Wednesday, February 25, 2009
As I mentioned in a previous blog, she and I were the ones that created the YaYa hats for both of us, and some of my other friends. And we were the ones that have kept the tradition going. Along with this, a year or so ago, Sam and I started working on a list of things that we wanted to do. Things that we wanted to do either before we got settled down, or just that we wanted to do sometime in our lifetime. Some of them were silly, some of them were more serious. To give y'all a few examples....one of ours was to take a road trip (I think all girls need to do this at least once), and one of mine was to dance in the rain. This is kind of like what I understand a "bucket list" is like...well, sorta.
Now, I am working on a little project for one of my other friends. So here is where I need some advice... Can any of you that read this think of some of the things that y'all would want to do in your lifetime?? As I said, it can be silly stuff, serious stuff, and everything in between. With my friend, I am asking for her to come up with a list, and I am going to give her a few "dares" too. It's hard to come up with a list all at once. So, I would appreciate all the help I can get. Hope to hear from you. Thanks guys!!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
This is what has been up….
After Friday morning, I am absolutely convinced that I am a true nut magnet. Our door has been messed up at work for a few months. It had just gotten to the point where you had to slam it to get it to close when you were coming or going. So, on Friday morning, Mr. John had a “door man” come and fix it. Picture it…I was sitting at my desk minding my own business (around 9:30 a.m., I might add), when the “door man” comes up to me, around my desk and by me and says “He said you could help me with this.” (I still have yet to figure out who in the hell “he” was) Then, he rubs his hands on one side of my neck. I’m talking weirdly caressing my neck. When I pulled a “turtle neck” (as my friend Sam calls it), and pulled away, the man grabbed my hand and held it. Apparently the man was just trying to “warm his hands”…still, has he never heard of sticking them in his pockets? Whatever. I am SOOOOO not a touchy-feely person anyways. I rarely give hugs, so this was definitely weird for me. Plus, maybe it’s just me…but my neck is kind of reserved for the guy in my life (don’t have one right now…but still). Ughhh… the man gave me the heeby-geebies. He had to have been like 4 foot tall at the most, scraggly-looking, and Carrie said he had plumber’s butt when she drove up. WTH? These are the guys I get…the wierdos.
Moving on…I am a HUGE Tyler Perry fan. If you haven’t seen his movies, go out and rent them today. They are hilarious, and always have a good moral. On Friday night, my friend Sam and I loaded up and went to Crystal River to see “Madea Goes to Jail.” We were so excited. We had been waiting for this for a month. We got in the theater a few minutes early and were surprised to find it only about half full. We got our choice at a seat in the back, and we sat there itching with anticipation. As the movie time drew nearer, the theater began to fill up. A few teens came and sat behind us. We didn’t think much of it at first. Then, as the movie started, they began talking….LOUDLY. Throwing popcorn, standing up, moving around, the whole bit. At one point, I about got hit in the head when one of them decided to crawl out of the pew with her friend b/c they had to go to the bathroom. Then, Sam and I really got mad. As the movie was drawing to a close, the main character had this breakthrough. He was talking, and crying, and it would have been a great scene had the morons behind us not been talking. They talked and made fun of him through the whole scene. Sam and I both turned around and looked at them at different points. As we were walking out of the theater, Sam and I had steam billowing out of our ears. We considered paying for tickets to the next showing, just so that we could see it AND hear it. Sam said, as we got to the car, that at one point she had considered pulling out her mace and spraying them with it. But we’re not bitter….and we won’t make an issue of it…..:)
Oh, and before I forget, my little sister got her learner’s permit yesterday (warning: stay off the roads now…haha). I can proudly say that she got her first real driving lesson (with a car) from me. I let her drive my car. The one that I bought brand new 2 years ago, that came with a big red bow on it. Yep, that’s the one. Crazy? Maybe. We went out yesterday and drove up and down our dirt road. Before she got in the driver’s seat, I informed her that Bessie (my car) did not need braces (barbed wire) or to have her shoes (tires) messed up. So what if I personify my car? She really did do a great job. I was so proud. I only had to yell one explicit through the driving lesson. Even then, it was just because her boot got stuck on the accelerator and we went barreling in reverse towards a neighbor’s fence. Side note—boots aren’t the best footwear for new drivers. I can’t believe she’s growing up so fast. Lord, I’m stuck between feeling old, and praying to God she’s a better driver than me. (I’ve only hit 3 parked cars, almost ran my car into a rock pit, hit a steel post, about taken out the play-area-fence at Burger King, and hit about 10 animals.) I’ll post pics from our driving experience when I get around to taking them off of my camera. I’ll keep you posted on how the “Aleta Driving Lessons 101” course is going. We shall see….
