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.
Showing posts with label Dallas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dallas. Show all posts
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.
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.
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.
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:
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Where are you going?
This is a throwback. An oldie. A classic.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
I was asked this question last night by an adult I've known for years....and I literally almost responded with, "an astronaut." (We'll discuss my tendencies for supplying sarcastic and unrealistic responses in order to disguise the unfortunate and boring reality that is my life later...)
Surprisingly, however, becoming an astronaut is just as likely as anything else right now. (Not really. I'm excessively exaggerating--I'm not in an engineering program, I have no plans of getting a PhD in space mechanics, and I have too sensitive of a stomach to pass one of those tests where they spin you around really quickly.) But still. I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.
Am I in the business school? Yes. Is there an obvious career path for me when I graduate? Sort of.
I was contemplating going to Grad school or getting a job immediately after graduation (which is looming in my too-soon future.) All of this was complicated even more--and fast forwarded--when I met with my advisor the other day and he informed me that I'm so ahead of the game that I can save myself a lot of time and money and graduate next December. NEXT DECEMBER. AKA....a year from now! This suggestion went in one ear and out of the other. It's out of the question.
First of all, I'll only be 22 and I'll have plenty of time on my hands; I plan to live until I'm 80. Don't we all? Ahhh the young; we're so indestructible. I'll still be working out to the max and answering trivia questions like Wikipedia. (Trust me, I've already taken measures to extend my life. I've begun using repairing eye cream and I do sudoku and crossword puzzles to keep my brain sharp.) Anyway, secondly, SMU pays for my tuition and room and board (and then some) so I actually won't save any money. Third of all, do I want to quit rowing the middle of my senior year? Answer: yes, I'll probably be so exhausted by then that I'll want to, but I know I'll miss it so incredibly much and regret that decision for the rest of my life. I'm not a quitter. So that's also out of the question.
Regardless, this new opportunity put me on the fast track for some decision making--it made me realize how close the future actually is...damnit. Since I decided to stay at SMU for another semester without any required classes, I think I'm going to try and turn my English minor into an English major. I LOVE English. And I have extra time.
This resulted in MORE questions. My advisor said a lot of people who major in English go to Law School. Law School? I've entertained the idea before, but I hate the thought of taking out student loans. And what if I don't like it? What if I end up never using my degree? What a waste. I just don't know.... And IF Law School, then where? SMU Law? In my dreams. So expensive. Could I even get in? I've gotta stay in the south, so UT Austin? I'd love to. California? I may go to Law School just to move to Cali....joking....but not. When do I take the LSAT? Do I pay the $1,200 for the LSAT prep class just to try to cram it into my already overflowing schedule in the spring? Sweet Jesus, this blows.
Do I graduate and then go straight to work? If so, where? I plan on staying in Dallas (sorry, family) so I'll probably get a risk management job working 60-70 hours a week and go for runs with my Great Dane after an exhilarating (joke) day at work. (Yes, that is one thing I'm certain of: I want a massive dog for my running buddy.) Perhaps I could think about and study for Law School after I graduate and get a job....good gracious this is difficult.
And what about writing? Future job or just a hobby? I've always dreamed of writing for a magazine or becoming a book editor but....we'll see. And, after all of this, will I just end up being a stay-at-home mom with 4 (hopefully) kids running around with paint all over their hands and mud all over their feet? No....freaking....clue.
Well, whatever. I know that whatever decision I make is the right decision and will take me where I need to go. Do I want to go to Law School? Sure. I just bought a pair of fake glasses the other day that make me look really smart and I'd fit right in. Do I want to work? Of course. Making money sure beats the hell out of spending it. Do I want to go to Grad School? Yeah, I'd put off the real world for a few more years. Mommy? Of course I want kids. So it looks like all options are valid.
Now, I just need a decision. Eh, maybe I'll make one in a few months.....maybe.
And now, the throwback:
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
I was asked this question last night by an adult I've known for years....and I literally almost responded with, "an astronaut." (We'll discuss my tendencies for supplying sarcastic and unrealistic responses in order to disguise the unfortunate and boring reality that is my life later...)
