The NEXT Mariah Carey

One year for Christmas I received the greatest gift a little girl could receive: the Mariah Carey music box cassette tape. I listened to that cassette tape every single day. Numerous times every day. EVERY DAY. I knew exactly how long to rewind each song on my little boom box to get back to the beginning of the song. I knew every word.

Let's clarify, I did not just listen, I sang along. Aloud. Very loudly. I belted those tunes with my entire soul and being. I had found my calling, and luckily I "sounded" exactly like Mariah Carey. I would daydream about my album cover, how I would do my hair, should I change my name? My concerts were always closed without an audience. So Missy had to sneak and listen outside of my locked door. One time when I was telling her about my dreams she said, "Sarah, sometimes I listen to you sing and you really are good." I was touched, "Really? You really think so?" She looked almost like she even admired me as she nodded her little head and said, "Yeah you really do." I remember this bonding moment because we actually weren't fighting.

Fast forward a few Mariah Carey albums later. I still "sing" exactly like Mariah Carey, and now get her albums in CD format. I was a few years deep in my commitment to become the next Mariah Carey, and couldn't WAIT for stardom! One day after a closed door room concert I was really pumped. I ran down stairs to find someone to share my excitement with. Besides Missy, I had kept this to myself. Aha! There was my dad washing the dishes. I mustered all my courage, walked over to him and struck up a convo. Then I let the truth come out. "Dad, when I grow up I want to be a singer!"

Enter the montage of me imagining my stardom, fame, success, album covers, wardrobe, awards ceremonies and the awards. Beaming ear to ear and very proud, I looked up to my Dad as I realized he was waiting an awful long time to respond.

"Sarah, I don't think singing is your strong point, perhaps you should peruse some of the other things you are interested in."

This was the moment my heart broke. Shattered. It was devastating. I just turned around and walked upstairs to my room silently, where I had some form of a nervous breakdown. It took me a very long time to recover from that, but I know my dad had my best interests at heart. In fact, he saved me from embarrassing the hell outta myself at some American Idol audition, because confidence was the one thing I was NOT lacking. I sounded NOTHING like Mariah Carey. At all. Throughout my life, whenever I've met a horrible singer who thought they could sing, I was sad for them. They should have had a dad like mine: he kept it real.

ps. My dad swear he never said this. I am telling you he did, it has been burned in my memory.

pps. I have no idea why Missy though I was a good singer. I know she really thought I could sing, but perhaps we are both tone deaf as hell.

pps. This is also what caused me to focus on being a movie star. I won't get an album cover, but that is OK!

The iphone Adventure!

I don't know if you have watched my TV show, but there is a sketch on there called "Genaro Beserk." And it is definitely based on me. It is a bit extreme, however, I can overreact to a bad situation by assuming the world might just ending as we know it.

Now, the other day I was at the film studio and we all went to subway for lunch. There is a gas station connected to that subway and we into that section for a few moments. After deciding against purchasing a 5 hour energy drink I turned around and went back to my car holding a few people's worth of subway in my hand, and my duffel bag of a purse.

Back at studio- I thoroughly enjoyed my subway - even though the avocado was a let down. Once the "itis" set in, I sent one of cast mates to please get my cell phone for me out of my car. I forgot and just did not feel like going up and getting it. I did go to the bathroom and start changing my clothes when I heard someone screaming "SARAH!!! Sarah! come here! QUICK!" Half dressed I paused and wondered what was wrong with these people?! Can a girl rest for a second!? But after repeated appeals for me to hurry I start to worry. I threw the rest of my clothes on, ran upstairs and out the door, looking disheveled and crazy, and my castmate was in his car yelling for me to get in. I ran and jumped in. He was looking at me kinda weirdly so I thought he was playing a prank on me.

I bombard him with questions, but he was illusive. When we got near subway I was like "wait, are we going back to subway?" He said, "Yeah, I am still hungry! and... I need gas" Now, I just saw this guys gulf down a foot long... still hungry? It was not adding up but he was driving like a bat outta hell. And why drive this fast for gas? I just wished I had at least put my shoes. Couldn't someone else have come instead?

We pull up to subway and I, in a very snooty voice, say, "Well you go in, I will wait here since I dont even have shoes on!" He runs in and within moments runs back out. And he is triumphantly holding my cell phone up in the air. WHAT IS GOING ON?