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
1. It’s probably a good thing to make sure that the doors to the back of the ambulance are shut before spinning off. A friend of mine actually saw this happen…Thank God no one was on the stretcher (Thankfully, they were on their way to pick someone up…and not actually taking the person to the hospital). Especially considering that the stretcher came close to flying out of the ambulance’s open doors as the driver pulled out onto HWY 129. (Shaking my head…)
2. Instead of hurrying to get a man that is SHAKING uncontrollably into the back of an ambulance, the EMT’s playfully argue about who gets to shave the man’s chest hair (into a smiley face, nonetheless) to check his heart.
3. Sadly, while my dad worked at Itchenetucknee (spelling??), he always swore that if he had an emergency and needed an ambulance, he would die trying to get across to the Gilchrist County line. Why, you ask? Because if they took him to the hospital in Lake City, he said, he was bound to die anyways. (I really wonder how I became the drama queen that I am today ;-)
4. This is really kind of sad. I read this somewhere, and sadly, this was near us. A boy was floating down the river with his grandpa, when the grandpa had a heart attack and stopped breathing. The people around him pulled him out, and began CPR. The first ambulance was called and on its way, the ambulance had a flat tire. The next one that was called in for back-up at least got to the park. Unfortunately, they hadn’t checked the battery to their “shock-you-back-to-life” thing (this being the technical term for it…tee he he). They went to zap him with it, and all it said was “low battery.” This is terrible b/c the man died. But I certainly wouldn’t question that it was just this man’s time to go.
5. It is a shame when people from Cedar Key can make it to the hospital quicker than an ambulance traveling from Trenton to Gainesville. Yes, if the EMT’s get mad at you, you won’t get lights and you won’t go above 45 mph.
The people that are going into the medical profession these days really make me wonder. I’ll get on our police and sheriff departments another night. That’s a whole other can of worms.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Well, another Valentine’s Day has gone by. Thank God. I just want to say that I am thankful that it didn’t fall on a weekday. Even in high school, this was the WORST day to be single. It truly is “Single’s Awareness Day.” I have a new outlook on it now, though. It used to make me depressed b/c I was alone. Now, I just laugh at the idiots running around paying un-Godly amounts for flowers, saying “I love you” even if they don’t mean it, all because the world has become so commercialized. It really has become ridiculous. It seems that girls think that the more their boyfriend/husband buys them on Valentine’s Day is equivalent to how much they love them. Ludicrous I tell you. What is it about this holiday that makes girls go insane? Not that you will care, but here’s my stand on this. I SO have the mindset of a guy. If you want to impress me, buy me something practical…not something that will die in a few days (Btw, I HATE flowers). And heck, it doesn’t even have to be expensive or ON Valentine’s Day. That’s when the rest of the world is telling everyone that they should do it. No, impressive would be when he randomly does something nice b/c he thought of me on a day that is not nationally recognized as “the day of love.” Those are just my thoughts. But, who cares, right?
Anyways, the last two Valentine’s Days have really just been interesting. As you could tell last night, I spent most of the day passing out fliers and just trying to help Mrs. Treba and her family find Krissy. Well, that, and cussing everyone that had ever worked in law enforcement in Levy and Citrus County.
Last year truly was the Valentine’s Day from hell. Let me see if I can give y’all an accurate description. I almost wrecked the night before V-Day b/c 2 pills I had taken interacted negatively (and seriously impaired my driving); I had to go off my allergy meds so that I could take a scratch test (the following week); I got the flu; D. Ray was in the hospital in serious condition; and my great-grandma died. F-U-N, let me tell you. I spent the weekend in-between the couch blowing my nose non-stop, soaking in an oatmeal bath, and calling people (and driving them nuts) trying to find out the latest on D. Ray’s condition. The snot over-floweth, I scratched uncontrollably, and was anxiety-ridden to boot. Not fun. Where we would usually be with the family in the days before the funeral, my mom and I hung around the house as to not contaminate anything. We didn’t even make it to the viewing. Horrible, I know. Even at the funeral, we sat in the very back of the church, hoping not to give anyone the funk. I sat there, miserable, throughout the funeral. I tried not to cough, because if I had ever started, I wouldn’t be able to stop. I tried not to blow my nose, because everyone knows that’s just gross.
