My bad

Sometimes I really suck at driving. I mean, not in general, but we all have those momentary lapses when judgment and reason fly out the window and we do something completely dumbass -- which I did today.

After work, I ran to Walgreens and picked up a few things before heading home... like, 50 ft away.

I turn down my street and start to pull into the alley behind my apartment. And, of course, a huge white minivan (DIE, minivan) was coming down the alley without any hope of two of us fitting through there. I sighed and sat there for a minute making sure I could actually back up before getting out of their way.

Finally, I get a clearing and I slowly back up... and then someone hits my car with their fists.

Fists!

I stop short and immediately turn around to see who this asshole is. It's some tiny, middle-aged woman who was trying to get my attention because I was, ya know, about to hit her. Guess the asshole's me!

But instead of this little mishap ending there, she looks right at me and shrieks the most idiotic thing one could possibly say in such a moment.

"DID YOU SEE ME???!?"

Are you kidding? Yeah, lady, I saw you, but it's just one of my little quirks to try to plow down folks in the neighborhood. Come on! Also, you're two feet tall! I gave her the oddest look and yelled back, "UH, NO, OF COURSE NOT!" And then I did some flailing hand gestures that Italians so often do, pulled out safely and let the minivan (ugh) get out of the way.

And then I was really glad I had just picked up another refill of my Lexapro.

The end.

Another gem from Al

So, I've been playing around with the idea of throwing Dave a little party once he graduates with his PhD in May. This degree has been 6 years in the making and since I've been around the entire duration, I like to think of it as a party for both of us... But never mind that. Oh, also, Al is graduating with his Masters this summer too, but ALEX NO GET PARTY. At least, not a party thrown by me.

Anyway, today, I sent Al the link to a place I'm thinking of for Dave's little bash. And then he sent this...


Alex:

LISA
have you considered this place for dave's thing

http://www.ulcc.org/Default.aspx?p=DynamicModule&pageid=309675&ssid=198220&vnf=1

Because you're too lazy to click the link, here's a picture of the place he suggests:

Me:

Oh hai I'm not made of money

Alex:

oh hai i upgrade your ram

BUT THE STENCILED 28 FOOT CEILING BEAMS!

Me:

Well, that's lovely.

But the general rule is this: if it's nice enough that weddings can be thrown there, it is out of my budget.

Tell Dad that's where you want your own party

2 YEARS MASTERS DEGREE BOW DOWN

Alex:

hahahahaha

f yes

my party is going to put yours to SHAME

Me:

You'd better not have yours on the same night, you asshole

Alex:

im inviting the governor. beat THAT

Me:

I'm inviting Obama

Alex:

im inviting jesus

OH WAIT SAME PERSON

Me:

HA HA

I'm inviting John McCain riding a dinosaur

Alex:

i would invite charlie sheen but he'll probably break everything

so instead im inviting john wayne's corpse driving a delorean drinking a four loko

Me:

You #win

If his brain weren't the size of a pea, he'd be ashamed

I, like most dog parents, take an obscene amount of pictures of my dog. And, apparently, I take way, way more pictures of him when Dave is gone and not here to stop me.

Case in point:

Awkward cuddles with Aunt Suz

Playing video games

Almost setting himself on fire

Skyping with daddy

Parenthood FTW.

A relationship rant for Thursday

Just once, I would like to see an article on relationships/marriage that doesn't take cheap shots or use passive-aggressive (uh, or straight-up aggressive) language for the other side.

Two examples...


Why You're Not Married
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/tracy-mcmillan/why-youre-not-married_b_822088.html

• "The problem is not men. It's you."
• "You're a bitch."
• "Working around a man's fear and insecurity is big part of what you'll be doing as a wife."
• "You're shallow. / You're a slut. / You're a liar. / You're selfish."
• "A good wife, even a halfway decent one, does not spend most of her day thinking about herself."

Message: You're single because you're kind of awful and no man wants someone like you. (He wants a smiling, perky little thing to do his laundry, feed his ego and put him first.)


An Open Letter to the Women Who Are Telling Me It's My Fault I'm Not Married
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/brienne-walsh/an-open-letter-to-the-wom_b_829378.html

• "As I was leaving, she said to me, with a great deal of kindness: 'You're pretty, and you're smart. It's a curse. You'll have a lot of difficulty finding a man.' It could have been crushing, if I wasn't aware of it already."
• "In essence, in order to participate in the ritual custom of marriage, we have to become shadows of our best selves."

Message: You're not married because you're too awesome, too pretty, too educated, too powerful and too much of a fucking delight. (Those empty married folks? They didn't have much else going on in the looks or career department, so they got hitched instead.)


