Water Road Warrior

Well, I'm back after yet another adventure in New Jersey. I went up to finally give my sister and brother their birthday/Christmas presents- tickets to see "Cinematic Titanic", the live-action version of the now defunct television show, "Mystery Science Theater 3000".

Joe had taken me two years ago for New Years and we had a ball. And since my sister and brother were such fans of the TV show too I looked up when they would be touring in New Jersey and purchased tickets.

The drive up to New Jersey in general wasn't bad, if not just a tad long. Joe and I arrived at around 10:00 p.m. and pretty much crashed right away.

The next day had miserable weather: rain, clouds, and cold wind. The theater we were going to was up in Princeton and though my dad insisted it was less than 45 minutes away, I was still anxious to get on the road. I probably shouldn't have been so quick to start driving.

We drove straight into downpour after downpour of rain. The wind batted my car around a bit and the splashes on my windshield made seeing a real challenge. We were armed with my Garmin but as we neared the theater we found ourselves confused. No signs that we could see indicated what direction the theater was in, and worse, we couldn't find the parking lot.

We drove around in a circle a few times till finally I drove right into the first semi-safe parking lot I could find. I even asked a couple in that same lot getting out of their cars if this was the right place to park.

"I dunno, " the woman said, "but I'm parking here anyway." That was good enough for me.

We parked thinking the theater was right around the corner; after all, that's what the Garmin had us believe. It wasn't until I hollered at two guys smoking outside a cathedral-like building where the McCarter theater was that we realized it was about 4 or 5 blocks away. So with time running out and the rain pouring directly on our heads, we dashed in the direction of the theater and, thankfully, made it on time.

The show was great, despite our discomfort in our seats due to cold, wetness, and hunger. Still, I was relieved to see how grateful and delighted my sister and brother were for their present.

When we got back on the road to get home the rain had stopped for the most part. We were instead treated to a fantastic lighting show right in front of us.

Now, I'm a nervous driver, anyway, but I'm even more so in a place I've never been before, and downright neurotic when it's nighttime and rain keeps getting in the way of my seeing. It must have been because of that that I failed to see the giant flood that took over a huge portion of the road. The oncoming traffic must not have expected it either, as I was about hit it another car did, and splashed a huge wave onto my car. A millisecond later, I hit it and soaked my own car. It happened so quickly and blinded me so completely that it took me several minutes to calm my nerves down.

I slowly pulled out of it and continued on my way. Happily there were no other car-incidences. But even still, I think I'll wait to visit Jersey again until after April's showers.

Scary Movie

I love watching movies. Well, I should say, I enjoy watching happy movies.

The reason being is that when I watch a movie, I am instantly pulled into the movie, feeling whatever the characters are feeling. This is great when the characters are on a great adventure or in love...not so much when they are being chased by a chainsaw-wielding sicko.

What's worse is that those scary thoughts and fears stick with me for a long time, showing up at the worst possible times.

Yet, I try to be a good sport whenever Joe is in the mood for a good thriller. I compartmentalize the story after it's over and walk away from it saying the mantra, "It's just a movie. It's just a movie." But sometimes that's not enough to keep my brain from torturing me later on in scary situations...like tonight.

Joe was out at practice and my girlfriends had left so it was just me and Georgia in the house. I went upstairs, with Georgia right at my heels, to grab a quick shower before bed. I was about to hop in when I suddenly heard the loud bang of doors opening and closing. We've had some weird phenomena happen upstairs, anyway, so I'm already on edge. Then I tried to reason that perhaps the sounds were coming from our neighbor, whose wall we share and whose goings on we can usually hear. No, it was coming from inside our house!

I clutched a towel and, like those hundreds of idiot victims that stupidly walk right into danger, I open the door. I guess I figured, hopefully whoever is standing right outside the door will kill me pretty quickly, saving me the stress and anxiety of trying to get away.

"Georgia?" I call out. She isn't on our bed and she doesn't run up the stairs. Now my heart lurches in my throat and my brain immediately jumps to the thought that a psychopath has trapped the dog somewhere to keep her from notifying me that he's there. He's waiting in one of the rooms to pop out and kill me.

I suddenly hear her whimper and now I think the psycho has hurt her to keep her quiet. But the whimper came from the guest room...which has it's door shut. I call her name again, and this time I can see her little paws hovering around inside the room.

It's then with a delighted sigh that I realize the damn dog had gone inside the guest room and when the door shut behind her she had gotten herself stuck. She was whimpering because she couldn't open the door to get out.

I release her from her self-made prison and gleefully cup her face in my hands, relieved I wasn't headed for a slasher-film conclusion. This movie had a silly comedy twist to it.

Homegrown Ass

Being from New Jersey I am pretty much used to common wise-cracks...about the beaches being polluted, about the people being fake and annoying, about the overall stench that hovers over the landscape (not completely true, by the way).

