Richmond Drivers

I'm not sure how your car pertains to a higher being.

I love driving, on highways and parkways and expressways and toll roads and any other place that doesn't have stop lights and stop signs. I am great at driving in those places. I have a tiny car that's relatively low to the ground. It's only a four-cylinder, thankfully. If I had anything with a larger engine I'm sure I would have had my license suspended by now. I like speeding, not because I'm in a hurry, but because I like getting wherever I'm going as fast as possible. I drive as though I have to pee really badly, all the time.

This type of driving doesn't really work in Richmond. People here are not in a hurry to get anywhere, ever. They take their time. They're okay with not honking at people who take more than ten seconds to go at a green light. They also don't mind going ten under the speed limit on heavily trafficed roads. I don't understand it, I'm anxious to get where I'm going, whether it's the grocery store, to meet friends, to get to DC - it doesn't matter. This also applies to drives I take on late nights to nowhere, it's nice to move as fast as my mind is moving sometimes.

While discussing our upcoming trip to Savannah, my friend says to me, "It's supposed to take what eight hours to get there? So, that means you'll have us there in six."

I grew up in Northern Virginia. I know traffic. I know my way around it. And I know like 92473 ways to get wherever I need to go. I have no concept of what a mile is, but I can tell you how long it will take to get somewhere. Since moving to Richmond I don't like driving anywhere that takes more than fifteen minutes to drive to (unless it's another city's limits). If it takes more than fifteen minutes to get to, it's probably not worth going to anyway, i.e. the suburbs.

These are my issues with Richmond drivers:

1. Signals

Every car made ever has two of them. They work when you push a lever up or down. They allow people around you to anticipate your turn. It's a courtesy to those around you, prevents accidents, and when both are flashing they let people know that they should go around you. Anyway, they're really great, and I highly recommend using them.

Though, they can be used improperly, like when you need to change lanes and you do so, but you forget to turn your signal off after your move and proceed to irritate everyone around you. Stop it.

2. Speed Limits

No one in Richmond seems to be aware of what they mean or how they work. Sure, you're not supposed to go faster than they say, but you're also not supposed to got ten under the speed limit. I get it, if you do this you're probably really stupid and not sure where you are (get a GPS) and aren't stopping for directions, or you're really old. I don't care, just think of all the people that have to pee and get out of their way.

3. Abrupt Stops

Oh! Hi! I see that you're a chick my age and apparently a terrible driver. You've stopped in the middle of a main street, cool. You're picking up your friend? They're taking forever? I know how that goes. I also know that you have a button on your dashboard with a little red triangle on it, you should push it. See what happens. Oh, crazy, it turns both your signals on. Thanks! Now I know to drive around you when the other lane is clear. That was like so easy.

4. Parallel Parking

Richmond has shit public transportation. The buses are undependable, and...oh wait, there is no other form of public transportation, so we drive everywhere. That's fine, but we live in a city and there are a lot of us. You don't need six feet between you and the other cars to pull out properly. Really. You are part of the parking problem. Don't complain about not being able to not find a spot if you typically take up two.

If you don't live in the city and aren't accustomed to parallel parking, please stay in the suburbs with your giant car. We live here, and we park on the street and you're wasting space.

5. Cobblestone

There is a particular stretch of cobblestone called "Shockoe Slip." I have to drive down it every day on my way home. The speed limit is still 25 MPH there, and it is still two lanes. I promise.

6. Lanes

These are conveniently marked in contrasting white or yellow on the black asphalt. In most areas there are two lanes. Pick one! Stay in it. And if for some reason you need to change lanes, use your signal!

7. One-Way streets

I get it, you're drunk. We all are. I assume that you know how to read arrows. Follow them.

8. Trucks/SUVs/Other giant vehicles

You (I'm assuming) live in the city. Why would you need a giant car? Do you transport things frequently? If you do, it's probably a company car, in which case there's probably a company lot you can leave it in. Do that.

9. Magnets

Your car is covered in them. They support some really noble cause, I'm sure. But you're not really raising awareness, you're saying, "Hi, I feel the need to advertise everything I'm associated with in public, all the time." We don't care. And I will remove them from your car when I'm drunk. You are welcome.

10. Vanity Plates!

Virginia has an inordinate amount of these because they're really cheap here. Cheap also sometimes (most of the time) implies tacky. It's great that you're "OPNYN8D" or "AWWWSUM" - we all feel this way about ourselves, but the rest of us let other people find out in a personal, less public way.

Hanging Out

I enjoy hanging out with friends. We go to movies, or to each others' houses or with the advent of my birthday, we mostly wobble around from bar to bar. We are those annoying "early twenty something" girls that you probably hate. But that's my interpretation of the phrase "hanging out."

