Monday, July 30, 2012

um, excuse me?

Tonight I put on my gym clothes and drove to the cracker barrel for dinner. I got there at 545p and got a parking spot right up front. My best friend Natalie asked me if I had hijacked a handicapped spot (because naturally, I txted her to brag about my awesome parking spot). And it made me realize that I had a confession to make: I did hijack a handicapped parking spot once. I know, I know. It doesn't seem like that big of a deal, especially since you probably do it all the time. Except I bet you don't get into verbal altercations with handicapped people when you steal their parking spots.

Here is how it all went down. A few years ago, Emily and I drove out for lunch. She wanted some coffee so we stopped at the Starbucks (that just so happened to be inside of the Teeter that I think was once named the #1 spot in the country to pick up singles. For the record, I've never picked anything other than a fight at this particular Teeter). I pulled into the open spot out front, put my car in park and started txting away while Emily ran in for her shot of espresso. At one point I looked up and saw a man taking a picture of my car. So I did what any rational person would do. I rolled down my window, stuck my head out and said "umm, excuse me?" He immediately started firing off all these reasons why he was taking my picture, the biggest and most important being that I was parked in a handicapped spot without a handicapped sticker. I told him I was pretty sure it was illegal for him to take pictures of people in their cars. He told me it was illegal for me to park in a handicapped spot without a handicapped sticker. He just would NOT let it go. I told him my car was still running, so technically, I wasn't parked there. I told him my lawyer would be calling him. Then, I asked him if he thought he was the handicapped police or something.

He told me that as a matter of fact, he sort of was.  He worked for some handicapped rights coalition and every month they published a newsletter and would include pictures of people abusing handicapped rights. Apparently this newsletter is used by legislators in North Carolina to make laws that protect the rights of the disabled.

I was so angry. I called my lawyer (dad) who immediately called this coalition up and told them they better send him the film from that camera and that any pictures of his daughter that got published would be subject for suit, or something really mean and equally threatening.

And then I googled the coalition.  Because let's be honest. Why would I look anything up before I over reacted? If it weren't for the Googs, I never would have learned that this handicapped coalition only employed handicapped people.

Have you ever had the horrible feeling in your stomach that you get when you realize you have yelled at a handicapped man in the parking lot?! It's similar to the feeling you feel when you realize your lawyer had threatened to sue a handicapped company all because his client was convinced she was right for illegally parking in the handicapped spot at the Teeter.

I had yelled at a handicapped man for being mad at me for illegally parking in a handicapped spot. What kind of wretch does that?

Friday, July 27, 2012

Thirty Before Thirty

6. Understand Kanye West.

You don't have to love him, or know all his lyrics ... just have a basic sense of where he's coming from. Those of us who do this are safe ... once he gets rich enough, those of us who don't will one day spontaneously combust. He can already do the Freddie Krueger dream thing ... bad guy to have against you.

This was really on a list of 30 things everyone should do before they turn 30.

I'm very afraid of turning 30 if this is one of the requirements. 

Thursday, July 26, 2012

squaw valley: epic fail

back in March, I went to San Francisco to see my best friend Jenn. This time though, we were going to drive up to Lake Tahoe where she and her husband have a home overlooking the Lake. Jenn and Ed are quite the snowboarders, and since I hate snowboarders, I knew this could get innneresting. Little did I know just how inneresting it was going to be.

let me preface this with a few fun factoids:
1. i grew up skiing
2. in seventh grade, i had a skiing accident. it involved 3 big fat men, a bunny slope, a giant red "SLOW" sign with too much space underneath it,  my head colliding with the three big fat men, and a hospital. Sometimes, my head still gets a sharp pain where it collided with the big fat men.
3. i had a panic attack in high school atop a black that involved me screaming, me not being able to move, and the ski patrol sled.
4. it seems that as long as i stay on the greens and blues, i can successfully avoid the ski patrol and panic attacks.

So, off we go to Squaw Valley for day one of some fun in the sun. We drive up and the first thing I notice is the giant "Home of the 1960 Olypmics" sign. Uhh, scuse? The Olympics were here? It was at this moment I knew - deep down in my gut - that this was not a good idea. We suit up and walk to the gondola line. Here I am, the stupid east coaster, thinking it would be a normal ski lift. Wrong. It was a giant globe with about 100 people stuffed inside. The best part is that you can see all around you, which for a normal person, this would be really breathtaking to see all that beautiful scenery as you go up and up. Except, the further up we went, the worse I felt. The bigger my gut got and pretty soon I knew I was going to throw up. Everyone was SO chatty on that stupid gondola and all I wanted to do was get the hell off. I wasn't just born yesterday. I knew the higher up the mountain we went, the harder it was going to be for me to get down. Now, it's important to note that my entire ski party was aware of my skiing history. Yet here we were at the top of the teal line:

We got off the gondola and my shit immediately hit the fan. I froze. My heart started palpitating. I started sweating. My eyes started crying. Before I knew it, Jenn and I had sent Ed on his way and we were sitting on the slope. Jenn was being very motivational but I wasn't having it. She finally offered me a xanax and a ride down on her snowboard. I would be lying if I said riding down on her back on her snowboard didn't cross my mind but in the end, I decided to be a man about it. After the xany kicked in, I sent Jenn off and said I'd meet them at the bottom. She reminded me that I should just go for it, because my solution of walking down was going to take forever. "I got this" I told her as she glided off into the distance. As soon as she was out of eye shot, I took off my skis and began my mighty trek down the mountain.

