des and Jay as drug traffickers

So I have many exciting stories and photos from my Southern road trip, but I have to start with an incident that happened just a few short hours from home because it's the most interesting. Btw Ohio, I hate your state.

The last leg of our trip: Louisville, KY to home. I'm the one doing the driving for this part, because Jay has done 75% of the trip driving. (I also drove from Savannah, GA to Raleigh, NC but that's it.) We stop at Taco Bell for what was among the worst food ever. I can say this with some authority because earlier in the trip we stopped at a different TB which had the best food ever, and I'll go into that later. But anyway as an example of the badness, my 7-layer burrito was layered horizontally instead of vertically. This means eating the burrito meant that I would get a few bites of pure lettuce, and then a few bites of pure sour cream, and then a few bites of pure guacamole, and then a few bites of pure beans. You fellow 7-layer-lovers out there know why I was unhappy.

Why the TB tangent? It's relevant, I swear. It becomes so in the part of the story when I am still driving, and without touching my eye, I suddenly got hot sauce in it. This is the only logical explanation, as my eye felt like it was on fire. Just my right side was gushing tears and burning like nobody's business, making it incredibly difficult to see. I've learned that being able to see is an important aspect of driving on the highway. Since my eye was on fire and I couldn't do anything about it, I (somehow) managed to pull off the highway. Jay got me some eye drops and a tshirt to wipe my eyes, and he took over the driving duties.

Just minutes after re-beginning the trip, a black sheriff's car rolls up behind us. Jay admits he was going a tiny bit over the speed limit, like maybe 5mph, so we shouldn't be getting pulled over. And in fact we aren't - right away, that is. The sheriff stays directly behind us as we change lanes a coupla times, and after about 5 kinda stress filled minutes, the lights go on and we make it to the side of the road. The sheriff walks up to the window and explains that we were speeding and blah blah blah. Then he asks for my license, because I'm the passenger (?) and tells us he's not going to cite us for speeding. But he still wants to run our licenses. Okey dokey, officer. Neither of us have anything to hide.

While he's taking his sweet time making sure we are not felons, another sheriff's car pulls up behind. Does this really require 2 patrol cars, Officer? They confer for a bit and the new sheriff walks up and asks Jay to step out of the car. Um, heart skip a beat, anyone? I send them telepathic messages that they aren't allowed to take my boyfriend away because I need him to get me home. Oh and also he hasn't done anything wrong. They are chatting behind our car, and even with both windows rolled down I can only catch snippets of the convo. Stupid loud highway right next to us, with traffic slowing down to watch the spectacle. But I hear noise noise Florida plates noise noise Michigan driver noise noise California passenger.

This might be a good time to divert and say that in my almost 2 months of living in MI I have not yet gotten a new license. Also, in the 2+ years I lived in NY I renewed my license by mail. So yeah, I still have a CA driver's license. And? The reason we went on this trip in the first place is to pick up the car that Jay just bought from his mom's neighbor. In Florida. Tada! Florida plates, Michigan driver, California passenger. Getting pulled over in Ohio.

So I keep straining to hear why 2 sheriffs are talking to my boyfriend on the side of a OH freeway. I hear them wrapping up, and one guy says he's gonna come talk to me. He approaches all uniformed and intimidating, and introduces himself as Deputy Somebody from the Drug Something. Drugs? Oh. We are clearly drug runners, which is apparently a very big fear in OH, especially when them foreigners come around. You know, anyone not from Ohio. He didn't spell all this out in such a simple way, but he did make it known that our cosmopolitanism is a "good" cover for drug trafficking. So he asked for my story to see if it matched up with Jay's. Of course it did, because us innocent folks just tell the truth. That whole "driving up from FL" thing that we did.

Then we had a conversation like this:
Anything we should know about in the car?
No.
Any illegal narcotics?
Definitely not.
Any weapons or firearms?
Definitely not.
Any large amounts of currency?
(This is the part when I couldn't help myself from laughing.) I wish we had large amounts of currency!
Well, you'd be surprised. Some people....
No, we bought this car for $300. We don't have any money at all. But if you need to, you can search through our stuff.