This is not everyone else' interpretation. Or perhaps it's just Richmond's interpretation is different, I really don't know. I don't know slang, and I'm not a passive communicator, I say exactly what I mean. The end.

I had been out on a few dates with a particular guy in town, and that fizzled, or at least it did for me. I told him one night while we were sitting in my car that I didn't think we were romantically compatible. He didn't like this response, and went on to ask me why I would join a dating service if I wasn't looking for a relationship. This seems silly to me, the implication here, at least what I gathered, was that he thought I was looking for something instant - that I was looking to jump into something quickly. I wasn't, and I'm not. Actually, let me rephrase that, I'm not looking to jump into anything with anyone that I don't have that immediate connection with. It's not "love at first sight," it's more something at first glance. It's a lingering feeling, connection that isn't forced, it just is.

Though, I did enjoy the time we spent together, the chemistry just wasn't there. He explained that he "didn't need anymore friends" which is fine, but rude to say. And I told him that I was looking more to meet people than for a long-term relationship; if something didn't work out, well then at least I'd met someone new and hopefully someone that would still be interested in knowing me.

He leaned in and "whispered I'm going to make this hard for you" and kissed me. Like that was supposed to change my mind or something. It didn't. He got out of my car and I went home.

The following weekend he sent me a series of passive aggressive text messages, though when I finally confronted him about it he claimed that I just didn't "get his sense of humor, yet." This combined with condescending statements regarding how I interact with people and that I need to be "socialized" - whatever that means - didn't exactly help his case. So when he called me a week later at two in the morning and asked if I was "hanging out" I wasn't sure what he was talking about.

I had gathered that he thought I was interested in his friend, not true, and thought he was asking about his friend. His friend and I had been "hanging out" in my sense of the phrase, platonically. He went on, "No, are we hanging out?"

I think we use that term differently, you mean are we dating? No. I thought I explained this to you last week.

"No, we made out in your car."

No, you kissed me, there was no making out.

"So, we're not hanging out?

No. I am not interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with you. I'm sorry.

"Oh, well, bye."

This was followed by him tweeting about "realtalk" and then blocking me on Twitter. Real mature.

Let's be clear though, I had been seeing him less than a month, and we had never had a DTR (define the relationship talk), so I wasn't leading him on. I've been out with lots of people and met lots of people and generally putting myself in new environments in which I can meet new people. I'm not "hanging out," I'm hanging out and I prefer it that way.

like a pissed, seaside donkey

Between yesterday and today Northern Virginia and DC have accumulated as much as thirty inches of snow. Richmond got rain yesterday and some snow today. It didn't accumulate as much, but was nasty enough outside that my boss closed the salon today.

I thought about driving up last night, and then I thought better of it. And Chanello's (the awful, but delicious pizza place across the street from my apartment building) was open, and the remainder of a six-pack of Shiner Bock in my fridge, and Groundhog Day on TV - everything was point towards staying in. And I did, and I made it through my pizza in about twenty minutes, three of the five beers, the latest episode of The Real World DC, and two showing of Groundhog Day on Bravo. There was so much that coud have been accomplished during that time, but when the weather is shitty, who's in the mood to do anything?

But today. TODAY! Today, I had to make it to NOVA. My brother and his wife are visiting from Spain and I haven't seen them since August, and this may be the last time I see them before their baby is born. My sister-in-law is slated to leave tomorrow, so it had to be today. And I made it. In one piece. On interstate 95. In my shittyshitty Toyota (that is going to combust any day now). This was quite the feat, but a completely stupid thing to do. So stupid in fact, God at one point shouted at me to STOP! GO HOME! TO RICHMOND! in the way of me doing a complete 360 in the middle of the road.

Needless to say, I did not listen. But I came to a stop, watched the now on-coming traffic pass - all of two cars - collected myself, made a u-turn and continued on my way.

I am, as my mother says a "very hard-headed" person. And upon my arrival she shook her head and gave me a hug and told me how stupid I am. The rest of my family shortly followed suit. I did not tell them about the spinning incident. (None of them read my blog, so...)

Actually, first my brother, Joseph, told me to take my boots off because he didn't want to get his socks wet, and then he hugged me while explaining how I was going to help him shovel out a spot for my car. He's so sweet. He and I dug, and dug and moved most of a pile that he had made earlier today, all to accomodate my car and make room for a plow, just in case the plow decided to show up (it did).

My father's birthday was this past Thursday and Joseph's is this Friday, so we had all made plans to do birthday things this weekend. And then it snowed, so those plans went kaput. Instead we watche the remainder of a Western my dad had Tivo-ed and listened to him explain something every time he paused it - because we love him. This was followed by a spaghetti dinner, In the Loop and homemade cinnamon rolls courtesy of my very talented mother.

