Road Rageous

Road Rageous
I like to think of myself as sweet, peaceful and kind. Thoughtful of others and that I wear my Live and Let Live hat 24/7.

Then there are times when people just get to me. Take yesterday for example. It's 12:30pm and I've got my girl Carla loaded in my hooptie and we're heading out of our work parking lot to pick up some vanilla lattes at Starbucks. As we near the exit of the parking lot, I see that some fool has left his white work truck parked within the parameters of the entrance/exit dip in the sidewalk. I don't mean that the fender is slightly entering the area, I mean that the entire length of the truck is sealing off the exit portion. I am forced to veer around it and exit through the entrance (risking some speed demon coming back from lunch and hitting me - it could happen). I become so incensed that I give the truck a blast of my horn. Wait, let me do another one. Then another one. Then I literally lay on it as I drive down the block so that if this jerk is in Gevork's Garage (the place of business next door to our office that has unlawful parkers infringing on us daily), then he can hear my wrath and know that this honk's for him.

The rest of the drive goes without incident and Carla and I have a lovely time dancing in the Starbucks while we wait for our lattes. I show off my pop locking moves and Carla and I do a full verse from some 80s rap song that now escapes me; but it sure did make the barrista giggle.

Into my car again and I put her in reverse. I'm a cautious driver mind you and I'm not so much accelerating as I'm easing off the brake when this puke colored Beetle comes barreling down behind me and gives me a terse "toot toot" of his horn! "Are you kidding me?!" I shriek, as this yahoo exaggeratingly steers around me like I could have killed him. My response to this of course is to honk my way out of the parking lot, once again, making sure the offender knows, that honk is for them.

The day is long but lovely (it is Administrative Professionals Day and I receive lots of flowers, a cupcake, a pizza party and a swell lipgloss and nail polish set) but still, 6 o'clock can't come fast enough.

Light rain drops hit the windshield on my way home and I'm calm and relaxed knowing that I don't have a single plan except to lounge and enjoy American Idol with perhaps a nice fire going.

I'm in the home stretch as I arrive at a small stop signed intersection just a few blocks from my house singing along to "The Wizard and I" from Wicked. It's one of those intersections where the distance between the four stopping points isn't quite equal, and the folks stopped to the left of me are a little further away than those to the right of me. I stop just after the far person on my left, and as I enter the intersection; the fool behind that first left man figures he'll go right on the heels of him without waiting for me to go. I don't want to get hit so I don't continue out much further but you can best believe that I gave him a full, and long lasting blast while yelling within the confines of my car "OH NO YOU DON'T! IT'S MY TURN!!"

I'm quiet the rest of the way home wondering if people have always been such terrible and inconsiderate drivers, or if perhaps I'm becoming an old lady who's now prone to using my horn to scold or "talk back" to my fellow drivers who make the mistake of misusing their horns on me.

In preparing to type out this blog today, I asked Carla to refresh my memory on who the first victim of my wrath was yesterday, and her response was "Wasn't it that old man who honked at you at Carl's Junior?...Oh wait, that was the day before."

Bless my heart.

Toadstools anyone?

When I was wee, I hated mushrooms. Hated them! I would NOT eat a mushroom no matter what (even though I'm pretty sure I hadn't even tried one), I specifically remember making a big deal about refusing them in any form.

One sunny afternoon when I was about three years old, my five year old sister Rina and I were playing in our backyard. Rina was sitting atop her majestic rocking horse "Penny." Penny was a great and beautiful animal; made of thick plastic and suspended in an aluminum frame in which she rocked back and forth by means of a squeaky coil and spring system. Penny was necessary to any game of queen, princess, maiden or any make believe situation where one required a quick getaway on a plastic steed - her hooves tucked under her as if frozen in full gallop. Being the older sister, Rina always seemed to win the race to claim Penny as hers during our play sessions, and this one was no different.

I was off frolicking in the grass when I came upon a patch of forbidden toadstools (a fancy name for the poisonous wild mushrooms our mother warned us to steer clear of). I picked one and examined it. I remember the look on my sister's face as she screamed "DON'T EAT THOSE LORELEI! DOOOOOOOON'T!"

Don't eat it? Hmmmmm....I slapped my hands over my ears to demonstrate in no uncertain terms that I indeed was not listening, and stared right at her while I chewed up the sandy toadstool with a grinning open mouth.

I can still see my sister clearly in my mind, perched on Penny with her face in total panic. The memory becomes silent because my hands are over my ears, but I can see her mouthing the word "MOMMY!"

The next thing I recall is sitting on a high hospital bed with the bars raised so I don't fall off (or perhaps can't make a break for it) and there's a big nurse looming over me foisting a kidney shaped bowl in my face. Beside the nurse stands my mother, her friend Borghild and my Gramma. They are all frowning and shaking their heads at me in a "you did this to you" sort of way.

I know I threw up a lot. Not sure if it was induced or natural; but I'll tell you this; I never ate another toadstool, no matter how much fun it appeared to be.

Wednesday's Jubilation

My husband and I were invited to play at Second City this past Wednesday in a show called 4Play. It's three sets, each a different form, then the teachers jam; which is the portion we'd be playing in. Of course we were very honored to be asked, but to say I was a bit nervous is a major understatement.

I was having an "ugly day". My hair looks like I just got out of the pool and let it dry that way. My makeup looks bedraggled, and to add to it made it look cakey, but to smudge at it made it look washed out. I wore my "show clothes" to work, but had reason to reconsider when our friend from Second City advised me in an end of the day email to dress "casual nice." So much for the sweet tee and jeans.

