New Semesters

I just started my new semester in grad school. I’m only taking one class, as opposed to my (stupid!) decision to take two during the summer, so I figured it wouldn’t be too bad.

Until I looked at the list of required books. There were FIVE.

Sigh.

Then, I realize on my way to class, that I have no idea what room the class is even in. I have not received any emails, don’t even remember the professor’s name, and don't have any of those 5 books, as I ordered them late. Great start!

I find the class and it’s in a computer lab. (which, I really should’ve guessed considering the class is about public relations “in the digital age”…I’m a quick one) And I’m not that pleased considering I spend my entire day in front of computer AND I’m now worried I’ll be distracted by my personal email and/or Facebook during class because I’m a Goldfish Poodle.

Then I realize the computer screens are GIANT and the rows behind me could definitely see the one time I DID open my personal email. The top message in my inbox was from my crazy friend in Philly and the subject line simply read “Why I’m Single.”

So now I'm scared to open that email.

I end up briefly glancing at it on my phone instead and that subject line held a huge STRING of replies between a few of my friends but the only message I took the time to read said:

 “being in a relationship is like being on a donkey that runs head first into a wall”

So yeah, good call on not opening that on Giant Screen, lest the people behind me immediately judge me based on my friends.

The donkey thing actually refers to a story about Philly Friend where she was on a donkey that did run head first into a wall so remembering that of course made me giggle to myself during class. So the people behind me probably think I'm crazy anyway. Better they learn early, I suppose!

I later told Philly Friend about the incident and she replied that she would be sending me blank emails with inappropriate subject lines every week during my class for the sake of the people behind me in that case. Considering this girl has also sent me work-related (hers, not mine) emails involving Koalas and STDs, I absolutely believe her.

So, I definitely won’t be doing much personal communications during class afterall.  Fortunately for me, the professor is totally entertaining.

He began by frantically pacing the room before introducing himself. He assigned us all to use Google + as the class communication tool, which none of us - including him - really understand. And at one point he asked who all in the class had ever tried to influence social media in their organizations, and when one girl said she actually quit her last job because she had tried and they wouldn't take her suggestions, the teacher blurted out:

“No sh… kidding?”

To which everyone snickered like 7^th graders because THE TEACHER NEARLY SWORE!

He also asked us all where we worked and one girl announced she worked for Street Sense...then immediately clarified "The retailer, not the Homeless Newspaper."

Because Street Sense is actually the name of a paper that the homeless community in D.C. writes and sells to earn income. I think it’s a fantastic program, but I guess I can understand the questions that inevitably would arise as to how someone involved with that publication could afford to be in grad school… in any case, later in the class the professor basically referenced her as the Girl Who Does not Work for the Homeless Newspaper.

Nice. Hopefully I don't become The Girl Who Is not Passing This Class Because She is Too Busy Reading Emails About Suicidal Donkeys.

Then, halfway through the class, the professor inexplicably begins writing all our names on the board in teams under titles like “Email” or “Wiki”. My name?

was under “Special Team.”

And instead of the obvious mental stability joke there, I think, "So …I’m …the…Kicker for the class??" (I don’t think anyone else’s brains went straight to football because when I made some remark about how “some games are won by special teams” no one responded. I guess THEY aren’t from an SEC state like Tennessee …)

In any case, the professor never did explain what that meant so that should be interesting. But I’m a little nervous about this whole Team thing because I typically hate group work. I’m weird, I have my own personal processes that work for me but look crazy messy to others, and I’m a perfectionist in many ways and end up just doing most of the work myself.  NERD ALERT, I know. But that being said, my class is also 99% female. And you know what I hate just as much as working in groups?

Working with females.

I know, I know, that’s totally un-“sisterhood of the travelling pants” of me but I’m sorry, my gender talks too much, is too emotional when it comes to business, and sugar-coats things instead of just spitting out what needs to be said.

Don’t get me wrong, I can have a mood-swing and get super-sensitive LIKE IT’S MY JOB. But ironically, AT my job, I tend to function more like a male. At least in the sense that – let’s cut the crap, stop taking things personally, and just freaking get the job done. But I digress.

In the end, I think this class might be fun, group work and all. We'll see.

But this week was not only the start of my school semester, but the "Small Group" (AKA Bible Studies) semester at my church also just started. And I had a less than stellar start to that as well, which I'll explain more next time.

