Well...Washington seems to be a lot safer place than Georgia. Which is great, except that might be detrimental to this blog. But then again...I am Erin. And Jamie pointed out a few post back that I don't mix well with staples. So I thought I would take you on a little trip back to my childhood. Where I was rather dangerous to myself.
Actually, let's start by going back only a few years. I was in college and I brought Jamie home for Thanksgiving break because she lived too far away to go to her own home. Or her parents didn't love her, your pick. So let's set the scene: Jamie, Mom, I, and a few other unimportant people for this story were in the kitchen. And Mom was being a mom and telling Jamie and everyone about what a perfect and angelic child I was. (Hey, my story, my rendition of how it went down.)
Anyway, Mom made a comment about how we would try to talk while being in a different room. This was a HUGE pet peeve of Mom's. If you wanted to talk to her you had better be in the same room as her. None of this "MOM! Come here!" shit. No, not at all.
Which lead me to a story of my own. I was around 5 years old...let's say 4 1/2 so I don't seem so stupid. I was upstairs playing with the stapler. I don't know why. I could say it was because I never had any toys. But let's face it, Mom bought me more Barbies and Barbie crap than I could ever want. So like...one...
Anyway, I was playing with the stapler upstairs in the hallway when all of a sudden...clunk...o. There I was...there was the wooden railing...there was my little finger...and there was a staple through my little finger and railing. Huh...who could have seen that coming? It hurt, I won't lie. I was a little more baffled than injured. I was surprised that a staple would actually go through my finger. But apparently it would.
I tugged at it a little and realized that I was stuck. I mean really stuck. I thought about gnawing off my finger to get free. But let's face it, I was 4 and at that age everyone is a picky eater. So I took a deep breath and yelled "MOOOMMMM!" To which I got the standard reply, "If you want to talk to me, come in here!" from the kitchen. Great, the one thing I couldn't do. I yelled some more things like "I can't" and "Come help me." But I knew I was on my own. No mom to come save me.
So I studied my situation and I slowly and painfully pulled the staple out of the railing and then out of my finger. It hurt, a lot. I imagine that that must have been what it felt like to pull a bullet out of your shoulder. (Yes, I watched Miami Vic with my Dad.) So there I was free. I thought about running down to my Mom and telling how much I was in danger and she didn't come. And then it dawned on me. I stapled myself to the railing. I mean even at 3 1/3 I knew how stupid that was. So if I went to put the guilt trip on Mom I would also have to admit to the dumb thing I did. Who staples herself to the railing? I mean really? So I put the stapler down, cleaned the blood off the railing, hid all other evidence, and picked up a stupid doll. Hmmm...could I staple Barbie to the railing and blame my older brothers? That might be fun...but I better not play with the stapler anymore.
So once I finished telling the story, my wonderful Mother, who stood in the kitchen listening and making Thanksgiving dinner said, "I don't remember you stapling your finger to the railing." To which I quickly replied, "Well no! You wouldn't come help me no matter how loud I screamed!" And she replied back, "Well you know how I feel about you kids yelling at me from the other rooms." Jamie was overly amused.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Car Crash, Take 2
First of all I would like to apologize for my previous post. I was hoped up on NyQuil and barely remember even sitting down to write it. But its part of the blog now so...
Ok, now that that's over, I said I would tell you about my car crash. It had been a while since it happened, but I was just so baffled by my "luck" that I didn't run to blog about it. You see I had been in Seattle for about 2 -3 weeks and I already had been to the Toyota Dealership too many time.
First, I went there to get my oil changed. As you can imagine driving across the country takes it out on a car. Then I got in the mail a recall. O yes, I drove across the country only to get a forward recall on my car in the mail. How awesome is that? Then I had to get new plates for my car and I didn't have any holes in the front of my car to put the plates on. Well, I figured what was one more trip to the dealership. I mean I was starting to think I should get a little pop-up tent and move in there.
Anyway, I was driving to the dealership, a route I knew well, when I came to this intersection. It was a busy intersection and I could see the cars in front of me slowing down on the other side of the intersection. I figured I better slow down and stop before I got into the middle of the intersection or I would be stuck in the middle with a red light. So I stopped...but the car behind me didn't.