My dad words for the State Department and is a retired Marine. I have been trying to get him to see In the Loop since i saw the trailor months ago. I only saw the film myself a few weeks ago, but kept it was passt it's due date and only returned after I saw that Blockbuster had charged my card for it. It is a political satire about the United States' relationship with Britain. According to my father, people don't really use such coarse language, but according to to other "govvies" that I know, they do use it. My father enjoyed it, my brother, sister-in-law and sister all fell asleep and my mother busied herself with the rolls, only occasionally complaining about the language from upstairs.

The Porn Stars Upstairs

When Jessica and I moved into our apartment in May there was a very quiet dude who lived above us with his two tiny dogs. The dogs were also very quiet. And because of all this quiet I was able to sleep during typical sleeping hours.

Then he moved out and a bunch of Asian chicks moved in. They are decidedly not the brightest crayons in the box. I have to complain to them about something weekly. It started with them "building a bookshelf" at midnight. Really. Apparently they missed the memo from suburbia: Be quiet between 9 am and 9 pm. Common courtesy. Learn it. Geez.

Anyway, they were also the cause of the leak in our bathroom. They didn't have a shower curtain going all the way around the inside of their tub. Odd, considering that Jessica bought three from the dollar store (or somewhere) to fit all the way around our tub as soon as we moved in. I had to ask to see their bathroom and asked if they would mind putting a curtain up on all sides of their tub. They obliged and the leak stopped. Huzzah!

But they're still really loud. And they're always having dudes over. Attractive dudes. Attractive, dumb dudes. Anthea and I have decided that all the noise we hear all the time and the explanation for their furniture always being in a different place (because I get to peek in every time they open the door when I ask them to stop doing whatever it was that they were doing) is that they are porn stars filming orgies in their living and dining rooms. Fetish porn. Fetish-tiny-asian-girls-with-cut-white-dudes porn.

Last night I stayed up fairly late. And every time Anthea of myself heard something loud and indistinguishable we would blame it on their "shoot." Well we finally wanted to go to bed, around one (which is late for a Wednesday night) and they were still being really loud. One would have thought that it would have stopped by that point, but I was so wrong. So I went up and knocked. The door opened a little bit, but not enough to see anything. Then someone closed it all the way and I heard scattering of people and whispers, including this gem, "Hide. It's the cops." To which I responded that it was just the girl from downstairs. Eventually some dude who does not live there answered the door and asked what the problem was. I explained that they were being really loud, that I had work in the morning, etc. to which he was apologetic. And they were quieter...for like fifteen minutes. Then the boys - three of them - moved to the stoop in front of my building, but more importantly outside my bedroom window. After my doorbell had been rung TWICE I went out and asked them to be quiet, again. On a fucking Wednesday night. They explained that it was their friend's 21st birthday and that they didn't ring our doorbell. I had to point out that he was LEANING against all of the doorbells! And when I asked why they didn't take their friend out to a bar, you know, as is customary on 21st birthdays (Hey! Everyone! I expect to be drinking for free in Richmond and/or DC for my 21st, and cupcakes should be involved, in return I will bake for all of your birthdays. Wait, I already do that, because I am awesome.). The more attractive of the three told me it was too late to go to a bar because they were closing, he apparently didn't understand that they should have taken her out hours before. What the hell?

So, I'm pretty sure they hate me. And telling myself that they're "filming" is starting to make me feel better. I just really hope I never meet a dude that's really into Asian chicks w/Bros porn.

Fucking Richmond

I would like to tell you a story. It's about a girl who is in college, working, attempting to have a social life, has no love life because boys suck, and often gets home late.

This girl is currently transitioning between roommates and paid her utilites last week. Of these, her cable and internet were included. But her carrier, Comcast sent her a statement that stated that she was behind in her payments, except, this was the first she had heard from them in months, even after calling the customer service people asking about her bills. They told her it was fine before this statment was sent, but whatever, she has intergrity, she knew that the bill needed to be paid and so she paid it.

Then about a week after sending them a check she get another bill saying that she is late, but her check hasn't gone through yet. So she tries to check everything out online, but their Web site keeps haveing "errors" and tells her to "check back at a later time." Awesome.

Then she notices flashing outside her window. So, of course she felt the need to know what was going on. She waslked outside and saw two police cars sitting next to each other, not doing anything, just two chatting policemen. Nothing odd going on, no one being loud, no one drunkenly walking home, nothing. So she stood on the sidewalk and watched them until the police officer in the closer car noticed her and they drove off.

The. End.


I can deal with people being loud outside. I can deal with hearing everyone drive by, but flashing lights when I'm trying to go to bed, not so much.

And Comcast is being stupid.

