How does this... I don't even... It's just so... I'm at a loss

I have slowly been working on a blog post about taking a drug test for my new job, but the more I read it the less it seems as funny as it did the day it happened. Maybe I'll get to it later on, but for now, I'm leaving it alone for a while and instead I'll just tell you how the job is going now. :)

Okay wait... I'm not going to, instead can I please tackle the issue of this hair style that is popular for guys lately? Like... the past couple of years I've been noticing this hair style of having their hair swept forward, almost bangish like.... no who am I kidding... it's totally bangs. It's like they're trying to cover their foreheads. Like these:

Or like new teen pop sensation Justin Bieber:

Now I'm not saying that anyone of these young boys are unattractive... just that their hair is! (Well... I'll make an exception for that guy in the 2nd photo with the red in his hair... I hope he's over 18 because that guy is hot!) Anyway, moving on. I just don't understand this haircut for boys lately. I first noticed it while watching Two-A-Days on MTV in 2007. I think all but 2 of the guys showcased on the show had this swept-over-their-forehead look. I remember sitting there, with my friend Amanda, watching the show and we were just confused... when did this look become the fashion? We assumed it was just a mid-west thing... but slowly it crept over the nation and now it's THE LOOK for teenage boys.

I just have a feeling this is going to turn into one of those regretted hair styles... much like the bangs of the 80's:

The guy haircut is just too... emo? or something for me? I don't know... I just don't like it and I hope that if I ever have a son that this hairstyle is outdated at that point... *sigh*

That time when I unintentionally, intentionally hurt nature...

A little while ago, I left a comment over at Hyperbole and a Half (who by the way, is incredibly hilarious) in regards to her goose encounter. If you've never read her blog, then you must go NOW to that post and read that in the least. It is... I don't even know how to... it's just... Allie is funny and awesome and all of her greatness is visible in that post. Go now and read it... then come back here, please. Thanks!

Okay, so her post got me thinking about how I should just post my goose attack story here, unfortunately it's not nearly as funny as Allie's, so I hope you all read hers and maybe some residual hilarity will rub off on mine... so here it goes:

Unfortunately I don't remember the year, but it was over 10 years ago. (somewhere in either Junior High or High School) Stephanie was babysitting for her dad's co-worker, who also happened to live across the street from my house. She decided to take the little girl for a walk around the lake to feed the ducks with some bread and I tagged along. If I remember correctly, the little girl's name was Katie (... or something with a K sound... I'm not really sure now, but I'm going to call her Katie anyway), and she was probably 3ish? These are all useless details to you, but I want to remember this story forever, so I'm trying to be detailed for me here. Anyway, we packed Katie up into her stroller and headed to the lake.



It really is a gorgeous lake, isn't it? You can't tell from that picture, but it has a ton of ducks, geese, egrets, and other various fowl hanging out there. This photo is actually not terribly far from where the incident took place. Just around the bend, behind where this photo was taken, we stopped our walk and decided to feed a group of ducks and geese. A gaggle of geese? Is that what they're called? By the way, who the hell came up with gaggle? That is a terrible sounding word! Seriously. Say it out loud. Gaggle. It's an ugly word isn't it? Moving on... So we stopped to feed the birds. We threw the rest of our pieces of bread to them and realized we were out of bread. I think we may have even apologized to them. I frequently talk to animals, (in a completely sane, normal, non-Dr. Dolittle sort of way, of course) so it wouldn't surprise me if I said "That's it guys. No more for you today. Sorry! All gone" and waved my empty hands at them to show them that there was no more food. Oh, except I was carrying Katie, so I couldn't have waved my hands at them, could I? Hmm... Regardless, we were out of bread and were turning to walk away. I had picked up Katie and was walking away and Steph was pushing the stroller ahead of us on the path.

Now, let me explain something here real quick. I had lived near The Lake my whole life at that point. So I knew that the birds would follow you when you stopped feeding them. I knew it technically wasn't good to feed them, but I would do it on occasion anyway. I knew, from experience, that when you walk away the best method to get the geese to not follow you is to begin to walk away, then quickly turn and rush them aggressively. This confuses them, causes them to momentarily panic, and scatter. Then you can leave the area not being stalked/harassed by large, waddling, sometimes hissing, birds who are just trying to get their last bread-fix. You see, I knew all this. It is and has always been ingrained in my mind. I should have been more careful, but I was young and reckless, and holding a small child.

So, there I was, holding Katie, walking away from the gaggle (ugh) of geese completely unaware that there was a goose with a bread hunger that had gone unfulfilled. I was about to take a step, when the goose bit me. Let me say that again. I had been walking and was about to take another step, when the little bugger bit me! Do you know, what position your legs are in when you've been walking a couple steps and you're about to take another? Your legs are apart. In this case, my right foot/leg was forward, my leg foot/leg was back. Leaving my soft, fleshy, barely sees the light of day, inner thigh exposed! (I was wearing jeans, so it wasn't really "exposed" in that way, but you get my drift) The goose bit my inner thigh! I didn't even know his name and he was already trying to get to 3rd base!

I'm not sure what went through my head in the split second between being bit and the action my body took. It was pure instinct. I didn't think. I didn't even pause. I just acted. I actually didn't even know that there was a goose behind me. I just knew that something had pinched my thigh really hard and it hurt. A lot. So I did what came naturally.

I turned around swinging.

You know when a fly is buzzing around your head and you swat it at, sort've haphazardly with the back of your hand? Well, imaging doing that, but instead of a fly imagine a goose... and instead of your hand imagine using your whole arm. That's sort've what it was like. I unknowingly, back-handed the goose. I turned around rapidly, while yelling (It could have been "ouch." It could have been "hey." Whatever sound you make when you're caught by surprise in a painful way) with my arm stretched out and I hit something with it. Turns out... I had hit the goose. Okay, to be completely honest, I didn't just hit the goose. My arm caught the neck of the goose. I don't know how I happened to hit it in the exact location to send it flying back. I guess it bit me and then lifted it's head, which was unfortunate on its part. I just caught it perfectly to send it wings spread, reeling backwards toward the ground.

Actually... it sort've looked like this when I turned around (minus the pole sticking out of it's hoo-hah)...