Surprisingly, however, becoming an astronaut is just as likely as anything else right now. (Not really. I'm excessively exaggerating--I'm not in an engineering program, I have no plans of getting a PhD in space mechanics, and I have too sensitive of a stomach to pass one of those tests where they spin you around really quickly.) But still. I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.
Am I in the business school? Yes. Is there an obvious career path for me when I graduate? Sort of.
I was contemplating going to Grad school or getting a job immediately after graduation (which is looming in my too-soon future.) All of this was complicated even more--and fast forwarded--when I met with my advisor the other day and he informed me that I'm so ahead of the game that I can save myself a lot of time and money and graduate next December. NEXT DECEMBER. AKA....a year from now! This suggestion went in one ear and out of the other. It's out of the question.
First of all, I'll only be 22 and I'll have plenty of time on my hands; I plan to live until I'm 80. Don't we all? Ahhh the young; we're so indestructible. I'll still be working out to the max and answering trivia questions like Wikipedia. (Trust me, I've already taken measures to extend my life. I've begun using repairing eye cream and I do sudoku and crossword puzzles to keep my brain sharp.) Anyway, secondly, SMU pays for my tuition and room and board (and then some) so I actually won't save any money. Third of all, do I want to quit rowing the middle of my senior year? Answer: yes, I'll probably be so exhausted by then that I'll want to, but I know I'll miss it so incredibly much and regret that decision for the rest of my life. I'm not a quitter. So that's also out of the question.
Regardless, this new opportunity put me on the fast track for some decision making--it made me realize how close the future actually is...damnit. Since I decided to stay at SMU for another semester without any required classes, I think I'm going to try and turn my English minor into an English major. I LOVE English. And I have extra time.
This resulted in MORE questions. My advisor said a lot of people who major in English go to Law School. Law School? I've entertained the idea before, but I hate the thought of taking out student loans. And what if I don't like it? What if I end up never using my degree? What a waste. I just don't know.... And IF Law School, then where? SMU Law? In my dreams. So expensive. Could I even get in? I've gotta stay in the south, so UT Austin? I'd love to. California? I may go to Law School just to move to Cali....joking....but not. When do I take the LSAT? Do I pay the $1,200 for the LSAT prep class just to try to cram it into my already overflowing schedule in the spring? Sweet Jesus, this blows.
Do I graduate and then go straight to work? If so, where? I plan on staying in Dallas (sorry, family) so I'll probably get a risk management job working 60-70 hours a week and go for runs with my Great Dane after an exhilarating (joke) day at work. (Yes, that is one thing I'm certain of: I want a massive dog for my running buddy.) Perhaps I could think about and study for Law School after I graduate and get a job....good gracious this is difficult.
And what about writing? Future job or just a hobby? I've always dreamed of writing for a magazine or becoming a book editor but....we'll see. And, after all of this, will I just end up being a stay-at-home mom with 4 (hopefully) kids running around with paint all over their hands and mud all over their feet? No....freaking....clue.
Well, whatever. I know that whatever decision I make is the right decision and will take me where I need to go. Do I want to go to Law School? Sure. I just bought a pair of fake glasses the other day that make me look really smart and I'd fit right in. Do I want to work? Of course. Making money sure beats the hell out of spending it. Do I want to go to Grad School? Yeah, I'd put off the real world for a few more years. Mommy? Of course I want kids. So it looks like all options are valid.
Now, I just need a decision. Eh, maybe I'll make one in a few months.....maybe.
And now, the throwback:
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Oh, Leo!
The sun was shining through the windows as I slowly opened my eyes and stretched my arms. My sheets and blankets were crisp and clean after just being washed and it felt sooo goood to be snuggled in them. I awoke from a wonderful dream where I just met Leonardo DiCaprio in Central Park and he asked me out on a date. It was a beautiful day in Dallas and I thought, "Finals are over! What should I do on this wonderful day?".......
