be fine, that I had SOMETHING, just so long as he didn't ask anything specific- like what EXACTLY this company I'm showing him does. My other saving grace, I thought, was that I was collaborating with the other temp, so we could kinda lean on each other.

In the morning he walked over to where we were sitting and suggested we have our meeting at 11, and that we could just email him what we had so far.....this was a problem. At that point all I had was a collection of websites that I could show him. What the hell was I going to email him? Quickly my fellow fremp and I got to work on putting something, ANYTHING, on some Powerpoint slides. It wasn't much, but we managed to get some stuff on 9 different slides. As time ran out I emailed him what we had and walked to our deaths.

Les was up first, and as usual, was way prepared with a nice long and detailed Excel spreadsheet of her project. She seemed informed and understood what she was supposed to be doing. Then it was our turn. He pulled up my first slide (the one I was responsible for) and was quiet. I looked at it through his eyes---what the hell has this girl been DOING for almost 3 weeks? A fourth grader would've put together a nicer slide with more info. And then I did the thing I am most embarrassed by.

I began with an offensive attack, trying to get a head start in commenting on the slides before he had the chance to ask anything, but I found myself stumbling and stammering. At one point he asked a specific question (ohcrapohcrapohcrap), and tried my hardest to not look dumbfounded.

"So..what does that '90% confidence' mean?," he asked.

"Um, well...yeah, it means that they wanted to be 90% confident the information they got was sound and so, uh, therefore....the information they gave back was...90% accurate," I managed to get out. You ever have one of those feelings where you are outside yourself and you are just watching you make a total ass of yourself because the person you are talking to can totally tell you have no idea what you are talking about?

Ah well. Thankfully, it was the last specific question he asked, and luckier, he even said it was looking good and was already helpful. He gave us a few simple points to include and then released us.

We walked out breathing a heavy sigh of relief, and I did the same thing I always do when I barely get by the skin of my teeth in those situations, and reminded myself to NEVER force myself to have to go through something like that again. I like to think I will, but I'll probably just put it off...ooh "Name all the original 13 colonies" on Sporcle, hmmmm

O Henry, Where Art Thou?

Maybe it's this weather, or maybe it's just how I've been feeling lately, but I was so struck by something that I felt the need to write it out. I should apologize in advance if I come off sounding pretentious or worse, old, but I really wanted to comment on something while it was fresh in my mind. I'll try, but this will probably not be one of my most humorous posts, however it will hopefully be one of my most passionate.

I was sitting in my car this evening, listening to NPR (as all good wannabe hipster/intellectuals are apt to do) and specifically "All Things Considered", when I heard the deep voice of Robert Siegel describe the next segment as discussing the language and dialects on Twitter. Now, I'm still a bit of a newcomer to NPR, but this right off the bat, annoyed me a bit. I thought, really? Is that so very important right now? Still, I listened and waited, hoping they would maybe do a profile on how Twitter's language varies from country to country or describe the impact these social networking sites and their language have had on how businesses are practiced.

Instead I was stuck, nay, FORCED to hear the distinguished voice of Robert Seigel, utter things like "sutton" and "coo". The final blow occurred when a researcher from Carnegie Mellon answered questions, and explained to Siegel that "sutton" basically meant, "something." It was like a sit down between generations, the younger explaining pop culture to the older. This is really the second time I have felt this way; the first being when Terry Gross spoke to Green Day on "Fresh Air" about their musical based on "American Idiot".

As the researcher began his analysis of Laughing Out Loud, or "L-O-L-ing" I sighed and sadly clicked on my classic rock station. I realized I was annoyed and saddened by two factors- the overall catering to a generation and the seemingly enthusiastic demise of our common language.

As I mentioned I am still new to NPR, but from what I gathered already is that it is a station that encourages artistic and scientific thought. Though the shows are diverse they all share one common thread that unites them; they are all meant to enlighten. They can all teach you something.

Maybe it's just me. Maybe this is where the pretension and age seeps out of me and I come across as a know-nothing know-it-all or just a young old-fart. But I can't help but think there is much more to ourselves than these social fads, no matter how great or ever-present. I don't want to learn about the casual language of pre-teens. I want to know why we are in a war, explained to me in simple terms. I don't care about a band that has all but given up their relevance and social response for a short stint back in the limelight by reusing old songs into a trendy musical. I want to hear NEW things, by people I've never heard of- jazz singers or folk artists, rappers who truly use language as art and not merely as means to obtain frivolities like sex and money. When we become soft in our minds we become soft as as society. We are told to never stop learning, and we never will stop. But the materials we incorporate into our brain stems must be of a greater quality if we are to progress, not just as a generation, but as the holders of the future.