Like I said, it had its wings spread and it was moving in a backwards motion because of the impact of my arm... not because it decided to back away slowly. In fact, its neck was sort've curved like that too. When I looked and saw what it was I had hit, I was shocked. Not so much shocked at the fact that a goose had just bit me, although I was a little surprised it happened to ME, but more so shocked that I had just unintentionally, intentionally hit something... and that something was a freaking goose!

At this point, Stephanie whipped around and was instantly concerned about what happened... to Katie. Now, I understand this. It's completely valid and responsible for her to be concerned about the small child that was entrusted into her care... except that at the time I was the one that was bit! She asked if Katie was okay and I think I may have said, "Yes! But I'm not!" She took Katie from me and I looked down to see if I was bleeding. Thankfully, there was no blood on my jeans, but my leg was still really hurting. I put pressure on it, to ease some of the pain, but I just wanted to go home and inspect my thigh in the privacy of my own bathroom.

That was the end of our walk around The Lake. We headed home, well I headed home and Stephanie headed across the street to Katie's home.

For reference, the goose wasn't a Canadian Goose. It was white with a black beak. I've never seen one like that around The Lake since. In fact, I have been searching the Internet for a picture of a similar goose, or at least a description of the specific breed of goose it might be, but I'm coming up with nothing.

In the end, all was okay. The goose didn't break any skin, but it did leave a bruise. :( That was the last day that I fed the birds at The Lake. But I think the geese fear me a little more now. They know I don't take any sh*t from them.

Now when I see geese around the lake, I get a little less this:

and a little more this:

The one where I cry because I want a burger and instead settle for a freezer-burned Popsicle.

Sometimes I think I have an illness. Like some sort of emotional retardation, and I think Hey, maybe that is why you're still single. Then I realize... no, it's just PMS.

I cried 3 times today. 3 whole times in a span of an hour... so maybe it was just one long cry with dry spells in between?

So, generally speaking, right before I start my period I get very emotional. (Oh, was I supposed to warn you before I said something like that? Oh, oops. My bad.) Very emotional. As in, I cry over nothing. (Literally and figuratively) I might cry because nothing is happening in my life or I might cry because I can't decide if I want my bed to be put up on risers while it is in my "new" bedroom. Today it was the later reason.

You see, my sister moved out (Yay sister! So proud of you for taking the big move-in-with-a-man leap.) to go live with her FIANCEE. Yes, my sis got engaged. Woo! Go sis! I capitalized fiancee because I constantly still call him her boyfriend which is both incorrect and annoying to those who catch my error. Anyway, so she moved out and I moved into her room. I moved not because it's larger than my room, which it totally is and how did I not notice this until it was pointed out to me just days ago?!, but because my mother wants to remove the popcorn ceiling in my room, paint it, and paint the walls as she did to most of the rest of the house years ago. We literally moved the last of my sister's big stuff out on Monday. I mean she's been moving out for a while now, but we had to wait until it was dry to move her bed and entertainment center so we could use the truck. Why am I explaining this? You don't care. Anyway, on Monday my mom immediately started moving my stuff into "Sis' room"... I think I'll forever call it her room... even though none of her stuff is in here now. Last night I slept on my mattress in my room, while nearly everything else was in the other room. It was weird. I had to go into her room to get dressed today because that's where my dresser was.

Tonight though... well... tonight it's going to be strange to sleep in here. I mean, I've totally slept in here before. I actually have memories of being in a crib in my sister's room. I would stand up in my crib and... wait... have I mentioned this here before? Ugh. I totally have. Sorry about that.

Wow, I have strayed far away from what I was saying at first. Well... I had to decide today if I wanted my bed up on risers, as it was in my room, or not while my bed is in the "other bedroom." I'm only going to be in here for 2 weeks or so while we finish my room... maybe longer if I like it in the bigger room... but that decision brought me to tears and I think I may have frightened both of my parents. I know it shouldn't be a hard decision, but I got to thinking about how when sister's bed was in here, the dog would climb up on it and maybe, just maybe if I don't have risers the dog will feel good enough (she's got arthritis) to jump up on MY bed and snuggle with me like she used to when I had a futon. But then I realized that my bed even without the risers is still taller than sister's bed because her box spring is thinner than mine and I realized that dog probably won't jump on my bed anyway because she has a hard time jumping up on her favorite couch as it is now. AND if I don't put it up on risers then where would I put the things that I have stored under my bed?! Only a couple of the things that I currently have under it will still fit if I don't use the risers. AND I was hungry and didn't want to make that decision. So, all those things were going through my head and my mom wanted a decision right there and there, and my emotional PMS monster reared its ugly head and I broke down and cried. Now mind you, I wasn't a sobbing mess, (that came later while I was in the car, talking to my sister and my best friend, parked in the neighborhood where my other best friend will potentially be moving to in a couple months... I'll get to that...) but I was crying.

This is where the burger comes into play. It was at that moment that I realized that I'm hungry and I've been on my period for 2 days now and I haven't yet had grease. I know that sounds strange, but I CRAVE anything greasy the first day of my period. Suddenly ALL I WANTED WHAT A MOTHER F-ING CHEESEBURGER. But, today I had a weigh-in, and I didn't want to ruin any progress I may have made, so I knew I couldn't/shouldn't have one... I searched the house for something to eat, but I knew if I ate something I would still have that craving and it would haunt me. I was going to make a sandwich, but suddenly the bread that we had, multi-grain with those little annoying grain seeds in it, was disgusting to me. I was going to have some leftover lasagna, but that didn't sound good either. So, after frantically searching the house (actually... I was totally meandering through the kitchen and garage, walking slower than normal because I was sad), I started crying yet again. I wanted that cheeseburger, but I knew my parents would remind me that I didn't need it, that I had a weigh-in later, and that there are plenty of other things to eat in the house. But had they said any of that, all I would have heard would be YOU'RE FAT! Of course they wouldn't have said that, but that doesn't matter, that's all I would have heard... so I continued to cry. Until I saw the freezer-burned Popsicle in the freezer and I ate it. That helped. A little.

