Friday, October 29, 2010

Up In The Air

You may have noticed I've been M.I.A. for a while on I'm sure you don't give two beehives where I've been, but I'm going to tell you anyway: I've been on Jessica's Midwest Travel Tour (coming to a city near you). In the past week and two days, I've made my way to Missouri, Kansas, Nebraska, Texas and am currently in Oklahoma. And I am exhausted. I'm pretty sure if I closed my eyes right now, I could sleep for weeks. But I'm not going to do that. "Just keep running," as my nephew would say.

The thing I've learned most over the past few days is that I could never, ever be like George Clooney's character in Up In The Air. I've seen that movie a few times and thought I could relate to him. I absolutely love staying in hotels, so I thought he had the best life ever. I mean, come on, maid service 24-7? I'd never have to pick up after myself again. However, the actual travel part blows with a capital B.

After traveling through DFW, MCI, OMA and OKC in a matter of days, I cannot STAND airports. I hate the stink. I hate the people. I hate security. I hate feeling all sticky/sweaty/greasy after spending all of 12 minutes in an airport. I hate the 13-year-old zits I have acquired since spending 12 minutes in the airport. I hate shuttles. I hate parking. But most of all, I HATE RENTAL CARS.

Case-in-point: A situation like today's. Traveling went fine. (Well, minus the part where I went to Starbucks in the terminal to get an iced green tea UNSWEETENED and they gave me a damn SWEETENED green tea. disgusting. Also, why do they call terminals terminals? That's a very scary thought. Terminal diseases are very scary. I'm probably going to Google that.) But things were not so super when my travel group loaded up in our rental: A brand new Toyota Prius. The car looked great. It had great features, a great hatchback.

However, the actual driving part wasn't so great. In fact, it never happened. We piled into the vehicle, only to find out none of us knew how to reverse the damn thing out of its parking spot. I drive a small boat around Dallas, so I know nothing of this thing called "fuel efficiency." But evidently Priuses (or Prii?) are fuel efficient. After scouting out my first one today, I've decided they're driving inefficient. Any car that quiet can't be trusted.

We pulled out the car's manual, trying to find a solution. Then I whipped out my smartphone to Google "how to reverse a prius out of a parking stall." But no avail. So, we all exited the vehicle and made our way back to the Heartz desk to ask for a different Toyota model.

This isn't my first bad encounter with rental cars though. In fact, my first experience driving a rental car made me swear off ever driving one again. A couple of Aprils ago, while I was on my first NCAA National Gymnastics trip to Stanford, I had an epic rental car FAIL.

I had made my way with the gymnastics team to Stanford's gymnasium for practice. I could have just stayed at the hotel, but decided to check out practice instead. Not to be unprofessional here, but what 20-year-old girl wouldn't want to sit in the stands and watch boys with no shirts on do extremely flexible and strong gymnastics moves? Hot. Mid-way through my gymnastics trance, one of the coaches threw me a set of car keys and asked if I would drive back to the hotel to print off the event sheets. Since I was being a worthless and somewhat perverted pile, I agreed to the task.

I had only driven a minivan one other time in my life. And I'd never driven a rental van period. Nor had I ever driven in Palo Alto, California. NOR did I have any inkling on how to get back to the hotel. But I was trying to be that cool chick who knew how to drive and navigate, so I accepted the task blindly. I probably should have turned back and made one of the assistant coaches go to the hotel after I had driven three miles in the wrong direction. But instead I stopped at a gas station and asked directions to the hotel and found my way in great shape.

However, this is the part that gets hairy. Parking. I've never been a great parker at all. Once I backed into a car in a highly populated area after a Kenny Chesney concert and drove away. And I can't count the number of times I've hit lightpoles with my rear bumper. But this time was different. This time, I decided to try my hand at parking in an underground parking lot beneath the hotel. All was going cars to speak of in the parking lot, so I thought I was home free.....

