A lesson in driving

Thomas likes to say I have road rage. I like to say that I like to discuss with people the different ways that they can enhance their driving experience. Like using turn signals, and not cutting me off, and driving at least the speed limit. I talk to people. With my windows up. Sometimes rather loudly, but it's not rage. Most days.

So yesterday, I had to take Boo to the vet. I don't think I mentioned it, but Butthead went out and got himself run over a couple of weeks ago. This was not so much a followup to his "come to the light, no don't, cause it's headlights" experience as it was a followup to his being put on Prozac (for reasons yet to be explained here, but trust me, he needed it). He had to have some labwork done to make sure that the Prozac wasn't destroying his liver, so I got him in the car and took off to the vet. We switched vets recently to Broad Ripple Animal Clinic, mainly because they are amazing. The only problem is that they are about a half hour away in traffic, and Boo doesn't always like being in the car.

He was doing pretty well this time. He was actually doing better than me, because I drove the first fifteen minutes or so at speeds that meant I never was able to shift out of second gear. Good heavens. And let's just say that my fellow drivers were not listening to my suggestions on how to enhance their driving experience. ::sigh:: So I was about halfway there, taking a route where I knew there was construction, and I suddenly came to an abrupt stop. With seven minutes left to make a fifteen minute trip. I was not happy. We were sitting in gridlock, so I called the vet to see if they'd even see him if we were late. YAY! They would. Those people are amazing, I tell you.

I wasn't any happier sitting there, though, and the more I sat there, the more unhappy I got, because Boo was getting upset. Honestly, I'm not sure if he was upset more about the ride, or lack thereof, or if he was upset because I was upset, but he was definitely getting fidgety. Next thing you know, I heard that fateful noise. The one that says something's gonna erupt, and it ain't a volcano in Iceland. Damn! And his window was up -- the Yarus doesn't have power windows, so I couldn't shove his head out. I grabbed his head just in time to keep him from barfing all over his (cloth) seat.

He vomited straight into my purse.

Maybe it was God's vengeance on my driving lessons to those around me. Maybe Boo just didn't like the Black Eyed Peas song on the radio (ironically, "I Gotta Feeling"). Maybe he was just flat out carsick from all the shifting or lack thereof, but he did look pretty remorseful as I stared down at the mess that was now my handbag. I couldn't stop, because we were still in the construction, and we were late, so I just kept driving. This is where being a nurse comes in handy, cause we nurses aren't grossed out as easily as other people, but man, this was my purse! Grossed out, no, but pissy, yes.

So we get to the vet and I had to try to figure out how the heck I was gonna pay for this visit if everything is covered in vomit. So I'm trying to find my wallet, which is buried in the purse, so I'm trying to rifle through it without covering myself in bodily fluids, meantime hoping that he hasn't covered my wallet in it too. Then I realized that I didn't have my debit card, so I had to go searching for the right checkbook, because I had three in my purse, and then see if it was actually dry. As I'm doing this, some lady pulls up a couple of spaces down, and was fighting with her HUGE and very CRAZY dog, trying to get him outta the car. So now I was fighting not only the vomitacious purse, but also Boo, who is trying to jump out of the car because he's all anxious about the car ride, the vomit, and now Marmaduke next to us. ::sigh::

I had to stand outside with him for a while before I could take him in because Marmaduke was lunging wildly at the front desk, almost jerking this lady to the ground, and by the time we got to the scales, I was having a meltdown. Fortunately, the people at the vet clinic are WONDERFUL, and I was able to regroup. Boo, on the other hand, was happy as a clam the whole time, was pronounced healthy, and off we went home.

I dropped him off and went to Target and bought this purse (shown above), in orange. With a blue wallet, in honor of Dan's Broncos addiction. And the red leather purse full 'o vomit? It got trashed.

Again with the Sethanese

It's been a while since I've talked about Sethanese. Maybe that's because the older the kid gets, the more he holes up in his room, so we don't get to hear it as much. Maybe it's because his brother moved out and his sister left for college, so they don't egg him on. Or maybe it's because he's just gotten quieter.

In either event, tonight Dan decided to treat us to dinner at Outback -- for full price, no coupon, even. I thought I might die of the shock, and then I thought maybe I should take his temperature, because the man never pays full price for anything. I think that he was just being sweet though, because he knew I had a wild day at work, where I strongly considered the idea that I might need to start drinking.

So there we were, just sittting there eating and chatting, when Dan suddenly said he would pay Seth 50 bucks if he could name the group who was responsible for the song playing overhead. Blank look from the kid. "It's a late 60s, early 70s band." Blank stare. "Iconic." He finally replied "The Rolling Stones." "Nope, but kind of close in the name." Still staring. "It's Sly and the Family Stone, Seth. Have you heard of them?" "Nope.