"Wait.......it's light outside.........wasn't I supposed to do something when it was dark outside.......? Yes, yes, I'm pretty sure I was supposed to wake up when it was dark out and do something relatively important....."
OH SHIT
I was supposed to FLY HOME!
I immediately grab my phone. Yep, my flight left an hour and a half ago. I have 15 missed alerts. The cab driver called me 8 times and left a few voicemail messages. My dad called twice. Immediately dialing my daddy to see if he can offer any condolences, he answers, "Good morning beautiful!" obviously not realizing I am supposed to be thousands of feet up in the air without phone service. "DAD! I SLEPT THROUGH MY FLIGHT!"
"Well what are you talking to me for?! Call Southwest immediately! And pull out the works. You've been sick with food poisoning; you just finished a stressful week of finals; you're just trying to get home to your family. Do whatever it takes." Thanks, dad.
I hang up and call Southwest. Already condemning myself to either having to chill in Dallas for a few more days or fork over 300 dollars for a flight home, as soon as someone picks up on the other end I begin pleading: "Please-please-please-I-missed-my-flight-and-I've-been-really-really-really-sick-with-food-poisoning-and-I'm-just-trying-to-get-home-for-the-Holidays-and-I'm-so-so-so-so-stressed-because-I-just-finished-finals-and-I-am----"
"Honey, relax. What's your name?"
*Gives full name*
"OK, let me pull up your confirmation."
After waiting on the phone for 20 minutes (where I am multi-tasking by brushing my teeth, getting dressed, and doing some last-minute packing) she says another flight is available at 9:15 AM---would I like that one? "YES OF COURSE!" At no charge, she puts me on that flight and says I should have no problems flying home.
*Fist pump into the air*
"Thank you so much! You have no idea what this means to me."
"You're welcome, sweetie. We know you have lots of options when you choose your airline, so we thank you for flying Southwest." (Yes, I have flown with them that many times so I have it memorized, thank you.)
Oh, wait, you thought the fun was over? Look who you're talking to! Guess again.
So I book a taxi online for 8:10 AM (yes, I naturally wake up at 7:30 AM with no alarm. That's sleeping in when you get up at 5 AM every morning for practice). I receive a confirmation e-mail saying my taxi will be there at 8:10. So I throw all my luggage down the stairs, pull it outside, and wait for my cab.
8:15. No cab.
So I call. "Yes, I booked a cab online for 8:10 and they aren't here yet and I'm kind of in a crunch." She responds, "Yes, is this *Says name* at *says address*?" "Yes, that's correct." "Ok, your cab is on it's way." "Great, thanks."
8:21. No cab.
So I call. "Hi, I called a little while ago and you said my cab was on its way, but it's still not here yet. I'm *gives name* at *gives address*" It's the same lady. "I'm sorry, we don't have a recorded reservation for you." WHAAAAT?! I just talked to you on the phone and you confirmed it! She tries to sort it all out but I just say, "Ok, it doesn't matter if you lost my reservation. Can you get a cab here soon, please?" "Yes ma'am. It'll be there in 5 minutes." "Super. Thanks."
8:29. No cab.
Another cab from another cab company drives by. I flag him down. After waiting on a cab that is 20 minutes late, I have 45 minutes to get to the airport, check my bags, get through security, find my gate, get my boarding pass, and get on the plane. It's gonna be close.
To avoid morning traffic, I ask him to go through the neighborhoods to cut down the time. Little did I know that going 20 MPH in a school zone meant 15 MPH for him. That was a MISTAKE.
I check my bags. One is over-weight and the baggage guy says they might not make the flight because I checked them 25 minutes before the plane takes off. I don't even care anymore--I just want to get on that plane! He says they'll do their best. I say, "I hope so," and give him a big tip. He smiles and says, "We'll make it work."
