color this dream badd (well, not badd, but a little weird)

 i just awoke from an unusual, but totally plausible, dream. 

i was driving down a major road- not like an interstate, but like a multilane (3 or 4 on each side) road in a metropolitan area. (it was not like a major city, but not a tiny town, either.)

anyway, there had been a parade or something, but i missed it.

i was out driving, and as i am waiting to turn left, a flatbed truck passes in front of me in one of the near lanes, crossing in front of me from left to right.

the group color me badd is on the back of this flatbed, and the have little signs and banners and stuff, looking as they did during the c.m.b. album era.

my windows are down, and i yell "WOO! COLOR ME BADD!" as i make my left turn onto the main drag, going the opposite direction.

maybe there was low turnout at the parade, or maybe they just wanted to seize the opportunity to make a fan's dream come true, because the flatbed driver does an impromptu u turn, nearly throwing mark, bryan, sam, and shit- the other guy...with the long cornrows.... kevin? ....pretty sure it's kevin.... off their folding chairs on the back of the flatbed.

(just looked- it's kevin, and in the cd insert, he is one of the three who said writing poetry was a hobby, and maybe it is....or maybe someone at their record label told them they all had to put that, and only mark (who has always been my favorite, incidentally) was like, "naw, man. i ain't putting that shit. put down that i like women with self-respect, instead".)

anyway, they're now a block or two behind me, but gaining on me, which freaks me out, partially because i am awkward with people i don't know, especially no good with celebrities, and being followed still freaks me out just as much as it did in college, when i was driving on a tiny two lane "highway" (widened to four lanes right after i graduated) toward my college town at the beginning of the semester, waved to a cute guy in a truck as i passed him, and then he wound up following me all the way to my tiny college town. since random men who follow you that far (especially when the following involved cancelling a turn they were going to make), were probably dangerous, up to no good, and planning to kidnap you, even back in the late 90s, i drove not straight to my destination, but up and down random streets of maryville at high speed, even running over a bag of lawn clippings (grass EVERYWHERE), and finally winding up at my dorm, but heading not upstairs, but into the college book exchange in the basement, partially because i actually needed to pick up my books anyway. i may have looked as panicked as i felt by that point, because the guy just turned and headed out of the nearest parking lot entrance. 

(it is also possible that i was a lot shorter than he thought i would be.)

anyway, i don't like being followed by strangers.

so i'm driving down the road, and i notice that the color me badd flatbed ("the flatbadd"?) is now following me, and they're closing in. i freak out, because what on earth am i going to say to these hunks who proclaimed that they wanted to sex me up in the early 90s? (well, i mean not me personally, because i was just barely into my teens, and that's assuming the album came out in the latter half of '91, but the poetry they were writing in their spare time (except for mark, the one i liked, which just figures, doesn't it? i admire his answer even more now, though- possibly even more than i admired his floppy hair back then) was obviously inspired by girls like me, but several years older.)

given my track record of saying non intelligent things to celebrities (told dave barry he was "my journalistic idol", totally blew off garrison keillor (then kicked myself years later, when i worked for an npr station that played his show on the weekends), and babbled at none other than mr. gomez addams himself BEFORE BURSTING INTO TEARS at a poe birthday celebration in baltimore), obviously i could not let them catch up or pull over to actually meet them. heaven forbid that in my starstruck shock i casually mention how "all 4 love" was one of my favorite songs for years (but at the same time i was seriously into hair bands and also dabbling heavily in alternative music), but then start humming it, but not actually it as much as just some random off key notes as they sign...i have nothing for them to sign! i mean, it's not like i carry their cd around (even though i am fairly certain it was recently in my car during a road trip), so what would they sign? a billy idol cd would be inappropriate, and i'm not the sort to just whip out a boob in lieu of something more sensible and say "anybody have a sharpie?" (plus, i'm only a b cup, so that's gonna fit maybe two signatures, max.) there are napkins in my car, but with my luck, i'll forget about the special napkin, accidentally grab it while driving down the highway, eating some fruit i just bought at a produce stand (without washing it, because i live on the edge), and the signatures would be lost in an organic, abstract, accidental rendition of "starry night" done exclusively in berry juice stains.