I am so slow... I left my cell phone! It turns out, in the time since we left subway my cell phone was on an adventure. Here is a summary of what happened from what her perspective must have been:

• I left her there over some subs (so she probably felt abandoned)
• A thief grabbed her and ran (so she definitely felt violated)
• The police chased the thief and caught him, rescuing her (moment of relief)
• She was returned to the gas station (slightly scared again, but collecting herself)
• Moments later my friend called when he didn't see her in my car to find out where she was (hope)
• We show up and my friend runs in and grabs her (a bit of confusion, but hope is growing)
• She is paraded up in the air through the gas station parking lot (feeling a bit like a hero for surviving)
• She is reunited with me (complete joy-she was over her abandonment issues)

Here is a map rendition of her adventure:


(ps. it may look a lot like Disney's Adventureland... but its not)

Not until halfway through the parade route was I aware of any of this. I asked my friend why he didn't tell me. His answer, "I wanted to avoid you going 'Genaro Beserk'" HAAHAHA! He was definitely right. I would have thrown my body to the ground in despair! My beloved iphone! My only outlet to the world while my computer is broken! The thing that I waited 2 years to buy! Almost gone forever! "WOA IS ME" indeed!

Hahaha, sometimes your friends know you better than you think! Once back at the studio, it was unanimously agreed upon that he acted most wisely to avoid a "Genaro Beserk" moment. LOL! Great!

Justified Punch

There is a person in my life that I love more than anyone. A person who has been there for me through the ups and downs, the good and the bad, the happy and the sad. And that is my little sister Missy. Or as she likes to be referred to as: Melissa. But this is my blog, and I call her Missy. You however, should definitely call her Melissa.

So, Missy and I have had an intriguing relationship since she first grew teeth and was constantly trying to bite me. I was the bossy, charismatic, know-it-all big sister. Missy was the adorable, quiet, my-big-sis-knows-it-all little sister - despite her biting problem. (Side note: the "my-big-sister-knows-it-all" only lasted her very young years) She always wanted to play with me, and I always wanted to play whatever I wanted to play, and however I wanted to play. Do NOT think me evil. This is the way of the big sister. It is merely nature. Over the years I did a lot of mean big sistery type stuff to Missy. No matter what though, her love never wavered.

Do not think her the innocent victim though. We fought a LOT! I have referenced this in the SKAM post. And everytime we fought, I always got in trouble. Stupid Missy almost always got the last word and never got in any trouble. But as the big sister I was supposed to have some invisibility shield against annoying little sisters that kept me from the irresistible temptation of fighting with her. For some reason, all adults felt that my slightly less than 2 years more of life taught me some magical wisdom about "maturity". Of course, she had absolutely no responsibility to know anything about this maturity that I was to be the master of. The crazy thing is that once I lost my temper, I would cool down rather quickly. So after our fights, I was perfectly fine about 3 minutes later. When the fights weren't able to take their natural course and fizzle through, the inner anger built. For every argument that my parents broke up and Missy got absolutely no reprimand, a strike against her went down in the record books. These strikes were building up, and I was a passionate child. A passionate child with an imagination.

One fateful day we were riding in the car with our mom. Mom was in the driver's seat, Missy in the middle, and I was in the passengers seat. It was one of those bench front seats. Don't worry, little Missy was safely fastened in. As we were riding down the road I took a glance over at her. I got to thinking, and remembering- those strikes came back to me. There she was, all cute as a button, absentmindedly kicking her little legs, hands clasped on her lap, oblivious to the anger and detriment she had caused me over the years.

Inner dialogue: Missy is so stupid! She always gets away with crap! THEY (reference to parents) always break it up when Missy gets the last comment. But I was right! And Missy doesn't even know what she is talking about. Her stupid pigtails, she thinks she is sooooo adorable! GRRRR! She is so dumb! and she doesn't even know what she is talking about! And here she is all happy and cute, kicking her stupid legs all happily... she gets on my nerves.

At this point in time I was a silently rumbling Mount Vesuvius and poor little Missy was the unsuspecting Pompeii. Going about her life daydreaming those things little girls dream about. She was completely unaware of my eyes boring into her with PURE anger.

