i bet you feel like you were actually there

Several months ago Michelle and I had the brilliant revelation that a sitcom should be made based on our lives because we are hilarious and America deserves to be treated our wit and humor that for thirty minutes weekly.  

One night we sat down to write the pilot.  After we worked for approximately five hours we decided that actually writing a sitcom was A. LOT. OF. WORK.  Since then the only progress we've made on the sitcom is giving events in our life sitcom titles.

"Laura and Michelle Get a New Refrigerator"

"Laura and Michelle Have an Ill-fated Hair Experiment with Hot Rollers"

"Laura and Michelle Finally Take Their Christmas Decorations Down in March."

Well, this weekend we decided to visit the Titanic that's on exhibit at a museum in the city.  And we named the adventure "Laura and Michelle Take Philadelphia."

On Sunday morning we checked the train schedules only to find out that the line that we would typically take was closed for maintenance.  That meant that we had to drive to a train station in a neighboring suburb, and since I'm more familiar with the area than Michelle, I agreed to handle the train part of the journey if she would take charge of actual city navigation.

When we arrived at the train station, I pulled my car into a perfectly convenient spot, but unfortunately it was only pick up/drop off parking.  

 I drove to the next lot.  

Permit parking only. 

So I did the only thing left to do in the situation, which was park next to the dumpster in the back of the McDonald's parking lot and cross my fingers that parking enforcement would assume the car belonged to either a McDonald's employee or someone enjoying a daylong fast food feast and not an individual disobeying the MCDONALD'S PARKING ONLY signs.

We parked and ran across the street to the train platform, all the while pondering WHERE EXACTLY THE OCCASIONAL REGIONAL RAIL COMMUTER IS SUPPOSED TO PARK THESE DAYS.

And then we climbed up on the platform and looked behind it and to what did our wondering eyes did appear but a GIGANTIC, EMPTY, FREE OF CHARGE PARKING LOT.  

Evidently that's where the occasional regional rail commuter is supposed to park these days.

Well.  Now we know.

We made it to the city, and once we hopped off the train we wandered around looking for someplace to eat lunch.  And wandered and wandered and wandered some more until Michelle finally said "I JUST KNEW WE SHOULD HAVE PACKED A LUNCH" and I started quoting an article I read one time about "food deserts" in big cities. 

Finally, AND I DO MEAN FINALLY, we caught sight of a promising sign that said "The Mix."  Michelle had worked in an office the area a few years ago and remembered The Mix as a store where you could buy customized bags of fancy mixed nuts, but we decided to give it a try anyway and when we realized it was actually a restaurant I almost kissed the menu.

We looked over the menus and I talked a big game about not being able to decide between the grilled pear salad and the chopped salad, but when the waitress came over I let my true colors shine and ordered the chicken the chicken bacon ranch sandwich with french fries, please and thank you.

It was delicious.

From there we strolled down to the museum.  The line to buy tickets was nearly OUT THE DOOR but thanks to the wonders of modern technology and our quick thinking, we bought tickets on our iPhones and picked them up at will call.  

It worked out perfectly really, because Michelle has been wanting to experience a real will call window ever since she ordered concert tickets a few weeks ago, selected the will call option, AND THEN CALLED.  

ON HER TELEPHONE.   

We spent several hours wandering around the museum and the Titanic exhibit.  It was very interesting and I learned a lot that I didn't know but I don't have much to say about it here because it's not really a humorous topic and let's be honest, humor is my wheelhouse.

We caught the 6:16 train home and by the time we got to our stop I was so nervous about my car being towed from McDonald's that I was shaking.  

I'm happy to report Old Blue was right where I left her.

So when our sitcom comes out, don't expect the episode "Laura and Michelle Take on the Parking Authority."

at least if someone wants to buy me a shirt, they will know my size

I am supposed to be at work at 8:00 every morning.  In reality, that loosely translates to me careening into the parking lot on two wheels at approximately 7:59 a.m., Monday through Friday.  Part of the reason why I am JUST ABOUT ON TIME each each day is that I iron my outfit in the morning, but fail to build "ironing time" into my morning schedule.

Every night at approximately 9:30 I say to myself, "Self, you should really take ten minutes and iron a pair of pants before you go to sleep." 

And then an internal debate takes place which inevitably ends with me deciding that I'd rather get in bed and read for an hour, and leave the ironing for the morning.

For the record, that has never been the right decision.

But things changed last night.  

I decided to iron a pair of pants before bed.  It was a monumental decision and one that paid off this morning.  I had time to spare and was even able to dry my hair completely instead of just pinning the damp sections into a clip and crossing my fingers that if I put the heat on full blast in the car it will dry by the time I get to work. I also chose coordinating accessories to go with the cute blouse I was wearing AND made myself breakfast.

