I always leave my phone ringer on at night, in case of an emergency. This one particular night, it was an emergency.
2:14 am on a Thursday my phone starts loudly informing me that someone from an anonymous number needs something. With my eyes still shut I grab the thing, flip it open and groggily utter “hello?!…”
“You have received a Collect Call from the Ada County Jail from…Michelle XXXX… Press 1 to accept the charges. Press 2 to decline”
My eyes pop right open. Obviously I press 1, this is my good friend on the other line.
….long pause. (some beeping). Long pause…
“Karlee?! Its Shelly…” All I can hear is crying. No, crying is an understatement. All I can hear is bawling.
“Shelly, what is going on?!”
“I got pulled over and arrested for Drinking and Driving.” (more sobs.) “I got a DUI! You know I can’t call my parents…”
This is true, I know she can’t. “WHAT?! When? Just now?!” (duh Karlee, duh)
“Yes, just now! They are giving me the option to have someone come bail me out so I don’t have to stay the night. Karlee, please?! can you PLEASE come bail me out? I have the money, I will pay you back I SWEAR… just don’t make me stay here.”
“Alright Shelly, I am coming. Tell me how much and where to go.” -As my friend is giving me the details, I am *quickly* getting dressed, finding shoes, keys, and running to my car. I jump in while on the phone with her and continue to get details of what I need to do in this process. This is, of course, my first time bailing a friend out of jail in the middle of the night. About 5 minutes into the drive, just as I am about to tell her I will see her in a minute and it will all be ok, I hear a little TINY giggle.
A giggle?!
“F* off Shelly!” I hang up the phone. Turn around. Head home. Immediately upon hanging up my phone is ringing again. I don’t need to answer though, I know what the voicemail is going to say:
2:14am: 4/1: = Best April Fools Prank EVER.
touche my friend, touche. Nothing has even come close to topping that. I was in it hook, line, and sinker. I pressed 1 on my cell phone and everything. touche.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Dare You To...
We’ve all been in that situation where someone has a terrible idea and suggests you do it. You then take one of the following options:
1) Ask them what they will give you and in turn weigh the cost & effect
2) Determine why they themselves are not doing whatever was suggested and decide if you want to be THAT guy.
3) Realize its probably not best and turn the tables with a “No” or a “Why don’t YOU?!”
4) Completely ignore the source, all sense of right vs wrong, health, complications, etc… and jump in feet first.
For whatever reason I tend to choose option 4. Not always the best decision as demonstrated in the following scenerios:
*Once I snorted a big, finly ground line of… salt. I did it for the biggest size Cold Stone treat. Before the line- genuis idea. Its salt! I love salt and eat it every day. After the line- TOTALLY NOT WORTH IT. I couldn’t stop crying, the burning sensation was far more than expected, and everything tasted like blood for days… incuding said Cold Stone. #BS
*I once was convinced that it was a good idea to climb up a ladder into the rafters of an unfinished building to turn up a fog machine at a party that was not my own. At the risk of being kicked out or plumeting to a broken bone fate, I accepted the task knowing that should I succeed, I was getting a red bull and a piggy back to the next bar. (innebriation may or may not have been a factor)
* I drank a cup and a half of straight soy sauce for $5.00. I vomited far more than what $5.00 could make me feel good about vomiting. ’nuff said.
* I have been convinced that riding down a steep, wooden flight of stairs in a plastic laundry basket was a great idea. I actually went so fast that upon crashing into the wall across the hall at the bottom of the stairs, I shattered the laundry basket, not to mention my pride. In turn, I also have been convinced that going down a steep carpeted flight of stairs in a giant box was a good idea too. same result.
* I stood up on my table in a quite busy Thai Noodle Hut restaurant and asked for the entire bar / restaurant’s attention so I could tell them all a joke. Little did the restaurant know that I was getting my entire dinner & drink tab picked up by the waitor if I had the balls to do it. Little did the waitor know I had the balls. (side note: the waitor freaked and asked me to get down before I told the joke, afraid he’d get in trouble. I compromised and sat back down, beers and dessert covered.)
* I marched up to a decently well known musician (one I like quite a bit) and, quite frankly demanded him to play more music. After failed attempt #1, I listened to my friend and it seemed logic- go back and tell him “I’m Karlee F*cking May, and you should pl…” not so much. Come to think of it, I don’t think I was even getting anything for doing that- just that we wanted him to play for us.
* Countless times for countless different pirzes I have tried to eat/swollow a tablespoon of straight cinnimon with out coughing or spitting any out. Want to make a bet you are sure to win? Bet someone they can’t do that- because its impossible.
* I went up a chair lift having never been on a snowboard before to attempt to snowboard down. First times a charm they tell me. Bet me $40.00 I couldn’t do it… bingo. I couldn’t. Not far from the top I fell and fractured my wrist. P.S. snow patrol at Bogus sucks the big one.