I run to the security line and take off my hat, scarf, gloves, coat, and shoes like I'm about to jump into a freezing-cold pond to save someone's life. I then take out my computer and get it all situated according to airport security's specifications in record time. All the jewelry comes off as if by magic. I practically run through the metal detector and just as quickly put everything back on, grab my stuff, and run to the gate.
When I arrive at 9:05 for my 9:15 flight, they're already boarding B class (out of A-C) and I still need to pick up my boarding pass from the desk. Waiting behind a few ladies with children (families on flights, arg!), I finally breathlessly say, "Boarding pass for Haley ********" She easily hands it to me. 9:09.
I run up to the guy who scans your ticket and onto the plane. It's packed. If I sit near the back, I'll vom. I shove my bag into an already stuffed overhead compartment and hope that no one had anything fragile up there. I then slump into a middle seat between two old guys.
And then I do a fist pump into the air. I DID IT!
To sum it all up, I was in Kansas City by 11:00 AM, my bags DID make my flight, and I blame beautiful Leonardo DiCaprio for all of this. Because if he wasn't so beautiful, then I would have left that dream a long time ago and probably would have made my first flight. But then, I wouldn't have this great story and my life would be that much more boring.
So I guess, Leo, you're welcome in my dreams anytime.
"Wait.......it's light outside.........wasn't I supposed to do something when it was dark outside.......? Yes, yes, I'm pretty sure I was supposed to wake up when it was dark out and do something relatively important....."
OH SHIT
I was supposed to FLY HOME!
I immediately grab my phone. Yep, my flight left an hour and a half ago. I have 15 missed alerts. The cab driver called me 8 times and left a few voicemail messages. My dad called twice. Immediately dialing my daddy to see if he can offer any condolences, he answers, "Good morning beautiful!" obviously not realizing I am supposed to be thousands of feet up in the air without phone service. "DAD! I SLEPT THROUGH MY FLIGHT!"
"Well what are you talking to me for?! Call Southwest immediately! And pull out the works. You've been sick with food poisoning; you just finished a stressful week of finals; you're just trying to get home to your family. Do whatever it takes." Thanks, dad.
I hang up and call Southwest. Already condemning myself to either having to chill in Dallas for a few more days or fork over 300 dollars for a flight home, as soon as someone picks up on the other end I begin pleading: "Please-please-please-I-missed-my-flight-and-I've-been-really-really-really-sick-with-food-poisoning-and-I'm-just-trying-to-get-home-for-the-Holidays-and-I'm-so-so-so-so-stressed-because-I-just-finished-finals-and-I-am----"
"Honey, relax. What's your name?"
*Gives full name*
"OK, let me pull up your confirmation."
After waiting on the phone for 20 minutes (where I am multi-tasking by brushing my teeth, getting dressed, and doing some last-minute packing) she says another flight is available at 9:15 AM---would I like that one? "YES OF COURSE!" At no charge, she puts me on that flight and says I should have no problems flying home.
*Fist pump into the air*
"Thank you so much! You have no idea what this means to me."
"You're welcome, sweetie. We know you have lots of options when you choose your airline, so we thank you for flying Southwest." (Yes, I have flown with them that many times so I have it memorized, thank you.)
Oh, wait, you thought the fun was over? Look who you're talking to! Guess again.
So I book a taxi online for 8:10 AM (yes, I naturally wake up at 7:30 AM with no alarm. That's sleeping in when you get up at 5 AM every morning for practice). I receive a confirmation e-mail saying my taxi will be there at 8:10. So I throw all my luggage down the stairs, pull it outside, and wait for my cab.
8:15. No cab.
So I call. "Yes, I booked a cab online for 8:10 and they aren't here yet and I'm kind of in a crunch." She responds, "Yes, is this *Says name* at *says address*?" "Yes, that's correct." "Ok, your cab is on it's way." "Great, thanks."
8:21. No cab.
So I call. "Hi, I called a little while ago and you said my cab was on its way, but it's still not here yet. I'm *gives name* at *gives address*" It's the same lady. "I'm sorry, we don't have a recorded reservation for you." WHAAAAT?! I just talked to you on the phone and you confirmed it! She tries to sort it all out but I just say, "Ok, it doesn't matter if you lost my reservation. Can you get a cab here soon, please?" "Yes ma'am. It'll be there in 5 minutes." "Super. Thanks."
