I Am Very Good at Annoying Mechanics

Or: I Had to Get Work Done on My Car Today and This Blog Post Is Very Short Due to My Lack of Lunch Break

I’m going on a road trip soon. I’m not going to tell you when. But road trips mean getting my car checked out, my oil changed, my tires rotated, and my alignment adjusted.

I love my car. It looks like a bubble. It is an ugly doodle, though.

I love my car. It looks like a bubble. It is an ugly doodle, though.

This is not just because I am a responsible adult. It’s also because I love my car with a fiery passion. It’s a tiny Nissan Versa. It looks like a bubble. I bought it new, and for the first many months of its life, I did all the maintenance on it.*
*Under the express supervision of my father, who cannot quite figure out how I can get completely covered in oil when doing things like checking my coolant.

What, do you not have a special head accessory for car care?  You are so weird.

What, do you not have a special head accessory for car care?
You are so weird.

But when I got my fancy job and moved into my beloved apartment, I could no longer work on my car. That kind of wildly independent-woman behavior is frowned upon, apparently.**
**Probably by super sexist insurance companies who are concerned abotu things like “safety” and “liability.”

So I take my car to a mechanic.

My mechanic also has  fancy car-care headwear. Because neither of us are weird.

My mechanic also has fancy car-care headwear.
Because neither of us are weird.

This makes me jealous. But it also transforms me into a small, irritating child.

Don't try this at home, kids.

Don’t try this at home, kids.

And that is why my mechanic finishes my car super quickly every time I go in. But it’s also why he rolls his eyes every time I come in.

Kids on road trips have nothin’ on me.

The Saddest Wednesday

Hi guys.

HIHIHIHIHIHI!

Hi hi hi hi hi!

I have very tragic news. I am very busy today* and so I cannot blog.
*But not especially important today, despite what that busy-ness implies. Don’t be fooled.

I'm upset, too.

Yeah….

It’s pretty tragic.

Sticklet: Queen of the Doodles

It’s ok, Sticklet. We’ll have adventures tomorrow.**

**And by adventures, I mean retellings of embarrassing and awkward things that happen in my life.

Sorry, guys. See you tomorrow.

Spring in the South Is a Festering Pit of Debauchery

Or: I’m Really Allergic to the South

I have lived in a lot of different places across the good ol’ U.S. of A. I’ve been to even more states.

Hurray for the USA!

Pink is where I’ve lived, green is where I’ve been, and beige states obviously don’t exist in reality because I haven’t been there yet. Sorry, most-of-the-middle-of-America.
Click for original map-source.

In all the places I’ve lived, I’ve never once suffered from allergies of any kind.

Until I came to the South.

Things are beautiful here. Right now, the sun is shining, and it’s better than 60 degrees outside. The breeze is cool and the trees and the grass and the flowers are starting to bloom.

Should be is the key term here

Hurray nature! This is how the weather SHOULD be experienced.

This is a problem.

It is not pretty

This is a very accurate representation of my allergy face.

A big problem. All of these plants insistently breeding means I can’t breathe. I’ve never been quite able to identify what it is in the South that I am allergic to, but whatever it is, it’s a plant that really enjoys trying to make baby plants ALL THE TIME. Its pollen saturates the air.

Seriously. It is not pretty

This is an even more accurate representation of my allergy face.

Plants in the South are just super extra interested in knowing each other Biblically*, apparently.
*It IS the Bible belt, after all, so it only makes sense.

Bandit masks are cool

I’m still mad at nature, even if it motivates me to dress like a bandit.

It’s really awkward, when you think about it. I just wish they’d leave me out of the process. Isn’t that what bees are for?

I miss bees.

It's fun to blame people for problems they probably didn't cause

Oh Monsanto. Why do you hate honey and flowers? Way to kill all the bees, guys.
(Just kidding)

I Have Never Outgrown Grocery Store Excitement

Or: Why I’m Slowly Dying of Malnourishment

Look, guys. I’ve told you over and over and over again that I am an adult.* With adult responsibilities and clothes** and stuff. I am very proud of all my grown up life skills.
*So it MUST be true. Obviously.
**Which are sometimes even on not-inside-out.

But every time I walk into the grocery store, I’m immediately six years old again. I’m wide-eyed in wonder at shelves upon shelves of food options and new taste adventures.***
***And all of the candy.

Also, sliding doors are cool

Watching me walk into a grocery store is probably a lot like watching the little squeaky green aliens in Toy Story stare at The Claw. “OooOoOOoooo….”

There are just so many options. My grocery store has eight different kinds of pre-popped popcorn. Popcorn, guys. Ingredients don’t even need to be involved. It’s literally popped corn. And yet somehow, eight feels like a shockingly small amount of options, given the fact that they have a wall of marshmallows and two complete aisles dedicated to candy.

THERE ARE SO MANY THINGS

I have a tendency to frolic through the aisles. Don’t try it at home, kids.

So when I go to the grocery store, I always go prepared. I carefully go around my home and scribble down all the things I actually need. I plan out meals I think I’d like to eat. I brainstorm healthy options and I try to keep the list short. If the list is short, obviously the shopping will be fast, and I won’t get distracted.

