A very bad thing. I went shopping. And I bought the store.
You see, I put myself on a STRICT clothing budget last June. $100 a month. And I've been sticking to it. (Excuse me, I stuck to it.) You may say, "Hey, that's not strict at all! That's pretty reasonable."
No it's not. I'm DYING here, people! That is a stifling, dream-crushing, soul-consuming meager $100 a month budget. I can barely buy the essential make-up in that budget! And my roots look atrocious. (I guess I should elaborate and say that my $100 budget wasn't just for clothes--it was for making yourself beautiful.) And if the proof of the number of dates I've been on lately means anything, my $100 budget just isn't cutting it.
So you know what I did? I blew it. Absolutely blew it. I blew it the same way an extreme dieter who has eaten only 200 calories a day for 3 weeks goes to The Cheesecake Factory and orders the Orange Chicken dinner dish with the triple layer chocolate cake for dessert.....and eats the whole thing. That pretty much sums up the damage I did today.
But to my credit, I did save over $380 dollars today! You see, I'm a sale shopper. They get me every time. But all of this is for work...so it's basically a lifetime investment anyways. And if I have cute clothes for work, then I'll want to work more and probably end up making more money than I spent today anyway. And I deserve it, damnit! I've been working so hard this year. SO HARD. I am taking 12 hours at SMU, on the rowing team (practice 20 hours a week getting up at 4:50 AM every day) and I also work about 16 hours a week at 2 jobs. I DESERVED THIS!!!
I told two of my friends what I did today...by spreading out everything on my bed and sending them a picture. I got back, "Thata girl!" and "You need help." Can you guess which one buys Prada?
Anyway, I gave all of my excuses (see above) to Friend-who-does-not-buy-Prada and she responded, "Whatever you need to tell yourself..."
Ugh, no support I tell you! If she had come with me when I had asked her, then she could have stopped me. But no, she had to go and fall asleep on her couch. Good Lord, where are your friends when you need them to steal your credit card from you?! I can tell you: Las Vegas, Houston, Florida, Wisconsin and asleep on her couch (it's currently Fall Break).
Soooooooo I basically blew through my budget for the next few months...we'll see how long this holds up. I'll call for back-up if I need it.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Friday, September 30, 2011
Potential Starboy
It's been a year since I have even thought about forming my next relationship at Starbucks.
BUT I moved into a new place this year and now I go to a different Starbucks. It's the Starbucks I swore I'd never go back to - the one off of Hillcrest that, at one time, hosted far too many females for my liking.
I come here regularly (since it's within walking distance from my townhome) but I'm usually busy with school, reading, or downing coffee to notice anyone.
Now, however, I'm far too busy watching the tall, dark and handsome barista making my coffee. (Note: I do like men. I looked up the origin of "barista" just to be sure I was using it right. It is of Italian origin and is used for both males and females. This is a male barista.)
At first I was like, 'I must figure out why he is working at Starbucks! He could be a starving artist peddling his drawings on the street and working here on the side; he could be a jazz musician waiting for the saxophone to return to popularity meanwhile making hot java; he could be a student paying his way through college; he could be a dancer; or this could be his real job.'
To be truthful, I would be fine with all of the options except for the last one. I am a highly ambitious person and I surround myself with people who are the same way. You have to be interesting, want something, work for something, and have that "never say die" attitude. If you're just working at Starbucks and smoking weed on the side, then I'm sorry but it's just not going to work out between us.
After overhearing a conversation between him and a regular, he is a student studying Business. IMPORTANT FACT: he does not go to SMU. Thank God. I'm sorry, but SMU boys are just...well they're driving me nuts. This was music to my ears.
Ok, so now that I've done some covert background research, it is time for action. Next time I think I'll ask him for some water or something with my coffee and hopefully I'll say something funny. We'll see about that.
For now, I'll just keep coming back and spending money on overpriced coffee. But now I have a perfectly good reason to: I'm basically supporting a student trying to achieve his dreams in the Business world.
I should be given a medal.
BUT I moved into a new place this year and now I go to a different Starbucks. It's the Starbucks I swore I'd never go back to - the one off of Hillcrest that, at one time, hosted far too many females for my liking.
I come here regularly (since it's within walking distance from my townhome) but I'm usually busy with school, reading, or downing coffee to notice anyone.
Now, however, I'm far too busy watching the tall, dark and handsome barista making my coffee. (Note: I do like men. I looked up the origin of "barista" just to be sure I was using it right. It is of Italian origin and is used for both males and females. This is a male barista.)
At first I was like, 'I must figure out why he is working at Starbucks! He could be a starving artist peddling his drawings on the street and working here on the side; he could be a jazz musician waiting for the saxophone to return to popularity meanwhile making hot java; he could be a student paying his way through college; he could be a dancer; or this could be his real job.'
To be truthful, I would be fine with all of the options except for the last one. I am a highly ambitious person and I surround myself with people who are the same way. You have to be interesting, want something, work for something, and have that "never say die" attitude. If you're just working at Starbucks and smoking weed on the side, then I'm sorry but it's just not going to work out between us.
After overhearing a conversation between him and a regular, he is a student studying Business. IMPORTANT FACT: he does not go to SMU. Thank God. I'm sorry, but SMU boys are just...well they're driving me nuts. This was music to my ears.
Ok, so now that I've done some covert background research, it is time for action. Next time I think I'll ask him for some water or something with my coffee and hopefully I'll say something funny. We'll see about that.
For now, I'll just keep coming back and spending money on overpriced coffee. But now I have a perfectly good reason to: I'm basically supporting a student trying to achieve his dreams in the Business world.
I should be given a medal.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
The Cutie at Work
So a wave of new people started work at my office on Monday. Among them was an attractive 20-something male. I immediately cursed my decision to not do my hair that day.
I was sitting at my desk doing my work when my boss brought him over to meet me.
"Haley, I want you to meet Walker."
I acted like I had never seen him before in my life and had no idea a hottie was now in close proximity 3 days a week.
"Hi!" I stuck out my hand. "Nice to meet you! Welcome to Swingle Collins!"
My boss gave me a funny look like: 'Why are you in such a good mood at 9 am? P.S. you're doing bitch work today.'
"It's nice to meet you, too Haley," he said. He might as well have gotten down on one knee because, well, he sounded really sincere.
"Haley," my boss started, "We are going to have to move you. Since Walker is a producer (aka a higher position than you), he's going to need your desk."
"Oh no problem at all!" I said. "Let me just grab some of my stuff!" Que big smile. My boss looks at me like: 'Who smiles about getting kicked out of their desk??'
I get up and follow my boss out into the lobby. She then turns to me and goes, "By moving you, I meant that you actually have no desk and no computer now. This is just until the renovations are done in two weeks. For now, just ask Fara, Misty or April if they need help with anything."
Super. All of the stuff I usually do demands a computer. That damn cutie!
"Ok, will do."
So I get work done and Monday is over. P.S. I still haven't found out if he is married yet so that is on the to-do list for Wednesday.
Wednesday rolls around and without a computer or desk, I don't have anything to do. Therefore, I go over and wait by my boss's desk to ask her for something to do. Then, a producer walks up behind me to wait as well and then starts asking me questions: where do I go to school? Why did I choose SMU? What's my major? I start thinking this is odd because I've been here for over a month and everyone in the office already knows about me.
He then asks, "What do you need to ask Michelle (our boss)?"
"Ohh well that new producer needed a desk to work at so I got kicked out of mine so I need work to do that doesn't require a computer," I say.
"Right," he says, "I'm the new producer. Walker, remember?"
My face drops. WTF? I have issues.
"Ohh, right, I was just....umm...I meant that...wellllll..." Thankfully Michelle walks out of her cube and starts asking Walker if he had any trouble signing in. Meanwhile, I am literally cursing myself in my head using any four letter word I can think of. I'm such an idiot.
He turns to go and as he does he says, "Bye, Haley, see you later." Que red face.
I find work to do and then Wednesday is over. I was so embarrassed that I didn't even look for the ring on his finger. I had suffered enough to risk being caught on that.
So it's Friday. I have binders to make and I need my three-hole-punch.
'Perfect!' I think. 'I'll have to go over to my old desk (aka Walker's desk) and get my three-hole-punch.'
I calm down and remind myself what his name is and what he looks like so I don't look so dumb again. I walk over to my old desk and ask him where my three-hole-punch is.
"Umm..I have no idea," he says.
"WHAAAT? You gave away my three-hole-punch?!"
"Ohh, I had no idea they were so important." He smirks.
Trying to gain some composure, I say, "Well, all the other ones in the office suck and that one was brand new." Seriously, if only he knew how awesome that three-hole-punch was and how good ones are so hard to come by, then he wouldn't be looking at me like some psychotic freak who has a mental breakdown over her three-hole-punch. But he doesn't understand. Sigh.
"I think someone may have put it in the supply closet," he says. He is now looking at me with a blank look on his face. I am quickly losing points.
"Ohh, well, that makes perfect sense then. Thanks."
As I am about to turn and walk away, he takes a sip of his coffee with his left hand and there, on his ring finger is a solid gold ring.
"WTF??" I start to think, "WHO drinks using their left hand?? Doesn't he know that when you set a table, the drink goes on the right because everyone drinks with their right hand? I bet he did that on purpose to show that he was taken. Whatever, I can't be with anyone who doesn't understand the severity of a missing three-hole-punch. It obviously wasn't meant to be. It just sucks that our relationship had to come to an end over office supplies...oh and the fact that he's already married. I guess it could have ended over worse things."
I walk back to April's desk, use her three-hole-punch (which isn't as good and I'm having separation anxiety) and resolve that I'm going to be single for the rest of my life.
Oh well, I'm single now and still having the time of my life right? RIGHT!
I was sitting at my desk doing my work when my boss brought him over to meet me.
"Haley, I want you to meet Walker."
I acted like I had never seen him before in my life and had no idea a hottie was now in close proximity 3 days a week.
"Hi!" I stuck out my hand. "Nice to meet you! Welcome to Swingle Collins!"
My boss gave me a funny look like: 'Why are you in such a good mood at 9 am? P.S. you're doing bitch work today.'
"It's nice to meet you, too Haley," he said. He might as well have gotten down on one knee because, well, he sounded really sincere.
"Haley," my boss started, "We are going to have to move you. Since Walker is a producer (aka a higher position than you), he's going to need your desk."
"Oh no problem at all!" I said. "Let me just grab some of my stuff!" Que big smile. My boss looks at me like: 'Who smiles about getting kicked out of their desk??'
I get up and follow my boss out into the lobby. She then turns to me and goes, "By moving you, I meant that you actually have no desk and no computer now. This is just until the renovations are done in two weeks. For now, just ask Fara, Misty or April if they need help with anything."
Super. All of the stuff I usually do demands a computer. That damn cutie!
"Ok, will do."
So I get work done and Monday is over. P.S. I still haven't found out if he is married yet so that is on the to-do list for Wednesday.
Wednesday rolls around and without a computer or desk, I don't have anything to do. Therefore, I go over and wait by my boss's desk to ask her for something to do. Then, a producer walks up behind me to wait as well and then starts asking me questions: where do I go to school? Why did I choose SMU? What's my major? I start thinking this is odd because I've been here for over a month and everyone in the office already knows about me.
He then asks, "What do you need to ask Michelle (our boss)?"
"Ohh well that new producer needed a desk to work at so I got kicked out of mine so I need work to do that doesn't require a computer," I say.
"Right," he says, "I'm the new producer. Walker, remember?"
My face drops. WTF? I have issues.
"Ohh, right, I was just....umm...I meant that...wellllll..." Thankfully Michelle walks out of her cube and starts asking Walker if he had any trouble signing in. Meanwhile, I am literally cursing myself in my head using any four letter word I can think of. I'm such an idiot.
He turns to go and as he does he says, "Bye, Haley, see you later." Que red face.
I find work to do and then Wednesday is over. I was so embarrassed that I didn't even look for the ring on his finger. I had suffered enough to risk being caught on that.
So it's Friday. I have binders to make and I need my three-hole-punch.
'Perfect!' I think. 'I'll have to go over to my old desk (aka Walker's desk) and get my three-hole-punch.'
I calm down and remind myself what his name is and what he looks like so I don't look so dumb again. I walk over to my old desk and ask him where my three-hole-punch is.
"Umm..I have no idea," he says.
"WHAAAT? You gave away my three-hole-punch?!"
"Ohh, I had no idea they were so important." He smirks.
Trying to gain some composure, I say, "Well, all the other ones in the office suck and that one was brand new." Seriously, if only he knew how awesome that three-hole-punch was and how good ones are so hard to come by, then he wouldn't be looking at me like some psychotic freak who has a mental breakdown over her three-hole-punch. But he doesn't understand. Sigh.
"I think someone may have put it in the supply closet," he says. He is now looking at me with a blank look on his face. I am quickly losing points.
"Ohh, well, that makes perfect sense then. Thanks."
As I am about to turn and walk away, he takes a sip of his coffee with his left hand and there, on his ring finger is a solid gold ring.
"WTF??" I start to think, "WHO drinks using their left hand?? Doesn't he know that when you set a table, the drink goes on the right because everyone drinks with their right hand? I bet he did that on purpose to show that he was taken. Whatever, I can't be with anyone who doesn't understand the severity of a missing three-hole-punch. It obviously wasn't meant to be. It just sucks that our relationship had to come to an end over office supplies...oh and the fact that he's already married. I guess it could have ended over worse things."
I walk back to April's desk, use her three-hole-punch (which isn't as good and I'm having separation anxiety) and resolve that I'm going to be single for the rest of my life.
Oh well, I'm single now and still having the time of my life right? RIGHT!
Thursday, September 22, 2011
The time I got hit by a car and lived to tell the tale...
This occurred last night.
First, I must preface this story by saying I did this to myself. Usually all of my mis-haps occur because of some idiotic situation I put MYSELF in. Ehhh whatever - at least I keep things interesting.
So I rode my bike to a friend's house last night for a house-warming party. I had just finished a grueling practice and was exhausted, but I wanted to go anyway. I get there, have a great time, and then it's time to leave.
