Man. I guess there's something with me and Mondays and excessive unfortunate circumstances.
As the temperature last night dipped to a nippy 6 degrees, I enjoyed the minty taste of not one, but two glasses of a friendly goldschlagger with my comrade in our old college stomping grounds. When we realized all of the chairs and barstools around us were on tables and the bartender was giving us a not-altogether-subtle "go hither" look, I checked the clock and realized it was time to bundle up our woolens and hit that cold air face first as we trudged to the car.
We skipped out the door, merrily holding hands and singing to whatever Britney Spears song last unfortunately graced our ears. We brushed off the car with our bare hands, seemingly impervious to the pangs of deeply thrusting your hands into ice-cold snow. The car started like a champ, and I turned onto the street that would eventually lead us to the highway that would eventually lead us to our warm beds.
Except...my steering wheel was strangely and relentlessly pulling to the right.
We pulled over, my comrade jumped out, and said three words. "Flat. So. Flat." Whereas my back left tire was flat last week, this was the right front tire. And it was cashed. We're talking it was so out of air that the bottom of the tire was inverted, as if a giant of behemoth strength kicked it straight from underneath with all of the might he could muster.
My buddy painstakingly cranked the car up with a screwdriver (since I apparently don't have a crank tool that fits in the actual crank) and as we were sliding the spare on, the crank tipped backwards and my car crashed down. This forced us to have to close the crank all the way, shimmy it under the car, and start cranking the car upward again from zero - with nothing but that damn screwdriver.
Then we dropped the car off at the auto shop because frankly, I did not want to even look at the thing anymore much less ride in it. As I shoved a bottle of wine into my friend's mittened hands, hardly a fair reward for the unexpected surprise he had to deal with that night, my mind was split into two emotions: 1. bursting with gratitude for my unbelievably kind friend who has now changed two of my tires in one week in the frigid, painful cold and 2. bursting with the understanding that I really am going to have to learn how to change a tire if I keep insisting on driving during these blasted Minnesota winters.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
I officially have a couple crush.
It started with Everything is Illuminated. Then it became Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. Now, it is firmly imprinted in reading The History of Love.
It's official.
I have a couple crush on Jonathan Safran Foer and Nicole Krauss. Plus, I mean, they're not too hard on the eyes either...
Maybe they will adopt me and I can be like their cool friend/daughter that sits in front of fire places with them and reads their books. Of course, I wouldn't just live there for free, I would help them with grammar and spelling. If they tire of writing I would tell them jokes. And I would whip up all of the mac and cheese they could possibly want.
It's ok if I sleep in a separate bedroom because, obviously, they want their alone time. That is to be expected. But in general we would do everything together, like go to the park and the zoo to find inspiration for their stories, and we would rotate whose parents' house to go to for holidays. We'd be like a writing/editing/hanging out trio. Inseparable - like the three musketeers!
*I'm not a stalker.
It's official.
I have a couple crush on Jonathan Safran Foer and Nicole Krauss. Plus, I mean, they're not too hard on the eyes either...
Maybe they will adopt me and I can be like their cool friend/daughter that sits in front of fire places with them and reads their books. Of course, I wouldn't just live there for free, I would help them with grammar and spelling. If they tire of writing I would tell them jokes. And I would whip up all of the mac and cheese they could possibly want.
It's ok if I sleep in a separate bedroom because, obviously, they want their alone time. That is to be expected. But in general we would do everything together, like go to the park and the zoo to find inspiration for their stories, and we would rotate whose parents' house to go to for holidays. We'd be like a writing/editing/hanging out trio. Inseparable - like the three musketeers!
*I'm not a stalker.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
What a way to start the week.
Monday morning I rolled out of bed elated with the realization that for the first time in 9 days, I felt ok. I wasn't coughing my lungs up, I wasn't dripping with sickness. I wasn't great...but I could finally go to work. I jumped in the shower, threw on a nice outfit, and gingerly put on my coat, hat, mittens, scarf, and boots. I chuckled to myself as I walked to my car thinking -4 degrees doesn't even feel cold. Take this "winter".
Oops! What's that? I need some gas? No problem. I'm running early! A stop at the gas station is totally doable. I drive 8 blocks to the gas station, hop out of my car, and realize that my little gas door is frozen shut. Oh silly gas door. You're no match for me. I go back to the car and grab my window scraper to pry the door open. Except there's this thickly-accented guy yelling something through the loudspeaker from inside of the station. And he KEEPS SHOUTING "Something, something, lady, something! HEY LADY something something something!" Why is he yelling on this brisk, beautiful Monday?
Turns out, my tire was flat. So unbelievably flat.
I started calling boys. Finally, one answered and said he would come to my rescue, taking his comrade along to assist. While I waited, contemplating what to do and whether to move the car, not one, but two buttons popped off my coat, leaving one measly button the incredibly important task of holding closed my coat on the coldest day of the year. And that "lightly brisk" air that wasn't bothering me before quickly started producing a piercing, burning cold numbing my entire body. The men did their job, and they did it well, but we soon realized the spare they put on my car was very low on air. We went to not one, but two air pumps before we realized they are all frozen. It was too cold...for even a pump...to pump air.
They led me to the nearest mechanic, and as I was shakily driving my car there the windows started to fill with a heavy, thick fog. This never happens to me because obviously I have the heat/defrost going every time I drive in the cold. But of course...for the first time in my life...the heat wasn't working. Nothing. Not even a mere puff of air. Phenomenal!
