Wonder Sticks

I swear this blog will one day not be an ongoing chronicle of my awkward moments - but ANOTHER one happened!

So, as many of you know I've been trying for some time to get pregnant. A few weeks ago, I went to CVS to pick up some ovulation tests. (For my male readers, these little wonder sticks tell if you can get pregnant or not. Not if you are pregnant, but can you become pregnant. Understand?) Maybe I should just end the entry here. Everyone feel awkward enough? Everyone picturing me peeing on these sticks? Perfect.

Anyway, I found the ovulation tests, but the one I wanted to get only had one left and that box was actually open and missing one of the sticks. So, I went to the store manager and showed him the open box and asked if he had anymore of "these" in the back. He then proceeded to grab the box, read the box and then look at me and ask, "What are these things for?" Really? We are doing this? Mind you this manager looked like: "College wasn't exactly his thing," and "Managing McDonalds seemed like too much responsibility" and "A woman isn't something he's actually hung out with."

So, for a few seconds I just stood there and then finally said, "Um, they are for getting pregnant." Wow, talk about a confused face. I think he actually thought these wonder sticks GET you pregnant because he said, "Really? How?" Again, we are doing this? Finally, I grabbed the box, contemplated taking the vandalized box home and trying it anyway, and then decided to leave. As I turned to go, he asked, while grabbing a pregnant test, "Will this work instead?"

Um...no.

My New Victims

Today, I went to Home Depot to buy some flowers for my outside balcony. After wandering around for a few minutes, I found an employee and had the following conversation:

Home Depot Employee: "Can I help you find something?"

Kate: "Um, yeah, I'm looking for some idiot proof flowers."

Home Depot Employee: "Have you bought any flowers before?"

Kate: (While turning my back on the flowers and speaking in a low voice) "Actually, I got to be honest...I've killed a few of these guys in my day...I guess, I'm just here looking for my new victim." (Cue awkward laugh and glance away.)

Home Depot Employee: (Turning his body to shield the plants) "Um, have you thought of plastic flowers?"

Come on...not a little funny?

Lousy Service

It would be a mild understatement to say our apartment building has had some issues over the years. For example, there was a fun time when our bathtub and sink used to throw up dirt and other types of bile from the depths of hell, and another favorite is when the ceiling over our shower began to grow slightly concave (yes, I still have a slight anxiety when showering.) I also loved the smoker we have next door who makes our lovely lobby smell like a cheap motel, and who can forget the incredible security system that ensured our bikes and all our neighbors' were stolen from our garage. Now, as annoying as all these things have been none of us have really made much of a stink over them. However, there has been one annoyance that has literally caused all the old people in our building to go completely crazy - the elevator.

About once a week the elevator just decides to die. Now, I live on the first floor (blog stalkers please keep your distance) so the death of the elevator does not effect me as much. Sure, it's annoying to walk the extra steps through the garage with groceries, but let's be honest, I'm usually only carrying a cereal box, milk and some bread, but for the old people this just pisses them off. Over the years, they have congregated in the lobby and muttered words of disgust as you innocently go to get your mail, they've left notes on the elevator informing loved ones they died because they were unable to travel three flights of stairs to get to the hospital and they have broken hips (wait...that might have just happened on its own.) Anyway, the other morning I woke up and found these posters all over the lobby:
I have to give them credit. I like the use of the word "dangerous." It changes the game. Now, I want this elevator fixed more than anything because now I'm afraid. Before, annoyed. Now, afraid. I also like that they bring up the fact that we pay too much...for what? Yeah, "lousy service." Again, game changer. Before, I was like, "I live in a nice apartment with a fickle elevator." Now, I'm like, "I live in a luxury hotel that is not bringing me champagne and strawberries, and I will not put up with this lousy service." So, again, fix this elevator. And lastly, invoking our manager's name is fantastic. It says, "Yeah, we're old and sit in our apartments all day, but we know...we know your name."

Has the elevator died since? Yep. Will it die again? Will someone on the third floor break a hip?

No Sympathy Here

I had a good thing going with the whole awkward thing so I thought I would add another story. So, as many of you know, I've been trying for quite some time to have a baby. And during this sweet time of life, I've been waiting tables - just to ensure God knows I'm willing to really do anything to get a baby. (Yes, even answer the same questions all day long - and if any of you were wondering, after visiting our little establishment, the "freshly squeezed OJ" is truly freshly squeezed*, the California burger is half the size of our cheeseburger and the bathroom is down the hallway and to the left.)