8:29. No cab.
Another cab from another cab company drives by. I flag him down. After waiting on a cab that is 20 minutes late, I have 45 minutes to get to the airport, check my bags, get through security, find my gate, get my boarding pass, and get on the plane. It's gonna be close.
To avoid morning traffic, I ask him to go through the neighborhoods to cut down the time. Little did I know that going 20 MPH in a school zone meant 15 MPH for him. That was a MISTAKE.
I check my bags. One is over-weight and the baggage guy says they might not make the flight because I checked them 25 minutes before the plane takes off. I don't even care anymore--I just want to get on that plane! He says they'll do their best. I say, "I hope so," and give him a big tip. He smiles and says, "We'll make it work."
I run to the security line and take off my hat, scarf, gloves, coat, and shoes like I'm about to jump into a freezing-cold pond to save someone's life. I then take out my computer and get it all situated according to airport security's specifications in record time. All the jewelry comes off as if by magic. I practically run through the metal detector and just as quickly put everything back on, grab my stuff, and run to the gate.
When I arrive at 9:05 for my 9:15 flight, they're already boarding B class (out of A-C) and I still need to pick up my boarding pass from the desk. Waiting behind a few ladies with children (families on flights, arg!), I finally breathlessly say, "Boarding pass for Haley ********" She easily hands it to me. 9:09.
I run up to the guy who scans your ticket and onto the plane. It's packed. If I sit near the back, I'll vom. I shove my bag into an already stuffed overhead compartment and hope that no one had anything fragile up there. I then slump into a middle seat between two old guys.
And then I do a fist pump into the air. I DID IT!
To sum it all up, I was in Kansas City by 11:00 AM, my bags DID make my flight, and I blame beautiful Leonardo DiCaprio for all of this. Because if he wasn't so beautiful, then I would have left that dream a long time ago and probably would have made my first flight. But then, I wouldn't have this great story and my life would be that much more boring.
So I guess, Leo, you're welcome in my dreams anytime.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Interpret What You Will
It's a gift, really. Bullshitting, that is. That's my gift.
Well, I suppose not so much "bullshitting," but more so "making shit up off the top of your head that makes absolutely no sense at all....and yet, people still buy it." You see, I am actually really terrible at lying. Basically ask me a question and you will get the answer. Truth: this was not so helpful in high school when my mom would ask me about certain things....
I had two options: lie to her face and have her know that I was lying OR tell her the truth. So I always had to tell her the truth.
ANYWAY, back to tonight.
I don't know what came over me. I really can't tell you. When the guy at the bar asked what I did, I really really was about to say, "Well, I'm a student at SMU," but somehow it came out as, "I'm an interpretive dancer."
HE: "Really! You're an interpretive dancer?! I've never met one of those before!"
I: "Yeah yeah, we're not that common, really. It's a rare profession I must say."
HE: "Interesting! So like, what do you do?"
I: "Well....we dance....interpretively."
HE: "Yeah, I think I get that. But what do you mean? Like, how?"
I: "Well, we just listen to the music and try to understand what it's saying and then we move our bodies to try to describe how we are feeling in relation to what the music is saying."
HE: "Wow. That's deep."
I: "Yeah. It really is something."
HE: "So what kind of music do you dance to?"
I: "Anything, really. We try to listen to a lot of different kinds of music to try to expand our dancing abilities."
HE: "So you can dance to alternative-rock?"
I: "Sure, why not?"
HE: "Well I'm in this band that performs and we're trying to get a larger fan base than we have right now. We're looking for something that would make us stand out."
(((OH shit.)))
HE: "Do you think you and your friends would be interested in performing during one of our concerts?"
I: "Sure! Why not? We'd need some practice and exposure to the material beforehand but I think it could work out."