I walk out with a few friends and they're like, "You rode your bike here?!" Let me also say that everyone at this party was over the age of 25 and a few years out of college. Therefore, they only ride bikes when they are stationary at the gym and have lost all touch with the concept that people actually enjoy riding bikes rather than driving their car and spending money on gas.
Anyway, I'm like, "Uhh yeah, so?"
"Well, that's just stupid. You can get a BUI."
"What's a BUI??"
"Biking Under the Influence." (HAHAAHA)
"I only drank water here."
"But still. It's dangerous."
"I ride on the sidewalk."
"Well, do you have a helmet?"
"No."
"Lights?"
"No."
"A bell?"
"What?? No."
"Haley! Please tell me you at least have brakes on your bike!"
"Do you think I'm stupid?! OF COURSE I have brakes!"
"That bike looks unsafe. How old is it anyway?"
"Well, it was my grandmothers so I think it was made in the mid 1950s."
"You. Are. Joking. Me."
My friend Matt walks over.
"Here, Haley, I found this for you in the garage."
*Holds up a hideous neon green vest with reflectors on it*
"What the hell is that?! I'm not wearing that!"
"How are people going to see you? You are going to get hit!"
"I'm not going to get hit. I already told you I ride on the sidewalk and no cars ride on the sidewalk. If they do, they are going to be in some trouble, not me. Besides, I'm wearing a hot pink shirt - it's good enough."
"Haley, that's not hot pink. That's a faded baby pink and it basically looks white in the dark."
"Same thing."
*all sigh in exasperation*
"I feel like we should follow you home in our car."
"Don't be silly! I'll be fine. I do this all the time."
"This just doesn't seem safe to me."
"Don't you talk to me about safety, missy! If your sister only knew some of the things you did."
"If you tell her, I'll kill you."
"I won't tell her. Just let me ride in peace."
"Ugh fine, but text us when you get home."
"Will do."
So I'm riding home and it's a really nice ride. People out at bars are giving me funny looks like they've never seen a bike before. Seriously, people.
So I'm about to cross a street and I totally have the right-of-way. I'm watching the cars to make sure they see me and I see them and they aren't going to run this red light and hit me. I have a feeling in my gut about this one car and my gut is telling me just to wait a little but then all of a sudden my feet start peddaling.
Then the car starts to go! I'm right in front of the car and he doesn't see me! So I put my foot out in front of the car to keep him from hitting my bike and then he finally sees me but not in time. Contact is made.
I'm knocked off my bike but I don't fall over. You can thank my stabilization exercises from rowing workouts for that. The man rolls down his window starts apologizing immensely and is about to get out of his car when I convince him I'm fine. I cross the crosswalk walking my bike and I try to get back on but the seat is all twisted. DAMNIT! I spend a few minutes trying to sit on my all twisted up seat and resolve that it's just too uncomfortable and I'll have to walk my bike the remaining mile home. I take a few steps and I'm like, "This is ridiculous. I'm not walking all the way home." So I take a few minutes, fix my bike, and then it's ride-able again. I go home and go to bed and check the status of myself and my bike.
No blood, no bruises, and the bike is fine. Ok, all good. Time for bed. I was tired!
The End.
First, I must preface this story by saying I did this to myself. Usually all of my mis-haps occur because of some idiotic situation I put MYSELF in. Ehhh whatever - at least I keep things interesting.
So I rode my bike to a friend's house last night for a house-warming party. I had just finished a grueling practice and was exhausted, but I wanted to go anyway. I get there, have a great time, and then it's time to leave.
I walk out with a few friends and they're like, "You rode your bike here?!" Let me also say that everyone at this party was over the age of 25 and a few years out of college. Therefore, they only ride bikes when they are stationary at the gym and have lost all touch with the concept that people actually enjoy riding bikes rather than driving their car and spending money on gas.
Anyway, I'm like, "Uhh yeah, so?"
"Well, that's just stupid. You can get a BUI."
"What's a BUI??"
"Biking Under the Influence." (HAHAAHA)
"I only drank water here."
"But still. It's dangerous."
"I ride on the sidewalk."
"Well, do you have a helmet?"
"No."
"Lights?"
"No."
"A bell?"
"What?? No."
"Haley! Please tell me you at least have brakes on your bike!"
"Do you think I'm stupid?! OF COURSE I have brakes!"
"That bike looks unsafe. How old is it anyway?"
"Well, it was my grandmothers so I think it was made in the mid 1950s."
"You. Are. Joking. Me."
My friend Matt walks over.
"Here, Haley, I found this for you in the garage."
*Holds up a hideous neon green vest with reflectors on it*
"What the hell is that?! I'm not wearing that!"
"How are people going to see you? You are going to get hit!"
"I'm not going to get hit. I already told you I ride on the sidewalk and no cars ride on the sidewalk. If they do, they are going to be in some trouble, not me. Besides, I'm wearing a hot pink shirt - it's good enough."
"Haley, that's not hot pink. That's a faded baby pink and it basically looks white in the dark."
"Same thing."
*all sigh in exasperation*
"I feel like we should follow you home in our car."
"Don't be silly! I'll be fine. I do this all the time."
"This just doesn't seem safe to me."
"Don't you talk to me about safety, missy! If your sister only knew some of the things you did."
"If you tell her, I'll kill you."
"I won't tell her. Just let me ride in peace."
"Ugh fine, but text us when you get home."
"Will do."
So I'm riding home and it's a really nice ride. People out at bars are giving me funny looks like they've never seen a bike before. Seriously, people.
So I'm about to cross a street and I totally have the right-of-way. I'm watching the cars to make sure they see me and I see them and they aren't going to run this red light and hit me. I have a feeling in my gut about this one car and my gut is telling me just to wait a little but then all of a sudden my feet start peddaling.
Then the car starts to go! I'm right in front of the car and he doesn't see me! So I put my foot out in front of the car to keep him from hitting my bike and then he finally sees me but not in time. Contact is made.
I'm knocked off my bike but I don't fall over. You can thank my stabilization exercises from rowing workouts for that. The man rolls down his window starts apologizing immensely and is about to get out of his car when I convince him I'm fine. I cross the crosswalk walking my bike and I try to get back on but the seat is all twisted. DAMNIT! I spend a few minutes trying to sit on my all twisted up seat and resolve that it's just too uncomfortable and I'll have to walk my bike the remaining mile home. I take a few steps and I'm like, "This is ridiculous. I'm not walking all the way home." So I take a few minutes, fix my bike, and then it's ride-able again. I go home and go to bed and check the status of myself and my bike.
No blood, no bruises, and the bike is fine. Ok, all good. Time for bed. I was tired!
The End.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
I love my dad
This is going to be one of the lamest posts ever but whatever. If you don't want to read it, then don't.
I love my dad. He is one of the best people I've ever met. Honestly. He is always looking out for other people and is always thinking ahead. He wants what is best for everyone and always gives really good advice.
I talk to him on the phone almost every day telling him what's going on and asking him what I should do about this or that. Seriously. You may say, "You are a 21 year old woman! Stand on your own two feet for Pete's sake!" But why would I want to do that when I still have my daddy?
He has challenged me, pushed me, helped me up when I've fallen, not helped me up when I had to learn how to get up on my own, made me do things I didn't want to do but had benefits beyond my wildest dreams (he made me start rowing which landed me a scholarship at SMU, the school I love), taught me the value of a hard days work, taught me how to enjoy the money you have worked so hard for, helped me seek and find balance, serenity, peace and happiness.
He has been incredibly supportive. I would not have made it through some of my tough times without him there to keep me going and I certainly would not be there person I am today.
You know that that story of the man walking in the sand and during some of his hardest times there were only one pair of footprints because Jesus said, "Well I was carrying you."? Well I'm pretty sure in my version those footprints are my dad's.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
The Receptionist is on to me...
So I finally have time for a new blog post. Not really, but still.
"Umm..is that all the lamps they have to offer?"
Anyway, I started a new job at a new insurance brokerage firm. And no, I did not get kicked out of the last one for my shenanigans. That was an internship that had a pre-set ending date, thank you very much.
On the first day of work, I immediately began sizing up my coworkers to see who would be my friend, who could take a joke, and who would forever think of me as an immature 21-year-old (guilty). My task that day was to shadow the receptionist. She would show me how to work the phones, introduce me to people around the office and basically orient me to the company. Having a 45 year difference between us was difficult, to say the least. Even though we were both female and spoke English, there was definitely a barrier: generational, that is. Needless to say, we didn't see things the same way. No, there is no animosity between us; we respect each other very much. We just see and sense things differently. Hence, my suspicion of her suspicion of me.
On the second day of work, I read the employee manual. On page 64 section B part 2, there was a description of disallowed activities in the office workspace. A few lines down, I read, "No horseplay, joking around, or pranks. No unapproved tape recorders or voice recorders. Keep recreational conversation to a minimum." WHAAAAAAAAT?! I dropped my head in disappointment and I think I even shed a tear (or is that my allergies?). Regardless, that may as well have been a death sentence, "WHAT am I going to do at work?!" I thought in exasperation, "I literally don't know what to do with myself now."
Surprisingly, the thing I was most upset about was the whole tape-recording thing. My friend gave me this great practical joke idea where you put a sign on the copier saying that it is now voice activated with "the password". People are confused and don't know what "the password" is so they start yelling out random passwords at a copier that is unresponsive (because it's not voice activated). You record the whole thing. Well obviously this is now impossible. Sigh.
I walk into the lobby where the receptionist is and ask for a pen so I can sign the employee manual. It takes me about a minute of staring at the signature line wondering if I really want to agree to no pranks but I resolve that I do want this job. The receptionist gives me a sideways look and goes, "Are you going to sign that?"
"Umm, yes, I'm just looking for the line..."
"It's right here." *points*
"Oh, yes, right."
"Did you read the whole thing?"
*I look up*
She's either thinking, "Kids these days never read anything if it's not on a computer or tomigotchi," "I hope she read page 64, section B, part 2 twice," or "Have I checked the mail yet?"
I give her my paper and drag my feet back to my desk.
On the third day of work, my boss realized I was working in the dark. The way my cubicle was set up blocked out a lot of light. She decided I needed a lamp. I brightened up a bit. I was thinking I got to pick out my lamp that would go at my desk. Wrong.
After lunch, the receptionist calls me over to look at some of the lamps she picked out for me. One word to describe all of them: BORING.
*Sideways glance* "Well I thought these would offer you the most light."
"Well, umm, are there more pages of lamps?"
"I really think these are your best bet."
A stare-down ensues. I give way to seniority.
"All right..."
I got a lamp like this:
When I really wanted a lamp like this:
I bet she knew it too.
On day 4, I brought a salad to work. She saw me eating in the break room and said, "Salad, huh?" I stopped chewing for a moment to decide what her comment actually meant. She either said, "You're a fat chick at heart; you're not fooling anyone," "There's no way you can eat a salad every day and be satisfied," or "That looks like a really good salad."
We broke eye contact and I resumed chewing.
On the 5th day, Friday, I came to work with barely any make-up on, my hair pulled into a tight bun and a headband on. Yes, I went out Thursday night and woke up too late to do my make-up or fix my hair. Therefore, the headband was a failed attempt to cover up my God-awful hair.
"Nice headband."
"Thanks."
I walked to my desk and sat down. I paused. Wait, was that sarcasm? Did I see a smirk on her face as she "complimented" me or am I imagining that? Let's think....
She was really saying, "I know you were out late last night," "You look like shit," or "I like that headband." Just as I was about to run into the lobby yelling, "You are NOT my mother," a co-worker stopped by my desk for a memo and said, "Oh, Haley, I like your headband."
Ok, so either everyone thinks I look like shit today or likes my headband. Or thinks I'm 12 years old.
So that was my first week. Looking forward to many more.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
The Office: The Grand Finale
So Kelly is the brains of this whole Russian Mafia Operation and I suppose I am the carrier-outer. Whatever. I like it.
Friday was our last day and we decided we needed to tell Nathan the truth....but NOT without one last addition. AKA the GRAND FINALE.
We decide that Toby has been fired. Rather, Kelly informs me that Marsha (our boss) received an anonymous phone call that if Toby is not fired, the entire office's safety is in jeopardy. Therefore, to protect the 70+ people, Marsha must quietly inform Toby that he must clean out his desk and remove himself from the office and speak to no one of this incident.
Conveniently, Kelly and I have meetings with Marsha Friday morning. This is when she lets such private information "slip out" and thus we are the only ones privy to the information, duh.
We inform Nathan of recent occurrences during lunch as always.
He sits down and asks how our meetings with Marsha went.
Kelly: "Mine went pretty well. She liked the work I did this summer. She did let something interesting slip out, however...Toby has been fired. But she told me not to tell anyone."
Me: "No way! She told me that too! But she told me not to tell anyone. And then she felt bad for saying it..."
Nathan: "Oh my God. Are you guys serious?! Why did Toby get fired??? It's the gambling thing, isn't it?! I knew it!"
Me: "Nathan, I seriously doubt Toby is in trouble for gambling. For real, he is in the middle of building a new house. And he is money-savy. He's not stupid enough to get in so much debt."
Kelly: "Yeah, I don't know what it is, but he's moving out during lunch. You should see his office when we get back. All of his stuff is gone!"
Nathan: "OHMIGOD! You're kidding! I have to see!"
As soon as lunch is over, we get in the elevator and ride up to our floor. Nathan is looking expectantly at our floor number and trying to use his super-mental powers to get us there quicker. The doors open and he runs down the hall....
.....to see Toby quietly working at his desk.
"Hi, Nathan." Toby says. (He knows what's up)
Nathan: "But...Kelly and Haley said you were fired."
Me: "Nathan, there is something we have to tell you..."
Kelly and I start giggling.
"....Toby isn't being hunted by the Russian Mafia."
Nathan: "He isn't?! ARE YOU SURE?!"
Kelly: "Yes, we're sure."
Me: "We made the whole thing up."
Nathan: "But...you were so serious...and convincing."
Me: "I know. You actually gave us the idea when you told us the story about Toby being guarded by security at his old job."
