"wait car! where you going? I'm not in you!"

I’m pretty sure my car should try out for a part in the next Transformers movie. I’m planning my early retirement solely based off of how secure I am at the thought my little Jetta will be seen on the big screens near you! Or maybe I just like writing about my car.

Whichever the case, if the car doesn’t become the next Autobot newbie I might report it into police for attempted manslaughter charges.

True story.

I (finally) pulled into my driveway after work (only took an hour and a half to go 29 miles), reached into the seat next to me and collected all my crap, carefully positioned it in my arms so that I didn’t have to make more than one trip, got out, went to hit the lock button on my key and realized the car was still running. Unwilling to set everything down because it did in fact take 2 minutes to balance it all I leaned into the car, which quickly caused a reshuffle of all of my strategically placed items, reached for the keys then it happened.

The car decided it wasn’t “in for the night” and casually backed down our steeply inclined driveway knocking me down in the process and tossing my belongings across a few yards. Thinking this is pretty bad, I obviously had no idea. I check to make sure all body parts are still attached, stand up, scan the area to see just how many people I embarrassed myself in front of, and then noticed the car was still going. Backwards. Down the street. Instead of making any logical choices (chase after it, scream at it) I just stand there and watch. As if maybe I needed popcorn in hand to make it a perfect moment.

Then came the Mexican/Indian man. I’m thinking surely he’s going to capitalize on some injuries compliments of my insurance because he’s driving his work truck. Quickly, I had to retract that thought as this man became my hero for the day. He stopped his truck (in the road) and ran after my car (because he must also be part Cheetah), jumped in and stopped the mad run away Jetta!

Since I was still in my yard doing absolutely nothing to help my angry car induced situation I had to make the walk of shame three houses up to retrieve my run away property.

“When Cars Attack!” might in fact be the title of the movie I scheme up if Transformers is a flop.

tomato is a good color for me

During the summer months in Texas (and we have 11 months of summer) when it is 100+ degrees I feel the ridiculous need to be outside in the heat. Typically I try to be near large amounts of water, ignoring the fact that I can’t swim. I can happily report that I am still tan from my fake bake before my nuptial visit to Las Vegas earlier in the year so I abstain from sunscreen. Generally I also wear make up any time I set foot outside my home so that small children are not afraid, but this past weekend I thought I’d throw caution to the wind and save the last of the make up I’m trying to hoard and bare my pasty white face at the pool.

For 3 hours.

I sure was in the cool water ignorantly splashing around with my husband and step son unbeknownst to me the pain that would soon be mine.

It wasn’t until that evening when I looked in the mirror did I realize. However, I should have been tipped off by the crazy looks I got during the quick run to the grocery store after the pool.

Three days later, when I can safely touch my face without pain and finally apply make up in attempts to cover my “facial dandruff” as I have thoughtfully named it. The lesson here is that when living in Texas one should avoid all public appearances for a minimum of one week following a massive facial burn with the intention of avoiding cruel and unfortunate ridicule.

I honestly didn’t know, dang ya’ll.

driving instructor (clearly) needed

Anyone who knows me knows I’m not a parallel parker. I was fortunate enough to avoid taking a driving test at 16, probably because the instructor feared for his life at the thought of sharing a small easily destroyable space with me. I’ve decided he “passed” me through the driving test so that he could one day enjoy his grandchildren.

As a result I have spent the past twelve years avoiding situations that might require parallel parking. Easy as that may sound, living in Austin makes it damn near impossible. I however, being one that is not easily conquered, will choose to take the “high road”. That means driving around as long as it takes to find a space that I can, without shame, park my car. If that plan fails, I just return home. I probably didn’t really need to go to that appointment for those test results anyways…

I was content living with my driving “handicap” until I began my current job. We are offered two options, a parking garage to park our car in the shade or a side street that many of the Austin Bums call home which offers four elite parking spaces. For those who can parallel park.

The motivating difference is that to park in the shady garage I need to leave my house 15 minutes earlier to give myself enough time to find a spot (this is not Walmart people. You cannot sit and wait as long as you please on a car to maybe back out in the next 15 minutes), park the 3 miles (it seems) from the office, then walk inside (in flip flops, while carrying my heels, my purse, my lunch box and trying to update Facebook). Or I can leave at the normal time, park 20 feet from the door and take my time walking in. All that stood in my way were 4 parallel parking spaces.

Naturally when I show up to the aforementioned 4 parking spaces, there is one space left that I’m pretty sure was intended for a child’s tricycle. However, considering I didn’t allot for the extra time to park in the garage and attempting to ignore the early morning gawkers who apparently have nothing better to do than stand outside and watch me attempt to park, I decide there is no turning back. I must make this my Everest!

Twenty minutes later (so I actually could have parked in the garage and saved time), I successfully maneuvered my tiny car into this spot. As I stood photographing my accomplishment, it occurred to me that unless the person in front of me left first I was never getting my car out. It also occurred to me that the police might randomly search for the owner of my car to check whether the car was parked by a drunken person or a secret parallel parking genius. One or the other…

a blog is born

I decided (like twelve different times) that I should start a blog. Then I wondered what to blog about that anyone other than me or my mom would actually read.

Subsequently I got distracted by the Scrabble app on my new phone and the current “Scrabble War”, if you will, with my husband. (who by the way is winning even though I’ve decided this is “just for fun” and we won’t be keeping score, that is unless I start winning). I mean really HAT RED who thinks that is a word? Nice one husband.

I’ve mentioned casually over the past year that I needed a new cell phone and the new EVO coming out certainly didn’t help my cause. After a year of filing grievances with the complaint department i.e. whining to my husband I am now the proud new owner of an EVO. Apparently with that comes the responsibility of getting spanked at Scrabble by your husband.

Who really gets 69 points for “ZEST”?

So while sitting at my desk wracking my brain for a four letter word containing both Z and V it occurred to me that this might be something entertaining and I might receive suggestions for imaginary words in made up languages including the most difficult letters possible while ignoring the fact that when you do read this my current Scrabble dilemma will be long over.

The good thing about the apparent lack of talent in the virtual Scrabble world is that it did help me “kick start” the blog. At least I’m kicking something today while my husband and Scrabble are kicking me…