You don't need Emily Post for this...

Last weekend, I had plans with the hot cop. He had to cancel last minute because of work, but he asked if I was available for the next day. I didn't have any plans, but I was reluctant to make any because I knew the potential for a headache was pretty high since I was getting my hair did. Nonetheless, I still agreed to schedule a meet-up. Well, he ended up standing me up. Normally, this would result in a lot of angry thoughts and text messages involving a few choice words. But my head hurt so damn much from getting a sew-in that I barely noticed he didn't show up. Later, I found out that he didn't show up because he was depressed over the news that he is getting deployed next year. I am not a total bitch, so I was understanding and I felt bad for him. That, and my headache was so bad that had he called, he would have found out that I was planning to cancel on him.

Now, the very next week, AKA on Friday, I asked him if he wanted to hook up after work after I finished up at happy hour with my co-workers. He'd already told me he had the day off, so I knew he was free. He actually agreed. As I was leaving downtown, I asked if he was cancelling on me, as he had done for the past few times we made plans. He then responded to my accusatory text: "No, I'm coming." And that was the last thing I've heard from him. My fault though. At the end of the day, as I've already said, his actions showed he just wasn't that into me. But, I kept attempting to give him the benefit of the doubt for that month, because he kept saying he was sooooo interested and would be switching to a different schedule, allowing for more availability. But, fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

Given that hot cop and I only went out a grand total of 5 times over the span of 3 months, it's not that big of deal in an individual sense. Hell, I faded him out after the first 2 dates. Dates #3-5 only happened because we had a mutual friend in Jade**. No, the point of this story was for background, in order to give a little lesson to everyone: Standing someone up is never, ever, EVER ok.

It doesn't take a whole lot of common sense* to know that everyone deserves common courtesy. If you decide not to go out with someone, you should tell them (be it a date, a friend, family, anybody!). In this day an age, there is too much available technology to keep someone waiting for more than 15-20 minutes. Anything longer than that requires a call, text, email, carrier pigeon, etc. I mean, really. Even if you're too chicken to actually make that call, you can very easily send a text. "sorry, can't make it today/tonight/this afternoon. something came up." You've still accomplished the blow-off, but you haven't completely wasted the other person's time.

Hey, I understand, sometimes blowing off plans is necessary. Sometimes you don't want to go to the mall. Sometimes, you don't want to endure another boring date. Sometimes you have the worst. headache. ever. For most reasonable people, it's not about the cancellation. We all gotta do it sometimes. It's about the disrespect you've shown by not being able to deign to pick up the damn phone (or carrier pigeon). You are not that special or busy. Show the person you're meeting with that you understand that the world does not, in fact, revolve around you. Just sayin'.

*or a rocket scientist

**Are 3 and 4 even dates? Since the 3 of us were kicking it while she was in town?!

Evidently, I'm psychic...

You know what expression I've grown to hate? "Self-fulfilling prophecy." Do people say this to you? For example:

Me: Damn, my birthday sucked, hard. Top 5 of my worst days of all time.
Them: Well, you were expecting it to be difficult, so maybe it was just a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Internal monologue: Or. It sucked because I spent it alone in my apartment in my rubber duckie pjs.

Me: Whenever I wear this shirt, I always end up with makeup on the collar.
Them: Well, you're expecting to rub makeup off on it, so maybe it was just a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Internal monologue: Or. It has a really tight v-neck and a standing collar without much room to maneuver. Inevitably, whenever I wear it, I forget this fact until after I put it on...also known as too late because I've already slid it down my makeup enhanced natural look.

Me: I've moved to Siberia, and as a result, my social life blows.
Them: Well, you kept saying how far away Siberia was, and how your social life was going to go downhill. Maybe it was just a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Internal monologue: Or. My social life blows because I do not go out as often, because the social scene in Siberia is filled to the brim with hipsters and Siberians...neither of which interest me. And, because the places there are to visit are dive bars. Have you ever seen pheebee in a dive bar, guzzling a beer? No. Because skinny jeans and Kate Spade just don't belong in a dive bar. Neither does bougie. And I? Am all of those things.

Me: Today was just one of those days. People were trying my patience ALL. DAY. LONG.
Them: Well, you always say the people you work with get on your nerves. Maybe today was just a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Internal monologue: Or. People are ace-holes.