Then my mom and I got in an argument over moving something out of my closet and into the closet in the other room and I lost it. 45 minutes later I was in the car, with Burger King next to me, crying on the phone with my sister, while it was pouring rain outside, sitting in front of a stranger's house. I had decided that I needed that cheeseburger more than I needed a good number on the scale, so I left. I also needed out of the house. So while I got food I decided to try and find the house my friend bought. I found it and I was going to call her to make sure I had found it, when my phone rang. It was sister. The first thing out of her mouth is, "You got fast food for dinner?! We have to weigh-in tonight" and I lost my shit. I really did. I went from happy-go-lucky-I'm-going-to-call-my-friend-to-see-if-this-is-the-right-house (albeit a little ashamed of having Burger King in the car), to suddenly yelling and crying hysterically. My sister was able to calm me down and I drove home. When I got home, my another dear, dear friend called and she made me giggle, which I totally needed. Since then, I've been fine.

My numbers on the scale didn't reflect any change from the original weigh-in, but I still have time to show change, and at least now I have no cold, I feel great emotionally, and I no longer have a craving. WIN!

...

Does God even make a man strong enough to deal with that? I hope so.

I no longer feel like I'm prematurely dying....

....I just feel like I'm dying a normal rate. ***** please let it be known that I have had this entry in-progress since January 10. I am such a procrastinator, le sigh. Also, I use bad grammar, syntax, whatever it's called. I jump from past to present tense a couple times here... just go with it and enjoy the story*****

I had a cold. It was an icky cold, but totally live-through-able (don't mock my made-up language!). I had the usual, runny/stuffy nose, sore throat, cough, but it wasn't extreme and I had no other effects. I just tried to not breathe on anything or anyone. I carried tissues with me everywhere and I took cold medicine. It took me like 2 weeks to get over it... then I was fine for 1 or 2 days.

Yes, you read that right... just one or two measly little days. wtf cold?! When it came back... I assumed it was the same cold. It started the same way my last one ended, but I stopped taking medicine because I thought "oh, this is the end of the cold, I'll be fine in a day".... that "day" turned into 2 and then it turned into 3 and then I was almost dying on an airplane!


Literally. I thought I was dying.


Okay, you're right... that was an exaggeration. I didn't just think I was dying. I knew I was. And you'll find out how I knew it below...

They called the A group to line up quite a while before they loaded us on the plane. Had I known I would be standing there forever, I wouldn't have left my seat so soon, but as it was I got up, put on my jacket and backpack and wheeled my luggage over to the A 41-45 group section. Then I stood there... and get hot... and got even hotter... and got super hot. I kept thinking they'll call us into the plan, I can take my jacket off, turn the air on above me and be fine... but no. I had already been standing there for a good 15 minutes with people crowded all around me, trying my hardest not to cough or blow my nose so as not to get the evil "omg, you have the black plague, get away from me" look. Finally I decided, screw it, we're not going anywhere anytime soon and I put my hair up in a clip and took my backpack off. That helped a little bit, but not enough. I wanted to take off my jacket. I should have taken off my jacket, but... ... okay, so I was afraid that because I was so hot that I would have sweated in my shirt and I didn't want those around me to see any sweat marks *sigh* Anyway, they finally boarded us and I took a seat some-what close to the front of the plane so I could deboard faster when we got to Oakland. It turned out to be a full flight, but I boarded fairly early on, so I got to sit down, take my jacket off, and let the cool air blow on my face. It was nice... but the niceness left me all too swiftly.

The flight fills quickly and I know it's only a matter of time before someone sits down next to me. I've had some strange experiences with the people who sit next to me (i.e. the guy who fell asleep on me, the 31 year old woman who had a teddy bear and a one of those dead-fish-like handshakes, and the woman who didn't want to put the arm rest down). I didn't see him coming. Had I seen him coming, I might have tried to cough or blow my nose to deter him... maybe even glare menacingly at him. Before I know it, a man appears and as I'm glancing up, I hear the woman sitting in the aisle seat say that no one is sitting between us... The man who takes the seat next to me was wearing a HUGE wool coat... wtf?!?! A wool coat on an airplane! Dude... take that thing off! I've never been on an airplane that was cold... okay... again I lied. The flight from Atlanta to Valdosta in November was cold, but only my feet were cold, my upper body wasn't... anyway, I digress. So I'm already hot. Remember? I took my jacket off when I got to my seat and I opened the vent above me pointing it directly at me... It HAD felt nice... until Mr. HugeWoolCoat sat down.

I couldn't even try to fight for the arm rest. His wool coat was like my kryptonite at that moment. I tried to lean against the window, I fanned myself with my book, I tried to sleep to ignore the heat. I was getting so hot, I even kicked off my shoes. I never take my shoes off on airplanes (I don't know what's been on those airplane floors), but I did this time. I was all over the place in my chair trying to get away from him, but still get the full blast of air from my vent. I can only imagine what the people behind me thought. My hand was over the back of the seat, it was plastered on the wall, it was reaching up every couple minutes to the vent. They must've thought I was crazy. Suddenly, my heat turned to something else. I started to feel nauseous. I had hoped that the feeling would pass, but no... it only grew worse. On top of that, I still had a cold, so I was coughing every now and again. Every time I coughed I thought I was going to throw up right then and there. I frantically searched the seat back in front of me for one of those air sick bags, but there was none. Since when did airlines stop keeping those at each seat?!?! We hadn't even been in the air long enough for the pilot to turn off the seat belt sign. I ordered a ginger ale when the stewardess came around, hoping that I'd get it quickly and it would cool me down and settle my stomach. When the drink finally came, I did feel a little better, which was nice... but it only lasted for a couple seconds. Again, I felt the sensation to vomit. I held it in, but new that I had to get to the restroom and fast. I pushed the steward call button to ask if I could use the restroom even though the seat belt light was still on. About 30 seconds later the seat belt light turned off. Oh, lucky day!! I turned the steward light off, and told Mr. HugeWoolCoat and aisle girl "I'm sorry, but I need to use the restroom." Mr. HugeWoolCoat looked shocked... maybe people he travels with never pee, I don't know... and aisle girl looks annoyed, surely she can see that I'm dying here and will throw up at any second. There is no need for her to give me an evil glare. (Maybe I should have just paused and thrown up on her?) Anyway, the moment I'm standing up in the aisle and away from Mr. HugeWoolCoat, I start to feel better. I'm not feeling normal, mind you, but just a little better. Then I realize that I never put my shoes back on and am now walking down the darkened airplane in my socks with a presumable sweat-soaked shirt. What a mess! (Not even a hot mess... just a mess... that's how bad I felt) Crap! The stewardess is blocking my path to the restroom and doesn't even know that I'm standing behind her trying to pass... argh! It's like the whole plane is working against me!