Nathan: "OH my gosh! I forgot I told you that!"
Me: "Yeah...we kind of took that and ran with it. And then we made up the whole vandalized car story and changed name and being fired and everything. You almost did more work than us with your deciding he was an indebted pool shark and his last name used to be Kowasaki and everything."
Nathan: "But you said it all with such a straight face!"
Me: "Actually, I was laughing the whole time but you never noticed because you always giggle as well."
Nathan: "That's true I suppose..."
Kelly: "And you never questioned the whole 'person-slamming-their-hands-into-the-windshield-without-any-blood-or-evidence' thing."
Nathan: "Now that you mention it, that does sound kind of fishy...."
We are all laughing hysterically, even Nathan, Marsha and Toby.
Nathan: "You know, I was really scared of Toby. I thought that if I associated myself with him that the Russian Mafia might come after me as well. I even told my parents."
Me: "YOU TOLD YOUR PARENTS?!" I'm actually quite concerned. This is serious.
Nathan: "Yeah, I told my dad the whole story and then I asked him if it was safe to continue working here. He said, 'That sure is interesting, son.'"
Toby: "You see, Haley! Your actions could have repurcussions! Nathan could have quit his job over nothing and been jobless!" He is being half-kidding...I think.
Me: "Oh well it was a harmless prank and everything is good now..." (Dodged a freaking bullet, I tell you.)
Nathan: "You're telling me! I started looking for clues around Toby's office about how he's not a real Texan. I mean, he has that huge Texas flag on his wall. Now seriously, who else besides a non-Texan who is trying to convince others he is Texan needs a huge ostentatious flag on his wall like that?"
Me: "I don't know, maybe a proud Texan?"
Nathan: "Shut up, Haley. Anyway, I also started looking at pictures of his kids and began thinking they were fake. I mean, they didn't look that much like him. They could have been posers for all I know. And that whole story about him babysitting his grandkids? Come on. He doesn't look old enough to have grand kids. And even so, if those kids aren't his real kids, then he doesn't have real grand kids."
Kelly: "See what I mean, Nathan? You did just as much work as us with keeping this whole thing going!"
Nathan: "I suppose you're right. Even so, I'm glad you told me before you left so I'm not afraid of Toby for the rest of my life."
And then we all bust out into fits of laughter again. Nathan walks Kelly and I to our car.
Nathan: "I don't know what I am going to do without you guys. I really am going to miss you."
Kelly: "Well perhaps you will have to hire us as your personal assistants/entertainers."
Nathan: "I will try to factor that into the budget."
Honestly, I actually will miss that place. And all the potential pranks that await there.
Friday was our last day and we decided we needed to tell Nathan the truth....but NOT without one last addition. AKA the GRAND FINALE.
We decide that Toby has been fired. Rather, Kelly informs me that Marsha (our boss) received an anonymous phone call that if Toby is not fired, the entire office's safety is in jeopardy. Therefore, to protect the 70+ people, Marsha must quietly inform Toby that he must clean out his desk and remove himself from the office and speak to no one of this incident.
Conveniently, Kelly and I have meetings with Marsha Friday morning. This is when she lets such private information "slip out" and thus we are the only ones privy to the information, duh.
We inform Nathan of recent occurrences during lunch as always.
He sits down and asks how our meetings with Marsha went.
Kelly: "Mine went pretty well. She liked the work I did this summer. She did let something interesting slip out, however...Toby has been fired. But she told me not to tell anyone."
Me: "No way! She told me that too! But she told me not to tell anyone. And then she felt bad for saying it..."
Nathan: "Oh my God. Are you guys serious?! Why did Toby get fired??? It's the gambling thing, isn't it?! I knew it!"
Me: "Nathan, I seriously doubt Toby is in trouble for gambling. For real, he is in the middle of building a new house. And he is money-savy. He's not stupid enough to get in so much debt."
Kelly: "Yeah, I don't know what it is, but he's moving out during lunch. You should see his office when we get back. All of his stuff is gone!"
Nathan: "OHMIGOD! You're kidding! I have to see!"
As soon as lunch is over, we get in the elevator and ride up to our floor. Nathan is looking expectantly at our floor number and trying to use his super-mental powers to get us there quicker. The doors open and he runs down the hall....
.....to see Toby quietly working at his desk.
"Hi, Nathan." Toby says. (He knows what's up)
Nathan: "But...Kelly and Haley said you were fired."
Me: "Nathan, there is something we have to tell you..."
Kelly and I start giggling.
"....Toby isn't being hunted by the Russian Mafia."
Nathan: "He isn't?! ARE YOU SURE?!"
Kelly: "Yes, we're sure."
Me: "We made the whole thing up."
Nathan: "But...you were so serious...and convincing."
Me: "I know. You actually gave us the idea when you told us the story about Toby being guarded by security at his old job."
Nathan: "OH my gosh! I forgot I told you that!"
Me: "Yeah...we kind of took that and ran with it. And then we made up the whole vandalized car story and changed name and being fired and everything. You almost did more work than us with your deciding he was an indebted pool shark and his last name used to be Kowasaki and everything."
Nathan: "But you said it all with such a straight face!"
Me: "Actually, I was laughing the whole time but you never noticed because you always giggle as well."
Nathan: "That's true I suppose..."
Kelly: "And you never questioned the whole 'person-slamming-their-hands-into-the-windshield-without-any-blood-or-evidence' thing."
Nathan: "Now that you mention it, that does sound kind of fishy...."
We are all laughing hysterically, even Nathan, Marsha and Toby.
Nathan: "You know, I was really scared of Toby. I thought that if I associated myself with him that the Russian Mafia might come after me as well. I even told my parents."
Me: "YOU TOLD YOUR PARENTS?!" I'm actually quite concerned. This is serious.
Nathan: "Yeah, I told my dad the whole story and then I asked him if it was safe to continue working here. He said, 'That sure is interesting, son.'"
Toby: "You see, Haley! Your actions could have repurcussions! Nathan could have quit his job over nothing and been jobless!" He is being half-kidding...I think.
Me: "Oh well it was a harmless prank and everything is good now..." (Dodged a freaking bullet, I tell you.)
Nathan: "You're telling me! I started looking for clues around Toby's office about how he's not a real Texan. I mean, he has that huge Texas flag on his wall. Now seriously, who else besides a non-Texan who is trying to convince others he is Texan needs a huge ostentatious flag on his wall like that?"
Me: "I don't know, maybe a proud Texan?"
Nathan: "Shut up, Haley. Anyway, I also started looking at pictures of his kids and began thinking they were fake. I mean, they didn't look that much like him. They could have been posers for all I know. And that whole story about him babysitting his grandkids? Come on. He doesn't look old enough to have grand kids. And even so, if those kids aren't his real kids, then he doesn't have real grand kids."
Kelly: "See what I mean, Nathan? You did just as much work as us with keeping this whole thing going!"
Nathan: "I suppose you're right. Even so, I'm glad you told me before you left so I'm not afraid of Toby for the rest of my life."
And then we all bust out into fits of laughter again. Nathan walks Kelly and I to our car.
Nathan: "I don't know what I am going to do without you guys. I really am going to miss you."
Kelly: "Well perhaps you will have to hire us as your personal assistants/entertainers."
Nathan: "I will try to factor that into the budget."
Honestly, I actually will miss that place. And all the potential pranks that await there.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
The Office: Part Deux
It’s the last week of our internship so Kelly and I thought it necessary to continue with the whole Toby-is-hiding-from-the-Russian-Mafia thing. We’re brainstorming Tuesday morning when Kelly all of a sudden decides we’re giving Toby a ride home that evening.
Me: “Whyyyyy are we giving Toby a ride home?”
Kelly: “Because someone vandalized his car last night so he couldn’t drive to work today. His wife dropped him off but she can’t pick him up.”
Me: “Perfect! He’ll ask us because we already carpool—so he’ll just want to join.”
Kelly: “Ok, sure.”
Me: “I can’t wait for lunch.”
Kelly and I are eating in the cafeteria when Nathan joins. Immediately upon arriving, Nathan informs us for the 5th time today that he has a few meetings in the afternoon. I take this as the perfect opportunity to carry out Operation B.S.
Me: “What time are your meetings today, Nathan?”
Nathan: “2:00, 2:30, and 3:00.”
Me: “Do you have anything to do after that or are you just going to go home?”
Nathan: “Ohhh that’s a good idea! No, I don’t have anything to do.”
Me: “Lucky! Kelly and I have to stay until 5:30 today!”
Nathan: (shocked) “Why? You never stay that late.”
Kelly: “I know. We have to give Toby a ride home.”
Nathan: “YOU HAVE TO GIVE TOBY A RIDE HOME?! Oh man, are you serious? Do you know where he lives?”
Kelly and I exchange nervous glances—we hadn’t thought that far.
Kelly: “No, he didn’t tell us. I think we are meeting his wife somewhere though.”
Me: "We're on a need-to-know basis."
Nathan: “Oh good! Because he lives like 45 minutes away in ___.”
Me: "As far as you know..."
Nathan: “Wait, WHY are you giving TOBY a ride home?”
Kelly: “Because he doesn’t have a car.”
Nathan: “What? Why doesn’t he have a car?”
Kelly: “He went out to his car this morning and someone had taken like a baseball bat to it this morning and broke the windshield in. He couldn’t drive it to work today so his wife dropped him off.”
Nathan: “Oh my gosh! Are you serious?! WHY is Toby a target??”
Me: “I don’t know, but I feel so bad.”
Nathan: “Ok, what is going on with Toby? There’s no way people are after him because he’s a claims adjuster for an insurance broker. There has to be something going on. Maybe he got into some gambling trouble and doesn’t have the money to get out of it.”
I can’t even look at Kelly or else I’ll laugh hysterically and blow it.
Me: “No way. He’s building a new house. There’s no way he could build a new house if he is being threatened for his life for gambling.”
Nathan: “Hmm…I guess so. But there has got to be something else going on here. So it was a baseball bat?”
Kelly: “Well, they don’t know if it was a baseball bat exactly. It could be anything: a crow bar, a person pushing someone else really hard into the car, a pole, or someone just hit the windshield really hard with their hands.”
I am about to start cracking up. Is it possible to break a windshield by hitting it? Not only that, but no blood?
This is of no concern to Nathan.
Nathan: “Well, ugh, why is he telling YOU TWO all of this? I was talking to him earlier for 30 minutes and he didn’t tell me anything!”
Me: “I don’t know. It’s probably because we are women and women are more sympathetic than men. If he told another guy in the office that someone busted his car up, they’d probably just say, ‘Oh suck it up.’”
Nathan: “I wouldn’t. I’ve been trying to talk to him a lot lately and be there for him. I mean, I’m probably his 3rd best friend in the office after you two.”
I’m dying.
Me: “Well he’ll probably confide in you a lot more when we leave here on Friday.”
Nathan: “Ok, yeah, good.”
So we go back upstairs after lunch and I have to inform Toby of recent events.
I tell him, “So….I just gave Nathan an update on your ‘life’.”
Toby: “OHHH NOOOOO! (laughing) Is that why when he just walked by here he gave me a funny look?”
Me: “Haha yeah probably.”
Toby: “I can’t believe he believes you! This is too good—I have to get in on this. Perhaps HR would like to as well….”
Me: “Whyyyyy are we giving Toby a ride home?”
Kelly: “Because someone vandalized his car last night so he couldn’t drive to work today. His wife dropped him off but she can’t pick him up.”
Me: “Perfect! He’ll ask us because we already carpool—so he’ll just want to join.”
Kelly: “Ok, sure.”
Me: “I can’t wait for lunch.”
Kelly and I are eating in the cafeteria when Nathan joins. Immediately upon arriving, Nathan informs us for the 5th time today that he has a few meetings in the afternoon. I take this as the perfect opportunity to carry out Operation B.S.
Me: “What time are your meetings today, Nathan?”
Nathan: “2:00, 2:30, and 3:00.”
Me: “Do you have anything to do after that or are you just going to go home?”
Nathan: “Ohhh that’s a good idea! No, I don’t have anything to do.”
Me: “Lucky! Kelly and I have to stay until 5:30 today!”
Nathan: (shocked) “Why? You never stay that late.”
Kelly: “I know. We have to give Toby a ride home.”
Nathan: “YOU HAVE TO GIVE TOBY A RIDE HOME?! Oh man, are you serious? Do you know where he lives?”
Kelly and I exchange nervous glances—we hadn’t thought that far.
Kelly: “No, he didn’t tell us. I think we are meeting his wife somewhere though.”
Me: "We're on a need-to-know basis."
Nathan: “Oh good! Because he lives like 45 minutes away in ___.”
Me: "As far as you know..."
Nathan: “Wait, WHY are you giving TOBY a ride home?”
Kelly: “Because he doesn’t have a car.”
Nathan: “What? Why doesn’t he have a car?”
Kelly: “He went out to his car this morning and someone had taken like a baseball bat to it this morning and broke the windshield in. He couldn’t drive it to work today so his wife dropped him off.”
Nathan: “Oh my gosh! Are you serious?! WHY is Toby a target??”
Me: “I don’t know, but I feel so bad.”
Nathan: “Ok, what is going on with Toby? There’s no way people are after him because he’s a claims adjuster for an insurance broker. There has to be something going on. Maybe he got into some gambling trouble and doesn’t have the money to get out of it.”
I can’t even look at Kelly or else I’ll laugh hysterically and blow it.
Me: “No way. He’s building a new house. There’s no way he could build a new house if he is being threatened for his life for gambling.”
Nathan: “Hmm…I guess so. But there has got to be something else going on here. So it was a baseball bat?”
Kelly: “Well, they don’t know if it was a baseball bat exactly. It could be anything: a crow bar, a person pushing someone else really hard into the car, a pole, or someone just hit the windshield really hard with their hands.”
I am about to start cracking up. Is it possible to break a windshield by hitting it? Not only that, but no blood?
This is of no concern to Nathan.
Nathan: “Well, ugh, why is he telling YOU TWO all of this? I was talking to him earlier for 30 minutes and he didn’t tell me anything!”
