Hocking a Loogie from a Moving Vehicle

This is one of those stories that can only be told on a blog, because it’s a little weird and embarrassing.

When I was a kid, I thought it was pretty cool that my dad could be driving, cough up a loogie, roll down the window (pre-automatic windows), and hock his loogie out of the car. It isn’t something I meditated on or anything. I just thought it was impressive.

So… when I turned 16, I thought I should give it a try. As a teenager, new to driving (I was probably 17 in actuality, because I didn’t really want to drive), I decided to try to follow in my father’s footsteps. I was getting over a cold, so my loogies had some impressive body to them. I coughed it up, rolled down the window, and hocked the thing… and the wind caught ahold of its impressive mass and blew the thing right back into the car. Sorry, Mom – I was driving the Saturn VUE at the time, which wasn’t mine. I promise I cleaned it up as best as possible. Yes, I’m disgusting, and I apologize.

You’d think I would’ve learned my lesson, but every now and then, I’ll cough up a loogie that I’d really like not to swallow, because that’s so gross, and I’ll think, I’m all growed-up now, I’m sure I can do this.

Without fail, I’ve hocked every loogie into the wind, which has blown it back into the car… except for a week ago…

It was possibly the greatest triumph of my life when I saw that thing fly out the window and disappear from my life. I can mark that one off the bucket list! 🙂

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When I Don’t Have a Roommate

Roommate Kendra has a job in Phoenix. When that occurred, I really thought she’d be moving out within months. I even initiated a conversation with her about lowering her rent, but she said she didn’t want to do that…

Well, okay – if you want to keep paying half of my mortgage without actually living with me, I guess that’s you’re choice.

The plan was for Kendra to come home every weekend, which she did for like one month. Now, she hasn’t been home since October.

Being that I haven’t lived alone for 6 ish years, I’m currently really amused at the changes in my behavior without Roommate Kendra around.

1. I do the dishes once a week. I pile the sink to overflowing, so that the kitchen isn’t even functional, and then I do the dishes.
2. I shower a lot less. I know it’s ridiculous, but I don’t think I’d shower much at all if it weren’t for my need to seem clean and presentable to others.
3. I play a ton of video games.
4. I listen to a lot of sermons playing on my cell phone.
5. I go up and down the stairs to get exercise/sit at the top of the stairs/try to be a ninja /whatever…

At some point here, I think Kendra will tire of paying rent at a place where she doesn’t live. And I may need a replacement roommate. However, I’m feeling like I’m getting too old for this. It’s such a hassle getting used to another person and her habits…

The Car Accident and Singleness in the Church

I got into a minor car accident last night. I was in the Walmart parking lot, contemplating the changes to my personality that may prevent me from every shopping at Walmart ever again in my whole life. I’m beginning to hate that place.

I was in the lane to exit the parking lot and turn right onto a relatively busy road. There was a j-wad blocking our vision because he intended to make a left across three lanes of traffic and he was pulled way farther forward than was necessary.

The car in front of me hit their gas, so I let off on the break and tried to see around the j-wad blocking my view, and I coasted forward, right into the car in front of me’s bumper. Evidently, they gave it gas, and then hit the brake.

We got out, and I apologized. We all checked our bumpers and, seeing as I didn’t even leave any paint on theirs, we told each other to have a good evening, and we drove away.

I would like to thank God that I’ve never had to submit a car insurance claim. I’ve got no tickets or accidents on my record… hallelujah!

The incident caused me to hate Walmart even more than I already hated it… all I really wanted was a few light bulbs, a space heater, and some garbanzo beans. I usually shop at Trader Joe’s, but sometimes you actually need to purchase something from a stupid place that has 42 options for which type of pen you want.

Oh well, nobody got hurt, I found everything I needed and wanted, and all is well.

__________________________________

As a side story, there is a new guy attending my church, and I had one of those moments that made me want to punch Christian culture in the crotch.

