Sheer Dumb Luck

(AKA Sometimes Music Causes Problems)

Hey, Friends.

We all know there are certain things that one should NEVER do while driving. Some of them are illegal, some are not -- all are incredibly stupid things to attempt.

Don't drink and drive.

Don't text and drive.

Don't attempt to do your make-up and hair while driving.  (I literally saw a woman almost hit a guy in the crosswalk the other morning because she was trying to curl her eyelashes while driving. WTF is wrong with you, lady?)

As for myself, I also need to add to my personal list: don't get too distracted rocking out to the music that you forget to watch your speedometer.

Yeah.  I have a little problem with that, Friends.

This was established when I was in college.  I was in the car with friends, and we were on the way back from a concert and listening to Nine Inch Nails -- probably much louder than we normally would have been.  It was late, there was really no traffic at all.  We were out in the middle of nowhere.  I did not realize we were about to enter an intersection that apparently constituted a town, and that the speed limit was suddenly going to drop from 55 to 30.  I also did not see the police car parked just on the other side of the sign, waiting for someone like me to come along.  My friends were useless and didn't see the cop early either.  I managed to get down to 49 before he got me on radar.  This, as I was informed, was a good thing as it would have been much more expensive if I was 20 miles an hour or more over the speed limit.  Of course, the officer also opened with, "You coming back from the concert?"  He literally was just lying in wait to bust people.

Fair or not, I blame Trent Reznor for this ticket.  If I wasn't so absorbed in the music I might have noticed the change in the speed limit a little earlier.  To this day I will not listen to Nine Inch Nails while driving.

Jump ahead to this morning's incident.

I had to take my car in to get serviced.  Not a big deal, couple of recall issues to be dealt with. Everything came out just fine, and I was in my own happy little bubble on the way back home.  It's about a 30-45 minute drive, depending on the traffic.  I was on the highway, listening to whatever music I had on my phone since I didn't feel like hearing commercials.

I was rocking out, enjoying the fine musical stylings of Korn (as found above), when I heard the police siren in the distance and noticed the lights coming up behind me.

Have you ever had that moment, Friends, when you see the police car, look at your speedometer, and know without question that you are well and truly screwed? I was just about 15 miles an hour over the speed limit.  Fuck.

So, like a good person I slowed down and pulled off to the shoulder.  Maybe he was just on the way to an emergency.  Not that I wanted there to be an emergency, but it would be super-convenient for me if he was in a hurry to somewhere else.

And then I started to consider some things:

Does that excuse that you were "just keeping up with the flow of traffic" really work? Because I was totally keeping up with the flow.  We might have been in the front of the flow, but there were several cars together.  Heck, that car from Connecticut blew past me about a mile back like I was standing still!  If I try that excuse, is it a legitimate reason to be speeding, or is it going to result in the officer giving me a look like "Bitch, please," and getting annoyed?  I know how I feel when patrons at work make up lame excuses to try and get out of overdue fees. 

I had a roommate in college whose father was a District Attorney, and she swore that if we ever got pulled over we should just start crying.  She said cops don't know what to do when confronted with a crying female.  Well, that's not going to happen.  That seems a little lame and pathetic to even attempt.

Okay. Breathe. It's going to be okay. I will just sit here and hope for the best.  Maybe the cop will go right on by.  I will not give a lame excuse and tick off the officer.  I will not cry....unless he is really mean and wants to arrest me or something, in which case I will probably freak the hell out.  I will just sit here and suck it up, as I know I am totally busted and deserve the ticket.  Also, I am worthless at trying to lie so there is no point in trying to come up with an imaginary valid reason to be speeding.

And then the police car flew right on by me.

I really almost did cry then.  Tears of pure joy and relief.

I got back on the road -- doing the speed limit this time.  A little farther down the road, and there is Mr. Police Officer, and he has pulled over the car from Connecticut.  I don't know where they started following him, or what speed they clocked him at, but I'm pretty sure that dude is screwed.

What did we learn here today, Friends?

1) Speeding is bad.  Don't be like me.  Be a safe driver who doesn't have a mini panic attack when they think a cop is about to bust them.