Back to Inner Dialogue: I hate her sometimes! HATE HER! She thinks she is so smart! All those times I wanted to hit her, all those times THEY stopped me from getting my revenge!

(This is where it escalates to another level)

Back to Inner Dialogue: Well NOT THIS TIME! I should just punch her in her stupid "adorable" little face!! Matter of fact, I am GOING to punch her in her stupid face!!!

And this is when I punch my little sister in the face with absolutely NO WARNING. My Mom was thrown off as well. Which was evident by the car swerving all over the road. Missy was dramatic as usual and caused a scene by crying. I had absolutely no regrets. She got what she deserved. I felt completely justified in my actions. My mom quickly pulled over and babied stupid Missy. I was silent and stood off to the side. My mom didn't play. I was about to get my ass beat. But it was worth it. I would face my punishment with my head held high. Justice, in my opinion, was worth the sacrifice. And for some reason, my mom was so flustered that I did not even get in trouble. I could not believe it. Actually, I still can't believe I didn't get my ass beat.

To this day my mom tells the story like this, "Do you remember when Sarah punched Missy in the face for no reason?" I have to quickly interrupt and correct her. "No, MOM! It was not for NO reason! She deserved that punch!" I then dive into this story to exaplin, and people understand my feelings at the time of the incident. I stand by this firmly to this day.

Was it right? No. But ONLY because she did not see it coming. Otherwise, high five to younger me for that one!

hahaha! still makes me laugh to this day!

Does not EQUAL

It must be hard being a parent. Even harder being a step-parent. My step-mom and I used to have a pretty rocky relationship. She was pretty strict, and kids don't always see the value in that. One thing she was adamant about was the amount of sweets my sister and I consumed. The rule was one sweet with our lunch, and a dessert after dinner. I found this unfathomable, and as a child I knew everything - of course.

One time, she overheard me gabbing with my friend on the phone about how I lost my last baby tooth (I was in early middle school) eating a piece of Heather's fruit roll up! But she was clever, she acted as if she did not hear me. Hours later, when I had all but forgotten about my phone conversation, the poop hit the fan. And I was grounded. I was no match, and had no argument in my defense prepared. I was caught red handed confessing to the crime. Problem being, I could not give up telling whomever was on the phone about this crazy day I had. (shocking, I know!) It was always my mouth that got me caught up. My favorite defense, "that's not fair, " only ever made things worse but I couldn't let go.

I tell you this to say: Trisha did not play. Annnnd that I was truly no match for her.

So, a little while later (months, or maybe the following school year) I began to have a small window of time that I was home alone. My parents took this EXTREMELY seriously. I had numerous sit down talks where the rules were laid out. They tried to catch me breaking the rules, and went out of the way to call and check on me numerous times. In reality, I was not a bad kid, but my parents had been. So they assumed the worst in me. I got accused of things I had never even thought of! lol. I certainly was not creative in the rule breaking department.

My areas of weakness: talking and food. (as we saw in the above example)

So even though I did not sneak people in, nor did I sneak out, watch bad stuff on TV, make phone calls (even though they swear I did), the one thing I did do was SNACK! I was always hungry! When I got home from school I would scour the kitchen looking for possibilities. By this time I knew Trisha was usually a step ahead of me. So I stayed away from anything that could be easily be counted. Like a pack of tasty-cakes. There were only a few in a box, and even if she did not notice that one pack was missing, she would eventually catch on. I was thinking long term. So I would nibble. A bite of some leftover rice, a microscopic sliver off a cake, a few slices of some cheese, and a pepperoni slice or two. The way I ate was like a thief in the night. I would stare at everything and memorize which way the labels were facing. Everything would be put back EXACTLY as I found it. I would not be found out.

Following this method, the snack I found everyday varied dramatically. And I often told myself I couldn't risk it any longer and this was the last time. I was genuinely afraid of getting in trouble. But apparently hunger trumps fear. You would think I was starved, but I wasn't. I ate breakfast, had a good sized lunch that left me feeling full, and was always given large portions at dinner. It just did not matter, by the time I got out of school I was hungry again. And not for a "granola bar" or "yogurt" as Trisha often suggested. Insert Middle School Sarah rolling her eyes here.