Then, it happened. Now, before I go into this, let me tell you that I am one that will laugh at inappropriate things, at inappropriate times, and I just don’t care. I have no control over it (maybe it’s due to my complete lack of self-control?). As my mom and I were sitting there, praying for a quick funeral, Brother Greg got to talking about Granny Lois. He talked about how sweet and good she was. Then he said that she had just been crowned queen of the funeral home. Queen of the funeral home?? What the hell kind of funeral home did they have my granny in? I couldn’t even look at my mom. I immediately dug my fingernails into my hand (to the point of breaking skin). I was holding back the laughter so much it hurt. I nearly snort-snotted on myself. Poor Brother Gregg. We all mess up every once in a while. But that was hilarious. That was the topper to my hellacious 2008 Valentine’s Day/Weekend.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
We sit down in the little cubicle and she breaks out the blood pressure cuff, and it’s the kids one. So, she then tries to detach the kid cuff and put the adult one on. She fiddled, and fiddled, and fiddled. As I am looking at my mom, rolling my eyes, she says “I’m going to have to go get my supervisor for this.” WTH? I’m not one to talk, considering that I have a problem opening child-proof lids, but ummm…shouldn’t you have learned how to do this before clinicals?? After her supervisor came and put the grown-up cuff on (and took my blood pressure), I FINALLY got to see my doctor.
If you will flashback with me to summer 2008, you will find me at CMC once again. I practically lived in there during July of last year. (Bladder infection led to finding out I had Mono, which led to low B12 levels, and gallbladder issues…yeah, it was a busy month…As I’m writing this, I realize that I sound like a little old lady). The day that started everything, I had a nurse usher me to the back and try to weigh me. I told her I didn’t want to be weighed. She told me that she had to weigh me. Oh, well, in deciding that this might not be the battle I wanted to fight, I hopped on the scales. To give y’all a visual, it was a busy day, and there were patients lined up behind me. The nurse then yells my weight down the hallway as if she’s yelling bingo numbers. At this point, I have steam billowing out of my ears. I turned to her (she’s smirking…like she just did something funny), I raised my eyebrows, and I said “why did you just do that?” She replied, still with the smirk, “I just thought that you’d want to know.” I looked her dead in the eyes and said “Ummm…considering I just said that I didn’t want to be weighed, what would give you that impression?” (Did I mention I had raised my voice a little…and it was causing some attention…oops :) She looked down and said sorry. I said “Dern right you’re sorry. You’re fixin’ to be.” OOOh, y’all, I was some kind of mad. From there, I reported her to the doctor that she was working for that day. Then, I called and reported her to the woman in charge of HIPPA violations. –Never mess with a mad, b****y, chunky girl…they will get you back SO much worse. This is why the nurses at CMC know me, and don’t push me into things (such as weighing…unless I want to) anymore. But I digress….
In this same visit, I tell the doctor all of my symptoms (bladder infection, fatigue). She then asks me if I’m pregnant. I answer with a firm “NO!” Well, she sends me back for tests to see if I might have a bladder infection, and I have blood work to see if I have mono. As I’m having my blood work done, the lab girl tells me to go and wait in the waiting room for the results of my pregnancy test. WTH??????? (I thought I had answered this already…). Can we say uncomfortable? I had to go and sit in the waiting room for what felt like an eternity waiting on test results that I knew were going to come back negative. (As a side note—For those of you who know me well, you know that I’m a bit paranoid and I over think things WAY too much. Although through most of the wait I was thinking “I don’t see a donkey, wise men, or a manger in my near future” I will say that I did have a few paranoid thoughts. For about a minute, I seriously contemplated alternative methods that could result in pregnancy. Which brought me to the thoughts, “If I were to have gotten pregnant that way, how the HELL would I know who the daddy was? And can you ‘catch’ that from the dreaded toilet seat?”) Finally, after like 15 minutes, the woman comes back and tells me “You’re not pregnant.” To which I replied “Yeah, no crap.” (Ok…maybe a little sigh of relief for all of my paranoid thoughts).