yet, i am a bit disappointed to note as i look in my rearview about a mile later and catch a glimpse of the flatbed slowing down and turning right into a shopping center parking lot, likely to turn around. 

i briefly consider making a u turn and backtracking to go try and meet them, but the fact that i have just led them on a mid to high speed chase, coupled with the fact that not only will i have the usual baseline starstruckness, but there will likely be the shock of them not looking as they did on their cd cover 30 years later leads me to keep going straight, as i quietly beat myself up for being too chicken to meet them.

so, yeah- unusual, but totally plausible.

check this out.....

so there i was, getting checked out at kroger (as opposed to being "checked out" at kroger, which i assure you i was not, because my hard rock cafe sweatpants and almost not clashing shirt do not exactly give off a "sex kitten" vibe- especially after an eight hour shift, plus an hour of unplanned overtime), putting pen to sesame street decorated paper (which reminds me, i need to get my hands on some of those new stamps when they come out later this week), when the teenage cashier stopped scanning the dozen and a half cans of soup i'd found on markdown (half price!) and stared at me.

"are you writing a check?"

"yes, i am. i've learned that i can't have a debit card, because i blow through my money too quickly."

"but...you seem way too young to write checks."

now, i prefer to think that by her comment she meant that even on very little sleep, my youthful good looks remain (mostly) intact......as opposed to the notion (which was a not so pleasant "eureka!" moment during my second phone call of the day with my dad, who i had to call immediately after the incident to regale with the tale) that most checkbook-wielding folks were alive during the pre-muppet era.

"dispatch from (way, way, way) down south"

things i learned yesterday, at my hotel:
1. several rooms here are named for celebrities, including rita hayworth and gloria swanson. mine is currently unnamed. i like to think it's because they're waiting for me to become famous.
2. the sewage system is not as robust as on the mainland. after you realize this (the hard way), $1 is enough to coax the housekeeper into remedying the situation.
3. toilets here flush counterclockwise. (of course i checked.)
4. sometimes you aren't the only one who thinks a shell is really neat. (didn't learn that one until after walking all the way back, emptying my pockets, and realizing one of the shells was on the move.)
...and while walking from pago pago harbor to just past flowerpot rock and back:
1. litter is a HUGE problem here. if you know me well, you know this drives me bonkers. (the lack of recycling here also makes me twitchy.)
2. that said, at least the bags they use are biodegradable- corn based, i think.
3. as long as you get your package to the post office by thursday, it'll go out on friday's flight.
4. our sister hotel, sadie's by the sea, offers all amenities (pool, snorkeling, kayak rental) with a room key, even on sundays, which is a day of religion and family on the island.
5. that's good news, because my plan the fly over to western samoa to celebrate my birthday today (and then come back here tonight so i could celebrate again tomorrow) was thwarted by the fact that return flights are booked solid through tuesday.
6. part of the reason you don't see many thin samoans (from what i can tell anyway)- huge portions and lots of cheap carbs.
my midday meal was a vat of hot and sour soup as big as my sink (i ate about a third of it), and enough lo mein that i ate three servings and still brought home a full takeout container.
also, i picked up a pack of 6 cinnamon rolls for $1.80.
(myfitnesspal probably won't approve. it can bite me. i'm on vacation.)
oh- and at mcdonalds, you can get the "island-style breakfast". i'll pass on the eggs and rice, but spam doesn't sound half bad.....
speaking of spam, never have i seen such variety! i'm thinking about shipping the "spam with cheese" back to my dad.
now, if you'll excuse me, i'm going to pack up my snorkeling gear, figure out which bikini i'm wearing today, and get ready to head over to sadie's by the sea.
(first, however, i should probably try one of these cinnamon rolls- just to see if they're any good.)

all in a name

oh, lordy- it's happened again.

i just had a caller spell her child's name with a "hyphen at the top".***

the next celebrity recording a psa for nbc seriously needs to tackle this issue.

i can see it now:

(scene opens on george clooney, standing in the delivery room, dressed as a doctor. behind him, a nurse (renee zellweger, dressed as nurse betty) hands the new mother her freshly swaddled baby, portrayed by the baby from "who framed roger rabbit".*)

george: "new baby? congratulations!"