Now onto my second point of this boring lecture- the crushing of our language. As little as I am informed in the history or standards of NPR, I am in the history and standards of our language. However, I can say fully and without fear of retaliation, that I am just as informed as you. And still, I say we must reclaim our language.

Though my stint as an English teacher was brief I can tell that we are doing the generations below us a great disservice if we do not at least make the effort to encourage and teach basic language. Part of it, I know, is due to the people that are surrounding these kids, but it certainly cannot help when we are waving a flag of incompetence and saluting it.

I think about that movie, "My Fair Lady," another musical (ironic on my part, or just lazy? You decide) in which Henry Higgins finally creates a breakthrough for Eliza, reminding her that our common language is the greatest thing we could possess. Beneath the idealistic and corny words themselves, there is great truth in that. Our language is an equalizer, allowing us to come from whatever background we are thrown and find a commonality. I understand the need for casual language, I realize even other languages have both formal and informal usages. However, I fear that we have become too lax in ours, the linguistic equivalent of wearing gym shorts to a black-tie affair.

What will become of us if we care only to get by, put in little but expect much? IDK.

Over/Under

**Interlude**

Before I finish this story, I have three pieces of business to attend to:

1.) I love everyone who takes time out of their day to actually read this thing, and a special place in my heart for my followers. That is why I am asking, nee, pleading to find my 10th follower. Call it ego, but I would love to say I have officially joined the ranks of bloggers who have followers in the double-digits.

2.) As of two weeks ago I officially hit my half-way mark for my television abstinence. So for those of you sick and tired of this thing, congrats, we are half-way there!

3.) Joe just made me laugh when he went to touch my leg and I had to warn him I hadn't shaved in a while, to which he replied (with a big funny smile on his face), "What's wrong with you?" Hahhahah, he said it, not in a mean way, but almost in a wonderstruck/smiley way. Made me laugh. Anyway...

We are met by David, the salesman, as soon as we walk back into the dealership from our test-drive.

"Well, what'd ya think?" he booms excitedly.

I'm trying to keep my composure but internally I'm doing back-flips. Joe and I had discussed in the car the possibility of maybe not having to put ANY money down; that perhaps using my car for the trade and being pre-approved might make them cut the price right down. We decided to go into this with that as our bottom-line, and, if push came to shove, merely offer my $200 gift card as some more money down.

David was, however, a ninja in the sales department. He didn't seem to want to give us too much time to think, and instead starting bringing out numbers. He also seemed to slightly use my inexperience to his advantage, handing me things to look at and then papers to sign. I probably would've blindly signed as well if Joe hadn't been there to put the brakes on and ask some questions.

We finally got down to the bottomline price, and I was concerned. Somehow my reasonably priced car had skyrocketed. Joe asked how that happened and David explained that there wasn't much they would give me for my car- only $500.

I casually mentioned that other dealerships were willing to give me nearly $1700.

To which he replied, "Let em. Ha ha ha" I wasn't laughing. For the first time I tried to be on the offensive with negotiations and was immediately shot down. But when David left again Joe explained the reason one dealership was willing to give us more was because they had a larger profit to gain. According to David there was nothing they could do with my car.

"We can shoot it for you," he said guffawing.

We finally saw where everything was breaking down and agreed to the terms. David left one more time, explaining that their financial officer would be around briefly to talk to us. A young-ish woman walked over, a lady I had seen walking around the dealership, and sat down. I was immediately struck by her appearence. She was wearing a fur-lined ski-jacket and her entire eyelid was covered in purple eye shadow which matched the rest of her overdone makeup.

"Hi! My name is Erica, and I heard you bought a car, congradulations!" She had one of those super bubbly and personable attitudes. The kind that made you think, she's gonna swipe this money out of my hand and make me thank her for it.

She explained how the car REALLY needed an undercoating, and that technically the car shouldn't be driven off the lot without it. It freaked me out, but not as much as the price. She tried to "soften" it by saying she'd give us a "discount". I was so flustered I simply agreed and signed.

It wasn't until the next day when I was detailing my experience with my coworkers that they all shook their heads in unison- no one EVER gets undercoating. My fremp Les described it as, "Unless you plan on parking your car in the middle of a lake, you don't need it." That settled that.