Finally, I tap her on the shoulder, because clearly she can't hear me whenever I say "excuse me." She moves and I'm home free!!! I practically run/hobble the rest of the way to the restroom. Literally. I even got strange looks from the other two stewards that were busy making beverages at the back of the plane. (You might be wondering why I went to the back of the plane instead of the front restroom when I said that I was seated towards the front... wait, you weren't wondering that until I just pointed out that you should be wondering that? Oh... well... you're wondering it now, so I'll tell you. I am used to sitting towards the back of the plane. I like sitting behind the week and watching the little flap things on the plane during landing, so it was sort've by habit that I started heading that direction... but I also think it was by some divine intervention as well, because I'd only taken 4 steps towards the back when I see a man carrying a young child heading towards the front of the plane to use the restroom... I know this because I turned around while I was waiting for the stewardess to move out of my way and I saw the lavatory light shut off... so there... that's why) I take a look at myself in the mirror and realize I look the same as I always do. I'm a smidgen paler, but not a ton, there are no sweat marks on my shirt, I'm not even that red... I'm not a mess after all... but I still feel like crap.

They have a vent in the restroom too, so I turn that up and aim it at my neck. Ahhh.... If you've ever been in an airplane lavatory, then you know how tiny they are... but to me it felt like my own personal sanctuary for a moment. No wool coats to be found, cool water, tissues, it was amazing. I stayed in there for at least 5 minutes. The other passengers were probably mad at me, but whatever. It was better for us all this way. I some bags that are supposed to be used to toss your "sanitary napkins" away in a sanitary way and figured I could take one and use it as a barf bag if need be. I also splashed water on my face (but not too much, because there is a sign in there saying not to drink the water in there, so I really more like sprinkled water on my cheeks and neck) got a paper towel wet and put it on my neck. I actually started to feel a lot better... nice. So I decide to head out.

I make it back to my seat and I start to feel warm again, but this time I have a cold, wet, paper towel to put on my neck and arms and I feel better. For the rest of the flight, anytime I needed a little refresher I just used the towel. We get to Oakland and as I'm walking towards the outside to meet my sister I recognize the backs of two heads in front of me... I know that I know these people... what are their names? Oh... oh... it's... I play fantasy football with him and his wife is in my mom's sorority... oh man... it's... it's... oh it's Mary? Mary Anne? I don't know there are so many Mary's, Marianne's, Mary Ann's in that sorority I can't keep them all straight. So I tap her on the shoulder and say Mary Anne? And she looks at me and says "It's Mary" and I'm like... Oh, I'm sorry! And I tell her, who I am and say hi to her husband and they tell me that we were just on the same flight! They were visiting their youngest son in San Diego and my mom had told them I was down visiting friends. We say how nice it is to see each other (although truth be told, hardly anyone looks nice after a plane flight) and we go on our ways. I head outside while they head to baggage claim. So... as you may have guessed, I didn't die. Yay! And I didn't throw up either, which is a doubly good thing because 1. that would have ROYALLY sucked, but also 2. I knew people on that flight!

So... after all was said and done, about a week after that flight, I started to feel better cold wise. As of about the 10th, I've started to feel normal again. Even now, as of finally posting this, I still have a stuffy nose and coughs now and again, but I feel worlds better than I did on that flight and the days after. I never felt like throwing up again, never had any aches or pains through this whole cold, it's just been one long cold... which I think has something to do with the dry air from using the heater, and hmm.. maybe we need to change the filters in our heater, that would probably help. Anyways... my point is, I'm not dying quicker than I should be and I feel a lot better. :)

The Return Home

I wrote this on my flight back from Georgia (on the Atlanta to SF leg). I've added a little bit to it while typing it out (in the form of **edit:**s). It's a little overdue, but whatever.

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Delta may very well be the biggest suck fest ever. Okay, so I have to wait to see if my bag makes it or not first for the ultimate verdict, but...

So, Matt and I leave for the airport at 4. It seriously rakes like no time to get there. I go inside to check my bag and no one is at the counter, so I use... the electric kiosk. I am genuinely nervous at this given my previous experiences with said kiosk, but I get up the courage and go to it. I'm trying to take my time in finding my confirmation # in hopes that someone will go to the desk and I can just go to them. No one comes, so I use the kiosk. Things go smoothly. I get my boarding pass, and a guy comes up to the counter and calls my name. I look up and say, "yes" and I bring my bag over to him. Do you know what he said to me? (Of course you don't... I've only told my parents this story so far... **edit: I have told a couple more people since then** well... wait. I guess you would know if you're reading this for a second or more time. In which case Thanks for your continued patronage! =) ) He says that my bag might NOT make it on the flight because I need to have "checked in earlier than 20 minutes before the flight." **edit: I'll have you know, I checked in online the night before, and I checked my bag at the kiosk 24 minutes before the original scheduled flight... it was 54 minutes before the now delayed schedule!** He says something about TSA needing time to check the bag and they are... busy or something? He points to a corner where presumably there was a TSA agent a second ago, but there is no one now. Weird. Anyways... I looked dumbfounded and I was like WHAT?!? and he says, "did you know the flight was delayed?" I respond, "I just found out" but I'm really thinking... why would it matter if I knew before or just now? Like would I get preferential treatment one way or another??! At least the guy did put the sticker on my bag, but anyways. He says the bag might go out first thing tomorrow morning. Freaking Valdosta has only 2 flights out a say (once in the morning and once for my flight now) I'm not a happy camper.

So... like I mentioned my flight is delayed until 5:15. My connection in Atlanta is at 6:55. My layover should have been about an hour, but now it's looking like a 30 minute layover... which means I need to book it once the flight lands. Atlanta airport as I said before has different concourses. I land at the very end of C and am taking off at A. So, I need to run from gate 55 to the tram, then from the tram to gate 25. I'm optimistic I'll make it, but not thrilled about it all. So, the flight boards, we sit there for a while for the stewardess to give some passenger god knows what and we finally take off. It's a fine flight. Pretty with the sun setting over the clouds. It's nice, makes me wish I could paint. Anyway, I listen to my iPod and before I know it we're preparing for landing. The pilot says Atlanta local time is 6:05. Nice! I have 50 minutes, that's more than enough time! I was wrong. It took FOREVER to taxi to the gate. I swear you'd think we'd landed 50 miles away. **edit: There were LOTS of people complaining about the delay, the long taxi time,and missing connections :( ** We get to the gate at 6:20!!! It took us 15 minutes to taxi to the gate and then guess what happened.... go on.... guess... fine, I'll tell you. The jet way was broken!! 10 minutes later, at 6:30, they unload us from the plane via a stairway (like I boarded and deboarded on my way to Georgia). Suddenly my adrenaline starts pumping and I'm off. Okay, so I didn't run to the tram, because well... have you seen me run with a full backpack on? Not pretty. But I make it all the way to the tram, to Concourse A, and to the gate with a couple minutes to spare. Seriously. I'm one of the last few on the flight. I make my way to my seat and there is... a normal sized lady in the spot next to me! Yay! But the armrest is up... I'm not dealing with this again. So, I put it down.

