RaNDom Musing #8 (Sep 2010): Jet Pack?!

So...you know those "EXCELERATOR" hand dryers in the bathroom?  You know, the ones that are SUPER loud, but dry your hands SUPER well?!

I was looking at one last night in the bathroom of the Capital City Brewery and my friend and I discussed our theories on what would happen if you strapped that sucker to your back?

Looks and sounds like a jet pack to us...

*just sayin*

RaNDom Musing #7 (Aug 2010): IS one the loneliest number...?

Soooo - the song "One" by Three Dog Night just came up on my playlist and I pose this question: IS one the loneliest number?

Thoughts?

Hmm...

PS: If anyone ever gets a legit copy of the band Mastodon's cover of the song "One" (you know the version used in the EA game Army of Two?) PLEASE let me know.  Don't know what I'm talking about, see here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=larWIi0I0VA&feature=related

RaNDom Musing #6 (Jul 2010): I Pity the New Cadets...

When I stepped out of my house at ~0545 this morning and it was already miserably muggy and hot I almost felt sorry for the poor new cadets going through BEAST (aka Cadet Basic Training). 

Note: I said almost. 

Shout out to the Class of 2003 - Hottest BEAST EVER!

That is all.

Out.

RaNDom Musing #5 (Jul 2010): Handicapped Tags on a Motorcyle?!

So no kidding, there I was waiting behind a motorcycle to get into the parking garage this morning.  As the guy sifts through his pockets to get out his parking pass I notice that the motorcycle has handicapped license plates...WTH?!

Okay so I have two issues with this:

1) If you NEED HC plates, should you really be riding a motorcycle?

2) If the HC plates are all about getting prime parking, dude, you're on a motorcycle - you can fit that sucker virtually anywhere.

(Don't believe me about the tags...go down to the lower level garage and exit on the left set of doors...the motorcycle is parked in the first HC parking spot)

RaNDom Musing #4 (Jun 2010): Scarred Fruit.

Am I the only one that's freaked out by scarred fruit? 

Take today for instance, I had cherries with my lunch, and I absolutely refused to eat any with deep scars. 

Seriously. 

Who knows what's hiding in those scars?  Plus it feels gross in my mouth.

On another note, if I ever fall into a Lion or Tiger pit - I hope the big cats are just as discriminating about scarred food, because I've got some pretty good scars...

*just sayin*

RaNDom Musing #3 (Jun 2010): Abnormally Sized Food...

So - my co-worker was eating his Lean Cuisine "Spa Edition" today.  It was Lemongrass Chicken and it smelled SO good, but it had baby corn in it...

I don't like abnormally sized food. 

I don’t like baby corn because it's small and it weirds me out.  Or what about those super-huge strawberries that are the size of apples?! 

Major freak out.  Weird. I know.

RaNDom Musing #2 (Jun 2010): Meh. Stick It.

So - you've all seen those "stick family" car window stickers, yes?!  (If no visit this link http://www.familystickers.com/family-stickers/default.asp). 

At first I thought they were kinda ridiculous, but they've grown on me...especially once you see the outfits and accessories available for the stick chicks!!  Anywho, the other day I was recovering from a run through my neighborhood and I saw a stick family that was just a stick guy, stick chick and a stick cat.  I was all like *pffttt* that's SO weak! 

But then I realized that MY stick family would just be a stick chick wearing a cute suit...and that's it.

Meh.  Stick it.

RaNDom Musing #1 (Apr 2010): The Letters "G" and "T"

The letters T and G are very close to each other on a keyboard. This recently became all too apparent to me and consequently I will never be ending a work email with the phrase "Regards" again...there goes the Diversity Competency...*

*Our firm's competency assessments includes diversity and your acceptance of others.

{mis} Adventure #7 (circa July 2008): Iritis -- What the Heck is THAT?!

So there I was, playing musical boxes in the apartment.  Sunday, I had to move the remaining boxes, reserved for my DITY move, to the center of the bedroom and living room so the painters could come paint the walls on Monday and Tuesday.  Wednesday, I had to clear out everything from the bedrooms and move them to the living room so the carpet could be replaced.  And tonight?  Tonight, I have to put move everything that I just put out in the living room back into the bedrooms so the cleaning service could buff, wax and clean-the-heck-outta the floors!