To make a super, stretched-out, and winding story short, I emailed David back and forth, knocked off the undercoating, and even stand to make an extra $20 on this deal, but we'll see.

In any event, I dropped the car by my mechanic to make sure it checked out alright (to which he happily reported, "You should buy this car!") and then after that the bank approved the higher loan (and confirmed that the undercoating would not be included in my cost-yay Angela) and finally today I dropped off the check from the bank to the dealership, content that though I'm paying a teeny bit more a month than I wanted, I'm getting much more car. Even though I don't have the plates and title/registration I can say with full confidence I am now the proud owner of a bouncing 2005 obsidian black Hyundai Tucson (better Gull?)

Thanks for taking this long road with me folks, hope it was edutaining. See ya Monday!

Deal or No Deal

So Joe went off to bed and before I went too I decided to just briefly scan the listings on Vehix.com. As I went through page after page of posts that I had already checked and cast off, I came across two new ones. So new that the listings had barely any info about them- no pic and no exact location.

But the basic specs were there- one was for another Ford Sportage, older but with less mileage, while the other was another 2005 Hyundai Tuscon. My eyes jumped to the Tuscon immediately, especially when I saw the price. Then I looked at the next major thing on my checklist, the mileage, and frowned. At over 90k miles, I knew it would be a stretch.

Still, the price was within my range so I filled out a request for more information and when the email came I immediately wrote back.

The next day Joe and I planned how the day would go- we would visit two more dealerships and if I still didn't see anything I liked I would reconsider the Sportage I had ridden the previous night. First up for the day was a Honda CRV.

Honda CRV-

PROS: Reliable make and model. Price was (somewhat) reasonable. Very low mileage.

CONS: Old (2002). Nothing exciting and ugly color.

We pulled up to the dealership and met with the salesman. He explained that the car was either being inspected or had been sold off, so he left us to find out. We stood around inside the small used-car building for a good 15-20 minutes. He then returned, said they were still looking for it, and went back out.

Meanwhile I began to get a little impatient. Not with the salesman, but I realized I was getting more excited to see the Tuscon than this car, so since he still hadn't located it, and Joe had to be back at a certain time to get ready for his show, the salesman suggested we return in an hour and by then they will have located it.

So we hopped back in my sloppy jalopy and headed for the Tuscon.

Hyundai Tuscon-

PROS: Well within my price range. Newer year. Ranked well in Consumer Reports and Edmunds.

CONS: High mileage. Bigger engine.

We pulled up the next place on fumes and walked in to be greeted by David, the salesman here. He seemed excited to show us a couple of other cars while another person was looking at the Tuscon. Finally they left, and without putting any kind of money down to hold the car, so it was our turn. He walked us out to it and I was in love- small and sporty, yet roomy inside. Easily foldable back seat. Privacy partition in the back. Trunk and window separately open. Heated leather seats...AND a SUNROOF! Even a pocket to put my sunglasses. I was sold.

Thankfully I had test-driven two Tuscons already and driving this one reminded me again why I liked them. They are so smooth, really like driving a car, not necessarily a truck. Joe and I drove along the highway, even to higher speeds, and the Tuscon just glided easily under my hands.

When we pulled back into the dealership Joe tried to coach me into having a poker face, which eventually fell by the wayside. I soon became a yammering yes-doll. Thankfully Joe was there to ask the questions I should've been asking, and we actually didn't get ripped off- well almost.

The thrilling conclusion tomorrow...

LOST on a test drive

Fer real, I am keeping this sucker short. For one, I don't really have a topic in mind and two, I'm sucking in barely enough air through one nostril. I guess I am in the grips of a cold, which sucks. I can normally deal with the blocked off nose, but the cough is just annoying. Especially when it wakes me up in the middle of a sound sleep. Poor Joe is suffering too, but I'm trying to blow my nose as quietly as possible. Oh well, chances are he'll get it from me soon anyway and then we'll lovingly keep each other awake.

But instead of rambling about illness again, I have more exciting news to offer- I am about 90% a car-owner. Yes, I am happy about the car and no, I have no idea as to what I will obsess over instead. And I cam upon it very much the same way I happened upon attending Towson University. Back then I didn't exactly have schools pounding on my door, so my options for college were a tad limited. I was certain I was set to go to one school (Virginia Wesleyan) and while it is a nice school I still wasn't sure it was the school for me. As we drove home from looking at it I could tell I was depressed because I would be going there because I hadn't any other choice, and not because I really wanted to go there. When we arrived home, there in the mail pile was an acceptance letter from Towson University. I remained objective when we finally went out to see that school the following weekend, but in the end I knew the fit was right. Oddly enough, Fate once again intervened to help me make my big decision....

