Megabust

I go back and forth with the way I feel about public transportation. I especially liked my metro and bus commute to work the week that I was reading Tuesdays with Morrie, but I hate it most other times. It's not the disgusting, germ-infested poles that offend me, nor the outrageous personalities of the fellow passengers. It is the muggy, thick underground air, the mile-high creeping escalators, and the seemingly uninformed individuals who stare so deeply at you, that you feel like they want to eat every last part of your soul.

My boyfriend, Ed, is from New York, so he's very saavy with getting around large cities. In fact, the first time that I visited him I got shin splints from running to try to catch the "7:00 ferry." Of course, at that time we were not officially dating, so I limped with a smile, but was screaming inside my head. Now, that kind of hustling would never happen. I'm really unpleasant once I feel comfortable with someone.

Anyway, Ed is in grad school at Virginia Tech, and he encouraged me to take the Megabus to Christiansburg. He said it's very easy, the bus comes to Union Station, and it's only $14 each way. I hesitantly bought the tickets, and now I see why they are so cheap. 

I left Arlington at 1pm, and after changing from the orange line to the red line, finally arrived at Union Station around 12:30. I flagged down a metro employee, and it became clear right away that he was disinterested in helping me with directions. He shrugged me off and said, "Yea, yea Megabus is outside." Maybe the climate gets to him, too?

I got outside and after being attacked by a large (in size and numbers) group of religious conspiracist women, finally found another metro employee. He patiently and kindly told me to go back inside, go up the escalator, turn around three times, ask a guy named Bill for a banana, meet Susan, sneeze, and head up a flight of stairs to the bus platform.

I headed inside, and you need to realize that at this point I am sweating horribly. And, I smell like bacon because I decided to make some before I left.

I found the bus "platform," and waited in line by all of the Megabuses, only to find out that I was actually in line for a bus to New York. Wonderful. The woman led me in the right direction where I proceeded to wait in line for a bus to Pittsburgh before a nice girl noticed my Hokie-ness, and told me to move down one line.

The bus finally pulled up, and we boarded right away. Once I was situated, I whipped out my laptop to begin doing work. At this point, I felt that the trip was still average because by some act of God, nobody sat next to me in the row.

"Attention passengers, you're on the wrong bus. Sorry. You need to move now."

Really? Aren't they all the same bus? Can't they just switch out drivers and the marquee? Whatever. We all got off and were told to get on the next bus, but an extremely passive aggressive worker told us to wait outside. Minutes began to feel like hours. She yelled at someone in the crowd that she could speak for herself. She then felt guilty and told us she was so happy that we were all going to be riding with her.

Anyway, here I am. Sitting in traffic in DC. I could've just left at 12, and been halfway there by now, but there's no sense in talking about shoulda, woulda, couldas. The worst part of this whole trip? Whoever sat in the seat before me had a scalp made of butter, and left their grease spots all over the window.

4 more hours to go...

UPDATE: Breaking news. The trip home was even worse. Ed and I got to the Christiansburg "stop" (which by the way is off of the side of a highway) 30 minutes early, and waited inside his car. The bus was supposed to come at 3:45, so at 3:40, we schlepped my bags to the curb. Next thing we knew, it was 4:00, and the bus was nowhere in sight. The sun blazed down on my baggy sweatpants, but I remained calm. Well, I thought, at least I get to spend more time with Ed.

We sat down on a half curb--the kind that is about an inch from the ground--and placed bets when the bus would come. Every time there was a loud noise, we whipped our heads around. At 4:45 I'd had enough, and called Megabus. A nice man was shocked when he looked at the bus schedule and found that my bus had actually arrived 45 minutes early, and left. How wonderful! He said to call back in 15 minutes because he was "checking on some things." 14 minutes later I rang and got a hold of a different representative. The woman sounded like she hated her job (is anyone surprised), but got me on the 7:20 bus. I asked her if the bus was going to come early and leave me again. She said no. Hesitantly.

Ed and I went shopping and to get food, and came back an hour early for the 7:20 bus. As we pulled up, guess who was already there? The Megabus! A few of us scrambled from our cars to the bus, and talked about our state of shock. We were confused as to whether the bus was continuing down to Nashville, or turning around and going to DC. The passive aggressive bus driver from the trip down was once again our driver, and she closed the door in our face when we asked.