About ten minutes into my sweaty, shaky, very prayerful pilgrimage, I received an answer to prayer when I spotted several ski patrolmen - with a sled! - about 50 feet away. Since I have no shame, and I really just wanted off that God forsaken mountain, I walked myself to their station and politely asked for a ride down to the bottom. You know how when you feel clausterphobic in an elevator? That's how I felt. Except I wasn't surrounded by walls and smelly people. I just needed to be done. After determining that I was not hurt, and was just in fact just a giant wimp, they began strapping me in to the ski sled. And much like I had said to Jenn just a few minutes before, I told them: "I got this." And off we sledded into the distance. I will say Squaw Valley is quite breathtaking on the back of a sled. They dumped me out at the bottom and I was home free. Immediately upon dumping, I stopped sweating, stopped shaking and realized I was going to live.

So I found myself a seat at the bonfire and waited for the troops to arrive. And I called my mother and told her I would be putting my skis and all of my ski gear up for sale on ebay.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

why i will continue to eat the chicken

You knew this was coming - my two cents on the whole Chick Fil A hubbub surrounding Dan Cathy's remarks that they do not support gay marriage. I mean, after all, this is my blog and everyone is entitled to my opinion.

Let me first start by saying that i have several close connections to Chick Fil A and the Cathy family. They are good people, whether you want to believe it or not.

Here is my biggest issue: why is this even such a big deal what the owners of Chick Fil A believe in about gay marriage? They aren't discriminating.  They don't refuse to serve anyone who comes through their doors (or in my case, their drive thru window) because of their sexual preference. It would be discrimination if they did, but they don't.  There are several Chicks I have frequented over the years that have employed gay people. And I have been in line behind countless gay people who have ordered chicken nuggets and been served extra Polynesian sauce JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE IN LINE. All the Chick is doing is using their profits to support something they believe in. Something they believe in based on their RELIGIOUS FREEDOMS. Because they live in America, where these things are allowed. I really don't get it. It's their opinion, it's their money, and they are a private company. They aren't mandated to spend their money in any way other than how they see fit. Just like you and I are allowed to spend our money how we see fit. ($450 shoes? Yes, please).

The funny thing is, if this weren't associated with any religion, it probably wouldn't even matter. Everyone is always out to get the Christians. But if this were some athiest group donating money to an anti-gay organization, it probably wouldn't even make the county newspaper. But the minute you throw Jesus into the ring, it becomes a full on dog fight. Yes, Jesus loved everyone. And yes, the Bible has some things in it that don't really apply to today's society. But it's still the word of God. And part of being a Christian is incorporating that word of God into your life. If that means running your company on the principles you find in that book, then that is YOUR prerogative. And while no one is perfect, let's remember something that we all learned in Sunday School:

Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.

All these people running around griping about what the Chick is doing with their money should probably just be quiet. After all, we do live in 'merica. And just like you're entitled to think what you want about the Chick (and even protest it and never eat there again in your entire life), they are entitled to do what they want with their money. If you don't agree, don't eat their chicken. It's as simple as that. It's not some complicated hate filled conspiracy against the gays. It's simply a Christian organization putting into practice what they believe.

Let's find something else to holler about. Like, I don't know. Maybe everyone who hates the Chick should use all the money they used to spend there and sponsor a child from World Vision who has no clue what a chicken biscuit even is. Think of all the kids who could be fed (literally, spiritually, figuratively) this way. And even if you hate Christians, you can't deny that the kids who need sponsors don't tug at your heart strings, even just a little.

Oh, and on another note, I think it's awesome that the Chick stands up for what they believe in. Maybe we should all take note of that. Corporate America wouldn't be so effed up if we all stood up for our beliefs every once in awhile.

daily truth.

(from my hilarious friend over at What Should We Call Me)


Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Thought for the day.

Today I did the sound of music tour through Salzburg, Austria. The bus driver, Ferdinand, taped a picture of Arnold Schwarzenegger to the bus. We asked him if Austrians loved Arnold like Germans loved the hoff. He laughed and said that they did.

I immediately felt like I should be wearing a fanny pack and a tank top.