2) Don't be like the dude from Connecticut.  There's speeding, and then there is driving like a bat out of hell.  Also, don't be that stupid in a different state. There is far less chance that he will come back to fight the ticket versus someone more local.

3) Korn is now on my list of "Artists Whose Music I Cannot Listen To While Driving".  Sorry, guys.  The temptation to speed is just too great.

His Purple Majesty

Hey, Friends.

I'm sure by now you heard the very sad and shocking news that Prince passed away yesterday. I was at work when I heard the news and I was devastated.  I was really hoping this was going to be one of those horrible internet rumors that make the rounds.

You know how kids -- especially tween girls -- tend to latch on to an artist and go all fangirl about it? When we were little.....I'm guessing maybe 5th or 6th grade...my best friend (who shall remain nameless in this little story) and I lost our minds over Prince and Purple Rain.  Yeah.

I'm not even sure how it popped up on our radar to begin with.  I have this vague memory about one of our babysitters or another older kid in the neighborhood accidentally introducing it to us.  You know, someone in high school who was obviously way cooler than us and that we needed to emulate. We heard it and were hooked.  We asked what it was, and they told us.  And then in the next sentence told us that it "wasn't for babies" and we shouldn't be listening to it.

Friends, I think you know what happened after that. I mean, that is just like issuing a double-dog dare to get our hands on the album.  This shit was going to be ours.  We were not babies!

Somehow one of us got a copy of it.  Like new from the store and everything.  That pretty much meant we both had a copy as the other immediately copied it.  I honestly don't remember how that came to pass.  Maybe one of our parents bought it, but if they did they obviously had no clue what the lyrics to those songs said or it never would have happened.  Hell, I'm pretty sure we didn't even understand what half the lyrics were talking about at the time, but we loved the music. The idea that we weren't supposed to be listening to it just made it even better.

We would spend hours with my brother, and sometimes his friends, down in the cellar rocking out to Let's Go Crazy.  My parents' cellar is not a nice finished basement.  It's filled with random stuff being stored, the washing machine is down there, and it floods when it rains.  This was obviously before my arachnophobia formed.  The ceilings were low.  It wasn't normally a cool place to hang out is my point.  However, we could be as loud as we wanted to down there and my mother didn't care because she knew where we were and we weren't bothering her or fighting with each other.  We learned all the lyrics to the song and air-guitared (is that a word?  It is now.) all over the place.  We didn't have a video camera, but we plotted out elaborate stories to go with all of the songs.  We were making our own kick-ass music videos in our minds.  Imagination is a beautiful thing.

We weren't stupid, though.  Even we knew enough that you did not play Darling Nikki where a parent could hear it or we would never be allowed to listen to Prince again.

Little Red Corvette and Raspberry Beret were safer options to listen to where parents could potentially overhear.  We didn't have a raspberry beret, but we did have a big, bright pink, floppy beach hat and a matching feather boa that we acquired from a yard sale.  You best believe we rocked that shit out of that ensemble in my friend's bedroom while dancing around like lunatics to the song.

That's just a bit of it, Friends.  It was a life-long love affair with Prince and his music from then on.

To this day I don't know how we ever got away with listening to Purple Rain when we did.  I have a vivid memory from the same time of my father washing my mouth out with soap for using the phrase "Jesus Christ" in less than savory terms while yelling at the bully down the street who had just done something to piss off and/or hurt my best friend.  If he knew what those songs were about there is no way we would have been allowed to listen to that album.

Rest in Peace, Prince.  You are the soundtrack to some incredible memories.  You were a treasure and a gift to the world.

Even The Kindness of Strangers Can't Help Me

Hey, Friends.

So, I debated whether I should share this with you because it is kind of embarrassing how pathetic I am at certain things.  It's a little ridiculous.  And then I figured -- why not?  We are all friends here, no judging.  I tell you about all kinds of crazy things that I should probably find embarrassing.

Maybe you will find this amusing, or endearing, or just want to pat me on the head and give me virtual hugs because you feel bad for me.  Any and all of those options are welcome.  Maybe you'll think, "Well, I might be a hot mess, but at least I'm not as big a loser as her," in which case you can keep that shit to yourself.