Oh, that iritis bit?  Well, I was trying to hang a strappy tank top on a wire hanger (a heavy duty hanger at that), but it kept sliding off of the sides of the hanger.  Soooo...I attempted to do what I've done MANY times over, which is bend the ends of the hanger upward so the dern tank top would stay on the hanger.  Well, this hanger was not having it -- not only would the silly thing not bend, BUT as an equal and opposite reaction to my bending attempts, the top c-curved "hangy" part propelled forward at a high rate of speed and...*WHACK!*  The hanger POPPED ME IN THE EYE!!

*OUCH* and *welp*...

Thankfully my eyelids did what they were supposed to do when threatened, they rushed to the clenched shut position.  Meanwhile, I see the brighter-than-a-supernova flash of light upon impact of the hanger to my eyelid-covered left eyeball and socket.  That sucker hurt SO badly that I cried.  Well, I mean my eye instantaneously teared up, but I was boo-hooing as well.  About five minutes later, I was able to bring myself to open my eyes and see if I could, well, see! 

*phew*

"I can see!!" 

"Hallelujah, praise the Lord!"

I grabbed some ice and iced the sucker.

Later that day and on into the night, I realized that my eye was light sensitive and not just when it was open, but when it was close and the other one was open the other little sucker hurt too!  W-T-H?!  Well, I had to drive over the mountain and into the sun (*owwww*) to get to the ophthalmologist sick call to figure out what was up. 

Long story short, according to the Doc my contact actually protected my eye and received all the scratches that the hanger intended for my eyeball.  However, my iris still sustained blunt trauma (remember that bright light I saw upon impact?).  Since the iris is apparently a muscle (as the controller of the pupil size) it was suffering a pain not unlike that after being punched in the calf.  Any movement afterward just HURTS!  Walking is to irritiating that calf muscle as looking at anything but a pitch black room is to irritating the iris (muscle)...since your pupils shouldn't dilate independently of each other, even though my eye was closed, its pal was still causing some muscle movement and pain!

Anywho, I now have the eyeball version of a muscle relaxant (those eye drops they use to dilate you) and must keep them dilated for the next 2-3 days.  I must admit, my eye does feel much better!  But I did have to wear those goofy roll-up sunglasses for my award ceremony today...*meh*.

{CLOUD}:  It's not fun when you get popped in the eye out of nowhere...

SILVER LINING: ...but it is kind of cool when you learn something new from the experience.

Oh, and just in case you don't believe me about the iris muscle thing? 
Check this link out: http://www.emedicinehealth.com/iritis/article_em.htm

{mis} Adventure #6 (circa Nov 2007): A (not-so) {mis}Adventure in Portland, Oregon

Actually, this one is not quite a misadventure at all...this was a FUN encounter in an unlikely place...PDX--otherwise known as Portland International Airport.

So I'm chillin', killing time (I'm talking FIVE HOURS) between my arrival at the airport and my flight back to LaGuardia via Chicago O’Hare.  So I've set-up shop at a table in the food court eating area (read: I turned the four-person seating area into my own personal office space).  My laptop is out, I'm hammering away at my AAR (after action report) for this most recent trip & some other jazz...

...then it happens, a lone traveler's worst nightmare – I had to pee.  So then came the moral/ethical/lazy-girl's dilemma:  

Pack ALL my crap up, risk losing prime real-estate next to the only electrical outlet in a 1 mile radius (c'mon you know how stingy airports are with electrical outlets – and maybe it’s just a quarter-mile radius, but still) JUST to go to the restroom for all of 3-5 minutes lugging my two pieces of carry-on luggage and assortment of a coat, jacket, sweater and a scarf??

OR

Ask the two guys at the table in front of me if they'll mind watching my stuff for a second...

Well I chose the latter and approached the two guys (who I'll later learn are Justin & Tone) and asked if I could ask them an "awkward" question....'could you please watch my stuff?'  "Awkward?" you all think to yourselves.  What’s awkward about that?  Well in this day of terrorism & heightened security, I've actually witnessed one traveler call the TSA on another that asked him to watch her bags...so yeah, “awkward”.

Long story short, these guys were actually from Brooklyn…they're an underground rap group (called Iller than Theirs)…they were hella fun and their music is actually good.  We ended up hanging out at our gates & just BS-ing about anything and everything.