I settle in and then do you know what I hear? A child... directly behind me. that's well and fine and all, I like kids, usually, but this one has taken a liking to pulling on my chair making me flop around. His mom is telling him to stop, which is nice, but we just took off, so I'm a little nervous about how the rest of the flight will go. There are no personal TV sets on each chair this time, so I might just have to stick with reading, writing, and listening to the iPod. Gosh, I hope my bag is there when I land...

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So, there you have it, my post from the sky.

I have a little to add. My bag did in fact get there, thank God! I know it seems like I'm hard on Delta, especially since my bag made it to its destination both times, but the problem I have is that I've traveled a fair amount without these issues. Growing up, my family and I didn't go camping or take road trips (except for the ones to visit my grandparents), we flew around the US and took in the sites. I used to love to fly. I would always be at the counter with my dad when he checked in our bags and I never once saw a hassle. The only time my luggage didn't get to its destination was when my girlfriends and I went to Hawaii after graduation, but the airline got our luggage to us that night with little hassle. Yes, we were upset, but we were assured our luggage would get to us right aware. We were not blamed for the issue in the slightest by the company. I recall later being chastised by our parents for not checking the tag to make sure it had the right destination first, but the airline was gracious. (That experience taught me to always have a change of clothes in your carry on if you check a bag... which by the way, I did have when I went to Georgia) My point is, I felt like Delta mislead me. The signs were wrong, the people that work at the airports were not friendly (except for Roy), and they made me freak out for nothing. Yes, I should have arrived at the airport sooner, but on my way to Georgia I got to the airport an hour ahead of time, which is plenty of time. In fact, it is the recommended time on the Delta website. When I flew out of Georgia I got to the airport 30 minutes early for its first scheduled departure and an hour early for its actual, delayed, departure. It's a small airport, I honestly thought that would be enough time and the Delta website didn't have a recommended time.

In short, I will do everything in my power to not have to fly on Delta ever again. Lizzy, if you're reading this... if you ever want me to visit again, you'll have to pick me up in Jacksonville. :-p

Oh, and the kid sitting behind me on the flight to SF continued to kick the chair through the flight. I could hear his mom yelling at him to stop, but he only listened for about 15 minutes then he got back to it. At one point, he stood up in his seat and grabbed the back of my seat, grabbing my head in the process. It was a saving grace to see my parents standing at the bottom of the elevator when I landed. It was like a breath of fresh air to know that I was done with the kid, done with the delays, and wouldn't have to deal with the loss of luggage (if that had been the case) alone.

As mentioned, the flight did not have the in-seat monitors, but it did have monitors in the aisles. They showed the movie 500 Days of Summer. I enjoyed it, but it's not a movie I would choose to watch again. I'm glad I was able to see it though, it was on my list of movies I wanted to check out.

In the Air

Okay, so these is a large lady sitting next to me on the plane. I'd guess her to be about 280-300 pounds depending on her muscle content. No matter her weight, she was large enough that she did not have the arm rest down when I first got to my seat. I didn't know if she didn't have it down because it wouldn't have been comfortable for her or if she just didn't know it was there. (She definitely wasn't Delta savvy, as I later found out, so it's hard to make a guess on how flight savvy she was.) I was concerned that the arm rest wasn't down because it wouldn't be comfortable for her as she was already spilling over onto my seat, so I just left it up. Ordinarily I would have put it down, but I figured I would be nice in this case and let her decide. After I settle in (get my book out and put my backpack under the seat in front of me) I offer her some gum. (I find it helps my ears adjust during take-off and landing) She accepts and we just wait for the take-off. She makes no motion to put the arm rest down.

Each seat has its own video display on the back of the headrest, so I begin to fiddle with it a little bit after the safety video and take-off. It was sort've hard to navigate at first since I'd never used one before, but I'm usually pretty good about figuring things out. My neighbor's husband (presumably) is telling her how she can turn on the reading light if she needs it by touching a button on the display and then touching the reading light button. She finally gets it and the light goes on... I'm used to this, planes usually have your reading light above the other person, but angled so that it shines down on you... only thing is with our row some wires seem to have gotten crossed because the light above me didn't go on, the light above her went on and shined down on me! She turns it off and tries it again, same thing. I tried my light button and sure enough, the light above my head turns on and shines down on her. Okay, mental note: Wait until you're above the clouds to read your book, because you'd have to ask your neighbor to turn on the light if you want to read otherwise. (I may have made a joke to her about that or said something along the lines of, let me know if you want to read something.) For some reason, she tries the light for a 3rd time... okay lady, clearly it's not going to work as it should, just give it up.

I started fiddling with the touch screen, saw that I'd have to pay for the movies or HBO series, decided against those. I saw there was some satellite TV, but I didn't have my headphones out yet so I couldn't hear anything. The lady sitting next to me didn't have any headphones either, but that didn't stop her from watching CNN. When we got to cruising altitude, I reached down and got out my iPod and headphones, I had planned to just listen to music and read, but I thought I'd try and see if maybe there was something good on the TV first. I plugged my headphones into the armrest (I was in a window seat, so mine plugged into the one between me and the window, not the arm rest that was still up.) and flipped through the TV channels. There wasn't much I felt like watching, so I decided to check out the radio stations... I couldn't get any of those to work, there was just NO sound. I fiddled with the volume even though I could hear the TV fine, but just couldn't get the radio to work. At this point it was like the airplane knew how to calm me down. I think it was trying to say, chill... your suitcase is fine, the lady next to you is nice, and you don't really want to listen to the radio... just try to relax, there's nothing you can do about it now anyway. You see, I didn't get a chance to update my iTunes and iPod for the trip and I was curious about Miley Cyrus' album. The airplane had tons of CDs to listen to and Miley's CD was one of them to choose from! YAY! I got to listen to it without having to buy it, so it was my saving grace. And Halo by Beyonce helped calm me down.