I have been running the coffee bar at my church, which is nice because I get to meet people without having to initiate anything. However, I had not met the new guy, because he hasn’t been drinking the coffee. Being that he’s the only new person of many who I hadn’t yet met, I made sure to join a conversation he was in and introduce myself.

When I did that, the other person in the conversation made an excuse to go do something else…

In all fairness, this is obviously not something isolated to Christian culture, but really?

I totally wasn’t trying to flirt with him. I felt like I’d shirked my responsibility by not introducing myself prior to that day.

So, we talked a little, and he turned out to be applying for residency at Banner Medical in Neurology. While that’s cool, and I can see why people think that makes him appealing, I’m really hoping no one thinks what I know they’re thinking… that, “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

Or something like that… that quote is the opening line of Pride and Prejudice, and it’s meant as sarcastic and humorous. If anyone tries to talk to me about the prospects of me dating and marrying this guy, there’s a distinct chance that I’ll say something rude and offensive.

I Found My Bonhoeffer!!!!

The funny thing is that I looked on top of the chair. In fact, I removed everything from the top of the chair to ensure it wasn’t hidden underneath a grocery bag. You see, that chair is my just-walked-in dumping grounds. Everything goes on top of that chair.

As you can see….

   
    
 
I almost moved on to the next book, but I am overjoyed that there’s no need.
Happy Halloween!

The Dreams of Summer

I have had two dreams about Better Midler in recent weeks. These dreams occurred on different nights, and didn’t seem to be connected to each other thematically (other than the fact that they featured Bette Midler). I don’t remember the first dream very well, and I only remember bits and pieces of the second dream.

I loved Bette Midler as a child. I think this was mostly because of the films in which she acted. For instance, I LOVED the film FOR THE BOYS. I know it’s odd of me to have loved this film as a 10 or 11 year old child, but I did. I think I loved it mostly because I knew there were grown-up things about it I didn’t fully understand, but I also loved the music and the complicated relationships the film portrays. I loved the history. Hocus Pocus is another Bette Midler film that I adored. Big Business and Beaches were also pretty delightful. I used to play with my Barbies (yes, I admit I played with them well into Jr. High and possibly even High School) and I’d have them sing Bette Midler songs on a Fischer Price tape player I had that came with a microphone that was not to Barbie’s scale at all, but imagination can compensate for such things when we’re young.

Anyways, my most recent dream of Bette Midler had the two of us lazing around with nothing to do. I think we were just watching tv, talking, drinking tea, lounging, etc… There was a casualness to our interactions that felt unusual for the fact that we didn’t actually know each other – even in the dream.

However, at one point, I said something complimentary of Bette Midler, and she took it as something that anyone would say to her because she’s sooooo famous, and she told me that she distrusted the compliment’s sincerity. I decided that meant that I needed to gush to her about how wonderful she actually is… I reminded her that no one but her could have been such a touching and sentimental last guest for Johnny Carson AND made a joke upon receiving a Golden Globe Award that went something like, “I’ll show you a pair of Golden Globes…”

Bette Midler was rather impressed with my knowledge of her career, and thanked me for the compliment, realizing it wasn’t coming from just any old fan.

And then I woke up.

What does it mean, I wonder?

One of the Many Reasons I’m not iPhone Material

When I got the iPhone, I knew it was a mistake. I knew Siri was going to piss me off by assuming I mean what I don’t mean. I knew I was going to misunderstand data and apps. However, it’s always the ones you don’t consider that come back to bite you later.

I got an iPhone 5s (I think), which basically means that my phone has fingerprint security hooplah. At first, I was all, “No – I’m totally not even going to have a password on the thing. I’ve got nothing to hide, and nobody is going to try to break in to get all of the wonderful ebooks I’ll check out for free from the library.”

Then, I was all, “Okay, this is going pretty well – maybe I should play with my phone a bit.”

