The Key Is…

Today is another slow day at the office, so naturally there is nothing to do. A woman I share my little groupicle (my word for a group-cubicle) asked if I would be willing to run an errand for her. Being that I had nothing to do, I said yes and researched the nearest place that copies keys…because she needed 2 copies done of each of 2 keys to her apartment. So I wrote down the first address and some directions and found my way. Once I arrived, I was notified that in order to make copies of these particular keys I would need the “key card” that came with them. Now, not only did I not have this card but I had no freaking clue what this man was talking about, but being that is was a key store, and this guy was surrounded by keys all day and night, I figured he knew what he was talking about. Still hopeful, I returned to the office to explain what had happened to my co-worker. She didn’t understand either, so I decided to fins another locksmith/key place to try. This one was a little further but I walked there anyway and upon arriving I learned that I needed that same damn card to get these keys copied, but this time I learned that copying these keys without said card is illegal. I told them that I have had copies of these keys made before, and he told me to try a hardware store. So I searched for the nearest one on my phone and found my way. Upon arriving I found out that they do not carry the blank key that fits the set I needed copied. At this point I was a little defeated and about 5lbs lighter from sweating, so I turned around and headed back to the office. Once I explained what had happened this time, my co-worker said after lunch she would look up the address of the place she had the keys copied at once before meaning it would be a sure bet.

Wrong. So terribly wrong.

After I finished eating my co-worker handed me the address, some money, the keys and her Metro card to make my way to Times Square. I made my way there via the Subway and walked a few avenues to the hardware store. The man took the keys and then told me “oh, the locksmith isn’t in today, you can come back tomorrow.”

Let me tell you this. If I hadn’t been sweating so much, I would have started to cry because I just couldn’t win today.

So I said “oh, thanks” and walked out of the store. A few store fronts down was a weird discount looking shop and in the window was a picture of a key with a sign next to it that said “copies” so naturally I ran inside. When I asked for copies to be made, what do you think happened?

Yeah, they couldn’t copy “that type” of key.

I made my way back to the subway to go back to my office when I realized I had somehow spilt my pants right between my legs in the crotch region.

Today was a good day.

My Life in a Nutshell

Today I had an appointment at my school’s Health Services office, simply to renew a prescription for a medication I have been taking, but it certainly ended up being anything but simple. You see, I had to fill out a form about the medication (I guess it has risks) just to make sure that it was safe to continue with it. When I was reading over the sheet, it asked if I ever had chest pains, which I have had in the past, and maybe one or two times in the past few months, but I never thought anything of it. I finished filling out the forms, and sat patiently waiting for the doctor to come in. When she arrived, she reviewed the forms, and was breezing through them, until the box checked YES next to chest pains, “uh oh, now tell me about these chest pains”. Uh ohs are never good, I know this. I explained them to her, and assured her they didn’t occur often, but this resulted me in having to get an EKG right there on the spot, just to make sure everything is kosher in my system. So, I was soon bombarded by two nurses who gave me a paper gown (I love paper clothing, I’m not even joking) and told me to remove my shirt and everything else, and leave the robe on, open in the front. Woah, woah, woah, was my initial thought, but I figured it was standard procedure, so I honored the nurse’s wishes, and laid on my back, trying to come up with a reason why my life is just a series of practical jokes, glued together with a dollar-store glue stick, to form a timeline. I have yet to find a reason. Any who, the nurses came back in and wired me up. The procedure only took about 3 minutes, maybe even less, which was good because it was a very weird situation, and I just wanted to run back to my dorm and sip on a juice box. They finished up, the doctor came back in and told me I would have my results tomorrow, and that I must stay off the medication for a month. Basically, I accomplished nothing I intended to today. Just another day in the life of A Ditk, but I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings, especially since I’m donating blood, which happens to be one of my favorite things to do and I always have a fun story to tell afterwards! It’s like killing two birds with one stone, except for the fact that instead of killing I’m saving, and instead of birds, people. So, yeah, maybe it’s not like that after all.

Cheers.

This Is How I Blog

Whenever something completely, and utterly ridiculous happens in my life, or to me directly, I sit down at my computer and I blog away. Usually, the events that take place in my life make people say “NO WAY!” or “WHAT A LOSER!”…it happens, a lot. I have since gotten used to the fact that I lead a pathetic, random, FML life, and I have definitely come to terms with the fact that people spit on my feet when I walk (that happened once, it was yesterday). Everytime I blog, I tell a story–a story that people can or most likely cannot relate to. If someone tells me my blog sucks, I can just say “well, how many hits does your blog get daily?” they will say “none”, because they do not have a blog, therefore I am better and won that argument by process of elimination. Later that evening, my house will get egged.