Most of the rest of the flight was uneventful, except 2 things stand out in my mind. First, the lady next to me bought headphones from the stewardess, but then couldn't figure out where to plug them in at, so I told her they were on the arm rest that was up. I wasn't sure if she was still going to leave the arm rest up and just plug them in there, or if she was going to lower it to put her headphones in. She lowered it about halfway, plugged them in and then went back to the screen... I was shocked! This was really not comfortable! Finally when she settled on something to watch, she lowered the arm rest all the way *whew*... unfortunately this sort've squeezed her in the seat a little more, so her thigh kind've billowed out towards me and I needed to squeeze a little more towards the window so I wouldn't feel like I was sitting on her.

The second thing that stands out towards me is that we were totally skipped from the steward when they came around to see if anyone wanted anything to drink. This was the second time they passed through, since it was a long flight. I had an empty cup and a half filled cup of water. She had an empty cup. I don't know what the people in the row next to us had, but our whole row was completely skipped. They asked the people in front of us and the people behind us, but not us. The lady turns to me and says, what's wrong with us? Why skip us?! I had no idea what to say to her, I was just as dumbfounded. Her husband ended up getting up and asking the steward for 2 ginger ales (one for her and one for me... how nice!). I thanked them both. When the steward came with our drinks he claims that he saw our cups and thought we had drinks... umm... too bad the empty cups had TRASH IN THEM, so they are CLEARLY drink-less! Granted, I had some water in a cup on my tray, my neighbor didn't! Anyways, it was a harmless mistake that got rectified, so no harm there. The rest of the flight was fine, listening to music, sometimes watching TV, and generally just being squished up against the window. :)

Then, we landed in Atlanta. It was easy enough to look up and see I needed to go to terminal D (can't remember if they call them terminals there of if there is another name for them at the Atlanta airport), so I followed the crowd downstairs to the tram and got off at D, made my way back upstairs and headed to my gate... which happened to be the furthest one... of course! Oh! I didn't mention that I stopped to pee after I got off the flight. I bring this up because the Atlanta airport is SOOOO CLEAN!! It was amazing. Like seriously, you could totally eat in the bathroom and not be grossed out... well... except for just knowing that you're eating in a bathroom... but it's the cleanest public restroom I've ever been in. Seriously in the airport there were people cleaning up everywhere. It's like, oh, someone threw something in the trash bin, time to change the bag! Okay, maybe not that fast, but still very clean. So, I make it down to my gate and don't see my flight listed, so I go to the screens and see they've changed my gate, to one I've already walked by... of course! I make my way to the new gate and go sit down when some people get up to board the flight before mine. That's when I meet a sweet old lady!

She was so nice and very chatty I might add. She was heading to Texas from North Carolina for her... get this... her 55TH HIGH SCHOOL REUNION!!!! So, I'm not kidding when I say "old lady." She said that last she heard, 300 people had RSVP'd.

...to be continued...

I ALMOST hate Delta, but they didn't completely fail me... yet...

I'm in Georgia!! It's like... way late here and I thought I would be tired since I woke up at 4:15am (after going to bed at midnight) pacific time, but no... still not tired. Boo!

I got to SFO at 5am. My flight was scheduled to take off at 6am. No problem, right? WRONG! I got out of the car and as I was walking towards the Delta signs there was a sign outside that said for all Delta flights if you're flying to or THRU one of the following cities, you check in here (meaning the outside kiosk). Atlanta was listed as one of the cities, and the line looked shorter than the one I saw inside, so I was like "score!" and I stood in line. 5-10 minutes later I'm at the kiosk and the man tells me "Oh, it's not letting me check you in here, you have to go inside." I reply back, "but your sign says that if you're flying through Atlanta then I need to check in here." The man then tells me "yeah, but the machine says I cannot do it. You need to go inside." So I am a little peeved, because it was cold and I thought I was getting a good deal by standing outside and following Delta's signs, but turns out I just wasted time and now have to go inside. I tell the man, "then you should really change your sign because it says to check in here and now you're telling me I can't!" (I was also tired... hello... 4 hours of sleep!)

So, I go inside and I walk the line to find the end and I finally get to what I think is the end of the line... it is! Someone keeps calling more people forward to check in and people are looking happy as they leave. :) Good! Success! .. or so I thought... I get to the front and turns out it's those self-check-in things. No problem. Southwest has these (BTW: I LOVE SOUTHWEST), I've used them, no problem.... again... I was wrong. The machine won't let me check my bag, it tells me something is wrong and I have to see an attendant. WTF? I JUST SAW AN ATTENDANT AND HE TOLD ME TO COME TO YOU STUPID MACHINE! *breathe* calm down... so I call for a guy behind the counter (who presumably are there to help). A girl behind the counter starts talking to me and calling me Jackie and I'm trying to interrupt her and tell her that I'm not Jackie and that I need help nonetheless and she is just rambling on and finally I have to speak over her and say "I'm NOT Jackie. I'm not whoever you think I am." The lady replies, "well, where is Jackie?" to which I say, "I don't know. I don't know who that is, but my machine won't let me check in, can you help me?" ... she has no response and she just walks away. B*tch. Another guy walks by and I just say "what does it mean when it says " and the man stops, looks at the screen and says, oh, you can't check in here, you have to go to that line (and he points to a line behind me... which is clearly labeled International Flights) and I'm like "that line?!" and he goes "no, go stand behind the man in brown"... and that's when I notice there is a smaller line right next to the International Line... I saw this line when I first came after the kiosk guy told me to. I thought it was part of International... I was wrong.

It was the line to go to the Domestics counter... the line that I THOUGHT I went in and instead got to the electronics counter... the only problem is... I have wasted 15 minutes standing in line and trying to deal with this stupid ELECTRONIC thingy and the man in the brown suit HASN'T MOVED since I've been inside!!! It is now like... 5:25. I am still comfortable knowing that I will not miss my flight, but I am FREAKING OUT that they will not take my bag because online it said you had to have your bag checked in 30 minutes before departure for Delta to guarantee it will make it on your flight. So, I go and stand behind the man in brown and start praying. Well... not "praying" per say, more like that "OH GOD PLEASE HELP ME" plead that people get in dire situations... which I guess is like prayer, but with less "thank yous" and more "I promise to never do this and such if you just help me!"

