Vanderbilt Shmanderbilt Degree - A Large Slice of Humble Pie at the Temp Agency & the DMV

Earlier this month, I received a Masters degree from Vanderbilt. This was technically my third degree because I double-majored in undergrad.

Don't let the degrees fool you though. It seems I'm just book smart because I've been struggling recently with real life. 

Adult life is humbling. 

I wasn't getting too big for my britches with this additional degree but, nonetheless, I've had a huge slice of humble pie since moving to NC. I thought tests and grades ended with grad school but I was wrong. 

Trouble with the Temp Test

First, I went to a local temp agency to try to get a job to pay the bills and buy some time until I can land the "dream job" I'm searching for... you know the one I just went into debt trying to prepare myself for ;) I don't want to rush into the first salaried job that I find. 

Well, what do ya know... I failed the temp agency test. Yep. I repeat: Vanderbilt Masters Grad failed the temp test ;) 

It was true-false and you can only miss 3... but I missed 4. 

I'm sure this was hard to imagine butttt I was talking the whole time while taking it ;) I've been cooped up in my apartment alone and unpacking all day every day so my extroverted self has been losing my mind without much social interaction. 

As a result, I was just chatting away with the man who worked there and wasn't paying enough attention nor was I trying too hard with the test. It seems I don't multi-task too well when trying to determine "the best placement of my feet to avoid lumbar strain" and the other random questions that were on their test ;) 

Fortunately, I was able to retake it and did fine. Also, my typing speed was double the average applicant (it seems writing long grad school papers paid off!) so I believe I should land a secretary job here soon enough. 

Feeling Dumb at the DMV

I need a NC drivers license so I had to make the dreaded trip to the DMV. Why must all DMV workers be so mean? I understand it may not be the best job in the world but this lady was extremely rude. 

Still craving social interaction and never having met a stranger, I sat down being all friendly and noticed the woman was wearing palmetto tree earrings so I asked if she was originally from SC. She wasn't but it turns out she had just visited Charleston where she bought the earrings as a souvenir. I tried to chat about the city but she was having none of it. 

This lady was all about the task at hand. We struggled through insurance and verifying my address and all of that. Everything was going along per usual until we got to the vision test. 

NC does not do it like they do in SC and TN. 

I already struggle with my awful vision and have to squint through that weird machine and the germaphobe in me fears I will get a breakout from putting my face on there - I mean how often do they wipe those things down?? 

Anyways, I managed to read all the tiny letters. But then, this is where it got different: NC has a bunch of the street signs that you have to identify.

I did fine on the median one and the one warning about the steep hill. They were obvious.  

 

But, then there were 4 or 5 blank ones.... 

I just told the lady the shapes because I was thinking this was still a vision test. 

She said, all mean and condescending, "I know what the shapes are but what are the signs?"

Perhaps I was having performance anxiety as I had not prepared for this OR maybe I was just having a PTSD-esque flashback to my 15 year old self worried about failing the drivers permit test but, either way, I just couldn't remember them. 

All I could say was "I'm sorry. I don't know." 

But I was getting frustrated and wanted to also say, 

"Look lady. Those aren't signs. Those are shapes. Because they are blank. And when is the last time anyone has ever seen a blank sign on the side of the road? Oh that's right - never. Because then it wouldn't be a sign. Because that is the point of signs: they have symbols on them that convey meaning. But these little shapes you're asking me to identify are blank so they are not signs." 

But, of course, my southern belle self just sat there, humbled, and politely repeated, "I'm sorry. I don't know." 

As I said in the blogpost title" Vanderbilt Shmanderbilt Degree" ;) It wasn't much help at the temp agency or the DMV!

Do YOU know what the yellow circle sign is for? 

Fortunately, I guess they don't take the test too seriously or perhaps that mean woman just didn't want to have to see me again on a different day or whatever because she gave me my license. 

What she did NOT give me though, were the answers to the blank signs. 

The nerd in me had to find out. 

Turns out, (in case you too didn't know) the yellow circle sign is a railroad crossing sign: 

But you know what gives that away??? 

The R and the R and the cross/X that is marked ON the sign... not the yellow and the circle part. Jeeze Louise. 

The house shaped yellow sign is a school crossing and the oblong yellow triangle (that I have never seen in my entire life) is supposed to be a "no passing zone" sign. I don't even remember what the other one or two signs were. 