In short, I had it TOTALLY TOGETHER this morning.

So please imagine the disappointment I felt as I was sitting at my desk this afternoon and looked down to see this big M sticker on my shirt. 

Awesome.

 Still room to improve, evidently.

just a typical weekday

Yesterday was long and rainy and dreary, so I stopped at Ikea on my way home from work because nothing can make a gray day brighter like some unnecessary but competitively priced throw pillows.

 

Unfortunately, in an unprecedented turn of events, I didn’t see anything worth buying at Ikea.  And so I decided to head home, except Ikea is in the midst of a remodel and I couldn’t find the exit.   

COULD. NOT. FIND. IT. 

I wandered around the home textiles department for a sweet forever and even texted Michelle to tell her that I was lost in Ikea.  Apparently I chose to visit during the stage in the remodeling process when the EXIT signs have not yet been moved to accurately reflect the updated exits. 

So that was fun.

I may or may not have made a pit stop at the cafe to order myself a plate of Swedish meatballs because WHEN IN ROME.  Or WHEN IN A SWEDISH RETAIL STORE, as the case may be.

I finally, and I do mean finally, made it to the parking lot.  I decided to take the back roads to my apartment, which have less far traffic but involve several four way stops.

Listen. I think it’s time that we as Americans to start behaving at four way stops the way God and civil engineers intended.There are most certainly times when it is appropriate to let a car pull out in front of you or wave them along.  A four way stop sign is not one of those times.

Letting someone go out of turn at a four way stop throws off the mojo of the entire intersection.  I’m talking to you, lady in the blue Subaru station wagon who waved on FIVE CARS while we waited at a stop sign.

I came home, made myself a bowl of turkey chili and a glass of wine, and watched Ellen Degeneres and Bill Cosby commencement speeches on youtube because the excitement around here NEVER ENDS.

While one video was loading I clicked over to the local news website to catch up on all the goings on, and saw this.

Well, hmm.  

I'm not so sure I like what this says about me!!

putting the brakes on. literally.

Well, this weekend started off with a bang.  

And by that I obviously mean a trip to Target.  

  

Matt and I went to buy a board game, but he wanted to take a look at seeds and bulbs and other assorted garden accessories and I had to grab some milk, so we agreed to separate at first and then reconvene in the board game department. 

Well, guess who showed up to the board game aisle with not only a half a gallon of milk, but also a container of broccoli cheddar soup, gift wrap, and a bag of miniature bell peppers.

I’m telling you, that Matt is always going crazy in Target.

Oh, I kid.  

It was me.   

I could justify all of my purchases except for the miniature bell peppers.  I had no real need for them but they were just so adorable I couldn’t resist.

After we picked out a game and paid, we were on our way.  Until we got into the car and Matt realized his blood sugar was low (he has diabetes), so we made a pit stop at the grocery store on the way home.  I waited in the car while he ran in with two dollars and returned a few minutes later with a candy bar and a Spicy Nines lottery ticket.

Wow.

 He is unpredictable.

He is also in the same tax bracket he was in before the Spicy Nines purchase, because unfortunately it was not a winner.

I try to keep this blog profanity free because HI MOM AND DAD, but the game we bought at Target was called Smart Ass.  It’s a funny game for a group, and what made it even funnier was that in an effort to censor himself, Matt called it Smart Beep.   

It’s a trivia game, but there is a board with a few spots with special directions.  

Dumb ass, move back three spaces.   

Hard ass, you get to answer a bonus question.  

It lost some of the effect when Matt would say “HAHA YOU LANDED ON DUMB BEEP, MOVE BACK THREE.”

On Saturday I woke up at the crack of 11:30, and after lunch I drove to Matt’s so he could replace the front brakes on my car.  

Here’s a word to the wise.  You should probably not wait until after your boyfriend has removed your entire front wheel AND brake system to ask him “So, how many times have you changed brakes before?”  

Because he might tell you that this is the first time he’s ever done it, and that may or may not cause you to go into a panic, and you may or may not have to go inside and lay on the couch and watch HGTV until it’s all over.

 

I’m not speaking from experience or anything.

After my car was back in one piece, we took it for a spin to test the new brakes and so Matt could check out my gas pedal.  As I mentioned in my last post, my foot has been especially tired while driving lately, leading me to believe that there’s an issue with my gas pedal.  

Matt drove fast and slow and with cruise control and without and on highways and side streets and stopped suddenly and went up hills and around corners and after he tested every possible driving scenario, he turned to me and said, “Well, your car is working just fine.  There is nothing wrong with your gas pedal.”  