And my I had to call my land lord company today to tell them about the leak in my bathroom FOR THE THIRD TIME! They "fixed" it for the third time also. And the trash situation behind my building is getting out of hand. I sweartodgod that if thing don't start getting better around here, I will totally stage an uprising in my complex and sue those motherfuckers. Sure, it may be late, and I may be tired, but I am so over dealing with Richmond's bullshit. I get that companies that lease to college students take advantage of us, and I know it's my fault for not doing more research before I moved in, but that doesn't mean everyone has to deal with it. Mainly anyone who may rent with my company in the future. They already think I'm a nuisance for reporting everyfuckinglittlething, but I shouldn't have to, because it shouldn't be a problem. Kind of like how with my roommate I was always asking her to do stuff around the apartment, but wasn't so much mad that she wasn't doing it as much as I was mad she had to be asked to do it - like that, except with a rental company that makes bank off of poor college students who can't afford to live somewhere better. I am so serious about this. And I know that I'm taking on a ton of stuff this year, but this ahs to be done. Richmond needs a swift kick in the ass and who better to give it to them than myself?

nineteen-year-old-girl-code

I think it's funny when I see dudes out with girls my age, that have given me or others shit, or complained about my accompanying others among themselves. It's this certain feeling of rightness, like dude, really? And you hate me because why? Oh, that's right, because you're a prick.

And of course my Favorite Person always sees me, but first avoids eye contact. FP will not look me in the eye for a good fifteen second. FP will look at everything around me, whether or not there are people. FP will then finally make eye contact and act surprised, as though they did not realize I had already said hello. We will then exchange polite small talk until one of us dismiss ourselves from the situation by claiming to meet someone or having something else to do. FP and I have many mutual friends and aquaintances, but FP has always maintained their distance. As a result, I find these awkward encounters amusing, while they seem more and more uncomfortable with each one.

Remember that movie 'Groundhog Day'? Yeah? Well...

Yesterday I spoke with both my sister and my sister-in-law about going to Kings Dominion today with the majority of my family. Each agreed that meeting when it opened (10:30 am) would be fine. So this morning when I left at a quarter after ten after waking up late and showering, I arrived to find that I was the only one there. April was still at her house in the West End and everyone else was about an hour away. I suppose I should have called someone to verify the time, but I already thought I was running late. And it wasn't so bad, I hadn't eaten anything yet and waited in Burger King. Everyone except April showed up around eleven thirty, because no one called her to let them know that they were getting close. My brothers cannot be counted on to plan thing efficiently, that's okay though, that's why they have sisters - three of them.

We had an enjoyable time. Ella, my niece is five and loves roller coasters, and my sister-in-law, Laiene (Lie-in-Ay - who is Basque) was at an amusement park for the first time ever. I'm not really sure how that is possible, she is thrity-one. I don't think I know anyone over the age of five, that has never been to one, but then I grew up a reasonable distance from three and she you know, grew up a reasonable distance from teh beach and the mountains. It was fun seeing her reaction in comparison with my nieces after we went on the Ricochet, the first ride of the day. Laiene was in shock and Ella couldn't wait for the next one.

I had to leave early to go to work. Lame.

After work, I parked and turned my car engine off, but leaving the radio on. But the radio didn't stay on. So I tried turning the car on. And it didn't turn on. I haven't checked the oil in at least three thousand miles and my car may need some more. Awesome. My phone is thankfully working again, but of course my car isn't. Seriously, every week! What is with the universe?

Instead of getting upset about it I watched some chick attempt to parallel park in front of me for a few minutes before I explained that she was doing it wrong. I don't know why people in Richmond don't know how to parallel park, it is not that difficult. I have spent a lot of free time at work observing the people setting out for happy hour attempt to park their SUVs on Main Street, it makes the time pass by faster, and is, you know, amusing. The chick explained that she'd never really needed to parallel park before and had just gotten her car. But the spot in front of me was huge andher car was tiny, and well, whatever, hopefully she gets it now.


Aside: The past four weeks have been absolute shit. I think I'm officially entering that stage of college where I stop shaving in an effort to consciously repel the opposite sex. Never in my life did I think this would happen. I have loved boys since I realized that there was an opposite sex, but lately they just keep pissing me off. Tonight I was discussing the way people communicate with a Myers/Briggs expert/consultant that comes into work. She didn't explain anything new to me, we mostly just bitched about how irritating it is when people don't seem to try to meet you in the middle when it comes to communication. Ugh, I don't want to deal with it anymore. There, I'm a stereotypical nineteen year old girl, and I hate boys.

Fuck my life.

pro-choice/anti-stupidity

Today on BYT, a link to this site was posted.



I typically see teen parents and wonder that a lot myself. And upon looking at all the pictures I couldn't help but think of a girl I took Cosmetology with. I'll call her Ashley. Ashley was a pretty cool, if not self-loathing chick. She was the type of girl you would look at and label "goth" or the exact opposite of me. She was also the stereotype that kept my parents from supporting my decision to take Cosmetology instead of other elective courses.