But that lady was being so mean and rude and I was caught off-guard by the blank "signs" section that I wanted to submit this as my answer: 

I don't think that would have helped me walk out of there with a license though ;) 

Hopefully I don't have to eat any more humble pie but I will keep y'all posted... 

  

Sarah Grace and the Blog are Back with a Bang.... Or Should I Say a Crash...?

I thought I would be able to keep up with my blog in grad school but that was a funny joke. No time for blogging on top of school, homework, a job, an internship and wedding planning.

However, now that summer is here, I am hoping to bring the blog back.

One of my family members can't make my upcoming wedding but said that she was hoping to read a wedding blogpost since our last family wedding unfolded into quite a tale.

It seems she won't have to wait until the wedding this Saturday because I already had a blogworthy moment this past week.

I have not had a significant Sarah Grace moment in months (I broke a lamp way back in the Fall semester) so I was hoping that I had perhaps outgrown my klutzyness. It appears I was wrong - big time.

Last Friday, literally a week before the wedding weekend, I hit Scott's car... with my car. And it was bad. And by bad, I mean a really huugggee dent that my dad - who is usually pretty calm - described as absolutely horrible.

I had turned the wheel really tight when I parked but forgot that when I was rushing to leave Scott's apartment. I was going too fast and also trying to fiddle with my GPS and instead of backing straight out of my parking spot, the wheel sorta whip-lashed and fishtailed the front end of my car into the driver's side of his truck that is less than a year old. I felt like a kid who got caught with their hand in the candy jar - I knew I was in trouble.

I felt awful and was sorta worried to tell Scott because I thought with all the stress of final wedding prep, this was the last thing we needed to deal with. I especially felt bad because the night before was his last night of work as a cop and he had to stay late because he was dealing with a homicide. After all that and not getting to bed til 5 am, I was going to have to wake him up early with the news that I had severely dented his truck.

I walked in and told him "This is going to be really funny one day."
He immediately asked "What did you do?"
I told him I had a major Sarah Grace moment and hit his truck.

Fortunately, he was calm and positive and not mad and had great perspective about the whole incident; now I am even more grateful to be marrying him. After test driving both his car and mine around the parking lot, we were relieved that both cars drove just fine and the damage was only cosmetic. By some miracle, I hit his car just past the drivers door and just before the gas tank so nothing serious was hit and all my car sustained were some scratches and a small crack near a light on the front bumper.

He is already using this incident as leverage and for comedic relief if I ask him to do some task for the wedding or give some driving instruction, he says "Oh wait. Who hit my car?"

The really worrisome thing about all of this is that two days after I hit his truck, he was scheduled to drive from SC to TN to drop off his truck, some of his things and some furniture at my apartment in Nashville. That really needed to happen before the wedding and breaking down on the interstate with all that stuff in his truck was going to be less than ideal.

Fortunately, he and all the stuff made it safely to TN and the insurance policy is going to repair both vehicles for just one deductible. Apparently, this kinda accident happens all the time so they have a routine policy: the car that is the innocent bystander in these situations doesn't have to use their deductible because they are listed as property damage under my deductible... so at least it's not just me denting up cars in parking lots ;)

At least I wasn't having a fit of bridezilla stress ramming into his car intentionally ;)

Plus, since I got my dose of Sarah Grace out of the way last week, I hopefully won't have an incident at the wedding like tripping going down the aisle or hitting a bridesmaid with my bouquet toss, etc. ;)

Beyond damaging both of our vehicles, we haven't had too much stress and there have been no bridezilla moments... so hopefully it stays that way! We are both just really excited to get married in 2 days!!! :)

Sarah Grace Glasses Moment(s)

I had two pairs of glasses. And how many did I break? Oh, you guessed it: two.

And how many times? Five. Yes. Five times.

Below is the real-life, ridiculous story of yet another Sarah Grace moment.

Unexpected Ending: Break # 1

My glasses were by no means brand new (I got both pairs with a buy one get one free groupon or something like that in 2008) but they weren't exactly old either. I certainly didn't think that their days were numbered. 

That is why over Christmas break I was shocked one morning when I got up and they broke. Just as casually as anything, I was in the bathroom and when I tilted my head down to find my toothpaste in the drawer, they fell right off my face and on the way down, one of the arms came clear off the glasses. 

