Am back. Y’all missed me, right?
Well, not really, Amy. You never update over the weekend so I don’t even bother to come visit and was only vaguely aware that you were somewhere besides sitting on your own couch all weekend.
Oh yeah, I totally missed you. Bitch.
Ok, ok. Please tell me all about your frigging weekend already. Post some pictures and then shut the hell up.
Thank you! I had a lovely weekend, actually. It was quite busy. But right now I’m having that “oh shit oh shit oh shit” feeling that comes from taking a WHOLE DAY OFF from work and then coming back to HOLY MOTHER OF STARBUCKS TORNADO O’ WORK PANIC PANIC SHIT SHIT SHIT.
Also, the CAPS lock key! I missed you, CAPS lock key! I brought you some taffy.
I am really, at this point, just trying to remember to keep up with the breathing.
WEEKEND, PART ONE, THE FIRST
I drove up to Pennsylvania on Friday morning-ish. It was an uneventful drive, except for the eventful parts. All of which involved my E-Z Pass.
Now usually I would have great contempt for “E-Z” anything. But I love my E-Z Pass. You have your own special little lane at tolls that you drive through and you never, ever have to worry about having dollars. Because I never have dollars.
(Seriously. My lunch on Thursday was completely ruined by a BITCH coffee and sandwich place that was not Starbucks that would not let me charge an iced coffee because of some stupid $5 minimum charge policy.)
Anyway. E-Z Pass is great. You occasionally get the morons who drive in the E-Z Pass lane and don’t realize it until the last minute, but these people are not the fault of the E-Z Pass.
I drive through three tolls on my way to my parents’ house. Two in Maryland, one in Delaware. I drove through the first toll and the light didn’t turn green. It turned red, then yellow, which confused me. Do I…drive? With caution? Did I pay the toll? With caution?
I figured maybe I drove through too fast. But the same thing happened at the next toll. And since I am a Good Girl who is terrified of the words “toll violator” but who is also helpless and wussy, I called Jason and ordered him to call the E-Z Pass people and yell at them.
But he was busy doing work stuff so I decided to be a grown-up. At the Delaware toll I pulled into the “E-Z Pass Customer Service” building, and walked in and asked for some E-Z Pass Customer Service. Except that I was a Maryland E-Z Pass Customer, and therefore was ineligible for E-Z Pass Customer Service in Delaware.
So I get back in the car and drive through the regular toll, with all the regular people, and I hold out two lone dollars I managed to find in my purse. The toll lady ignores me completely, so I hold them out higher and wave them a little bit. She says something to me that I cannot hear at all. Here is the rest of the story:
Toll Booth Bitch: *mumble mumble kvetch*
Amy: What? Also, look, dollars!
Toll Booth Bitch: *mumble mumble E-Z Pass*
Amy: (takes a wild guess) Yes, I know my E-Z Pass is not working. Here. Doll. Ars.
Toll Booth Bitch: YOUR E-Z PASS PAID.
Amy: (thoroughly confused now) What? But it hasn’t been working right at the last two…
Toll Booth Bitch: I DON’T FUCKING CARE, YOUR FUCKING E-Z PASS PAID NOW DRIVE ALREADY.
Amy: (mouth drops open, gets the big and watery Precious Moments eyes)
Amy: OH SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY YOU BITCH.
WEEKEND, PART ONE, THE SECOND
Dad and I went to a Phillies game Friday night after it miraculously stopped raining humungous buckets of water.
I sat behind a woman who had the largest head ever. We called her Big Giant Head. Her husband? Next to her? Not a small man himself.
Luckily we got to move over so the game was not obscured by Big Giant Head anymore.
The three stages of baseball, as played by Amy and Amy’s Dad:
1) At the game, but before any beer.
2) At the game, after beer, after the home team scored.
3) At the game, after several beers, after the home team completely blew it.
Yes, the Phillies lost. Congratulations Chicago. And to any Chicago readers, please know that I mean absolutely no offense when I say that Chicago Cubs fans have no sense of humor, are mostly ugly and also smell bad.
But they do have normal-sized heads. I will give you that.
And oh! We were on TV! For real! A whole bunch of people saw us and called my mom to tell her about it. V. exciting. Actually, most people only recognized my dad. Obviously, I have not posted enough damn pictures of myself on the Internet.
WEEKEND, PART TWO, THE FIRST AND ONLY
On Saturday I went shopping with my mom. I bought many things. Many, many things.
But the only picture I have of that day is this:
That’s a garbage can at the mall’s food court. It fucking TALKS to you. It says, “Thank you!” after you put garbage in it.
I thought maybe if you waved your hands in front of it the flap would open for you so you could avoid touching the germy trash flap. That would sort of make sense. But it does not. It just thanks you for your donation of trash.
It would also be cool if it yelled at you for throwing away recyclables. Or maybe snapped closed on your hand if you were wasting food. But no. ‘Tis a stupid trash can. But polite!
WEEKEND, PART THREE, THE FIRST
On Sunday, it was the long-awaited and much-hyped meeting of the JLB Philly girls. It was fun. FUN. And you were not invited. Better luck next time!
Aren’t we pretty? Say we are pretty.
WEEKEND, PART THREE, THE SECOND
After brunch I called:
1) My mother, to let her know that Coleen and Diana were, in fact, exactly who they claimed to be and were not 45-year-old gang members who lured me to brunch to keel me or sell me into white slavery over eBay.
2) Jason, to let him know that I’d be home in about two hours. Maybe two and a half.
Like four hours later? Was still on the road.
My E-Z Pass was working correctly again, but it was not such the timesaver this time because Delaware only had one E-Z Pass lane open.
Also light drizzle in Maryland means you must go verrrrry slowly lest you go careening around a slight bend on 95 and lose control completely and end up in a ditch and die. In fact, it’s better if you put your car in neutral and just sort of coast home. You’ll get there eventually.
WEEKEND, PART THREE, THE THIRD
I am in love with Bed Head After-Party. I have been searching for this product my entire life.
Too bad it sort of looks like a sex toy of some kind. I mean, I don’t love it like that. Except that I totally do.