Last Friday I was scrolling through the latest car listings on Autotrader and happened upon what looked like the car I had been waiting for- small, low mileage and reasonable price. And bonus- a sunroof! I don't know why but I was secretly gunning to have a sunroof in my next car.

I tried to calm my excitement as Joe and I drove to the dealership to take a look. It was getting dark and cold so I was only able to take a brief look at it before the salesman was already to start talking numbers. Things were moving so fast and I hadn't even taken it for a test drive yet. I finally asked the guy if I could and as he handed me the keys Joe stayed behind to watch the dog (whom he had brought with him, since we didn't know how long we'd be). I sat in the car and waited for the salesman to join me in the front seat. Instead he just handed me the keys and waited for me to close the door, then walked back inside. Umm ok. I had never been in a test drive where the salesman didn't accompany me, so that was weird.

I realized I would be flying completely solo- probably not the best idea since my sight isn't the best at night and I had little familiarity with area (and no one to advise me). Still I pulled out into traffic and decided to see what the car was like at higher speeds. I suddenly realized the road I was on became a long stretch of highway. I tried to keep myself calm and just told myself I'd simply get off at the next exit. Unfortunately there were few signs and only one other exit..that lead to I-95.

To make matters worse I realized that the headrests in the back seats were obstructing my view from behind and I hadn't had the chance to play with the mirrors, so I'm basically driving blind..while driving blind. Meanwhile I'm bouncing up and down and gripping the wheel like life itself, trying to get used to the very "truck-like" feel of this car that I was warned about on many automotive sites.

Finally I see a blessed streetlight, but with no easy way to turn around I simply make a right....down onto ANOTHER (yet smaller) highway that eventually lead to a mall. A few more turns there, and trying like hell to remember my way back, I found myself bouncing all the way back to the dealership, where I promptly handed back the keys and told him I'd think about it.

As we came home I was downtrodden that the car I was so excited about turned out to be a dud. But little did I know that Fate had something ELSE in mind....

The sequel tomorrow...

Great Moments in Gluttony

I was using some pretzel sticks to sop up my leftover genetically reconstructed animal-victual yeast (or g.r.a.v.y.) from my microwave meal and realized I am a certified practitioner of gluttony. I suddenly had a flash to the odd meals and food combos that I secretly love, but am afraid to tell people about. But then I thought it might make for a good blog post, so here you are- my worst (or best, depending on how you look at it) gluttonous foods...

1.) Bagel + Fries- I discovered this hidden delectable delight back in middle school when my friends and I were allowed to leave for lunch and we would hit our favorite spot- a small luncheonette that looked as if the walls themselves had been deep fried and real older women named Maude and Blanche were working as waitresses. You know those places where they have the candy machines with candy they haven't manufactured since before Nixon was in office. Anyway, one day I was craving a bagel, but my friend's fries tasted so good I decided to put them together- and behold the fry-bagel. What was best about this was that the fries would melt the butter (yes, I'd still cover the bagel in butter too--gettin hungry/sick yet?). Buttery, salty, chewy, crispy goodness.

2.) Pizza + Fries- It's probably not healthy to use fries as a condiment, but whatever. Again, this was a food match I made in middle school when the luncheonette closed and we still didn't want to stay at school during lunch, so we walked to the town's pizzeria. In Jersey, people like to fold their pizza in half, so one day I was again coveting my friend's fries and decided to roll a few up in my pizza....mmmm. Got that same salty and potatoey taste but wrapped in tomato sauce and cheese. I could have a heart attack just thinking about it...and I probably will.

3.) Mint chocolate chip (the green kind) + mini gummy bears- Can't right off recall where this one came from, but I do know exactly how this is supposed to taste. For one, though there may be no OBVIOUS difference, it MUST be the green kind of mint chocolate chip. As specific as that is, I am even more a stickler for the gummy bears. They must must MUST be the teeny tiny mini kind. I've tried to get the same effect with the big bears, but the ratio is just all wrong. The problem is there aren't enough ice cream places that carry the mini gummy bears. So far the only consistent place I've seen them is Friendly's. Just another reason to keep that dated old diner alive.

