Do You Want To Drive?

Ive come to terms with the fact that there is one condition where I feel completely comfortable driving – and that is when I am in the passenger seat.

Unsatisfactory driving condition breakdown, ahem:

When I am in a hurry

My life is a string of activities held together by unrealistic travel times; therefore, a majority of my life is spent trying to get somewhere faster than it is physically possible.  Again, we stumble onto my reoccurring problem with unrealistic expectations, or in this case, commuting realities. My apartment to my parent’s house in 25 minutes? Sure! Work in Framingham to my apartment in Boston in less than 45 minutes at 5:00 on a Friday?  Doable.  Boston to the Martha’s Vineyard ferry in less than two hours? Totally realistic. It is also imminent that I will hit the worst traffic when I am in the biggest hurry [please see When in traffic.]

What happens when I am driving in a hurry:

Oh hey, constant state of anxious panic! I’ve missed you.  Elevated heartrate?  Check.  Compulsively switching lanes to keep from breaking? Check. Yelling at the car in front of me? Check.  Constantly staring at the clock?  Check.  Either listening to music really loudly, or accidentally sitting in complete silence?  Check.  Doing all this while also looking for undercover staties? Check.

When I am in traffic:

I am not a good traffic driver. I absolutely abhor sitting bumper to bumper for no apparent reason other than a minivan with a flat tire in the breakdown lane.  Bostonians are naturally a curious, some say noisy, breed; combine inbred curious personalities with awful driving technique and you’ll get the perfect set up for an additional accident due to staring at said mini-van.  There is nothing to see, fellow drivers.  Less looking and more foot-to-gas-pedal, please.

What happens when I am driving in traffic?

Let the games begin!  As soon as I see brake lights, I almost immediately fly into the lane that is moving the fastest and try to ride on the coattails of the drivers in front of me to bypass traffic.  Once I realize that I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, I then pick a car in another lane and race it…while in traffic. The game changes when I am in a rush, to which I then become that girl who rides the bumper of the car in front of me in hopes of getting them to go faster, you know, because its their fault that I am sitting in traffic with only 15 minutes to get home.

When its raining:

95% of Massachusetts drivers panic and/or completely forget how to drive when any form of moisture falls from the sky.  It is water, people, not molten lava. Regardless, rain means windshield wipers, windshield wipers mean distracted driving, distracted driving means traffic. I hate traffic [please see When in traffic –are we sensing a trend?]

What happens when I am driving in the rain?

Since my windshield wipers now work, a majority of my drive consists of my smiling at said functioning windshield wipers, and giving Gertrude in the Subaru in front of me plenty of space as she breaks for puddles.

When its monsooning:

Rain is one thing, but outright downpours are another. No one likes driving while being unable to see.

What happens when I am driving in a monsoon?

White knuckle driving, hands at ten and two. No talking. Most likely on the verge of tears.

When its snowing:

I am better at driving in the snow than you are, I can dig my car out faster than you, and I can get my car out of almost any snowed-in parking space.  Yes, I am talking to you.  My vast experience comes from father-taught skidding seminars, living in the arctic tundra throughout my collegiate years, and one particularly bad 9 hour drive home from Burlington, Vermont a la blizzard that has left me very confident in my abilities to drive in the snow. I am not worried about my driving in the snow; I am worried about yours.

What happens when I am driving in the snow?

Space. Lots of space happens in the snow. I give you space; you give me space; and we both win when you go into a decent skid into the other lane, and I am able to stop with nailing you. You are very welcome. If the weather is considered blizzarding and requires actual attention, please see When its monsooning.

When its dark:

For those of you who don’t know, I am nearsighted and am in complete denial over the fact that I need to wear my glasses in order to see far distances. Darkness heightens my said blindness, yet I still never have my glasses with me when I need them.  Need me to read an upcoming exit sign?  Not going to happen. 

What happens when I am driving in the dark?

I lock my doors (stranger danger), and start squinting a la Long Duck Dong.  Yes, that was just a reference to “Sixteen Candles.”

When I have acquaintance-level people in the car:

Obviously, I am completely comfortable driving around my friends and family – its when friends-of-friends or acquaintances join that this blonde gets a tad uncomfortable. Am I driving too slow?  Are they judging me for not using my blinker?  Do they think my radio pre-set is sub-par?  Are they concerned that I am a hoarding out of my car? All of these thoughts monopolize my brain while I have unfamiliar company in the car, when the majority of my brain power should be actually spent concentrating on the road. Since passengers are most likely only concerned with getting from Point A to Point B quickly and safely, it becomes a mute point if they are enjoying my music selection if we slam into the back of another car because I was fiddling with the radio.  I digress.