My 9/11 Story

I figured given the 10th Anniversary of the 9/11 attacks on the U.S. I would tell my personal story of being at the White House when that happened. I in no way want to belittle the tragedy, loss, symbolism and heroism of that day and I'm so grateful that everyone I know was kept safe. But below is what happened to me, humorous parts and all.

During my Semester In D.C. (told briefly about here), our school work consisted of half in-class work and half internship work. By some miracle, my internship ended up being at the White House, where I later got hired full-time as a Political Appointee. But my internship started on 9/10/01....

So the next day - aka My Second Day on the job - I came in early to open the office. We quickly heard reports of the first plane hitting the tower in NYC and everyone just thought it was an unfortunate accident.

When the second plane hit - we all knew something bigger was happening and we felt like we were likely going to be a target.

Everyone wore worried expressions but kept working and kept an eye on the news. After the third plane hit, I distinctly remember standing on the balcony of our office, watching the smoke rise from the Pentagon.

But we continued to stay.

After a little bit, the headline on television read "White House Evacuated." To which we understandably were like -

"Huh?"

Because we were still there and hadn't heard anything outside of our office either. I stepped out into the hallway just to see if anyone looked like they might be scurrying away and further down the hall was a Secret Service agent in bomb-squad gear. And he saw me and yelled:

"What are you doing! This is real!"

To which I kind of slunked sheepishly back in my office with a timid "uh, guys? I think we're supposed to leave...."

Being the Type A go-getters that us interns were (there were 3 others besides me) we, of course, were not going to be the first ones to freak out. We were going down with the ship too, dang it! So even after I convinced most of the office to leave, another intern kept typing away before someone forced her to also get out.

This is how crazy people in D.C. are. Our lives are at risk, sure, but let's try to go ahead and finish that press release anyway...

It was weird because we didn't run. It felt so much like a dream that it was hard to get all that excited. I remember exiting the building and into the sunshine -- that day was gorgeous in D.C. Later, we would all comment on the sick juxtaposition of having such a horrible act take place on such a beautiful day...

The streets. Were. Gridlocked. And I remember people incessantly honking as if that would make anyone move faster. There was no place to move. Cars had already swarmed the streets, there were erroneous reports of fires on the National Mall, fires in the Metro trains, car bombs at the White House, etc. No one know what was going to be hit next.

Thankfully, a staffer in our office lived not too far away in Georgetown so a few of us walked a couple miles with her, passing by places like The World Bank which made me look up warily like "are YOU next?"

Somehow I was able to call my mom on my cell - which was a miracle in itself because the phone lines were jammed by that point - and I remember her tearfully telling me to just "come home." Of course I didn't consider that, though other people in my school program did and the school itself considered sending all of us home. That all happened later though. Right now, I was planning to stay in Georgetown until we could figure out how to get me back to our school's building on Capitol Hill.

A group of people ended up at the staffer's house and I remember being glued to the news (that was before the networks put the kabash on showing the more graphic images of the towers) and some of us prayed, others were on the phone with their doctors proactively getting prescriptions for Cipro (again...type A-ers don't mess around...) and the staffer, me and another intern (who would later become one of my best friends and incidentally was part of the Slap Game and created Henrietta the Turkey here) decided to go buy supplies - just in case.

Here's where it gets humorous because we were PARANOID. And granted, no one knew what was happening at that point or whether there had been any sort of bio or chemical agents released, or how long these attacks were going to continue, etc. But even still, we may have gone a bit overboard....

So the three of us - me, the other intern and the staffer - set out to buy food and bottled water. You know, just in case we needed to build a fallout shelter in the nicest neighborhood in D.C. And we think "what if there IS some kind of biological something in the air?"

So we put on sunglasses.

And bandanas.

...on our faces. So now we are tredging out of the staffer's home - IN POSH GEORGETOWN - and we look like bandits.

And we head to what was referred to as the Social Safeway.

Side Note: D.C. has had several Safeway grocery stores in different parts of the city that were nicknamed for their various qualities. "Social Safeway" was in Georgetown where the cool kids went. "Unsafe Safeway" (the one *I* had to use by my school) was in a bad part of town on Capitol Hill. "Soviet Safeway" was so named because it had long lines and little options...and so on and so on. (Have I mentioned I love this city? Such character.)

So we stop by an ATM on the way to Social Safeway and we realize we look like we are going to rob a bank. So then we just look at each other, burst out laughing, and take off our ridiculous terrorism prevention "gear".