I have developed a pretty tough skin when it comes to the slams and even manage to politely nod and smile, taking comfort in the fact that people who say those things in earnest merely display they don't know squat about my home state.

So it was kinda surprising when I moved to Maryland and found myself on the other side of the table- being the one poking fun at places in Maryland and making myself look like the ignoramus.

On one specific instance I was sitting in a class my sophomore year of college. It was the beginning of the semester and I was doing what I always did the first day of class- finding an ally and maybe, a friend. There was a girl right behind me and we were just shooting the breeze when she mentioned she was a from a place called Dundalk.

Now, I hadn't been in the state that long, yet I had already heard "things" about Dundalk from recently acquired Marylander friends- about the landscape, people, and smell. They were stereotypes, sure, but I was used to people joking about the New Jersey ones, so I figured this girl was probably aware of her town's.

"Dundalk, huh? I've heard things about that place..." I said jovially.

"Like what.." she asked.

"Well, you know...that it's a bit rough..", I replied smiling...but she wasn't. And she continued to not do so for the rest of the semester.

Though I came off as a stuck-up snobby bitch and lost the opportunity for a friendship and alliance that would've probably lasted just the duration of the class, I did learn a few lessons- never knock someone's hometown, unless it was yours too, and never assume anything you don't know anything about.

Years later, and after working in Dundalk for a year, I can, however, attest to the smell...

Office Donuts

Yeah I know I slacked. This time the reason is health-related; as in, I'm not feeling in the best of it. I don't know where it came from but ever since Sunday I have been feeling a bit off and then yesterday it really hit my throat. Now my throat is just dry and scratchy while my head feels likes it's locked in a vise. So for my benefit (and yours) I'll keep this brief.

I haven't been working at an office for a very long time, but I have been working at one long enough to begin to notice odd office behaviors, rituals, and fears. It's kind of like being back in high school where you feel eyes upon you, judging you, until you find a clique or social order that makes you feel comfortable for turning your back on those who are of a different (or higher) social order.

Take the break room, or even just food for that matter. I choose to go onto the kitchen/break room like a mouse- quietly and discreetly, when no one else is there, getting what I want and then hightailing it back out before anyone even realized I was there. And as I'm pretty sure I mentioned before I usually don't go in there except for my cup of coffee and the occasional refill of my water bottle- unless snacks are concerned...

Once in a while someone in the office will bring in donuts or bagels. This time it was donuts. I checked my email and there was a message that had been sent throughout the office notifying all that there were donuts in the break room. Oooh. I had a chocolate craving anyway, so this was perfect. Still, I didn't want to rush in and rush out, especially if people were in there, so I let fate be my donut-decider. I waited until it was my usual coffee break and if it so happened there was a chocolate-esque donut left, I would claim it.

I walked in and saw...two halves. Each a different flavor, they had been sliced by a knife, presumably by the one left inside the box as if to reassure anyone that someone hadn't just taken a bite and left it there. The bigger half was also the more chocolatey one, but I was still a bit hesitant. What if someone WAS coming back for that other half, or worse, someone had taken a bite. I'd look like the office weirdo who takes other people's donuts and doesn't mind eating something someone else took a bite of.

In the end I quieted my neurotic brain by grabbing the rich donut-half and walking back to my desk. I still made sure to eat every crumb...just in case of incriminating evidence.

West Virginia: Wild and (Not So) Wonderful- Part 2

...We were about to try and get directions from Joe's parents over the phone when I pulled out my own GPS, my Garmin, and tried to see if it would work without being plugged in.

Much to my surprise (and incredible relief), it turned on. I typed in the address of the hotel and in a matter of moments, I held the way in my hands.

Joe hung up with his parents, reassuring them that we were finally good and on our way.

According to the directions we had to make a turn into what looked like a gravel driveway. We weren't quite sure we were heading in the right direction until the GPS continued to show an arrow leading the road.

At this point we were driving around in pitch black, only able to see what the came in front of the headlights. We soon found ourselves back in the wildlife preserve on the hill, except now we were on an even messier broken road. I clutched onto the GPS like the guiding light it was, hoping we didn't get a flat or run out of gas.

Finally we began to descend from the hill and soon we were back in the company of the residential area we had passed before. We kept asking ourselves, where did we go wrong?

We had a ways to go until we finally approached our destination. We came upon the industrial road again, and there, in a matter of yards, was the hotel. We could've seen it from the highway, had we been paying attention.

At long last, at around 9:40 p.m.- almost 5 hours for what should've been a road trip that at most, lasted an hour and a half- we arrived at our hotel. I had never been so happy to see a Hampton Inn in my life.

West Virginia: Wild and (Not So) Wonderful

"It's only three directions," Joe said as I was saying my last goodbyes to Georgia and asking him about his Tom-Tom GPS.