Me: “I don’t know. It’s probably because we are women and women are more sympathetic than men. If he told another guy in the office that someone busted his car up, they’d probably just say, ‘Oh suck it up.’”
Nathan: “I wouldn’t. I’ve been trying to talk to him a lot lately and be there for him. I mean, I’m probably his 3rd best friend in the office after you two.”
I’m dying.
Me: “Well he’ll probably confide in you a lot more when we leave here on Friday.”
Nathan: “Ok, yeah, good.”
So we go back upstairs after lunch and I have to inform Toby of recent events.
I tell him, “So….I just gave Nathan an update on your ‘life’.”
Toby: “OHHH NOOOOO! (laughing) Is that why when he just walked by here he gave me a funny look?”
Me: “Haha yeah probably.”
Toby: “I can’t believe he believes you! This is too good—I have to get in on this. Perhaps HR would like to as well….”
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
The Office: Operation B.S.
I’m horrible at lying. However, I can never pass up the opportunity to pull the wool over someone’s eyes (see Interpret What You Will of December 2010).
Usually my friends can tell I’m lying because I can’t help smiling and laughing when I’m telling them something ridiculous. My co-worker, however, laughs enough on his own that when I’m playing a practical joke on him, I can laugh away and he still believes me. But whenever I’m about to start laughing so hard and am about to give my joke away, I have to put a bite in my mouth to keep myself from howling with laughter (we are usually at lunch when my bull****ing commences).
Anyway, this began last week at lunch when Kelly, Nathan and I were at lunch. We ask Nathan how his meeting with Toby went and he replies, “Good, good, it all went very well. You know, he told me some crazy stories about when he was in claims at this other company in the northeast (we work in the insurance industry). The Russian Mafia would call him and tell him to give them the money for their cars that crashed and he wouldn’t because they did it on purpose and that’s insurance fraud and that’s illegal. Anyway, they told him to ‘Watch yo self’ and then later there was a black tinted low-rider circling his building. He had to call for an escort out. You know, some people have to get help from some sort of service and go into hiding after stuff like that.”
Kelly: “Yeah, like they have to change their names and stuff.”
Nathan (misinterpreting Kelly’s comment): “Oh my gosh! Did Toby change his name?!”
This is when a light bulb goes off in my head and I immediately seize the opportunity presented.
Me: “You mean you didn’t know?!”
Nathan: “No! How do you know?? I had no idea!”
Me: “Well Kelly and I started working here the same day as Toby and he looked a little unnerved. I started talking to him but he wasn’t responding. I kept saying, ‘Toby…Toby…Toby? Are you ok?’ And he just looked at me with a confused look on his face and goes, ‘Who’s Toby?’ I was really surprised and said, ‘Uhh…that’s your name isn’t it?’ He got all fidgety and nervous and said, ‘Oh yes, yeah my name is Toby. Yes that is my name.’ So then I made him tell me why he didn’t know his own name and he was so flustered he ended up telling me the whole story. He and his family had to move from the northeast to Texas and change their name and everything. It’s been really hard on his kids.”
Nathan: “I KNEW his name wasn’t Toby! He looks half-asian or something. And his last name? I mean come on, that’s not his real last name. He had to have changed it from Kowasaki or something. This is insane.”
Me: “I know! But don’t tell anyone. I don’t think he wants the whole office to know because he’s just trying to stay low key and rebuild his life. He doesn’t want any special treatment.”
Nathan: “Oh yeah sure, sure. Of course. Wait, isn’t he moving into a new house?”
Me: “Yeah, they’re building one right now. His family is currently staying in an extended-stay hotel.” (This is actually true. It helps to have some truth to a prank. It makes it easier and more believable.)
Nathan: “Are you sure? He told me they were living in a small house.”
Me: “No, he told me they were staying in a hotel.”
Nathan: “Well, I’m positive he told me a small house.”
Me: “It sounds like he needs to get his story straight before telling people where he “lives”.”
Nathan: “Yeah, this is a pretty serious predicament. He shouldn’t just be going around telling people different things. They are bound to figure it out.”
Me: “I agree.”
Nathan: “Well I’m going to try to get to the bottom of this. I’m gonna talk to him more often and see if he tells me anything.”
Me: “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. He’s in a really fragile place right now.”
Nathan: “I’ll be discreet.”
So lunch ends and we go back to work. I am almost peeing my pants in the elevator and HAVE to tell Toby what I just did. I immediately go to his office and recount the entire tale. He says, “You are terrible! I can’t believe he believed you!”
Me: “I know! I’m sorry, but it was just too good to pass up. I’ll tell him before Kelly and I’s last day, I promise.”
Toby: “Ok, but we’ll have a little fun before you guys leave.”
Sounds like a plan.
Usually my friends can tell I’m lying because I can’t help smiling and laughing when I’m telling them something ridiculous. My co-worker, however, laughs enough on his own that when I’m playing a practical joke on him, I can laugh away and he still believes me. But whenever I’m about to start laughing so hard and am about to give my joke away, I have to put a bite in my mouth to keep myself from howling with laughter (we are usually at lunch when my bull****ing commences).
Anyway, this began last week at lunch when Kelly, Nathan and I were at lunch. We ask Nathan how his meeting with Toby went and he replies, “Good, good, it all went very well. You know, he told me some crazy stories about when he was in claims at this other company in the northeast (we work in the insurance industry). The Russian Mafia would call him and tell him to give them the money for their cars that crashed and he wouldn’t because they did it on purpose and that’s insurance fraud and that’s illegal. Anyway, they told him to ‘Watch yo self’ and then later there was a black tinted low-rider circling his building. He had to call for an escort out. You know, some people have to get help from some sort of service and go into hiding after stuff like that.”
Kelly: “Yeah, like they have to change their names and stuff.”
Nathan (misinterpreting Kelly’s comment): “Oh my gosh! Did Toby change his name?!”
This is when a light bulb goes off in my head and I immediately seize the opportunity presented.
Me: “You mean you didn’t know?!”
Nathan: “No! How do you know?? I had no idea!”
Me: “Well Kelly and I started working here the same day as Toby and he looked a little unnerved. I started talking to him but he wasn’t responding. I kept saying, ‘Toby…Toby…Toby? Are you ok?’ And he just looked at me with a confused look on his face and goes, ‘Who’s Toby?’ I was really surprised and said, ‘Uhh…that’s your name isn’t it?’ He got all fidgety and nervous and said, ‘Oh yes, yeah my name is Toby. Yes that is my name.’ So then I made him tell me why he didn’t know his own name and he was so flustered he ended up telling me the whole story. He and his family had to move from the northeast to Texas and change their name and everything. It’s been really hard on his kids.”
Nathan: “I KNEW his name wasn’t Toby! He looks half-asian or something. And his last name? I mean come on, that’s not his real last name. He had to have changed it from Kowasaki or something. This is insane.”
Me: “I know! But don’t tell anyone. I don’t think he wants the whole office to know because he’s just trying to stay low key and rebuild his life. He doesn’t want any special treatment.”
Nathan: “Oh yeah sure, sure. Of course. Wait, isn’t he moving into a new house?”
Me: “Yeah, they’re building one right now. His family is currently staying in an extended-stay hotel.” (This is actually true. It helps to have some truth to a prank. It makes it easier and more believable.)
Nathan: “Are you sure? He told me they were living in a small house.”
Me: “No, he told me they were staying in a hotel.”
Nathan: “Well, I’m positive he told me a small house.”
Me: “It sounds like he needs to get his story straight before telling people where he “lives”.”
Nathan: “Yeah, this is a pretty serious predicament. He shouldn’t just be going around telling people different things. They are bound to figure it out.”
Me: “I agree.”
Nathan: “Well I’m going to try to get to the bottom of this. I’m gonna talk to him more often and see if he tells me anything.”
Me: “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. He’s in a really fragile place right now.”
Nathan: “I’ll be discreet.”
So lunch ends and we go back to work. I am almost peeing my pants in the elevator and HAVE to tell Toby what I just did. I immediately go to his office and recount the entire tale. He says, “You are terrible! I can’t believe he believed you!”
Me: “I know! I’m sorry, but it was just too good to pass up. I’ll tell him before Kelly and I’s last day, I promise.”
Toby: “Ok, but we’ll have a little fun before you guys leave.”
Sounds like a plan.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Flying on airplanes is dangerous
And not because they might crash.
No, you have much more to fear:
The plane is finally ready for us to board. We get on and are ready to finally get home....until we sit there and wait for another 45 minutes. We are given no information as to when we are going to leave, the stewardesses haven't done anything, and people are moving around. I have to go to the bathroom so bad, so I decided to get up and go. Everyone else is.
When I reach the front of the plane, the stewardess decides (rudely, mind you) to blame the entire delay on me. "Oh, no no no, young lady. You are holding this whole plane up! Sit back down." I am extremely embarrassed and walk back to my seat in shame...as another person gets up to use the restroom and isn't scolded like a school girl. What the heck?!
The plane takes off. The captain says we have reached our cruising altitude YET he doesn't turn the seat belt sign off. I'm confused. This is when the sign goes off. I know this. Apparently, so do others. They begin getting up and using the restroom. By now, I have been holding it for about 1.5 hours and it is really, really mad at me. "I'm so sorry, bladder, but I am scared out of my mind of that stewardess. The claws almost came out. We can't go."
I'm fidgeting in my seat when my friend goes, "Haley, didn't you have to use the restroom?"
"Erm, yes but that stewardess is still giving me the evil eye."
"Well, look! Other people are going. It's ok; we've reached altitude."
"No, I really don't think it's ok. The seat belt sign is still on."
"Haley, seriously, come on. It's fine. Other people are walking all over. Plus I have to go so I'll go after you."
"Ok, you're right. This is silly. This is a vital need and I need to fulfill it." (Ok, I didn't really say that but I was thinking it).
So I go to the bathroom and am walking back when the same stewardess is in front of me handing out drinks. My seat is right there. I can see it. Just...let...me....sit.....WHACK!! IN THE FACE.
While I had been patiently waiting behind the stewardess, she suddenly whips her tray around and hits me straight in the face with her drink serving tray. 7 rows of peoples' mouths drop in shock. Instead of apologizing, she immediately gets angry and harshly says, "UGH! What are you doing up??" and hurries back to the front of the plane. There is no, "Are you ok? Can I get you anything? I'm sorry..." NOPE.
I sway back to my seat and sit down. I. Am. In. Shock. I have never been treated like this in my whole life. Obviously the tray-to-the-face thing was an accident, but actually blaming me for it when they tray was in your hands? I don't understand.
People around me were asking if I was ok. I was, but my head hurt. So my friend read Cosmopolitan to me to make me feel better. And it worked. Because some of the stuff in there is just ridiculous--it doesn't make any sense.
But the stewardess NEVER apologized, never asked if I needed ice (when a bump started forming) and never looked me in the eye the next 3-4 times she passed my seat. Don't worry, I gave her the stare-down. She knew.
But for real, what the heck was she thinking?? Did I have a target on my back? Why was I the only one not allowed to get out of my seat to go to the bathroom and the only one scolded for it twice?? Ok, Southwest, I'm not a big fan anymore. Your low rates aren't that low anymore and the last 4 flights I've taken have been delayed. And then THIS?? Excuse me, but I do believe a re-evaluation is in order.
So this is the most exciting flight experience I've had since last Christmas when I slept through my flight and almost missed the second one. And November when I shamelessly flirted with an Air Force pilot for 2 hours. I'm sure I'll have many more to come. I'm flying back to Kansas City August 5th so I'm sure I'll have a story for ya then.
Until next time, listen to the seat belt sign. It could mean life or death...or an altered physical appearance.
No, you have much more to fear:
- Who should I sit next to? Will the cute guy think I'm hitting on him (when I clearly am) if I offer him my peanuts (even though I want the peanuts)? If an old guy sits next to me, am I in for hell for the next 2 hours? (No, sir, those remarks aren't appreciated). I personally always choose a middle-aged lady to sit next to. It's the safest bet. Unless they don't have a wedding ring on--then you might be sitting through a kitty-cat slide show for the duration of the flight.
- The endless line to go to the bathroom (or trying to get up and out of your seat before the other person does as soon as the "vacancy" sign goes on). Sometimes awkward eye contact is made and a stare-down for the toilet ensues.
- Trying to decipher what the 'wear your seat belt' sign really means. "Is this sign intended for everyone or just for those people whose bladders aren't going to explode? Is it ok if I get up? Will I die? Will I accidentally trip and burst into the cockpit and cause the plane to take a nose dive? It can't be that dangerous. If it was, then the ladies tottering on high heels while trying to juggle pop, alcohol, straws, nuts, and napkins would be done for."
- Exactly how loud is the engine? Can my surrounding neighbors hear me whisper Cosmo articles to my friend? Will they judge us?
- Will I cause the plane's route to accidentally veer into the Bermuda Triangle if I forget to put my phone on airplane mode?
- Will I get in trouble if I don't sit in my assigned seat?
You may think these are all irrational fears, yet I have had the pleasure of personally experiencing each and every one of them. I fly quite a bit and I sometimes think I have everything figured out. Then I am proven ridiculously wrong.
I was lucky enough to get to experience the 'what does the wear your seat belt sign actually mean' conundrum last week when I was flying from Houston back to Dallas.
My friend/coworker and I had spent the two-hour delay in the only "restaurant" in the Houston "Hobby" airport: Buffalo Wild Wings. In my opinion, Buffalo Wild Wings was very confused. It couldn't figure out if it was a bar, a restaurant, a night club, or a eating facility in an airport. (Hint: it was the latter). The tables were uncomfortably close together, the music was loud and fast, and there were lights flashing on and off. "What the heck?!" I thought, "It's Thursday afternoon in the Houston Airport. It's not 1am Saturday in a club downtown Dallas. Get your act together Hobby."
The plane is finally ready for us to board. We get on and are ready to finally get home....until we sit there and wait for another 45 minutes. We are given no information as to when we are going to leave, the stewardesses haven't done anything, and people are moving around. I have to go to the bathroom so bad, so I decided to get up and go. Everyone else is.