A lot of other horrible things happened which mainly were attributed to her attitude, but a few notable things should be covered:

• The guy behind me snored so loud that I could hear him over Eminem music at its loudest volume
• The guy behind me had such bad breath that I could smell it
• The bus was about 50 degrees
• The guy diagonal to me smoked a swisher sweet inside of a blanket in the middle of our trip (I swear to God)

The End.

Five Minutes of Hell

This afternoon, I ferociously swung open the door to my apartment. Carrying three heavy bags a distance of 20 feet caused me to work up a sweat (it's 101 degrees), and I was tired from work. "UGH!" I screamed, and kicked off my shoes. My left big toe throbbed due to the infection I've incurred after getting my ingrown nail removed, and I hobbled to the fridge for my favorite activity--drinking beer.

Panic spread over my face... I thought I had put at least 3 beers in here before I left for work, but only one chilled beverage looked me in the eyes. Fine, I grabbed it, and poured it in a glass. I'm on Weight Watchers anyway.

Before turning around, the bottom plastic part of the fridge fell off. Annoyance now started to kick in. I had JUST fixed this before work. Why do I pay $1,000/month to live in an apartment with a fridge that has compartments falling off of it? Two minutes of jostling later, I was well on my way to the couch to drink my IPA and watch Real Housewives.

HA! Not yet.

While walking to the family room, I knocked over a bag of farro grains, and the bag exploded everywhere. FINE. I figured I'd just get the broom out, and sweep it up. I walked to the closet to grab the broom, and while pulling it out, my cat's carrier fell out and landed on my toe. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!?!!?" After hopping up and down and yelling, it started to feel better. I went back to the kitchen to clean up the mess, and just my luck... the grains were slipping under the dustpan. Fantastic! Looks like I'd have to get the vacuum out.

I threw (literally) the broom in the closet and began the hour-long process it takes to unwind the vacuum cord (does anyone else feel like this is the most arduous task?), and plugged it in the wall. A quick switch of the on button, and just like that my kitchen rug was being sucked into the vacuum at the speed of light. Monkey fled the scene, and I began to cry. What did I do to deserve this?

I yanked the rug out of the vacuum, and pulled out the extension sucker (what's that thing even called?), to begin the grain clean-up. All was going well, until I kneeled on about 100 grains, causing a tremendous amount of pain.

Finally, I was done and sat down to drink my beer. I kicked up my feet to realize that the remote was on the couch opposite of me. Wonderful...

Wisdom Teeth Problems

Yesterday, I got all four of my wisdom teeth removed. Was I worried? Obviously not. However, it was the most ridiculous day of my entire life.

I got to the office at 8:15am, and they quickly placed me in the surgery room. While in there, the tall blonde nursing assistant was wearing purple lipstick and telling me a lot of important information that I needed to know about taking care of my ex-teeth after surgery. A few minutes later, the surgeon came in. First of all, he was extremely hot, so when he was talking to me I was thinking, "he's so ugly" the whole time so that I wouldn't say anything weird while under anesthesia.  The three of us then took turns discussing how much we hate it when people pronounce our last names wrong. Then, FIVE people entered the room, all hovering over me. The doctor was literally squatting next to me trying to get the needle in my vain (why not in a chair?), while the surgical assistants were gossiping about the other patients, and discussing aspects about me that they liked (i.e. my hair color, my teeth, etc.). At this moment I remember thinking that maybe this wasn't the best place for me to be getting my teeth ripped out of my gums.

When I woke up, who knows what I was saying. It could've honestly been anything. All I remember was an eager high five, and asking if I said anything embarrassing about Dr. R's attractiveness. The woman with the purple lipstick reassured me that I just passed out, but I'm sure the four gossip artists were in another room saying mean things about me while another patient slipped off into a deep sleep.

During this time, I found it quite odd that people were again telling me important things. I remember just laughing and saying, "Uhh can you just talk to my mom? What is this...?" I swear it was amateur hour.

Once we left the office, my mom insisted that we fill my prescription in Virginia before heading to Maryland. I was still pretty (legally) high so I didn't mind. However, once we got to Rite Aid, my mom insisted that I drink a bottle of water. After warning her that I couldn't feel my face, she continued staring at me, and handed me the bottle. I swear to God, not a single drop landed in my mouth. Pissed and concerned that I would never regain feeling in my face, I began crying and stomping around the store. After leaving, I took off my shirt and was literally wearing a bra and a peacoat. I thought nothing in the world was funnier, nor more comfortable.