And, of course, it wasn't a simple screw that came out and could be easily repaired. No, it was the actual entire arm coming apart from the glasses frame. 

I was shocked and bummed BUT I had my alternate pair and so I figured I could make do with those. 

Well, I was wrong: 

Another One Bites the Dust: Break # 2

 Less than a week later - seriously - my other pair broke. I was in the attic putting away Christmas decorations when they slid off my face and kicked up a pile of dust. When the dust cleared and I found them lying there, they too had lost an arm. 

I couldn't believe it. 

When I contacted the store where I purchased them, they told me that the warranty was only good for a year so I couldn't have them repaired or replaced. 

Ugh.

As for buying a new pair, not so simple because... even though I am no longer a student, I am covered by my parents' insurance for everything but... drum-roll please... optical. Naturally.

Since there was now no way around it, I began the search for a new, affordable pair of glasses and, in the mean time, decided to go Martha Stewarty and make do with my current glasses by hot-gluing them together. I thought the clear, durable glue might be a little stronger than tape and less noticeable or fashionably-offensive.

Harmful Hug: Break # 3

Hot glue may have been stronger than tape but it wasn't stronger than a cadet. For my job, I work with the Citadel and for those of you who don't know, it is a military college. As a result, the students there are strong and when they greet me, they give me can-hardly-breathe-bear-hugs as a hello.

On my very first day back at work, after the long break, one of my cadets was a little too over-zealous in his hello and as he went in for a hug, I warned "Watch the glasses!"

Alas, it was too late. 

I heard a snap and I felt them fall. 

The first pair of glasses that broke had broken again; there they lay with the same severed arm.

Troubling Tape: Break # 4

I searched through my still-to-be-unpacked bags and couldn't find my alternate pair anywhere :/ So what did I do? I taped them. Yes, unfortunately, I didn't have a glue gun here in Charleston but what did I have? 

Duct tape. 

And that will always, always, ALWAYS do the job, right? 

I'm afraid not... at least not when Sarah Grace is involved ;) 

I had them taped up and though the silver hardly blended in with my purple glasses, the tape at least wasn't in the cliche-over-the-nose-geek position but instead on the side. I told myself that surely when I styled my hair towards that side of my face, the tape was hardly visible... Yes, that is what I told myself. Thank God for side-swept bangs ;) 

But, you won't believe what happened next. 

I still can't even explain it. 

The next morning, the tape and the arm that was attached by the tape were missing from my glasses. I looked all over the bathroom and all over my bedroom but it hasn't turned up, even now, over a week later. 

My only explanation - since I had left my glasses in the bathroom on the sink above the toilet - is that somehow, some way the arm possibly slipped in the toilet and was flushed away...? I don't even know if it is possible for an eye-glasses arm to be flushed down a toilet but I truly have no other feasible explanation other than I flushed the arm away.

Crushing Realization: Break # 5

At this point I was pretty desperate. I called my mom and told her that I had destroyed one pair of glasses, three different times in the time-span of about 10 days. 

While I had ordered a new pair (more on that in a later post), I couldn't function with a broken, armless pair of glasses for another week. I was hoping I could beg her to meet me halfway between my home and Charleston to give me my alternate pair of glasses which I still had not found, even after unpacking my bags. 

I concluded that, even though I thought I had packed them up with me, I must have left them in my bathroom at home. But, heavens no. Sarah Grace wouldn't do something as simple as that!

Upon inquiring about my other pair of glasses, my mom said that she actually had found a lens in the front yard. 

That's right, people. A lens. Not a pair of glasses. ONE LENS. 

When she mentioned it to my dad, he said that he actually had found an eyeglasses arm in the driveway. 

It seems that the glasses must have fallen out when I was loading up my car to leave.

And where did they fall? 

Not to the side of my car. 

Not on the porch on the way out the door. 

Nope.

They fell right behind my car. 

I ran over my other pair of glasses!?!

Crushed. Them. To. Pieces.

So basically, I was SOL. 

2 pairs of glasses broken 5 times in approximately a week and a half. 

Go big or go home, I always say... but this may take that to new heights ;) 

Fortunately, I found an awesome new pair of glasses from an amazing company which I will blog about soon! 