We bought some things and returned to the house where we stayed the rest of the day until the roads cleared and I was able to be driven back to my school.

The next day - we went back to the White House. And that always struck me because everyone went back. We still didn't know for sure what was going on or if the attacks were over, but no one let fear stop their lives. The President himself came around later to personally thank people for coming back to work. It made me feel good to see that and also hear the stories of how people had helped each other the day before. And we continued to help in whatever way we could over the next few weeks, even if just in little ways, like buying coffee for the National Guardsmen and extra security who quickly moved into our city to protect us.

The next couple of weeks held other interesting events as well, that I'll tell another time, but now you know what memories go through my mind on 9/11 every year. DC changed so much that day, with road's being closed and security ramping up, but of course our country and the world changed in much bigger ways as well.

Each anniversary, us staffers used to go to the South Lawn of the White House to have a moment of silence with the President before he headed over to do the same at the Pentagon at the exact time it was hit. I plan to hold my own moment of silence Sunday in respect for not only that day, but gratitude for my own safety and for the people, many of whom I'm proud to call friends, who have continued to work in intelligence and military operations to make sure that didn't happen again in the last decade.

We will never forget.

The Grand Prix of Confusion

This weekend I attended the Inaugural! Baltimore! Grand Prix!

The race itself was awesome. The whole getting there and getting back, however, was less than a smooth ride.

My friend J took me and I was put in charge of reading the directions from the website. And because the Grand Prix is a car race THROUGH the downtown of a city, they set up shuttle busses from satelite parking areas to get people to the race.

The directions were fine until the last task of "take the second right at Light Street."

We couldn't find a Light Street so ended up driving into an old Walmart shopping center where we saw a lot of cars parked, but no signs about why. Our directions said "the shuttle bus area will be clearly marked and there will be volunteers to help you."

i.e. "You'd have to be an IDIOT to miss this, it will be so obvious"

We see two young guys handing out flyers so we ask them. "Do you know where Light Street is? Or where we pick up the shuttles for the race?"

They hand us a $5 dollar off coupon for "Nick's Fish House" and tell us Light Street is across town.

Okaaay. This looks like a parking lot for something since there are cars PARKED ON GRASS everywhere, but we'll try this again. So we leave, drive around, make U-turns, finally find a lot that says it's for the race, and we pull in. And the guy asks for $20 bucks.

Huh? It's supposed to be free, this must not be the right lot. So we ask him where Light Street is.

He says it's across town.

So we nearly just pay the 20 bucks just so we can stop driving around but J and I are both of the "I'll walk 5 miles before I pay for parking" type so we decide we'll give it one more try before conceding.

So we head back to Walmart.

And get offered a coupon again.

But this time, we see shuttle busses and ask one of the drivers "do these take us to the rac..."

"Get on that one!"

We obey, and I start to show THAT driver my Grand Prix ticket and he waves me off with a "I don't need to see that."

So J and I take our seats, passing by rows of interesting looking people (some slumped over) and think "Ok! We're getting somewhere now!"

(...ooor we just jumped on a random bus that will take us Who Knows Where! Either way, it'll be an adventure, right?)

So we drive for a bit and the bus finally stops - and no one does anything. The driver doesn't say anything, the people don't move. Finally a lady yells "is this where we get off?" And the driver says yes. But still most of the bus doesn't move (particularly the slumped over ones). But whatever, J and I are getting off!

We look at our tickets which say Gate D. And there's a sign in front of us that says Gate C. So we figure that's close enough and start heading that way.

Our tickets were to get us into the "Infield", which is the large area of downtown that is in the middle of the course the cars are running around all day. And we can HEAR race cars, but can't SEE them yet, so we walk around trying to get "in" and No One Can Help Us. We ask no less than 5 different people how we just get IN, and we are pointed to a different place each time. We finally realize we have to go in a building, up escalators in a mall, and over a pedestrian bridge to finally get "in" the infield. (which is outside).

And after waiting in line, we finally get on the bridge and see a line of complaining people being held up by metro cops, going the other way. So J and I keep going our direction, and now we wonder "after all this to get in, are we not allowed to get OUT??" and that's when I hear a volunteer tell someone that the bridge isn't built to hold all the people that are currently trying to use it.

Oh neat! Good planning, Baltimore!

Needless to say, J and I picked up the pace.