Sometimes I had a sweet tooth. I remember one day in particular. I looked in every cabinet, on every shelf, in the fridge, the freezer, and could not find a single sweet thing. I was getting desperate. I HAD to have something sweet. I was starting to loose control. "WHERE AM I GOING TO GET SOMETHING SWEET???" I was like a lion on the prowl. I knew that kitchen held sweets somewhere. If I did not get something sweet now I would have to wait HOURS until after dinner. To children, hours often seem like decades. That meant like 4 decades until sweetness. Absolutely not. No way. I knew there was something sweet around there. When I was on the brink of accepting defeat, I noticed something on the top of the fridge. Was that sugar?

Yes people, I was ready to eat straight sugar. Afterall, sugar was what made everything else sweet. I pretty much considered myself a genius for this. Duh Sarah! Why even worry about all of that other stuff when you can get the concentrated stuff? (sounds eerily similar to a drug problem) At this age I was probably like 4 feet and 6 inches tall even though I was in middle school. But I nimbly hopped up on the counter, reached around some other stuff and grabbed the box. It said "Equal."

Inner dialog: Hmmm.... equal? Is that the same as sugar? Grandmom alsways adds it to her coffee at the kmart dinner. So it must be sweet. How come I dont see Dad and Trisha use it that often? Maybe this is just another brand of sugar. Oh look, it is in those same little packets like at the dinner too. Whatever, this is perfect!!

At this point I ripped open like two equal packets and dumped the entire contents into my mouth. The moment before the crystals impacted my tongue I was salivating imagining the sweet goodness about to splash down upon me. All this hard work and searching would pay off: I was waltzing my taste buds right into candyland. Oh what glory awaited!!!

Has anyone out there actually tasted equal? If not, DON'T. It was so disgusting. The only thing that kept me from spitting it all over the place was my fear of getting caught. With my taste buds trying to recover from the near death experience I had subjugated them to, I put the box back EXACTLY as I had found it, jumped down rinsed and my mouth out. I was mortified. Grandmom puts that in her coffee??? No offense to equal, but it is NOT the sweet goodness that sugar is. I was done. I did not want any more sweets for the day. I spent a good portion of the evening pondering this phenomenon called equal. Why do people use it? What are its purposes? Does it in fact sweeten things? I could not ask anyone because I was too afraid to get caught. But for years, until I actually understood what artificial sweeteners were, I could not watch someone use it without a look of disgust and taste bud flashbacks. It may not even be that bad, but I was completely unprepared.

I guess I didn't even need to get caught to get punished. That was definitely punishment enough.

As a side note: You would not even recognize my parents now. My little brothers eat hot fudge sundae pop tarts for breakfast and the house is filled with candy. Its probably good it wasn't then though. I woulda been a fat kid forreal. Of course my little brothers are toothpicks. Kudos to Trisha though for trying to make us eat healthy. If my future kids are anything like me, its gonna be a hard ride on the healthy train. I'll be calling in reinforcements: Trisha!! lol! Thanks Patty Cake! love ya!


picture at the top: My visual representation of when I imagined I was waltzing my tastebuds right into candyland- but was NOT. Equal does not equal Sweet. (once again no offense equal)

S.K.A.M.: a story from my youth

So this little number is a story from my memory book.

My younger childhood, to me, was often an adventure. Perhaps this is why we still see this reflected in my adulthood. The adventure was never greater than when my sister and I went to see my Grandmom Tony. Let’s pause a moment. Now I know you are imagining a little ol’ lady baking cookies in a little cottage and knitting stuff. This is not my Grandmom Tony. She is a character deserving of her own blog entry! I love her with all my heart, and don’t want to give you the wrong idea. However, fig nutons aren’t exactly a meal, and supervision wasn’t her strong point. I have told my mother some of the things we used to do at my Grandmom T’s and she said I was causing her chest pain. It was never anything too crazy, but she did not live in the best area and we were certainly a bit unsupervised. I was always a curious child anyway.

Grandmom T lived on a very short dead end street, and across the street was my very first best friend Katie K. She was awesome. She is the only mutual friend of me and my sister Missy that always managed to stay unbiased and refused to choose sides. Missy and I were NOTORIOUS arguers. We had epic arguments that sometimes turned violent. Katie K always kept her cool and united us. Katie K also had a lack of supervision going on, so we were always “investigating.” Since we did not go to Grandmom T’s that often, seeing Katie K was always awesome, times like 10. She also had a super cool club house.