Until then, I'm just wearing my contacts as long as possible each day and then managing with my lop-sided, one-armed, non-crushed-by-a-car glasses ;)

Updates from my Arkansas Family Wedding: Truth IS stranger than fiction

My only girl cousin - Mary Beth - got married this past weekend and it was the MOST EPIC wedding I have ever heard of. I was honored when she asked me to be one of her bridesmaids but I didn't know what all I was getting myself into ;)

To begin with, this wedding started off a little Redneck from the get-go because of 3 reasons:

1. It was a destination wedding but not to Cancun or the Bahamas like many of my friends guessed when they heard I was going. Nope, it was a destination wedding to (drum-roll please!).... Arkansas. When my friends heard this they asked "Why!?! What the heck is in Arkansas?" I tried to assure them that the destination - Hot Springs - was actually quite lovely but they were suspicious, still thinkin' it would be a little country. I told them that no, we would not be duck hunting after they got hitched and we would not be wearing camo down the aisle but they didn't quite believe me.
2. The wedding was happening on Halloween weekend so this conjured up strange ideas in my friends' minds of wedding decor even less classy than camo... something like cob-webs or skeletons hanging around. I am happy to report, though, that the wedding was very classy with ivory and purple decorations and only happened to fall on Halloween weekend; the bride and groom were not obsessed and doing some spooky-themed wedding!
3. One of the bridesmaids (the bride's sister-in-law) was pregnant... AND had a black eye. No worries - there isn't any domestic violence going on; she just slipped in the kitchen and caught her eye on the counter but, obviously, this looks bad when you have a battered and pregnant bridesmaid!

And then the Redneckyness just ratcheted itself up alllll weekend long as everything unfolded at the wedding. Below, you'll find the text updates I sent to my friends throughout the weekend that document the whole drama:

Thursday, October 27th

This first text was sent within minutes of my family picking me up. My uncle (the father of the bride) just nonchalantly said this as he shared the game-plan for our afternoon...

3:07 pm - "We gotta pick up a keg." - my Uncle Russell            

And after we had the keg loaded up, another memorable quote from my uncle...

3:32 pm -  Now we need to run to Walmart. Yea, we need to pick up a tree. Oh and we need a goat.

These were props for his speech at the wedding. He never got the goat but he found a HUGE tree (it was so tall that it bent over at the top where it hit the ceiling) because it tied into a story from Mary Beth's childhood. The whole thing was really cute, I promise! 

 

Friday, October 28th

7:20 pm - Wedding update.... Good news: my dress and shoes fit! Bad news: guess who is walking me down the aisle? The one GAY groomsman. Yep. My luck ;)

And within 5 minutes of meeting me, he tells me that he is gay, that he cheated on his boyfriend who then decided to break up with him. That, he said, was why he was drinking heavily but he hoped they''d get back together. 

However, by the end of the weekend his ex-boyfriend was already in a new relationship so the gay groomsman lost all hope and increased his drinking - so much so that he literally fell down the stairs. 

10:58 pm - So the rehearsal dinner ended with the Maid of Honor stumbling drunk calling another guest a stripper... and she apparently really IS!?! Plus, there is a prostitute present too. I wish I was making this up. I feel like I'm living in a Jerry Springer episode!?!

When the bride tried to speak with her to tell her to quit drinking and get her self together, things got physical. She cussed out the bride and threw her phone across the hotel lobby and broke something. There was shoving and screaming and crying.

Also, the pastor's wife and groom's grandmother saw ALL of this. 

The Best Man and baby-daddy to the Maid of Honor's kid (who was the ring bearer) intervened and broke up the fight. 

Saturday, October 29th -

THE WEDDING DAY!!!

12:01 am - The. Cops. Came. 
                   The Maid of Honor has been kicked out of the wedding. 
                   No lie.

6 cops (!?!) came up to our suite because of the incident in the lobby and nearly arrested the Maid of Honor. She was crying and upset AND she was in the room with the wedding gown and her bridesmaid dress. 

We were worried she might do something to destroy it so the bride's brother's girlfriend (known as "Little Bit"" because she is not even 5 feet and probably about 90 pounds) just marched in there and rescued the dresses before they could be harmed. She is now known as  "Sassy Pants" for her gutsyness.

The ex-Maid of Honor was so upset that she tried to walk home (barefooted without a phone since it broke when she threw it in the lobby) to Oklahoma from Arkansas!?! We ultimately got her back in the hotel and moved her to another room. 