Anyways, I got a copy of their debut album, and -- surprise, surprise -- I actually LIKE it!!  If you're interested...check out their blogspot* (illerthantheirs.blogspot.com) and and if you like any of it check their songs on iTunes, or the whole album –  I have their CD and there are some songs that I really dig; like After All.  The best thing about this group is that not only do I like their sound, the lyrics are thoughtful... 

Probably my BEST misadventure EVER!!

* Note I updated this blog to reflect the current websites and info - other than that, the rest was written circa Nov 2007.

{mis} Adventure #5: ¡Habla inglés, por favor!

Why me?!

Okay, so there I was, riding the Las Vegas McCarran rental car shuttle to go pick-up my rental car.  A group of 5 men of Hispanic descent enter the bus and are having their conversation in VIVID Spanish.  I pick up a word here and there and am amused by their animated gestures.

As we are getting off the bus, I hand one of the guys his bag.  He says "Gracias" and I of course reply "De nada".  Because of my impeccable accent, he assumes I am a Spanish speaker and asks, "Hablas español?" and I reply "Hablo un poquito".  What ensued is exactly what I get for trying to showcase my limited Spanish skills.  The following conversation has been translated from English to Spanish for your reading ease.

So the guy ignores the part about me only speaking a little Spanish and starts to ask me where I'm from originally and I tell him Trinidad.  He asks me why I'm in Vegas, if it's for vacation and I say, no, for work.  Some other small talk ensues, we part ways, and I head to the rental car counter.

Well…the guy comes over to the rental counter as I'm done and asks the girls behind the counter if they speak Spanish.  Of course they don't which - after coming from Tucson where everything was almost in Spanish FIRST - seemed weird to me.  I tell them I'll attempt to translate and we start a back and forth with the details.  We asked the guy if he has a reservation, if the rental company has the vehicle type he wants...yadda, yadda, yadda.  In the end, it was a bust – he specifically wanted a Toyota Sienna…they had none.  I realized later, that he didn't need the vehicle because his boys had already gotten one; he was just there to talk to me.

As we ‘round the corner he asks me what I'm doing Tuesday at "ocho de la noche" because if I'm free he'd like to invite me to Caesar's Palace for dinner.  I reply "yo no sé" I don't know, I don't know…he speaks to me some more, to much of which I reply, I don't understand.  Anyways…we part ways; he does the two cheek kiss thing with the whole "mucho gusto" thing and  I'm all like, yeah, yeah, great to meet you too.

Anyways…I really am not sure WHY he's in town and if this is meant to be a one-on-one dinner setting or WHAT!  I halfway want to go out of curiosity, but I'd need to take some back-up.  There's no way I'm venturing out there by myself!! 

Ironically, what was ABSOLUTELY hilarious about the exchange is what happened AFTERward.   As I walked away, I say to myself "I GOTTA work on my Spanish" and hop in my rental car.  As I turn on the radio all the presets stations are SPANISH stations!!  The best part: after inputting the address of the hotel in the GPS and start driving, the voice (Isabel is the name the Garmin Company gave her) starts telling me the directions IN SPANISH (and I couldn't CHANGE it while driving, damned safe mode)!! 

Well that's about all, thought I would share!  J

Does that count as a {mis} Adventure?

{CLOUD}: Sometimes our cockiness can get us into situations that we don't even understand (literally)...

SILVER LINING: ...sometimes those same situations seem to work themselves out, and we can then laugh at ourselves afterall - you've just gotta be able to laugh!

{mis} Adventure #4 (circa Oct 2007): WTH?!! California has TOLLS!!

In case you didn't know, I've been in Cali since Sunday the 7th of October.  I flew into Monterey and then decided that I'd undertake the three hour drive to Sacramento.  The drive was going very well, I'd followed the directions on the rental car GPS just a-cruisin' along with about 5 minutes left in the trip when I see this sign: "Toll Plaza Ahead"

WTH?!!  Tolls?  I hadn't seen a single toll booth the entire time I was in Monterey aaaand  I only have one dollar and some change on me because, quite frankly, I use my card everywhere I go.  *sigh*  I sure hope this toll plaza accepts cards…so, I pull up to the toll booth.

Me: "Excuse me sir, I'm not from around here and I didn't realize there would be a toll booth on this road until it was too late to take an exit and get to the ATM machine.  Do you accept cards?"

Him: "No." He starts to write down the plate number of the vehicle.  "You take this and go."  He hands me a card that read something to the tune of 'This is a violation; it is against California state law for motorists to drive on a toll-road without sufficient funds to cover any tolls.  A fine of $25 will be charged to the individual to whom this vehicle is registered.'