Went home to change and though I didn't really like the way my clothes were looking, headed out anyhow; we had just enough time to get to the theater and figure out something in the area to eat for dinner before we went onstage.

It's 7:07pm and I'm happy to find a metered spot at the corner of Crescent Heights and Melrose; but the sign says "2 hour parking Except Sundays" - it doesn't say "Until 6pm" like the rest of them do. Whatever. We'll go ask the folks at the theater how long the show is and if they think the parking is cool etc. When we get there, there's a young guy sweeping the floor who advises us that the theater isn't open until more like 7:30pm.

I tell him Dave invited us and we just wanted to know A. if where we parked is ok, and B. what is this show exactly (at this point we don't know - we were just invited to "come play").

He assures us we're parked correctly then tells us to come back after 7:30 when they open. Fine. After considering all the closer meters that say "After 6pm" we move my car and decide to walk down the street to look for food. Guess what: there's no such thing as a grab and go type of restaurant for as far as my eyes could see. We walk a few blocks, I have to pee, my blood sugar is plummeting and with every storefront window we pass, I can see how not cute I'm looking. I'm nervous because I don't know what I've signed up for and I'm cranky as a baby and cannot even muster a half-assed fake smile or contribute to his elation at the impending show.

Bless my husband's heart for continuing to walk with me by the way; I might have given an Eeyore like myself the silent treatment at this point.

We realize that there'll be no eating before the show; so let's walk all the way back and check in again at the theater, and I can visit the restroom before I drown in my own urine.

The young guy with the broom greets us once more and we ask him if he's seen Dave. "Dave who?" "Dave Razowsky, he invited us. We're in the show." "You're in the show??" he looks very surprised and is eyeing me specifically. "Yes."
He blinks at me "Are you serious?"
"Yeees?"
"Seriously??" he presses, and I shrink inside myself.
"Yeah. So anyway, where is the restroom?"
"We actually share one with the Improv next door so just go over there and tell them to let you in."

A man with a clipboard is standing outside the Improv, and when I tell him that I am from Second City and need the bathroom he says "No I'm sorry I can't let you in." and just stares at me.
"Are you serious?" After an awkward silence betwen us he says
"Ha ha ha, no, go on in. You should see your face."
No I shouldn't.

There are two dolled up twenty-something girls walking into the restroom just ahead of me and they are in full chat mode as they slam the doors on their individual stalls. "Oh my god! I can't believe she said that to you. What did you do?" There's a pause and the other girl says "Uhhh...I'll tell you in a sec." then continues "OH, so Courtney went over to Jeff's last night!" "Reeeeally? And what did she say?" "Uhhh...I'll tell you in a sec."
Apparently these conversations are stilted on my behalf, afterall there's nothing separating me from them but a few panels of metal, and I might be from the press or something.

I'm sitting there shaking my head at these girls when one of them bursts out with "OH my god! I just ate sushi and my pee STINKS!!"
The other one shrieks "I know! Don't you hate that? I was talking about that with Jill the other day and she didn't believe me! It's totally true, sushi makes your pee fully stiiiink!"

What? How is it not okay for me to hear what some nameless girl did when another nameless girl said something that I didn't hear in the first place? Or what "Courtney" had to say about going over to some guy named Jeff's house - yet it's completely acceptable to let me know how noxious their pee is?

Flush. Flush. Flush.

We all scuttle over to the sinks at the same time, and though there were several available, only I and one of stinky pee girls washed our hands. While we stand there, girl one washes her hands next to me, and girl two stands by weakly smiling at me like you would at an elderly woman in front of you in the grocery line.

One more check in the mirror confirms that I certainly have looked better in my life, but I decide to go give 'em hell at Second City anyhow; and guess what? I had a really great show.

Back From Green Land

So Tuesday night I had a real intensive class at my theater. I had just enough time to grab an order of california roll and shrimp tempura roll from the Chinese place across the street and eat it real fast (I know, Chinese sushi?). Anyhoo it was great, class was crazy and I slept just fine.

I woke up Wednesday morning feeling like someone had put a rotten brick in my stomache. I had driven Darrin to and from class the night before, so his car was still at the office; meaning I had to drive him to work, and drop off a few dvds that I had rented for work way the hell at the other end of Burbank.

Naturally I took every wrong route to get from A to B to C, and was in the car over an hour in total. With each block I drove I slouched over a little more and turned a richer shade of green.

When I got home I was shaking, hot, achey and nauseaus beyond belief. I put my hair in a ponytail "just in case" but all my troubles found a different exit if you get my meaning.

All in all I was in the bed two days, and during that time was only able to get down the equivalent of two meals. On day one I couldn't even go near the kitchen to get any water or sprite because there was food in there. YICK.


My big kitty Tiny sure enjoyed having me home I'll tell you. He showed me the fine art of catnapping for long periods of time which we both apparently really needed.

There is some debate among my friends and family whether it was food poisoning or some kind of flu. Though I couldn't even mention the "F" word (food) during my sickness, I don't think it was the sushi. Isn't it funny how we feel defensive when someone suggests we made ourselves sick by eating poisonous food? At least I do. But I've had a lot of friends get a nice 24 hour flu of late, so I'm going to go on record as stating it was the flu. Do I feel the need to patronize the Chinese sushi place anytime soon? Ssshhhhhh! No.

I'm back in the office today and better, if not well.