As soon as I hit the doors, I called my mom and said “Well, Mom, you’re not going to be a grandma.” She was like “WHAT?? Was there a question?” I said, “Nope. But they tested me anyway. You’d have thought that I would know if I were getting any.”
I once had to see a Gastro specialist (b/c of the gall bladder). After sitting down with him for 20 minutes, he told me that I needed to cut back on my ice cream in-take (I’m more of a sugar-free popsicle girl, myself) or I would need a liver transplant. Not sure exactly how we went from my gall bladder to me having liver failure. As always, I needed to lose weight, and that would solve everything from brain tumors to in-grown toenails, poverty in third-world countries to the Iraqi war. So, after I try to tell him that I had lost some weight (15 lbs at that point. I've gained it all back now, unfortunately). He responds by saying that he's lost over 100 lbs in his lifetime, but that didn't mean he could keep it off. Ok. So what are you saying then?? I need to lose weight, but if I do, it might not mean much?
Yes, I don’t like doctor’s visits. And I’m sure the nurses there don’t like me either. I'm telling you, I'm on SEVERAL B**** lists.
To end this, I will add the list of “Things Aleta hates about doctor’s visits.”
“Things Aleta hates about doctor’s visits”
1. BEING WEIGHED!!!!
2. It doesn’t matter if you go in there for a hang nail, they will ask you when your last period was.
3. Any ailment can be solved by weight loss. Your weight is the cause of any and every ailment (including the hang nails).
4. It smells funny.
5. Even if you go to the doctor and you’re not sick (like for a check-up or something) you WILL be after sitting in the waiting room for five minutes.
My dad thought that I should have went into the medical field. I think not.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
When she called FedEx frantically trying to find out if it had been sent, the secretary said that it had been delivered today. However, it hadn’t been delivered to THEIR house, and the FedEx people aren’t entirely sure where they left it. Mind you, he’s leaving TOMORROW AT NOON!!!! Insane? I think so. When they asked if she lived in a mobile home and she answered “no,” she knew they had messed this whole thing up. The secretary then informed Mrs. Pegi that “The driver was already home, and he had had a long day delivering to Chiefland, Trenton, and Gainesville. All that he could tell her was that he dropped the package off at a mobile home that no one was at, and had left it on the back porch. It was on her street number.” (Had this been me on the phone with this nut, I’m sure that I would not have been as nice as Mrs. Pegi was. Come on, don’t give me the ‘Poor FedEx man’ crap. It’s his job.).
Mrs. Pegi called me with this news. She had looked down her road, and was now wondering where the NW version of that street number was. It just so happened to be near my house. So we took off in search of Brett’s package. Now, I’m sure that there were a few houses where we trespassed a little. And I’m quite sure that the cops were called on us. I had one woman, as I walked up to her door, look at me (as I’m explaining about Brett’s package) as if I were going to pull a “spot and steal.” To our dismay, we still haven’t located the package at the point I’m writing this. Brett’s still awaiting a call from a FedEx manager. If you asked my dad though, that delivery man would either be cussed out, or fired. What the heck?
--sidenote—this is yet another example why it is not good to order things off line that could possibly be a bit embarrassing. Things like this happen every day. It’s just today, it’s more important than normal.—
On a completely different note, I am a little blue today. I think I just had everything hit me at once again. Sometimes I feel like too much compassion can be a bad thing. I know you’re probably wondering “what??” But I think that when you have compassion for people, and you have such high hopes for them, they can let you down. Even though I do act tough, my heart breaks really easy. I know that I’m not God. Some days I really do fight with the fact that I can’t fix everything. I’m not in control. I just pray that He will get ahold of this person’s life and change them. It’s very hard to see someone (or hear about someone) that you care about going in a downward spiral. I just want him to be ok again. That’s just not normal behavior, I don’t care who you are. I’ve racked my brain…and there’s nothing I can do…and it breaks my heart.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Tonight I am filled with both worry and pride. I had my friend and second mom, Mrs. Pegi, text me today (around 3 p.m.) and tell me her son, Brett (also a close friend of mine), had just found out that he would be leaving tomorrow or Wednesday for Iraq. So much for having a week to pack and say your goodbyes, right? So immediately, I began to worry. I think it’s just honestly part of my nature.
