Friends, hello! It’s been a while, I know. I’ve missed you. Between vacation and Labor Day and Rosh Hashanah, I’ve just lost track of time – days have blended into one. Do I observe Rosh Hashanah? Well, no, but I’ll use just about anything as an excuse for not writing.
But oh, never fear I’m back. And I know exactly what day today is: Friday the 13th. Spoooky! Look out for Jason. Or was it Freddy Krueger? I’ve never been able to keep them straight. Those movies? Not for me. I’m far to impressionable and anxious for that sort of thing.
And if today’s the 13th, that makes tomorrow the 14th…of September. My birthday! I’ll be 29 years young. Which makes me just over 4 in dog years. Or would I be 203? Eh, I’ve never been one for math. Or dogs. Tomorrow is also the 199th anniversary of the writing of the Star Spangled Banner and the 8th birthday of Sean Preston Federline (aka Britney Spears’ eldest son) so yeah, pretty important date in history right there.
Usually I make quite the ‘do over my birthday (remember how deep and introspective I was last year? Oh young Liz, how wise you were) but this year I’m just sort of meh about the whole situation. It’s kind of weird. Is it possible I’m becoming less self-absorbed in my old age? Have I been cured?!
Let’s work on keeping the All Liz All the Time mentality alive by looking back at what was keeping it awkward these past few weeks.
An early birthday gift from my pores. Reminding me that you’re never too old for problem skin.
Or terrible selfies.
Or errant bra straps.
I am KILLING IT today.
This Laundry Pod:
Have you guys heard about these things? They’re little plastic pods filled with laundry detergent and apparently sometimes children mistake them for candy and eat them and then they die. Which is just GREAT! Now I can add “death by laundry’ to the list of accidental household tragedies that might befall my future children, right in between dry drowning and falling on a sharpened pencil, eye first.
The real tragedy of these pods, well, after the child death thing, is that they are very delicate, causing them to burst inside your purse and ruin all of your belongings.
Why did I have laundry pods in my purse? Solid question.
Sunday morning I woke up bright and early with a long to-do list already forming in my head and decided I’d try to beat the laundry crowd by rushing to the laundromat at 8 in the morning. I threw on pants, stuffed my dirty clothes into my sexy backpack, tossed a few pods on the top of my purse and ran out the door. It turns out the early bird does not necessarily get the washing machine, as even at 8 AM the joint was packed. I’m not much of a religious gal, but I know this much is true: hell is a crowded laundromat on a hot summer morning.
I snagged the one open machine, shoved my clothes inside, reached into my purse to grab a detergent pod and discovered that my purse was now covered in wet, blue laundry detergent. It turns out that one of the pods had popped and created quite the mess – blue goo coated my wallet, my phone, my book, my keys, the five tea bags that I inexplicably have been carrying around for the last six weeks, several tampons of varying absorbancies, the lid to a sharpie marker, a pair of nail clippers, a tape measure…well, you get it…all the important and sophisticated lady stuff that I lug around was smothered in detergent.
Luckily this wasn’t my only pod and the other one remained intact, so I tossed that one into the washing machine, pressed start and ran back to home to rinse off my goods, only to realize four feet from my apartment that I’d left my phone sitting on top of the washing machine. How’d it get there? Why I took it out of my purse to take this photo, of course. Priorities! i burst into the apartment, threw my purse into the sink, yelled to Brian “I’m having a bad morning!!” and ran back out the door, literally sprinting the four blocks back to the laundromat, praying that my phone had yet to be swiped.
Praise be to the laundry gods: it was still there.
I ran back home, rinsed off the contents of my purse, ran back, nearly murdered a man in race to claim the one open dryer, brought my hanging clothes back to the apartment, hung them, chugged a cup of coffee, ran BACK, retrieved my clothes from the dryer and finally returned home.
It was now 9:30 in the morning.
The first and very very VERY last time i attempt anything productive before at least noon.
This Coffee Truck:
My favorite in the city! They park outside of our office nearly every morning and have a customer rewards card – ten coffees and the 11th is free! I’m a sucker for rewards cards, I will do just about anything for free stuff.
I’ve long maintained that the hardest thing to do pre-caffeine is acquire caffeine. (Also spell caffeine – did you know it’s an I before E exception?!) Yesterday morning we had an early meeting and I had just enough time to grab an iced coffee before rushing upstairs. I whipped out my debit card only to realize I was trying to pay with my drivers’ license. Then his square app wasn’t working and I didn’t have time to wait around, so I asked if I could come back later and pay.
He looked at me like I had 9 heads when I asked what I should leave for collateral.
Upon rereading this might be one of those ‘had to be there’ stories but I’ve come this far, there’s no deleting now!
Red Black Carpet:
Spread out by our building maintenance staff on rainy days, they prevent slippy floors but provide hazards of their own. See that crack where the two pieces meet? I nearly BIT IT on the way out the door yesterday afternoon but I thiiiink I managed to save it by turning my near-trip into a sort of jaunty, exuberant leap.
A whooole lot of people saw, but I’m hoping that instead of seeing me as a clutz, they think me a unique butterfly of a person, dancing through life.
This Logic Puzzle:
Brian and I may or may not have spent last Friday night doing logic puzzles late, LATE into the evening.
I know what you’re thinking and no, it is not possible to be any cooler than we are, so you can just stop trying right now.
This Diet Coke:
So like any good addict, I keep trying to drop my DC habit, only to get pulled right back in. I wish I knew how to quit you, Diet Coke. You are the Jake Gyllenhaal to my Heath Ledger. I just want to take you into my mountain tent and love you like you deserve. IS THAT SO WRONG, I ask? Is that so wrong?
One day last week I swore I wasn’t going to hit the vending machines, but sure enough, 2 PM rolled around and I was basically going through high level withdrawal symptoms so I caved. I had no money so I scrounged up a bunch of dimes from the bottom of my purse and headed for the vending machine. I should have taken this as a sign that maaaybe I didn’t need to be indulging – if you can’t even pull out four quarters, do you really deserve a treat? Probably not.
And yet, I persisted. I popped those ten dimes in one by one by one and pushed the button for Diet Coke. The machine rumbled and shook and the can tumbled out with a decidedly flat plonk. SOMETHING was amiss!
The can was perfectly sealed, and yet basically empty. The exterior was dented on every side. Gross? Gross. There was a 700% chance it was filled with poison and yet ANOTHER sign that Diet Coke might not love me as much as I love it, but I would not give up. After begging for quarters to buy another can I took the encouragement of some friends (hi MG!) and took it to the source.
First I took to the Twitters, delivering what I’m sure is a fatal blow to Coke’s pristine public image:
I then took it a step farther and sent the following email to Coke’s Customer Service hotline:
To Whom It May Concern,
I am a loyal Diet Coke consumer. I drink one can every afternoon. It is the best part of my day. Today I visited the vending machine in my offices for my afternoon soda and the can I received was defective. It was entirely sealed, and yet was empty of liquid. The exterior was heavily dented. This was highly disconcerting, to say the least. I wanted to be sure to relay this tragic incident to your staff right away. I hope that Coke will find a way to remedy this upsetting and troubling situation.
Mildly dramatic? Maaaaaybe just a scoonch. But they need to see my plight! They need to feel my pain! And they need to send me a free can of Diet Coke, please and thank you!! It’s been a week and I’ve had complete radio silence from the Coca-Cola team. RUDE! That is the last time I’ll ever give them a cent…until mid-afternoon today when I start sweating and shaking, at which point I’ll give them 75 of my cents because I have a problem. Big time.
Annnd that’s it. Not my best but maybe not my worst? I’ve been extra hard on myself these past few weeks, I’m thinking that might need to change come 29. No point wasting time with negativity, now is there?
And what are you up to this weekend? Going to a surprise party for your favorite blogger?! SSSH! You’re not supposed to tell!
Har har har. Seriously, though, what’s the latest? I’ve missed you!
xo 28-year-old Liz