On to our story....

It all started out as a normal Thursday morning.  I work the evening shift on Thursdays, so in the morning I like to go out and get coffee and just ease into the day ahead.

Everything was going as usual until there was some sort of glitch while getting coffee.  I don't know if they had just been really busy before I got there, or if something broke or they ran out of something, but there was a problem.  There were about 5 of us who had ordered and were just hanging out, waiting for our orders.  The person at the counter apologized for the delay and said it was going to be a few minutes.  No big deal to me as I wasn't in a hurry to get anywhere.

Most people were busy on their phones.  The guy next to me decided to start chatting with me.  I didn't think anything of it.  We're stuck here, just chilling out and waiting for our coffee, so might as well make the wait enjoyable.

Eventually they get everything going again, and after about 15 minutes they start calling out orders. The guy I had been chatting with got his order first, wished me a good day, and left.  Again, nothing dramatic.  He got his coffee and got on with his day.  I thought nothing of it.

A few minutes later I finally get my coffee from the older lady working at the counter.  But I don't just get my coffee.  She says to me, "Did you get his number, Dear?" and she's smiling.

(I get called Dear, Sweetie, Hun all of the time by random people.  Pretty much everyday.  I have no idea why.  I've tried to figure it out.  I've been in line and watched people not say any such thing to other people, but then I'll get the little endearment.  I must seem angelic or something. Ha!)

Back to the story.  I was confused.  Why would I have gotten his number?  So I told her no, I didn't even know his name.  I just met him while we were waiting for coffee.

"Oh, Honey!  That was a lot of flirting that was going on.  I was sure you two were going to get together by the time the coffee was ready."  And she was disappointed.  I don't know if she was disappointed in me for not getting his number, or that I missed out on an opportunity that I didn't even realize existed.

I pointed out that he hadn't asked for my name or number either.  Maybe he was just a friendly guy. He might be in a very happy relationship and was just killing time.

Coffee Lady patted my hand and told me, "I don't think so, Honey, but it's okay.  Maybe you two will bump into each other again somewhere." She then went back about her business.

And then I left, Friends, to contemplate my ability to be an oblivious loser.

You see, this is not news to me.  I know that I suck at flirting. I don't ever seem to realize when someone is flirting with me unless that person is incredibly blunt and obvious.  I assume that guys are just being nice and friendly. I don't have the default position that if someone is talking to me they are interested in me. That thought generally doesn't enter my brain. A guy has to be about as subtle as a bulldozer to get his point across, and even then I make no guarantees that I will necessarily pick up on it. It has been pointed out to me many times that I am an oblivious idiot about these things -- just like it was again today.

Let's play Missed Connections in the vaguest way possible. How's that sound, Friends?

Dear Guy Whose Name I Don't Know:

You were getting coffee this morning, and we chatted while waiting.  You were wearing a green t-shirt and jeans.  You were also very cute and funny.  The Coffee Lady tells me you were flirting.  I didn't realize, dude.  I wasn't being coy or trying to play "hard to get".  I just have no game whatsoever.  If you really were flirting, I'm interested.  Hope we bump into each other again someplace.

Sincerely,

The Clueless Chick in the Black T-shirt

God, I am an idiot.  Maybe I should try and find the astrology lady from the library.  She certainly had all kinds of advice she wanted to give me.

The Rally Experience

Hey, Friends.

So, Bernie Sanders had a rally here on Tuesday, and I was able to go.  Now, before you start freaking out and getting twitchy that I am going to start a whole political debate here and try and convince you that you should vote for him -- I'm not.  I'm not going to tell you not to vote for him either.

I'm not going to try to tell you who to vote for at all.  Your a grown-ass adult, capable of making your own decisions.  (Well, I assume you are.)  With the primaries here in New York next Tuesday I think everyone is already getting inundated enough with email, mailings, and phone polls.

This is more about my experience of attending, and I think it could be helpful if you plan on attending an event for any of the presidential candidates.

1) It may be free, but if they suggest you RSVP to get a ticket confirmation:  DO IT!