HE: "Cool cool. So, do you need like a certain beat to be able to perform? Do you have requirements for that sort of thing?"
I: "Not really. I mean, it is interpretive so all we really need is music and then we just go with it. It can be fast or slow; we dance to what is going on around us."
HE: "Great! So are you with a particular company?"
I: "Oh...actually, it's kind of a touchy subject. We were with the company here in Dallas but they started working for the money and all of this corporate crap and they weren't doing it for the feeling anymore. We didn't like that and we were getting into all of these arguments so we broke off from them. Yeah, it sucks sometimes not getting paid, but at least I know I'm not a sellout."
HE: "Wow, yeah that's gotta be rough."
I: "Yeah, the exposure in that company was great, but it just didn't feel right, you know? It should always be about the music, not the money right?"
HE: "You're totally right. That makes perfect sense. Good for you."
Then we talked for a little while longer about dancing and blah blah blah until my friends got sick of his friends and dragged me away. As we were walking away, I realized just exactly what I had been talking about for the last 20 minutes and about started peeing my pants.
"Haley!" they yelled, "WHAT is so FUNNY?!"
"I just told that guy about my profession as an interpretive dancer," I managed to say between grasping for air during my hysterical laughter.
They immediately stop walking, look at each other, and say, "I swear....the stuff you come up with. How do you think of this crap? And why do these people believe it?"
"I have no idea. I wish I could tell you."
To be honest, I have no intention of stopping this nonsense. It's too much fun.
Well, I suppose not so much "bullshitting," but more so "making shit up off the top of your head that makes absolutely no sense at all....and yet, people still buy it." You see, I am actually really terrible at lying. Basically ask me a question and you will get the answer. Truth: this was not so helpful in high school when my mom would ask me about certain things....
I had two options: lie to her face and have her know that I was lying OR tell her the truth. So I always had to tell her the truth.
ANYWAY, back to tonight.
I don't know what came over me. I really can't tell you. When the guy at the bar asked what I did, I really really was about to say, "Well, I'm a student at SMU," but somehow it came out as, "I'm an interpretive dancer."
HE: "Really! You're an interpretive dancer?! I've never met one of those before!"
I: "Yeah yeah, we're not that common, really. It's a rare profession I must say."
HE: "Interesting! So like, what do you do?"
I: "Well....we dance....interpretively."
HE: "Yeah, I think I get that. But what do you mean? Like, how?"
I: "Well, we just listen to the music and try to understand what it's saying and then we move our bodies to try to describe how we are feeling in relation to what the music is saying."
HE: "Wow. That's deep."
I: "Yeah. It really is something."
HE: "So what kind of music do you dance to?"
I: "Anything, really. We try to listen to a lot of different kinds of music to try to expand our dancing abilities."
HE: "So you can dance to alternative-rock?"
I: "Sure, why not?"
HE: "Well I'm in this band that performs and we're trying to get a larger fan base than we have right now. We're looking for something that would make us stand out."
(((OH shit.)))
HE: "Do you think you and your friends would be interested in performing during one of our concerts?"
I: "Sure! Why not? We'd need some practice and exposure to the material beforehand but I think it could work out."
HE: "Cool cool. So, do you need like a certain beat to be able to perform? Do you have requirements for that sort of thing?"
I: "Not really. I mean, it is interpretive so all we really need is music and then we just go with it. It can be fast or slow; we dance to what is going on around us."
HE: "Great! So are you with a particular company?"
I: "Oh...actually, it's kind of a touchy subject. We were with the company here in Dallas but they started working for the money and all of this corporate crap and they weren't doing it for the feeling anymore. We didn't like that and we were getting into all of these arguments so we broke off from them. Yeah, it sucks sometimes not getting paid, but at least I know I'm not a sellout."
HE: "Wow, yeah that's gotta be rough."
I: "Yeah, the exposure in that company was great, but it just didn't feel right, you know? It should always be about the music, not the money right?"
HE: "You're totally right. That makes perfect sense. Good for you."
