There's this stupid commercial that comes on every morning on my clock radio. That was a subtle way of bragging that I have a clock radio. I know! You too can aspire to have the fancy things in life like June.
Anyway, it's a commercial for Alarm Force, which I assume is some kind of home alarm system. I have never actually listened to the commercial, I just know once they sing, "Alarm Force!" that both Marvin and I sing it too, from whatever room of the house we're in. Sometimes one or both of us will sing it several minutes later, too. It'd be a powerful ad if the rest of it were as compelling.
Hey, did you notice I started adding categories to my posts? For the last few nights I have been combing through my old posts and adding categories. "My pets" seems to be a popular one. I realized several months in that I should have had a TinyTown category, but really any post from January to April of 2008 is about TinyTown.
And speaking of towns, I can now tell you the thrilling story of how I almost peed my car.
About 50% of the reason we left LA was the traffic. I am not even kidding you. You know how traffic is kind of one of those stereotypical LA things, along with hanging at the beach (which you can never do due to traffic) and movie stars (who you can never see cause you're stuck in traffic)? Yeah.
I don't even know if I can describe for you how much traffic impacts your life there. I know a person who moved away after she was in mid-city on a regular street and it took her an hour to move a mile.
An HOUR to move a MILE.
If you make a friend at work? And you say, "We should get together outside of work sometime," you then have to ask where the person lives. "Silverlake," you'll say. "Riverside," the other person will say, defeated. You know you can't be friends because with traffic you are two hours apart. Each way.
I lived 16 miles from work and it took me an hour each way. You go about 10 or 20 mph on the freeway, which is why I got Sirius radio. Otherwise I would have impaled myself with my own grille or something. "Grille" is the only car term I know, and that's why I impaled myself with that, as opposed to the knock sensor. (I just asked Marvin to name a weird car part.)
The point of my story, here, is traffic sucks in LA. It sucks bad.
So you can imagine how nice it is to live here, and sail right onto the freeway every morning to go to work. I go 80 the whole way. Why so many tickets?
And here is the other thing. Because I can get to work so easily, I have time to ingest two gigantic mugs of coffee before I go. Mmm-hmmm.
Last Friday, I was cruising along to work, when I took an exit and all of a sudden (or all the sudden, if you want to irk me) traffic was stopped. I swear it's the first time that ever happened in my year and a half at this job. "Hunh," I said, and waited for traffic to start moving again.
I waited. And I waited. And I waited. And I went one-tenth of a mile in 20 minutes. I called the non-emergency police to see if they knew something was up. And here's what irks me about the South. I was transferred four places before anyone knew there was a horrendous holdup, but man, was everyone nice about it. "No, ma'am we don't take care of highway traffic, but ain't you got a pretty voice?"
Turns out some paving company was illegally paving, blah blah blah. But after 30 minutes? And I was still sitting there? I realized it was my pee time.
I get to work at 8:00, turn on my computer, and then, you know, I pee. Not right there in front of my computer. But here it was, 8:00, and I was 10 miles from work, STUCK IN TRAFFIC, no movement in sight. So to speak.
I sat there until about 8:20 before I really started to worry. I mean, I was NOT MOVING AT ALL. There appeared to be no end in sight. So again I did the adult thing. I called my mother.
"Honey, that's not healthy," she said. "Just pee your pants." Then she went on to tell me a story about a time SHE was stuck in traffic having to pee.
Okay, thanks, Dr. Phil.
And really, having to pee really bad is one of the worst feelings, isn't it?
At any rate, I finally was able to eek up to an exit, and you have never seen anyone scream up an exit ramp more dramatically. I stampeded to the first gas station I saw, and ran to the bathrooms.
The women's room was locked.
I went to the men's room. That is how much I did not care at that point. And can I just say. Men? Why am I attracted to you? Cause y'all are gross.
And that was my dramatic and riveting how-I-almost-peed-in-the-car story.
Urine for a good time when you read my posts.