Saturday, September 24, 2011

Do Yourself a Favor and Never Ask me for Directions. Just Get a GPS. It's Worth the Money.

It took me until I was sixteen to learn North, South, East and West on a map without looking. This is a clear indicator that I am not meant to find things on my own. I mean, I always knew North and South. But for some reason I was always incapable of distinguishing East from West.
Eventually I learned the NEWS thing. It goes kind of in the shape of a lightning bolt. And that helped me to remember it. My point is that navigation, along with math, is something I am very bad at.
One day, my friend and I went to the beach. Neither of us could drive yet, so her mom dropped us off and we hung out for a while just walking around. Eventually, I got really hungry and she began to realize that she really needed to find a bathroom. We had reached the end of that beach (there was a big ledge and we couldn’t go any farther in that direction without a tragic fall) so we decided to turn around and see if there was a food stand/bathroom that way.
This actually wasn’t my idea. She was fairly confident that there was something in the other direction. And there was. Except that something turned out to be a piping plover preserve.
For those of you that are unfamiliar with the piping plover, it is an endangered bird that lays its eggs on the beach. Once they have made their nests, it is illegal to disturb them. In middle school we had been forced to learn about these birds. I don’t remember much of it. But I knew (mainly based on the signs and fence) that we could go no further in that direction. This was the opposite of a food stand.
At this point, my poor friend had to pee very badly. And my stomach was starting to get really pissed off.
So we walked away from the beach into some random, unknown neighborhood. I have lived in this town for most of my life, but I had never been to that beach before and I was highly unfamiliar with the area.
In fact, I’m unfamiliar with almost every area. It’s best not to ever call me for directions. Unless you really want an adventure, don’t do it. You’ll end up hopelessly lost.
Anyway, since my friend had been the one to get us to a piping plover preserve with no food and no bathroom, I decided I would call the shots. This was bad. Neither of us is well equipped for finding things, so it would have been bad no matter what. But I know my navigational capabilities. And they don’t exist.
We ended up following emergency evacuation signs. If I remember correctly, this was after several failed attempts of me picking random roads and trying to find something familiar. Eventually, we heard a beautiful sound.
An ice cream truck.
I thought that at the very least we could get food and then continue our search for a bathroom. However, we could only hear it. And we were in a neighborhood with a lot of fences, so it was almost impossible to figure out where this beautiful truck was.
We never did find it. It was heartbreaking. Plus, our failed attempts at finding the ice cream truck had gotten us even more lost.
Then we saw a faded sign on a tree. It had a town name faintly written on it.
It was not the town we started in.
We realized that if that sign was right, we would have walked the length of a town. Since neither of us was even familiar with our own town, this was very alarming for us and we had no idea where we were. We thought maybe the sign might be really old and inaccurate.
Our denial ended when we finally asked for directions. We probably should have done this sooner. But once my friend’s bladder started becoming a huge problem, we were forced to ask for help.
Unfortunately, all the help we got was confirmation of what town we were in.
Luckily, we found a road that was somewhat recognizable. I took this opportunity to call my mom and ask her to come get us.
We hadn’t called for help sooner because we had no idea where we were, and therefore had no idea where to get picked up from.
So I called my mom and was like “Hey, we’re on Old Post Road, can you come get us?”
And my mom was like “Uh…Which one? There are about twenty Old Post Roads around here…”
I told her I only knew what town we were in. Other than that I had no idea.
My mom said she’d head out and start looking for us. Even though there were a ton of Old Post Roads in that town. She told us not to go anywhere.
So we sat on the curb and waited.
It didn’t take long for my mom to get there. But after we got in the car, we went around a corner.
There was a pizza shop there.
If we had just gone around the corner we would have had food and a bathroom. That was pretty much all we had been looking for anyway.
Instead, my mom sped my friend back to her house so she could FINALLY pee. And she made me some food. The whole journey took about two hours and we had walked several miles.

 I mentioned earlier that you should never ask me for directions. Here’s why:
I don’t know street names. Ever. I also can’t give you the amount of traffic lights or stop signs. My directions pretty much sound like “Okay. You’ll go through some lights. Then there will be a stop sign and a house. Right after that house there will be a road. You want the next road after the tree with the white flowers. But it only has white flowers in the spring. The road is on your left. Then you drive a lot. Be careful not to hit any animals. Okay. Then you’ll see a fish mailbox. Shortly after that mailbox, the house you want is on the right. They have a black mailbox. You can’t miss it.”
I’m sad to say that I give directions almost exactly like this. I once told my friend the “address” of another friend of mine so he could go to her party. Except I told him the wrong town AND the wrong house number.
He called me from the town I had told him to go to and he was like “Hey, I just put the address into my GPS and it’s telling me that this road doesn’t exist in this town…”
I then told him he should have put in the address before he left his house.
I don’t know why people ever trust me with things like directions. It’s really not smart.
My friend eventually got to the party after I gave him the right address. I had to ask for it, though. I didn’t even know where I was.
I had also offered him a ride there. I thought it was wise for him to decline since he knows how bad I am at finding places. But when he asked me for the address he should have known better.
I really think it's something to do with the letter x. I can't find it in math and I can't find it on a map. Sorry, pirate fans.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