Then we talked for a little while longer about dancing and blah blah blah until my friends got sick of his friends and dragged me away. As we were walking away, I realized just exactly what I had been talking about for the last 20 minutes and about started peeing my pants.
"Haley!" they yelled, "WHAT is so FUNNY?!"
"I just told that guy about my profession as an interpretive dancer," I managed to say between grasping for air during my hysterical laughter.
They immediately stop walking, look at each other, and say, "I swear....the stuff you come up with. How do you think of this crap? And why do these people believe it?"
"I have no idea. I wish I could tell you."
To be honest, I have no intention of stopping this nonsense. It's too much fun.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
I'm Sneaky
1) Soooooooooo I think my neighbor is very attractive.
2) We have three lights in our kitchen. A few days ago, only one worked. It was impossible to see in the kitchen. We were living like this for a few weeks, barely able to see what we were making to eat or what was on the floor.
3) The other day, my roommate sent me a facebook message saying that she had knocked over my wine glass and there was glass all over the floor. She tried to get most of it up but wasn't sure if she got it all because it was hard to see. I immediately thought, "Time to get those lights fixed. I DO NOT want glass in my foot."
I replaced one of them but the other was too high to reach from the ground and it looked really heavy. It was a dome light and I had no idea how to take it apart and fix it. And I knew, I knew that if I tried to fix it, I would certainly break it into a tiny million little pieces. You know me by now; that's how my life goes.
Therefore, I decided to text my landlord to have his handyman come over and fix it for us. It wouldn't be that big of a deal, it would take him like 5 seconds, and he wouldn't break it. Piece of cake.
I had the text message all ready to send when, all of a sudden, a light bulb goes off in my head. "Hey!" I start thinking, "Neighbor Boy is tall and he's a guy so he should be handy and since he lives next door he probably has the same lights and knows how to fix them. I'll run over and ask him instead. It will give us an excuse to talk!"
I start getting really nervous and run into my roommate's room to ask her if the idea is dumb and if I'll look like an idiot. She says no; it's perfectly rational. So I check myself in the mirror and realize that I'm still in the clothes I went running in 20 minutes ago: tennis shoes, spandex, pony tail and all. "Meh," I think. "I have a natural flush to my face, I'm in workout clothes so it looks like I'm in shape, and it won't look like I'm trying too hard as opposed to going over there all dolled up." Convinced my plan is fool-proof, I march outside and down to his door.
Almost shitting my pants as I ring the doorbell, Surfer Dude (a very, very attractive modelesque friend of Neighbor Boy) answers...but he's on the phone. He says hi and is polite, but he's still on the phone. Neighbor Boy comes around the corner of a room and he's on the phone too! Oh crap. This is awkward. "Oh...uhhh...I...ahhh...uhhh...I just had a...um...a question but...uh...it's no big deal soooo....ok bye." I turn to leave when he goes, "No wait! Just let me finish this call and then I'll come to your apartment. It'll be like 5 minutes." Ok, so I'm not a loser. Good.
I start cleaning up the kitchen in preparation for their arrival when he knocks a few minutes later. I show him the light, ask him if he knows how to fix it and if he could help me.
Ok, then I really started feeling like an idiot because as soon as he looked at it, it was clear that all you had to do was unscrew this really, really obvious part and it came apart easily. And it wasn't heavy at all. Making small talk and laughing at things, it takes him only a few minutes to change the light bulbs. Damn. Not much face time. But we're still talking.
Then Surfer Dude comes in.....and we all hang out and talk in my kitchen for the next 45 minutes. They're so nice! I mention I have to go get ready for dinner plans when Surfer asks what I'm doing tomorrow night. "Umm...I have no plans for Wednesday night yet, what about you?" "I don't have anything planned either. We should grab drinks in the evening if you want to." My tummy does a flip and my heart about jumps out of my chest. (YES YES YES!!) "Yeah, ok, I guess that sounds cool. I have something I have to do until 7, but I can go anytime after that," I say. "Ok cool," Neighbor boy says. "We'll stop by around 7 and then we can all go somewhere."