Once we finally got IN, we relaxed a little, bought lemonade, and tried not to worry about how we were later going to have to get OUT. Whatever! We are here now! Onto the cars!

We stake out ground right in front of the start line and realize we are allowed to go down on the track to meet the drivers. So of course I have to take photos. And I really know nothing about this sport. But I get a photo with a car anyway. But that's not enough. I need one with a driver. So we find a guy who is half wearing a race jumpsuit thing, so I pounce.

Me: Can I take a photo with you?
Him: Oh, I'm not the driver
Me: Can you pretend to be?

So here's Fake Driver:

(Then I found a REAL driver right as the race organizers were pushing us off the track and I pounce on him too. So here is Real Driver:)

So then J and I take our place outside the protective fence and the cars start up and take off.

And here's where I black out from happiness because those cars are LOUD and FAST and I have a ridiculous half-mouth-open, half-goofy-grin expression on my face for the next few laps.

And I'm not alone. The people around me have similar expressions and it's funny how Mutual Excitement! makes everyone feel like we all know each other. So the little guy standing in front of J and I turns to look at us like "Do you see that man!!! Do you see that!!" Except we can't actually understand him, he's just excitedly mumbling and HITTING J repeatedly.

So I'm still gazing in awe at the cars, and J's trying to pry this man off of him, and the lady next to me feels she needs to let me know which car she loves the most, and the man next to her is yelling "oh he has that WIIIDE open, that is WIIIIDE open!!!"

So that's the little scene of our spectator group. I then attempt to actually photograph the cars. But did I mention they are FAST? Here is what I ended up taking like 6 photos of:

Yep. You can't actually see a car in the photo at all.
I eventually got a little better at it:

And seriously, besides the poor logistics (and the whole possible bridge collapse thing) this was a fantastic event. And we stayed for hours before finally heading back home....

...then we realize: How do we GET back home?

By now, we've wandered around the "infield" so much we don't know how to get back to where the bus dropped us off. So I remember we were near Gate C and we look at the map-

And there is no Gate C.

So we see a Gate A, and head for that. Eh, it'll lead OUT somewhere, right?

We ask YET ANOTHER PERSON to help us and after a long process, we finally find random busses picking people up in a parking lot.

So we start to get on one and I realize -- these are City busses. Not so much Free Shuttles. And I have no idea where they are going, since I don't live in Baltimore.

So I'm trying to explain things to the driver, who is giving me the "Blink....Blink...." face like he has no clue what I'm saying and thankfully two guys FROM NEW JERSEY that are sitting on the bus tell us they know exactly what we are saying, they are going to the same place, and to just get on.

So we all bond, talking about how poorly organized this whole thing was and how we all got lost getting into the event, and the bus starts driving into a part of town J and I have not seen.

But the Jersey guys are adamant and they assure us "it's fine, he's going to drop us off at the corner, then we walk to another corner and get on another bus..."

Oh dear. But since J and I don't have a better plan, we follow along. And guess where the random corner in this random part of town is that the bus drops us off at?

Light Street.

So we've now come full-circle in our frustration. And we head to this elusive Other Bus --

And we walk RIGHT INTO THE ORIGINAL PLACE THE SHUTTLES DROPPED US OFF AT EARLIER AT NON-EXISTENT GATE C.

No freaking way! We really just took a bus across town...to just get around the infield. Sigh.

Nonetheless, surely these HAVE to take us back to our cars, right? And we see a sign that says "Port Covington".

What tha? We aren't trying to go to A PORT, we are trying to go to the street -that isn't Light Street- where the old Walmart -AND OUR CAR- is!

But once again, J and I have no other plan. So we hop on.

And lo and behold, we DO end up back at the Walmart -- which we realize is part of the "Port Covington Shopping Center." Ah, nothing like labeling things in a way WE COULD UNDERSTAND, like, I don't know, "Shuttle Parking Lot A"??

And as the bus is driving, we pass ...."Nick's Fish House".

Ha! We really have come full-circle.

So we take our coupons and eat at that darn fish house and happily finish out our day of confusion.

My Friends

I just learned a place on Capitol Hill where my friends used to love getting chicken wings is basically closing. Thinking of this place makes me remember a particularly ridiculous night we had hanging out there...which makes me remember other ridiculous things about that particular group of friends. I'll share some of those things now!

The Slap Game
At some point years ago, I heard that there was a phenomenon occurring in England where people would walk up to random strangers and just slap them in the face for no reason.