I am standing there for MAYBE 1 minute when an attendant who reminds me of Martin Shorts character in Father of the Bride (where he's like kind've "foreign" but also kind've metro or gay or something) comes up and is asking people when their flight is. I say mine is 6am and he looks at me and goes, "Do you have a boarding pass?" and I said "Yes, but I need to check my bag." He says "Oh no, you can use the electronic check in, it'll be faster, the counter is too long" to which I reply, "I just tried that, it didn't work and the guy back there said to stand in this line." The man (who I will now call Roy because I later find out that is his name) says "Give me your boarding pass. Electronic will work." (I stay in line behind the brown coat man just in case because if Roy is wrong, I don't want to lose my place) I keep a close eye on Roy with my boarding pass and he is trying to work the electronic thing but keeps getting interrupted by people around him (for example the electronic machine next to him didn't print out a boarding pass for the guy using it... see... their technology sucks). I'm watching Roy and it messes up just as it did for me. He turns to me and says "That's NOT a special bag!" and I say "I know! I told the machine it wasn't!"

**okay, please note here... a special bag is something that is heavier, larger, funny shaped, etc than your typical checked bag. I had checked in online the day before and told the computer that I had to check 1 bag and had 0 special bags. I KNOW I said "NO" to the special bag area... but when I looked at the confirmation online it said: 1 checked special bag. I could not go back and edit this online even though I tried.**

Roy finally LIES to the machine. He tells the machine that I'm checking in with 0 bags total. 0 checked and 0 special. The machine is happy and continues on. Then Roy re-checks me in and says I have 1 non-special bag and the machine is like "Oh Roy. You are so nice. I am going to do whatever you want because I believe you. I don't believe that brunette over there with the angry eyes." As I'm watching Roy do his thing, I start to walk over to him because I see the machine asking for a credit card to pay the bag fee. Roy starts yelling, "Ma'am! Ma'am! Where are you, I got it to..." and I'm like "I'm right here. I see that. Thank you SOOOO MUCH!!" and I smile real big and I think about hugging him because THANK THE GOOD LOVING LORD FOR MAKING ROY! He walks off to help someone else and I take my credit card out and put it in the slot and a receipt prints out and I wait for someone behind the counter to come by with one of those long white sticker things that they put on your bag, because that's what I've been watching them do for some time now whenever someone is done paying. So I wait, at this point it's like 5:28. I have "checked" my bag and I have a receipt for payment BEFORE the 5:30 cut off and I am no longer freaking out, although I am still plenty mad that they made me freak out. I think that I am home free... but... oh... what is this you say? Hammy is not lucky enough to be "home free" and Hammy should have handcuffed herself to Roy because the machine CLEARLY like him more than me??? ARGH!!!

The machine tells me again "please insert credit card for payment" and I'm like ?????? but I refuse. I think "NO machine! I will NOT insert my credit card, I have already put it away because you gave me a receipt."... but then I think, what if even though it charged me, it just didn't get all the verification it needed or something... I start to rationalize why the machine might want to see my card again, so I swipe it again. No receipt and the machine mocks me "please insert credit card for payment." Umm... at this point I just want my damn bag GONE, so I put in another credit card and STILL nothing!! So I flag ANOTHER man down and say, umm... I have a receipt but no one has taken my bag, my flight is at 6! and the man says, "oh, hmm.. nothing printed out. Umm... let's call Roy over. ROY! HEY ROY!" Roy doesn't hear him because he's helping other people, (what a busy man Roy is) so the man behind the counter tells me "ask that attendant for him" and he wanders off to help someone else with their bags. So I yell "excuse me sir!" and Roy looks up and says "I'll be right with you ma'am." He finishes whatever he's doing (helping some lady in a wheelchair get in line or something) and walks over and I tell him that the man behind the counter said nothing printed out for the bag, but I paid and have a receipt. The man behind the counter walks up and verifies that nothing printed out. Roy takes my boarding pass AGAIN, scans it and the electronic machine tells Roy IT IS TOO LATE TO CHECK BAGS FOR THIS FLIGHT! Roy says "oh, you're late. you can't check your bag now." and I pretty much verbally STOMP that idea to the ground. I FIRMLY and AGITATEDLY state "NO! I was NOT late! I have been trying to check this bag for 30 minutes. I've been told to stand in 3 different lines. I even have a RECEIPT from the machine saying I paid to check the bag already, but the machine didn't print anything out to put on my bag!" I mean come on Roy... you've already helped me... you KNOW that I'm not late. Are you so busy that you can't remember the brunette who sassed you earlier when she didn't believe that the electronic machine would work for you because it didn't work for her? Anyway... Roy either pitied me or feared me, but either way, he jumped behind the counter and said "I'll take care of this."

Then, this next part, took seriously like 1 minute... 1 minute.... that was ALL it took for him to put some yellow tag on my bag, ask me where I was going ("Valdosta, Georgia"), staple some yellow strip of paper to my boarding pass and tell me "You flight has already boarded. Go to the lady at the security check point. Don't stand in line, just go to the lady" I thought "SWEET! I can jump the line" for a moment, but quickly realized that I'd been fooled before by Delta, not just 10 minutes ago, so I said "thank you" and high tailed it around the corner to security. There was a lady standing at the beginning of the security line, so I stopped at her, waved my boarding pass and yellow stripe at her. She asked me "what time is your flight at?" "6" I reply. She tells me to go to the line all the way to the left. There are maybe 4 people in that line where there at at least 10 in all the others, so I'm feeling a little more at ease... that's when I realize that I didn't actually see what Roy put on my bag... omg!? I told him I was going to Valdosta, he saw my boarding passes, did he mark my bag for Valdosta?? Or just for Atlanta?? OMG! I am NOT paying another $20 in Atlanta to have them take my bags to Valdosta! I don't want to have to go through security AGAIN after I get my bag in Atlanta. I am NOT going down to baggage claim in Atlanta! If my bag is not there in Valdosta, then I will just file a missing bag claim and yell at Delta and curse them to high heaven for this crappy morning! The man checks my ID and boarding pass at the end of the line and I bee line for the shortest security scanner line. I breeze through it (however easily you can breeze through those when you need to remove your shoes, jacket, and take your laptop out and your liquids!) and luckily my departure gate is 2 gates away from security. So I make it with PLENTY of time to board.