Me: That date was terrible. I was so not into him.
Them: Well, you weren't really willing to give that guy a chance, so maybe it was just a self-fulfilling prophecy that the date was bad.
Internal monologue: Or. He was the opposite of my type who asked me to split the check on the first date -- after I wouldn't agree to go to his house to "watch a movie."

Get the idea? This crap makes me want to put on my crazy pants, bunny slippers, and flannel robe, looking all wild-eyed with my hair standing on end, go outside and scream: "No, dammit! It wasn't a self-fulfilling prophecy. I am not psychic!!!!!!!! Did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, I was accurately predicting the outcome of the situation, based on past experience?!?!?!!?"

*Ahem*....I get that if you spend your life looking for things that are wrong, you will find them. If you are seeking out flaws and negative energy, it will come to you. A positive outlook does, in fact, change the way you see things. But it doesn't actually change facts. Fact is, if I look at things through a positive lens, I'm less likely to react in a bad way. If a dude is doing the electric slide on my last nerve, then with a positive outlook, I may just brush him off politely. With a negative outlook, I may cuss him out so hard his grandchildren are born half deaf from the ringing in their ears. Either way, he was tap dancing on my last nerve.

I feel like this "self-fulfilling prophecy" junk is just a way for people to put the onus on you to ignore bad situations. Ignoring them don't make them go away. Life isn't always a beach. Sometimes, life's a bitch -- your outlook determines how you deal with either scene. Sure, it's better to put on the rose colored glasses and pat life on the head like a cute little puppy. But sometimes, you need to take life by the collar and call it out for what it is. Sucky. Acknowledge it, and move on. It's not the observation of suckiness that's the problem -- it's what you do to move around the suck.

But hey, if people keep telling me my observations are self-fulfilling prophecy, then let me go ahead and say this. I will be one chick with happiness abound. I will be making good money, created out of a moguldom of things that I love to do. I will be surrounded by amazing friends that are ride or die, and have a hot and doting husband. I speak that into being...now what? Dare somebody to tell me THAT isn't a self-fulfilling prophecy.*

*Has anyone else ever noticed that only the negative things are self-fulfilling prophesies? NO one ever says that positive things are self-fulfilling. Then all of a sudden you're lucky or in the right place at the right time. You know what? Bite me. If I'm stuck with all these bad things that I made happen, then I want credit for the good ones too.

So worth it!

As we learned in the last post, a good story is always worth the hassle. Well, I tested this theory again earlier this week.

On Tuesday, Astro called me (out of the blue)* and asked me to go with him to a political fundraiser (aka networking event). Given my desire to raise my status as a super connector, I agreed to go.

When we got there, it quickly became apparent that I was going to have to make an adjustment to my strategy. Back when Astro was a "current" rather than an "ex" boyfriend, I'd often be more of a Jackie O rather than a Michelle O**. But, as an ex, I'm no longer obligated to fulfill that role. I'm not saying this is a bad thing, just a matter of course. So, we separate, and he goes off to meet his next investor, and I go off to meet my next sucker, er, client.

As I'm speaking to a woman, there is a guy who is standing a few yards away. He is oh, maybe just under 6 feet tall, has slicked back dark hair; a gray gimlet patterned suit, with a shiny blue tie; a shiny and obvious watch, and a tan. Basically, if someone were to play him in a movie, it'd be Robert De Niro (before he went gray). Oh, except Italian, he was Irish. (We'll get to how I know that in a minute.) So, I'm talking to this lady, and smiling Irish eyes says "wait a second...did she (meaning me) just say she's married?!" Ok. Entertaining, sure. I did like the boldness, that was cool. But, whatevs. The lady and I continue our conversation. Shortly thereafter, smiling Irish eyes says "hey Mrs. Irish Eyes, what would you like to drink?" (Ok, stop. Before you get all excited, we were at an event with an open bar.) The lady I'd been talking to was getting ready to leave, on her way out she says "this is the type of event where you could end up getting married. (sly smile)."