One week towards the end of my first year in Cosmetology, our teacher had us read over some letters that the second-year-students had written for the upcoming crop the next year. All the letters said the same things, "Mrs. Burchell is strict, but she cares about you," "do your theory," "it gets easier," "a lot of people will drop out," and the most notably prophetic, "at least three girls will get pregnant."

Ashley was one of at least three girls to get pregnant (not to mention those that had abortions and miscarriages), but her's wasn't an accident. It was completely planned. She and her boyfriend felt that they loved each other enough to bring another person into the world. And while that may have been true, that didn't make it at all responsible. She figured that she'd be able to support a kid on her salary from the Haircuttery and with whatever her boyfriend made at Costco. In theory this could work, but certainly not in Northern Virginia.

I have since had lunch with her and her beautiful baby girl. Everything about their situation is stereotypical. They live with his family, he's enlisting in the Army and they're engaged. I could not do that. She's not the only person I know who's having kids and getting married that's my age. I'm nineteen! I couldn't want to not have kids more than I do now, I certainly do not want kids before I'm thirty.

So when I see teenage girls with babies on their hips and meet guys who have gotten multiple girls pregnant and meet people that don't know where to get free condoms, or cheap contraception - I'm in awe. I just don't get it. And it's not so much "why the fuck do you have a kid?" it more "why the fuck did you decide to have sex without any sort of contraception and when you found out that you were pregnant why did you decide to have the child and how are you content living this life that limits you in every way possible?" I don't mean to sound so negative because I don't believe that children are simply mistakes and ruin peoples lives if born at the wrong time, but I do see pictures like these and think, "fuck, how could they have not known?"

While I can appreciate the humor of this website, the fact that it exists I feel defines what is missing in our education system. Sex education, and not just the kind that explains the various forms of contraception and sexually related diseases and infections, but the kind that says "hey, don't you want to be able to give your kids everything? Don't you want a great life for yourself and for them? Because if you have a kid now your life, and their life is going to be hard and life's already complicated enough."

It's really not that hard

I work next to 3 Monkeys, a local bar/sports-bar/bro-hangout. I do not particularly like the place, but it isn't expensive and it's convenient, so I order from there quite a bit. I usually get a pineapple pizza (they're small and I can usually make it last two or three meals) or a salad. Nothing too complicated. Though they don't have a "pineapple pizza" listed on their menu, instead it's a "monkey pie" with ham. I always specify that I do not want ham, only pineapple. Again, not complicated.

Usually we call and the wait is about fifteen minutes. So, we wait, pick up our food, eat - the end. Today my coworker and I ordered desserts - mousse and a brownie sundae. Over the phone they told us that it would be about ten minutes. That was fine, until I got there and waited twenty more.

The waitress that was "helping" me is tall, slim, has long dark hair and is quite a bit older than the rest of the girls that work there. She always manages to screw up my order. She can't manage to remember that it's only pineapple, and will give me ham, or there won't be any toppings, or there will just be ham, or it will be completely wrong all together. Tonight, she just made me wait. I am a very impatient person, and could have gone to Kroger's and bought a half-gallon of ice cream and a pan of brownies in the time that it took for her to scoop it into a styrofoam container. When I paid she asked if I needed change, and I of course told her yes. Then when I finally got my order, said thank you and started to turn around, she grasped the box and kind of squatted down as to be on my level and forcefully said, "You're. Welcome." Needless to say, I did not tip her, surprisingly for the first time.

I'm fairly certain that she complained about how rude I was after I left, but I don't feel bad. She sucks. The other customers suck, and all the waitresses are skinny-fat chicks who put out, a lot. It's the type of place that people who actually like Georgetown would go and be like "Oh, this isn't bad. TWO DOLLAR MILLER LITE! Hell yes!"

Oh, Deary!

Oh, GEEZ! I haven't written in over two months! And if you know me (and presumably, you do) then you know that I am busybusybusybizzybuzzbuzzbuzzbuzz... I've been meaning to, I just haven't gotten around to it, because I know that once I start I won't be able to come back to it, I'll want to start over, and because of this writing blogs takes me forever. So, I try not write them unless I know that I don't have to be anywhere for a couple of hours, this is very rare.