Then they were concerned she might crash the wedding so my daddy was put on stand-by as potential security to stand at the doors during the wedding. However, before my daddy had to do that, the baby-daddy arranged for the ex-Maid of Honor to get a ride home after the bride decided this drama was too much. 
  
12:36 am - K, another update: more good news.... I got a promotion. Yours truly is now the Maid of Honor. I guess I have to whip up a speech now???

In addition to my promotion, the groom's sister was promoted to bridesmaid and - by some miracle - the ex-Maid of Honor's dress fit. This seemed right anyways for her - as family - to be included in the bridal party so everything worked out how we felt it should have always been.

..................................

Then we went to bed to try and rest after all of that!
And the wedding went off without a hitch :) No one cried - except for the gay groomsman. 

6:04 pm - Final (?) wedding update: I didn't trip and the speech was alright so everything went  well... EXCEPT my bouquet caught on fire. Yep. Can't wait to share ALL the details ;)

Ok. I was perhaps having too much fun with these updates at this point. I admit, that one was a bit misleading. My bouquet really did catch on fire but not as I was walking down the aisle. Instead, it happened while we were all sitting down for dinner at the reception. The bride said,  "Sarah! Your bouquet is burning!" and sure enough, the candle below the vase it was resting in began to burn the flowers. It left a 2 or 3 inch black, charred hole in the bottom of the ivory hydrangea bouquet :/
 
10:21 pm - Spoke too soon. Another update: on the way home, my cousin's car got hit by a deer. Good God almighty!!!

Fortunately, she is ok, though the car isn't. It was just ridiculous and so redneck. I mean you cannot make this stuff up!?!

As the night wound down, we ended up in the lobby where there was live music and all sorts of crazy drunk people dressed in costumes for Halloween; this all added to the bizareness of all that had happened with our wedding party. 

And the groom's mom had a bit too much to drink and ended up ordering a round of "buttery nipples" for the bride's family; now that is a kind gesture but if that isn't the most awkward drink title I've ever heard of, I don't know what is! 

Sunday, October 30th

12:18 pm - The wedding is over but I have another update that I found when helping everyone load up the cars. This was a wedding gift for the bride and groom. It is a "dictionary" book safe, complete with a pistol. I am NOT making this up, hence this photographic evidence ;)

I have no words. The picture speaks for itself. 


1:15 pm - So final (for real???) Arkansas wedding update: we had too many people and too many things for everything to fit in the truck. So, leaving for the airport, my youngest cousin - bless him - had to ride in the BACK of the truck. This picture is him packed in beside the keg in the truck-bed! THE END!!!!!!!!!!!

Yea, so... epic, right?


All in all, though, it was a beautiful wedding and they are happily married on their honeymoon right now so all is well that ends well :) 

How Our Luggage Had a Better Vacation than Us ( and other tid-bits of bad news from our Andrews Family Adventure to Nova Scotia)

It's true. Our luggage had a better vacation than we did.

We left America together with all of our luggage BUUUUUTTTTT we didn't all make it to our destination that way.

DAY 1 OF OUR VACA:

Bad News Number 1: 

We were on the tarmack for an hour and a half in Atlanta. They kicked 3 people off the plane because we were "over crowded." Thank goodness none of us were selected as one of the 3.

Bad News Number 2:

They pulled some luggage off the plane.... "some" being 30 bags and there were only 70 people on the plane!?! We thought there was a bomb or something because what looked to be a swat team of sorts came rushing out to remove the luggage. Fortunately, there was no bomb BUT they said the bags were removed because there was a weight imbalance due to too much fuel.

"Too much fuel"????? Dear God, how do you not anticipate the equivalent of 30 bags worth of extra fuel?

That sounds like poor planning to me. I was beginning to get VERY nervous about this plane taking off.
But, thank the Lord, we took off - and landed - alright and made it safely to Halifax.

Bad News Number 3: 

We made it; our bags did not.


Well, in full disclosure, I must admit that one bag did make it: mine. This, however, was for the best of the group, I swear ;) Not only did it mean my spirits would remain high but also, I am the notorious over-packer of the family. Had my Daddy's bag been the only one to arrive, we would have been screwed; he packed like 2 pairs of pants and 3 shirts for the whole week while I, on the other hand, had like 10 pairs of pants, 12 shirts, 4 jackets and lotion, band-aids, Q-tips, etc ;)

Ok, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration but you get the picture: I came prepared! So I had lots to share :)

Bad News Number 4: 

We were told that the other 3 bags would all arrive together via Detroit that night at 9:30 pm.We had reached the airport at about 4 so we figured we would just explore the downtown area and grab dinner before swinging in to get the bags once they arrived.

