Magical Trip to New Jersey.

Saturday I had to babysit my sister's dogs at her house in New Jersey. I was supposed to be there by noon. At six in the morning, still awake, I decided to just stay up and drive to a nearby town and go thrift store shopping. I had an Olympics-themed party to go to that night, but no figure dancing costume. I had to do something about it.

After filling my overnight bag with exclusively wet clothes that would just NEVER dry in the dryer, I left my house, a little sleepy but excited, nothing can stop me now.

On my way there, on the highway, a SUV speeds up behind me, I'm going about 10mph over the speed limit, but it's not good enough for this dumb gigantic vehicle. I decide to start going the speed limit at this very moment, you know it's not safe with the current weather conditions. The car finally gets around me but doesn't forget to obnoxiously beep for more than 10 seconds.

Then, some black ice comes up in front of me and my front tire slips. I almost hit a guardrail. 

This is when I get off at a rest stop, because maybe it's time to stop and get some coffee.

I go to Starbucks (ugh) -- and wait on the ridiculous line. While I'm standing there, I see a woman behind me pointing to me and saying something to the man beside me. I hear her say "How many things did you kill to make your jacket?" Now, I'm wearing a fur coat, but it's fake, obviously faux fur, unless I killed a dozens of Dalmatians. I can't understand why, but I say to her "The only thing I killed was my bank account...right?" She looks confused. I guess she didn't say it directly to me, but I thought I'd lighten the mood, she looked so angry. And I didn't even buy this jacket, I got it for free. So I guess it didn't make any sense. I then say "It's fake," way after the grace period of a possible followup sentence. Eh, what can you do?

I exit with my vente-some other word-machiatto, and I'm on my way. Of course, I get on the opposite direction that I need to go and I don't notice until the next exit, which is Staten Island, where I live, where I came from. I just cancelled out my entire trip. Those twenty minutes could have never existed. I wish they didn't.

I go to Red Bank. I wait outside 3 storefronts and wait for them to open. No shops open on time. Waiting for stores to open makes you spend money elsewhere, like coffee shops getting a coffee when you already had a coffee, or later buying a water bottle at a diner so you can use the bathroom because you have to pee really bad from all the coffee, and then dropping the water bottle into a slushy puddle outside, along with my car keys.

I didn't find any costumes. I just ended up spending a lot of money finding things other people would love. So time well spent. I finally get to RoseLyn's and go to bed. 

Well, I think it's time to go to bed tonight as well. Nickelodeon has officially transitioned from Nick at Night to Nick Toons. The entire cast of Dora the Explorer is staring at me, waiting for an answer.

Goodnight.

Good Advice

If you're in a rush...never decide to actually "jump" in the shower. You think you might be jumping to the back end of the tub to avoid the cold water while it's heating up. But you actually just slip and fall into the tub full of frigid cold water...naked.

Survival Tips for the Locked Out.

Last night, an awesome Friday! I was on my way to my cousin Stephanie's house to hang out. On my way, my sister Gina calls me and asks me so nicely to come over, sleep over and watch her dog because early that morning Gina and her boyfriend Keith were to go skiing! I was really their last option, so of course, I had to oblige. I don't have pajamas, clothes, a toothbrush or a phone charger with me, but whatever, I'll make do, she needs me.

I get over there around 2am. Not sleepy at all. I woke up at around 5pm that day. I knew I'd probably be staying up for a while, so I just went online and chilled out. They left around 6am, for their outing leaving the keys on the table with the dog's leash. 

I finally wake up around 2pm and I go online. The dog, JD jumps right on top of me totally ready to expel a bunch of his poop. Of course my hair is wild, I haven't even washed my face yet and my cellphone is now dead but whatever, it'll only take a minute.

I let him out, I get back and the key isn't working. I try. I try a lot. I knock on doors. No one is home in the ENTIRE apartment building. I ask random gentlemen in the hallway, he tries, no luck. I ask him if I can use his phone and he says no. About an hour later, the doorman is on duty. He tries, but under one condition, I shall NOT let the dog go near him. And this one year old Golden Retriever is wacky, bouncy and is excited to see and jump onto just about anyone. He calls the superintendent and they don't have a master key because Gina supposedly changed her locks recently and they haven't obtained a copy yet.

By this time, Gina is supposed to be home. I call her and I find out that her friend and the person who drove them there fell on the mountain and broke his leg. They were in the hospital all day and they weren't leaving any time soon. I also find out that I had the wrong keys, the OLD set of keys that were right next to the NEW set of keys. She tells me to try a credit card and if that doesn't work I could just leave and go home, wait for her there.