Ok. The list is really on my smartphone

It’s important to consult your list BEFORE the shopping process begins.

Then it’s time to shop. Things just go all wrong when it’s time to shop. It starts out small – tossing an box of Rice Krispies and a pack of marshmallows into my cart just in case I need a fast dessert to take somewhere.**** Then things get worse – like when you grab three kinds of cake mix so you can compare and contrast their benefits. And when you go down the cookie aisle for completely legitimate reasons, you can’t leave the Birthday Cake Oreos behind. I mean, they have “birthday cake” in the title. It would be rude.
****Because who KNOWS when parties could happen?! And it would be crass not to take something. And if I don’t go to a party, I could always make them for me…

Disclaimer: This is a bad idea

Goodbye list. Hello, bankruptcy.

By the time I make it to the checkout line, a strange thing has occurred. My cart is full, so I’m sure I must be good at grocery shopping. But at the same time, I’m also pretty sure I didn’t buy anything on my list.*****
*****This explains why I never, ever have paper towels, people-who-come-over-to-my-house. I’m very sorry. They’re just down a really boring aisle.

Boooop. Booooop.

The checkout people look at you funny if you say “boop” every time they scan something.
I will not tell you how I know this.

Leaving the grocery store is a sad experience, but I always look forward to all the delicious food I’ll be making through the week.

Then I get home and unpack all my bags.

And realize I’ve bought nothing but snack food, and no actual meal ingredients.

Don't you write "pantry" on your pantry?

If you look in my pantry-shelf, you will probably think that Hot Tamales are a legitimate dinner-making ingredient.

It’s a mystery how I can shop so much, and yet have so little food to eat.

I Am Possibly the Sole Source of Entertainment for the IT Department

Or: The Story of How an Otherwise Competent Human Can Convince an Entire Department She’s Barely Smart Enough to Not Eat Paste

Generally, I’m identifiable as a fairly intelligent human being.* I manage to dress myself in the morning, pay my bills, and effectively accomplish things related to my multi-faceted, demanding job. I can hold real conversations with people about science things, and space, and marketing, and even some other stuff.
*Hey, hey, hey. I said generally, guys. Not always. Sometimes I am also identified as an overgrown child, and other times “that girl who dresses up like a dinosaur any time it might be remotely socially acceptable.

Despite all that, you probably couldn’t convince the IT department at the Company that I’m smarter than a second grader.

I’ve mentioned before that the Company is growing**, which makes it exciting to be an employee. All sorts of things happen at growing companies. One of the things that happened this week was my department was moved into a different office space. We packed our things up in boxes and hauled our workspace items from one location into the other, like capable adults.***
**Hurray!
***Capable adults with desk toys, in my case.

ALL OF THE THINGS in one box!

All of my things did not fit in one box. I am lying to you with this picture.

Desk-space reassembly seemed pretty straightforward. Phones were rebuilt. Monitors were set up. Docking stations were re-hooked-up to all the things on the desk. Files were re-filed.

None of the pieces are sky-colored, though

It’s like a grown up puzzle!

Then, once everything was nicely laid out and assembled, I shoved all the cords off the back of my desk and went about powering everything up and plugging things into the giant power strip the Company gave me.

Which I did. Because I care, guys.

I had to make the plug in noises myself

Everything whirred to life and booted up. I was clearly a master of computer-and-desk reassembly.

AND IT IS TERRIBLE

…I sense a disturbance in the Force…

Except I had no Internet.**** And my phone had lit up at first, but by the time I sat at my desk, the lights were out and my dial tone was gone. Clearly it had kicked the bucket.
****No Internet access, if you’re feeling grammatically picky. However, I view “Internet” as a thing, like a pulse. You have it, or you don’t, and if you don’t have it, you’re probably dead.*****
*****I am not going to survive the zombie apocalypse.

So I had to go talk to IT.

Almost no one gets it, even if I make the whole "hands are bowls for imaginary gruel" thing...with my hands...

Yes. I do reference Oliver Twist when I ask people for things. It makes everything more literary.

IT came to help me.****** An investigation took place.
******Their mistake.

InternetInternetInternetInternetInternet...

This is why I should not be allowed to work in real companies with other employees.

IT found the problem. The problem was, my phone was not plugged in.******* My phone controls my access to the Internet. The solution was simple: Plug in phone, get both Internet and a working phone. Because, as it happens, power is needed for electronics to work.
*******The bit that plugs in to the back of the phone fell out. Which I did not check. Thanks for conspiring against me, phone.

Yep. This was a humbling moment

My IT helper was very good about delivering this news with a sincerely helpful face.

I was legitimately speechless, mostly because I am normally competent and capable of fixing basic problems like this. I held the cord and stared at it with an expression of betrayal.

I deserved that head pat

TRAITOR PLUG.

And then my IT helper giggled. He tried to hide it – he really did – but it was a giggle that turned into a snort that turned into a cough.

I’m entirely sure this story has now been shared with the entirety of the IT Department. I know this because all of the IT people have come by and offered me help. With advice on how to work pens. And how to use a mouse.

But it’s cool. I still got Internet.

I can console my pride with the Internet for DAYS

And that’s the very best prize.