UNTIL I SIDE-SWIPED A FREAKING POLE WITH THE RENTAL VAN! And it wasn't a little tiny side-swipe. I'm talking a huge, drunk-kid-crashed-his-car-into-a-telephone-pole side-swipe. I heard the pole hit the car (because the car didn't hit the pole... that would make me a bad driver...that pole came out of NOWHERE!) so I backed the car up, only to hear the pole hit the car again. By this time, I had picked up my cell phone and called the only person I could think of... my pops. HE would know what to do! Dad normally wouldn't answer the phone in the middle of the afternoon, but he was in for his half-hour break to watch Judge Judy. I could sense his anger when he answered the phone. Our convo went something like this...

"Dadddddyyyy, what are you doingggg," me asking my father what he was up to, while I was sobbing my eyes out.
"I'm watching Judge Judy, why?" My dad sounding very pissed off here because I was bugging him.
"I, I, I need your help (insert sniffing and sobbing here)" - Me
"Jessica, is everything okay," Dad paused the Judge and sounded very concerned.
"Well...I hit a pole hit my carrrrrr (sobbing and whining here)," -Me
"You DID WHAT?! Where are you?"-Dad
"I'm in Palo Alto," - Me
"Is that close to Lincoln," -Dad
"I dunno...California's quite a ways from Nebraska...." - Me
"Oh J*s*s C*r*st, Jess, what do you want me to do about it? How bad is it? You pulled me away from Judge Judy for this?!!?!?!" -Dad irritated at me.

After a nice long convo with my dad, he decided that I needed to own up to my mishap. So I summoned the courage to sheepishly tell the coaches what I had done. I found my way back to the gymnasium (and yes, I did manage to print off the sheets they had asked for) and walked my tear-stained face in to explain the situation. While two of the coaches laughed their asses off, the third was not to quick to smile. Evidently, the van was under his name instead of the University's name (like the other two rental cars). Sooo, any damage done to the van was on HIS insurance instead of the University's policy. Go figure.

All worked out okay. Luckily, Cali is full of autobody shops, so the coach sweet talked some guy into helping him pop out the dent and repaint the scrapes. The rental car company never knew. I got grief from all 14 gymnasts and a handful of coaches and trainers, but I lived to tell the tale.

On that note, I'm going to bed. I say goodbye to Stillwater tomorrow and head back to Dallas in the morning. Goodnight all!

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Worth Sharing

I was just reading through my second-to-last blog to check for spelling/grammar errors because I always catch some about two weeks after I post. I am seriously world's worst person with an English degree. I rely heavily on Google for all of my spell-checking needs (I just spell-checked the word "grammar." It's that bad.) Ask me about literature and I'll tell you that I think Harry Potter is the best book ever written. I'd never recommend Jane Austen. Why in the hell would you read books that put you to sleep? I need wizardry and wands in my novels. See, WORLD'S WORST ENGLISH DEGREE PERSON.

But anyway, let me go back to why I was writing this entry - my blog from two blogs ago. The one where I mention Grey's Anatomy and the spider that flew out of the guy who looked like a tree.

For some reason, the mentioning of "tree" in my article brought me immediately back to the worst possible thing that could ever have happened to a fat girl (fat girl = me). It's a memory that I choose to repress. Actually, it's not so much that I repress the memory, it's more like I try to pretend the memory was a dream (or more like a nightmare). But it's not. And the mentioning of the man who looks like a tree made me remember this very, VERY vivid memory.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Picture this: Jessica, age 8 or 9 or even 10. Fat. Really fat. Unsure of whether she was a boy or a girl. Short, dark hair. Probably permed because her mom liked to torture her with perm rods. Jessica was probably wearing overalls with a red shirt. She was a Husker fan. And also a fan of overalls. Oh, and Doc Martin's. She had to wear Doc Martins because she had old woman bunions. Get the picture? Jessica was fat, unfashionable, in man shoes and in no condition to do what she did.