What happens when I am driving with other people in the car?

I am always talking; shocking, I know.  I think it is my way of making sure they are entertained for the entirety of the car ride. What, its not normal wanting people to reflect on their car ride fondly?  Would you mind filling out a post-ride survey outlining your Sass experience?

When its sunny:

You’d think that a sunny day would be an anxiety free experience, but then I remember that beautiful April day in 2010, when I technically totaled Sass…so then there’s that…

At any rate, you can see how most likely shouldn't operate a motor vehicle at all since my attention is almost always focused on something other than the actual road.

(Disclaimer: I am actually a very good driver, I just hate doing it.)

Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen

Just kidding, only confessions from me…a just slightly neurotic twenty-something…not nearly as dramatic, but definitely as hormonal.

1. I spend way too much time thinking about how birds get inside the mall…
2. Hi, my name is Kristin and I am a fan of Wilson Phillips. You are too, you should watch this video.
3. Apparently, every time I get up from my desk, I hum and/or sing whatever song is currently stuck in my head. Unfortunate for those who dislike Wilson Phillips, see #2.
4. I think those who don’t utilize resistance on cardio machines are wimps.
5. Sitting Indian style > sitting any other way.
6. I have double jointed hips and toes. #ballerinaproblems
7. I only buy OPI nail polish…and its because I think the color names are witty, kind of like me.
8. Apparently, I am the only person who despises cantaloupe.
9. I have to actively not pick nail polish off my fingernails.
10. There is nothing more annoying to me than someone who misspells my name.
11. Best feeling ever = newly sharpened pencil. Note: pencil can be both of the lead and make-up variety.
12. According to most bridesmaid dress measurement charts, my chest size is 3 sizes larger than the rest of my body. I keep reminding myself that some women pay to have this problem. Right.
13. I am twenty five years old, and I still say the alphabet when I bend the tab on top of a seltzer can. You do the math.
14. If I need chocolate, it seems as though any type will do…in unrelated news, did you know there is chocolate whipped cream?
15. There is often abnormally loud cracks that come from my joints. I blame 22 years of dance, my mother blames 20 years of purposeful cracking.
16. I notice when people don’t wash their hands in a public bathroom. They are lucky I don’t chase after them with hand sanitizer
17. My dresser is from the infant department of target…and now I get emails weekly about Target’s nursery furniture sales. Just because I lived in a small apartment does not make me an expectant mother, Target.
18. My afternoon snack almost always includes a glass of almond milk. Am I six?
19. If you are busy enough, no one will notice that you haven’t styled your hair or worn anything but Ugg boots to work for the past 3 weeks.
20. It is now unnatural for me to use an informal contraction in any type of writing – informal or not. What – you don’t feel like you’ve committed a crime when you use don’t instead of do not?
    

TGIT

This happened. #irishgirlproblems.

Daylight Savings Directly Caused Me To Re-Live Middle School

[Disclaimer: this is a story I just have to put out into the universe…but I feel like a cyber bully…]

This morning was odd. For one, getting out of bed post time change has been, well, just plain painful.
I am a morning person, but I am no morning person when the clock says its 6AM, but it is really 5AM. That makes my clock a liar, and we all know how I feel about those.
Daylight savings caused me sleep loss.
At any rate, there I was this morning with an unusual craving for a caffeinated beverage, and knowing what my day had in store, I indulged and stopped. That should have been my first clue that something in my day was to go awry…the last time I stopped for coffee “just because” was about ten minutes before the Great Car Accident of 2010. Click here if you haven’t read that gem yet…
Daylight savings caused me sleep loss which caused me to stop for caffeine.
Immediately after walking into Starbucks, I regretted my decision to stop for coffee. The line was far too long for the caffeine headache I was undoubtedly going to get at 3:00PM because I so rarely drink caffeine. I almost turned around, but I decided to stay. As I am haphazardly catching up on some of my Words With Friends games (which has become a chore in and of itself), I hear a “Oh my god! Is that you Kristin Dacey?!”

That is a line that I never like to hear, but that is a line I am down-right afraid to hear if I am a) in my hometown, b) not wearing any make up, or c) in a hurry. Luckily for me, this morning I hit the trifecta.

