The Long Haul

I love my boyfriend. He comforts me when I am sad, talks reason into me, keeps me grounded and has generally kept me from accidentally setting myself on fire. He’s awesome and together we make a very happy couple.

Until…

We get into a car together for a road trip. There is something about the car that turns us from a happy couple to wanting to throw each other out the window. It’s especially worse when I am at the wheel, as he happens to think I suck at driving. But it doesn’t matter which one of us is driving. It always unravels at some point.

On Friday we set off for our friend’s farm in NY and we were barely on the way when already we were both plotting how to tie the other to roof for the remainder of the journey. Typically, it’s the first ride of a trip and then from there it’s smooth sailing, and the hilarious part is as soon as we get to where ever it is we’re traveling, no matter how at each other’s throats we were, we are totally fine. We are right back to where were, as happy as ever. Case in point, this weekend. The minute our feet hit ground, all ill car will suddenly disappeared.

So what is it about the car? I mean it has so many other soothing qualities, like helping babies and toddlers fall to sleep and leisurely drives. Why does it have the reverse effect on us? Maybe that’s it. It has a calming effect that can only be applied to things that are not calm. When they’re calm it does the opposite. Hmmm, another discovery by yours truly.

Well, I guess it’s just one of those pieces of life you have to live with. I guess I can rule out going on the Amazing Race. Although that would make for some bad TV, which usually translates to good TV.

At least my home life is not at all like the long car rides; neither of has tried to shove the other out of the kitchen window and we don’t need to fight over a map to get to the bedroom. So I guess I can take it every once in a while. The alternative is starting a caravan, which really isn’t an option.

I suppose this is what they mean when they say in it for the long haul. That’s quite alright with me, I’ll just arm myself with some Led Zeppelin, Twizzlers, and a large coffee to help make the bumps a bit smoother.

Spilling the Beans

I’m extremely tired, my stomach hurts, my throat hurts, my ears feel like they are going to explode, so because I am super whiny and have been so negligent with posting (and blogging in general; I know there’s a lot of good stuff I’m missing out on), I feel like spilling some secrets. Some things about me that very few, if any one, know. OK, so they’re not really juicy, more odd and embarrassing than anything, and this is assuming anyone cares. OK, so I am feeling a bit vain too, but whatever. Here you go:

I am a fan of Rod Stewart (not all his songs; select hits)

I use the bathroom as a place of refuge. (have for years, public and private whenever I’m nervous or need time to collect my thoughts)

When I am feeling upset, I sing “Ooh Child” to myself.

I am freaked out by strands of DNA (the kind they use as a model in biology class)

I cannot do basic subtraction (at least not when when some of the bottom numbers are greater than the top; did that make sense?)

(This one is really embarrassing; I can’t believe I am admitting it) Whenever I eat pretzels of any kind, I lick the bottom part (where’s it kind of burnt) and…smell it. I know it’s so weird, but I can’t help it. It makes it smell all doughy. I do it all of the time too, even when other are around. I have to be super stealthy. Though once my mother made a comment like “Well, aren’t you going to smell it?” Apparently, she’s known my whole life so I guess I’m not that slick.

In college I was practicing my self defense moves (from a class I was taking) and I broke the stairs to our fire escape because I was kicking it. The landlord was pissed and I had to lie and say I didn’t know who did it.

I once auditioned for a reality show. I won’t say which one because that is way too embarrassing to admit. The whole thing is, but which show it was is even worse. My boyfriend talked me into it.

In sixth grade, my best friend and I created a dance routine to “Let’s Get Physical” for a talent show.

I had a birthday party in the 8th grade and only two people showed up. My mom got really mad at me because she made a bunch of food and no one came. I was so upset. I wanted to cry but I didn’t. OK, that one is sad, but maybe a little pity will make up for the strangeness. Maybe.

Alright, so that’s all the secrets you get for one day. Like I said not juicy but maybe it made at least one person feel a little less strange about their own odd quirks.