"pretty soon, you're going to need to think of a name for your little bundle of joy."

(cut to gene simmons, standing in front of a classroom. the students are busily trying to copy their names, which are written on tags spanning their desks.**)

gene: "yes- congratulations."

"when choosing a name, please think about your child's future."

(in the background, persephone quattlebaum-washington clearly grows frustrated, nearly erasing a hole in her paper, while ann sims, waving around a piece of paper on which she's written her name about a hundred times, says, "mr. simmons? mr. simmons! i'm all done. now what, mr. simmons?")

"please try to come up with something your child can spell easily..."

(persephone quattlebaum-washington erases so hard that her paper tears. both it and the pencil are sent flying as she screams and bursts into tears. gene simmons nonchalantly sticks a hand out and catches the pointy projectile in mid-air, saying, "happens all the time with that one.")

"...and please, parents, if you're going to use punctuation, make sure you know which punctuation you're using."

(child runs up, flashing paper at the camera. his name consists of nothing but random punctuation- a different combination is written on each line of the paper. gene looks at camera and sighs.)



*the fact that i cannot recall the baby's name right now is a clear indication that it's been far too long since i watched the movie.

**in the case of "persephone quattlebaum-washington", the tag takes up the extra space along the top of that of her neighbor, "ann sims".

***in case you're still wondering, yes, i enlightened her on the difference between hyphens and apostrophes.

spring has sprung (and someone's feeling a little blue)

ah, spring.

here in south carolina, we're getting april showers (...and hail....and maybe a tornado or two later today), flowers are blooming, temperatures are on the rise (and fall, depending on which week/day/hour it is), and love is in the air.

(smart alecks in the crowd would say, "no- that's pollen", but those of us who paid attention in biology class know that pollen is best described as "plant lust dust".)

anyway, apparently it's not just the birds and the bees feeling frisky these days.

no, sirree...

as you may know, my full time job involves answering the phones overnight for a wide variety of accounts, most of which are medical in nature.

before last night, it had been months since my last call involving little blue pills. (months, I tell you!)

that streak ended with a call that sounded like the er patient had planned to have a heck of a party, but didn't count on a medically necessary change of venue. (i'm not quite sure whether he was actually inviting other people to this party, or if he consumed all 6 little blue party favors on behalf of his imaginary friends. either way, i would assume that his next soiree will involve a much smaller guest list, real or imagined.)

had that call not come from out of town (in fact, i think it was even out of state), i might have suspected that the gentleman who just called in for an urgent prescription refill might have been the injured party, stocking up for the next grand affair.

fortunately, he took it pretty well when i told him that, while i'm not a nurse, i was pretty certain that viagra was not on the list of "emergency medications" that i could page the doctor for at 4 in the morning, and that he'd need to call back when the office was open.

hopefully, if the prescription is really that important to him, he'll heed my advice and make the call right when they open up. with the nasty storm headed our way, there's talk of some of the offices closing early.

making a list, checking it twice.....

no, no- not that list.

several years ago, as i was nearing 30, i realized that i hadn't really done many memorable things, especially on my birthdays. thus, the "30 before 30" list was born.

then, on the other side of 30, i decided to create the "40 before 40" list which, technically, is still under construction. (there are a couple of blanks on it still, including the one that opened up recently when "see chuck berry perform in st. louis" became completely impossible.)

well, fast forward more years than i care to admit, and i still have a lot left to cross off, and under two years in which to do it.

now, there is an awful lot of (cost prohibitive) travel on that list, but i have picked out seven things i'd like to accomplish by the end of 2017:

     *visit 3 of the 5 territories (2/3 complete- just need one in the pacific before i can cross this off)
     *save enough dum dum wrappers to order something (trickier, since they changed the rules)
     *visit a nude beach (i see many workouts in my near future)
     *drive as much of route 66 as possible
     *cross country road trip (can you tell i was raised in a "road trip" family?)
     *see total eclipse (thankfully, one is coming to my doorstep in august)
     *run a 1/2 marathon in under 2 1/2 hours (i got frustratingly close last time)

unless i get my dum dum wrappers corralled beforehand, it looks like the first item that i'll be able to make progress on will be (hopefully) the fourth on the list.