But unfortunately Jessica thought she was a monkey. Jacy and Jessica spent a lot of their summer days playing in their "fort" at the end of their drive way. Their fort was magical and full of trees, but no trees were worth climbing because their limbs were so high off the ground. However, the tree right in front of Jessica and Jacy's home was perfect for tree climbing. Jacy somehow managed to hoist herself up into the tree with ease. Probably because she was small and gangly, not unlike a monkey. Although Jessica was about 100 lbs bigger than Jacy, she thought she was just as small and gangly as her younger sister. Kind of like how Saint Bernards think they're Chihuahuas when they live with a bunch of Chihuahuas.

Anyway, after watching Jacy climb the cottonwood tree with ease, Jessica was convinced she could do the same. She put her left leg in between two branches and pushed off her right foot to get into the tree. However, once she stood up (in the tree), she realized her left foot was stuck. Probably due to her bulky wide width shoes and bunions inside. "Oh, no big deal," she thought, "I'll just jiggle my foot a little bit and I'll be able to set my foot free." However, the jiggling made the situation WORSE. She was really stuck. Jessica began to cry and told her sister to get her mother to come out to help. While Jacy pushed on Jessica's foot, their mom pulled on Jessica to try to release her from the tree. Nothing seemed to work.

Jessica's not quite sure what happened next; however, she does know that her neighbors from down the road showed up with a chainsaw. Whether they coincidentally came to visit and just happened to bring their chainsaw along for the ride or whether Jessica's mom called the neighbors for help, Jessica doesn't know. Either way, she knew exactly how cats felt when the fire department was called to get them out.

The neighbors came over, chainsaw in tote, ready to CUT the poor, fat girl from the tree. Jessica, evaluated the pros and cons of keeping her leg. On one hand, if they chainsawed off her leg, she'd weigh at least 50 lbs less than what she did. On the other hand, she wasn't a huge fan of pirates. So, she begged the chainsaw neighbors to let her keep her leg. They chuckled at her and said that they'd cut off the limb of the tree before they took any of Jessica's limbs. "Fewww, that was a close one," Jessica shouted with joy, "I get to keep both of my thunder thighs!" (Which eventually proved useful for young Jessica, who would later adopt the cool nickname, Iron Horse, because of the power her thunder thighs provided. Squatting more than most high school boys could? I.H. could.)

Just as the lumberjacks began to start up their chainsaw, Jessica somehow pulled her foot out of her shoe to step safely down from the tree. Jessica saved both herself and the tree from getting chopped down! Jessica thanked the neighbors graciously for all of their help and then ran to her room to cry for hours. What did her neighbors think? They were surely going to tell the whole town how they almost had to cut a poor little piggy out of a tree.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Yes, folks, I am the poor little piggy. Luckily they didn't tell many people about my prepubescent self. And no, folks, I've never tried climbing a tree since. Actually, later on in elementary school when I was forced to climb the monkey bars for P.E. Fun Day, I refused. I'm pretty sure my P.E. teacher thought it was because I was too fat for the monkey bars, but in reality, those monkey bars reminded me too much of trees.

Just thought I'd share this memory I pulled out from my brain's vault. You can laugh. I don't care. I know I was a chunky monkey. I've accepted it.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

I'm A Creep

After my third straight hour of watching E! this afternoon, I came to the conclusion that I am a real creep. No, I wasn't watching normal E! shows like "Keeping Up With The Kardashians," or "Spin Crowd" (even though I am obsessed with both of those shows). In my first hour, I watched E! Investigates Odd People. The second hour was spent watching E! Investigates Jaycee Dugard. And for the third hour, I watched Too Young To Kill.

For the better part of my ONE free afternoon, I sat around and watched a bunch of weirdos killing each other. That's really, really creepy. What if my coworkers ask what I did all weekend? Am I supposed to tell them that I watched a documentary about a guy who thought he was a vampire start a cult and eventually kill his girlfriend's parents for their blood? No, that makes me sound like a weirdo.