So, let me give you the abridged version of my life for the past two months:
- I had a wonderful Thanksgiving and after tiring of my family was able to spend the remainder of it with my friend Couch as it was his birthday and I had made him a cake and a pie. I am an excellent baker.
-I had exams. I passed. That is all.
-I went to Sugar Mountain in Boone, North Carolina for Christmas with my family. It was relatively drama free.
--On the way there I almost hit a deer, it was huge, and when I stopped the lady behind me hit the back of the family mini-van. Everyone was fine, including the deer who just starred at me for a bit before running back into the woods.
- I was not born to "shread" - this was manifested in my inability to stand up on a snowboard for more than five seconds.
- I went to New York City for four days the week of New Year's. I will do it better next time. I did make a new friend though, he is Russian and thinks I'm silly. He is correct.
-I have been to a lot of shows and have been a part of dramadramadrama. I'll probably won't write about a certain encounter more than this right here because the last time I wrote about one 239842739 people read it (Hi, everyone!)
- As a result, I'm attempting to avoid it. I'm even being nice-ish, you all know how I feel about nice people (they are so boring) so I'm going more for the, "oh, she's fun!" girl.
-My love life has gotten more complicated, and up until this past weekend, I was hoping for something more than what it is, but I realized that it's just fine after all I'm nineteen, and I don't need a boyfriend.
-I got yelled at in the metro.
-Right after that I found an iPhone.
- I met an amazing woman at the Inauguration, she claims I "saved her life" (I will blog about the inauguration, I promise).
- I wrote a story. It will get published. And you will read it. And if you have anything to do with me and DC, you will read and go, "OMG,really?"
- My grades were crap last semester so I'm on "academic warning" (pre-academic probation) so I've been trying this thing called studying, I've always heard about it, but busied myself with other things.
-I've started going to the library, and I like it. I'm there right now.
-I have to blog for one of my classes everyday, so I may be posting multiple times over the next few days to attempt to make up for it. Some of them will have prompts, I'll tell you and you can skip those. I thought about creating a seperate blog, but I already have a ton of things to keep track of and it wasn't worth it.
- I am going to be famous by the time I am twenty-two, or at least published in something worth reading and/or have a TV show on Bravo or Style, etc. I'm writing the pilot now. And I don't know if you've heard this, but it's my theme song of 2009. Joel is going to be my personal photographer and replace Annie Lebowitz as resident at Vanity Fair when I take over there.

What the Cool Kids Drive

I have had my car for about two weeks. The first day having it I got two flat tires. Not one, but TWO! I still have no idea how this happened.

It was a Sunday morning and I was on my way to Millie's to have brunch with April and Steven. I had parked on the street the night before and nothing was wrong then. And then Sunday morning I didn't notice the front passenger side until I was turning up twelfth street and noticed a funny sound. It was a nice day, so I had my windows down. I pulled over, emptied the trunk, only to find that I didn't have a jack. I then flagged down some dude to see if he had a jack, he did, but we couldn't figure out how to remove it from his trunk.

I then proceeded to call April, over and over again, she didn't answer, so I called Steven, thankfully he did answer.

By the time they arrived I was done crying. And Steven took care of everything, and then we all hopped in their car and drove to the gas station to fill the tire with air and check for any leaks. We couldn't find any leaks, but we put the spare on anyway just in case. Well, then the spare went flat. So I pulled into an empty parking lot and we all drove back to their house to get some tools that Steven needed and then he and I drove back to try and fix it yet again.

One of the bolts (I think that's what they're called) was almost impossible to remove, even with the electric wrench (?) that Steven had brought. He eventually got it off, but we found that it had skipped a thread and part of it and the screw had been stripped. So, adding to the adventure, we drove to three car part stores, finally found one that was open and were able to get all the parts we needed, and eventually were able to get the original tire put back on and drive safely back to April and Steven's house.

I am a Pittman, and should have anticipated something to go wrong, because it always does.

And not a week later, I got a huge semi-circle shaped crack on my windshield from a rock hitting it on 95.

And now my car is always hot because the heat doesn't turn off. I would expect the opposite to happen, but no, even when the switch is turned all the way to the off position, heat is definitely still being blown from the air vents. I should probably be more worried about this, but as it happens, it is winter and there are worse things that could happen; and with my luck, I'll take what I can get.

On the upside, it gets tremendous mileage, I go to DC and back on about half a tank of gas. That is awesome. And it is cleaner than all of my friends' cars, though it could use a vacuuming. I'm kind of a freak about not having junk in my car. I'm not an exceptionally tidy person, but I am very OCD about odd things (thank you, Dad), and clean cars is one of them.

Dance Dance Dance

On Friday I had made plans to meet some friends in The City (DC, never Richmond) for lunch. Well that didn't happen. Instead I got stuck in Richmond for and extra hour because my dad sent tickets to my sister's priority mail - meaning because they weren't there when the "package" came and my sister and her husband both work, and I got out of class at eleven, I had to go pick up the "package."

I'm calling it a "package" because really it was a series of envelopes. Five to be exact. Five freaking envelopes for three measly tickets to Celtic Thunder, a show that my dad has supposedly picked out for my birthday.