As worried as I am, I have to say that my heart is filled with pride for Brett. He is really an amazing person. We grew up together, and I have seen him grow into a remarkable man. I know that I am not alone in saying how proud of him I am. He is going over to Iraq under contract this time, and I pray, and hope that you will join me, for his safe return. Both he and his family mean the world to me and my family.
To lighten MY mood tonight, I will tell y’all some funny stories about my family and the Hanchey’s. When Brett and I were little, we were in Bible Drills. A few years, we went to State Bible Drills down in Apopka. Mrs. Pegi never has been one to give directions. Well, let me clarify…it’s never good to get directions from her. My dad was the one driving us down to Apopka (so it was already taking twice as long, anyways), and he was following the directions that Mrs. Pegi had given him. What was sad, was the fact that at one point, they had been 17 miles from Apopka, but had followed Mrs. Pegi’s directions…which led them astray. Somehow, we wound up across the state (near Daytona) and South. Her sense of direction never ceases to amaze me! :)
I always try to find something funny in every situation (especially the bad) because laughter is the best medicine for me. Well, while we were at Brandon Thorsen’s funeral (which was completely one of the saddest things that I have EVER been to), I was sitting with Mrs. Pegi and her family. About halfway through the funeral, through tear-filled eyes, I notice the VERY hairy man sitting in front of me. I’d have known that scraggly-lookin’ man anywhere. I’m not mockin’ the man. He really does look like he belongs in the mountains, sitting on a front porch, with bare feet and a spittoon. Can we say “moon-shiner?” The first thing that I thought was “Oh, hell, I hope he doesn’t notice me.” To give y’all a bit of a background, I’ve had to deal with this man at work. He does wonderful things for veterans, but he is as backwoods as they come. And the man can cry at the drop of a hat. Have I mentioned that I don’t deal well with men crying?? Anyways, I was afraid he’d recognize me, and hit me up for getting something in the paper for him...or cry to me again. Come to find out, Mrs. Pegi had an equally strange encounter with him as well and she was thinking the same exact thing.
My mom just reminded me of the parade incident. That is actually where the picture above was taken. Brett was asked to be the Grand Marshall of the Trenton 2007 Veteran’s Day Parade because he was home on leave. I had previously planned a trip to Carrabelle that weekend, so of course, as soon as I heard about this, I had to change the plans. So there we all were, the Hancheys and the Sheffields, waiting with cameras in hand to see Brett leading the parade. As the line up approached, Brett was nowhere to be seen. We all stood there wondering if he would be marching or riding atop a car. As the first cop car drove past us, we saw the passenger waving to us. Brett was tucked away in the tinted-window cop car, and we were on the opposite side of the road. They didn’t so much as slow down, so we could snap a few pictures. So much for the great photo-op. Needless to say, this picture was taken after the parade.
Yes, when the Sheffields count our many blessings, we are all thankful for our friendship with the Hancheys over the years. They have always kept us laughing. Whether it be bible drills, moonshiners, Grand Marshall drive-bys, the redneck snake-killing, or the unfortunate events leading up to the 2008 Wild Hog Canoe race, we always have a good time with them.
I pray that the next year will pass by quickly, and Brett will return safely. I hope that y’all will also put him and his family in your prayers.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
There are also some commercials that I roll my eyes at every time they come on. Can we say Geico? Whether it be the cavemen, the money with eyes, or that dreadful gecko, I always hate their commercials. By the time they finally took the stupid cavemen off, I swear, I was ready to chase after the head Geico Advertising man with a club. One night, as my mom and I were sitting down to watch a Lifetime Christmas movie, a commercial for gaysugardaddy.com came on. My mom just looked at me and shook her head. I swear, it went something like this: “Are you a middle-aged professional man, looking for someone to love and support? Or are you a hot young man, looking for someone to support you? If so, try gaysugardaddy.com.” What.The.Hell????? And along those same lines, there is now a commercial for a booty call hotline or bootycall.com or something. It’s insane. What’s the world coming to? I know I shouldn’t say this…but oh, well. Frankly, if you’re looking that hard for all that, you might try supporting your local hookers. At least you would know where to search for them if you got the funk later. My goodness. It’s crazy, I tell you. (rolling my eyes).
