A few very random, nonsensical stories from my week to make up for my lack of blogging (long post alert!):
*** So, I'm driving home from book club a few nights ago at like 1:30 a.m. I'm behind another car in a left-turn lane. The light turns green but the car doesn't move, and we miss the light. A minute or two later, the light turns green again, and he's STILL not moving. I honk a little. Nothing. I honk again. Nothing. I LEAN on the horn. We miss the light. I get fed up and flip around to go the other way.
But then I'm like, crap, what if something's wrong, so I turn around again and go back to the intersection. I pull up next to him, and I can see him slumped over the wheel, so I jump out of my car and start knocking on his window to wake him up. Nothing. I try the door. Nothing. Now, I'm like, OK, SHOOT, what do I do? Do I call 911? Does this count as an emergency? Will I be arrested for abusing the system? I don't want to go to jail! Should I call the police department? I think I see a cop down the street, should I just go get him? Should I just keep knocking until he wakes up? WHAT DO I DO?
I decide to call 911. I go to my car to get my phone, and another guy pulls up behind us. I run over to tell him, look, you're gonna have to go around this guy, he's asleep and I've been trying to wake up him and now I'm calling the cops. He happens to work as a private security officer and has his radio with him, so he's like, here, I'll call dispatch. Two minutes later, we have FOUR cop cars and two EMTs in the intersection (plus my car, still running with the door hanging open in the middle of the street).
So the cops start pounding on the window with their flashlights, and he doesn't move. They get their lock thingies and try to unlock the door, and can't get it open. Then the paramedic looks in and is like, guys, I don't know if he's breathing, we need to break the window. So they smash the back window and he STILL doesn't wake up, and I'm like HOLY CRAP, what if he's dead, that will be so incredibly freaky, and the guy next to me is like, maybe he's in a diabetic coma, and I'm like, maybe he had a stroke or a heart attack, and he's like, maybe he had an allergic reaction, a really bad one. And back and forth we go.
Well. Apparently our friend in the black Explorer did not have a heart attack or a stroke, he had about 18 Jack and Cokes and was merely inebriated to the point of total nonresponsiveness. The cop took down our info, thanked us for our call and sent us on our merry way.
(Later, when I told people, they were like, YOU ARE INSANE. DO NOT GO UP TO PEOPLE LIKE THAT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, THEY COULD KILL YOU. And here I was just worried about 911 etiquette.)
*** So this guy at work is in a band, and we went to this bar to see him play the other night. And there are two women dancing next to me, and all of a sudden one of them grabs my arm and points. "WHOOPI!" she cries.
She's pointing at this woman:
And, yes, the resemblance was impressive, striking even, but the funniest part to me was that this woman said nothing else, just grabbed my arm and yelled, "WHOOPI!" And now I have to keep fighting the urge to point off into the distance and yell "WHOOPI!!!" for no reason other than it makes me laugh.
*** I finally went to the dentist here, not so much because I'm concerned about my oral health but because I want to do Crest Whitestrips and I want to put those little strips in the best position to succeed by giving them super-clean teeth to work with. So I go, and they give me the "new patient" paperwork to fill out, and there's this whole huge medical history section. And maybe it's just been a while since I've filled out that kind of thing, but oh, my goodness, nosy much, Mr. Dentist? There were SO MANY things on there! The best is that it asks in about 16 different places whether you've had an STD. Like, OK, you said no the first time, but wait! We're going to ask you about VENEREAL diseases now! And herpes! And chlamydia! Like they're going to trick you into finally saying yes. The whole thing was just awkward. (P.S. They scraped the living hell out of my teeth and apparently I have a teeny, tiny cavity in between two of my back teeth, that maybe doesn't HAVE to be filled but should be, so I have to go back in two weeks. NOT THRILLED. Especially since my old dentist had cable and this one doesn't. It is SO much more palatable to have someone sticking drills and sharp objects in your mouth if you can watch Access Hollywood while they're doing it.)
*** We started talking about Miss Cleo at work the other day. No, I have no idea why, that's like asking me to explain cell division and binary fission, some things are just beyond my comprehension. But we were talking about Miss Cleo, which naturally led us to Miss Cleo's Wikipedia page, and did you know that Miss Cleo wasn't even Jamaican? I knew there was some big legal brouhaha a few years ago but I didn't realize that was one of the major takeaways, that she's not even Jamaican. (THE OUTRAGE!)
Anyway, my coworker is in the middle of a Miss Cleo rant when he stops and looks at me: "You totally called her, didn't you?" I look away, like, la la la, I can't hear you, I have things to edit and emails to reply to, and he's like, "You did! You totally called her! I knew it! WHY DOES THAT NOT SURPRISE ME ONE BIT?" And I'm like, well, if it doesn't surprise you one bit, why are you asking and, by the way, I only called for the five free minutes and she didn't even tell me anything ANYWAY.
He stares at me. "You know that wasn't really Miss Cleo, right? When you called?"
"You know they can't predict the future, right?"
He pauses. "So what did they tell you?"
"I don't know. I'd get married to someone with brown hair and have three kids."
"You know that like 90 percent of the population has brown hair, right?"
"I KNOW. I didn't say I was, like, RELYING on it. It was FIVE FREE MINUTES and it was, like, SIX YEARS AGO."
He shakes his head for a very, very long time. "I really do not understand you people."
I throw my hands in the hair. "You people? What is that, you people? What does that even MEAN?"
"WOMEN. I don't understand you WOMEN."
Right. All because of Miss Cleo.
(P.S. Have a great weekend, and by the way, SUNDAY IS EMMY DAY, YAY YAY YAY! I will be blogging during the show as always, with a little surprise this year. See you then!)