My dad is incapable of making things convenient. He had sealed the ticketmaster envelope, put it inside a white letter envelope and put tape over all the seals, put that inside an orange padded (???) envelope and again put tape over all the seals and edges and corners but this time it was that horrible tape with the strings in it that makes anything impossible to open, then all of that into a cardboard envelope, and then into a large bag-like envelope. It took me about ten minutes to get through it all with the help of my keys. Then I had to drop two of them off at my sister's house.

I could go on about all the different ways my dad could have distributed the tickets to us in a more convenient way (a single envelope, for example, willcall...).

Then I texted my friends and told them I would be late, at which point they had to cancel because they were using their lunch breaks and had to be back at work. So I was pissed. And I got lost. Somehow, upon leaving April's house I got onto 295 South instead of North. So I took an hour long detour around Richmond. And on my way back through RIchmond a huge rock hit my windshield. It came from a bulldozer that was on a flatbed in the next lane about three cars in front of me.

This was not what I had planned for an enjoyable weekend.

I finally made it to DC around four. Ridiculous. And since everyone was at work, I went shopping. At Coup de Foudre, a lingerie shop across from E Street Cinema. I've known about this place for awhile and thought about going there before, but hadn't, mostly because it is very expensive. But, since I was feeling somewhat irrational, I figured why not. A good bra is an investment, right?

I spent approximately three hundred dollars in an hour. I bought two sets. And got refitted. And for someone who has sworn by Victoria's Secret since the seventh grade, I have changed my mind completely. Apparently lace can be supportive. AND! And they had pretty bras in my size (enormous). After wearing one for the past two days, I can tell you that it's already made a huge difference. They just feel better and if you're currently wearing a shitty, stretched out elastic band of a bra, reconsider.

Afterwards I decided that I needed something cute to wear to Sorted that night after Celtic Thunder, so I went to H&M. And surprisingly didn't find nearly as many things as I usually do. I only tried on three things. I ended up buying shiney, blue, shirt-dress. I'll admit, it came up kind of high on the sides, and I probably should have worn it with leggings (real leggings) or my black skinny pants, but instead I wore it with black hose and heels. I'm not really sure if I was wearing hose as pants, or a shirt as a dress, probably both, but whatever, I looked fabulous.

At this point I had not had anthing solid to eat all day, so I grabbed a smoothie from Maggie Moo's and headed to Baltimore. I got there at about a quarter to eight. I was feeling very irritable from having driven for about five hours that day and not having eaten anything. And I snapped ay my parents, mostly my dad for picking the most horrible birthday present earlier. I mean my parents have always been bad at birthdays. And every year, if I wanted anything to happen I had to plan it, except last year, when my mom decided to have a failed surprise party that turned into a roast. Anyway, no one has ever thrown me a birthday party and I resent that because I'm pretty good about birthdays. Anyone that knows me knows what a huge fucking deal they are.

I've digressed. When I told my dad all this, he said that it wasn't even for my birthday, which would mean that my parents didn't do shit for my big day. I didn't even get a fucking card. Or a cake, or candles. And aside from the movies that my roommate got me and the most beautiful roses you've ever seen from another friend, I didn't get any presents. My mom tried to say that the car was my present, but I reminded her that I would have gotten that anyway. My dad agreed and asked what I wanted. I had told them that I wanted accupuncture over a month ago, several times and each time I brought it up my mom said that our insurance wouldn't cover it. DUH! That's why it's a gift.

So after crying and being a total brat, April and Steven arrived and we took in the audience, a sea of sixty-five to seventy year olds, and waited for the show to start.

Celtic Thunder is like Disney on Ice for the elderly, but without the ice. The stage was set up to look like a rocky shore in a storm. The preformers were five men, and all the songs were chauvenist and trite. "...life is an ocean, love is a boat...I'm the captain, you're my first mate...we have our own crew..." Really, those were lyrics in one of the songs.

One of the guys was like fourteen and sang a song about pupply love, during which he waved around a shirt. Some girl, who was probably like twelve ran up to try and catch it when he threw it and completely missed. So sad, she's lucky no one knows who she is.

April, Steven and I spent the entire show laughing. It was so ridiculous. My mom kept nudging us to be quiet because we were "making a scene." I almost feel bad for possibly ruining the show for the people around us, but it was just so bad, so I don't. There wasn't anything "celtic" about it except for the fact that the guys were Irish and they sang Danny Boy, but that was it.

I left for DC as soon as soon as it was over. And after parking I changed into the aforementioned dress and hose in my car and was ready to dancedancedance. And I did, for at least three hours.