I am also a big fan of snazzy names and slogans. My sister came home from the State Fair yesterday, and said that she had seen a cool brand name on the huge fans that they have there. The name of the company that put out these fans was “Big Ass Fans.” Catchy and to-the-point? I think so. Also, as I was in a public bathroom one day, I noticed the name on the stall was “Hiney Hiders.” Y’all, if I hadn’t already been in a bathroom, I probably would’ve peed on myself laughing. It’s so simple, but so smart. I loved it. And while my mom and I were driving somewhere the other day, I forget now where, we saw a sign for “Big John’s Johns” which sold porta-pottys.
I, too, have come up with a few names. I’ve decided that if I ever had a store (don’t know what I would sell…so I don’t see this as a future endeavor) I would name it “Big Mama’s Hole in the wall.” And when I was a teenager, I once told my friends that if we ever started a band (once again, this would NEVER happen, b/c I don’t have a lick of rhythm) we should be “The Big Midgets.” Due to the fact that we were all so short.
Yes, I do love some good advertising. If y’all can think of any of your favorite commercials or slogans, post a comment with them.
Friday, February 6, 2009
#1. You want to be my friend again?? What brought on this change of heart? I hate to think that you have ulterior motives, but I do question your sincerity. I know that we shouldn’t dredge up the past, but I just think that we’re “toxic” for each other. We both said horrible things, and although it’s been forgiven, it’s not as easily forgotten. I never want to get to that place again. So, I will attempt this friendship, but I’m definitely going to keep myself guarded. And there are some boundaries that you can’t cross anymore. Don’t talk about the people I care about.
#2. You have a problem. Get help. AA and NA would do you nicely. You’re hurting everyone that loves you.
#3. I am thankful everyday for our friendship. I just want you to be happy, in whatever you choose. Everything happens for a reason. Life shouldn’t be mediocre. We only have one life to live.
#4. If you hadn’t really cared, you wouldn’t have tried calling and texting me since then. You need to figure out your priorities in life. Did you choose what YOU really wanted or were you just trying to appease other people? At some point you need to grow up and be your own person. You felt it too, so stop pulling the innocent act and blaming me for everything. You said things to me and threw out invitations all willy-nilly. I wasn’t guilty in that alone. I lost friends because of you and you hurt me, a lot. And the strangest thing about all of this is that I still care. WTH?
#5. You are a beautiful person, and those that don’t see that are truly missing out. I wish you wouldn’t be so hung up on how the world views “beauty.”
#6. Stop being so fake. I wonder what you say when I’m not around.
#7. You are insane. Stop prying into other people’s lives and work on your own.
#8. You deserve much better than this. Why do you keep falling for the same old line, every time?
#9. I’m not a crazy person. Not everyone is like your group of friends. I think you need more stable ones. That’s what I was trying to be. I want better for you. You can do better than that. You’re just trying to fill a void, and this isn’t a good way to do it. I wish you could see your worth.
#10. Don’t criticize what you don’t understand. When you walk a mile in my shoes…then, you can talk. Until then, shut your mouth.
Whew. I feel better.
Y’all try it….
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
I cannot express how excited I will be when that final day comes, in May, and I can finally do the Praise-the-Lord,-I’m-through-with-college dance. And if I play my cards right this semester, I may actually graduate with a really high GPA. I don’t want to fill you in just yet…for fear I might jinx myself. Oh, and don’t get too impressed…my major is Psychology. My chunky butt has been drug through the ringer for the past FIVE years for degree that practically means nothing. Yeah, I have worked my butt off for NOTHING! (Please don’t let anyone you love get a Psych degree….it doesn’t mean a whole lot when you finally do get the degree…and you have to deal with a bunch of wack-a-dos while trying to obtain it. It just isn’t worth it.)
The one thing that I can say is, this experience has left me with quite a few memories. Some experiences were rewarding and some…well, …were just bizarre. I think that every college student deals with this…but with me being a psych major, I think that it was worsened.