So imagine it: Three little girls, wildly hungry because fig nutons weren’t designed to satiate, almost completely unsupervised, with seriously overactive imaginations and nothing to do! We probably also had crazy hair and sticky faces. Our numerous adventures and forays into a random patch of woods in the middle of the city, through neighbors’ yards, through her crazy basement and bomb shelter, brought us together and united us. The only exception being Missy and I occasionally gruesomely battling. One time we hijacked my grandmom’s kettle –looking flower pot, emptied it and started brewing potions. Of course we were using plants, flowers, dirt, some baby powder, and a giant container of lotion. But we saw ourselves brewing love potions and magic unkown to the world before. We usually looted her house, her grandmom’s house (next to my grandmom’s) or my grandmom’s house for potion ingredients. We treated that dead end street like our little piece of the world. The only hold up was the remaining house: the Daily’s. They never did anything to us, but their house kept the entire street from being “ours”- so they were “evil.” We eventually did the inevitable: legitimized our group by making up a name. Every young girl has united with a group at least once and made up a name. Ours was SKAM! Sarah, Katie, And Missy. GENIUS! Or at least we thought so! SKAM was unconquerable!!! Do not worry, I will write more about these adventures in future postings, but today I want to write about the one that always sticks out in my mind the most.

I do not know how old I was, but we had been SKAM for quite some time. Missy and I hadn’t been to our Grandmom T’s in a while and really missed Katie K. As soon as we got out of the car we ran across the street and knocked on her door. Sometimes, when we weren’t around a lot, Katie K didn’t do the best housekeeping. Missy and I never had a club house of our own- so we could not fathom how this could not be kept in shrine like neatness. We all went straight to the clubhouse and it was as we suspected: jam packed with toys and furniture (which is amazing because it wasn’t very large). So we all 3 worked together to clear out enough space to squeeze in. The windows were blocked, but that was ok, as long as we were inside. Once inside we started to get really cold. All that manual labor had kept us warm, but the cold was setting in. After a bit of discussion, Katie K remembered there was an abandoned heater in the basement. So off we went. We really thought this thing through. It was a plug in kerosene heater of sorts. Those born after like ’88 prolly have no idea what I am talking about. It’s old school. But those suckers could HEAT up a room. We knew the plugs wouldn’t reach so we plugged up numerous extension cords, and trailed them to the club house. All the sudden, I started to get nervous and said, “what if it catches fire?” The other letters of SKAM agreed. We found a beach bucket, filled it with water and took it out to the club house. Lastly, we carried, by ourselves, this huge kerosene heater out to the club house. After much finagling and rearranging we finally got the heater in. The only place the heater could fit (we didn’t totally clear the club house) was in front of the door. So we cleared out space in front of one of the windows to use as a door. We plugged everything up, climbed (and not easily) through the very tiny window and got comfortable. Let’s take a moment and realize how much work we had gone through just to get to this point. When we had a plan, we followed through. Three short, but determined little girls we were!

Katie K was our unofficial leader since Missy and I couldn’t get along. It was also her idea. Therefore, Katie K was to do the honors of turning the heater on. All of the sudden my stomach dropped. I had the WORST feeling about all of this. Maybe it was that the heater was blocking the door. Maybe it was that it took a lot of work and time for us to get in the window, and therefore would probably take some time to get out. Perhaps the thought that we had a small beach bucket of water to help us against an ELECTRIC kerosene heater. It may have been any of those things. Or perhaps it was just my intuition. No matter the reason, I just knew it was a bad idea.

“Guys, I have a bad feeling about this, “I said in a very calm fashion. We talked about it and agreed that perhaps this wasn’t so smart. It was all very democratic and civilized. We climbed back out through the window and went about on to some other adventure, I am sure. Or possibly to raid her grandmom’s pantry. We, of course, had no interest in returning any of these things, and we left them as they were.