For those that aren't aware of my awful stage fright, dancing on the stage at a backstage dance night at The Cat is about as close to preforming as I will ever get. And I don't grind, I simply dance the way I would in my room, and since most of the people there don't know me and those that do, think I'm adorable (because I am), I am somehow able to completely let go. And that for me is very difficult. So I danced and danced. And at one point was offered a double shot of bourbon which I had to decline because you know, I was at the Cat and I'm underage (but bourbon is so good). Later when I was in towards the back of the stage, some girl grabbed my hand pulled me to the front of the stage. I had seen her grinding with another girl earlier and told her I didn't do that, she laughed and told me to "give them what they want." At this point I was very confused. She made me look out at the room. People were watching me. I mean, people that I didn't know. And for probably the first time in my life, I didn't care.

So I danced and danced and danced. And David wanted to dance with me. He was a very awkward twenty-eight year old who had no rythm. I danced with him, I danced with a lot of people. But Idanced with him for three songs. He was drunk and told me that I beautiful and that he wanted to kiss me. I explained to him that that would be inappropriate and that we could just dance. By the third song I was sick of him and told him that that was the last dance. He didn't like that and tried to continue dancing with me, so I pushed him away and explained that this was my song* and I didn't want to dance with anyone else.

Eventually it was over. I got asked for drugs, also a first. Apparently is was difficult for people to believe that I was sober.

What a crazy day.


* I am a much better dancer than that girl in the video, and I wish there was a better video for that song. This and this are both equally dancable and all are sad.

Good Question(s)

My roommate is a polysci/history major. I appreciate this because she is not stupid in the slightest, and I'm pretty sure I would cut off my ears if I had to deal with someone stupid.

Anyway, she was reading The Nation last night and gave me the link to this article on Sarah Palin. After reading that one I found this one by the same person.

Sure it's "liberal media" but hell, she is right.

Now the last article I'll touch on a bit. I don't agree with it 100%, more like 95%. I don't think that girls/boys are being forced to have babies against "their judgment" because they already had bad judgment when they chose to have unprotected sex and I believe in contraception and wish that she had talked about that more. I understand that Palin was in a group that supported contraception, but she's stated over and over again that she will not support sex education that includes the teaching of contraception. If everyone would take care of that tiny detail we wouldn't have all the fuss about teen-pregnancy and abortions, now would we?

If you don't get it, you just don't get it

As you all know, I work at the Haircuttery. It's not so bad, I'm used to being around people with different views than I have, but I never bargained for what I've found there. I also know I'm a snob and consider my opinions and ways of doing things quite a bit higher than other's; but sometimes there is no reasoning with people (aka convincing them that they are wrong).

At work last week on a particularly slow day three of us were in the back "reading" Elle and Glamour magazines. In them there is an add for Skechers with Tori Spelling in it. She looks weird, especially in those adds. This began a discussion that led to me telling the other girls of my hatred for Sketchers. Usually I'm around fellow haters (with the exception of my mother who thinks they're wonderful looking shoes but bad on her back), but unknown to me I was in the presence of people who actually like Everything about Skechers. I tried to explain that they are cheaply made (of plastic), have that horribly huge S on them, generally ugly, etc. but there was no reasoning. Then one girl started complaining about her back - this particular girl is cheap, very cheap, and overweight. If you wear cheap shoes with absolutely no support and carry a few extra pounds, in addition to being on your feet at work everyday, of course your back is going to hurt.

I've tried to explain to her several times that she needs to get inserts, to which she replys, "I have. I've bought those Doctor Scholl's ones." No, I tell her, you need to see a podiatrist and get custom ones made. She then complains about how much that would cost, but she's considering getting back surgery!?!?!?!?! Three hundred dollars on something that could help you a lot and avoid the surgery or thousands of dollars on an avoidable surgery. This is the same girl who tells me that she knows losing weight would help her but she's just so lazy. She has told me that she is lazy. AGH!

Moving on/going back, that conversation led to us discussing trailors, and me of course in my typical nature telling everyone that I hate trailors, too. Trailors are generally crappy, trailor parks are gross, and the people that live there aren't usually much better. I feel I can say this because I've spent plenty of time (not lately) around/in trailors growing up with family in the south where a double-wide is the standard of living. Ms. Cheapy apparently grew up in a trailor, and was now offended. I almost felt bad... almost.

The other girl with us could see where I was coming from but thought that I was being a bit harsh (haven't heard that before). I love this girl, she is one of the sanest people that I work with, exceptionally talented and should be doing so much better than the Haircuttery. And then she had to drop thie awful bomb on me a few days ago when we were discussing music. She knows that I go to shows fairly often, and asked what my favorite band was/is - that she's heard of. I told her the Killers. Her's is Nickelback. NICKELBACK! She thinks that his voice is one of the best of today, and that Brandon Flowers' voice is whiney! Whiney!?

I'm not going to waste my time explaining why Nickelback is the worst band of all time (and Creed, and Korn).

please watch this