“I need better lighting to hide my awkwardness”
(friend and video editing guru)
“I need better lighting to hide my awkwardness”
(friend and video editing guru)
So living in the DC area, I should be no stranger to traffic and parking foolishness. I tell you though, I still have days that surprise me and work my ever lovin’ last nerve. This was actually the case about 2 weeks ago.
I had to drive across town to Silver Spring for fingerprints I have to get for an upcoming test. It was in an area that I was not at familiar with but they didn’t bother me. So as I pull into the parking lot, I noticed a food spot across the street that caught my eye AND I was about a half hour early for my appointment. Score! So I parked the car and happily skipped my butt across the street to get me a breakfast sandwich. I got my sandwich and came immediately back to the parking lot area where there were tables (wasn’t out of the parking lot for no more than 10 minutes ) and sat and enjoyed every bite of my breakfast sandwich. Sandwich devoured and appointment time quickly approaching, I realized I left something in car that I need for the appointment. I walk over to my car, well…. I walked over to where my car was in disbelief. Mentally I’m double checking to see if this was where I had parked. Yes… this was the spot as evidenced by the puddle of AC condensation from where my car was. “Awwww nawwww” I literally said aloud. I kinda did this real dramatic slow motion turn in one spot upon the realization that I have just got ‘got’. I started thinking to myself “well this is a decent area and it’s 10am…wait…did I really just get towed?!?”
Sure enough I looked at the sign it roughly said “you walk off the property, you will be towed”. Okay so yes it was my fault (but whatever) I didn’t think to look at the sign because I knew had legitimate business there and the kicker was that I was only off for no more than 10 minutes. I call the towing company listed on the sign and explained what happened and that I had legimate business in the area and my car was towed erroneously. The chick’s ( and yes I said chick because that is the nicest word I can come up with. Thinking about it still make my blood boil) response was “You walked off. you can pick your car up in Rockville” (which is about at least an hour away by car) I took all of Jesus for me not to truly say what I wanted to say.
Reasoning and arguing with this ‘chick’ was proving pointless and now I’m late for my appointment. I hung up and walked into my appointment…shaking uncontrollably with rage and frustration, I explained my situation to the apathetic receptionist. She said that they have folks in the parking lot and watch people walk off, they keep the tow truck right around the corner in waiting. I FELT OH SO VIOLATED. The lady doing my fingerprints started to console me and gave me a big ole hug as I started audibly repeating to myself “oh Lord Jesus keep me!!”. That was the best hug a stranger has ever given me. With her help and fingerprinting complete, I collected myself and went about the business of getting my car back.
2 hours, 1 metro ride, 1 bus ride , 3 block walk and $200 later, I got my car back. That sandwich was not THAT good. 😦
I have some pretty awesome neighbors. They are a young couple that loves to grill. They have also decided to take farming into their own hands. In this urban area, they wanted to capitalize on all they have available to them. So what they decide to do is …grow corn. Yes corn! Not basil, rosemary or some small inconspicuous garden item. No they chose corn. Why? I’m not quite sure but I love it and think its hilarious!! The neighbor that shares this little plot of land with them on the other side may not find it so humorous when this thing starts to grow to about 6ft tall. Shoot now that I think about it, I’m not sure how long it’s going to be until property management gets involved. So for now, everyday when I come home I chuckle. Drought and all, their corn seems to be growing very well.
I’m not a betting woman, but if I was, my money would be on the crop getting pulled up in less than a month.
Your doctor. A trusted professional who care for you and keeps you well. We all know that they are normal people outside of your doctor visits. But it’s a different thing seeing them outside that setting and seeing how normal they really are. While at the grocery store across the street from my house and halfway down the peanut butter aisle, I spotted her, my gynecologist. Now I think I have a great patient/doctor relationship with my gynecologist. Most women would probably say that they do too. But I don’t know what it was. But seeing the woman who knows my most intimate …well..me…was awkward. But there she was, in her t-shirt, sweats, and a ponytail getting her choice pick of chicken. So I did what any self respecting woman would do, I hid. I’m not exactly sure why this was my knee jerk reaction to seeing her but that’s what I did. It’s not like I owed her money. My last check up went well. Yet I still ducked behind the weekly sale sign for beef on sale for $2.99 a pound. I started to hear a brief rendition of mission impossible playing in my head as I continued to bob and weave thru the store behind her trying not to get noticed. Once I saw that the coast was clear, I continued my shopping…like a normal person.