The credit card thing was ridiculous, so I just throw him in my back-seat and leave. My gaslight is on, blinking. I have no money and no house key. I go back to my cousin's hoping my Mom is there. Of course she's not. I call her, my dad, my sister, no one answers. I leave, counting the miles, hoping that I don't run out of gas.

I thankfully get home and I remember that my Dad said there is a key in the backyard underneath one of these three rocks. I try each but they are stuck to the ground in ice. I knock each one down using my shoe, freezing, in the dark. The last one, the key is there. BUT it's in a block of ice.  I use a stick to pick it out slowly. I get it out but it won't work because ice is surrounding the grooves. I go back to my car and let the dog lick it until it melts in my numb hand covered in dirt, water and now the key ingredient, saliva. 

It's 8pm and I'm finally home. Gina came here but I have to drive her and the dog home because Keith needs the car. So that'll make me feel better. 

No more favors for anyone.

I got an interview! Not a job though.

Today I had an interview at a café in Staten Island. Not my first choice for a job, but I need money and waitressing seems like the quickest way to do that.

Ashley, a friend, had promised me that I could use her printer to print out my resumé. The owner, Boris, said to bring a "few" in the e-mail. I assumed that meant three?

So I got to her house early to discuss my clothing and get the resumés printed. Everything seemed okay until we noticed that her printer was out of ink. That sucks. We then try her parents computer, but they do not have Microsoft Word on their PC. So I try a number of things, saving the file as a bunch of things, opening it a bunch of ways, even downloading Microsoft Office viewer. And just to make this a little more annoying, the computer is old and slow.

About an hour later, the only thing that worked out was the incredibly slow download of the Microsoft viewer. Which would be fine. However! When I opened my resumé, it was just one line too long, so it was on a second page. And because it's a viewer, I can't edit it! 

So I print out two. Throw away the second page, even though now on my resume it says I commit activities but there is a huge blank spot underneath it. Karma for being so lazy?

Then Ashley figures out a way to print out the entirety, which is great, but on this particular one, it has no name, address or phone number.

So I have three?

I'm late so I have to go. I race there in my car. The interview is at 8:30 and it's 8:25. I'm right in front. I turn onto the street, sink into a huge pothole and continue on my way on the ONE-WAY STREET. Going the wrong way, of course.

So I could do two things. Turn around or continue down the block a bit to get to the café's parking lot. I pick the latter on account of the time.

I park. I get out. I flick my gum over a fence nearby. I'm ready to go. It's 8:29. I GOT THIS.

I enter the establishment and wait for Boris, the tall man, all in black,who is interviewing a very cute girl for the same job. When he is done with her, he shows her to the door with his hand on the small of her back, they giggle as they passes me.

 "So, I'll call you this week."

He notices me there and goes for the resumé. I think he's going to shake my hand. But he's going for the other hand with the resumés. My hand is awkwardly left in the air as he walks away with my weird three resumés. I guess I should follow him?

I do. I sit next to him at the interviewing table, right by a gigantic window with a view of the street outside. I introduce myself. He asks me about my experience. I lie, a lot. I've never worked in food service before so I lied on my resumé and said I worked at a cafe at school that closed down. How hard could it have been? 

"Do you know how to make a cappuccino?" he asked.

"Yup," I said.

"Do you know how to mix a drink?" he asked.

"Not professionally, but everybody knows how to mix themselves a drink, right?" I say.

No reaction. This interview was about four minutes long so far.

"Any questions?" he asks.

Now, I don't have questions, but I want to talk more. It seems like the interview is over and I didn't even get to say anything or show any of my great, job-worthy personality.

"I don't have any questions, but I have...thoughts?"

"What thoughts?" he asks.

Then I proceeded to tell him that I like that they have live music because I'm an artist and that means he supports the arts. I thank him. Then I tell him I love gelato and I'm glad they have gelato there. He doesn't seem to relate/take interest in/give a shit about anything I am saying. I then decide to tell him that I like their modern décor. I have no idea why. The tables and chairs are connected to the floor, and the customers cannot reach the table in some cases. I tell him I like that too and the crusty orange color of the walls.

I don't know why. But when you start something like this, you can't stop.

He thanks me and I get up to leave.

"Oh, just one more thing!" he says.

I turn.

"You have a car right? I saw you pull in."

"Oh yes. I do. That was me. I pulled in," I answered.

A short amount of quiet time goes by. He's looking at me. He either saw me drive into the one-way, not turn around even though I was on a one-way, or flick my gum, or probably all three! Should I laugh? Is this what this is?