Well, Mr. smiling Irish eyes gets my white wine and hands it to me. I thank him for it, and he pulls me to the bar, and offers me a seat. He says "you're too beautiful to be standing." (Yes really, I'm so not making this up.) We chat for 3 minutes, he tells me he's Irish, and a friend of his walks over. The friend of SIE ask me who I came with and what he does. So I say I came with a friend who is a venture capitalist. Mr. SIE says "my friend and I are venture capitalists. We just put an in-flux of money into the economy whenever we go shopping. I always buy women's clothes and jewelry but I have nothing to do with it."***

Now, this guy is laying it on pretty thick, to the point of being comical. Except, he's being totally serious. Anyway, he goes on to say that if I want to get married, his friend is a rabbi so the friend can marry us upstairs.**** I politely decline the marriage proposal. So, it's time for them to go. Mr. SIE asks for my card, which I hand over. (Like I said, there may be a legit business prospect there, but I can't remember what he said he did. Mainly because I wasn't listening closely enough to retain anything he said). He then reaches in his pocket to hand me his card. And....it's his Amex Platinum. Yes, dear readers. He actually hands me his Amex. Now, we've just taken the evening to a whole new level. I don't even know what the appropriate reaction is at this point.

So, I'm telling this story to my co-workers, and they're all equally horrified. And so I say, well I'll let you know how the date goes. One of the girls says, "wait, what? You're actually going out with this guy?!" So, I look at her dead in the eye: "hell yeah! Either way, I get paid...either a nice dinner OR actual business because the dude has money. Either way it works out for me. And anyway, when a chance like this comes, you always ALWAYS go all in just for the story!"

So, here's hoping the sequel is just as good as the first story. Oh smiling Irish eyes, what else could you possibly bring?



*Side note? You know what really puts a bee in my bonnet? People who don't return messages -- voice OR texts! And, frankly, I'm tired of hearing that he's "busy." As near as I can tell, he just dix around all day on the computer and goes to "meetings" (most assuredly those meetings are with his dealer. If you ask me). Anyway, I don't care how damn busy a person is, unless your last name is preceded by "President of the United States" you are NOT THAT DAMN BUSY. PICK UP YOUR PHONE!!!! Ok, side bar over.

**In other words, a Jackie O is a pretty girl that is seen and not heard (and likely running ish in the background). A Michelle O is ahead of her game, and doin' her own thang (and STILL running ish in the background).

***Yes, really. I'm not making this up!

****Nearly forgot the best part. The event was held at the set of the recently cancelled "Playboy Club." Yup. Just adds a layer of shenanigans, doesn't it?

Think I'm Cute

Yesterday I was having lunch with a great friend of mine, and I was telling him about a couple girls with whom I generally don’t kick it anymore. His first response? “What is with you and girls not liking you?!!?!” Seriously! That’s a direct quote! Mind you, I hadn’t actually given him the full background or story on why I’m not seeing these chicks anymore, and I certainly didn’t say that it had anything to do with something I did. But, given his reaction, I never did get to complete the story…I needed to know who else doesn’t like me.

I love hearing gossip about myself. Usually, I find it hilarious. I love the inaccuracies, the half-truths, and the (mis)perceptions. Sometimes, it’s a learning moment, because I find out that I’m unintentionally giving off a certain vibe. And hearing about it helps me to correct it. (For instance, did you know I was stuck up in law school? Me neither!!). I’m quite certain that part of the reason my feelings aren’t hurt by the gossip and backbiting is because it hasn’t been particularly salacious gossip, nor has my reputation really been marred by the talking and sniping. My heart goes out to people who have had that problem.

My favorite type of comment -- and here’s where I circle back to my friend’s comment -- is that I “think I’m cute.” Apparently, there’s a group of women with whom I spend nanoseconds of time throughout the year, who are convinced that I “think I’m cute.” Here’s my question: why is this an insult? I mean, call me crazy, but aren’t the people who don’t think they’re cute far more annoying? Nothing will ruin a night quicker than being out with your girl, and having to constantly reassure her that the outfit she picked is cute and she looks great, and blah blah blah. Or, the people that constantly fish for compliments? How exhausting is that?!? And yet, these chicks are adamantly opposed to the fact that I don’t do any of these things. And the real kicker? They’re offended because I wear heels. OMG! A short girl who wears heels on a near constant basis! How dare I?!?!

As a really good girlfriend of mine (the designer) says, “of course I think I’m cute. What else would I think? That I’m hideous? Of course not. That would be ridiculous.” And, I’m going to add to that…because I think I’m cute, I’m going to dress myself accordingly. And since I watch What Not to Wear religiously, and pay attention when Clinton & Stacy are talking, I’m also going to know exactly which outfits to choose, to optimize my cuteness. And finally, to raise the level of fabulosity, I’m going to work on the areas I don’t like. Maybe instead of being all offended by how cute I think I am, why don’t you try looking at yourself in the mirror, and calling yourself the fairest of them all? Honestly? Maybe if you didn’t have your face all screwed up in that sourpuss expression, you’d think you were cute too. Just sayin’.