WACK
OMG!
It happened again! What!? Do I have a big ass bumper stick on my car that has a target and says "Hit me I love dealing with my insurance agent!" So I just sat there at the light. Imagining all the bends and breaks that could be in my poor little car's bumper. And I was thinking of how I was going to have to deal with another person's crazy idea on how this accident was somehow my fault.
Then the guy that hit me got out of his car and walked up to my window. I hesitated and rolled down the window. The guy said "I'm SO SO SORRY!" Well that was unexpected...my poor car, do I even want to see how bad it was? They guy told me to pull into the next driveway so we could sort things out.
I was really worried. I mean it was bad enough to get in an accident, but I just got this car AND I was in a new city. I had no idea how to get around, I didn't know where I could get a new car, I didn't even have a clue of who I could call if I needed to be picked up.
When I pulled in I finally got the courage to look at my bumper. I got out of my car and the guy was in my face telling me how sorry he was, how he spilled something on himself. He looked down and when he looked up it was too late. Thanks a LOT Starbucks. I must admit I was about to laugh at him. He just kept apologizing. It didn't make sense. Didn't he know he wasn't supposed to admit guilt even if it was completely obvious.
But anyway, I got to the back of my car and there was no damage. I was surprised how hard he hit me that there was no damage. He gave me his card and told me that the address was old and the email didn't work. All very comforting. But I went on my way and had the dealership check it out. No damage they said. Which was great. But then they did a number on my front bumper putting my plates on. My poor car.
Ok, now that that's over, I said I would tell you about my car crash. It had been a while since it happened, but I was just so baffled by my "luck" that I didn't run to blog about it. You see I had been in Seattle for about 2 -3 weeks and I already had been to the Toyota Dealership too many time.
First, I went there to get my oil changed. As you can imagine driving across the country takes it out on a car. Then I got in the mail a recall. O yes, I drove across the country only to get a forward recall on my car in the mail. How awesome is that? Then I had to get new plates for my car and I didn't have any holes in the front of my car to put the plates on. Well, I figured what was one more trip to the dealership. I mean I was starting to think I should get a little pop-up tent and move in there.
Anyway, I was driving to the dealership, a route I knew well, when I came to this intersection. It was a busy intersection and I could see the cars in front of me slowing down on the other side of the intersection. I figured I better slow down and stop before I got into the middle of the intersection or I would be stuck in the middle with a red light. So I stopped...but the car behind me didn't.
WACK
OMG!
It happened again! What!? Do I have a big ass bumper stick on my car that has a target and says "Hit me I love dealing with my insurance agent!" So I just sat there at the light. Imagining all the bends and breaks that could be in my poor little car's bumper. And I was thinking of how I was going to have to deal with another person's crazy idea on how this accident was somehow my fault.
Then the guy that hit me got out of his car and walked up to my window. I hesitated and rolled down the window. The guy said "I'm SO SO SORRY!" Well that was unexpected...my poor car, do I even want to see how bad it was? They guy told me to pull into the next driveway so we could sort things out.
I was really worried. I mean it was bad enough to get in an accident, but I just got this car AND I was in a new city. I had no idea how to get around, I didn't know where I could get a new car, I didn't even have a clue of who I could call if I needed to be picked up.
When I pulled in I finally got the courage to look at my bumper. I got out of my car and the guy was in my face telling me how sorry he was, how he spilled something on himself. He looked down and when he looked up it was too late. Thanks a LOT Starbucks. I must admit I was about to laugh at him. He just kept apologizing. It didn't make sense. Didn't he know he wasn't supposed to admit guilt even if it was completely obvious.
But anyway, I got to the back of my car and there was no damage. I was surprised how hard he hit me that there was no damage. He gave me his card and told me that the address was old and the email didn't work. All very comforting. But I went on my way and had the dealership check it out. No damage they said. Which was great. But then they did a number on my front bumper putting my plates on. My poor car.
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