i have already begun plotting. 😎

not to spit in the face of chariot-y, but....

my new chariot is at the dealership to take care of some basic maintenance issues the previous owner apparently wasn't too worried about- an oil change, tune up, and new timing belt.*

though i told the dealership i had access to another car, as long as their shuttle could get me to it, they insisted on giving me a loaner or, in the event one was not available, a free rental car.

next time, i think i will either insist on a loaner from the mazda lot (granted, i am not impressed with the looks of the new miatas), or simply insist on just getting a ride.

it took half an hour, a cash deposit (i got strange looks when i told them my only debit card stays in a safe deposit box in another state, for my own good, and that i do not carry my credit card, as i am paying it down), three emergency contacts (if they start heckling my three, next time i'm giving numbers from bathroom walls), and my email address (next time, it'll be the one i don't check) to line up a temporary chariot.

then, i was asked what i drive.

"a mazda miata," i answered because, while i have driven the miata all of four times since bringing it home, "my dad's mercury land yacht"....well....as i said last winter, when he and i swapped cars and i kept getting asked if his was mine:

"i am young and sexy and so is my car."**

anyway, after the comment observing that i was "clearly used to a sporty compact car", i was offered the largest vehicle on the lot...***

let me digress (again) for a moment, and confess that, after the deal of zamboni, when my dad said i needed an suv for my adventurous lifestyle, i did consider one specific kind- even going so far as to "build" one on a manufacturer's website. (my serious college boyfriend had one, and he let me drive it once. memories of the handling being the exact opposite of a miata, as well as a discovery of gas efficiency (or lack thereof), added to the price of my masterpiece, led to abandonment of that little fantasy and my original backup plan (2008 miata in ice blue) was reinstated as my "well, if i can't find another one just like zamboni...." plan.

still, i'd be highly unlikely to turn down a free manual transmission wrangler as a second vehicle.

i can give you almost absolute assurance, however, that after hamilton (also named for an ability to glide across ice, as was his predecessor, though for not just the reference you have in mind) comes home and i turn "batman"**** back in, i am extremely unlikely to ever drive such a beast by my own choice again.

in the meantime, while i eagerly await hamilton's return, "batman"'s sole duty is making sure my designated parking spot is safe and secure, mostly because that car has more blind spots than stevie wonder. (perhaps one of his buttons sets of some sort of sonar. i've yet to find it.)

*plus whatever else they find, which i sincerely hope isn't much. i mean, i want it to be road trip-worthy, but i've only got so much money to spend at the moment, here.

**i can almost say it with a completely straight face. the car definitely has me beat on the "sexy" part.

***.....that wasn't a "panel"/pedophile van

****"bat" for "big-ass transport" and "man" because it looks pretty masculine to me

gifts given and giving up

my dad and his wife are in town tonight.

with them came two boxes of china. 

"china? CHINA?!? of all the things from the house in kansas city.......what in the monkey am i going to do with china?!?!" i exclaimed.

i'm terribly klutzy, never entertain, and have even less than zero desire to ever have a reason to own a china cabinet. i dine almost exclusively off my heavy duty (yet i still managed to chip a couple) blue swirl dishes from crate & barrel. 

in short, these dishes would be more useful (and probably have a better survival rate) if i used them for skeet shooting. 

but wait- there's more!

"your grandmother said this was to be given to you on your wedding day.....," she said, handing me a small, weighty box that turned out to be full of silverware that's, uh, more suited to a southern debutante (or a grandmother) than myself.

"....but since i still haven't gotten hitched yet and am on the verge of being sn old maid, i'm officially being given up on? greeeeeeaaaaat."

there was a slight amount of protest on her part, but it was negligable.

so, i suppose when i'm back in kansas city for our upcoming reunion of a significant timespan, i should check and make sure the family heirloom dress hasn't been donated to the lingle (wyoming) museum yet, as well as sort through some of my worldly possessions to cut down on what might be brought back to me after their next little road trip.