…I think I have made my point clear.
The next time you are making a bet- weigh your options. Sometimes the money or the free drink end up NOT being worth it. but then again, sometimes it totally is.
1) Ask them what they will give you and in turn weigh the cost & effect
2) Determine why they themselves are not doing whatever was suggested and decide if you want to be THAT guy.
3) Realize its probably not best and turn the tables with a “No” or a “Why don’t YOU?!”
4) Completely ignore the source, all sense of right vs wrong, health, complications, etc… and jump in feet first.
For whatever reason I tend to choose option 4. Not always the best decision as demonstrated in the following scenerios:
*Once I snorted a big, finly ground line of… salt. I did it for the biggest size Cold Stone treat. Before the line- genuis idea. Its salt! I love salt and eat it every day. After the line- TOTALLY NOT WORTH IT. I couldn’t stop crying, the burning sensation was far more than expected, and everything tasted like blood for days… incuding said Cold Stone. #BS
*I once was convinced that it was a good idea to climb up a ladder into the rafters of an unfinished building to turn up a fog machine at a party that was not my own. At the risk of being kicked out or plumeting to a broken bone fate, I accepted the task knowing that should I succeed, I was getting a red bull and a piggy back to the next bar. (innebriation may or may not have been a factor)
* I drank a cup and a half of straight soy sauce for $5.00. I vomited far more than what $5.00 could make me feel good about vomiting. ’nuff said.
* I have been convinced that riding down a steep, wooden flight of stairs in a plastic laundry basket was a great idea. I actually went so fast that upon crashing into the wall across the hall at the bottom of the stairs, I shattered the laundry basket, not to mention my pride. In turn, I also have been convinced that going down a steep carpeted flight of stairs in a giant box was a good idea too. same result.
* I stood up on my table in a quite busy Thai Noodle Hut restaurant and asked for the entire bar / restaurant’s attention so I could tell them all a joke. Little did the restaurant know that I was getting my entire dinner & drink tab picked up by the waitor if I had the balls to do it. Little did the waitor know I had the balls. (side note: the waitor freaked and asked me to get down before I told the joke, afraid he’d get in trouble. I compromised and sat back down, beers and dessert covered.)
* I marched up to a decently well known musician (one I like quite a bit) and, quite frankly demanded him to play more music. After failed attempt #1, I listened to my friend and it seemed logic- go back and tell him “I’m Karlee F*cking May, and you should pl…” not so much. Come to think of it, I don’t think I was even getting anything for doing that- just that we wanted him to play for us.
* Countless times for countless different pirzes I have tried to eat/swollow a tablespoon of straight cinnimon with out coughing or spitting any out. Want to make a bet you are sure to win? Bet someone they can’t do that- because its impossible.
* I went up a chair lift having never been on a snowboard before to attempt to snowboard down. First times a charm they tell me. Bet me $40.00 I couldn’t do it… bingo. I couldn’t. Not far from the top I fell and fractured my wrist. P.S. snow patrol at Bogus sucks the big one.
…I think I have made my point clear.
The next time you are making a bet- weigh your options. Sometimes the money or the free drink end up NOT being worth it. but then again, sometimes it totally is.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
My Watch
A very wise woman taught me this. And this is how I roll. %94 of the time, anyway.
I am an on-timer. I like to be there before the show. I like my seat in the theater before the lights dim and the previews start. I like to be waiting on you, not have you waiting on me. ... I immediately take that back. I dont LIKE to be waiting on you, but I would prefer to be waiting on you if waiting is to be had.
Needless to say, I dont like being late: not the 'on-time' late, and not the 'late is unacceptable' late. In fact, it really chaps my ass.
(side note: I forgot how much I love that saying until Ashley said it the other day.)
I feel bad if I am late. A) It messes with my day. B) because its not nice to you C)because when I run real late I tend to stress & panic = I sweat.
Here is my thought though, and I will stand by this until the day I can't stand (in which case I will sit by this):
There is never a reason why you should not call and inform the other parties involved if you are running late. NEVER, unless you there is death, dead, or dying involved.
You can always call your date and say you are running behind. You can always call your iterviewer and let them know you are on your way. You can text your friends and keep them up to speed with your progress. (side note again: you should NOT text your boss to tell them you are late- you should always call your boss. Found that out the hard way.)
*sorry for the tangent: my point was supposed to be that today I have already been late twice, and its not even 3:00.
I was late this morning (by just a smidge)- I would even go as far as to say that I fell in the "on time is late" category. STRIKE1 .
Then when coming back from lunch, I was legitimately late. STRIKE2
Then when coming back from lunch, I was legitimately late. STRIKE2
Me being late really throws my day out of whack. Don't get me wrong- I am happy to fly by the seat of my pants when flying by the seat of your pants is appropriate. If everyone on board your little ship is not pant-seat flying, you should stick to being on time too. Its the decent thing to do.
that, or dont expect anyone to wait for you.
