The girls were talking about air tagging their kids, and I was telling them about this Manhattan Beach woman I used to see missing flyers for. She went to LACMA with her husband, used the bathroom and then wandered off. Since she had Alzeimer’s, I was saying how she should’ve had an air tag on her or a way for someone to track her. They ended up finding her bones years later. When I was telling the story, they could see how delighted I was, and they were like, “Doesn’t all this true crime put you in a dark place?” I’m like, “You guys, I’m already there!” 😈
Years ago, I lied about how much I weighed on my driver’s license, and now I’m almost at what I refer to as my “DMV” weight LOL.
I recently lost my temporary “wallet” (a tiny ass Ikea bag that held my driver’s license, some change and a credit card). I think I left it at Texas Roadhouse LOL, but joke’s on you, I had already canceled the credit card last week and was getting mailed a new one because I got a fraud alert from CELESTIALGARDENINGSOLU, (which sounds like a place I’d make a purchase, but didn’t) plus I hated my driver’s license picture (the guy made me take off my glasses, so I kept stepping forward thinking he’d taken the photo already LOL).
Pammie came into my room holding a tiny Ikea bag, and I was like, “You found it!” but she was just giving me a little bag to put my replacement stuff in LOL.
NOTE TO SELF: Check the oven for empty pizza boxes before pre-heating it if you don’t want second degree burns. Or worse.
I was slicing up an avocado when I noticed smoke coming out of my oven. I opened it and saw that I left an empty pizza box in there like an asshole, and that shit was on fire! Instead of putting it out in the kitchen, I took the box out of the oven with my bare hands and ran across my apartment to the balcony. All the while, bits of flaming pizza box kept falling off along the way and lighting everything I hold dear to my heart on fire. My Anthropologie duvet. My area rug that I had just made an appointment to get cleaned. MY FUCKING HAND. I can live with a second degree burn, but they don’t sell that duvet at Anthropologie anymore, you guys!
I forgot my cell phone in my car last night, and I didn’t realize it till almost midnight.
Can we just take a second to talk about my parking situation??? Okay so #1 I don’t have a designated parking spot. My garage is only big enough for my landlord’s BMW, his Mini Cooper and his diamond shoes. #2 I live on a one way street. If I can’t find parking (which is always), I have to go around the block and onto one of the busiest streets in Redondo before getting back on my street. Don’t even get me started on the street sweeping that happens twice a week. Sometimes, some asshole parks in the middle of two driveways and doesn’t leave enough room to park in front or behind them. And sometimes that asshole is me. But I digress.
It was already late, and I had to park two blocks away last night, so I considered staying off the grid till morning. Plus I had already taken my bra off, so I was in for the night. But I knew I wouldn’t be able to wake up for work without all the alarms I have set on my phone, so I grabbed my sharpest pair of fabric scissors (in case some beach bum tried to get crazy) and sprinted to my car. Okay so maybe it was more of a light jog. Get off me. Not only was I running with (fabric) scissors, but I was also running with no bra on, and that’s a dangerous situation in itself, amirite?
I can never remember where I parked my car, and last night was no exception. Shi and I walked up and down the parking structure at Santa Monica Place for a good fifteen minutes before we found this Park Assist machine! Now if only I could remember my license plate number. Or find my parking stub in my purse. Is there an app for that???
Loved, loved, loved 50/50… even though my friends totally served me during this scene! Just because my car is a perpetual mess… and we often clean it out when we’re near a dumpster… and I sometimes stalk my ex boyfriends on facebook.
I found myself locked out of my house this afternoon. Bra-less.
It was my worst nightmare realized.
I went into the garage to get my bra in my car (don’t ask me why I thought it was in there), and I realized that I had locked the garage door behind me by habit. And then I realized that my bra wasn’t in my car. And then I realized that I was fucked.
I found the “I ♥ Haters” shirt Shi had given me in my trunk, so I threw that on. I knew that my bedroom window was open, but my room is on the second floor. I went into the backyard and scaled the fence like a ninja. I stood there for a few minutes staring at the gap between the roof I needed to jump on and the top of the fence where I stood. I just kept imagining myself lying on the ground with my legs broken… my “I ♥ Haters” shirt over my head, exposing me in all my bra-less glory while I waited for someone to help me. And so I decided to explore other options.
I went around the back and checked to see if I left the sliding door open after I let Rocky out. But of course, today was the one day I remembered to lock it. I didn’t think that the front window would be unlocked, since I never open it, but I checked it anyway, and it was! I took the screen door off, slid the window open and climbed inside. During all that commotion, Rocky just lay there on the couch staring at the wall. Useless!