Pretty soon, Seth asked if we could name the artist who sings intro to some random blog that I've never heard of. It may be a youtube video blog, for all I know, but I can't remember the name, because what came after that cracked me up so much that I had to get out my inhaler.
Remember, he's challenging us to name the name of the artist.

"It's two words." Blank look, from the parents this time. "Well, not two words, but one of those two word words that's really one word." I asked him "you mean a compound word?" "Yeah. A compound word. Except it's not really two words. Well, it's not two words at all." VERY blank stare from the parents. Dan finally gave up the ghost and said "I give up. Who is it?"

Seth looked him right in the eye and said, with a note of frustration, "I have no idea. I was hoping you'd know."

Good Lord.

Wherein my superpowers are revealed.

Kinda crazy evening, dealing with T-mobile and a stolen phone -- they were wonderful, I might add, but it went far enough into the dinner hour that I decided to order Chinese. Hoppy Gardin, as I call it, does not take anything but cash for deliveries, so I decided to go pick it up, so I could use my debit card.

So, I found myself sitting on the corner near our house, mindlessly waiting for the light to turn green. Dum de dum...... So I think to myself, there sure used to be a lot of accidents at this intersection. I haven't heard of any for a while, but they sure could use a left turn light here, because I bet there still are accidents that I just don't hear about. Dum de dum......

BAM. I look up, and two cars have slammed into each other. They, in turn, slide into a car that, like me, is sitting in the left turn lane, innocently waiting for the light to turn green. Her car, in turn, slams into the car behind her. ::sigh:: Apparently, I have a newfound skill: thinking about things and watching them happen. Great.

This is where it can get complicated for a nurse. Lots of things go through your head very quickly: do you stop or not, is it safe to stop, and if you can stop, where is it safe to park so that you don't become one of the victims. It's not really a choice when you don't see anyone get outta the cars, or there's blood flowing.

I pull across, get in front of the wrecked cars and get out of my car, at the same moment as two of the cars start emptying. Guy #1 disentangles himself from the airbag, gets out and yells "Bitch HIT me!" Girl in car #3 gets out and yells "Effin bitch, wth..." ::sigh:: It's fun living in the ghetto, folks. You don't need a big vocabulary. Funny thing is, the "bitch" who was driving the car that started it was a dude. Anyway, I look in the other car, where guy #2 is getting out, looking rather dazed. He climbs back in his car pretty quickly when he realizes that everyone is mad at him. I'm looking in the back of the girl's car, where a guy has his head thrown back and is looking pretty green. He's not responding to me till she sticks her head in and yells at him, "HEY. Are you ok?". "Yeah." I ask if he's ok, and he turns his head a little bit toward me, then nods. She says "yeah, he was already sick, and now look at what that bitch did." ::sigh:: That's when I realize that there's a girl who's never made it out of the second car. She's awake, but her head hurts. I can't get to her, cause her door is damaged and won't open, so I tell her to stay still till the paramedics get there. Guy #2 is rubbing his elbow and asking how his car looks, still afraid to get out because everyone is mad at him. Yeah, it's better if he stays put, although Guy #1 is now crying. He's upset about his brand new car that he got three days ago, which now has some pretty significant damage. I feel his pain.

Two guys come up and say they've called 911. That's when I realize -- no lie, cause I can't make this up -- that one is a very effeminate Little Person, and the other is a very tall, very equally effeminate guy who is frantically gesticulating and telling me "they said to make her lay still, honey." Good Lord. How do I find myself in these situations? Only I could end up triaging patients in the middle of RuPaul's Drag Race.

We heard sirens, and I kid you not, RuPaul #2 went walking straight into traffic on 10th Street -- which was still moving at quite a clip, mind you -- waving his arms and jumping around, saying "thiiiis way, thiiiiis way." All he needed was a hankie to wave, it was so comical. I'm pretty sure that he wanted to be first to see the firemen, who, when they arrived, were disappointingly Not Hot. The two RuPauls disappeared shortly thereafter. I give everybody my name and cell phone number, talk to the police a bit, and went to get in my car. That's when I realize that car #4's driver has never gotten out of the car. She's in her sixties or so, and is just sitting there not saying a word. Good Lord. "Are you ok," I ask. She just smiled and nodded. "I'm just waiting for them to sort it out," she said, as I put my seatbelt on. Her car actually looks fine, and I thought to myself, "she's ok, and she probably the most normal one in the group." With age comes wisdom.

I was still smiling and shaking my head as I drove away. Who'd have thought? All I wanted was some Chinese food, and instead, I discovered I had superpowers.