Sunday Bloody Sunday

My memorial day weekend was one of the more memorable weekends I have had in awhile
thanks to a bizarro Sunday afternoon. It started off as usual, woke up to take Eric to church, got in the car, decided to stop at McDonald's, was served by a lady who resembled IT. I never found Mcmuffins horrifying until this day. She left out Eric's order so we had to ask a man who I am certain was just released from prison 2 hours prior to starting his shift. Parents beware. It's no longer the Hamburglar you have to watch out for at the playland. We drove to Layton and while pulling into the parking lot and being directed to make a sharp right to the side of the building I made a sharp as hell turn right into the curb! According to Eric my face was that of a priceless 'O shit! What the hell happened?!?' I remember his face was that of " Are you shitting me woman what the hell were you thinking??!!" And then we watched my hub cab roll up the side walk. I opened my door to asses the damage. Upon stepping out I heard a continuing 'whoooooooooooosh' from all the air escaping from my tire out of a huge gaping hole. All Eric could do was laugh. Hysterically. Leading me to laugh. Hysterically. I made him swear to secrecy because of how mortified I was to be myself in that moment. Standing out in the rain in my jammies searching for a jack because I drive like a jack-ass. all the while trying to pass the buck on him by saying, had he not told me how to drive none of this would have happened in the first place. Then turning around to see the huge curb that I so blindly collided into, wondering where a sewer pipe might me so I could slither in and hide for the rest of my days.. Now here I am blogging about it? Nice.
We never found a Jack so we had no other choice than to go ask one of his band members if they had one.
So there I was in my pajamas glaring at my boyfriend to not say another word as he tried with all his might to hold in his laughter as he changed my tire while his guitarist inquisitively persisted on knowing how that big hole in the inside of my tire wall happened. Finally I caved and fessed up to my mishap. My boyfriend and his guitarist's chuckles were quickly interrupted by the Dixie chicks serenading from someones cell phone. Surprisingly, It wasn't my cell phone and it was coming from my Boyfriends pants. He turned bright red when he realized that it was his phone and after I had lent him my old cell he forgot to change the ring tone. He tried to explain as he looked up to his Rock-n-roll Guitarist who had the most puzzled expression on his face because he was probably humming a power ballad by Guns n Roses in his head and the sweet honkey tonk chick jam interuppted the sick guitar solo.. The song 'Cowboy take me away' will forever bring us to laughter.
Anyway.. I returned to church after going home to clean myself up. Even the service felt a little off beat this particular Sunday. After the service Eric and I drove to Wal-Mart to get my tire repaired. This is where my beloved boyfriend found out how to correctly screw lug nuts onto a tire. Yep, that's right I drove clear to North Ogden and back on Backwards nuts screwed onto the doughnut to my little toaster car which was cargoing my precious life inside! I could have been killed!
I quickly forgot about my near near death experience as we played with all the bouncy balls, jump ropes, cowboy hats, baseball bats, night vision goggles, bicycle horns and poping pushing infant toys in the toy section waiting for my car to be fixed. And all the way home I was entertained by the inner child inside my boyfriend as he played with his new flute, his new red yo-yo and fashioned his new spandex pirate tattoo sleeve for all the passer-bys on the freeway. I haven't laughed that hard in one day in.. well, ever.
Fortunately my Toaster wasn't damaged besides the the two tires. And fortunately I had my boyfriend there to help me learn to laugh at myself even in the 'O shit' moments. Because shit will happen. And I think when wading through the shit, a shit-eaten grin makes it much more bearable, a Yo-Yo and a flute doesn't hurt to have around either.
So, Memorial day weekend has passed. The hot as the devil summer days are upon us. I have some exciting events up and coming. Like.. In approximately 3 weeks I will be an Aunt. I am so so excited to meet my new nephew. Despite the fact that kids usually make me want to put armpit high rubber gloves on and carry around large quantities of ear plugs. I am pumped!
The birth of the baby means my Sister Megan is coming home. I miss her.
I am going to Bear lake next weekend to have a one nighter get away with my boyfriend and his band. Last time I was in bear lake I almost ran the place dry of fresh raspberry milkshakes and spent the entire day in search of the lock-nest monster. I plan on doing the exact same thing this time around.
Hopefully we manage to avoid anymore run-ins with sneaky curbs.
June ought to be a good month.