But I personally feel like I was being more educational than creepy. For instance, The Odd People documentary was pretty cool. I learned about cranial conjoined twins, who are pretty famous. They appeared on the Jerry Springer show and have made quite a name for themselves. You've probably never heard of them though because the one chick can't decide on a name. She didn't like the name her parents gave her, so she decided to legally rename herself "Reba." But Reba wasn't unique enough for her because her favorite country superstar's name was Reba, so she eventually changed her name to George (yeah, because that's an original name). The girl named George even appeared in some Hollywood flick. Or would it be both girls? Although they claim they are their own people and I don't doubt that, I think both of them would have appeared in the same movie if they were conjoined at the head. But George insisted that she was the only famous one.

The Jaycee documentary was good, but it pissed me off. I honestly couldn't concentrate on the story line because the narrator kept pronouncing Jaycee's name wrong - kind of like how people pronounce my own Jacy's name wrong. Hey friends, it's not "J. C." or "JAY see," it's Jacy. One word. Like Lacy. Do you say "LAY see?" No you don't. It's a flowy name. Say it like that. Maybe my ears are just weird nowadays. Or maybe it's my concentration. Either way, I find it really hard to watch sitcoms anymore because of the laugh tracks. So, the slight mispronounciation of Jaycee made me zone out for the rest of the show.

But I was all ears for the killing kids one. It was honestly a great documentary to play in light of all the bullying tragedies happening right now. This is me really not being sarcastic at all - PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, don't be mean to people. It's awful. Bullying causes people to do really tragic things, so be nice. But the vampire kid in the show was an exception. I have no idea why he wanted to be a vampire. But, none-the-less, he convinced a bunch of kids to also be vampires. And this was back before being a vampire was cool. If someone wanted to start a vampire cult today, I wouldn't question it at all. But this was 10 years ago. Anyway, the '90s version of Edward Cullen convinced his cult-mates to cut each others arms and suck each other's blood. So technically they didn't kill anyone - well, until he beat his girlfriend's parent's brains in. He got sentenced to life in prison, but somehow still managed to find love. I guess some criminal justice major was studying his case and ended up interviewing him and falling in love with him. They got married and are very happy together. Well, sort of together. I bet they haven't consumated anything and probably never will considering he's serving life without parole. That's some freaky shit.

On that note, I'm now off to watch my favorite serial killer, Dexter...

Don't judge me.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Random Things Pt2

I honestly have nothing to say right now, but I figured it's been a while since I've touched base so here I am.

First off, I'm watching Grey's Anatomy right now and holy cow, there's a guy on this episode who looks like a freaking Africa tree. And while Dr. Bailey was chopping off his tree-like warts, a HUGE spider flew out at her! I feel all itchy right now. My ears keep tingling like they do when I find a tick on my body. Ga-ross. It's weird how something on TV makes me feel so disgusting. Ooo.... now McDreamy is opening his shirt. Hmm.....currently TV is making me feel disgusting in a whole different way.

What's new with me you might ask? Well, let us discuss.

Football is in full swing right now and I'm running around like a mad person. I worked last week's OU vs. Texas game (or Texas vs. OU game, depending on who you ask). Since OU won, I will refer to it as the OU vs. Texas game. What an experience! I was so happy to finally be back working football games. I love working games. And I get to work another one on Saturday (Texas A&M vs. Arkansas). I've heard about the A&M yell leaders, so I'm super excited to get a chance to see them. I'm not sure how I feel about a bunch of guy cheerleaders, so I'm interested to see how this goes down. I'm not at all sexist, but if you know me at all, you'd know that I'm a huge cheerleading fan. "Bring It On" is one of my guilty pleasures. And now that I've found Hellcats, I can continue to feed that pleasure. I think it's because people always want what they can't have and I really, really wish I could have been a cheerleader. I would give my right tit to be able to do so much as a summersault, so cheerleading is completely intriguing. Not to mention, I'd love to me super thin and super tan and be able to wear a skimpy cheerleading outfit. Oh and I'd love to be able to use "like" more than I do now and sound okay doing it. Like, don't ya think?