One of my favorite teachers ever, was a spacey, older gentleman. He had worked as a psychologist in prisons, with attorneys examining a criminal before their trial, and also with children. Yeah, he had been around the block a few times. With all of the experiences he had under his belt, he was bound and determined for us to have some experiences while in his class, as well. One of these “experiences” that he desired for us, had me finding my local AA meeting one night for a lesson on group therapy. Now, before I get into this, nothing I tell of will reveal what all went on in the meeting...so don’t go thinkin’ I’m fixin’ to gossip about our local alcoholics. Because one, I didn’t wind up with the alcoholics, two, I was sworn to secrecy, and three, because I couldn’t really fathom all that I was taking part in . Well, to give y’all a bit of a visual on how utterly out of place I was…I had a tag on the front of my car that said “Milk sucks…got margaritas?” the night I drove up to the AA meeting. And could I park in a parking lot in front of the building so no one would see my tag?….nope. I had to park right in front of the doors, where everyone was having a smoke break before the session began. I should have thrown my car in reverse at this point and headed back to my house, b/c when I pulled up I had people pointing their fingers at my car and laughing… Oh, yeah, it only got worse. When I got out of my car, I had some of the AA participants tell me that they loved my tag, and that I was at the right place. I didn’t know what to say, so I just smiled and nodded. When I went inside the building, I somehow got separated from my cheerful alcoholics and got stuck with the Al-anon crew. The woman that was heading it up asked my name, and asked if I knew that I was in the Al-anon side. I shook my head and said “well, he said I could either go to AA, Al-anon, of NA.” (Really, looking back, I should’ve been more clear on who “he” was.) Her reply to me was “Well, honey, was it court mandated that you come? Because if so, you need to go to the other side.” O.M.G. So, I’m turning red at this point, b/c I’m a little embarrassed. After I straighten out the fact that it’s not court mandated that I attend, the woman then asks me if I had anyone close to me that was an alcoholic. I told her no, b/c I couldn’t think of anyone at that time…now, sadly I can name several. If y’all could have seen the look that woman gave me. For some reason, me not being able to think of someone, somehow made me look like a hoity-toity snob to her. Like I was looking down on the hardships she had had. What’s worse, is that by this point, others were coming in, so I was getting the stink-eye from more than just her. Uncomfortable. I just wanted to scream “I’m only here to observe…just don’t ask me anymore questions!” Then, as the session began…a girl (from the AA side—who was late) comes busting in the room saying (loudly) “Who’s blue car is that outside? Great tag. If you hadn’t been here though, I would have written a note saying ‘get you’re a$$ to AA’ and left it on your windshield.” So, then, every person in the room with me is giving me the stink-eye b/c I’m not taking this experience seriously. By the end of the night, I was desperately wishing that I had just went over to the AA side. Those were my kind of people. My observation of the night…group therapy is not for me (unless it’s anger management).
Well, I got in this teacher’s class again. And he again wanted us to go to 2 AA meetings and write a report. So, b/c I had very little faith that he actually read the first paper I had wrote, I just re-submitted it. Then, I fibbed a bit (Ok, a lot) on the other one. I don’t know what’s worse…having to go to AA or lying and saying that you went to AA when you didn’t. Hmmm…
The other trip that I had to make for a class was to go to Catholic Mass. My friend KW was supposed to go with me, but she was running late, so I just walked in and sat down. Before I knew it, Mass had started, and KW was nowhere to be seen. I didn’t think much about it.
Throughout the service, I learned that you have to have really good knees to be a Catholic. Kneeling to pray for long periods of time nearly had me rolling on the floor clutching my knee.
Towards the end of the service, they were taking communion. Well, me being the Baptist girl in the back, I didn’t want to partake (I thought I had heard somewhere that if you weren’t Catholic, you couldn’t partake of their communion…plus I didn’t know how to do that little sign thing that they do). Well, I tried to make a quick, unnoticeable exit. That failed. As I went towards the side door, against the traffic going to get communion, I hit the door with full force. Only to bounce back, because it was locked. –At this point, I had people staring--So, then, I tried to escape out the back. I had to skip by a man that was motioning for me to go towards the front. When I walked through the back doors, there sat all the Asians. Maybe the Asians are the equivalent of our back seat Baptists (which I am proudly a part of), b/c that’s mainly who was sitting in the back room. This was also where KW was. She had somehow walked in and been ushered to sit with the Asians. All of which is odd.
I guess Mass was a rewarding experience. In learning about a different denomination, I also learned to check door handles before you hit the door with full force.
Yes, College is crazy. Thank goodness my experience is coming to a close :)
BTW, I think I've got the funk....the flu...or something. I swear, I didn't feel the slightest bit sick until after I ate dinner. Now, the snot supply won't end...and I feel like I'm hacking up a lung. WTH? UGGGHHHH! Will it never end?? I blame the girl at the Crack Shack. Oh, I am SO making a voodoo doll with her name ALL over it!!!