Serious decision making with the help of Conway Twitty.

Whats this?? Another blog?? You don't say...
This is all I have to keep me sane. As I type I am being serenaded by Eric Clapton.. Before that it was Neil Diamond, before that.. Conway Twitty. I guess I asked for it. I was complaining before about the deafening silence. Now I am spending my days jamming out with the Golden Girls.
I have been considering going back to school to do the Surgical Tech Program. So last night I went to Steven Hennigar's college to see what their program was all about. Much to my dismay you have to take a basic aptitude test to be accepted into the medical program. So there I was in the foyer of a college having an anxiety attack with my eyes welling up with tears, my heart pounding 347 miles per minute and the uncontrollable desire to run as far away from the number 2 pencil they were handing me and the evil booklet of math questions that always make me look a fool. I explained to them that I was a dyslexic and I didn't test well. A lady piped up and offered to read me the exam. I bitterly replied "I can read!!" after a bit of convincing, I stayed. The first try at the exam didn't go as well as the second. But.. I PASSED! For many of you a basic knowledge test is cake.For me.. No. Its more like raw cake mix and an easy bake oven with a broken light bulb. The women were all so proud of me for passing (thanks to my dramatical distress call in the foyer) and not only for passing but getting a rather high score. I never pass tests. Ever.
Shortly after the test another women came in to go over the Surgical Tech program. Two things changed my mind. 1. They only offer it during the day. 2. Colon surgery is a very common procedure. Those of you who know me know I can handle blood, guts, puke, brains, whatever but I can't handle and won't handle Poop. Unless you want to be covered in regurgitated Dr pepper, gold fish and a lean cuisine.
As I thanked her for her time she caught my attention by bringing up Respiratory Therapy. No Poo. Just breathing. They make about $42,000 a year. ( as much as an RN ) with the possibility to make much more upon getting a bachelors. I was intrigued. I can't imagine how rewarding a job like that would be. Saving a persons life by giving them breath. Seems incomparable to bringing through reports on lost bicycles.
But It also costs a shit ton of dough. $ 51,000 buckaroos to be precise. How in the carnations would I ever pay a loan like that off?! And working and going to school from 6am to 10pm does not sound all that appealing nor possible for me to even consider. I know me. And the me I know likes to have a life and also enjoys television re-runs and sitting on my biscuit on my sofa drinking up surd amounts of Dr pepper whilst eating Ding-dongs.. But I know what a positive step this would be for my future. And the life I could have in a year and a half.
In my current line of duty I try every day to have a fresh new perspective on my job. It pays decently well. Its easy. I have Weekends and Holidays off, I enjoy working with the fuzz and I have become a professional quiz taking facebook lurker. But I feel, well, useless. And the company I am forced to keep whilst on the clock certainly does not help with my pessimistic work-funk. And the position I have hoped to move up into is looking like less and less of a possibility given the politics.
I just can't decide. If only I could move into an address on easy street. Maybe then the bills wouldn't keep piling up higher and higher and people never said bad things about others, and if people weren't so petty and spiteful. And feelings never got hurt and people stayed faithful, And jobs paid well and nobody struggled. Actually, Horton hears a Who said it best.. "In my world everyone is a pony, and they all eat rainbows, and poop butterflies"
Its boiling down to this. Perhaps I'll convince all those peeps I hold dear to my heart to hop a flight with me to Mexico. ( after this little oinking infestation is cleared up. Obviously) Build a little shack on the beach, spend all our days in our swim suits, never learn Spanish, sell fruit and trinkets to tourists, and collect Mexican welfare. Then go to local business's and curse at them in English and benefit by pulling the racial profiling card. Karma is a bitch people. ( I wonder how you say karma in espanol? ) Betcha can't tell what experience I got to have today at work!
Anyway.. That's what I'm doing lately just juggling around the idea.. to go to school or not to go to school. Think Think Think. Pro con pro con con con pro pro pro. CON.
The end.