When I reach the front of the plane, the stewardess decides (rudely, mind you) to blame the entire delay on me. "Oh, no no no, young lady. You are holding this whole plane up! Sit back down." I am extremely embarrassed and walk back to my seat in shame...as another person gets up to use the restroom and isn't scolded like a school girl. What the heck?!
The plane takes off. The captain says we have reached our cruising altitude YET he doesn't turn the seat belt sign off. I'm confused. This is when the sign goes off. I know this. Apparently, so do others. They begin getting up and using the restroom. By now, I have been holding it for about 1.5 hours and it is really, really mad at me. "I'm so sorry, bladder, but I am scared out of my mind of that stewardess. The claws almost came out. We can't go."
I'm fidgeting in my seat when my friend goes, "Haley, didn't you have to use the restroom?"
"Erm, yes but that stewardess is still giving me the evil eye."
"Well, look! Other people are going. It's ok; we've reached altitude."
"No, I really don't think it's ok. The seat belt sign is still on."
"Haley, seriously, come on. It's fine. Other people are walking all over. Plus I have to go so I'll go after you."
"Ok, you're right. This is silly. This is a vital need and I need to fulfill it." (Ok, I didn't really say that but I was thinking it).
So I go to the bathroom and am walking back when the same stewardess is in front of me handing out drinks. My seat is right there. I can see it. Just...let...me....sit.....WHACK!! IN THE FACE.
While I had been patiently waiting behind the stewardess, she suddenly whips her tray around and hits me straight in the face with her drink serving tray. 7 rows of peoples' mouths drop in shock. Instead of apologizing, she immediately gets angry and harshly says, "UGH! What are you doing up??" and hurries back to the front of the plane. There is no, "Are you ok? Can I get you anything? I'm sorry..." NOPE.
I sway back to my seat and sit down. I. Am. In. Shock. I have never been treated like this in my whole life. Obviously the tray-to-the-face thing was an accident, but actually blaming me for it when they tray was in your hands? I don't understand.
People around me were asking if I was ok. I was, but my head hurt. So my friend read Cosmopolitan to me to make me feel better. And it worked. Because some of the stuff in there is just ridiculous--it doesn't make any sense.
But the stewardess NEVER apologized, never asked if I needed ice (when a bump started forming) and never looked me in the eye the next 3-4 times she passed my seat. Don't worry, I gave her the stare-down. She knew.
But for real, what the heck was she thinking?? Did I have a target on my back? Why was I the only one not allowed to get out of my seat to go to the bathroom and the only one scolded for it twice?? Ok, Southwest, I'm not a big fan anymore. Your low rates aren't that low anymore and the last 4 flights I've taken have been delayed. And then THIS?? Excuse me, but I do believe a re-evaluation is in order.
So this is the most exciting flight experience I've had since last Christmas when I slept through my flight and almost missed the second one. And November when I shamelessly flirted with an Air Force pilot for 2 hours. I'm sure I'll have many more to come. I'm flying back to Kansas City August 5th so I'm sure I'll have a story for ya then.
Until next time, listen to the seat belt sign. It could mean life or death...or an altered physical appearance.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Frites and Mayo
Last summer, I was fortunate enough to get to travel to Belgium. There, I found out why my grandpa speaks Flemish, listens to Belgian music, eats frites (french fries) with mayonnaise, and, in essence, loves Belgium. It was amazing! From the seaside to the small towns to the big cities, this small country had so much to offer.
I fell in love with the beauty of the country as well as the residents there just like my grandpa had many years ago. You see, my ancestors are from Pittem, a small city in Belgium. My grandpa has a lot of pride in this so he formed the Sister Cities program about 30 years ago. Shawnee, Kansas is a sister city of Pittem, Belgium. When I visited there this summer, I got to stay with the local residents of Pittem. They knew my grandfather very well and only had good things to say about him.
Even though my grandparents are too old to travel over to Belgium as often as they used to, they keep the Belgium spirit alive in Shawnee by listening to Belgian music, eating frites with mayo, being a part of the Shawnee Belgian American Club, and attending the Sister Cities State Championship Rolle Bolle tournament every year during Old Shawnee Days.
Anyone and everyone is invited to compete in the Rolle Bolle tournament. It's an old Belgian game that my grandparents love so much they built a Rolle Bolle court in their back yard!
The tournament takes place tomorrow, Saturday June 4th at the Rolle Bolle courts at 58th Street and King Avenue (just north of Johnson Drive). Beer, brat worsts, hot dogs, and other food will be served starting at 12:00. The tournament will start soon after. Grandparents, parents and kids will all be in attendance. It is a game that anyone of any age can play.
The game started in the 13th century in Belgium and was an outlawed activity for a while. Those who play the game are called boulders, and they play using a hard rubber disc that the game takes its name from. Rolle bolles are about eight inches in diameter and four inches thick and can weigh six to eight pounds.
I fell in love with the beauty of the country as well as the residents there just like my grandpa had many years ago. You see, my ancestors are from Pittem, a small city in Belgium. My grandpa has a lot of pride in this so he formed the Sister Cities program about 30 years ago. Shawnee, Kansas is a sister city of Pittem, Belgium. When I visited there this summer, I got to stay with the local residents of Pittem. They knew my grandfather very well and only had good things to say about him.
Even though my grandparents are too old to travel over to Belgium as often as they used to, they keep the Belgium spirit alive in Shawnee by listening to Belgian music, eating frites with mayo, being a part of the Shawnee Belgian American Club, and attending the Sister Cities State Championship Rolle Bolle tournament every year during Old Shawnee Days.
Anyone and everyone is invited to compete in the Rolle Bolle tournament. It's an old Belgian game that my grandparents love so much they built a Rolle Bolle court in their back yard!
The tournament takes place tomorrow, Saturday June 4th at the Rolle Bolle courts at 58th Street and King Avenue (just north of Johnson Drive). Beer, brat worsts, hot dogs, and other food will be served starting at 12:00. The tournament will start soon after. Grandparents, parents and kids will all be in attendance. It is a game that anyone of any age can play.
The game started in the 13th century in Belgium and was an outlawed activity for a while. Those who play the game are called boulders, and they play using a hard rubber disc that the game takes its name from. Rolle bolles are about eight inches in diameter and four inches thick and can weigh six to eight pounds.
How to play the game:
One at a time, starting at the backstop on one end of the court, two teams of three boulders take the rolle bolle and roll it toward a stake or pin raising about five inches from the ground. Rolling the rolle bolle is not so easy, however, because a bevel running down the center makes the surface uneven. Getting the rolle bolle as close to the stake as possible is the object; if the rolle bolle hits the backstop behind the stake, it is considered dead.
Players can try to use their rolle bolle to knock away those of the opposing team, bringing in some shuffleboard tactics.
I hope you will come to the Rolle Bolle tournament! I will be there as early as 9 AM helping to set everything up. My grandpa has instilled a Belgian pride in me and I hope that long after he is gone I get to pass it down to my grandchildren and keep a little bit of his spirit alive as well.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Moth's Wings
You come beating like moth's wings
Spastic and violently--
Whipping me into a storm
Shaking me down to the core
But you've run away from me
And you've left me shimmering
Like diamond wedding rings
Spinning dizzily down on the ground.
Spastic and violently--
Whipping me into a storm
Shaking me down to the core
But you've run away from me
And you've left me shimmering
Like diamond wedding rings
Spinning dizzily down on the ground.
So the other day I was reading on my screened-in porch attached to the back of my house. It was quiet and serene and a beautiful day until.....my dogs started going haywire. They were barking like crazy and chasing something around the room. Our neighbors hate our dogs so I went to see what they were up to.
When I approached them, I found them pawing at something but couldn't quite tell what it was until I pulled them away and found a grief-stricken moth fighting for its life.
Moths are usually unattractive and creepy. The ugly step-sister to the butterfly, they get bad raps from eating our stored sweaters and hanging around when they are unwanted. This one, however, was quite beautiful. It was pink, tan, and green with big blue dots on the back of its wings. They looked like eyes that were begging me to "please do something."
My heart went out to this moth (even though I was still unbelievably creeped out). One of my dogs kept catching it in its mouth and then spitting it back out. She did this over and over again. It was like she wanted to catch it so bad but when she did, she didn't know what to do with it. I tried to pull my dogs away so it could fly free, but its wings were so tattered it couldn't go anywhere and my dogs wouldn't follow orders.
I tried to rescue the moth for about 15 minutes, but every time I tried to get close to it, it would fly towards me and I would get freaked out, scream, and run away. This happened multiple times until I figured I couldn't do anything so I gave up, sat down and went back to reading.
But then this terrible feeling came upon me. I was going to be responsible for this moth's death. My dogs were still barking and playing with it and it was still trying to get away. I couldn't go back to reading. I couldn't focus; I was involved now and I couldn't give up on this moth. Then and there I resolved that I was going to save this moth's life.
I jumped out of my chair and dragged my dogs inside. I got a sheet of paper from inside, swallowed my fear of moths and began to scoot the moth outside the door. It freaked me out a couple of times, but I realized that this moth's life was more important than maybe being grazed by a wing. Once I got it to the door to go outside, I wondered where to put it so it could recover. If I put it on our deck, the dogs were sure to find it again and kill it. Its wings were so tattered I didn't think it could fly. However, as soon as it was outside, it mustered all the energy it had left after taking a 30 minute beating from two dogs, and flew away. I kept my eye on it to see where it went--it flew to the tallest tree in the woods behind our house. I was amazed.
I learned a valuable lesson that day. (Here comes the analogy.) Life will beat you down--there's no doubt about that. And you can't always do it by yourself. Sometimes you need help to get through the rough times and it's ok to ask for and accept that help. Then, when you get through the hard times, there's nothing stopping you from seeking a great life except yourself. Sure, the moth could have settled for a single tree high off the ground. But, no. It set its sights on the highest tree in the woods, telling me that we are capable of anything, even after being beaten down by two animals 100xs of times the size of us.
I found a picture of the moth. This is exactly what it looked like but it was more beautiful in person. I'm glad I saved its life.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
The Circle
It appears that I have tried to evade Shawnee, Kansas......and have failed.
I love my grandparents. I have spent my entire life admiring them and wondering how I can find a relationship like theirs. To everyone else, it seems dysfunctional. And to me, growing up, I have wondered how my grandmother managed to lassle a man as stubborn and as worldly as my grandfather. At the same time, I wondered how my grandfather managed to hook a woman as lovely, patient, and loving as my grandmother. It's like they should repel each other....and yet, were made for each other at the same time. I don't know how to explain it other than IT WORKS AND I WANT IT.
My grandfather doesn't listen to anyone and I love him for it. (Everyone else is annoyed.) Perhaps it's that, "I'm going to do what I want to do, so help me God," that I've learned from him and we understand each other without talking about it. After all, I picked up and went to Texas in a decision made in less 24 hours. Who was to stop me? No one. Even he wanted me to stay close to him but I want to do what I want to do.
So I went. To Texas. To get out of Kansas City. To grow as a person. Or so I thought.
Yet I always find myself returning to Kansas City and admiring its beauty and history. I taunt others with how magestic the city is, how much it has to offer, and its widespread glory. They question my sincerity: "If Kansas City is so great, then why did you leave?" I am dumbfounded; I don't know.
I thought that distancing myself from the familiar would help me grow as a person. But now, perhaps I need to look closer at what I love and appreciate it more.
I have spent the past 3 years looking for something to make me happy. Now, I'm realizing that perhaps what I need has been staring me right in the face for the first 18 years of my life. It's weird to realize, but I like it.
It's kind of a learning experience. Similar to, "You don't know what you've had until you've lost it." I gave away Kansas City for Dallas, Texas. I told EVERYONE that I was never moving back home. Now, however, I think I might be realizing that Kansas City is exactly what I need.
It will be interesting to see where I go from here.
All I can hope for is a spouse that drives me crazy, yet I can't live without him at the same time. To others, it may appear that my grandparents are at their wits end with each other, but I know that they loved each other so deeply. I know that they complemented each other so much that, if I even come close to their relationship, I will be the luckiest girl in the world.
Even now, when I see them, I think they are the greatest people in the entire world. They will never see this but that's ok. I love them and I think they are so amazing. They are loved my so many people, but most of all......ME.
I love my grandparents. I have spent my entire life admiring them and wondering how I can find a relationship like theirs. To everyone else, it seems dysfunctional. And to me, growing up, I have wondered how my grandmother managed to lassle a man as stubborn and as worldly as my grandfather. At the same time, I wondered how my grandfather managed to hook a woman as lovely, patient, and loving as my grandmother. It's like they should repel each other....and yet, were made for each other at the same time. I don't know how to explain it other than IT WORKS AND I WANT IT.
My grandfather doesn't listen to anyone and I love him for it. (Everyone else is annoyed.) Perhaps it's that, "I'm going to do what I want to do, so help me God," that I've learned from him and we understand each other without talking about it. After all, I picked up and went to Texas in a decision made in less 24 hours. Who was to stop me? No one. Even he wanted me to stay close to him but I want to do what I want to do.
So I went. To Texas. To get out of Kansas City. To grow as a person. Or so I thought.
Yet I always find myself returning to Kansas City and admiring its beauty and history. I taunt others with how magestic the city is, how much it has to offer, and its widespread glory. They question my sincerity: "If Kansas City is so great, then why did you leave?" I am dumbfounded; I don't know.
I thought that distancing myself from the familiar would help me grow as a person. But now, perhaps I need to look closer at what I love and appreciate it more.
I have spent the past 3 years looking for something to make me happy. Now, I'm realizing that perhaps what I need has been staring me right in the face for the first 18 years of my life. It's weird to realize, but I like it.
It's kind of a learning experience. Similar to, "You don't know what you've had until you've lost it." I gave away Kansas City for Dallas, Texas. I told EVERYONE that I was never moving back home. Now, however, I think I might be realizing that Kansas City is exactly what I need.
It will be interesting to see where I go from here.
All I can hope for is a spouse that drives me crazy, yet I can't live without him at the same time. To others, it may appear that my grandparents are at their wits end with each other, but I know that they loved each other so deeply. I know that they complemented each other so much that, if I even come close to their relationship, I will be the luckiest girl in the world.