I turn around with my best fake sorority smile, not knowing who to expect, and there she was: my middle school bully.

I will be the first to admit that middle school sucks. Period. People who say they liked middle school are one of two things:

1. A bold-face liar
2. One of those mean girls who peaked far too early in their social career.

The middle school bully was not popular or pretty…she was just a girl, who didn’t want a new girl to join her social circle…and I had. Because no one actually wants to hear about my middle school baggage, and frankly, I am not ready to be that transparent, we will just go on record as saying that she was mostly successful re: making my life miserable…I mean, it is only healthy to scrub your name off a bathroom wall so many times before it starts to wear you down.

Back to the Starbucks, I am now make-up-less face-to-face with the bully…and we are both in the same snail’s pace line. I was stuck.
Daylight savings caused me sleep loss which caused me to stop for caffeine which led me to see Bully.
I have to say, we had a very nice conversation and I left with a caffeinated beverage, and a little extra oomph in my step.

Why, you might ask? Because I ran into the middle school bully, and she was ugly and unemployed.

My mom will be thrilled to know that her prediction of 15 years ago has come to fruition. Does it make me a bad person that I am not upset that she was right?

TGIT

I have decided that if I were ever to vacate my desk quickly, this is what I would have left someone else to not only clean up, but also decipher.

This is what I am currently dealing with on my desk.


For those of you who do not have beyond perfect vision, I will highlight some of my favorite "reminders"

• to start, one of them simply says "Friday." Your guess is as good as mine as to what that could possibly be reminding me of. Perhaps I was supposed to do something super important on Friday that I couldn't forget, or maybe I was merely wishing it was Friday. Either way, this sticky proves useless.
• Another good one is the one that reads: "Travel Idea! Do not forget..." Well, thank the lord I wrote that down, never mind leaving myself a hint as to what this amazing travel idea might be. Again, this is another super helpful and descriptive sticky note.
• there is also a sticky note with a library call number that will spit you in the middle of the Celiac Disease section of my library if someone were to actually look it up...as well as a sticky note reminding myself of a rock version of the "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy" song from the Nutcracker.

....maybe I should think about utilizing the voice memo or reminder option in my iPhone.

Ode to CVS

Because of my ungodly amount of prescription meds [thanks for that, bod] I find myself frequenting CVS far more than any normal person should. It is with that caveat that I explain, CVS is my drug.

For one, the second I walk into CVS, my body releases an unusual amount of Seratonin/Dopamine/every other happy-enducing hormone that my body produces. It’s like I subconsciously know that my every want and need is going to be fulfilled before I leave the very doors I just entered. CVS is like my fix.

Its layout is nearly perfect for the way my brain functions. To start, the shopping baskets are placed in the most obnoxious place - I can’t walk in without tripping over them. To some might be annoying, but to others [like me who attempt to balance all their goods in one arm while trying to grab something on the bottom shelf] it is a blessing. CVS reminds me of my shortcomings.

Immediately, I am spit into the aisle where I actually need something, which is conveniently connected to the aisle containing the things I don’t need, per se, but probably should have, which is conveniently connected to the make-up aisle, which then syncs me up with the nail polish section, which leads me to what I call the “Aleve and Celiac” aisle, which syncs to the “as seen on tv” aisle, followed by the yummy drink and vitamin aisle, which connects me back to the pharmacy where I can get one of my 1345 prescriptions and skip the line at the front of the store, created by the woman trying to pay with all coupons and pennies. Phew.

Before I tip my hat to their corporate store-planners, [bravo, corporate, bravo], I would also like to toot my own horn, as I believe that I not only have perfected the CVS shopping experience, but have also single-handedly employ most of the pharmacists on hand at any given time. This is another reason I simply adore CVS- I can get snacks and anti-anxiety meds in the same place. CVS is created for [just slightly neurotic] twenty-somethings just like me.

Lastly, being on the pharmacy VIP list also has its perks [no pun intended.] For one, I am on a conversational basis with all pharmacists: one of them knows my name and asks how many I am picking up, another one tells me that I haven’t changed since second grade. Secondly, I now have the CVS phone number memorized for when I get automatic refill reminders. I now avoid the call, acting like it’s a bad boyfriend, but always end up at the CVS for my weekly pick-me-up. CVS knows that I forget everything if it isn’t causing me immediate anxiety.