This is how I blog.

MLIA?

Yesterday I went to an exhibition basketball game at my school with my lovely Irish friend. I had passed out on the couch beforehand, and woke up to her “meowing” like a cat. It was a little weird, but if you really knew her you’d just consider it to be normal behavior for her. Anyways, after she woke me up, I cleaned the drool off my face, and the couch, and collected me belongings. After several attempts to leave for the game because my friend kept forgetting various items such as her student ID, jacket and sanity, we were on our way. We walked up the hills, through the quad, and right to the box office. We purchased our tickets, and made our way into the stadium. To enter, one must first pass through one of the many revolving doors, so obviously we did this, and my friend decided to jump into the same section as me, leaving little to no room to move or breathe. Normally, this would be ok for the 3 seconds we’d actually be in the door, but of course having the luck that I had, we got stuck in the door for about 2 minutes due to the performance/singing of the National Anthem. Now, I understand that there should be absolute silence and consideration while the National Anthem is being performed, but since when is it ok to suffocate two human beings? I understand people die in wars for our country, but I don’t think it’s right for 2 college students to perish, due to suffocation, just for the National Anthem–just sayin’. (But actually, it wasn’t that big of a deal, we laughed at the situation and just shared air) Anyways, we made our way in, finally, and walked around half the stadium to sit in one of the designated student areas. The game ended up being pretty great because our team won by slaughtering the other–minus the blood, guts, etc. It was a good day.

“My Luck”–a continuous tale of misfortune.

So today is Monday which is usually a pretty light day for me. I have one class at 2:15 pm and then I’m done for the day, so I’m usually pretty relaxed, but for some reason today really sucks so far. It has been yet another case of my shit-tacular luck. I was woken up at about 9am by my best friend “back pain”, and couldn’t fall back asleep for about another hour or so. Once I did, I don’t know what happened, because I was sleeping, but I remember hearing weird sounds, so I think my roommate came in once or twice to print something, otherwise for all I know an alien spaceship could have invaded my dorm–whatever. I finally woke up just before noon to get some work done, and to get dressed to meet my friend at 1pm to go get free massages that our school offers on Mondays. The walk was great (cough, sarcasm). My friend was on the phone with his father the entire time, so to pass the time my hands made friends with my pockets. Finally, we arrived, but he was still on the phone. Despite this, we walked over and wrote our names down on the list–he was number 20, I was number 21–so much for “ladies first”. Once he concluded his phone call, some 5 minutes later, he apologized for the long call and we chatted for a few minutes. I was curious as to how long it would be before my name was called, so I walked over to find my name crossed out on the list. I was instantly confused. Why did someone cross my name off? What the F? I inquired, and some older woman came up to me asking me my name. I told her and she said oh yes, someone started another list before I signed my name so she moved my name to another list–I was now number 23. My friend was still number 20–why does my luck suck? To make it worse, he was called about a minute later. I sat on a bench, with strangers, watching him enjoy himself while I cursed the massage Gods under my breath. I figured I would be next, but no, obviously not–they then decided to switch to the old list, one in which my name was not on, so I had to wait about a half hour until my turn. The creepy older woman, not even an employee, who screwed my life over by switching my name to another list made eye contact with me and signaled me to take my coat off–I wanted to run away screaming rape–but then I figured she was just notifying me that my name would be called soon, sigh of relief. As predicted, my name was called and I got my massage–not worth the wait at all. Figures.

Don’t Be Alarmed, I’ll do that for you…

Another day in The Life of A Ditk means another outlandish occurrence. I was at home, in my hometown, and it was time for me to wake up in preparation for my 8:00am flight. My mom came in and woke me up, because I’m obviously not responsible enough to wake myself up at 6:45am on a Sunday, so she was put in charge of that action. Once I woke, she said something smelled, and claimed it was me (she loves me…a lot) so I was like “umm should I take a shower?” and she said “umm, yes.” So, with onlly and hour and fifteen minutes until my flight, I got into the shower. We finally left the house around 7:15, and arrived at the airport at 7:30–the time my flight was set to board. I already had my boarding pass printed out, and I was all checked in and not checking any bags, so I assumed I was all good to go, and wasn’t worried at all–then I walked inside. The security line was outrageous! It was so long–this is when I started to sweat. I waited on a line for a few minutes until I got up to the TSA officers who check IDs and make sure our last names aren’t Bin Laden, I asked them if there was any way I could expedite the security process so I wouldn’t miss my flight, and they redirected me to someone in a bright orange construction vest. The only problem was that it was borderline impossible for me to get to said worker as there were about 50 people in front of me. I pushed my way through the crowd, cutting all of them, until I found the worker and asked if I could cut ahead so I wouldn’t miss my flight. She was more than willing to help me out, so I got to one of the tables and removed my shoes, laptop, and jacket respectively and found myself waiting AGAIN because people are SO SLOW at the security line…sheesh. When all was said and done, I got to the gate at 7:40, with 20 minutes to spare. When I got on the plane I was out of breath only to find 7 other passengers on the plane…great. The only thought running through my mind at this point was that the 8 of us were hand-picked to die that day…I started sweating again. Finally my plane took off 30 minutes late, and I was on my way back to school.