Even now, when I see them, I think they are the greatest people in the entire world. They will never see this but that's ok. I love them and I think they are so amazing. They are loved my so many people, but most of all......ME.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Hi.
It's me.
Do you remember me?
Probably not.
I barely remember me.
But, yes, this is real life. I'm here. I'm writing. I'm doing it...despite the totally inappropriate hour where I will be waking up in 3 hours to go to a 2 hour practice to do what enables me to be in this wonderful city doing what I love surrounded by the people who keep me going every single day. (Except for all of you at home reading this, of course. Even though I don't talk to you, you keep me going. I do think about you. And I'm not just saying that. I think too much. About you. And about things. Which is why I'm here instead of sleeping and preparing my body and mind for the grueling practice awaiting me. I can't sleep when I think. And vice versa.)
Do you ever wonder about that? Do you ever wish you wouldn't think so much? I do. All the time. I think way too much. About a lot of things. Which is why, in my room, there are journals hidden all over the place full of stories and thoughts and things that I think about when I lie awake at night. I'll never get this time back. I'll never get this time to sleep back. And it's ok. It's what I choose.....I suppose. Unconsciously.
Anyway, I have lots of stories for you. I was thinking about them today as I ran. Running is my blogging time. And I've been meaning to get back to you. It's been a month. AKA too long. You need to know what I'm up to, right? I figured. Well, the answer is: lots of things. Too many things. Which is why I have many stories to write for you. But not now. I need to take a little nap before practice. But how about a little taste, eh? Ok, that'll do.
I'll give you the titles of the stories. They are: "The Date"; "The Fight"; "The Dedicated Starbucks Customer (and it's not me)"; "The New Melrose Place"; "The Bad News Bears"; "The Sacrifice"; "The Happiness"; "The Process"; "The Power Struggle". Enough? I thought so. Hopefully I'll be able to pound these out soon. And, I'll be honest. It's not just for you. It's for me too.
You see, I'm obsessed with recording things. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's a self-preservation thing where, if I forget, it'll be there in writing and/or recording to remind me. My friends look at me like I'm psycho when I shove a video camera in their face BUT they are incredibly happy when I capture the insane moments of our lives that show us exactly who we are. And, yes, I'm not overexaggerating. You see yourself in a different way when you are recorded. Trust me. I never thought I was an idiot UNTIL I saw myself looking like an idiot.
Check yourself before you wreck yourself.
Nah, I think I'll wreck myself. That way I can pick up the pieces and write about it. That's what it's all about, right?
Do you remember me?
Probably not.
I barely remember me.
But, yes, this is real life. I'm here. I'm writing. I'm doing it...despite the totally inappropriate hour where I will be waking up in 3 hours to go to a 2 hour practice to do what enables me to be in this wonderful city doing what I love surrounded by the people who keep me going every single day. (Except for all of you at home reading this, of course. Even though I don't talk to you, you keep me going. I do think about you. And I'm not just saying that. I think too much. About you. And about things. Which is why I'm here instead of sleeping and preparing my body and mind for the grueling practice awaiting me. I can't sleep when I think. And vice versa.)
Do you ever wonder about that? Do you ever wish you wouldn't think so much? I do. All the time. I think way too much. About a lot of things. Which is why, in my room, there are journals hidden all over the place full of stories and thoughts and things that I think about when I lie awake at night. I'll never get this time back. I'll never get this time to sleep back. And it's ok. It's what I choose.....I suppose. Unconsciously.
Anyway, I have lots of stories for you. I was thinking about them today as I ran. Running is my blogging time. And I've been meaning to get back to you. It's been a month. AKA too long. You need to know what I'm up to, right? I figured. Well, the answer is: lots of things. Too many things. Which is why I have many stories to write for you. But not now. I need to take a little nap before practice. But how about a little taste, eh? Ok, that'll do.
I'll give you the titles of the stories. They are: "The Date"; "The Fight"; "The Dedicated Starbucks Customer (and it's not me)"; "The New Melrose Place"; "The Bad News Bears"; "The Sacrifice"; "The Happiness"; "The Process"; "The Power Struggle". Enough? I thought so. Hopefully I'll be able to pound these out soon. And, I'll be honest. It's not just for you. It's for me too.
You see, I'm obsessed with recording things. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's a self-preservation thing where, if I forget, it'll be there in writing and/or recording to remind me. My friends look at me like I'm psycho when I shove a video camera in their face BUT they are incredibly happy when I capture the insane moments of our lives that show us exactly who we are. And, yes, I'm not overexaggerating. You see yourself in a different way when you are recorded. Trust me. I never thought I was an idiot UNTIL I saw myself looking like an idiot.
Check yourself before you wreck yourself.
Nah, I think I'll wreck myself. That way I can pick up the pieces and write about it. That's what it's all about, right?
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
RAAAAAAAWR
goes the polar bear.
The polar bear who did the Polar Bear Plunge. AKA: me.
That's right. We jumped into our pool last night at midnight after school had cancelled classes that day and declared an Ice Day.
Ice Day=jumping into your pool? Too dangerous to go to school=safe enough to go swimming? Yep. Ohh...yeahh....and it was 16 degrees outside. And we went in our swimsuits. I'm pretty sure it was the adrenaline pumping that kept us warm but YES we got all the way in.
There were four of us brave ones. My roommate took pictures and uploaded them to facebook last night. I awoke this morning to reactions such as, "I hope you're not sick today missy..." "NO YOU DID NOT." "That's so badass!!" "Dude, this is made up." "I can't believe you--I couldn't be outside for 5 seconds!" and lastly, my favorite: "You inspired us. Brad and I are doing it tonight. We feel like we need to match your insanity. And we're gonna one-up you."
I responded with: "You will never one-up me."
Because they won't.
Regardless, I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt AND help the boys out. We took some good measures to ensure a "safe" and "warm" plunge and I gave them the tips. Since I know all you people who read this are as hardcore as me, I'll give you the same advice so you too can have a successful plunge.
Oh, and as always, I will post pictures.
1) Wear a swimsuit. getting out of a pool into 16 degree weather wearing wet clothes is just stupid whereas wearing a swimsuit is brilliant. You can dry your skin with a towel much better than trying to dry clothes--they'll just freeze to your body.
2) Bring lots of towels. If you think you have enough towels while you're heading out the door, grab another one.
3) Put a towel down on the ground to step on when you get out of the pool. Freezing your feet to the ground would be horrible (insert A Christmas Story reference here about the tongue-frozen-to-the-pole thing.) No fun.
4) Wear Uggs (or similarly warm shoes) to put on immediately after. Your feet will thank you. NO FLIP-FLOPS.
5) If you have a robe, wear it. Put it on after you dry yourself with the towel and your vastly dropping body temperature will thank you and quite possibly recover.
Any questions? You know where to find the master of Tha Polar Bear.
You're only young once! Live it up!
The polar bear who did the Polar Bear Plunge. AKA: me.
That's right. We jumped into our pool last night at midnight after school had cancelled classes that day and declared an Ice Day.
Ice Day=jumping into your pool? Too dangerous to go to school=safe enough to go swimming? Yep. Ohh...yeahh....and it was 16 degrees outside. And we went in our swimsuits. I'm pretty sure it was the adrenaline pumping that kept us warm but YES we got all the way in.
There were four of us brave ones. My roommate took pictures and uploaded them to facebook last night. I awoke this morning to reactions such as, "I hope you're not sick today missy..." "NO YOU DID NOT." "That's so badass!!" "Dude, this is made up." "I can't believe you--I couldn't be outside for 5 seconds!" and lastly, my favorite: "You inspired us. Brad and I are doing it tonight. We feel like we need to match your insanity. And we're gonna one-up you."
I responded with: "You will never one-up me."
Because they won't.
Regardless, I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt AND help the boys out. We took some good measures to ensure a "safe" and "warm" plunge and I gave them the tips. Since I know all you people who read this are as hardcore as me, I'll give you the same advice so you too can have a successful plunge.
Oh, and as always, I will post pictures.
1) Wear a swimsuit. getting out of a pool into 16 degree weather wearing wet clothes is just stupid whereas wearing a swimsuit is brilliant. You can dry your skin with a towel much better than trying to dry clothes--they'll just freeze to your body.
2) Bring lots of towels. If you think you have enough towels while you're heading out the door, grab another one.
3) Put a towel down on the ground to step on when you get out of the pool. Freezing your feet to the ground would be horrible (insert A Christmas Story reference here about the tongue-frozen-to-the-pole thing.) No fun.
4) Wear Uggs (or similarly warm shoes) to put on immediately after. Your feet will thank you. NO FLIP-FLOPS.
5) If you have a robe, wear it. Put it on after you dry yourself with the towel and your vastly dropping body temperature will thank you and quite possibly recover.
Any questions? You know where to find the master of Tha Polar Bear.
AHHHHHH!
You're only young once! Live it up!
Picture captions (in order):
1) BEFORE THE MADNESS!!!!
1) BEFORE THE MADNESS!!!!
2) Ice covering everything. We ice skated there, no joke.
3) Fountain look familiar? This is the same fountain that my roommate and I washed our blue avatar-selves off in back in August. Frozen solid now.
4) THA POOOOOL
4) THA POOOOOL
5) THA Roommate.
6) Friend.
7) Friend.
8) MEEEEE
9) Me in the red robe helping my roommate get dried off while friend is freezing.
10) Roommate running back to the warmth!
10) Roommate running back to the warmth!
11) FRIEND IN SHOCK
Monday, January 24, 2011
I must just have this "aura" about me
This is getting bad.
By convincing others, I think I've convinced myself that I actually am an interpretive dancer.
It should have been a one-time joke, but I actually claimed it twice as my profession. I should explain.
We wanted to go to this dance club called "Aura" that is in Uptown. We went there a lot last year and a few times this year, so we figured it wouldn't be a problem. Except, this time, we were with 5 guys and they usually only let people in who aren't on the list if you're a group of girls. But, I was feeling super confident thanks to my boy J. Daniels AND it was my friend's 21st birthday, so I figured I'd try to talk us in anyway.
I completely surpass the velvet rope and line of people patiently waiting to get in and go up to the bouncer and say, "Hey, it's my friend's 21st birthday. Will you let us in?"
He looks at me like, 'Are you on crack?' but checks the list anyway. "Are you on the list?"
"Ermm....yeah, yeah we are."
"Ok, what's the name?"
"Uhh....King. The name is King." (There had to be someone under the reservation 'King' right?? I mean, there's a lot of cocky people in Dallas--especially in Uptown--so I figured they'd use that pseudo-name.)
He uses his little earpiece to call inside. "Hey, I don't have the name 'King' on the list out here, do you have it on the list in there?" After a few minutes where I basically died like 5 times, he looks me dead in the eyes and goes, "You're not on the list." Damn.
Am I embarrassed? Surprisingly, no. I couldn't really care less. And this is basically because I know that some way, somehow, we are going to get into that club. So my group walks to the back of the line behind the velvet rope. I'm freezing (I'm in a white lace tank top and its in the 40s) and I want to dance. Therefore, after about 5 or so minutes, I get the other bouncer's attention.
"Hey! Psst....hey!"
He looks at me like, 'Ok, here we go,'..... and as politely as he can manage, he says, "Can I help you?"
"Actually, yes. I know for a fact that it's not crowded in there, so you need to let us in. Like, right now."
He looks at me like, 'You are f****** with me right?!'......and as politely as he can manage, he says, "Can I ask what you do for a living?"
"Yes, I'm an interpretive dancer."
He looks at me like, 'There's nooooooo way that's possible,' but doesn't feel like fighting that fight......and as politely as he can manage, he says, "Ok, if people let you do your job, will you let me do mine?" ((OUCH))
"That depends, are you gonna let us in?"
"Can you let me do my job?"
"Are you gonna let us in?"
"Can you let me do my job?"
"Are you gonna let us in?"
"You can't answer a question with a question."
"Yes I can."
"No you can't."
"Yes-huh."
"No, in fact, you can't. If you took a test and answered every question with a question, you would fail that test."
Silence.
"OK sooooooooo....are you gonna let us in?"
He looks at me like, 'WHAT ARE YOU ON?'.....and as politely as he can manage, he says, "Ok, obviously I don't own this place so I just can't let anyone in. And, you're with a bunch of guys and we usually don't let a lot of guys in with so few girls. Let me talk to my boss and see what I can do.....but I'll probably let you in."
SUPER!
He's about to turn to walk away when I say, "Excuse me, but can I ask you one more question?" His head is about to explode as he grits his teeth and manages to politely say, "Yes, what?"
"I really do want to do this the right way and I appreciate you helping us, so how do I get on the list in the future?" ((I was trying to be polite and seem interested so hopefully that would help our chances of getting in....and I also want to be on the list next time.)) He gives me the details and I thank him as he goes to talk to his boss. I turn around and my friends' mouths are touching the floor. "HALEY! Where did that come from?? What are you doing??" "Well, it's John's birthday and I want him to have fun. So we're getting in."
The bouncer comes back and starts flirting a little as he says, "Ok, I'll let you in, but only because you girls are really cute and that was really brave. But you have to wait a few more minutes in the cold because you're wearing a white lace tank top." Thanks, buddy.
He gave me his card. He was pretty cute. I'm pretty sure he's in my age range. I plan on calling to thank him....maybe.
By convincing others, I think I've convinced myself that I actually am an interpretive dancer.
It should have been a one-time joke, but I actually claimed it twice as my profession. I should explain.
We wanted to go to this dance club called "Aura" that is in Uptown. We went there a lot last year and a few times this year, so we figured it wouldn't be a problem. Except, this time, we were with 5 guys and they usually only let people in who aren't on the list if you're a group of girls. But, I was feeling super confident thanks to my boy J. Daniels AND it was my friend's 21st birthday, so I figured I'd try to talk us in anyway.
I completely surpass the velvet rope and line of people patiently waiting to get in and go up to the bouncer and say, "Hey, it's my friend's 21st birthday. Will you let us in?"