Sorry, I got off on a cheerleading tangent. I didn't mean to. I'm just so passionate. I will seriously stay up late at night and watch cheerleading competitions on ESPNU. I just think cheerleading is so underrated. The other day, Mike and Mike in the Morning were discussing whether or not cheerleading is a sport and they decided that it wasn't. I nearly called in to give them a piece of my mind. Can Mike or Mike do a double-axel-triple-barrel-half-turn-flippity-doo while still managing to smile and cheer? And there I go again....bahhh.

What else is new?

I hooked up my Skype cam for the first time last weekend and got to meet my handsome nephew. That kid has feet almost as big as mine! (Okay, not really, that was me exaggerating.) But you know how you can judge how big a dog is going to get by how big his paws are? I'm just saying, I'm going to start investing in this kid right now. I call dibs on being his agent. I'm really predicting a future NFL career-turned pro-baseball career out of this kid. I got to see AJ, too! And believe me, that kid won't need sports to be popular. He can just look at you with his big gorgeous eyes and long eyelashes and make you melt. He's going to be a Zack Morris. I'm totally calling it right now.

Speaking of Zack Morris, I've discovered something. I am not a morning person at all. Come to think of it, I'm really not quite sure who is... (Maybe my parents? They're always up at the ass-crack of dawn.) But there is one thing that makes me WANT to get up in the mornings. One thing that makes me set my alarm for 6 a.m. every day. What's that you say? A big ol' cup of Folgers? NOPE. It's SAVED BY THE BELL on TBS! I'm really addicted. I started watching about 6 weeks ago and just recently, Zack and Kelly got married in Vegas. Now TBS is starting over from episode 1 again (with Miss Bliss and all!) Granted, Saved By The Bell didn't start getting good until Slater entered the picture, but I don't mind that Nikki chick and that other Slater wannabe. Yesterday TBS threw me for a loop though because they played "Yes, Dear" instead of Saved By The Bell. I got really pissed off and had a really bad day. What the heck is Yes Dear anyway? Was that even ON TV? But they got their senses back and played SBTB again this morning.

Thinking of mornings - one morning, I discovered that my left rear blinker wasn't working. I drove around on it for a while, but realized that it is really, REALLY tough to drive around Dallas with no left blinker. Don't let Southern charm fool you. Texas drivers are real assholes. Don't count on ANYONE letting you into your desired lane on a busy morning. And forgetaboutit without a blinker. At one point, I was sticking my hand out the window POINTING to the lane I wanted to get into. When that didn't work, I just started veering and praying to God that someone would stop. They always did.

Anywho, I'm poor as a pauper, so I couldn't really afford to take my car to a shop and spend 50 bucks to get a blinker fixed. So, I decided that I was Jessica-mutha-truckin'-goldschwager and I was going to DO IT MYSELF. After much googling and looking in my car's owner's manual, I was confident in my skills. I went to Walmart and bought the right bulb, then I found a few tools to help me out. After nearly tearing my trunk apart, I finally decided to call my parental units and ask for their help. I figured, hell, my dad took apart tractors and shit, surely he'd help me. After the first two seconds of my phone call to my 'rents, I found out they had zero faith in my abilities. I heard my dad shouting in the background, "Tell her to take it to some place like Green's (being the local one-stop full-service shop in my hometown)." Mom: "Genneee, there isn't a place like Green's in Dallas. It's a bit bigger than places in Nebraska!" Dad: "Well tell her I couldn't even change a blinker if I wanted to, so she needs to take it somewhere."

Well, they were no help. So I hung up, thoroughly pissed, and read the manual one more time. Then, after popping off my entire tail light, I figured out how to change the bulb. I called my parents five minutes later to gloat, gloat, gloat. So, basically, I'm a better mechanic than my dad. Just sayin.' (just kidding Pops. I've seen your skillzzzz.)

Okay, this girl is hitting the hay. I have a busy weekend planned after hitting up some FUN tomorrow night. And I have Saved By The Bell to look forward to in 6 hours!