It still might not guarantee that you get in, but trust me: those few minutes of clicking on the website and registering are worth it.  Yes, the event is (probably) free and open to the public, but they still need to have a rough estimate of how many people are going to attend.

I was glad I had the email confirmation, as it turned out they were splitting people into two separate lines to wait to enter: one for people with the tickets, and one for people who just showed up.  Real talk -- the line for people with tickets was so long I'm not sure that even they all made it in, much less the people who just showed up. Get the tickets.

2) Get there early!

I left work early, and assumed that getting there when the doors opened at 4pm would be early enough, since the rally didn't start until 7pm.  I was very wrong.  I'd like to thank my friend Lori for letting me know that the one held near her was swarmed with people hours ahead of time.  If I had left any later I'm not sure I would have gotten in.  By the time we found somewhere to park, walked all the way down to the McCann Center where it was being held, got directed to the proper line, and then finally reached the end of the forming line?  That was probably a good half hour all on its own.

This was my view from the end of the line when we (we being my mother and I) finally reached it, a little before 4 pm.

Hello, from the far side of the building by the batting cages!

So, from where we were, the line wrapped around the batting cages, down the side of the baseball field, up the side walk along the building, over the hill and behind the other side of the baseball field, before turning and heading back along the sidewalk to the entrance of the building.  

And we were there early-ish.  Before we ever made it out of that field, the line for people with tickets wrapped around about 3 more times, and it just kept getting longer.

Get there early, Friends.  

3) Be prepared to wait, and enjoy the nice weather.

Try not to stress over whether you are waiting in line for an event you might not even make it into. They take security pretty damn seriously, and getting in is going to be a slow process.  There are police and Secret Service all over the place.  Bring as little as you possibly can, because it is kind of like airport security when you finally reach the doors.

For real.  I'm not kidding.  The Secret Service is running the security at the entrance.  You have to empty your pockets of everything and go through a metal detector, just like at the airport.  (We did get to keep our shoes on.)  If you set off the alarm, they will pull you aside and use the wand on you -- I saw it happen.  

4) You finally made it in!  Now wait more, but indoors!

That moment of euphoria you feel because you made it in will be brief.  Now you have to find somewhere to sit or stand where you actually have a chance of seeing the person.  Yes, there are big screens up so you can see on the monitors, but I wanted to be able to see in the flesh as well.  I ended up sitting in the bleachers behind television cameras.

It's not the best picture, but that gives you an idea of my vantage point.

5) Enjoy the speech you came to hear!

It started pretty close to on time at 7pm, which meant we only had to wait an hour or so after we finally made it indoors.  Bernie got to the podium around 7:45 pm.  Not too bad in the grand scheme of things.

6) Tip: Eat before you go, or bring something to eat while you are in line.

I'm not going to lie, Friends, I had some poor planning on that part of things.  I left straight from a meeting at work that afternoon and didn't bring anything to eat.  I was more than a little hungry by the time I got to have dinner around 9:30 that night. Bring something to eat. You probably can't bring the food into the venue with you, but you should have plenty of time to it while in line.

7) Enjoy the people-watching opportunities.

And they are plentiful.  It was a diverse crowd of folks.  And apparently the people without tickets must have seemed like trouble, because when we finally got to a point in the line where we could see that side of the venue?  They were roped off with police tape and barricades, as their line went through the middle of a parking lot.  I wish I had a picture.

People-watching amuses me to no end.  I made a ton of notes on my phone, and took a couple of pictures, cause that's how I roll. I'll try and keep this in chronological order from my point of view. Anything in quotes is the bits of conversations I over heard. Sound good, Friends?  Fantastic, because that's what we're doing.

"This would have been the best crowd to bring a didgeridoo to!"

"We should have been doing a full-on livestream just of this wait in line."

And then this happened:

Person in front of me in line doesn't know who Michael Stipe is or any REM songs. I'm horrified.

— Tammy Myers (@tammyshampoo) April 12, 2016

And she went on to say she only listens to Taylor Swift and One Direction, but only 1D's most recent album, and the person in front of her was trying to name REM songs she might recognize but she had never heard of any of them but "maybe if someone played one I might know it."  And I really wanted a wall to bang my head against.