Sigh. Do you really know why you're not married? Me neither. And neither do these authors. And neither does anyone else. Except maybe Jessica Ravitz, who sums it up with a no-nonsense: "Sure, you might be a bitch, a slut, a liar, shallow, selfish or not good enough. Maybe, though, you happen to be 41 and single because life, real life with all its complications, has just worked out that way. So far."

That goes for everyone, married or not: life just worked out that way.

I believe I'm married because my life worked out in a way that I found Dave when I was young. It feels more like dumb luck than anything I planned, did or didn't do. And I'm getting annoyed with articles that ignore the role of luck while simultaneously taking a shit on women on the other side of the marriage line. I know women who are happy being married and women who are happy being single, and I also know that it's absurd to shove us all in the same box, toss around a bunch of labels and draw black-and-white conclusions based on little more than insufferable superiority.

So stop it.

/rant

It's the little things

Currently finding happiness in:

• My dog wanting so many cuddles that he interrupts my pilates by sitting ON TOP of me -- ab workout be damned.
• Cleveland vacation plans that include manis, pedis, massages and booze with my sister-in-law and mother-in-law.
• Parking in the lot at work -- not way down the street -- while most people are on hiatus.
• The anticipation of spring and warmer weather.
• Those mini wine bottles that allow us to get buzzed without wasting an ounce of Pinot.
• My freelancing pay raise.
• Hulu episodes of Pretty Little Liars.
• Playing Call of Duty with Ben and the boys (they're so good, even my shittiness can't make us lose).
• Searching Craigslist for outrageous apartments out of my price range.

Comedy of errors

My brother came over tonight. Being the good sister I am, I offered to drive him home when he needed to leave. We left my apartment at 10:15pm. I got back home 2 hours later.

2 HOURS.

Here's how it went down...

We hop into the car with the dog at 10:15. Al gets Rocco settled, turns on the defrost and turns on the seat heaters, while I brush all the snow off the Jetta. The 3 of us have a leisurely ride to Wrigleyville and I drop him off without incident.

On my way home, Rocco jumps into the front seat as he always does. And sits down like a person as he always does. And triggers the PUT YOUR SEATBELT ON NOW beeping... as he always does. We ride back to the west side with that damn alert going off every 30 seconds.

We get home and I pull into my parking space. I grab my purse, toss Rocco's leash back on and get out of the car. My clumsy little bull tries to get out of the car, somehow gets his foot caught and yelps excessively.

I dropped to the ground to console him. After a few minutes, he's fine and I take him around the side of the apt to do his business before we go to bed -- which he does. As we're walking back to my place, I fish around in my purse for my keys.

No keys.

I fish around some more.

Where the shit are my keys??

I walk back to the car and start digging through the seats. No keys. I put the dog back in the car so I don't have to worry about him while I'm searching. Still no keys. Maybe I dropped them when I took him to poo, I think.

I get out of the car (Rocco still in) and walk over to his spot. Of course, no keys there either. So I walk back to the car and go to open the driver's side door.

It is locked.

It is locked with my dog in the car.

My stomach churns. I look at Rocco. He looks at me. I try the door again. Locked. Oh good god. Now is the time when I regret getting a keyless, auto-lock vehicle.

I go around to the passenger side door and by some miracle, it is not locked. I have no idea how, nor do I care. I get in the car, call my brother and tell him I'm driving all the way back to Wrigleyville to get his set of keys to my place.

And so we set off again.

During the drive, Rocco once again sits in the passenger seat and triggers the seatbelt alert for the next 20 minutes. Another fun thing is that I turned right onto a street while the light was yellow and alllllll sorts of flashes went off. So, I'm probably getting a $100 ticket too.

At this point, it's about midnight and the dog and I are both exhausted. (Him more than me because I'd slipped him a Benadryl in his dinner earlier.) I grab my keys from Al, drive back home and manage to avoid any more issues.

Let's recap my night:
Drive Al home.
Get back, freak out like the dog broke his leg.
Realize I lost my apt keys.
Almost lock the dog in the car.
Get caught by an intersection camera.
All within a 2 hour period.

And now I must go to bed. Roc passed out the second we got home while I relayed these events to Dave over Skype. Tomorrow, I bet I find those damn keys in the bottom of my purse.

Miss Independent

Me:

ALEX

Alex:

ya whatup

Me:

I parallel parked

Alex:

WHOA

WHOA

WHOA

WHOA

Me:

I KNOW

All by myself

1 try

Alex:

HOW MANY THINGS DID YOU HIT

Me:

NONE

Alex:

WHO DID YOU KILL

Me:

NO ONE

Alex:

I AM CHECKING CHICAGOBREAKINGNEWS.COM RIGHT NOW

Me:

I hate you

Sweet skills:

Okay, so it was a massive space. Baby steps.