Fast forward a month or so. Missy and I return to Grandmom T’s house and immediately run to Katie K’s house. (Poor grandmom drove all the way to MD to bring us up so that we could play with Katie K!) Katie K informs us that her dad found our little set up and was SUPER ANGRY. Apparently that heater was in the basement because it had caught fire or something dramatically horrible that would have definitely caused our deaths. I am bit fuzzy on the details since it was like 15 years ago. But, OMG! we almost barbequed ourselves alive! Then we talked for about half an hour how lucky we were that I said something at the last moment!

Moral of the story: trust your gut (or possibly just use your common sense!) oh, and supervise your kids! lol

picture at top: This is what i imagine our clubhouse would have looked like: except that our clubhouse was waaaaaay smaller. Also, this image popped up on goggle when I typed in kerosine heater. What did the caption say under pic? "Fires that start from kerosine heaters"

Picture below: The three of us somewhere around my Grandmom T's house. I know it looks like we are in the country... but we are NOT! lol. That is just my grandmom's foliag. I am on the left, Katie K in the middle, and Missy on the right. Do not ask what is up with her face right there. And my apologies that it is so fuzzy. I am sure its some 1989 throw away camera.

I think we look a little creepy.

HUGO & I

REUNITED AND IT FEELS SO GOOD!
Please enjoy our little pic. Look at that bumper! BEAUTIFUL! (ignore that scratch though- that is like the one thing I had nothing to do with, the car came with that one) KISSABLE! lol


I thought maybe you were curious about what happened to Hugo. He went to the car emergency room / my mechanic

Let's list the work that was done:

new headlight
new gasket thing
side mirror reattached
bumper reattached
exhaust had something done (idk what exactly- im not good with cars)
AC is up and running again


Big ups to my mechanic! He came to the rescue. I will be posting his info on here...if you live anywhere near Baltimore you should go to him!

SO now I am no longer the jerk driving around with high beams on at night due to only one working headlight, my AC will keep me cool, my engine will not overheat, my bumper won't be falling off, my muffler won't be making those loud noises anymore, and I can see out of my passenger side mirror again!

WOOP WOOP like brand new!

I love and adore my Hugomeister.

"Choosing" Not to Be Stressed

First, welcome to my brand spanking new blog! It's all shiny and fresh! It still has the new car smell and everything. I have given much thought about blogging, and decided to give it a go after much encouragement (So you all better be reading it! lol). If you are curious about this image, please read below!

On to the story...

Let's keep it as brief as possible! I had an appt about 30 minutes away from work. I leave work and my wonderful car Hugo and I being our journey. Hugo does not currently have AC, but that is ok because we are pretty gangsta. Well, maybe not because I didn't handle it all that well. See, my favorite thing is to be on time- and I was! I was early, way early. So I decided to be proactive and get some gas with my free time. However, my journey to get gas turned into a series of unfortunate events: almost car accidents, people cutting my off, car overheating, turning the heat on full blast to cool engine down, getting stuck in a traffic jam, and going the wrong way on the highway. The heat made everything more intense. I kept it together all the way until my friend didn't pick up his phone and I realized I would be late.

If being on time makes me super happy, imagine how being late makes me feel (and then multiply that by 10). To make matters worse I was HOT, sweaty, red, and ready to drive Hugo off a bridge. But I pulled myself together because I have promised myself I am a new person that does not irrationally loose my temper. I went to my appt and had a grand time and got to relax (I am not being sarcastic). I was at my acupuncturists, who is deep and knowledgeable, and who will get you in touch with your Chi. She Rocks! When I left she told me these very important words, "CHOOSE to not be stressed out."

INSERT EPIPHANY HERE.

I left feeling light as a feather and very in control. I knew I had a sweaty car ride a head of me, but I CHOSE that it would not bother me one bit. This was the new person I wanted to become anyway! After all, nothing could be worse than my ride to my appt. haha! God has ways of testing us that is for sure.

It all started well (albeit a bit sweaty). Hugo and I were ready and on the open road. "To home Hugo!" and off we went. Just as we were cruising down the highway, jamming to some music, the wind blowing in our hair, there was a noise. A dragging noise. I thought to myself "oh man. But it is ok Sarah. Whatever is happening can't be that bad." Please note that Hugo has had a rough year. Starting on the first of this year he has broken down a few times, was b**** slapped by another car (fender bender), needed a new clutch, had a piece of plastic fall off on highway, etc. So this moment was another notch on the timeline of Hugo misfortune. I did not let the weight of these trials weigh on me. I calmly decided to wait another mile and see what happened. I was also pretty choosey about where I should pull over. There is an exit ramp here, there was a sharp curve there, too much trash on that side... aha! That looks good. Before getting out of the car I take a deep breath, put on a smile and CHOOSE to not be stressed.