Turns out I have a lot of friends with thoughts on this subject matter. The Sailor/Officer says that people who are insecure are offended by other’s confidence. (Too bad for them.) My Ex used to say “I’m not conceited, I’m convinced.” Pastor Hannah says “with favor come haters.” To all of them I say, rock on. I am loving that I surround myself by an entire group of people who think they’re cute. If you don’t fall into that category, what on earth are you doing in this circle? Get on our level, mkay? Kthxbye.

Think I’m cute indeed. Funny – it probably wouldn’t bother girls nearly as much if their men didn’t agree. (Ok, that was catty. But it made me smile…)

Gym Etiquette or, That's Freakin' Disgusting

As you know, I spend much of my free time at the gym. Mostly because I don't have a life outside of work and the gym. *shrug*. D'ah well. Over the past few days, I have been so offended by the goings ons at my particular workout facility. As a result, I thought it might be time for a lesson in gym etiquette.

First of all, if you are taking a class, don't steal other people's equipment. This morning I went to Muscle Max. (A class, incidentally, which was designed to workout every muscle group you may or may not have known existed. Oww.) Anyway, this class requires a lot of equipment: Stairstepper steps, risers, dumbbells, a mat, barbell and weight plates. In order to be ready for start time, you really need to get there 15 minutes early. Which is what I did this morning. For once, I was actually on time to something! I got my 7.5s, 10s, and 12.5s, a mat, a step and 2 risers, barbell, and 4 weight plates. Unfortunately, not everyone made that decision. A chick, with bottle blonde hair, hunched shoulders, and a sour disposition showed up about 5 minutes before class started. Undoubtedly bitter because she (wrongly) believes I'm dipping in her middle-aged dating pool, she totally bogarted the empty space just behind my general area. For the record, at the time she did it, the class wasn't yet filled. Prior to class starting, I propped my mat up against the nearest wall. Well, when it came time to start using the mats for push-ups, I didn't need one. (Still got tennis elbow). But, I noticed after the push-up sets that my mat was moving. Guess who was moving it? Ms. Housewife, of course. Well, as revenge, I went and got my mat when it was time for whatever the next floor exercise was. First rule of thumb, don't take someone's hard-earned mat just because you were late to class. Clearly you didn't prop it against the wall, so go get your own. Darn Housewife.

The next item up? What goes in the cupholder on the treadmill. Turns out that little plastic well is for water bottles and books (or e-readers, as the case may be). So, yesterday, I jumped on the treadmill, in my unending quest for awesome, getting ready to fire up the 5k. As I finished up my 5k (just over 35 min, thank you), it was time for another 30 minutes of cardio. Given my hard-fought 3.1 miles, I opted for a lazy 30 on the recumbent bike. As I picked up my Kindle to give it a read, I noticed a piece of balled up paste on the end. Wait a minute. Why would someone have paste at the gym? And why would it be balled up? And, come to think of it, it looks like it's been worked.......ewwwwwwwwwwwwww. EWWWWWWWW. Used, chewed up gum does NOT belong in a cupholder on the treadmill!!! And FURTHERMORE, now my workout is interrupted because I have to yank this gum off my Kindle cover and drown my hands in hand sanitizer. Ugh. I'm still gagging at the thought.

Seriously people, let's try to do better. *shudder*

One or Two Good Drills

So, I'm watching the Packers game against the Vikings. We're at home today, and it's been nail biting so far. Not much has happened, it's just incredibly tense to see Benedict Favre return to Lambeau with a shockingly good Vikings.

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Ahem. Sorry, I was interrupted by awesomeness on the field. Hooray GB recovering a Favre turnover!

Anyway, as I was saying, the hype around this game has been huge, of course. But the best part was watching Favre walk out and get booed. And frankly, the booing was deafening. It was amazing. I imagine that had to hurt a little bit from Favre. Terry Bradshaw predicted that there would be more cheering than booing. Favre did spend 16 years in green and gold. Boy was Mr. Bradshaw wrong. Really wrong. I bet it hurt more than a little bit. Can you imagine coming "home" after all these years, after the Super Bowls, record breaking, blah blah blah, and receiving a pail full of venom?