"Okay...bye." I said. And I haul ass out the door.

Unnecessary breaking and entering.

I sometimes watch my sister's dogs when she goes away.

She lives in new Jersey. Not too far away, 20 minutes or so. She told me to be at her house by 10 pm. I was with my Mother at my aunt's house and we didn't end up leaving until midnight. I arrived at her house at 1 am.

I get to the door, hands full of bags and it's locked. She usually keeps the key under the mat for me. I get my cellphone out to see. My cellphone does not give much light. It's like a shitty bluish glow. I couldn't make out much but what I could see is that there was no mat in sight. No key either. 

I'm locked out. And I can't call her because I don't want her to know I arrived so late. And I can't see a thing.

I put down my items and make my way to the other doors in the house. Funnily enough, there are a lot of other doors, she usually does not lock the back door. I try the first door on the side, locked. The cellar door, locked. On my way to the back, I step in a big pile of dog shit. Couldn't see it but I think I could tell by the consistency of what I slipped in and the fact that it smells a lot like shit. The two back doors are open, leading my way into the screen-room but the door into the house is locked. 

I call my Mom. The phone is out of service. I call her cellphone, no answer. I call my Nanny because she is the only one up. She talks to me on the phone as I try every window. I even try shimmying into a small window in the greenhouse. 

My Mom finally calls me back and tells me that she recently unlocked the guest-room's window on the side of the house. I try but the screen is tightly secure in the window frame. I have to bend and rip the screen out. My hands are covered in dirt. The window is very old. Each strong push lifts the window an inch each time.

It's finally up. But I can't just fall into the room. The window is very high. 

I see a hose box close. I pull it over to the window to use as a step up. My foot snaps the top off. I place it back on top. I step up again, it cracks as I push myself through the window head first, hitting my head into the floor and my body onto an easel and a few other pointy items.

I spring up. I finally got in.

The lights don't work in that room. I'm still in the dark. I stumble to the living room, following only the flashing light from the new messages alert on her house phone and finally put the lights on.

I got it now.

But why didn't she leave me a key? She always does. Where was the mat? I tried to clean my shoe as much as possible but did I get dog shit all over everything during this process?

I let the dogs out in the front, put the light on, and bring in my bags. I decide to search the area a bit. I find the key on the side of the door under a broom leaning against the house.

I couldn't see it. I didn't even know the broom was there. Where is that damn mat?

THE END

I need to go food-shopping.

I woke up today and realllllly wanted pancakes. I went upstairs and scoured the cabinets for anything that could help me with my goal. I ended up eating a big plate of nachos.

Stuck in the ground with my crush watching.

This all starts with a dead cellphone.

I left my cellphone charger in Buffalo, NY. I live in Staten Island, NY. Best friend Dan and resident of b-lo said he would get it back to me somehow, soon. So, for the meantime I bought a car charger because mine broke a while back. Catch is, you have to be in your car to charge your phone. I forgot about that part.

So I went out. It was midnight. Nothing to do. Day before Christmas. Driving around. Phone charging.

I come up to a well known pot-holey intersection. Where my crush from middle school lived, right on the corner. I would frequently walk home ten steps behind him and watch him enter that big, white house regularly. I carefully  begin to cross the intersection but as soon as I'm in front of the house my tire drops into a big icy, slush-filled pothole. I'm stuck in the ground. 

Beyonce's "Halo" plays on the radio. 

I try turning, I try reversing, I try slow, I try fast. Still stuck. Water and ice erupts from underneath my tire.

I call my Mother and she says to try third gear. As I'm talking to her, I see a middle-aged woman peer out from the front door of the big house; she's clutching the arms of her performance fleece for warmth, squinting, in order to see the distressed driver before her. She seems nosy and worried.

I back up in third gear. The car rocks. This is good.

A round guy in sweats and a  gigantic bubble jacket appears next to my car.

It's my crush from sixth grade.

I open my window. "You stuck?" he asks. Good question. "Yeah. Uh...do you know what to do?", I ask. "No, she told me to come out and help. She feels bad."  

Now, I want to try to get out of this hole. However, he's so close that if I were to continue I'd spray him with freezing ice water. I ask him to back up. He does, slightly.

I try to back up. It sprays him a bit. He back up even more. I hit the accelerator, I'm rocking back and forth, back and forth. He watches from the corner. Andddd I'm out of the hole! I don't want to stop because I might risk the chance of getting stuck in the other cracks and holes in the area. So I scream "Thank you!!" out the window and continue on my way home.

THE END.