Knowing that my friends are just as weird as I am, I immediately shared this excitedly.

To this day I still don't know why that started happening in England or when it ended, but one night at that place on Capitol Hill - my friends and I decided to see why that game might be fun. And you know what? It IS! ...until you are the one being slapped.

(This photo is of two of our friends slapping one another...who later married each other. Proving relationships CAN survive this "game", in case you were wondering...)

That night, I think we only attacked eachother, but since then, my friend Rebekah has definitely hauled off and done it unexpectedly to strangers. As you can guess, it doesn't go over so well usually. EXCEPT the one time she kept slapping the rear end of a girl and then blaming our friend Mike, inadvertently creating a situation where Mike had to apologize repeatedly to the girl...and ended up scoring her number.

Hmm, perhaps I should rent out Rebekah to guys on the weekend to help them talk to women....

Anyway, this same group of friends is also fond of Theme Parties. Really, any excuse to wear something ridiculous.

Through the years, they've had parties like "Jovi/Sinatra" (where attendees must decide if they are more white trash - aka Bon Jovi, or classy - aka Frank, and dress accordingly. The Jovi crowd is always quite the sight...a very painful sight.) They've also had parties like "Dress as your favorite injury!" Yes. I know you are jealous that these are my friends and not yours.

And one of my favorite things about these parties is: Henrietta.

Henrietta
Henrietta is a turkey. Not a live one, a frozen one. Who is at least, oh, 7 years old now I'd say.

It all started when two friends in that group lived together. When they moved into different places, one still had a frozen turkey in the freezer. And long story short, this started a multi-year game where they'd take turns keeping the Turkey. They'd pass it off to each other whenever they moved again and then it began showing up at their parties.

One New Year's Eve, Henrietta even wore lipstick, which ended up on my arm, prompting unsuspecting guests to wonder why my bicep was bleeding. But that wasn't nearly as bad as what happened a couple years ago when someone's boyfriend showed up to one of our parties completely obliterated and proceeded to hoist Henrietta up in the air...

and then dropped her on someone ELSE at the party. Starting a fight.

And I have to say, if you are going to get injured at a party, telling people someone dropped a FROZEN TURKEY on your head is really the best story you can have.

That turkey has been around.

But another thing that's also been around our parties? Naked Guy.

Naked Guy
So at one of the Halloween parties my friends had one year, everyone invaded their house in costume. Except one guy. Who showed up without one and felt left out. So what does he do?

Takes his clothes off.

Not completely, he left on his underwear, but the funny part was one of the girls hosting the party - didn't know who the guy was. So we started asking around.

And NONE of us knew who he was.

Which made us like him even more because who just wanders off the street into someone's house and takes their clothes off?

We later found out the other host knew him (to our disappointment) BUT the NEXT time they had a party -

He did it again.

But no one else was in costume.

The girls just dared him to do it so he did. I can't remember how many parties this guy ended up at without clothes but I love that I don't even know his name to this day. He's simply: Naked Guy. And recently I saw him out in D.C. at a random metro stop and I frantically texted a friend like "I think I just saw Naked Guy but I can't be sure because he looks different wearing clothes..."

The fact that I can send texts like that to these people are why we are friends.

Sadly, many of these guys have since left D.C. But perhaps I'll go slap someone on the street now, in their honor...

Nothing In Particular

I’m alive.

I know this is the longest I’ve gone without posting and many of you heard of our little earthquake so I’m sure you all were DYING to make sure I survived.

I did, and I feel like I should post something now, but my head is so clogged with grad school final paper stuff that my brain is mush. And I’m so tired of having to write in an “organized fashion” (insert air quotes ala Chris Farley here) and "actually be interesting" and have a flow in a paper that “makes sense,” that I think I’m going to rebel and just have this post be:

Dana’s Random Stream Of Consciousness!

(line above to be read in the same manner that circus people yell 'It’s The Greatest Show On Earth!'...and maybe with an echo, for effect.)

See below, in no particular order. Or rather, in any order of my choosing. Take THAT logical thought processes!

1.

The sign in the ladies restroom at work says: “This Commode is not designed to accept paper towels.”

Ok - who calls it a "commode"?

And - designed to “Accept”? I’m not giving the “Commode” a tip. Or a compliment... (I’m also not giving it paper towels because THERE IS TOILET PAPER. Who would use a paper towel instead?! Ouch.)

I wanted to take a photo on my phone but realized then I’d be the creepo taking photos inside a bathroom stall.