Some of the people waiting in line  formed their own band on a hill to entertain the line:

The flag says: "Nuclear? No Gracias!"

I was bored, so I texted my friend who was going to see where the heck he was at the time, since I had been cooling my heels in line for over an hour at this point.  He said he was inside already, and they got to sit right behind the podium. And I assumed he was lying.

That sounds harsh, but you need to know that he (and his brother) make crap up all of the time and try to convince me that it is true, and I kind of suck at telling the difference.  Example: they once edited (and changed back - nothing permanent) a Wikipedia entry to try and convince me that one of our coworkers had been on a television show as a child.  In my defense I assumed this was more bullshit, and that he was going to tell me next that he and Bernie had breakfast together as well and were now BFFs or something.  This will be relevant later, promise.

Verizon Fios News van.  Super-excited at this point, because that meant we were getting near the entrance.

"Did you see that guy?!  He must be Secret Service!  He was wearing a suit, and he has the curly wire thing coming from his ear piece!  I thought that was just from tv and the movies!"  

"I don't think the people still in the baseball field are going to get in."

And then we made it inside, and found some seats.

"How many people do you think are in here?  I bet we are breaking fire codes."

"I get all of the television cameras, but what are all of the people with the laptops doing sitting behind them?  They can't possibly see anything from down there."

"Do you think there are any protesters here?  I didn't see any outside."

"How long do you think it took that girl to get all those different colors done in her hair?"

And then I had a moment...

Holy shit -- he wasn't lying!

Zoomed in from my super-awesome view on the other side of the universe, there sits my friend and his family.  Right behind the podium where he said.  

I think we shall end it on that note, Friends.

If you have a chance to go to a rally for the candidate of your choice -- you should absolutely go!  It's an experience.  Get there early, and bring a lot of patience and a sense of humor with you.  My tips from me to you.

Well, That Was New and Different

Hey, Friends.

So, I received what appears to be comment spam on 5 of my more recent posts, but not the most recent two. That isn't new and different, in and of itself.  Weird that they skipped the more recent entries, but not that different.

What was odd was that they were in Arabic.  How do I know that?  Google Translate.  I thought it was Arabic, but Google Translate confirmed it.  Good thing they have auto-detect when you copy and paste the text in!

I was pretty sure it was spam since it appeared to be the same exact thing in each comment.  So I had Google do its thing and translate.

It all appears to be for a home improvement company in Jabail.  Well, I assume it was for a home improvement company.  There was no company name indicated, or anything that appeared to be a link to a website.  It just listed things like "water removal in Jabail", "insulation repair in Jabail", "bug removal service in Jabail".  It was more like a string of search terms than a comment, although maybe it made more sense in the original language.

Do you know where Jabail is located, Friends?  In the United Arab Emirates.  Yeah, I totally had to look that up.

I'm a little confused why they thought the comments on my blog would be a super-awesome place to attempt to advertise.  I welcome readers in all languages and countries -- don't get me wrong.  That's why I include the little option to "translate" on the side.  It just seems like a blog written in English might have a largely English-speaking (reading?) audience who wouldn't be able to understand the comment without translating it.  Translate does tend to make things a bit more interesting to interpret, sometimes losing the original meaning and intention in the process.  And really, who scrolling through the posts on my blog is going to take the time to translate a random comment that was left in a different language?  That's a lot of extra work to expect from the casual passer-by.

I honestly don't get the point of it.

I obviously don't speak Arabic, since this little blog is written in English.  If the comment had been left in Spanish I would be okay for the most part, and I could probably figure out a bit of French before I had to translate.  I took Italian in college, but strangely that is the one I remember the least.

Okay, so maybe the language is not an obvious clue. This is the internet and I could be anywhere writing this, but if you click on my profile it does say I'm located in the United States.  Which I suppose could be a lie as well.....but that really would be giving me too much credit for trying to be sneaky and having the foresight to try and fake this stuff.  I lack the time, energy, and ability to give a shit about trying to create a fake online persona.

Secondly, Jabail?  Really?  Does this person honestly think I have the money to own property there?  I still have years and years of mortgage payments to make on my house here.  I'm also not going to contact a nameless company in Jabail for any home maintenance issues that should arise.  I think a local company would be far more cost-effective.  Thanks for the offer, though!