What he probably wasn’t expecting was for me to say, “OH NO. WELL THEN WHAT DO YOU THINK IS WRONG WITH MY FOOT?”

Listen.  God bless Matt.  It must be exhausting to date me.

That’s when he drove us to the river and we got OUT OF THE CAR and walked and walked along the water and enjoyed the springtime weather, the warmest and sunniest we’ve had in months. 

 

We found the dam and then Matt chased some geese and also communicated with them in a very realistic geese honk that he evidently perfected during hunting season.  

 If I closed my eyes, I couldn’t tell which honks were Matt’s and which were the actual geese.

Ladies, he’s all mine. 

Says the girl who does a mean dial tone imitation.

It eventually started to get chilly, so we got back in the car and went for a ride, which is one of my very favorite things to do.  We rode all around in one of the most affluent suburbs and looked at all the fancy homes and picked up flyers for any that were for sale.  

If only Matt had a winning Spicy Nines ticket, this little shack could be his.

And now, it's time for a brand new week.  

I am THRILLED that we now have an extra hour of daylight.  I plan to take lots of evening walks.  

Hopefully they make my foot stronger.  I'd like this gas pedal/tired foot situation will be resolved once and for all.

a whole bunch of things that aren't really related

Welp, I just washed my hair with apple cider vinegar.

Just your typical Thursday around here.

I read about the benefits of apple cider vinegar online the other day, and figured I’d give it a whirl because who can say no to something that promises such REMARKABLE RESULTS?  

NOT. I.

My hair does feel very smooth and clean, but unfortunately I smell like I went for a swim in a pickle jar.  Here’s hoping that subsides by tomorrow morning, because last week I showed up to work smelling like a margarita, and if I show up tomorrow smelling like a hoagie sandwich with excessive condiments, people might start exercising their constitutional right to complain.

I’m sad to say that my vinegar hair washing experience was one of the most exciting things that happened this week.  I spent the majority of the day yesterday making trips to the biggest window in the office to monitor the arrival of what the meteorologists promised would be A MAJOR WINTER WEATHER EVENT.  

But when I left work at 5:30?  

DRY AS A BONE.  

In fact, the BIRDS WERE CHIRPING.  I turned on my windshield wipers as I drove home in a show of solidarity with the ever-optimistic weather people and an attempt to will the sky to snow, but it was all in vain.  

The night was completely precipitation-free, which just goes to show you that no one can create panic for a few million people quite like Philadelphia meteorologists who cry snowstorm.

On Tuesday I spent the day in court, as per usual, but the judge took me and another paralegal out to lunch which was an unexpected bonus.  I rode shotgun on the way to the restaurant and made sure I clicked my seat belt VERY LOUDLY AND SECURELY when we got into the car because I’d hate to commit a legal infraction while in the car with a member of the judiciary.  

We didn’t talk about cases during lunch because EX PARTE COMMUNICATION ALERT, and I tried my hardest to keep my use of legal puns to a minimum.  That was very difficult for me and I literally had to bite my tongue on more than one occasion so I wouldn’t say YOU BE THE JUDGE OF THAT when we were discussing things like the best Penn State quarterbacks and whether bacon or sausage tastes better on a breakfast sandwich.

I did have a pretty funny/witty one liner on the ride back to the courthouse and told the judge he could feel free to use it when he took the bench to make a decision in a big case, just as long as I got some credit via a shout out on the record, so we’ll see how that goes.  

 The ball is in his court now.

There I go again.

It’s like I can’t even help it.

Once again I have several hours of overtime this week so I am planning to take a long, leisurely, middle-of-the-daycation tomorrow.  The last time I did that my car died, so fingers crossed I don’t have a repeat of that little incident. 

Speaking of my car, the other day I mentioned to Matt that I had another concern about Old Blue.  I told him that while I didn’t notice anything different mechanically or performance-wise, heard no strange sounds, and didn’t see any leaks, I was worried because I just felt like my foot was working harder than it normally does when I drive.  

I asked him if he could take a look-see, but I imagine it’s challenging to diagnose a car issue when the only complaint is a tired foot.

Matt was silent for a long time and then very carefully said, “Well...I can look at it for you... but do you think it’s possible that you’re still just a little freaked out by the battery dying last week?”

It turns out that I THINK THAT IS VERY POSSIBLE AND QUITE LIKELY THE EXPLANATION.  WELCOME TO MY BRAIN.

Matt can read me like a book.

So that’s going to be a fun little weekend activity. 

Happy Friday!