Me: "Sir, I'm sorry—I cannot accept this.  Like I said earlier, I am not from here; I did not know this was a toll road because the sign was only posted as I approached this toll plaza.  Is there someone else that can help me, since you cannot?  Maybe someone up in that building up there?"

Him: "No, we cannot do anything to help you—take paper and go."

Me: "Sir, you don't seem to understand—this is a rental vehicle on my government travel card…I cannot have this fine applied to this vehicle!  Please, let me speak to someone else."

<A voice comes over the intercom>

Intercom Lady: "Miss, you need to move on, you should've had money to pay the toll."

Me (with Bonquisha starting to rear her ugly head): "Look, you all don't seem to understand, I didn't know about this toll and just can't have it charged to the vehicle…I'm not moving until we figure this out. 

This three way conversation ensued for what would be another 20 minutes.  Cars piled up behind mine, but I was pretty much adamant that I was not moving until either: 1) we came to an understanding or 2) I found money on my person to pay the toll.  There were even threats by "intercom lady" to call the Cali Highway Patrol.

"Go ahead—call them," was my response. 

"Intercom lady's" bluff was called…and the CHP were not. 

Me: "Look sir, it's not like I don't have money—you show me an ATM that's not on the other side of that toll booth and I'll give you your money…I just didn't have time to pull up to one before this toll!"

Hi­m: "Okay, okay, you reverse quick to that exit…there is ATM.  Go!  Go quick, now before more car come."

I start backing up & I see the exit is at least a mile back and around a dangerous curve.  I am not ready to get this rental car hit my some speeding motorist.  Instead, I back up to the toll plaza building not more than a tenth of a mile away.  For a moment, I hope "intercom lady" is scared that I'm about to come pay her a visit next to her stupid intercom button.  Anyway, what happened next would probably have been HIL-arious on film.  I was ransacking my purse, suitcase & all the pockets of ANYTHING I’d worn since being on this trip!  I managed to scrounge up four dollars worth of pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters; then drove over to toll booth once more and handed the guy the fistful of change. 

I apologized for my outburst and again let him know it was nothing personal…I just couldn't have the charge go to the rental vehicle.  I drove off and traveled the mere five minutes to my hotel—I still can't believe I was SO close, yet a half an hour's worth of drama away!

Anyways...for those of you who didn't know – there ARE tolls in California!

{CLOUD}: Life's toll booths can sometimes sneak up on ya...

SILVER LINING: ...if you dig in your heels, you may just outlast the toll booth attendant and bide some time to scrounge up enough change in your pockets to get past it, too!

{mis} Adventure #1 (circa Fall 2007): Cell Phone Charging & Imagined Serial Killers

·         Soooo—I'm watching season 3 of ER (that I bought to keep me occupied) and my phone starts chiming "warning, battery below 5%".  So, I do what I've been doing to charge my phone up since I've gotten back from T&T.  I get up, grab my keys and head to the car to plug the phone into the car charger and then...I drive.

It doesn't matter that it's midnight, it's drizzling and most of the streets have no lights on them.  Soooo, there I am, driving down one of the two-lane back roads (wait a minute, what road here isn't  a two-lane back road?), and then...what in THE?!  There's this guy, at midnight, kneeling on the side of a poorly lit (read: unlit) road either stuffing or taking something out of his backpack.  Did I mention there are only woods around him on the side of this road? He looks up & kinda catches a glimpse of my face, and I, his. So, now, I'm freaked out and I drive a little faster and hope that there's no story in the "town" news tomorrow that there was a guy found with bits and pieces of a person in his backpack…yeah.  I know.

Moving on…I get onto "Main Street"—don't let the name fool you.  I turn off onto one of the mountain roads and now, there's a pair of headlights riding my damned bumper so close he could kiss it, literally.  Soooo, I start freaking, again because, what if it's the dude with the backpack and he's coming to get rid of the "eye-witness"?!  Naturally, I kind of speed up…but am worried about doing so because the road is winding and slippery and downhill and…*phew*, the headlights turned off into that last street.

·        

Now I'm back on another unlit road with no other traffic but me…"oh God, this road feels so…so…claustrophobic (yes, I sometimes talk to myself—what? It's just me. I live alone, drive alone, handle the occasional bout of insomnia…alone)!"  Both shoulders of the road are lined with towering mountains and there's a ceiling of thick; grey; looming fog and of course my headlights barely cut through the thickness of it all…it's all rather fitting, actually.