He looks at me like, 'Are you on crack?' but checks the list anyway. "Are you on the list?"
"Ermm....yeah, yeah we are."
"Ok, what's the name?"
"Uhh....King. The name is King." (There had to be someone under the reservation 'King' right?? I mean, there's a lot of cocky people in Dallas--especially in Uptown--so I figured they'd use that pseudo-name.)
He uses his little earpiece to call inside. "Hey, I don't have the name 'King' on the list out here, do you have it on the list in there?" After a few minutes where I basically died like 5 times, he looks me dead in the eyes and goes, "You're not on the list." Damn.
Am I embarrassed? Surprisingly, no. I couldn't really care less. And this is basically because I know that some way, somehow, we are going to get into that club. So my group walks to the back of the line behind the velvet rope. I'm freezing (I'm in a white lace tank top and its in the 40s) and I want to dance. Therefore, after about 5 or so minutes, I get the other bouncer's attention.
"Hey! Psst....hey!"
He looks at me like, 'Ok, here we go,'..... and as politely as he can manage, he says, "Can I help you?"
"Actually, yes. I know for a fact that it's not crowded in there, so you need to let us in. Like, right now."
He looks at me like, 'You are f****** with me right?!'......and as politely as he can manage, he says, "Can I ask what you do for a living?"
"Yes, I'm an interpretive dancer."
He looks at me like, 'There's nooooooo way that's possible,' but doesn't feel like fighting that fight......and as politely as he can manage, he says, "Ok, if people let you do your job, will you let me do mine?" ((OUCH))
"That depends, are you gonna let us in?"
"Can you let me do my job?"
"Are you gonna let us in?"
"Can you let me do my job?"
"Are you gonna let us in?"
"You can't answer a question with a question."
"Yes I can."
"No you can't."
"Yes-huh."
"No, in fact, you can't. If you took a test and answered every question with a question, you would fail that test."
Silence.
"OK sooooooooo....are you gonna let us in?"
He looks at me like, 'WHAT ARE YOU ON?'.....and as politely as he can manage, he says, "Ok, obviously I don't own this place so I just can't let anyone in. And, you're with a bunch of guys and we usually don't let a lot of guys in with so few girls. Let me talk to my boss and see what I can do.....but I'll probably let you in."
SUPER!
He's about to turn to walk away when I say, "Excuse me, but can I ask you one more question?" His head is about to explode as he grits his teeth and manages to politely say, "Yes, what?"
"I really do want to do this the right way and I appreciate you helping us, so how do I get on the list in the future?" ((I was trying to be polite and seem interested so hopefully that would help our chances of getting in....and I also want to be on the list next time.)) He gives me the details and I thank him as he goes to talk to his boss. I turn around and my friends' mouths are touching the floor. "HALEY! Where did that come from?? What are you doing??" "Well, it's John's birthday and I want him to have fun. So we're getting in."
The bouncer comes back and starts flirting a little as he says, "Ok, I'll let you in, but only because you girls are really cute and that was really brave. But you have to wait a few more minutes in the cold because you're wearing a white lace tank top." Thanks, buddy.
He gave me his card. He was pretty cute. I'm pretty sure he's in my age range. I plan on calling to thank him....maybe.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
I'm Really Upset and Confused.
And I'm being selfish.
Tuesday was the first day of school. I called one of my close friends to book a gossip sesh to discuss all the fun/good/bad/silly/stupid/crazy/inappropriate things we did over break. After a few hours of trying to catch each other between classes and playing phone tag, I finally got her on the phone.
But something was wrong. I could tell.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Well, did you check that website I sent you an hour ago?"
"No I haven't been home yet today. Why?" I had seen the link on my phone, but couldn't access the internet to read it. There was a woman's name (her Godmother) and "Caring Bridge" in the url, so I figured it was a charity my friend's Godmother was starting. She was such a caring and giving woman that I am not surprised that I jumped to that conclusion.
But it was the wrong one.
"Well," she said, "Shelly was skiing down a mountain in Aspen this weekend when she had a brain aneurysm." Oh no, I thought. Oh no, no, no, no, NO. This beautiful woman cannot die. "And they airlifted her to a hospital in Denver," she continued. No. "And she was in a drug-induced coma..." nooooo, please don't say it. "....until they took her off of life support this morning. She had too much brain damage."
I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. My eyes immediately filled with tears. And one word kept running through my mind.
Unbelieveable.
"Caroline, are you ok? Do you want me to come over?"
"No..." sniffs, "I'm fine. But I'm not going to class later. I can't."
"That's fine. Don't go. But I'm going to come over later is that ok?"
"No, you don't have to. It's fine, really."
HA, yeah right. Like I'm going to let you sit on your couch alone and think about her death all day long. So what did I do? Ran to the grocery store to pick up the latest Cosmopolitan magazine and a 6-pack of Blue Moon beer, of course. It won't heal the wound, but it'll help a little.
I'm still in shock that such an amazing woman could leave us just like that. Skiing with her husband and friends one moment and then in the next instant is moments away from death.
You wonder, how can I have such a reaction about one of my friend's Godmothers who I can't possibly know all that well? Well, this is something different. I had the pleasure of meeting her over two years ago in her fashion boutique 4510 here in Dallas. My friend Caroline took me there to have lunch and show me around. It is one of Oprah's favorite stores in Dallas....and one of mine too! Expect I can't afford anything there. Hah, but seriously.
I remember the first time I met her. She gave me a big smile, hug, and a, "Wow, Caroline sure can pick beautiful friends!" You know how people can give you compliments out the wahzoo and you know they're just being fake and don't really mean them? Well this was not Shelly. AT ALL. She was so genuine and loved everyone and you could feel that whenever she smiled at you, gave you a hug, or looked you in the eyes when she was talking to you. Her eyes sparkled, I swear. She was something special.
Which was why I was so shocked. As soon as those words left Caroline's lips, I imagined Shelly strutting over to us with her arms wide open for a hug as we walked in. She was always so happy to see you, she always made you feel good about yourself, and she always listened to what you had to say like it was the most important thing in the world.
Right now, I still can't believe she's gone. My mom and I were going to go visit her when we were in Dallas over New Year's, but we found out she was skiing in Aspen. "No big deal," I thought. "We'll see her when she comes back. We'll go have lunch at 4510 when she'll be there."
I never thought that I wouldn't get to see her again.
Which is why I'm selfish. I didn't even get to see her again! Imagine how wonderful of a woman she was if I, someone who has been around her only a handful of times, is mourning her loss. Imagine how her closest family and friends must feel! I can't even comprehend.
She will truly be missed. I still can't believe she is dead. I don't know when it will sink in.
If you want to see how amazing of a person she was, visit this website. Her family started it after her death to let everyone who knew her know what was going on. It has had over 12,000 hits and 340 comments in the guestbook. I told you she was something special.
Tuesday was the first day of school. I called one of my close friends to book a gossip sesh to discuss all the fun/good/bad/silly/stupid/crazy/inappropriate things we did over break. After a few hours of trying to catch each other between classes and playing phone tag, I finally got her on the phone.
But something was wrong. I could tell.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Well, did you check that website I sent you an hour ago?"
"No I haven't been home yet today. Why?" I had seen the link on my phone, but couldn't access the internet to read it. There was a woman's name (her Godmother) and "Caring Bridge" in the url, so I figured it was a charity my friend's Godmother was starting. She was such a caring and giving woman that I am not surprised that I jumped to that conclusion.
But it was the wrong one.
"Well," she said, "Shelly was skiing down a mountain in Aspen this weekend when she had a brain aneurysm." Oh no, I thought. Oh no, no, no, no, NO. This beautiful woman cannot die. "And they airlifted her to a hospital in Denver," she continued. No. "And she was in a drug-induced coma..." nooooo, please don't say it. "....until they took her off of life support this morning. She had too much brain damage."
I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. My eyes immediately filled with tears. And one word kept running through my mind.
Unbelieveable.
"Caroline, are you ok? Do you want me to come over?"
"No..." sniffs, "I'm fine. But I'm not going to class later. I can't."
"That's fine. Don't go. But I'm going to come over later is that ok?"
"No, you don't have to. It's fine, really."
HA, yeah right. Like I'm going to let you sit on your couch alone and think about her death all day long. So what did I do? Ran to the grocery store to pick up the latest Cosmopolitan magazine and a 6-pack of Blue Moon beer, of course. It won't heal the wound, but it'll help a little.
I'm still in shock that such an amazing woman could leave us just like that. Skiing with her husband and friends one moment and then in the next instant is moments away from death.
You wonder, how can I have such a reaction about one of my friend's Godmothers who I can't possibly know all that well? Well, this is something different. I had the pleasure of meeting her over two years ago in her fashion boutique 4510 here in Dallas. My friend Caroline took me there to have lunch and show me around. It is one of Oprah's favorite stores in Dallas....and one of mine too! Expect I can't afford anything there. Hah, but seriously.
I remember the first time I met her. She gave me a big smile, hug, and a, "Wow, Caroline sure can pick beautiful friends!" You know how people can give you compliments out the wahzoo and you know they're just being fake and don't really mean them? Well this was not Shelly. AT ALL. She was so genuine and loved everyone and you could feel that whenever she smiled at you, gave you a hug, or looked you in the eyes when she was talking to you. Her eyes sparkled, I swear. She was something special.
Which was why I was so shocked. As soon as those words left Caroline's lips, I imagined Shelly strutting over to us with her arms wide open for a hug as we walked in. She was always so happy to see you, she always made you feel good about yourself, and she always listened to what you had to say like it was the most important thing in the world.
Right now, I still can't believe she's gone. My mom and I were going to go visit her when we were in Dallas over New Year's, but we found out she was skiing in Aspen. "No big deal," I thought. "We'll see her when she comes back. We'll go have lunch at 4510 when she'll be there."
I never thought that I wouldn't get to see her again.
Which is why I'm selfish. I didn't even get to see her again! Imagine how wonderful of a woman she was if I, someone who has been around her only a handful of times, is mourning her loss. Imagine how her closest family and friends must feel! I can't even comprehend.
She will truly be missed. I still can't believe she is dead. I don't know when it will sink in.
If you want to see how amazing of a person she was, visit this website. Her family started it after her death to let everyone who knew her know what was going on. It has had over 12,000 hits and 340 comments in the guestbook. I told you she was something special.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Think before you act....naaaaaaaah
So I'm in South Florida....having the time of my life! What am I doing here mid-winter, you ask? Well, visiting my friend from SMU aaaaaaand escaping the God-forsaken cold that has taken over the rest of the country. We were informed yesterday that it snowed in every single state EXCEPT Florida (well, and Hawaii but that doesn't count. And it's raining there hardcore anyways.) How did I come about visiting here? Well just chalk it up to too much flying on Southwest Airlines and earning a free ticket and the fact that I'm a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl.
It all started last October. I asked my friend that lives here if she was going to be here over break. I KNEW I had to get out of freezing Kansas City. She said YES! and invited me down to come visit her. Ok, ok, you don't have to twist my arm! As soon as I got home, I was on the phone with Southwest changing my Christmas Break flight plans. After about 20 minutes, it was all done and I hung up the phone so incredibly happy about trading in the frozen tundra that is Kansas City in January for DA BEACH.
And then it hit me. Did I even ask my parents if this was ok? Nah. Did I check to see if I'll have time for this? Nah. Did I make sure I could financially afford it? Nah. Did I really care about any of the aforementioned questions? Nah.
So Monday came and it was time to go to the airport. And it was blizzarding. My airline warned me that my flight might get delayed or cancelled. I was a little worried. My dad drove me to the airport as tons of snow was coming down and the highways and everything were completely covered. That's when I knew that, no matter what, I had made the right decision in jumping the gun and flying to South Florida. Leaving that freezing place for the sunny beach was the best decision I made this winter. And it's been so fun!
Upon arriving, I made my way outside to wait for my friend to come pick me up. A little 85-year-old lady sat down next to me. We were conversing when my friend arrived and I said I had to leave. The nice lady said, "Ok, you have fun! And be careful and safe," and gave me the look that says 'I was once your age too and I know what goes on in that pretty little head of yours so you better not do some of the things I know you're thinking about doing!'.....and then she gave me a big smile. How does she know me so well? :)
So today ends my stay in South Florida. We begin the drive to Orlando where we'll visit some friends and stay the night. Then we'll stay in Gainesville Saturday night and then begin the 16-hour trek home to Dallas on Sunday getting in late Sunday night.
And then the crazy spring semester begins! I CANNOT WAIT!
It all started last October. I asked my friend that lives here if she was going to be here over break. I KNEW I had to get out of freezing Kansas City. She said YES! and invited me down to come visit her. Ok, ok, you don't have to twist my arm! As soon as I got home, I was on the phone with Southwest changing my Christmas Break flight plans. After about 20 minutes, it was all done and I hung up the phone so incredibly happy about trading in the frozen tundra that is Kansas City in January for DA BEACH.
And then it hit me. Did I even ask my parents if this was ok? Nah. Did I check to see if I'll have time for this? Nah. Did I make sure I could financially afford it? Nah. Did I really care about any of the aforementioned questions? Nah.
So Monday came and it was time to go to the airport. And it was blizzarding. My airline warned me that my flight might get delayed or cancelled. I was a little worried. My dad drove me to the airport as tons of snow was coming down and the highways and everything were completely covered. That's when I knew that, no matter what, I had made the right decision in jumping the gun and flying to South Florida. Leaving that freezing place for the sunny beach was the best decision I made this winter. And it's been so fun!
Upon arriving, I made my way outside to wait for my friend to come pick me up. A little 85-year-old lady sat down next to me. We were conversing when my friend arrived and I said I had to leave. The nice lady said, "Ok, you have fun! And be careful and safe," and gave me the look that says 'I was once your age too and I know what goes on in that pretty little head of yours so you better not do some of the things I know you're thinking about doing!'.....and then she gave me a big smile. How does she know me so well? :)
So today ends my stay in South Florida. We begin the drive to Orlando where we'll visit some friends and stay the night. Then we'll stay in Gainesville Saturday night and then begin the 16-hour trek home to Dallas on Sunday getting in late Sunday night.