So, dear random spam person:

I reported your comments as spam and made them go bye-bye. Nothing personal, but that was literally the most irrelevant comment spam I have received, and that's saying a lot.  I don't know all of my Friends here, of course, but I can check the stats and see what countries the majority of them are from -- and you definitely would have been better off commenting in English or Spanish.

And then there was this interesting little thing I noticed in the stats.

None of the views logged today are even from the United Arab Emirates.  However, 14 today were from Saudi Arabia.  Maybe that is where the internet provider is located, maybe it's just an odd coincidence. Maybe you were incognito so I will never really know.  Just another reason to make your comments disappear.  Again, nothing personal.  I would do the same thing if it was someone advertising home improvement services from any other country and there was no sign of anyone from that country viewing my blog today.  Honestly, I would have deleted spam from a home improvement business in another state as it would be of no interest to me.

In closing, I don't like spam.  I don't care what language it is written in.  If it makes you feel better you get the prize for being the most irrelevant and unexpected.

Snow In April

Hey there, Friends.

So this time last week I was happily wandering Main Street at First Friday in a t-shirt, as it was in the 70s.  Two days later it decided to snow.

And then it kept snowing.

In fact, we have gotten more snow so far in Spring in April this week than we did all winter long.  

I was not amused.  And then one of my coworkers started with the whole, "Still believe in global warming?  Ha ha ha!" shenanigans.

Yes.  Yes I do.  The two things are not mutually exclusive.  Did you not notice that the rest of winter sort of never happened this year?  Don't even get me started on this.

Back to my point.

It snowed.  While I did not enjoy the return of cold weather and having to clean off the car, I will grudgingly admit that it was very pretty. I decided to try and capture some of the beauty rather than just be miserable about it all.

The rest of this post is going to be pictures, Friends.  I'm telling you this for two reasons:

1) If you don't want to look at them you can skip the rest of this right now.  You won't hurt my feelings.  I'll never even know!

2) If you're on a really slow connection and are wondering why in the world this is taking so long to load?  You can probably blame the pictures.  My bad.  Probably should have mentioned at the top. Sorry.

Now, on to the pictures. Most of these were taken in my yard or at work.  RIP to my flowers that may never recover.

From the yard:

And now on to the work views:

Ah, Memories

Hey, Friends.

So, last night was the inaugural First Friday in the city of Poughkeepsie.  It was a fun evening and a good time with friends.

Anyway, a few drinks were had.

By the time we were at our third establishment of the evening, and I was halfway through my drink, I knew I had crossed the line into tipsy territory.  Luckily I did not have to drive any more that evening. (Thank you Juan Murphy's for being within walking distance of my house!)

I toddled on home and left everyone else to continue on their merry way.  I knew I was done at that point.  It wasn't until I was home, snuggled up in my pjs on the couch watching television, that the craving hit.

Sometimes when you have had a few drinks of the alcoholic variety, you really just want some greasy food that you know is totally shitty for you.  You know I speak the truth, Friends.  Sure, I had falafel earlier in the evening, but that wasn't cutting it any more.

Unfortunately for me, I had none of that in my house.  The best I could do was microwave some popcorn and think about what a sad replacement it was for what I really wanted, what I was absolutely craving and could not tear my mind away from.

Not pretty, but so damn good

I'm pretty sure I would have sold my soul to whomever would have brought me a Garbage Plate last night.  Too bad Nick Tahou's is like a six hour drive away.

And that started the memories of getting garbage plates at the Brockport Diner, and the hot dog man who was always conveniently located directly outside NorthBound.  Of the trippy fire alarms at R.I.T. that really freak you out the first time you are there to experience one in an inebriated state. Of randomly driving to Rochester late at night in search of the only 7-Eleven in the area because only a real Slurpee would do -- not any of this Parrot Ice stuff -- and then parking in a random parking lot to watch the lights of the city and just chill out.

Those were some good times.  I think a Phi Sig reunion should be in order ASAP.

And seriously:  some place around here needs to get a garbage plate knock-off going on. Preferably with delivery service.