After getting back to my apartment, Monkey refused to come out from under the bed. Blood dripped out of my mouth as I laid on the floor screaming and poking her with the broom. With Olivia's assistance, I managed to get her out, and firmly placed her in the carrier.

My mom and I then headed back to Baltimore, and I felt bad for being mean to Monkey earlier, so I took her out of the cage. After spending ten loving minutes together, Monkey decided that payback is a bitch, and leapt out of my arms, causing a humungous cut in my palm.

The rest of the day was pretty normal. My biggest concern was never being able to feel my lips or chin again, so I spent a couple hours reading testimonials about bad wisdom teeth extractions. Three months later, some people still couldn't feel a thing. I was positive that I was going to be another statistic.

I feel like a lot of other interesting things happened, but my medicine is kicking in so that's going to have to do. My mom and I both decided that I already have chubby cheeks so I look a lot better than most people do after this surgery.

Holla.

DC Socialite

I guess that this will be my last posting because I have nothing left to complain about. I. Finally. Got. A. Job. I'm honestly just really annoyed about how many tears I wasted crying about my future, as well as the amount of cover letters that I had to try too hard on.

The plan for now is to live at my friend's house in Sterling until I can get an apartment with two of my besties in Arlington. I am so excited to begin this journey (eye rolls accepted), and GTFO of Howard County. Being a poor young professional is pretty chic right now, and I am completely ready to own the title.

The place I am working for does 100% tuition reimbursement, so I'll probably just go to GW or something.

XOXO

LolSAT's, Hope, and a Crime

Let's be honest, did anyone really think that I was going to take the LSAT's? After studying tirelessly for a total of seven hours, I've decided that taking out a $75,000 loan for law school is comical. The only good thing about being a lawyer is the fact that black is super slimming on my round body.

So tomorrow I have the most important interview of my life for a job that I really want. If I get this job, I will finally be able to move out of my parents' house, and stop having to serve drinks to country club snobs. It encompasses everything that I am looking for in a career, and I know that I would be able to handle the pressure of it. Honestly, if I get another rejection, I will probably shave my head and end up in the looney bin.

Speaking of unfortunate events, I was robbed last night. Yep. $195 in cash, gone. I would love for everyone to keep in mind that I often bartend during the day shift, which typically equates to $10/day in tips. So, you can imagine how long it took for me to acquire that large sum of cash that was greedily stolen by some Old Ellicott City freak with sticky fingers. I literally went to the bathroom twice, and my friends were RIGHT there. And no, they didn't steal it. This led to me losing my buzz, shedding a tear, and having to call the cops to report stolen money. Of course I will never see that money again, but dialing 911 was a little bit of a thrill/head rush.

Could you say that this is the lowest point of my life? Not quite. But, if I don't get this job, I will likely become mental.

New York

Wow, what a shit hole. Everyone who says NYC is glam chic, is fucking insane. I spent all weekend hauling ass up and down crusty sidewalks, and eating in loud restaurants.

However, I have decided that I want to live there.

I mean the people are hilarious, there are a million things to do, and there are a lot of gays. In my dream world, I would get a job at the Brooklyn Brewery, and just plan events and drink beer all day. Let's be honest, a nice girl like me couldn't survive/pay the rent in Manhattan.

Or, I could just become the next Ted Williams.

Like It's Hard?

With the impending realization that I am not getting a job, I have made a drastic decision... to study for the LSAT's.  Ever since deciding that I was too dumb for business school, I have flirted with the idea of becoming a lawyer. Plus, I usually win every argument I am in even if I am wrong and have little facts to support my claims. I have gotten out of being grounded, and persuaded boyfriends not to dump me from the tender age of ten (oh my God, I totally was not instant messaging Joe!).

So here I am in the public library, holding an LSAT book, and blogging. This is the most work that I have done all summer.

In a positive twist, I have somehow convinced my previous employer who hated me to rehire me as a bartender, even though I have no bartending experience (SEE?!). After dealing with rejection after rejection from nonprofits throughout the east coast, it is nice to know that someone wants me... even if it is only for the day shift Monday through Wednesday.

Could I be the world's next Robert Kardashian? Only time will tell.

"You got into Harvard Law?" -Warner Huntington III
"What, like it's hard?" -Elle Woods