He asked me to open my backpack, which I did no problem. Opening the front pocket, I showed him the empty ibuprofen bottle and the nearly empty tylenol bottle. He waved them away and told me I can keep them. He didn't even have me open them or show him any details of my backpack. In some strange stroke of luck, he does not see the eye drops that I was using just minutes before. That would have raised some issues, methinks. He tells me that Jay has already consented to a search (which is a tiny fib on his part) and I nod because I have no problem with that. We aint got no drugs, no guns and no cash.

Sheriff goes back to talk to Jay, and they open the trunk. There is lots of poking around and sniffing, which makes me laugh because the trunk is very full (for reasons that I will go into in another story about this trip). I get my ID back, Jay gets back in the car after being told that he was only going 3-4 mph over the limit (hence the no ticket getting), and we go on our way. The only thing lost is 20 or so minutes, but we got a heck of a good story out of it. (Maybe if Jay is feeling rambunctious, he'll tell his side of the story which is slightly different than mine.)

So ha ha, they didn't catch us. Let the methtivities begin!

Self Esteem Sunday

I don't really need a self esteem boost. I mean, I'm already totally vain. (And that's helped when my boyfriend tells me how pretty / sexy / smart / awesome I am.) But yesterday I got a few.

Remember the male waitress? Well we went back to the brewery for lunch, and Male Waitress was there. He talked to us, and found a way to touch my shoulder. It was relatively innocent, which is why Jay didn't have to give a beatdown, but still a little annoying because I don't like being touched by strangers.

Then later we were in the parking lot fixing the DirtyBird, and Male Waitress came out with a young lady that was probably his girlfriend. He kept throwing glances at me, but I was very careful to not make eye contact. Then as they were kissing goodbye, I got a glance. That's right, he looked at me while kissing his girl. I ran away and hid next to Jay, who was too involved in making sure his car would run to notice. I told him about it and we all agreed it was very creepy.

So I went about the rest of my day with only a minimal amount of teasing from the gang. When I checked my sitemeter, someone had found this blog with this sentence:
"pictures of pretty women with super short hair"

Now, I realize that I haven't posted any pictures of myself recently, but I did just get my hair cut short a few days ago. Anyway, I choose to read it as a compliment to me. Because I'm vain like that.



ps - stay tuned tomorrow for adventures at the zoo.

adventures in work related partying

So the store holiday party was Monday. Ours was the best company-wide because we have 2 Brooklyn stores, a Manhattan store, and the corporate office. Other locations only have one other store to hang with, and Chicago is all by it's lonesome. So we had the most fun. AND the head honchos said that my store had the awesomest crew. I'm not sure, but I think that's the word they used.

We were seated at very crowded tables, which upset me because I didn't like the guy who was wedged in next to me whom I met for the first time that night. Also, all the food was family style, so I had to grab what vegetarian options came by when they did cuz I didn't know what else I'd be able to eat. (ps, butternut squash ravioli? to die for.) Also, they did that magic wine glass refilling thing. I loves me some Pinot Grigio.

They played some games, none of which I won because they asked me a stupid question. WTF do I know about how many blue vinyls are on the walls of my store? I'm too busy selling stuff, remember? Yeah I'm still bitter. We did the gift exchange. I ended up getting my guy a gift certificate to the restaurant / bar next door. Then I had to brag about how that was the first GC ever given out by that place. I had to make a special appointment to talk to the owner and everything! He totally loved it. I received an excuse to fuel my muffin addiction from the bakery across the street that closes by 2 every day. Everyone loves everything.

So after the formal party, a bunch of us crazy kids decided to go to another bar. It was early yet, and I didn't have to be at work until late. The other people? Well they had no excuse. The night went by in a blur. We switched bars one more time and lost some people along the way until only 4 of us hardcores remained. There was loud hip hop music, dancing was involved, and at some point we gathered our things (miraculously still intact) and left. Another member of the posse had wandered away, so the remaining 3 of us took the train back home. At my stop, I bid them goodnight and promised to see them in a coupla hours. They had to opening the store in 5 hours.

I got home just before 5am and fell into bed. My phone died during the night, but my wine-addled brain reasoned that I didn't need it on because I didn't work until 1, so there was no need for an alarm. Well, I was right. I did wake up in time. 12:15, to be exact. I leave my house at 12:30. That gave me just enough time to gulp down 3 glasses of water (mmm dehydration) throw on some jeans and a sweatshirt, brush my teeth, and run out the door.