It turns out my bumper fell off (refer back to previously mentioned b**** slap fender bender that my broke ass did not get fixed properly). Perhaps I should have been less picky about where to pull over, because this was kinda dangerous. The poor bumper was hanging on for dear life like a hang nail on a big toe. The old me would have dramatically started flailing around and going through the woa is me dance. The new me CHOSE to stay calm and think pragmatically. This lead to me standing on the side of the highway in the blazing heat trying with all my might to rip my bumper the rest of the way off. I couldn't very well stay there, and I certainly wasn't going to waste one of my AAA tows being so close to home. Remember it has already been a rough year and I may need my last one for an even rainier day. So I CHOSE to calmly remove this bumper myself!

Ten minutes later I am still yanking and pulling. My fingers are cut up, I am beyond sweaty, I am covered with black dirt all the way up my arm, and I am starting to get a little hysterical with the pulling. However, as I am yanking wildly I am chanting to myself "I will NOT be stressed! This is a good day!" Eventually I got that damn bumper off! Annnnnd I kept my cool the entire time. So, I put the bumper in the back seat and Hugo and I drove off into the distance- myself covered in dirt, Hugo feeling a bit violated, and both of us feeling rather smug. Ha! We did it!

That lasted about a mile and a half. All of the sudden I hear the same noise of something dragging. "What else is left to drag????" Pulling back over, I investigate and see it is a large plastic piece from above my tire dragging and hitting my tire. I take a moment to CHOOSE to not be stressed and assess the situation. Believe it or not, this little piece of plastic is attached way more securely than my bumper. This plastic piece and I have a bit of a tango- but it will not budge. I can recognize when it is time to surrender, but I am still not going to call AAA. After a brief cellular pow wow with my roomie I decide im just going to drive. F it. I am literally at my exit and only live a mile from the exit ramp.

Hazard lights on, and here we go. After getting off the highway the wrong way (for a second time in one day) and making an illegal U-turn (with my bumper in the back seat, and a large piece of plastic hanging in front of my tire) as inconspicuously as possible, we slowly head home. You should have heard the ruckus this piece of plastic started to make. We can make it Hugo! Then there was a horribly loud noise and then silence. I look in my rear view mirror and I see the large plastic piece rolling down the road.

GOOD RIDDANCE!

I was tired of that piece. I didn't even go back and get it. I felt really guilty because I am against littering, but I had to prioritize. Getting home was goal numero uno. I did feel better now that it was gone though. I had been having visions of the friction of the plastic and my tire getting so hot that my gas exploded. Once that happened, AAA couldn't help me if I wanted them too. The rest of the ride was relatively uneventful. Just the usual crazy looks from people, some teenagers driving their parents nice ass car asking me questions at a red light (you bastards know nothing of my struggles!), and of course taking a slight detour to avoid a police officer (sometimes we have to re prioritize for a moment)

This entire adventure I kept it together. I got really close a few times. I honestly did. But I believe my acupuncturist would have been proud. I park Hugo as close as I can to the person in front of us on the street. I was hoping no one would notice the bumper wasn't there. Which was kind of silly because the bumper was clear as day sitting in the backseat, taking up all kinds of space.

I call my same friend that I could not get a hold of earlier... no answer. I LOST IT. I started balling my eyes out. I was most definitely STRESSED OUT! I was no longer in control of how I would feel.

Now I find this experience hilarious. But each time I lost it, it had to do with a human experience. The moment of reaching out for support and not finding it. Not that my friend purposefully didn't answer, it was the luck of the cosmos. The first time was certainly compounded by being late. I was certainly tested to the extreme and learned I could loose my bumper at 70 miles an hour and keep it relatively cool, but if someone doesn't answer their phone I am a mess. Well at least I know what I need to work on.


note about pic above: that is the bumper in my backseat. Not very inconspicuous at all. I have also very poorly blurred my license plate number... please don't be offended.

always be able to laugh at yourself!