I can't say it isn't what he deserved. Yes, the management in GB took a hardline stance. and they had their reasons. But, we all wished Favre well when he went to the Jets. But, he has just repeatedly thrown salt into the wound over the past year. First, to go to the Vikings. An arch rival!! And then, to not only go there, but to say that it's the best team he's played on. Whoever said that Favre didn't do it for revenge is lying. And by whoever, I mean Favre.

I sure hope they drill him!

Cud chewers

Ok, I admit it. I just don't understand why some people believe it's ok to walk around chewing with their mouth open. I'm in 'bux today, and I just couldn't help myself. I was staring. This girl, a little blonde yuppie girl, enjoying her cinnamon swirl coffee cake. WITH HER MOUTH OPEN. Seriously! It wasn't like a my-nose-is-stuffy kind of chew. It was a I-have-no-home-training kind of chew. I don't understand how she doesn't have TMJ with that super hard chewing.

Equally as bad? The ninja. First of all, he's in flat out denial that he chews with his mouth open. But, he also drinks like he's just spent 15 days in the Sahara Desert. NO beverage is that good. Not a tasty 'bux drink, or an adult beverage, or some magically delicious combination of both.

Oddly, it doesn't bother me at all when people talk with their mouth full. I can only assume that this is a result of my enjoyment of lively dinner conversation. Witty banter is a near impossibility if everyone is sitting about chewing politely.

In other news, I nearly called the Titan this weekend because I really wanted a boy to play with for my birthday. I was successful in resisting the urge, given my incredible disgust for feeding a big-headed man's ego. Hopefully my resolve holds out.

In still other, (more important) news, the Engineer will be making another trip east. Which, of course, means that I have between now and then (10 days) to drop all the weight I gained since he last saw me in San Francisco. Note to self: stop eating tasty and delightful things, and start eating icky healthy things.

Weight Watchers, Schmeight Watchers

Ok, so I was all for setting an attainable weight loss goal. For those of you keeping track, the goal was 2 lbs a month from January to September-ish. I was a gym bunny, right-eating, machine. It's been roughly 6 weeks, and I am SICK of it. I am exhausted, and really tired of the gym. I've managed to skip two scheduled days this week, and still take the usual 1 day off. Normally, I feel horrible about this. All kinds of bad about myself and all that jazz. This time, I don't feel anything but content. It's odd, but it's as though I got really burned out really fast. I'm not sure what that means.

One of my usual motivators was seeing results. And my past few weeks of serious gym bunnyness and weight watchers-ing has been pretty good to me. In fact, it makes me think that my goal is actually attainable. Except, I don't care to bother getting there. I'm wondering if maybe I need to cut down from 5 days to 4 days. On the other hand, I wonder if I cut down to 4 days, if I will eventually excuse myself from going at all?

Oh, as a side note. They say that when you skip breakfast, you actually end up snacking more during the day. Well, I will raise my hand to that one. Today, I intended on eating a protein plate from Starbucks (I know, it's overpriced and I could totally make it myself, but I have yet to remember to purchase the requisite ingredients when I am at the market). Anyway, my friendly local Starbucks was all out. So, I had no granola bar and no protein plate. I spent the rest of my day in search of snacks. Fortunately it was too cold to bother going outside to forage. I can't guarantee that I won't be late-night snacking on some unearned popcorn though!

Travelocity

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm actually tired of travelling. Crazy, huh? I realized this when I was travelling to Boston. I was in Boston for an ABA Conference as part of my plan to take over the world. But, while I was there, I realized that I wasn't in the mood to do much sightseeing. Nor did I want to go to all of the important places that a person goes to when visiting the city. All I wanted to do was lay about in my hotel room. (Of course, I didn't do any of these things).

I finally met up with my friend from college, kd. She took me to all of the important places, like Quincy Market, the Little Italy neighborhood, the Freedom Trail, Boston Public Library, and Trinity Church. (I know I said I'd post pictures here, but I figured you'd rather have a post than wait for me to actually put some pictures up.)

We also had a little adventure attempting to get me some good New England Clam Chowder -- because one does not go to New England and not eat clam chowder. So what happened, you ask? Well, kd. had heard about this resto that had the best. clam chowder. EVER. Unfortunately, when we got there, it was not open for lunch service. Bummer. But, we were told to head two doors down to a different resto, they would have the 2nd best clam chowder. So we walk through the connected hotel (as a side note, you can seriously walk 6 miles and never go outside in Boston. Maybe it was just where I was, but I swear all the buildings were connected). Anyway, as we walk through the hotel, we ask the desk clerk a good place for clam chowder. He both suggests the aforementioned resto next door, and then calls the concierge who makes the same recommendation.