Maybe tomorrow though.

B.

I just noticed on the side of my Facebook wall that there is now a “On This Day!” box for random facts. Fortunately, mine was only that me and my friend Jim became "Friends" on Facebook “On This Day Two Years Ago!” (I know, fascinating...)

But I wonder where this will go. I’m picturing sobbing girls talking about how Facebook reminded them of when they first “became friends” with their ex, or maybe Facebook will start On This Day's for “You became Single again!” or “Joe Smith deleted you after calling you a pyscho hose-beast!”

Dangerous territory, Facebook. Bold move.

#14.

Did I mention we had an EARTH. QUAKE. In D.C. That ain’t normal. Can I list some of the 47.5 Not Normal things I’ve encountered since living here?
-terrorist attacks
-anthrax
-the D.C. Sniper
-a hurricane
-the worst winter D.C. has ever seen
-the highest temperatures D.C. has ever seen
-the worst earthquake D.C. has ever had.
-a PLAGUE of LOCUSTS! No joke. Well, maybe not a plague, but once every like 17 years we get an infestation of Cicadas. They are very similar to locusts and attach themselves to EVERYTHING (like the back of my skirt in Target. Ahem. I only knew this after a child screamed about it to her mother...) and they sound like crickets BUT WITHOUT A BREAK IN NOISE. They were here for like two weeks. I'm sure people went deaf.

And now we have a hurricane supposedly coming this weekend. I seriously can't keep up anymore.

XX.

Recent lesson learned: When I’m looking for running shoes and want to know how close to the end of a shoe my toe should be for optimal comfort, I need a saleslady who is actually following the conversation. Me asking her if she thinks the NINES that I have on are TOO BIG for me and having her say she didn’t think I needed to try a TEN is not so helpful. Especially on the third go around of that conversation. Her:“Oh I think 10 would be too big” Me: “Yes, well, I would assume so as well since I’m asking if NINE IS TOO BIG...I'm trying to get your opinion on if you think 8.5 would be too small” Her: “Oh you think 9 is too small?”

Me: Sigh.

After being so addled by that conversation, I proceed to make a fool of myself while paying. I purchase two pairs of the same shoe because they are buy one get one half off. I even confirm that fact with the cashier. Then when the cashier says “ok, these are $99 and these are $49” I immediately blurt out something like “Yeah, why is that? Shouldn’t they be the same price? They’re the same shoe.”

Her (now clearly questioning how I got myself to the store alone): “Because. They. Are. Buy. One. Get. One. Half. Off.”

Ah. I’m up to speed now, thanks.

4.

I recently met a man who gave me his business card. It was all black and on the back it just said:

Ed.
Get it.

I’m now considering doing something similar but putting better instructions. Like:

Dana.
Buy her things.

I’m still working on it...

Yellow.

My coworker and I are awaiting badges for my new project site so we are left at the mercy of others to escort us for everything from letting us upstairs in the morning to letting us use the restroom (where the toilets won’t accept paper towels, no matter how nicely you offer). Today, when she and I came back after having the AUDICITY to get lunch, we couldn’t get anyone to escort us. We finally saw a random guy we recognized, but didn’t know by name, about to get in the elevator. To which we BOTH simultanesouly began yelling “OOOH! OOOH!” like kids trying not to be last picked for dodge ball. Pathetic. When we filed in sheepishly behind him, the guy asked what days we came in during the week...so he could work from home those days.

Sigh.

Alabama.

I’m really considering using this “numbering” system in my every day life. Just to keep folks on their toes.

#17.

I'll sign off now and prepare for the impending hurricane. I can't keep up with all the protection measures we need around here anymore so I fear my brain will do something similar this weekend that my friend Steve's did when he accidentally caught his sleeve on fire at a party and tried to remember the mantra "Stop, Drop, and Roll".

Instead?

He could only remember "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle"

Wish me luck, Internet....

Daddy's little...Girl?

I've been in a funk lately. It's a combination of not having a steady challenge at work and not having a recent adventure (preferably of the International Trip kind) and in general just not knowing where my life is going. I finally reached the point where I think I'd like to "settle down" and get married (better late than never, right Mom and Dad??) but if you've seen any of my DC Dating posts, you can imagine why that hasn't happened yet...

So I've been thinking of crazy things. Like looking into the military reserves.