When I walked in, my fellow partiers from the night before did not look so enthused. But I am super and a rockstar, so I made it known that I was perfectly fine and not hungover at all and bouncing off the walls like my normal self. I'm glad they didn't hate me for it.

And that friends, is just one of the reasons I love my job.



ps - someone found my blog by googling "the least awesome thing ever" which kinda makes me frown. But I'm glad people are using my terms.

so... bored....

What did you do at work today? Anything? That's more than I did. I did absolutely nothing. Less than normal, even. And it's not just because my little protege and I are so awesome, either. Nobody in the entire building has any work to do. I knew summer was our slow time, but this is ridiculous.

The shop guys sacrificed a half day's pay and went home at noon. Everyone in the office wanders around to talk to each other, having impeccably cleaned and organized their entire workspace. When the phone rings, people jump across desks to answer it. I so wish I was lying. I left work 1&1/2 hours early today because of the time I was there, 1/2 hour was lunch, and about 5 hours were just me reading my book* while my trainee took a nap. I stuck it out as long as I could, but at 3:30 I decided that I would rather forsake the $15 I would get on my check for an early gym time and more time at home. There was nothing to do (I'm talking tumbleweeds, here) and even if something did come along, New Girl could handle it no problemo.



* I've decided that I don't like the genre of "historical-mystery-thriller." You know, there's an ancient document or work of art, and someone discovers that it has a secret, and as he pursues it people die until he loses and the mystery remains unsolved forever. Very much a la the DaVinci Code, which I haven't yet read - though it was included in the pile of free books I got from my friend. Incidentally, The Rule of Four, which is what set me off on this little rant, was in that same pile.
Anyway, I just don't like how things work out so perfectly. "Oh here's a clue in this well-known document. But I can't quite figure it out. I'll ask my girlfriend. She knows the answer, and I just happen to have a map or something equally random that will help me solve the mystery once and for all!" So yeah.



ps - someone started a blog for betting on sports and randomly finds things (other blogs?) by typing stuff in google and then his blog is the result. For instance, he found my birthday post (pre-accident) by typing in "bet tips." Then he adds his own little commentary, like " Not exactly what I was looking for, but still a interesting read." Mine was " What do you think of that?"
Here's what I think of that: you should post your own blogs rather than stealing the summary results from search engines that reference other people's blogs, most of which have nothing to do with what you claim your blog is about!
Whew. Mouthful.


pps - I watched "Some Like it Hot" last night, which is actually a pretty hilarious movie. Now I know the Marilyn fans will scream blasphemy, but seriously, the woman couldn't act. It took her 59 takes to say "where's the bottle." But Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon make up for it.

jiggity

If anyone wants any custom jewelry made, speak now while I have time off of work to make it. Of course, there are always the pre-made ones.


ps - someone found this blog by searching the words "smashing grandpa drama queen"

Hemingway as blogger

I just finished reading "A Movable Feast" by Ernest Hemingway. It's an autobiographical work about Paris in the 1920s, published posthumously. While not overly descriptive, it gets the job done. And it has lines like this:

And I thought to him, "You con man, conning me with your con."

which for some reason, cracks me up to no end. He also describes F. Scott Fitzgerald as a beautiful woman, but not the type of person you should hang around if you are quick to anger. This also cracks me up. The "chapters" in this book are really just short anecdotes loosely related because they all have to do with him and the people he meets. Much like a blog...

I told Craig that Hemingway was the first blogger. All the pieces fit. Craig didn't like this, and explained to me how H created his own style of writing that had never been done before, and that is why he's a great writer. To which I replied, "Well I wish he hadn't, because this is my style of writing and now I have no chance of publishing anything because I'm just copying H!"
It's true: the short, important sentences, the minimum descriptives, the flow of consciousness. H was a blogger, and he wrote a little thing called the wonderful world of des.

Seriously, people bought magazines - and later, novels - because they were so interested in H's next installment of thought. I wonder if people would pay to subscribe to my blog. If I was in H's time, before the i-net, maybe they would. Soon I will have my very own antique typewriter thanks to my friend, so I can transform myself into an old writer. I always thought I'd be a Truman Capote, so I could live the high society NY life, but now it's obvious that I'll be a Hemingway.

Now the trick is to find a publisher that really really likes H....




ps - someone found by blog by googling "gnc products for bigger butts".
ha ha ha! Bet H never had that!