Here’s what I’ve learned from this experience:
It’s a little too easy to break into my house.
Don’t take your bra off in your car.
Get a dog that will at least try to look alive when someone is potentially breaking into your house.
I’ve come to realize that I am useless in emergency situations.
I thought about it when I went biking downtown with my friends the other weekend… Trace and I were trailing behind, talking, and I was pedaling too fast. I kept bumping her tire on accident, and I was scared that I was going to make her fall, so I just let go of the handle bars and dove into the grass nearby. It didn’t occur to me until I was face down in the grass that all I had to do to avoid falling was put my feet down. Duh. God forbid, I blow a tire on the freeway. Yesterday, I experienced a far more serious emergency and pretty much confirmed my inability to function during a crisis. I was at work and it was almost time to leave. I heard this moan followed by a loud bang, so I got up from my seat and looked over my cubicle thinking my co-worker had fallen out of his chair. Instead, I found him hunched over his desk having a seizure and staring directly at me, helpless. I just stood there in horror, unable to move or call for help. Fortunately, my other coworkers did more than just stand there like idiots and were able to get an ambulance there within minutes. You should never hang out with me alone. I will obviously be of no help to you in an emergency.
In all this hoopla, I almost forgot that I left my iPod at the gym over the weekend. And that I had to buy another iPod—my third in three years (the first one destroyed in the great purse disaster of 2005). I forgot that I lost 6,000 songs. And that all my pictures from Hawaii were on that iPod. And that someone is out there listening to my Baby Makin’ playlist and looking at unedited photos of me in a bathing suit.
Anyone who knows me is familiar with what some people refer to as “mayanisms.” It’s those little things I do that make me ME… and you love me for it (though your ass would never admit it). I always miss phone calls because I can never find my cell phone in the abyss that is my purse. I don’t realize that I’ve lost your $350 digital camera, because I was far too busy eating birthday cake (and too drunk off of margaritas) to notice it was no longer attached to my wrist at a party full of southsiders that none of us knew. The mayanism I pulled last week was probably the worst one I’ve ever done… The great purse disaster of 2005. It still hurts to talk about it. Okay so it was a Friday and I was craving Phil’s BBQ so I called some friends up and we all met there around seven. Michelle had to go somewhere after dinner, so I drove separately so I could bring Skokie and Raul home after. I missed a turn and got lost, so I called Skok and he told me I shouldn’t be allowed to drive anywhere. It’s true… but it didn’t help my situation. By some form of miracle, I found my way to Phil’s on my own… Trace, Nina, Brent, Vince and Brandon were still eating since they got there after us, so Skokie, Raul and Jay were gonna go back home to Eastlake with me. Let me mention that my car is always a mess. Everyone knows this. I always bring extra clothes with me in case I want to change into my yoga pants or something LOL. Anyway, so all these clothes are strewn all over the backseat of my car, and I put my purse on top of my car so I could move everything to the trunk. Jay and Raul get into the backseat, I get in the passenger side and Skokie starts driving… We were having SUCH a good time. Jay amazed us by singing the ENTIRE Perfect Strangers theme song and then further amazed us with the Gummi Bears theme song. We were laughing so hard, and I was thinking… I gotta call Edgar and tell him about this. I go to get my phone and notice my purse isn’t in the front seat. I check the backseat and it’s not there, either… I had Skok pull over and we checked the trunk and it wasn’t there. Then it dawned on me… I left it on top of the fucking car! I couldn’t believe it… but really… I could. I would do something like that. Not one person was surprised when they found out about what happened. We went back to Phil’s and Skok and Raul looked around the outside of the restaurant while Jay and I walked down the street we took to the freeway. Jay starts running, because he saw my purse in the middle of the road… being pummelled by car after car after car. He ran into the street and grabbed my purse, but nothing was in it but a shattered bottle of floozey red nail polish. Everything else was scattered all over the street… my beloved prescription Gucci sunglasses, iPod, digital camera and brand new (uninsured) cell phone… all broken beyond repair. We were all standing on the side of the road watching the cars pass, occasionally running into the street to pick up my credit card.. my driver’s license.. my debit card.. Skokie was THISCLOSE to getting hit by a car. He was like a deer caught in headlights… I guess it could’ve been much worse… nothing lost was irreplaceable. It just pains me to have to replace it all. Sad times.