Monday, February 2, 2009
Ok, so today didn’t start off ALL that bad. I ran late for work yet again. (Thank goodness I have a job that gives me some leeway.) Then, I had to go wait in line at the post office. Honestly, though, that happens every time I go to the Trenton Post Office. I end up waiting in line for about 30 minutes, all for the sake of more personal “customer service.” I’m tellin’ you, if a machine would spit out the right sized box I needed, and would give me a damn stamp for the package, I would SO give up the personal customer service. All in all, the morning wasn’t all that bad because it rained. Maybe I’m odd, but I love rainy days. (However, I would have liked to have spent the day in my pajamas watching That 70s Show and eating popsicles.) But around lunch, all of that changed…
I had left my lunch at home, in my haste to get out of my house with everything to go into the packages that I needed to send. So, I was just going to make it easy on myself and just call an order in at the Cracker Box (which I lovingly refer to as the “Crack House” or “Crack Shack.” As a side story, the crabby waitress that works in there once answered the phone “Crack House. How can I help you?” The name sort of stuck)—This place has the best chicken strips in the world. Well, Lord, I didn’t know what a fiasco it was going to be. I called the number, and told the girl that I wanted to place an order. She then said “Can you wait a minute?” I said sure. I didn’t think anything about it…it’s a pretty busy place most days. I waited…and waited…and waited (Have I mentioned that I have NO patience whatsoever?). All the time, hearing everything that was going on in the background…b/c the girl didn’t know how to press hold. I swear, I was on hold for 10 minutes. Then I hear her just laughing with people and yelling “Oh, bring me a piece of cake when you come back!” It was then that I realized that she had completely forgotten I was on hold. If you’re wondering why I didn’t just hang up and call again…it’s because when they do this, their phone will then be busy for 30 minutes, b/c no one ever checks it. So, I stayed on hold, and I walked over to the restaurant, in the pouring rain without an umbrella, through mud, with every intention of letting the phone-answering girl have it. Have I mentioned that this isn’t the first time that this has happened to me or my coworkers? Sadly, it’s like the fifth time…
When I walk in the restaurant, the place is only half full. And the girl that is supposed to be taking my order is just standing around talking to a bunch of the waitresses. I couldn’t help myself from rolling my eyes. I near about threw my soggy shoes at her. And when I got up to the counter, I said (with a very witchy tone and giving the death glare) “You might want to hang your phone up. I’m the one that you put on hold…ten minutes ago.” She just looks up at me, with a ‘tude nonetheless, and says “Well, can I take your order?” O.M.G. I just about had another case of C.A. y’all. I know that I’m a witch to a lot of people, and I’m very prone to throw a tantrum, but I at least TRY to be nice to customers. Apparently she didn’t take the Ryan Weaver course called "Being Polite to Customers 101" that I did. Anyways, I place my order…then, I have to walk back in the pouring rain, through the mud, cursing her with every step. And 15 minutes later, I had to walk back and forth again. I was not a happy camper. If I get pneumonia, I am SO sending her my medical bills. Plus, I had to walk around in soggy shoes the rest of the day that made slurping noises everytime I moved. And those were my favorite pair of shoes. :( She’s on “Aleta voo-doo doll list” right now.
In other news…I read the stupidest accident report today. Thankfully, this didn’t happen in our area. What a bunch of D.A.s! According to the report a 61 year-old man and a 20 year-old woman were arrested for their road rage/accident. Apparently, one of them tried to pass the other one or something on the itnerstate, and BOTH of them pulled out handguns and started shooting at each other. The old man fired 4 shots, and the girl fired 3. WTH? Has someone been peeing in the gene pool again? I swear. After the little accident Steph and I were involved in on the interstate, I would be driving SUPER careful if I was on the interstate. I wouldn’t even attempt to reach down to find my handgun, much less shoot at the person while going 70-80 mph. BTW, no one was hurt.
Hey speaking of guns…My dad doesn’t see my need for a gun and he also thinks I’m a little too feisty to have one. So, I’m thinking of getting a tazer. You know, now you can get them in pink, blue and silver. Haha. Seriously, though. Any thoughts? ;-)