We were just about to leave for our overnight trip to the Hollywood Casino in Charlestown, West Virginia where we would meet-up with Joe's parents for dinner and a bit of gambling.

I was excited. Not just because we would get a night away from the responsibility of dog-ownership but we were heading out on a road trip that would be just far away enough to feel like we were really getting away. Plus it was an added bonus to get to see Joe's parents AND play a few slot machines.

Joe assured me his directions were fine and seeing as how we had once been there before we should have little trouble finding our way. I agreed and around 5:30 we took off.

The trip went smooth until we had to start paying attention to the directions. They were few but confusing. I read off the next one and Joe looked quizzical.

"It's supposed to be a left exit, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yes but according to the signs it's on the right," I said trying to decipher his chicken-scratch directions.

In a matter of a few turns we found ourselves driving away from the industrial road and towards a residential area. We conversed while gingerly looking around for the hotel, thinking it would appear in a clearing at some point. The miles clicked away, as did the time, and while Joe was insistent that we were fine since the numbers on the road were going in the right direction I was beginning to get doubtful.

Still we ventured forward, passing storage facilities and beaten up mechanic shops, houses that looked like barns and barns that looked like shacks; now I was starting to get concerned. Joe, the ever optimist, was certain we would find the hotel once we went over this approaching mountain-like hill.

We ascended the hill, grasping onto hairpin turns and hugging the road while leaving room for the occasional passing vehicle. We had a bit of remaining daylight and gasoline going for us, but I was having a hard time keeping my spirits up. I get nervous in the woods, especially in dark, and even more so when I'm lost.

As we paused to make another sharp turn we noticed a sign that read "Wildlife Preserve". Somehow we had accessed restricted grounds and suddenly all I could think was that a bear or mountain lion was waiting to pounce on the car.

With the last shred of daylight quickly dissolving and the inky blackness of the woods beginning to envelope us we finally made it out only to find...nothing. More of the same desolate fields and once-inhabited homes. No sign of a hotel. At long last Joe phoned his folks to let them know our situation.

It was then that I got an idea that would prove to be our savior....

(Part 2 tomorrow)

Service with an Evil Smile

Yes, let me address my own discontent with this frigid weather we are having. It sucks, and it sucks even more because we were taunted with the delightful mild temperatures not but 7 days ago, and now they are calling for snow.

I am quite perturbed at this prospect except for one reason: the possibility of getting out of playing football on Sunday. True by the end (and after my glorious catch) I was having fun. But the idea of playing again...in the cold...and without my fellow female friend/player has me wishing the snow on. I apologize to those willing the opposite to occur.

So I have been absent here because I was catching up on a few tasks I had been putting off (or plain old forgot about). And the theme behind tonight's post is- people who are kind but suck at the same time. You'll get it as you read along...

I was getting something out of the fridge the other day and happened to look up, noticing my appointment card for my dentist. I couldn't believe it had been 6 months already.

It was a blessing and a curse; a blessing because maybe I could set up an appointment to get my tooth sensitivity taken care of once and for all, and a curse because I feared the physical and financial pain to do so.

I went in and was immediately greeted by the receptionist. I then waited a few moments before being called back into the dentist's chair. The hygenist was extremely nice and when she asked if I had had any problems I immediately explained my sensitivity. She said after she was finished with my cleaning she would call the dentist in and see what she could do.

After she was finished my dentist came in I again I launched into a plea about how nothing had been helping and I was really looking for something to permanently help. She offered the idea of getting my teeth bonded, and when she realized she could do it right then, I was whisked away into another room.

Now let me explain, going back to the theme of this post, that everyone in that office is extremely and thoroughly nice and personable. They are great. Which makes it really hard to hate them when it feels like they are employing ancient techniques of dental torture.

The process basically consisted of taking every single painful instance I got from eating something too hot or cold and concentrating it into 4 or 5 minutes of horrifying excruciation. In order to put the material on my teeth she needed to clean and dry the surface. How, you make ask? By blowing chilly air and water directly on my exposed nerve.

I almost wanted to vomit a bit, but the dentist and her assistant were so sweet and kind I didn't want to come off as a bad patient. So I lay there, helpless, and with my mouth agape, praying for the end to come.

Happily it did end rather briefly, but the jury is still out on the sensitivity.

Then later I (thought) I had an appointment to get my oil changed. I had set-up an appointment online and even received confirmation through my email. So I was quite surprised when I had hauled ass to make my appointment only to find out that they had no record of it.

"Um, no, don't see you listed here," the mechanic explained, a wonderfully kind man.

"I don't suppose you'd be able to fit me in anyway?" I asked hopefully.

"Unfortunately I can't," he said smiling. I was disappointed but I couldn't feel that bad when he was making me smile and being so understanding.

So what have we learned? Nice guys finish last. Or they screw you over. But at least they make you smile while doing so.