This meant the guys at the shop wanted to keep the car for the day, in order to fix the first tire and the spare, put the old tire back on, check out the heat, and perform a maintenance test. I was expecting to be able to drive to work on the spare, so as I left the shop dumbfounded with my luck and intimidated by the 9 block walk I had to even get back to my house, the waterworks started flowing. Facing -4 degree weather, no car, and feet so numb I was convinced I had no feet, I cried.
In an ultimate display of altruism, my friends brought me back to their house and gave me coffee and company while I mashed my body up against their kitchen heater, practically seizuring from the cold. And then my friend drove me to work. The mechanics later called to tell me the tires were fixed and the heater was working fine - it was just too cold that morning to work. They also caught a taillight that was out and fixed that too, not even charging me that much for it, even though they could have (because what do I know about stupid cars?). And finally, all was well.
I would like to dedicate this tale to anyone who knows how to change a tire. You are the true heroes, my friends. You...are...just...so...........yes!
Oops! What's that? I need some gas? No problem. I'm running early! A stop at the gas station is totally doable. I drive 8 blocks to the gas station, hop out of my car, and realize that my little gas door is frozen shut. Oh silly gas door. You're no match for me. I go back to the car and grab my window scraper to pry the door open. Except there's this thickly-accented guy yelling something through the loudspeaker from inside of the station. And he KEEPS SHOUTING "Something, something, lady, something! HEY LADY something something something!" Why is he yelling on this brisk, beautiful Monday?
Turns out, my tire was flat. So unbelievably flat.
I started calling boys. Finally, one answered and said he would come to my rescue, taking his comrade along to assist. While I waited, contemplating what to do and whether to move the car, not one, but two buttons popped off my coat, leaving one measly button the incredibly important task of holding closed my coat on the coldest day of the year. And that "lightly brisk" air that wasn't bothering me before quickly started producing a piercing, burning cold numbing my entire body. The men did their job, and they did it well, but we soon realized the spare they put on my car was very low on air. We went to not one, but two air pumps before we realized they are all frozen. It was too cold...for even a pump...to pump air.
They led me to the nearest mechanic, and as I was shakily driving my car there the windows started to fill with a heavy, thick fog. This never happens to me because obviously I have the heat/defrost going every time I drive in the cold. But of course...for the first time in my life...the heat wasn't working. Nothing. Not even a mere puff of air. Phenomenal!
This meant the guys at the shop wanted to keep the car for the day, in order to fix the first tire and the spare, put the old tire back on, check out the heat, and perform a maintenance test. I was expecting to be able to drive to work on the spare, so as I left the shop dumbfounded with my luck and intimidated by the 9 block walk I had to even get back to my house, the waterworks started flowing. Facing -4 degree weather, no car, and feet so numb I was convinced I had no feet, I cried.
In an ultimate display of altruism, my friends brought me back to their house and gave me coffee and company while I mashed my body up against their kitchen heater, practically seizuring from the cold. And then my friend drove me to work. The mechanics later called to tell me the tires were fixed and the heater was working fine - it was just too cold that morning to work. They also caught a taillight that was out and fixed that too, not even charging me that much for it, even though they could have (because what do I know about stupid cars?). And finally, all was well.
I would like to dedicate this tale to anyone who knows how to change a tire. You are the true heroes, my friends. You...are...just...so...........yes!
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Is my neice or nephew going to love me?
I just found out my sister has caught the preggers disease. And by disease I mean...the best thing that's ever happened to me! I happen to think I was born to be an aunt, and I'm under the impression that the thing is going to love me because, let's face it, I'm everything it could ever hope for in a future aunt.
Think about it. I'm young, relatively hip (and by relatively I mean hipper than the little blob of goo is right now), energetic, I have a gaggle of knock knock jokes just waiting to be shared, I always have a fresh supply of candy, I know CPR, I will give it toys, and I like crawling around on the floor. I mean c'mon!
I was bragging about the little tyke (who is currently cooking in the oven, where he/she will remain for the next 6+ months) to my coworker, and he advised me to explore caution in my anticipation and to try to keep my hopes for my relationship with the thing at a limit (because frankly those hopes are soaring right now -- SOARING).
He said:
Is my future niece or nephew going to be a bragging prick for the next 8.5 years? Possibly. Perhaps even likely. I hadn't thought of this. Plus, what if it voms on me? What if it sits on my glasses? What if it slaps the dog? What if it steals my sister away for forever and I'm not her favorite* anymore?! Oh god.
*self-proclaimed
Think about it. I'm young, relatively hip (and by relatively I mean hipper than the little blob of goo is right now), energetic, I have a gaggle of knock knock jokes just waiting to be shared, I always have a fresh supply of candy, I know CPR, I will give it toys, and I like crawling around on the floor. I mean c'mon!
I was bragging about the little tyke (who is currently cooking in the oven, where he/she will remain for the next 6+ months) to my coworker, and he advised me to explore caution in my anticipation and to try to keep my hopes for my relationship with the thing at a limit (because frankly those hopes are soaring right now -- SOARING).
He said:
Careful. I was really excited about the arrival of my first nephew. Let's be real, I was born to be an Uncle. I'm mischievous, cool and I already had twenty some years experience battling his mother so advocating on his behalf would be a cinch. The problem? For like 8 years we totally didn't like each other. Frankly, he was a bit of a prick and that didn't sit well with me. Also, he's a bit of a braggart. I'm not sure what happened though, last summer we were both in Croatia and we kind of got along.
Is my future niece or nephew going to be a bragging prick for the next 8.5 years? Possibly. Perhaps even likely. I hadn't thought of this. Plus, what if it voms on me? What if it sits on my glasses? What if it slaps the dog? What if it steals my sister away for forever and I'm not her favorite* anymore?! Oh god.
*self-proclaimed
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