And that's only crazy because I'm a huge committment-phobe (see marriage talk above). And I can't say I'm totally seriously considering the reserves, but some days I do feel kind of serious and this isn't the first time I've looked into it. I always go through phases where I feel like I'm meant for something more challenging than a desk job. Something that not everyone is cut out for, or that is maybe slightly dangerous, or intense and secretive, or .... I don't know, something where I need a weapon! (Here's why that is funny: because the last time I shot a pistol I was sweating so badly from nerves that the gun nearly slid out of my hands when I pulled the trigger -- then a shell came up and HIT ME IN THE FACE, which you can imagine didn't help matters...)

And although I do typically thrive under pressure and love a challenge, I'm also very girly/giggly/southern-belle-like too so the only job that really seems to fit is that of a Charlie's Angel. And, I don't know if you know this, but they aren't real.

Le Sigh.

So instead I'm probably destined to a life at a desk job. Although I am grateful I've had some fun opportunities along the way like working in disaster response or that one time I got to walk over a Top Secret document to the "Sit Room" (the Situation Room in the bottom of the West Wing where all the cool stuff happens in movies and there are no windows and there are clocks on the wall with all the different time zones... You know the one.) And I'm grateful I have volunteer opportunities like construction work with Habitat for Humanity or volunteering at the military hospital here. But this whole "I need to get my hands dirty" obsession remains. And it's always been there.

I joke that I was my dad's "little boy" growing up. My sister never wanted anything to do with dirt, or rough-housing, or...the outside world.

She and my mom are much more Hotel People where me and my dad are more Tent People.

So I was always the one who would go on snowmobile trips, or 4-wheeling trips, or fishing, or play in my dad's dirty warehouse or try to drive a Forklift, etc.

...Or drive the riding lawn mower....up a tree. (Yes. That happened when I was little and there is embarrassing photographic proof at my parents' house. All the neighbors came out. And I'm pretty sure I cried.)

Come to think of it, just last year I also shredded a garden hose while mowing the lawn at my parents'. My dad had LITERALLY just said it was basically impossible to tear the hose up if I drove over it the right way... and I immediately drove over it the wrong way apparently. Huh. Perhaps I'm not the Lawn Mowing type afterall...I'm totally still doing it though because dad has the cool industrial mower that you steer with Levers. I heart it.

Anyway, I was the one who rode a little motorcycle around our back yard before I could drive a car and then I was the one to CHOOSE A MUSCLE CAR when I COULD drive.

And often my girly side would war with my tomboy side, like when I went on an All Male 4-wheeling trip in the hills of Tennessee that involved a giant rocky up-hill climb on which I ended up SINGING to myself IN MY HELMUT to keep from freaking the crap out and stopping halfway up (which could've caused me to flip over backwards down the rocks. So, a little important not to do that). When I finally got to the top, all blanched and sweaty, the guys CLAPPED for me.

But most of the time, I enjoyed the boy stuff. Like when my 4-wheeler started sinking into a giant mud hole so I FLOORED it, spraying mud skyhigh behind me - and all over myself - and I didn't let off the throttle until I finally came out on the other side. To which my dad wore an expression of shock and pure admiration and said "I did NOT know how I'd get that out if you let off so I'm so glad you stayed with it!"

Side note: My front axle once broke on a ride and my dad then drove my 4-wheeler off the mountain ON THREE WHEELS. Needless to say, he's my hero so I like to impress him whenever I can.

So maybe wanting to amuse my dad is part of the reason I continued to want to do "tough girl" things. But more so I just like a challenge. I feel like certain people are cut out to be pressed and certain people don't enjoy that at all. I like it, so I always wonder if I'm wasting that ...skill?...by not doing something less safe.

Like should I be doing humanitarian aid work in a war zone somewhere? Or building mud huts full time in Ethiopia? Female Secret Service Agent? (Come on, I pull off the vest, minus the I'm About To Giggle smirk, right? *this was taken on my first POTUS (President Of The United States) Advance job...when I was warned never to date an agent. Stealing their UNIFORM, on the other hand, was totally permitted.*)

If anyone is recruiting for Charlie's Angel type occupations, I'm all (sparkly earring-clad) ears!

Murphy, is there really no one else you can torment?

I've mentioned that I'm a victim of Murphy's Law quite frequently:

Murphy's Law (from Wikipedia): an adage or epigram that is typically stated as: "Anything that can go wrong will go wrong".