Perfect.
They leave, I do a fist pump in the air, and I jump in the shower and get ready for my dinner plans.
Did my plan work? Yes: it's outcome was above and beyond what I even expected.
Did they know I did that on purpose? Most likely.
Does it matter? Naaaaaaah.
2) We have three lights in our kitchen. A few days ago, only one worked. It was impossible to see in the kitchen. We were living like this for a few weeks, barely able to see what we were making to eat or what was on the floor.
3) The other day, my roommate sent me a facebook message saying that she had knocked over my wine glass and there was glass all over the floor. She tried to get most of it up but wasn't sure if she got it all because it was hard to see. I immediately thought, "Time to get those lights fixed. I DO NOT want glass in my foot."
I replaced one of them but the other was too high to reach from the ground and it looked really heavy. It was a dome light and I had no idea how to take it apart and fix it. And I knew, I knew that if I tried to fix it, I would certainly break it into a tiny million little pieces. You know me by now; that's how my life goes.
Therefore, I decided to text my landlord to have his handyman come over and fix it for us. It wouldn't be that big of a deal, it would take him like 5 seconds, and he wouldn't break it. Piece of cake.
I had the text message all ready to send when, all of a sudden, a light bulb goes off in my head. "Hey!" I start thinking, "Neighbor Boy is tall and he's a guy so he should be handy and since he lives next door he probably has the same lights and knows how to fix them. I'll run over and ask him instead. It will give us an excuse to talk!"
I start getting really nervous and run into my roommate's room to ask her if the idea is dumb and if I'll look like an idiot. She says no; it's perfectly rational. So I check myself in the mirror and realize that I'm still in the clothes I went running in 20 minutes ago: tennis shoes, spandex, pony tail and all. "Meh," I think. "I have a natural flush to my face, I'm in workout clothes so it looks like I'm in shape, and it won't look like I'm trying too hard as opposed to going over there all dolled up." Convinced my plan is fool-proof, I march outside and down to his door.
Almost shitting my pants as I ring the doorbell, Surfer Dude (a very, very attractive modelesque friend of Neighbor Boy) answers...but he's on the phone. He says hi and is polite, but he's still on the phone. Neighbor Boy comes around the corner of a room and he's on the phone too! Oh crap. This is awkward. "Oh...uhhh...I...ahhh...uhhh...I just had a...um...a question but...uh...it's no big deal soooo....ok bye." I turn to leave when he goes, "No wait! Just let me finish this call and then I'll come to your apartment. It'll be like 5 minutes." Ok, so I'm not a loser. Good.
I start cleaning up the kitchen in preparation for their arrival when he knocks a few minutes later. I show him the light, ask him if he knows how to fix it and if he could help me.
Ok, then I really started feeling like an idiot because as soon as he looked at it, it was clear that all you had to do was unscrew this really, really obvious part and it came apart easily. And it wasn't heavy at all. Making small talk and laughing at things, it takes him only a few minutes to change the light bulbs. Damn. Not much face time. But we're still talking.
Then Surfer Dude comes in.....and we all hang out and talk in my kitchen for the next 45 minutes. They're so nice! I mention I have to go get ready for dinner plans when Surfer asks what I'm doing tomorrow night. "Umm...I have no plans for Wednesday night yet, what about you?" "I don't have anything planned either. We should grab drinks in the evening if you want to." My tummy does a flip and my heart about jumps out of my chest. (YES YES YES!!) "Yeah, ok, I guess that sounds cool. I have something I have to do until 7, but I can go anytime after that," I say. "Ok cool," Neighbor boy says. "We'll stop by around 7 and then we can all go somewhere."
Perfect.
They leave, I do a fist pump in the air, and I jump in the shower and get ready for my dinner plans.
Did my plan work? Yes: it's outcome was above and beyond what I even expected.
Did they know I did that on purpose? Most likely.
Does it matter? Naaaaaaah.
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