·        

I turn off at the ramp and exit from the darkness into—well—more darkness (seriously, this town doesn't believe in street lights?) and, I…drive some more…and park in my "dark-as-an-abyss-in-the-depths-of-the-ocean" neighborhood and wait in my car for another 4 minutes (hey, my phone was not charged enough to make it through the night) and realize that my neighbors, if they were awake, would think that I have issues—but then again, who doesn't?

I get out of my car, walk into my place and write this…am I tired now?

Maybe a little.

I think I'll try to get to bed now…or not.

Goodnight all.

{mis}Adventure #3 (circa Fall 2007): The Noise

These past couple days have been crappy for me, literally.


Let's see.  I got "control" of my new apartment/condo on the 1st of September.  My mom & grandmother came up on the 3rd to help me clean & move in and my household goods got delivered on the 4th.  We did what we could all day on the 4th and my mom & grandmother held it down on the 5th until around noon.


All day on the 5th I was prepping/conducting recons of various locations that would be in use from the 6th-9th where I'd be serving as a Class Aide for the USMA Class of 1977.  So from the 6th-8th I was not home in this new apartment at all, I got into my place in the wee hours of the 9th (due to attempts at partying) and slept late into the morning.


At some point on Sunday, while in bed...I heard this gurgling, bubbling noise.  Was it my toilet? Was it the guy's water upstairs flowing down? What was it?  Who cares, need more sleep *grunt*
So I dismiss the noise, roll over and go back to sleep.


Later, I hear the noise again and jump up & try to find the source of the noise before it stops.  I checked each toilet...nothing. Then, I hear the noise AGAIN!


WTH IS IT??  So this time I check the shower...AHA!  There are traces of "debris"...*eww*


What to do?  What to do?  What to do?  Call my "landlord", who tells me to call my neighbor, who apparently had a similar issue and found someone to fix it. 


So, I call her...she says her friend will check it out for me.  Great, I'm set then – so I go to see about accomplishing some more unpacking and I smell something...


Is it me? *sniff*  No.


Is it coming from upstairs?  *sniff* No.


What IS it?


I follow my nose to my bathroom, again, and much to my dismay...there is CRAPPY water rising up from my shower and onto the bathroom floor, but wait, it gets WORSE!  How?!  The water has begun to infiltrate the pretty pink (not my choice) carpet in my bedroom!!  Oh and the other bathroom is starting to do the same & the water is seeping onto the other bathroom's floor.


Panicked, I call my mommy, of course.  She directs me to get everything off the floor at once & call her back!  I do so obediently, but really, where the HECK am I even going to put this stuff?  Everything is still in boxes – I don't even have a dern table on which to place this crap!!  I just try to move everything away from the likely overflow areas & hope for the best.


*sigh*


Long story short: I called the neighbor, who called the management, who called the emergency plumber, who fixed the problem.  Or so we thought.  This afternoon (after taking all day off from work, renting a carpet cleaner, wet vacuuming the floor and cleaning both bathrooms) I heard "the noise" again.  I think to myself, there's NO WAY!  So, I disregarded the sound because I didn't see any signs of what follows after "the noise".  Sure enough, a few hours later the shower stall is full of CRAPPY water AGAIN, but it hasn't yet overflowed. I call maintenance, who calls the plumber, who rushes right over, but not before the shower overflows onto the now, not so pretty, pink carpet...AGAIN!


WTH?!?


The plumber is dumbfounded and my apartment is jacked up, but he "fixed" it tonight and M -- someone who I've only recently befriended through coaching rugby -- actually came over to help me clean up the crap.  We have a bunch of laughs at the ridiculosity of the situation and clean into the early morning hours.  Hey, at least I still had the rental carpet cleaner and tomorrow, the maintenance crew will come over, clean my carpets, power wash the bathroom floors and brief me – well my neighbor bc I can't miss anymore work – on the plan to treat my carpet and walls for mold & mildew.  I SO don't plan on getting sick off any spores, dangit.


So, anytime you think you're having a crappy day, at least it wasn't literally crappy, like mine...


{CLOUD}: Crap happens...


SILVER LINING: ...and if you're lucky you get best friend out of those crappy situations!