So, we get to the resto, and no clam chowder! It's not even on the menu. So, kd. is about to gnaw her arm off, therefore we decided to go ahead and eat anyway, and save the clam chowder for dinner. I order a tasty and delicious burger, with barbecue sauce on the side. Tasty and delicious right? The waitress raises her eyebrown when I asked for the barbecue sauce. So, I repeat myself, thinking she was confused about the "on the side" portion of my request. No, that ain't it. She says, "we don't carry barbecue sauce." Say, what?! How are you a restaurant and don't have barbecue sauce? I am speechless and confounded at this point. It is here where I am officially done with Boston. Not because of one resto, mind you. But because this is, apparently common! I talk about it for the entire day, and kd. random people on the street, waiters, hotel staff, all agree that this is normal. In fact, instead of outrage the first reaction I got was usually "did they carry ribs?" WHAT?! Please tell me what one has to do with the other? Argh!

Otherwise, Boston was neat. I had fun finally seeing kd. And I always enjoy being in a new city. And I have resumed laying seeds to take over the world. Oh! And the hotel where we stayed was connected to the greatest mall ever. Have you ever seen a stand-alone Jimmy Choo store down the hall from a stand-alone Charles David store? AND Louis Vuitton store? I haven't! It was an awesome mall.

Clash of the Titans

Ok, so before I left for a lesson in history, I was supposed to see the titan. We made plans on Thursday to see each other on Friday. On Friday, he called me on his way to the gym, as usual. He'd gotten off of work early, so I asked him if he was still planning to be ready at 8:30, or if he would be earlier. His response? "Oh, actually, I was planning to watch the Bulls game with D, and so I was thinking about closer to 10:00, 10:30." To which I said, jigga-what?

Let's review the circumstances here. He hadn't seen me in a week. I was going to be out of town for a week. This is the beginning of basketball season. This was a Bulls game against the Cavs. And he's a CELTICS fan. So, basically, I got blown off to watch a non-important, soon-to-be-repeated basketball game with your boy that you see all the time?! Oh h--- naw!

Needless to say, I was really ticked. So, I ignore his text (notice he didn't' call at 830, he texted). Then I ignore his text that came through at 10:30 -- presumably after the game. He finally calls about 15 minutes later, and is all in a tizzy because it's not like me to ignore his text messages. So I tell him I was far too angry to answer his text messages for the aforementioned reasons. So he starts playing the victim, which only serves to make me more angry. He says that D was going through some things, and having problems, and needed a friend, and he was just being a good friend, but he guesses that he "was being punished for being a good friend". So I say, you didn't tell me ANY of this before. All I was told was that he was going to watch a stupid basketball game. Had I known, I may have been more flexible. His response? That he didn't know how bad it was until he got there. This, of course, only served to prove my point that he was only going to watch a basketball game that had no importance.

*Sigh*. He's making it so hard to keep him on the island. I really want to. When he's around, he's an exceptionally nice guy and fun to be around. But I don't know how much longer I can handle his laziness. I keep telling people that I'm not sure it's fair of me to vote him off the island without giving him an opportunity to remedy the situation. And I figure he isn't used to girls wanting more from him than looking pretty and showing up. But, I've always been one to say that it doesn't say Coach on my jacket. I'm pretty sure it still doesn't, but I did just buy a new coat. Maybe it's there...?

Rear Wheel No-Drive

As we all know, I love my car. But, word to the wise, if you live in the snow-belt, don't buy a car in the middle of the summer. (Although I didn't go in completely naive. I asked around about driving a rear-wheel drive car in snow, and was assured that while it's a hassle, rear-wheel drive has come a long way and therefore shouldn't be an issue. HA! Jokes on me).

Yesterday, after hounding my parking landlord (not to be confused with the owner of my condo) he finally did some shoveling. Yeah, you read that right. He actually used a shovel, as opposed to a snowblower. At any rate, I knew my car wouldn't move before the snow in the lot was removed. After he was done, I hopped in my car to go to the grocery store.