I can only imagine that the employees at the store or those watching the security cameras got a good laugh at me that day.
I study at Starbucks. But I’m not talking about an hour here and there…oh no. When I’m in there, its a marathon study session. And if you think about it, they have all that you need: a variety of caffeinated drinks, food both sweet and savory, decent ambient music and the air of intellectualism. I’ve learned that if you study there long enough, the baristas learn your name and take pity on you. Occasionally they will even hook you up with a free drink. Another trick is my favorite “treat receipt” season. So during the summer, Starbucks has this offer when if you buy a drink in the earlier in the day and keep the receipt, after 2pm you can redeem that receipt for a $2 grande drink of your choice (which usually can run up to $5 if you are fancy).
Just the other day, I’m working my routine. I got the new Very Berry Hibiscus drink at 12:30pm. I milked that till all that was left was the blackberries. The clock strikes 2:05pm and I’m back at the counter ordering my “treat”, a delightfully frothy frappuccino to which I had my way with in about 3 minutes. 2:50pm and I want more. What’s left in front of me is my empty frappe cup and a dry cup with just blackberries in it now. So being cheap, I decide to stretch the blackberries even further by getting water and adding them in there. I’m adding my blackberries and “Ewwww mommy that’s gross” the kid at the other end of the table announces to the entire shop. Eyes focused on the task at hand, I ignore him as I keep working my berries into my new cup. “Ewww mommy that’s gross” the kid announces again, louder this time to make sure that I heard him. I glance over to see the mother frantically trying to quiet the kid in protest. This kid is blowing up my spot in here!!! Folks at this point are starting to stare with similar questions seeming to appear on their faces. “I just really like the blackberries….it’s really refreshing” I bashfully explain to the kid byway of the mother. At this point I realized I wasn’t sure who was more embarrassed, me or the mother. It must have been her because after we shared a nervous giggle, she promptly collects her things and son and hurries out the store.
Undauntedly, I finished my study flow and left Starbucks 2 hours later. Mission accomplished.
We’re Not Young Video <–Click here
I saw this video and I had good chuckle and that’s about it. It’s a parody to the song ‘We are Young’ that car companies and retailers pretty much ran into the ground. The more I listened to the song and its lyrics, the more I realized the that only redeemable quality of the song was the parody. It wasn’t until a few days ago that the song parody would ring true in San Francisco. On our recent trip, my husband and I were determined to go out and experience the fabulous lounge scene that San Fran is known for. We only had a few nights in town so we knew we had to capitalize. We had already spent our first night trying to adjust to west coast. The concert was the following evening, so all we really had was Friday night.
Well it was 7:45p that night when it hit me, I’m not going to make. I was battling the hard hitting combination of a full belly and remnants of jet lag. Before 30, this would have been easily surmountable. Now…barely able to finish dinner with one eye open. Then 9:30p and back at the hotel, my body was beckoning to be reunited with the bed. “Oh just a quick nap and then I’ll be ready to go” I said optimistically as I hit the fetal position on my side of the bed. To which my husband’s reply was his soulful rendition of ‘We’re not young’ as he slides into bed behind me.
If it wasn’t for the Michael Jackson ‘Thriller’ flash mob on roller skates that took place on the street below our room (yes…very random but I guess that’s the point), we would have awakened to the sunrise and not just an hour and a half later. We collected ourselves and managed a half hearted attempt getting ready. We meandered up to the penthouse lounge at our hotel which was surprisingly entertaining. They had electronic dance music (EDM for short) and a live band. The band was rocking all the jams from the 60’s and 70’s ( ) . Median age in the place, if I had to guess, was about 47. The DJ who was rocking the place looked to be about 65. All in all, we had a good time. Not exactly the evening we had in mind but mission accomplished. We went out.
We are not 65, or even close to 45 for that matter. But the sad fact is, we’re not young… LOL!