That’s how I got very excited about the fingerprint thing. Did you know that only one of your fingers will work? I knew fingerprints were all unique, but I think I also thought there was some sort of pattern to it… like my left thumb would be the mirror of my right. Well, only my right thumb was authorized to get into my phone. I thought that was pretty cool because Jack Bauer would have to cut off both of my thumbs if he wanted to use them to access my phone (and it was separated from my dead body… and I was a terrorist… okay, so I clearly live in a land of fiction). Then I thought about how unrealistic 24 really was because Jack Bauer never cut off both thumbs…

Anyways, iPhone then asks for a 4-digit passcode in case the thing can’t read my right thumb for some reason.

Usually, my 4 digit codes are 1984… the book, not my bday year or the first 4 digits of one of my credit cards. However, with Jack Bauer on the mind, I couldn’t have a lame passcode. So I thought long an hard about all of the 4-digit numbers I know, and I chose the most unguessable one I could remember.

Then, I didn’t use the passcode at all because I could use my thumb print.

Then, my iPhone wasn’t doing something I wanted it to do… it was being slow, which I think had to do with its attempts to connect to the neighbor’s internet that’s unprotected, but shoddy.

So I shut the thing off.

Then I turned it back on.

Then it refused to take my thumbprint because it evidently requires the 4-digit passcode on restart.

What was my code again?

So I started entering every code I could remember. And none of them worked. With each progressive fail, iPhone got more and more stubborn about letting me back in, “Try again in sixty seconds…” “Try again in five minutes…” “Try again in fifteen minutes…” “Try again in an hour…”

And in my mind, I was like, “You bitch!” I have an interview tomorrow and I need Google Maps! How will I ever find Broadway and Kolb without Google Maps?! If I don’t get this job, it will be your fault! If the bank forecloses on my house, it will be entirely your fault, Siri! I’m going to die sad and alone because of you! I hate you, iPhone!”

I’m not gonna lie, I was more pissed at that phone than I’ve ever been at a person.

However, now that I’ve successfully completed my interview to be an Associate Editor for an advertising agency, I feel better. Now, I’m at the library, using their wifi to restore the damn factory settings on my idiot iPhone, and then I intend never to set up a passcode or thumb print again unless I have no other option.

Damn SmartPhones! Can’t I go back to living in the ’90s, when things were normal?

Striking Out, Looking

I’ve recently several sin-able opportunities that I have not taken. And the not sinning feels like the first novel I ever attempted to write. Its title was Striking Out Looking.

In softball and baseball, striking out looking is the equivalent of an unpardonable sin. You don’t do it. You go down swinging… that’s forgivable. Even going down swinging at a terrible pitch is forgivable. However, right before I gave up softball, I was thinking about how wise it is in life to be willing to occasionally watch strike three go by. Recently, I was given some advice that mirrors that idea of just letting a pitch go by, and it reminded me of that tension between what feels right, and what actually is right.

My novel was about teenage love, so, of course it was cliché and overdone, so don’t judge me my over-romatic premise here. High school sweethearts are heading off to college, and boy has bought the ring. He loves her and doesn’t want to lose her… and yet, right on the edge of the proposal, he realizes that if he really loves her, he has to let her go. So… he let’s the pitch go by and she moves away, ending their romance forever.

Tragic. Dramatic.

I know.

But I liked examining that feeling of intentionally not going after something, because it’s not always right to knock that pitch out of the park.

Just now, I had one such moment.

There’s a man who I want, and maybe God talked me into quitting my job to get away from him, and I’m trying to move on because he’s not a Christian, and therefore strictly off-limits.

Just now, though, there was this thing I was reading, that would have been the greatest quote I could ever send him. It would be so clever. It alludes to some inside jokes we have going. It’s basically the most brilliant thing I’ve ever come across.

Also, I sooooo love texting people quotes. I love quotes.

But. I. Can’t. Text. This. One.

I can’t.

It’s a terrible pitch for me to go after. I’d knock it out of the park, for sure.

But I had to let it go, which should make me feel incredibly proud, probably, because I don’t think most people would let this one go. But I don’t feel proud much at all. I’m just sad, because it’s been a really long time since I’ve gotten to take a legit swing at a pitch.