And then the crazy spring semester begins! I CANNOT WAIT!
Just so you turn green with envy:
Monday, January 10, 2011
I Officially Belong Here
Gone are the days of believing I was born to live in the bustling city of New York strolling up and down Park Avenue clad in designer items on my way to see the latest Broadway play.
Gone are the days of feeling like I've escaped becoming a townie or a Kansas hillbilly.
Gone are the days of believing I am too glamorous for good ole' Shawnee. Sometimes called "a backwards town" (by those who don't live here and know its true inherent value, by the way), it has a reputation of being old and rundown. But it's not.
After years of looking at some Shawnee citizens in our local grocery store and thinking, "I hope I'm not like one of those," now I definitely feel like one.
You see, I was born with a mouth full of messed up teeth. A late bloomer when it came to absolutely everything in my life, I was still losing my baby teeth as I entered high school. And then we were informed that there were three baby teeth I would never lose....because no adult teeth developed to replace them! I'M DEFECTIVE!!! Anyway, since I was getting older, we were advised to put braces on my teeth (including the baby ones) to straighten out my mouth. Later, the baby teeth would wear out and I would have to get fake ones. So, entering high school with a mouth full of braces that resembled a roller coaster (I'm not exaggerating--I literally had teeth all over the place), my self-esteem was immediately shot to the ground before anyone else had any chance to do it themselves. It was super. But I survived.
Fast forward 6 and a half years later to this week. My teeth are straight, white, and hurting. The baby ones, anyway. Their time has come to leave the nest. They've done their time and I've worn them out. So my mom took me to the oral surgeon to have one of my upper teeth removed. I was practically peeing my pants as I waited for the surgeon to stick my gums with that huge-a** needle so that he could put a pair of huge-a** pliers in there to yank out a tooth. Before he stuck that huge-a** needle in my mouth, I almost jumped out of the chair and screamed, "You don't have to do this! I can bear the pain for the rest of my life! Don't stick me with that thing!" But I didn't. Because then I remembered I was 21 years old (not 8) and should be fully matured and capable of getting a baby tooth pulled. Well I got the baby tooth pulled, but I'm not convinced I'm fully matured. Late bloomer, remember?
Anyway, ever since I've had this tooth out, I can feel a hole in my mouth. And I don't feel glamorous. At all. And I feel like I either got into a townie bar fight at Johnny's Tavern (here in good ole' Shawnee) or that I'm a hillbilly who drunkenly let one of my friends pull out my tooth like in The Hangover. You can't see the hole at all, but I'm my own worst critic and demand perfection at every turn so I know it's there. And I? Don't. Like. It.
Sure I'm going to get a fake tooth soon and sure you don't know it's missing unless I show you OR laugh obnoxiously loud with my mouth wide open.... soooo who cares? No one, that's who. NO ONE CARES.
So now I just have to get over it. Over this feeling of being a hillbilly. But I doubt I will. I'm officially one of those Shawnee citizens. Super.
Gone are the days of feeling like I've escaped becoming a townie or a Kansas hillbilly.
Gone are the days of believing I am too glamorous for good ole' Shawnee. Sometimes called "a backwards town" (by those who don't live here and know its true inherent value, by the way), it has a reputation of being old and rundown. But it's not.
After years of looking at some Shawnee citizens in our local grocery store and thinking, "I hope I'm not like one of those," now I definitely feel like one.
You see, I was born with a mouth full of messed up teeth. A late bloomer when it came to absolutely everything in my life, I was still losing my baby teeth as I entered high school. And then we were informed that there were three baby teeth I would never lose....because no adult teeth developed to replace them! I'M DEFECTIVE!!! Anyway, since I was getting older, we were advised to put braces on my teeth (including the baby ones) to straighten out my mouth. Later, the baby teeth would wear out and I would have to get fake ones. So, entering high school with a mouth full of braces that resembled a roller coaster (I'm not exaggerating--I literally had teeth all over the place), my self-esteem was immediately shot to the ground before anyone else had any chance to do it themselves. It was super. But I survived.
Fast forward 6 and a half years later to this week. My teeth are straight, white, and hurting. The baby ones, anyway. Their time has come to leave the nest. They've done their time and I've worn them out. So my mom took me to the oral surgeon to have one of my upper teeth removed. I was practically peeing my pants as I waited for the surgeon to stick my gums with that huge-a** needle so that he could put a pair of huge-a** pliers in there to yank out a tooth. Before he stuck that huge-a** needle in my mouth, I almost jumped out of the chair and screamed, "You don't have to do this! I can bear the pain for the rest of my life! Don't stick me with that thing!" But I didn't. Because then I remembered I was 21 years old (not 8) and should be fully matured and capable of getting a baby tooth pulled. Well I got the baby tooth pulled, but I'm not convinced I'm fully matured. Late bloomer, remember?
Anyway, ever since I've had this tooth out, I can feel a hole in my mouth. And I don't feel glamorous. At all. And I feel like I either got into a townie bar fight at Johnny's Tavern (here in good ole' Shawnee) or that I'm a hillbilly who drunkenly let one of my friends pull out my tooth like in The Hangover. You can't see the hole at all, but I'm my own worst critic and demand perfection at every turn so I know it's there. And I? Don't. Like. It.
Sure I'm going to get a fake tooth soon and sure you don't know it's missing unless I show you OR laugh obnoxiously loud with my mouth wide open.... soooo who cares? No one, that's who. NO ONE CARES.
So now I just have to get over it. Over this feeling of being a hillbilly. But I doubt I will. I'm officially one of those Shawnee citizens. Super.
Friday, January 7, 2011
My Cousin Vinny
I never have a boring night out. Even if we decide to go to a low-key bar for a few drinks and some much-missed girl talk, it never ends up being "low-key".....EVER.
And I'm ok with that. In fact, I love it. Boring nights should be restricted to lame people who don't know how to have fun. And I don't associate with those kinds of people. (Feel honored. If you are reading this, then the odds are that you probably know me. And if you know me, then I don't consider you a boring person. Because if you were boring, I wouldn't talk to you......Joking....)
Last night started off with dinner at Waxy O'Shea's with the fam. Cue vast amounts of laughter. After, I decided to ditch the fam to go out with a few girls and was waiting outside the restaraunt for a friend so we could leave. Then I was, yet again, informed that my blog readership goes beyond what I anticpate. A nice man stopped me and asked, "Are you a Soetaert?"
I was stopped in my tracks and pretty surprised because no, I am not "technically" a Soetaert because that is not my last name, but my relatives are Soetaerts. So I'm a Soetaert in a kind-of-sort-of-way. Actually, I have been asked this question by adults who are familiar with that part of my family multiple times throughout my childhood. I would be stopped at the pool, at the mall, etc by random strangers asking the question, "Are you a Soetaert?" I guess I've got those dominant Soetaert genes then.
As we began talking, however, I realized I did know and recognize him from multiple gatherings my grandparents have had. He's a good friend of theirs. He said, "You went to Belgium this summer, right?" "Yes, I did!" "Yeah, your grandparents told me. That's when I started reading your blog." A shade of deep crimson immediately engulfed my face. My mind started racing. 'Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod WHAT have I been writing on that blog lately?? What all did I say I did in Europe?? Ohmigod, I need to start editing myself if my grandparents' friends are reading that thing!!!' I quickly recovered and responded with a big smile and "Ohh, really? That's great! Yeah, I'm always surprised when people tell me they read my blog because I forget it's public domain." Shit.
As much as I was worried about what I've been writing on this darn thing, I was actually very flattered. Wow, people actually like to read what I have to say? That made me feel so good! So thanks, Kevin, if you're reading this. I'm glad you stopped me and said hello! And happy birthday! (It was his birthday yesterday..) And thanks for reminding me to edit myself because you never know who is reading....
Anyway, fast-forward a few hours later. We've got some intense dance-floor moves by our crazy miniature 5-foot friend, a few failed pick-up lines by some random Wyandotte County guy in a wife beater, a successful spill of half a pitcher that managed to attract the attention of everyone within a 30-foot radius of our table, and two guys from K-State who just can't...seem...to graduate. And are still sticking around our table as well.
One guy's name is Vinny. And at first I think it's a fake name because this guy doesn't look like a "Vinny"....at all. Now when I choose my fake names, I try to pick one that at least fits me. And guys usually believe it. His was a failed attempt, but we played along anyway....it actually probably is real.
The conversation is winding down (has been for the past hour, mind you) when we decide it's time to peace out. Vinny asks for my number. Not really wanting to give it but not wanting to totally destroy his ego either, I say sure. He gives me his phone and I first type in my friend's number but I decide I can't do that to her....damn you, conscious! So after a few minutes of pretending to try and figure out how to work his phone while thinking about how I'm going to handle this situation, I resolve to put my own number in. I leave for Florida on Monday and won't be back in Kansas for 5 months so that seems a logical end to the "relationship". I'll just tell him that. No harm done.
He asks what I'm doing tomorrow night. "Well, my cousin is coming in town so we'll probably go to the Power and Light district.....you guys should come (???)" (WHY DID I SAY THAT!) He responds with, "Ohh, actually I think I'm gonna hang out with my grandpa. You see, he's really old but he's cool to hang out with." I should be insulted but I'm not....I just didn't care enough I suppose. I think, 'Wow, I just invited you and your friends to come out with us tomorrow night after you asked for my number and you say you would rather hang out with your grandpa?!' Haaaaa. Niiiiiice. Glad I fall short of a gramps. Awesome.
Anyway, we leave. Later, he texts. He sucks at carrying on a texting conversation. Relationship over.
Lessons from the night:
Monitor what you put on the internet (not that I've really put anything that bad).
Don't let a guy wearing a wife beater in a bar think he's got a shot because he'll just keep coming back...and back...and back.
Don't give your number to someone you won't have a future with. Pointless. And stupid.
Let your friend dance....but not so that she pulls a few muscles. That's too wide of a range.
And finally, have lots of fun. Always.
And I'm ok with that. In fact, I love it. Boring nights should be restricted to lame people who don't know how to have fun. And I don't associate with those kinds of people. (Feel honored. If you are reading this, then the odds are that you probably know me. And if you know me, then I don't consider you a boring person. Because if you were boring, I wouldn't talk to you......Joking....)
Last night started off with dinner at Waxy O'Shea's with the fam. Cue vast amounts of laughter. After, I decided to ditch the fam to go out with a few girls and was waiting outside the restaraunt for a friend so we could leave. Then I was, yet again, informed that my blog readership goes beyond what I anticpate. A nice man stopped me and asked, "Are you a Soetaert?"
I was stopped in my tracks and pretty surprised because no, I am not "technically" a Soetaert because that is not my last name, but my relatives are Soetaerts. So I'm a Soetaert in a kind-of-sort-of-way. Actually, I have been asked this question by adults who are familiar with that part of my family multiple times throughout my childhood. I would be stopped at the pool, at the mall, etc by random strangers asking the question, "Are you a Soetaert?" I guess I've got those dominant Soetaert genes then.
As we began talking, however, I realized I did know and recognize him from multiple gatherings my grandparents have had. He's a good friend of theirs. He said, "You went to Belgium this summer, right?" "Yes, I did!" "Yeah, your grandparents told me. That's when I started reading your blog." A shade of deep crimson immediately engulfed my face. My mind started racing. 'Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod WHAT have I been writing on that blog lately?? What all did I say I did in Europe?? Ohmigod, I need to start editing myself if my grandparents' friends are reading that thing!!!' I quickly recovered and responded with a big smile and "Ohh, really? That's great! Yeah, I'm always surprised when people tell me they read my blog because I forget it's public domain." Shit.
As much as I was worried about what I've been writing on this darn thing, I was actually very flattered. Wow, people actually like to read what I have to say? That made me feel so good! So thanks, Kevin, if you're reading this. I'm glad you stopped me and said hello! And happy birthday! (It was his birthday yesterday..) And thanks for reminding me to edit myself because you never know who is reading....
Anyway, fast-forward a few hours later. We've got some intense dance-floor moves by our crazy miniature 5-foot friend, a few failed pick-up lines by some random Wyandotte County guy in a wife beater, a successful spill of half a pitcher that managed to attract the attention of everyone within a 30-foot radius of our table, and two guys from K-State who just can't...seem...to graduate. And are still sticking around our table as well.
One guy's name is Vinny. And at first I think it's a fake name because this guy doesn't look like a "Vinny"....at all. Now when I choose my fake names, I try to pick one that at least fits me. And guys usually believe it. His was a failed attempt, but we played along anyway....it actually probably is real.
The conversation is winding down (has been for the past hour, mind you) when we decide it's time to peace out. Vinny asks for my number. Not really wanting to give it but not wanting to totally destroy his ego either, I say sure. He gives me his phone and I first type in my friend's number but I decide I can't do that to her....damn you, conscious! So after a few minutes of pretending to try and figure out how to work his phone while thinking about how I'm going to handle this situation, I resolve to put my own number in. I leave for Florida on Monday and won't be back in Kansas for 5 months so that seems a logical end to the "relationship". I'll just tell him that. No harm done.
He asks what I'm doing tomorrow night. "Well, my cousin is coming in town so we'll probably go to the Power and Light district.....you guys should come (???)" (WHY DID I SAY THAT!) He responds with, "Ohh, actually I think I'm gonna hang out with my grandpa. You see, he's really old but he's cool to hang out with." I should be insulted but I'm not....I just didn't care enough I suppose. I think, 'Wow, I just invited you and your friends to come out with us tomorrow night after you asked for my number and you say you would rather hang out with your grandpa?!' Haaaaa. Niiiiiice. Glad I fall short of a gramps. Awesome.
Anyway, we leave. Later, he texts. He sucks at carrying on a texting conversation. Relationship over.
Lessons from the night:
Monitor what you put on the internet (not that I've really put anything that bad).
Don't let a guy wearing a wife beater in a bar think he's got a shot because he'll just keep coming back...and back...and back.
Don't give your number to someone you won't have a future with. Pointless. And stupid.
Let your friend dance....but not so that she pulls a few muscles. That's too wide of a range.
And finally, have lots of fun. Always.
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