I have a confession to make. I have a very bad habit… I know , I know you didn’t come here for this but …but I have to share..I…I…I talk to myself. HAHAHAHAHAHA! Not like everyday, just in moments of genuine excitement or pure frustration. As an example, it would not be uncommon for me to murmur a “C’mon Andrea, really?!?!” when I realized I left the house without putting on deodorant…again. Or even a quiet cheer of “yay yum!!” as I’m digging into my favorite Sweetz Bakery cupcake. (If I mention them enough, I’m hoping for a free cupcake hookup…just kidding…kinda) . This unique skill set of self expression bore itself out of my awkwardness and surprisingly contributes to it today. This was all the more evident in my recent return trip from a lunch break.
That day was hot. No, it was stupid hot and as the day progressed I grew more and more uncomfortable. To make matters worse, I chose the wrong undergarments. Bad undergarments can truly ruin a woman’s day as she will be preoccupied with finding stealth ways to make “ahem” adjustments. After a late lunch break, I pulled into the parking lot. I made an adjustment as I undid my seatbelt. As I stand to exit my car, I realized my adjustments were futile. In that moment in pure unadulterated frustration , I shout to myself “my boob itches!!!!!” and begin to scratch it in what I thought was in an empty parking lot.
“Oh are you going home then?” a quiet sincere voice says to me over my shoulder. In my fit, I failed to see the nice older gentleman custodian and his colleague heading in my direction. There I was, mortified and frozen with my hand on my boob. I adjusted quickly and tried to play dumb. “Oh…um… no I’m not going home. I’m just coming from lunch.” The older gentleman nodded ok and kept walking toward the building.
I ducked back into my car like I’m looking for something, like a place to hide.
On yet another shopping trip (yes I like to shop, so!… LOL) I was looking for a cute top . I just wanted something cheap so I decided to get my dig on at Ross. While scouring the racks, I noticed this cute little latino boy sitting in the shopping cart and his mother right next to me. To be courteous, I smiled and quickly resumed my digging. “Hola” the little boy says. I responded with my best ‘Hola’ my limited Spanish skills can muster. The kid couldn’t have been older than three.
His face lit up! All of a sudden I heard this little voice say “Mirra me zapatos!!! Mirra me zapatos!! “ (or something close to that) “Oh… uh…” was my initial response. “Mirra me zapatos!”, the boy responds again delightedly kicking his feet. “Oh… um… muy guapo” when I realized he was showing me his shoes. I put my head down to continued to look and now trying to work around the kid. My last response unleashed this flurry of comments from the kid that left me standing there like a deer in headlights. He feverishly and excitedly started talking and pointing. I honestly had no idea what the kid is saying. The only word I think I was able to catch was ‘brother’. I then noticed the kid’s mother further down the rack now starting to laugh at me. The only words I could find in my mental dictionary was the incredibly educated and insightful “ uh… ah… oh”. Finally after a minute of laughing at my expense, the mother came over to calm and quiet the child down. I took this as my opportunity to escape and quickly mumbled ‘adios’ as I made a bee line for the register with a shirt I had in my hand.
It might be time for some Rosetta Stone or something.
Oh it’s a sad day when you realize the reason that your shorts are shorter, is because your inner thigh eats them with your every step. When you stop and look in the mirror, you notice the shape of your shorts starts to take on this unflattering, pac-man half moon shape. Sigh. Since I realized that I could not my jeans all summer… again, I decided to go to the mall. I was in search of munchie-thigh-proof shorts. Four stores and 15 pairs of ridiculousness later the internal dialog revs up.
What ever happened to shorts? You know, regular shorts. Not the cootie cutter demin underwear that’s a breath above your goodness that is currently being passed off as shorts! Something mid thigh and flattering for a true woman’s figure. The true woman who goes to the gym like once or twice a month and then negates the workouts with a big cup of frozen yogurt. (And the frozen yogurt being passed off as okay because it has active cultures.) The true woman who has a diet Coke with her 5 pound greasy burger from Five Guys. The true woman who makes sure there is something chocolate in the house at all times.
Several fruitless hours later, I walk out of the 4th store with one skirt. A very cute skirt but ultimately not what my initial objective. It was then that I came to the conclusion, I either need to get back into the gym hardcore along with a diet or I just need to make my own clothes…
How much do gym memberships run nowadays?