That Time I Was a Guy

          In chorus every year we have a benefit concert. We did that concert, and every benefit concert before it, with The Westerly High School Chorus. I was excited because it was my first one. And I was spending the night at Mary’s after. At the time, she was my best friend, so hanging out with her was awesome. But my folder partner was Emily, so I stood by her during the concert. After we had been singing for a while, my voice started to feel really funny. I just sang quieter and coughed when I thought it would be the least noticeable. Eventually I couldn’t sing anymore at all.
          Normally this would be great because I suck at singing, but it was kind of freaking me out. I mean, my voice was disappearing and dropping randomly. So once the concert was over, I exited the stage and tried talking to my friends. What came out was not my voice. It was the voice of a large black man. And I’m a skinny white girl. This was fairly alarming. But my voice had dropped an octave, so I could hit bass notes. My first order of business as a fat black man was to sing Baby Got Back.
          Suddenly, my deep man voice went through puberty and was squeaky for a while. And then for three days it was super deep again.
          For those three days I was the best source of humor ever. I talked and sang at least three times more than normal and occationally fondled my massive balls. It got to the point that I wasn’t sure I’d ever sound like a white girl again. But I do. And I have made the important discovery that there is a fat (and awesome) black guy named Andre living inside of me. But I’ve grown to love him. All ladies love him. Once you go black, you never go back. It’s true. Andre’s soul is proof.
          Anyway, Andre left somewhat of a legacy. He was friends with people that I wasn't even friends with. He got a facebook (which facebook took down. Fuck you, facebook. Andre IS real) and he also got a formspring. It got out of hand really quickly. Now I kind of like dressing like a man. I've done it twice. Someday I'll dress up as Andre and post a picture here. Take caution, though. It might be too sexy for you. I'm almost certain you'll jizz.
But for now, here's one of my other alter-egos. His name is Aiden.
I am aware that Aiden looks like a stoner. He is. I'm not, though. My alter-egos tend to be everything I'm not. But we're all awesome.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Freshman Orientation

At freshman orientation I decided I was done being shy. I was going to talk to people. Lonely people, pretty people, people that looked like they would be funny, whatever. I was going to do it. The fear that I would be ignored was gone. I was going to be social and people would fucking love me.
Then I met Edgar. Kind of.

I first encountered Edgar when my friend Chris (actually, more of an acquaintance) abandoned me to hang out with some fellow art majors. I don’t understand art, so I actually just eased out of the conversation and walked away. But I felt slightly abandoned. I really don’t think they even noticed. This didn’t bother me at first. I mean, I was no longer shy. I’d just find someone else to talk to. I looked around and saw a kid sitting all alone at a table. His nametag said Edgar. He looked Asian. But a pretty Asian. I find that really rare. I mean, a lot of Asians are hot. I just normally can’t find myself liking their face. Edgar had a nice face. So I walked over, sat down and said hi. I was bubbly, happy and I looked pretty that day. I cannot explain why the following occurred. But he said nothing. Not only did he not respond, but he didn't show any signs of acknowledging that I spoke. I thought maybe I wasn’t loud enough. So I waited a little while and listened to my iPod. Then I completely missed something important that was said by one of the orientation people. So I asked Edgar what they said. And I was not quiet. I said “HEY! DID YOU HEAR WHAT THEY SAID? I MISSED IT!” I was probably only slightly quieter that that voice in your head as you read that. And still, he showed no sign that he heard me. So I thought maybe he was deaf and I followed a crowd of people and met up with Chris again. For the remainder of the day I continued trying to be social with varying levels of success. During the quiet moments I pondered if it was possible to have sex in a tree. I hope to deliver an update on that sometime. Anyway, the next day we picked our classes and were sorted into our rooms by our majors. Chris and I were in the same room because Arts and Languages were together. Guess who else was an art major? Edgar. Fucking Edgar. I almost sat with him. I was almost like “This kid WILL fucking talk to me. He might not fuck me, but he’s going to at least TALK to me!” but I still thought he might be deaf at that moment, so I sat near Chris instead. The teacher and a couple upperclassmen that know things walked around helping us choose classes and answered any questions we had. Pretty much everyone had questions. Except for Edgar. Of course. So eventually the teacher dude asked Edgar how he was doing. I expected to hear silence followed by the teacher rushing to find a sign language book. But instead Edgar responded. He wasn’t even fucking deaf! He just didn’t want to talk to me! And he was texting during my attempts. So not only did this jerk ignore me, make me think he was deaf AND miss some housing meeting (the important piece of info I missed while listening to my iPod) but he was also probably talking to his friends about some weird girl that was happily screaming at him.
So, I've been living on campus for a couple weeks now. And I suck at meeting people. Everyone probably thinks I’m an anti-social freak and you know what? I totally blame Edgar.
Fuck Edgar. Except I couldn’t. Because he was a jerk.
Oh, and, did I mention the first thing my orientation roommate saw when she woke up was my half naked, wet body? That happened too.