Like my friend for example, who always wants to hang out and will "be there in 10." 10 minutes can (not so) quickly turn into an hour or more, and it doesn't occure to said friend why I left you behind.
What did this blog even turn into? I was late and apparently just wanted to share my life motto with you.
There are often good reasons for being late- I allow exceptions. Exceptions for why you are late and exceptions for myself and why I am late. This is allowed, but should not be the norm. Do your best to plan your life around your life...
Be early. or be on time. Thats all I got. I'm obviously stuck on that point right now.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Big Pink Pills
I get migraines. I am sure this is not new news for some of you, but I get huge, gnarly, beast-of-them-all migraines. So bad that I get dizzy, throw up, can’t see.. and all that jazz. Needless to say, I have a hefty dose prescription of a little narcotic that I take when I get them to knock myself out and hopefully wake up feeling decent. I always refer to said medication as the “Big Pink Pills”. This name is based from the obvious- they are big pink pills.
When I take the pink pills, generally it knocks me out cold for 8+ hours. I mean cold like you might have to carry me if there is a fire because I cant wake up. This is as much a blessing as it’s not. Here’s why:
Last summer I had the mama of all migraines. It was probably 2pm a lovely, sunny Saturday afternoon. My ever so wonderful roommate-at-the-time, Kyle, is a good caretaker. Seeing my pain he set me up on the couch, cup of tea, Big pink pills, and a movie. I popped the suckers in, and about 10 minutes later looking from Kyle to the TV was like a watercolor painting. Blurry, liquidy, messy slow motion life.
…Next thing I know I hear a loud SLAM! I open my eyes and I can not see a thing. Its pitch black and so immediately I try to sit up and move my arms and I am stuck.. Tied down. Arms tied, legs tied, and pinned down. Immediately I start to freak out. Then a giant shadow leans over me, and instantly I knew what happened. I had been kidnapped, and this man was going to kill me. I start screaming and crying and fight to free my hands so I can start punching and slapping. And let me tell you… I am. I am doing everything in my panic-filled power to beat the Shit out of my captivator. Holding me down by my shoulders, I finally tune into the words coming out of the scary man’s mouth:
“Karlee! Karlee calm down! Karlee, its me! Its KYLE!!!”
…What the Hell?! I just break down into tears. I was not kidnapped. I was not tied down. I was on my flippin’ couch.
My dear friend had seen me fall asleep and tucked me in- blanket tucked so tight into me and into the couch that I felt like I was restrained. I had punched and slapped and screamed at Kyle, doing what he does best- be a nice care-takerie friend. And 8 or 9 hours later, it had turned to pitch black night-hence why I could not see. Oh man.
Thank heavens Kyle understood. More so he just laughed it off, as did I once my wits were about me. And now, I try to go straight to my bedroom if I have to take the big pink pills. Boy, when they tell you that they work, they are not pulling you leg.
When I take the pink pills, generally it knocks me out cold for 8+ hours. I mean cold like you might have to carry me if there is a fire because I cant wake up. This is as much a blessing as it’s not. Here’s why:
Last summer I had the mama of all migraines. It was probably 2pm a lovely, sunny Saturday afternoon. My ever so wonderful roommate-at-the-time, Kyle, is a good caretaker. Seeing my pain he set me up on the couch, cup of tea, Big pink pills, and a movie. I popped the suckers in, and about 10 minutes later looking from Kyle to the TV was like a watercolor painting. Blurry, liquidy, messy slow motion life.
…Next thing I know I hear a loud SLAM! I open my eyes and I can not see a thing. Its pitch black and so immediately I try to sit up and move my arms and I am stuck.. Tied down. Arms tied, legs tied, and pinned down. Immediately I start to freak out. Then a giant shadow leans over me, and instantly I knew what happened. I had been kidnapped, and this man was going to kill me. I start screaming and crying and fight to free my hands so I can start punching and slapping. And let me tell you… I am. I am doing everything in my panic-filled power to beat the Shit out of my captivator. Holding me down by my shoulders, I finally tune into the words coming out of the scary man’s mouth:
“Karlee! Karlee calm down! Karlee, its me! Its KYLE!!!”
…What the Hell?! I just break down into tears. I was not kidnapped. I was not tied down. I was on my flippin’ couch.
My dear friend had seen me fall asleep and tucked me in- blanket tucked so tight into me and into the couch that I felt like I was restrained. I had punched and slapped and screamed at Kyle, doing what he does best- be a nice care-takerie friend. And 8 or 9 hours later, it had turned to pitch black night-hence why I could not see. Oh man.
Thank heavens Kyle understood. More so he just laughed it off, as did I once my wits were about me. And now, I try to go straight to my bedroom if I have to take the big pink pills. Boy, when they tell you that they work, they are not pulling you leg.
Karlee and Kyle
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