So, I had just returned from my 19-hour stay at home and my friend picked me up at the airport. I decided to go right to the sorority house as I thought there would be someone awake, but I have no clue what I was thinking as it was 9:30 in the morning, on a Sunday. Once my friend went upstairs to rest, I took that as a good sign to head back to my dorm and take a nap, as I had been awake since 6:45 in the morning. I ended up falling asleep until about 1:30pm, when I then realized there was a philanthropic event taking place that I needed to be at. I dragged myself out of bed, put on the same clothes I wore on the plane earlier, and hobbled over to the event where I watched my sisters DOMINATE the competition taking first place in both events! It was so great and I was so happy!

After rejoicing about our victory, we ventured back into the house to chat and have some lunch, when one of my friends walked into the room with a play containing the most vile looking grilled cheese sandwich known to man. She told me she had to make 2 of them for one of our other sisters because she got hungry at 6:30am and had decided to eat the other sisters food, so now she had to make them over again just to be fair. So, I told her I was an expert in the grilled cheese department, and with that I went into the kitchen and got a-grillin’. I made the first sandwich with ease and was so impressed with myself–it didn’t go so well with the second one. You see, I’ve never used an industrial-style stove before, so I was unaware of how hot the pan gets, thus when I put the butter in to grease it for the next sandwich, it basically burned and created lots of smoke almost instantaneously. With that, I asked my friend, the Irish one, if she had remembered to turn the air vent on prior to using the stove to prevent the smoke alarm from going off–she said no, because she didn’t know how to. I suggested that probably wasn’t the best idea, but she assured me everything would be fine. I was placing the bread on top of the cheese and BEEEEEEP BEEEEEEP BEEEEEP–the fire alarm went off. I screamed “I TOLD YOU SO!” and then everyone, including me, ran out of the house in fire drill fashion and onto the front porch. I soon realized I had left my friend behind in the kitchen, but I also knew there wasn’t really a fire so it was ok. The firetrucks soon arrived, along with the marshall and possibly a few members of DPS, and I just sat there blaming everyone but myself. Everyone got a good laugh out of it, obviously, including the lady from National Headquarters that had just arrived to stay with us for a few days–we really know how to make someone feel welcome…or at least I do.

What a life.

An Awkward Shituation

And my life is back in the shitter…literally. So, I was in the bathroom this evening, brushing my teeth and preparing for bed, when I felt the need to go to the bathroom, so I found an acceptable stall, and took my place. I was the only one in the bathroom–and then the door opened. This would be totally ok, if I wasn’t me, but obviously I am me, so there was no controlling the situation that was about to ensure. I have a shy bladder, and can only pee if others aren’t around/can hear me do so. I don’t know where this shyness came from, because personally I’m not a shy person, but I guess that trait just didn’t migrate down to my bladder. Anyways, the girl walked in and took a spot in the stall directly next to me as I sat there, in the silence, holding it in. I waited for her to go, as once she flushed it would be noisy enough for me to relieve my bladder, but she just sat there…legit. I heard nothing for a good 2 minutes, and so I started to sweat, I was getting nervous. Finally, a sign of life–the sound of liquid hitting liquid! She was peeing! It would all be over soon and I could finally pee, right? Wrong. Obviously this story is happening to me, so with my luck, this particular girl needed to not only empty her bladder, but she needed to move her bowels as well. So there I was, sitting in a bathroom stall, sweating, holding in the urge to pee, and listening to the subtle sounds of plop plop the musical going on in the stall next to me. Just when I thought it was over, girl number 3 walks in and gets into the 3rd and final stall–seriously, just FML at this point. I decided I could no longer take it so I flushed the toilet (for no reason) ran to the sink, washed my hands, and ran into the hallway to dive into one of the “Gender Neutral” bathrooms that only had one stall–privacy. Finally I was able to empty my bladder in peace, only after turning the water on, of course, just incase anyone passing by had good hearing!