I am feeling anxious about my bag, but happy to be on the plane. I walk back to my seat and see who my seatmate is and ... omg... she's big! I mean she wasn't like 400 lbs huge as a house, but she was big. Way bigger than me!

... okay, this will have to continue another day... it's way late and I really should sleep... until next time, where you hear about my seatmate and the nice, old, chatty lady in Atlanta who is going to her 55th high school reunion.

Oh, and the time stamp below is Pacific Time... so it's really 3:06 Eastern time.

Halloween Week

The Thursday before Halloween, I went with Jennifer to the Pirates of Emerson, The Haunting Fields in Fremont. We had a blast. It was really fun to go with just the 2 of us because we didn't get to "hide" as often from the people trying to scare us. It made it more scary and more fun. What I learned is that if I can find something scary humorous, it becomes way less scary. Case in point: We decided on the next attraction based on the length of the line... meaning there was absolutely no one in line so we decided to go to the main Pirates of Emerson attraction. There was this spooky guy crouching down like Quasimodo or something at the end of a long hallway when we first entered and Jennifer says, "How long have you been there for? There was no one in line. You've been waiting a while haven't you?" (or something to that affect) I couldn't help but laugh and so he became more funny than scary when he scurried off. We caught up to him again later and I still laughed. Also in the Gordello (the haunted Brothel attraction) I told one of the dead hookers that Jennifer called her a slut and she laughed and said that she knows my voice and knew it was me and not her. Then later Jennifer yelled "SLUTS!" at a couple girls and one of them was like "WHORES, honey! We're whores." It was so hilarious!!

Now this is not to say that I wasn't still scared sh*tless in these haunted mazes/houses. I was scared twice by one witchy monster thing in one attraction. I yelled back at her that it wasn't fair for her to scare me once I left the room she was in. Also at the end of the Pirates of Emerson attraction this guy came out of no where and roared or something. I was walking behind Jen and I jumped and may have pushed her a little or something I don't remember, but she turned around, saw the guy and took off running. I TRIED to run away but couldn't!! There was some sort've wavy/moving wooden bridge like thing that I kept tripping on. I screamed from the guy scaring me at first and then I was yelling because Jennifer left me!! and I couldn't escape. I ended up running out of the house like a freak. I swear I probably looked like I was doing one of those tires-on-the-ground exercise thingies with my legs and feet flailing all over the place and not running in a straight line. That darned bridge thing was almost the death of me.

So, as you can see... I had a blast.

Then the next night, Friday, I went with Dawn and Veronica and 5 of their other friends to the Sharks game and then to a bar in San Jose to celebrate Dawn's birthday. The Sharks won (YAY!) and I again... had a blast. Since it was the day before Halloween at this point, there were lots of people in costume at the game. At one point they put someone in a Waldo costume up on the Jumbo-tron and it became like a mission for a couple of us to try to find Waldo in the crowd. Eventually we found him and all had a good laugh. There was this little boy sitting with his family in front of us. I swear his mom was regretting bringing him tot he game after they left. He kept wanting to interact with us and basically was only half paying attention to the game. He gave each one of use high fives and fist bumps and kept asking him mom if he was allowed to have the candy that some of the people were having. He tried to play a form of patty cake with Veronica and at one point we think he might have looked up the skirt of one of Veronica's friends. The kid was like 8 or something.

After the game we went to the Britannia Arms, which is only about 2 or so blocks away from the HP Pavilion. (By the way, I hadn't heard of this place before and when Dawn first mentioned it I was like "who is that?" HAHAHA!) There was this one guy who dressed up as JT's "dick in a box" and I asked him to take a picture with Dawn since he was you know... holding a present... and we were out for Dawn's birthday after all! Anyway, it turns out he had some sort've giant blow up penis in his box and he started to inflate it for the picture. The giant pink blow up thing had huge eyes and a grin at the end of it. We all had a good laugh at that. Once I upload the photo onto my laptop I'll edit the post and add it in.

And finally on Halloween, Jennifer had a Birth-o-ween Party. I made her a Dragon Birthday cake because it was Halloween. Nick had the bright idea to put "Jenzilla" on the side of the cake, so I did that. Her party was a costume party, so I dressed up as.... Victoria from Twilight! I think it turned out pretty good. My hair wasn't quite up to par with her hair, but I did the best I could with what I've got (meaning my thin dark hair). My sister sprayed the color in for me and her and my mom pinned in leaves, which I thought gave it a nice touch. :) As with the Dick in a Box photo, I'll post my Halloween costume photo later.

I was surprised to see Jefferey Sam at the party. I haven't seen him since high school I think. I didn't get to chat with him as much as I would have liked. I was all hyped up on energy from my busy end-of-week and then we played beer pong in the garage so I was getting tipsy. I ended up leaving Jen's around 3 am... which really was more like 4 because we turned the clocks back. I got home, removed my make up, put my orange hair in a high pony tail and went to bed. I was so tired that there was no way I could spend the time to wash all the spray out of my hair at 4am! I decided that my pillowcase was going to take one for the team and I'd just wash it later. :)

I ended up waking up the next day at 4pm! Apparently my body needed rest after all that stuff!

...I just punched myself in the face...

WTF self? How could you punch me? What did I ever do to you?! I mean yeah, I might try to fill you with crappy, but delicious, food and I might have missed a couple work outs, but you don't have to be so aggressive about it.

So I guess I was really tired tonight. Sleep deprivation likes to creep up on me sometimes. As I was waking up, from a "nap," I wiped the sleepies from my eyes (okay, maybe you don't call them sleepies, but doesn't that sound so much better than something like "eye crust"), stretched, and promptly knocked myself on the jaw.

I either wasn't awake enough to control the function of my arm and just let gravity pull it back down towards the bed (and thus my face), or I'm angry with myself subconsciously and decided to knock some sense into myself. I'm inclined to believe the later. Besides, if it was the former, then I'd have to be mad at gravity for taking part in the abuse and I can't have a grudge against gravity lest it find out and decide to reek even more havoc on me. Can you imagine? I'd be walking along and then WHAM! HELLO GROUND! because gravity got the sudden urge to exert its full potential on me without warning? No thank you!