4.) Peanuts + cherry slurpy- This is, without a doubt, my holy grail food; a combo I discovered YEARS ago but have yet to ever duplicate the exact taste. I stumbled upon this one on a family road trip. My dad stopped for gas and snacks so I went along inside too, buying myself a cherry slurpy. It was my turn to sit up front so I was given the privilege of having my slurpy right next to my dad's drink and his bag of peanuts. I was helping myself to a few when I dropped one accidentally in my slurpy cup. I fished it out and was amazed at the taste- sweet and cold mixed with salty and crunchy. I began dipping peanuts in the drink like chips into salsa whenever my dad wasn't looking. My family didn't seem to understand nor appreciate my culinary discovery but ever since then, every time I happen to remember to get one I forget about the other. One day I'll have to make the conscious effort to relive that taste again.

Think you have some weirder/tastier food concoctions? Post them below or as comments on facebook.

Staind

In case anyone was wondering the story behind my wall post on facebook yesterday (and why I didn't bother to post anything here last night) here it is...

About a month and a half ago I was changing the bed and noticed a dark yellow stain on our brand new mattress. It didn't feel wet nor did it smell, so I (stupidly) wrote it off as just an odd stain and ignored it.

A few weeks went by and I had pretty much completely forgotten about the stain. Then one night I was playing with Georgia on our bed and folding laundry when she suddenly turned around a few times (as if she was getting ready to curl up and nod off) and peed on our bed...right in front of me! I thankfully caught her in time to shoo her off the bed and gathered up the comforter before it could sink even to the sheets. I scolded her strongly, but was relieved that at least I managed to save the mattress and other linens. Again, my mind simply wrote it off as either a freak accident or the fault of a full and overly excited puppy bladder, nothing more. Until last night...

Though I was certain it was just a one-time incident, I still became obsessed with just checking the bed to make sure she hadn't had the same "accident". The other night I was walking back into the bedroom and petting Georgia when my hand did a casual swipe on the comforter...and hit a wet spot.

Panic stricken I yanked the dog off the bed and began furiously pulling up the sheets, in a race against time and urine before it seeped into the mattress itself. Sadly, I was too late...

Georgia had been naughty a few times this past week anyway, so we can't be sure if this is a dominance thing, a retaliation thing, or even a medical thing. All I know is that my heart was broken a little about this: not just because it seems like a slap in the face for all the good we've done for her and not just because this is something I really didn't see coming. It's because we JUST bought that mattress!! In a way, that thing was the first purchase Joe and I made together with our own money for our place. It represented a small step towards maturity and partnership. Unfortunately the dog has figuratively and literally pissed all over it. Grr.

If anyone out there has any experience with this kind of behavior (or better still, has tips on how to curb it) post theme here or on facebook.

That's it for me tonight guys (I KNOW, less than 1,000 words, what a treat!). Good night, sleep tight, don't let the dog pee on your mattress.

Brief Moments

You have to think that there is someone out there, be it God or Fate or whatever, that enjoys your moments of stupidity, right? I mean those moments when you really have to look around and make sure there is no one there- you have to think SOMEONE is laughing at your expense.

Take the other day...

Georgia the Dog is many things. And one of those things, is gassy. I have been around dogs for the better part of my youth, and yet I have NEVER come across a dog as flatulent as this one. And they aren't the cute little pipsqueak farts, they are the rank old sour Puppy Chow kind that infect the air so that you are left gasping on the floor (sorry, didn't warn you if you were eating).

So I was just getting up from the couch when I leaned right into a fresh air-bomb that left me gagging. I reached for the ever-ready air freshener (and when you need an air freshener like an asthma inhaler, I think you know you have a problem) and sprayed it all around me. Only problem was I sprayed just as the heater kicked on so the fresh mountain scent was blown directly back into my face. I swung my arms like an orangutan trying to keep both the chemicals and toxic gas from choking the life outta me, and I had to wonder....someone must be enjoying moments like this, right?

Of course, in those instances you can at least take in the comfort that no REAL person is witnessing your worst moments. The same can not be said when you are out in public and Embarrassment singles you out.

Tonight my friend Ash invited me to accompany her to her gym. We spent a few minutes on the treadmills but then decided to give the ellipticals a go. I was a tad unsure as we noticed the only available machines with two next to each other were right in the front row, with at least 3 or 4 rows behind us. Still, we each took one and after she was finished with her workout I still had a few minutes left on mine. She mentioned she was going to work on her arms and left while I was huffing and puffing, trying not to pass out.