I fear if I continue to tell about days like I had here, people will either stop believing me, or they'll grow tired of my schtick and only pay attention again if I one day have a post that simply says:

Today, nothing weird happened. At all.

And then everyone would start reading again because "did you hear that nothing happened to Dana? That is CRAZY!"

Sigh. But I promise, "What's With Today, today?" is the rule of my life and "nothing weird happened" is absolutely the exception.

I give you- Exhibit A: This Week.

I told you I was on the hunt for a new work project and I finally started one this Monday. Which, of course, always involves a learning curve - new coworkers, new clients, new people at the office you have to learn to watch out for, like the guy who told me he wanted to BITE MY HAND on a project a couple years ago...

You know, normal office stuff.

And you know how I had crazy computer issues a couple weeks ago? And met the hippies with the shark tooth here? Well hang with me; this is going to get convoluted ...

TWO WEEKS AGO: my personal computer got a virus and freaked out - when I was trying to turn in homework. The Geek Squad at Best Buy charged me nearly $200 to fix it but they added an anti-virus thingy (I already had tried TWO other ones....) and gave me a year's warranty and said I was good to go.

TWO NIGHTS AGO: I GOT THE SAME %*@#*$% VIRUS....also while trying to turn in homework. Seriously!? So my personal laptop had to go back to the Geeks.

Meanwhile, my work laptop is older than Betty White and not only takes 3 years to do anything, but sometimes it just freezes up for no reason. So I finally got my company to give me a new one, but I was told I needed to run out to one place to pick it up, then run out to a different place to have my data transferred.

YESTERDAY: I was only supposed to work a half day on my new project - but they ended up asking me to help longer...after I was already on my way to:

-Best Buy to drop off my personal laptop

-somewhere in Northern Virginia to get my new work laptop

-and the GAS STATION across the street to get my State Inspection done on my car....

....Why was that urgent you ask? Because I've now had two tickets for not updating my inspection and I could no longer plan my life around whether or not my car would have to be parked somewhere vulnerable to VA Police...

This is so how my life works.

So now I'm trying to do work in between all these things I'd meant to do in the morning - when I wasn't supposed to work - but it's really hard to do work ...with no computer.

And typically I'd get work emails on my personal blackberry -- but that recently stopped working too.

Again - so typical.

So after I get my inspection done, I get back to my house and continue trying to work on my dinosaur computer as much as I can until I get my new work laptop. And I walk in - and realize my fly was down the entire time I was at the gas station.

Sigh.

Then I head out to pick up my new work laptop and the following things occur:

-I try to put the Best Buy receipt for my other laptop in my car's console, while I'm driving. The console will not open. I finally yank it open at a stop light and realize I had shut it on the cord that ghetto-rigs my iPod into my radio. Ugh.

-I try to lean back and relax - and bang my knee on my steering wheel, painfully realizing we also have funny bones in our knees. I believe the State Inspection guy moved my seat up. Ugh.

-My wallet falls in the floor - and vomits coins AGAIN.

-I swerve to avoid what looks like a big rock - and I hit said rock and it makes a noise as if it just gutted the undercarriage of my car. Ugh.

-I get back and realize I may have accidentally thrown away a $25 gift certificate that was lying on my front seat. Ugh.

-but that was only AFTER I can't even GET IN MY GARAGE for a bit because some man has LEFT HIS CAR with THE DOORS OPEN in the driveway, blocking me and another car from getting in. I would've just started laughing at that point but I was too busy wishing him a painful death.

...now TODAY:

I go into D.C. to have my data transferred to my new work laptop by a nice IT guy from my company.

I come back and realize my fly was down.

YOU CAN'T MAKE THIS STUFF UP PEOPLE.

I then proceed to dig through my trash for that $25 gift certificate, then go back out to my car:

And find the gift certificate.

I also find - THE SHARK'S TOOTH (aaand we've come full circle) which I guess had fallen out of my wallet when it vomited on my floorboard. Somewhere, there are two hippies laughing...

Later, I start to go for a run and remember my left tennis shoe now has a hole in the heel and hard plastic is sticking out. I go to find my other pair - they have THE SAME(!)PROBLEM. Which means I now have to spend about an hour and a half BUYING SHOES so I can run for about 50 minutes.

So then, frankly, I was a little scared to run, because who KNOWS what would happen next??

(thankfully nothing happened and I'm now blogging to procrastinate trying to work on homework. Let's hope I don't get another virus...)

UGH.