Driving home from work yesterday I took an alternate route to stop at Petsmart. I was sitting at a light downtown right next to some car dealership when in the corner of my eye I see something running toward me.
I look to my right, outside the passenger side window, and see this big smiling face and hands motioning me to roll down my window.
Scared the shit out of me.
After the initial shock wore off, I rolled down the passenger side window just a little bit to hear what the guy had to say. He was young, clean cut and nicely dressed so I assumed he worked at the car dealership across the street.
"Hi! I would LOVE to buy your car!" He said enthusiastically.
I just sat there and looked at him for a couple seconds and said,
"How long have you had it?" He asked.
"About three years." I replied
"Yep, it's probably time for you to upgrade." He said this as he looked my car up and down like he was checking out a chick. He was undressing my car with his eyes!I'm surprised he didn't start humping it right then and there.
My car felt violated.
I notice the cars in front of me started moving and I realize the light had turned green. That didn't matter to this guy, he still stood there hanging over my window.
"What's your name?"
"Grand Pooba" I said quickly as I slowly started inching my car forward noticing the long line of cars stuck behind me.
He didn't budge.
"Nice to meet you Grand Pooba, my name is Rick, here's my card, give me a call!" And with that he reached in the window to hand me his card while the car was still inching forward.
He about lost his arm after I grabbed the card and took off!
I looked in my rear view mirror and saw that he was now stuck. This dude was in the middle of the road with cars whizzing by on both sides of him. I turned the corner so I'll never know if he made it back to the safety of his precious car dealership.
For all I know, some impatient driver decided to teach him a lesson and introduced him to the pavement.
Sheesh. I didn't realize the economy was that bad.
I got home the other night to a cute little package sitting on my doorstep. If you're like me, getting a package in the mail is the most exciting thing ever. Well, not quite as exciting as reconciling my bank account but I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who likes to do that.
Little did I know that this package would make me burst into tears. One of my absolute favorite bloggy sisters, Stacy (You know, The Random Chick) was so thoughtful and sent me this:
Here is a closer look,
It is a bottle of her famous Liquor del Cafe with a custom made label with my two angels displayed on front. I had no idea she was doing this, she did this all on her own! She designed the label and everything. I am going to keep that bottle forever. (Empty of course, nobody can resist her homemade Kaluha!)
Stacy, like many of you, knows what it feels like to lose a furry child. She lost her best friend, Elvis about 3 years ago. He was with her for 13 years and saw her through many rough times.
Stacy, you have no idea how much that meant to me! I really can't thank you enough. I also want to thank all of you for your kind words and emails about Dozer, it helps just to know that there are others who understand.
It's very intimidating. It seems everyone these days knows how to recycle and it's the "in" thing to do. Well I've never been one of the "in" crowd and recycling is no exception.
Yes Nana, you were right, I don't know how to recycle. (Which reminds me, I've got like ten bags of magazines with your name on them.)
Let me explain.
I'm not a complete idiot, I know that you can recycle paper and cardboard and crap like that but what confuses me is which items go in which recycling bins? Can I put glass bottles and paper in the same recycling bin? What about pop cans?
The other day I saw a sign left on the recycling bin in the break room at work that said you can't throw paper towels in it.
What? I'm just so confused. And why are some green and some blue? Do the different colors mean something like green is for glass and blue is for paper? Can you recycle plastic bags? What about empty wine bottles? Empty tequila bottles?
Not that I drink tequila or anything like that, I'm just curious.
Ok, here is a little scenario for you:
So I'm in the break room holding my empty frozen meal box and wondering if I can put it in the big blue recycling bin.
This is what my mind does:
"Crap. Someone just walked in, now they're going to see me.
I am so screwed.
If I put it in the recycling bin and it's not supposed to go there, they'll think I'm an idiot. If I throw it in the trash can when it can go in the recycling bin they're going to think I'm an ignorant idiot. They would be correct in both cases but I don't want them to know that!
Maybe if I pretend to be getting a drink I can stall long enough for them to leave. Oh no! They just put something in the microwave for 3 minutes! I have to stall for 3 minutes!"
My heart starts pounding and just as I reach for a cup, the the person decides to leave the room while his food is cooking.
"Oh thank God!" I throw the box in the recycling bin and make a mad dash for the door.
Jeebus I need some Xanax just so I can recycle!
Oh, and what about dirty stuff? Like paper plates with food stuck on it, can you stick that in the recycling bin?
And what the hell is composting? Why would anyone in they're right mind want to keep rotten food?
Is it really this hard to be environmental conscious?
I must be out of my mind right now, I can't believe I am actually going to tell this story.
On the internet no less.
But it's just too good not to share. So everyone come gather around, it's story time!
Let me give you a little background about my job. As you know, I'm an accountant for a gold mine (yes gold mines still exist and no I don't get free gold). Our office is downtown in an high rise building with 23 floors (this is relevant I promise) and I work on the 18th floor.
When I first started my job, I was the youngest accountant in the office. Actually, I was the youngest employee in the region. I was 23, straight out of college, you know, a rookie.
Well after working there for over a year I was finally coming into my own. You know, making a name for myself and feeling comfortable being the youngest chick in an office where the average employee is male, and about 5 billion years old.
So one day I was in the break room making my breakfast which consisted of toast and well, just toast. I put my toast in the toaster at which point I realize that I had to go potty. Bad. The bathroom is right outside the break room so I made a mad dash to "take care of bidness".
It wasn't until I was walking back to the break room that I smelled it.
"Dammit!" I think, "Now what am I gonna eat?"
As it turns out, that would be the least of my problems. I open the break room door and am greeted with a nice big puff of smoke.
I run to the toaster and throw what was left of my toast in the trash and frantically start waving my hands trying to dissipate the smoke, but my attempts were useless. Yes, if you haven't guessed by now, the fire alarm went off.
Everyone starts coming out of their offices and heading to the stairs.
"It's okay!" I try to tell them, "It was just my toast!" But nobody was listening, the alarm overpowered my voice. I didn't quite know what else to do so I just followed everyone to the stairwell and walked the 18 flights of stairs down to the main level and to the small patch of grass outside.
Guess what was waiting for us outside?
The fire trucks. Not just one, but three.
THREE. FIRE. TRUCKS.
And no, I didn't get to stand there and stare at the hot firemen, they were already in the building. If I was really thinking, I would have stayed in the building so I could be carried out in one of the Fireman's arms. Like Mitchell did on Modern family.
Had I known I would be seeing firemen, I would have dressed up a bit like Claire!
(LOVE THAT SHOW!)
But com'on, me? Think? How did I get in this situation in the first place? Yeah, I don't think.
I sat there on the grass with everyone else as the whole entire building was evacuated.
All 23 floors.
Finally we get the signal that we can go back in and they announce that someone burnt toast on the 18th floor. Oh sure, they listen to the fireman when they say it but when I'm screaming it, nobody listens.
So everyone heads back into the building, luckily taking the elevators this time. Slowly the news that I was the idiot who burnt the toast travels around the office and soon I was the topic of conversation for the rest of the day. The pun of jokes for the rest of the year.
The next morning when I showed up to work, I found something on my name tag on the wall outside my door. Written on a sticky note was my new nickname, the name I would be referred to by everyone in the halls, and anyone who came to visit my office: