Thursday, May 26, 2011

Thursday's Child Has Far to Go...

On my way out of the office this afternoon, the following conversation took place:

Boss: ":See you tomorrow morning."
Me: "No you won't. See you Tuesday."
Boss: "You aren't here tomorrow? Why see you Tuesday?"
Me: "Boss! You have to approve my PTO, you should know that I'm out."
Boss: "And you should know that the minute I approve something, I automatically forget about it."
Me: "You are my boss, you should know what I'm doing. What if I decided to play the system?"
Boss: "I can never tell if you are here anyway so what is the difference?"
Me: ---giving the middle finger with both hands---

My man NEVER knows what I'm doing. If I'm working from home, he assumes I'm on PTO. If I'm on PTO, he still contacts me to see if I can do x y z or if I remember what he said about that thing when we were in the hallway after that meeting. It's fine, whatev, but every so often I think it would be nice if I got paid more if I'm to manage myself so entirely on my own. No, that isn't it. It's that I fear that one day he'll say "oh, yeah, I forgot, you can't take those days off because of a b or c."

But whatev because you know what? I have F-O-U-R days off! Huzzah huzzah huzzah! Four lovely days off to do with what I want. Well, not entirely. Tomorrow night I have dance class* and on Saturday I have to run three miles followed by an easy run of 30 minutes on Sunday, but you know, other than half-marathon training, I'm free to do whatever the fuck I want. This will probably include a lot of naps because I've been super tired lately. Boss thinks it is probably from the increased amount of exercise I've been doing (I ran two and a half miles all at once today!!!) but I think I must be dying. On Monday I took an hour nap at 1PM, took another nap at 4:30, and still went to bed at 10. On Tuesday I went to bed at 9:30 and slept until 7:30. Yesterday I took a nap after work and went to bed at 10. I could have slept until at least 8 if I'd been able to. OK, so maybe I'm not dying but my body seems to want to hibernate. It's S.A.D. but the summer version where too much sun makes you feel like shit. I have a very bad case of this, obviously, as I live in Columbus where I believe it has been raining since last Sunday.

Basically, life is good just now. For me that is. My sister in law is going to take part in a clinical trial that will entail a 3-4 week hospital stay and treatment that is so grueling it might kill her. So life isn't exactly roses, puppies, rainbows, and cunnilingus for that poor chick. But for me it is rad. I met with EA for a one on one status check and I am, evidently, in the minority of administrative workers who have positive morale and a decent working atmosphere. I have several books to read at home and a Red Box within walking distance so I can check out movies on the cheap. Right now I am sitting in the neighborhood bar, drinking 16 ounce pints of  Miller Lite for $2 a pop. I'm trying to pretend I'm 22 and in London again, having a few pints at the pub after school, reading the paper. It isn't working but it is better.

I like myself better these days. Mostly, it is because I'm medicated. But it is also just because I'm older and things did get better (why don't they tell us?!?! why do grown ups never say 'look kid, I know it sucks right now and you won't believe me but really, this shit does get better'?!?!?!) J is at home doing who knows what other than disapproving of me. Eating dinner and studying I guess. But I'm in a good place and am feel rosy and pleased. And I'll take it, even if it is partly due to the Miller Lite.

*This is that hip hop dance class I'm doing at the gym with work chicks. It doesn't really count towards my training but as it is 60 minutes of straight cardio, I can't count it as relaxation either. I treat it as an appointment or meeting so that I don't let others down but I get a kick out of it. Also, please don't give me more credit than I deserve. 'Dance class' sounds like I studied for years and still keep it up. This is just a gym class that I've taken once so far. So before you think about giving me credit --- fuck you!

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

And J has been with me for 7 years today; good man that J

Hitting on the Naked Chick
I hit the building when I parked my car this morning. Again. Since working in my present office (for four years mind you), I have hit the physical building three times whilst parking my car. Today's occurrence was the worst because I did it somewhat hard and it hurt me a little. Not enough to keep me from hurrying out of the car with my belongings and getting into the office before someone figured out what that noise was and came looking, but still. And the best part is that this happened just minutes after I spent 30 minutes sitting, all but naked, in my gynecologist's office.

Honestly, why bother with any gown at all at this point? I mean, it is made out of paper, which I inevitably rip, is a pain in the ass to figure out, and just gets in the way. Sure, I had the modesty gown and extra sheath but that doesn't mean I didn't also have my tits out at various points and my twat front and center for probing. So why don't we just shelve this little masquerade of 'gowns' and call a spade a space. If you want to offer cover ups, give me a terry cloth cumber-bun and some thigh high wool socks so that while I'm waiting on you, I don't freeze.  Paper gown aside, I like my gynecologist. The first time I met with her she performed a very thorough past medical history exam with me before delving into my lady regions. My GP didn't cover nearly so much and she is supposed to oversee my total health! My gyno is also an old hand at developing relationships, evidently, as she had noted somewhere that last time we met (in May of 2010), I was preparing for a trip to Alaska. Imagine her taking notes on people to establish a bond! She's also very committed to women's health and is happy to explain things in detail should you ask. So A+ lady doctor!

Solitary Refinement
I could be wrong (doubtful), but I'm fairly certain that when I got my new work computer that I was given Windows 7 in order for me to rededicate myself to spider solitaire. Windows 7 is the closest Microsoft has gotten to ripping off Apple and the new solitaire is fun looking so I am determined to beat it on the difficult (all four suits ) setting just to see what happens. You may think this isn't a good use of my time when on the clock but let's face it, my boss gives me so many asinine tasks that waste time equally to playing spider solitaire so I may as well enjoy myself. And let's give credit where credit is due. I had to find spider solitaire on my new system. It wasn't just listed under Programs - All Programs - Accessories - Games. I had to search for it. But I powered through the pain and was rewarded with what appears to be an even more difficult and cheaty program.

But the point is, I earned it. So leave me alone so I can hit ctrl + z and F2.

Monday, May 23, 2011

Sucks to your asthma

So, no rapture. I read an article about how this guy Camping had used Bible math and had previously predicted the world would end in 1994. The article mentioned another guy who spent $144,000 on advertising the impending end of the world using billboards and subways. If he isn't super pissed and disaffected he must be simply insane.

I will never understand religious people. There were folks who were just absolutely ecstatic with the idea that the world was going to end and that non-believers were going to be tortured. How can people call themselves good people or followers of that first ever hippy Jesus, and delight in the idea of torture? Granted, I don't know too much about religious texts, but I'm fairly certain that Jesus is usually portrayed as loving, forgiving, humble, etc. Christians believe in and love Christ, right? So why do they want to see him be sad as he watches perfectly decent people tortured and tormented? And how could you think of yourself as a good person when what you want is all based on something that you cannot prove even exists? Weird.

Anyhow. Because I am me and I cannot start on any new healthy life style without immediately sabotaging myself, I had my fill of booze this weekend. I do this all the time. The minute I decide to go on a diet and just eat healthy stuff, I scarf down a bag of Oreos and drink a regular Coke. If I decide I'm going to start saving money for something, I go out and buy ridiculous stuff that I don't need. It's like I am my own rebellious child or something. Fortunately, I know all about my little tricks and orneriness so I bounce back quickly. So tomorrow I will go to the gym and run my two miles as I begin the second week of training for this mad half-marathon I plan on running. To keep myself sane and to have something to break up all this crazy running, I am also going to take part in a weekly hip-hop dance class at the gym. My girlfriend, Red, and I went last Friday and it was so much fun. Basically a 60 minute cardio session where we didn't know what we were doing but just tremendous, tremendous fun. Don't I sound healthy?

Finally - it would appear that I do have some sort of allergies that I didn't know about. Or else I'm one of those weird people who are affected by changes in the weather. We had thunderstorms last night and I woke up achy and my head was wonky. So I stayed home after getting permission to work from my laptop from my boss, and have been formatting minutes and feeling crummy. My boss told me to try some allergy medication, which J gave me, and after I took a nap on my lunch break, I think it might have done the trick. I can't tell you how annoyed I am to be affected by weather though. It just seems so stupid and weak. No, I know, that makes zero sense but that is how I've always been. I've always made fun of people for being allergic to the planet they live in because I am a heartless cunt, apparently. I think I didn't really understand that they were truly suffering and that they were just being whiny. It wasn't until recently (and before I found out that I have a ragweed allergy) that it finally dawned on me that I'm just super duper lucky because I see how J suffers and I see how the people at work suffer. Poor bastards. So I guess I should just take my weather affected self and be pleased it isn't worse.

Especially since I live in OH. Apparently coming to OH is the opposite of moving to Arizona where people take their asthmatic kids. J developed asthma from moving here for crissakes! 

Saturday, May 21, 2011


On July 30, 2007, J and I packed a ten-foot U-Haul with all of our possessions, my little toy car attached to the back. We would be making the 495 mile drive to Columbus, Ohio early the next morning. Early in the afternoon, J's doctor called with results of a recent x-ray or CT scan, I can't remember which.

See a pulmonologist, she said, there is a shade on your films that may be lymphoma.

We set out very early, 5:30 a.m. in fact, for what would be a nine-hour drive, J doing most of it, my taking the Pennsylvania turnpike complete with an unsettling toll booth experience. When we arrived at our destination, I had the wonderful experience of J, for once, telling me I was right about something. "You know, Kitty," he said, "I really fought against the idea of hiring movers and said go ahead, thinking it was a waste, but now I'm all for it and am really glad you did it." We were exhausted and having two men help us move all of our crap up three flights of stairs was a god send.

J did go to see a pulmologist, and underwent more tests, only to be told that he probably did have lymphoma but he'd have to have surgery to biopsy the large mass between his lungs to know for sure. We had no money, no friends or family, and he wouldn't see pay check one from school until the end of October. So, of course, I went out to find work.

By this time, what with the stress of no money and no friends and the thought that J had cancer, I was rather stressed out. The stress manifested itself into a physical issue where my right side would go numb throughout the day, for about thirty seconds at a time. It was difficult to walk or use my right arm and even my tongue would go numb on that side, making me speech difficult. I interviewed like that, excusing myself, assuring the interviewer that I was OK but that I just needed a minute. They were always uncomfortable, looking away and offering to get me a glass of water, not really trusting my assurances that I was OK.

My mom and J both thought I had a neurological problem, that I was having mini strokes. But I kept saying I was fine.

And I was right. In the end, I really believe it was just a psychosomatic result of the immense amount of stress I was under. But that isn't to say it wasn't hard. It was an inconvenience during the regular day and embarrassing at those interviews, especially when the American Disabilities Association sent me the rejection letter the next day. It isn't that it was particularly painful, though it was uncomfortable and unsettling, but being unable to reliably speak for any given period of time was incredibly humiliating and difficult. I always remember that, the fact that I had to interview and in every meeting, suddenly sound deaf and have to stop in the middle.

I eventually signed with a temping agency. I took the typing tests and Microsoft Office tests, getting small gigs here and there. I ended up studying up on excel and word to retake the tests for better placements and this is how I ended up at the company where I work today.

By October I was working at a temp gig that was to last a month and it was during this time that J had his surgical biopsy. The surgeon, who oddly enough, worked at Christiana Hospital in our home state of Delaware at one time, told me that on first glance it was lymphoma. He then disappeared on an emergency and none of his staff could be located so I had to break the news.

But then, one day when I was working my month-long gig, J e-mailed me to tell me that it wasn't lymphoma after all, just another bout of sarcoidosis, something he had years ago. It wasn't a lymphoma in his lungs but a mimicking granuloma. I was relieved and joyous, even whilst hating the job I was doing. I almost cried with relief before returning to the day's drudgery because it was the only bit of good news, next to the month-long gig, that we'd had since moving here.

It will be four years on July 31 that we have lived in Columbus and I marvel at how far I've come.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

A Day

So, as you may have noticed, I work for someone who, at very least, has Tea Party leanings. He owns up to it and is the first to admit that he is the demographic. What's more is that he has actually said to me that he is an older white male and referred to that category as a minority in this country. I promptly googled census statistics and hit him with them to show just how ridiculous that statement really is.

It's all down hill from here

The Difficult Job of Dressing Myself

They are finally making my division of the company adhere to the corporate dress code. I heard rumbling about this two weeks ago and today, a Tuesday of all days, the e-mail has gone out. One of the rules is that there is to be no bare shoulders at any time, just like when you visit the Vatican. On 'Casual Friday' we can wear jeans that are in perfect shape and less formal shirts, though no novelty t-shirts or anything with a large slogan or emblem (and just when I got my super rad Better Myths cross-dressing shirt in the mail!) We can wear sneakers and 'deck shoes' on Fridays, but I don't really even know what 'deck shoes' are so I'm rather stumped. They sound like something preppy white people where aboard yachts, don't they?

I'm actually not that bummed about this because, as I've said, I'm super lazy about my clothing. That isn't to say that I don't like clothes or that I'm not girly (totally am) but my laziness far outweighs all my other feelings about this subject. But instead of getting gloomy and sighing with exhaustion at the very idea of this whole dressing like a real person/grown up every day idea, I've simply made a nice little plan. I have scheduled a transfer of funds from my ever dwindling savings account and will go shopping this weekend for self-made uniforms. I will purchase black and gray trousers, black skirts, black and gray blouses, a couple of blazer type jackets, and shoes. Well, I'll buy what I can afford with the money I'm allotting ($380; weird amount, I know, but I wanted to leave $1,000 in savings). The problem now is where to go because I'm so used to only going to Target and Kohls. But I'll e-mail my girlfriend and ask her for advice and just add it to the plan.

Why Dressing Myself Mayn't Matter Before Long

I am now training for a half-marathon that I am planning to attempt in October. My friend, Diego, forwarded me a link with a work-out schedule and told me to just do the first four weeks twice before moving on since I have the time. But I'm still nervous because work-out one calls for me to run two miles all in a row and I haven't even run a single mile all at once in who knows how long. But I will give it my best and stick with it. I've had to shelve the booze so that I can do this, and hope that I'll become inspired to eat right (doubtful). I'm terrified by this 13.1 mile run but also feel it is important to push myself and set goals for myself rather than stagnating. How accomplished would I feel if I actually did this? Super accomplished, that's how. And it might open up a new hobby for me, where I could run a lot and enjoy it and be healthy and all that bull shit. We'll see.

Getting to San Diego for this race is going to be nightmarish. I had to sit on the phone for an hour yesterday and then wait two hours for a call back because my flight had been changed. I will now be flying out of Columbus at 6:15 a.m. and making two transfers before reaching sunny California. I'll need to read up on how to avoid jet lag as best as I can. But! I'll get to visit a new city and do new fun things and meet new people. And I'll miss work and get to travel and all sorts of neat things! Really, this is just win win all around. Maybe I'll get to feel an earth quake (minor one please) and see sharks.


Oh. My. God. My boss, who forwarded me an e-mail this morning, just came to my cube and said "you might want to forward that e-mail to your Muslim friend." Now, I hadn't read the e-mail (it was a forward after all) but I had skimmed it. Here I was thinking it was about skin transplants and how people donate cells or something. When Boss said that I thought "oh, maybe this was about a Muslim group who had started a skin cell bank" or something like that. So, in my stupidity, I got excited and told him about what my Muslim friend and her husband were doing, which is trying to get non-profit status for a legal program that provides legal help (with financial assistance) to Muslims in the community. My boss's response? He essentially said "does your friend make her clients show her their papers and swear an allegiance to our country, publicly denouncing the radical extremism?" I was stunned! He went on to say that anyone who does not stand up and publicly speak out against the terrorists are as bad as terrorists themselves. I told him that, as he is far more familiar with living in the Middle East and dealing with that tyranny than I (because he totally isn't), he of all people should know that there are many who are not terrorists but cannot speak up for fear of reprisal. He went on to say, in his red eyed, tea party, rage-filled way, that Muslim men in this country have nothing to fear. My response was "no, but their families back home do." 

Had I only read that god damned e-mail I would have been prepared.


Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Not the smart one in the family

I just choked on my V8 V-fusion. Remember last time I choked on my own saliva? That was less than three months ago! Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me? At least this time I was able to somewhat control it and not continue barking like a seal and sucking in like a broken vacuum cleaner. Of course, the V8 is now burning my nose and throat and I felt like I'd suffered a hot flash, but at least the GM of the company didn't come loom over my cube wall and make sure I was OK. This time the VP looked in on his way down the hall.

I'm going to chalk it up to nerves. This meeting is getting ever closer and I need to get the agenda out to head mukky muck and I have no idea where it stands. I did ask EA if she could bring it up at the Super Important People (SIP) meeting this morning and let them know I needed to send it by 1PM but I haven't heard since and she is sequestered in her office. What's worse is that my boss still shows no signs of any concern. The people coming are a big deal and we need to treat them as such but Boss doesn't seem to care. Of course, Boss is the kind of guy who shows up late to every meeting just to appear busy and important. Maybe I should just let it go and let the cards fall where they may. After all, head mukky muck's assistant knows how hard I've been trying to get this together as I've been coordinating things with her. And EA knows that I'm working on it. Still, if Boss fails doesn't that mean Boss's assistant fails. Blerg.

In other news, my brother obtained his doctorate of education recently. Actually, I think the graduation is tomorrow. J and I received an invitation, which was nice but 2,500 miles is a bit far to travel. So I wrote a check instead. Then I had to call our mother to make sure I had his name right. Shut up, it isn't like that. When we were kids, my brother always went by his middle name. As an adult, he seems to have begun going by the first initial of his first name and his middle name. That isn't clear. OK, let's say a dude by the name of John Paul Jones always went by Paul but then started going by J. Paul Jones. That's what my brother does now. Only I didn't know if he'd legally changed it to that or not and I'm too stupid to remember where I put the invitation with the name written out. So I called my mom on mother's day and essentially asked "what's Paul's name?" I'm sure she was really proud at that moment.

And I'll leave you with this picture I drew earlier to relieve some of my stress. It didn't work.

Monday, May 9, 2011

Oh Monday....

I kind of got lost on the way to work again today. This time I turned left when I should have turned right when I took a different way into the office. I realized what I had done wrong after a few miles and only had about 15 minutes added to my commute. But I amazed myself with my idiocy.

At the gym I was made to feel inferior by the following two sights:

1: Super fit 50+ year old chick doing walking lunges with 20 pounds on her back, and
2: Super fit, obviously pregnant chick doing jumping squats and walking side lunges.

Neither of them looked particularly sweaty whereas I was dripping as I did my meager 33 minutes on the elliptical. Good looking, in shape people should have a different gym to go to.

Am super nervous because there are a bunch of big wig mukkety mucks coming to my office on Friday and I was somehow put in charge of coordinating things, something I've not done before. What's more, my boss doesn't seem to be too concerned with the meeting even though he was supposed to be in charge of it. So now I have to throw myself at the mercy of a colleague and ask her what to do because I'm incompetent.

But right now I have to go clean out the closets so that the cable guys can rewire and put in hidden cameras tomorrow. I don't know if that is what they are doing, but I like to assume so. They'll learn their lesson when they see how gross I am.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Since signing up with my current company, the first Saturday in May has been something I wait for with eagerness come mid-April. The first Saturday of May is a volunteer day in the city in which I work, one where people go out in the community to help the sick and elderly with household chores and yard work. Today was the third year in a row that I've taken part, the third opportunity I have had. It really is wonderful. You go out and help someone who needs it, appreciates it, looks forward to it. You sacrifice your time, if sacrifice is the word to use, and walk away feeling so great that it is almost as though someone helped you.

All in all, I had a great time... except. There were two moments when I felt awkward and unsure of how to handle myself. The first was when I was washing windows with another girl from my company and we started talking about a former colleague who, essentially, had to leave the company for mental problems. This woman is bi-polar and non-compliant with medication. I stated that I'd heard the theory that she didn't like the weight gain associated with her particular meds. I was then informed that non-compliance with medication is a feature of this disorder. This woman was schooling me in bi-polar. I did my bit, saying that there are varying degrees of severity etc. I didn't push the issue because she wasn't speaking maliciously and I didn't want her to know.

The second awkward moment was when the person we helped thanked us for what we were doing, telling us we should feel good and proud because we looked liked Christians and were doing the Lord's work. It isn't that I was bothered but that I was caught off guard. The GM of my company, who was on my team, said when our lady said 'you all look like Christians to me', "most of us." He knows that I'm an atheist and I appreciated his tact. It was just really weird and I have something to compare it to but let me first give this disclaimer: I'm not saying belief in any religion is the same as racism. I'm just saying that I have the same reaction. Have you ever had someone say something like 'I hate when so and so acts like that but you know how the blacks/hispanics/asians/etc are, always with this that and the other, etc'? You are taken aback by what they are saying and are then abhorred by the fact that they are trying to make it seem like you share their feelings. Again, I'm not saying it is the same thing with regards to the hatred et al, but that is the shock I feel when I am unprepared.

Friday, May 6, 2011


What a fun day this has been. Took Johan to the vet this morning, super pleased to be going to his six-month check up because I was so sure the vet would be all "wow! good job on the weight loss!" Nope, that little fucker gained weight! Not only was I certain that he'd lost at least 1/4 pound, J even thought so. So now I have to buy a different type of food and measure it carefully and maybe run fatty around a little bit more. Super.

Work was boring and unremarkable, which is fine. But the being stuck in traffic and being in two situations where I sat through several cycles of the light on my way home was not so fine. I left at 5:25 and thought I'd be OK but nope! It is Friday and the road outside my office is off limits so traffic was a mega clusterfuck.

But whatev, I got home. I chilled and ate some string cheese (because I'm 7) and then got ready to walk to the store for some beer and dinner. My iPod was strapped on and I was upbeat and happy for the walk after having sat in my car for so long. Guess what? Someone stole my fucking bike. They cut the cord that was attaching the front tire to the bike and bike rack and took the rest of the body and back wheel, along with the u-shaped lock that was attached. I'm pissed and stunned. They stole J's bike last year and, the previous year, my front tire and seat. Assholes.

Still, I soldered on and walked to the store where I purchased me some Sierra Nevada Summerfest and set off home to relax. And I got caught in the rain.

And yet I'm still upbeat... wait, I should probably stop it. Lord knows what will happen next if I keep this sunny disposition shit up!

Take that Charlie Brown.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

If I'm late, it's stupid

I was late to work today. This hasn't happened in awhile and, seeing as it wasn't a Monday, it was a bit surprising. The reason for my lateness, namely abject stupidity, is less surprising. I got lost.

OK, I didn't really get lost on my way in to work (although that has happened to me twice). Instead, I sort of forgot which roads were which and where they led and how they connected. I don't know if it is like this in every state or if it is specific to OH but the roads here connect in funny (read: asinine) ways and they all seem to bisect one another. For instance, if you want to take 315 to 270, you can do so; however, whilst you are trying to exit from 315 to 270, people from 270 are trying to get into your lane to get onto a different highway (70 or 71 I think). The on ramps and off ramps are literally yards apart, causing fabulous traffic jams and a positive Russian Roulette of rush hour. What's more, if you want to take 270 to 71 North (after your harrowing merge from 315), you have to merge onto the on ramp whilst cars are coming from I don't really know where trying to get onto 270.

It isn't always that bad, just during the morning and evening rush when we are all trying to get to work or get back home. The above example comprises my morning commute, 315N to 270W (or E, I don't fucking know) to 71N then merge four lanes to the right and sit in a long line of cars trying to turn onto a busy road. It's awesome. But that isn't the point. The point is that even after having taken that route for two years, I cocked it up this morning and while I didn't necessarily get lost, I didn't, at first, understand where I was. There was something going on on 270; the traffic on 315 to merge was backed up further than usual and we weren't moving. So I decided I'd bypass that nonsense, maneuvered into the far left lane, and proceeded to go straight, all the while thinking "I'll just take 23 to East Campus".

Great plan. No, really. Like I said, all the roads seem to bisect one another and I know of at least four different roads that run perpendicular to 23 that will lead me to various roads that will take me to my office. All roads lead to Rome and Rome's interstate number is 23. My screw up was in forgetting that 315N does not terminate into 23 and that the two roads are totally separate. Yeah, I know, really dumb, but it happened and before I realized my mistake, I wondered the following:

  • 23 has more lanes than this, doesn't it? 
  • Where are all the stores and restaurants?
  • More lanes will probably open up in a minute.
  • That is an enormous house.
  • Why aren't there any traffic lights?
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is when I realized that no, 315 doesn't terminate into 23, it terminates into a scenic bypass. Scenic bypasses are great and I enjoy them as much as the next person but not when it is 8:00 and I'm already late for work. The major problem with them is that you can't immediately correct your error by exiting the bypass. Turn left and you will end up on a private drive; turn right and you'll plunge into the Olentangy. And when you finally get a traffic light, it doesn't have any turn arrows so god help you if someone at the front of the queue needs to turn left because that shit isn't going to happen until the light turns red again and they run it. So you have to crawl along with the other cars, looking up at the massive homes built on the hill, singing along to your iPod and wondering what the fuck is wrong with you.

Fortunately for me, I had actually been on this bypass before, many times. I like driving and have, on an occasional weekend, gone for long meandering drives, sometimes taking this particular road. If I go to the salon on a Saturday, I will take this pretty little way home. So I wasn't actually lost at all, just not where I thought I was going to end up. I still felt dumb as hell though.