As I was trying to bang out the last few minutes I kept getting the feeling my pants were creeping down. They are not especially low exercise pants, but where the seam was kept making me think my pants were falling and exposing my underwear. So much so in fact that I casually tried to pull them up, just to make sure. Then in the distance I swear I heard a tittering of laughter. Now if you are at all like me, when you hear laughter in the background, no matter where you are, you automatically think it's at you. The feeling and fear of exposure returned so often that I started to not even fake it, and just kept yanking my not-even-falling-down pants up, till I probably looked like It's Pat on an elliptical.

As my workout concluded and I gave one final tug at the waistband, I began to think that maybe there is a force out there that gets some enjoyment out of seeing us in brief moments of embarrassment. And maybe the reason these moments are deployed around each other is to make sure none of us ever takes ourselves too seriously. Just make sure your pants stay up.

What's My Deal, Anyway?

I try too hard. I definitely do. I know this is a subject I have beaten to death (probably) but it really struck me just now as I was taking over over 6 minutes just to post something clever or meaningful on my wall on Facebook. I took at least 10 minutes to write something as a comment to someone's picture. And this is FACEBOOK we are talking about, not the ten commandments. Yet, I panic and freeze, just to type a simple LOL. I then spend the rest of the day worrying that in some realm of possibility my comment will come off bad and I'll end up looking like an asshole. I'm thinking I'm making George Constanza appear less obsessive and neurotic.

I have a feeling if someone for some reason was mentioning me to someone who had never met me their description would be the same, whether they liked me or not; only their inflections and delivery would be different.

EX 1: Person who likes me says in quiet desperation, "Oh she tries too HARD," while squinting the eyes and tilting their head slightly and sympathetically.

EX 2: Person who doesn't like me says more loudly and drawn out, "OH, she TRIIIES TOO hard," while rolling their eyes and rolling their head.

To the people who like me, I know what you mean. For the people who dislike me, I know what you mean, bite me (but still like me).

Anyway, speaking of trying too hard, I visited the place where trying too hard is an art form...the car dealership. Still on the hunt for my new car. Ready for a double whammy? I take Joe and convince him to sign on the loan with me, and lo and behold, we are approved! Call the guy I had been dealing with for the silver Hyundai Tuscon and....it was sold the previous night. God DAMN. In fact my mom had seen another one for sale (almost eerily the same..same year, about same mileage, and so same price. Kinda weird I'd stumble upon not one but 2 within my price range.

The salesman tells me to visit anyway to see what other cars they have but unfortunately I wasn't impressed with anything so today I decided to try my luck elsewhere.

I drove up solo to the Hyundai dealership in Towson, figuring if I were to find another Tuscon I'd have luck at an actual Hyundai dealership. I see one or two, but given the low mileage and young age, I'm doubtful. Still, the salesman asks if he can make it happen would I be interested? I say sure, if the numbers are right. I say off the bat that I have a loan ready and that I'd already done my research, even taken a Tuscon for a test drive before already. He seems to be uncomfortable with my not wanting to jump in for a test drive, so I quickly recover and say, "Um, I mean, sure, why not."

Now, I think the reason I hate the test drive is because I don't feel it's so much a test for the car, as much as a test for you, the driver. I feel like I'm back in driver's ed where every move and hesitation is recorded, and the guy next to me is just sitting in judgement. I glance at all the mirrors and windows at least a half dozen times in a 10 minute test drive. It doesn't help either when he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. I'll admit I'm not the best driver, but am I really cringe worthy?

We pull back into the dealership and it begins: the mating dance between salesmen and a possible sale. I am ready for the onslaught, but try to remain cool and unwavering. He explains the pricing and how I am CLOSE but that I'd either A.) have to put more money down or B.) apply for a bigger loan. Well, I don't have more cash than what I can put down and there's no way I'm pushing my luck for a bigger loan, especially if I think I can get a better deal elsewhere.

In the end, he did try. He even offered me a helluva lot more for my Altima than I think it's worth, but still I couldn't attempt to pick up the slack by putting myself in dire financial straits. When I was about to walk out the door he handed my keys and asked if I would wait. I did, thinking, 'here it comes...the big payout..' Instead he merely shook my hand and said thanks for dropping in.

So the search continues. I know you are out there, little SUV with a 4 cyl engine, sun roof, roof rack, 4 wheel drive, 86k miles or less, made by either Honda, Hyundai, or Kia for $9k...but where?