So, I must also admit that while waiting tables I've "mentioned" a few times to customers that I'm trying to start a family. What? Sympathy tips are fantastic and I'm not below really anything when it comes to cold cash. Anyway, there's this slightly bizarre couple that comes in every Thursday and insists on sitting at the same table every time. (They have even asked people to move when they come in.) And what makes them even more fun is that 1. They always manage to call me a different name. Do I really look like a Carol? 2. They always order the same forsaken thing, and yet, always insist on telling me the order in full detail. (To which, I always try to interrupt them and tell them already what they are going to say, and yet, they will continue saying, "...Now please make sure the chef knows I like my tuna burger well done." Well done? A tuna burger? What a crazy order - YOU ORDER EVERY FREAKING TIME!) and 3. No, matter what, they always manage to order pancakes to go, again, a total natural progression from a tuna burger, and always manage to forget them. (This is actually their only redeeming quality.)

So, the other day we got talking and they mentioned they remembered me saying I was trying to start a family. I went to thank them for remembering, and then stopped immediately, when I saw them hand me a book entitled "I'm Okay...You're A Brat!" As I went to ask what the crap this book was about, Susan informed me she was the author, and that the book was about how it's okay to hate your kid. Yeah, you read that right - it's okay to hate your kid. Susan then proceeded to tell me how having her son was the biggest mistake of her life, and how it completely ruined every thing she wanted to accomplish. Now, I should mention, though you have probably already gathered this, Susan has a PhD (in what, I'm not sure) and according to her bio, is a best-selling author, a workshop leader, a public speaker and a media personality. (I've spoken in church a few times - does that make me a public speaker?)

Anyway, it was by far the strangest conversation I've had in a long time. I kept saying, "Well, I'm still going to try, " and Susan saying, "Well, I would think really hard about it." Finally, I just said, "Thanks for the advice. I'll keep it in mind."

I think I'm going to write a book for Susan entitled, "I'm Okay...You Are Just Freaking Weird!"

*Not really.

Some Holiday Thoughts

Happy New Year everyone! Well, it's been quite a holiday for me and the husband. We've been to Salt Lake City, Vegas, St. George, Utah (for those of you who are not experts on the cities of Utah) and then back to LA. I really don't want to see the inside of a car for a few weeks.

Anyway, I've had a few thoughts over the holidays, and well, without a proper opening, here they are in no particular order.

1. A few weeks before Christmas, the husband and I did some shopping. In the course of our holiday hunt, we entered Forever 21. Now, I don't know if I'm the only one who feels this way, but this store makes me feel like I'm having a seizure every time I'm in it. Honestly, does anyone, who works for Forever 21, follow Tim Gunn's sage advice and edit their designs? In one section of the store are plaid skirts, silk shirts, cheap shoes and large ridiculous belts. Just as you are trying to decipher between a belt and a shoe, you turn the corner and are assaulted with more prints, ruffles and leather. After five minutes of being in this store I don't know if they are selling clothes or this is a storage area of 15 different neighborhoods' garage sales. Finally, after I lost the husband twice (he was actually right next to me, but I couldn't see him among all the chaos) I threw my hands over my eyes and asked to be safely guided out.

Will someone please tell me how to shop at this store?

2. Thought number 2: Vegas is weird and the strangest people go there. (Not including me and the husband) For example, while the husband was checking into our hotel, I stood by the elevators and observed the following people walk by: 1. An Asian family consisting of a Grandma, who kept knocking into slot machines, a child, who kept screaming something in Chinese, her mom, who was oblivious to her screams and three other men, who looked like they just wanted a smoke or a buffet. 2. Four rednecks covered in camouflage, carrying beers in each hand, looked at me and said, "Hey remember, what happens in Vegas..." cue wink and then high fives from their buddies. (I sort of wanted a hunting rifle at that moment.) and 3. 1 high school student, who was dragged from his basement and Call of Duty video game, to go to Vegas with his Mom, who likes to knit pillows with kittens on them, and his Dad, who is an accountant and hates gambling because of the frivolous loss of money it causes. (Alright I wasn't sure about the knitting, but I have never seen a family more miserable and more out of place.)

So, the question is - why do all these bizarre people come to Vegas? What is it about Vegas that unifies us all? And where do I fit into all this?

3. Thought number 3 - buffets are just plain wrong. At eleven in the morning the husband and I entered a buffet and left an hour later feeling like we wanted to kill ourselves. Who decided to allow Americans, fat Americans, to enter a room and be allowed to eat ribs, chicken, omelets, donuts, ice cream, corn, sushi, french fries and hot dogs all in ONE sitting and ALL YOU CAN EAT? I swear, as I sat there watching my husband gnaw on ribs in one hand and bacon in the other, I thought, this is it....this is where he dies. (see picture above)

4. Will someone please bomb the fruit inspection stand just outside Barstow? Please. Or please let me know how much they make to wave people through. I'm pretty good at looking ambivalent and nodding my head.

Alright there's more thoughts - but that's enough for tonight.

Thoughts on my thoughts?