And then, my car got stuck in the alley. Awesome. So I wander into my building to get a shovel, and the maintenance guy is standing there. I tell him -- in passing -- that my car was stuck AGAIN. This is the same guy that pushed me out along with a neighbor last time. He offered to come outside and have a look. And then he pushed me out (alone this time). As it turns out, he had a Camaro back in the day, and got rid of it after 3 years because it kept getting stuck, even after having sandbags and such in the car.

Anyway, I was kind of concerned that I wouldn't be able to get back into my parking spot, but there was an impending blizzard and I needed to go to the grocery store. So off I went. I also stopped at Target and enjoyed it immensely. (It's a shame this isn't a shopping post, because I did some visual damage at Target!).

When it came time to get back into my spot, I started praying before I even got to the unplowed alley. And....I got stuck. AGAIN. Fantastic. Even though I'd just purchased a gift card for the maintenance guy in the building, I really REALLY didn't want to impose on him again. Instead, I went to the business on the other side of the fence from my parking spot -- where my parking sticker had been kept. I asked, pleaded really, if someone could please please help me move my car from the middle of the alley. The guy at the front desk cheerfully agreed to help, telling me how the very same thing had happened to him. As he's pushing, a neighbor of mine (totally separate from the two that helped me before Christmas) was driving up, and offered to give me a push. She also offered a story about how she used to have the same problems with her old car, despite having sandbags and the like in her car. She also mentioned that she used to carry kitty litter in her car for traction (I may have to try that). Now, we've got 2 people pushing on my car as its wheels spin 'round and 'round like a top. A third neighbor is walking through the alley and notices all of the huffing and puffing going on. He walks over and says, "hey, need some help?" Proceeds to put his cigarette in his mouth and PUUUUUUUUUUUSH! And voila! I'm in my spot.

Moral of the story? My next car will be a heavy, front-wheel drive or four-wheel drive car. I say now. As much as I love my car that I'm thinking of getting another one when it's time to upgrade.

I seriously think I need to do something for my guardian angels, although I don't know which units the other 2 live in. I was thinking cookies. But then, on the other hand, I was thinking that maybe I should be sensitive to folks' new year's resolutions. At any rate, suggestions anyone?

Get me to the ball on time.

The Green Tie Ball is an event held every year in Chicago. It's a fundraiser to raise money for the Gateway Green project. That's the group in charge of finding people to clean up the highways.

Anyway, I went this year. I've been pretty pumped up about it for a while, because it gave me an awesome excuse to wear the fabulous brown silk dress I found a few years ago. Unfortunately for me, I forgot to bring it back from Milwaukee over Labor Day. I considered having my mom mail it, but I decided I may as well go and get it on Saturday so I could have my hair done fabulously. I picked up a couple riders along the way, namely SiQ and another friend who wanted to hitch a ride. All of this seemed perfectly benign.

Well, that was before the heavens opened up. The rain began on Friday afternoon. And continued through Sunday. Saturday morning began normally enough. My friend met me at my place around 10:15 a.m. We hop onto the freeway, and promptly run into traffic at the normal spot. It's moving at a snail's pace, but it ALWAYS moves at a snails pace. Or so I thought. And then I realized that this snail was nearly dead...and we'd moved at a pace of roughly 6 miles an hour. We were literally in the car about 90 minutes and had barely gotten out of the city. And then we were forced off the freeway due to closure. You read that right. The freeway was CLOSED.

Well, this is the information age. So I call SiQ and ask her to re-route us via the internet. (Especially important since there were no detour signs.) But, just as she was finding a route (of sorts), the next freeway entrance was open. So we get on the freeway, thinking we can make up time. Boy were we wrong. We were forced off the freeway AGAIN. We spent the next 2 hours driving through various suburbs searching for a way to the highway.

As a lucky break, I happened to take a road that ran through the forest preserve. And it happened to run into a street I recognized; which led me to the highway. Meanwhile, it's still raining. I finally get to the SiQ's house, pick her up. Get to the WI state border, no rain and no traffic. GAH. So, I finally get to my destination - 5 HOURS AFTER LEAVING MY APARTMENT.

After all of that, I asked my dad to drop off the dress at the beauty shop. I was seriously freaking out. But, the good news was, the freeway was re-opened. I got back to my apartment within 2 hours of leaving.

The ball was great. The dress fit perfectly (it had better -- after 7 hours of travel I was going to make it fit). I even managed to get us into VIP -- basically, I found 2 pins and scammed 2 other ones from some guy - volunteers. :) Just like last time though, another girl was in my dress in a different color. Unlike last time, she was way skinnier than me. :\