They. Did. Not. Arrive. At. 9:30.

There were storms in Detroit so the plane was delayed til 12:30am.

DAY 2 OF OUR VACA:

Bad News Number 5: 

We checked into a hotel for the night. The bags still had not arrived at 12:30; the flight from Detroit was canceled. Annnnnnnnnnnndddddd, it still had not arrived the next morning. The next available flight out of Detroit was not until that night so we pressed on to our final destination leaving our address for them to courier our bags to.

Bad News Number 6:

Our address we had been given (and the one we gave to the airline to send our bags to) was incorrect.

No lie.


Not only did that throw us off when we were trying to find the house we were renting for that week but we thought there was no way in heck the courier would get our bags to the right place now.

Bad News Number 7: 

My period arrived a week early. I don't say this to gross y'all out or to explain my pissy behavior with the airline (believe me, their lack of efficiency would have brought out my frustration regardless!) BUT I tell you because it is relevant later ;)

Bad News Number 8: 

When we finally reached our rented home at the correct address we had to find the key. It was left in the bbq pit... sketch. BUT it wouldn't open the door!?! It was getting stuck and wouldn't turn. We didn't know what we were going to do.

While my brother and Daddy - both engineers - were diligently working on jiggling the lock just right, all of a sudden my mom appears from inside the house and opens the door.

She had walked around the house and found an open window, managed to climb in and saved the day :)

This was a re-enactment to document mom's determination... nothin' a woman won't do to get to the bathroom a lil quicker ;)

Bad News Number 9:
Next, after having to wait an hour, we finally meet our land lord, big Dave. He informs us that the dishwasher definitely does not work and that the washing machine may - or may not - work. We were really counting on that washing machine to clean my mom, dad, and brother's one pair of clothes. Fortunately, it did work and we washed their outfits each night. Bless them.

Bad News Number 10: 

Big Dave also informed us about the recent coyote attack on a nearby hiking trail. When we asked what had happened he said, and I quote:

"A young woman was attacked and killed by a coyote... they're not sure what happened but they figure she was probably menstruating - somethin' like that that attracted them."

In case you've forgotten, refer back to Bad News Number 7 ;)

Oh, joy to the world. Now I was certain I'd be attacked and killed out on the trails. My family had the same thought as they quickly shot me a glance after he mentioned that; I forgot to mention that they were all well aware of my predicament because we had to make an emergency tampon trip to the grocery store!

Good and Bad News Number 11: 

Mom's bag arrived in Nova Scotia :) But not my Daddy's or my brother's :(

It seems our bags were not all together as we'd been promised.

But, as I noted, our bags had a better vacation than ours. It seems mom's had taken a trip from Detroit to New York??? However, we still did not have the bag. We were FOUR HOURS away in our rental home. They promised to fly it over first thing in the morning.

 DAY 3 OF OUR VACA:  

Bad News Number 12: 

Mom's bag was not flown out first thing in the morning which would have gotten it to us in an hour. Instead, it was sent via car which would take 4 hours AND, in case you've forgotten, refer back to Bad News Number 6: they did not have our correct address. Though we had called and given the airport the correct one, we had no way to know they had forwarded that information onto the courier.

Fortunately, though, Mom's bag did arrive by early afternoon :)

Bad News Number 13: 

Big Dave had warned us about bugs being out. We figured we're from South Carolina and have dealt with mosquitoes out the wazoo so we'd be fine.

Wrong.

Their mosquitoes are like small birds.... easily twice as big as ours.

When we saw the locals wearing these, we were worried:

We bought bug-spray or "fly lube" as the locals called it but the bugs were persistent. When we smacked at them it looked like we were mass murderers because blood would get alllllll over our hands : /

Bad News Number 13 - Part 2:

Their mosquito bites turn into huge welts so it effectively looked like I had contracted chicken pox or something! I attracted a LOT of them so I guess it just means I was really sweet ;)


Bad News Number 14: 
We finally tracked down my dad and brother's bags... in Bangor, Maine. I told you our luggage had a better vacation than us! However, we could not confirm if they made it to the Nova Scotia airport or not because we could not find the phone number to the airport they had been sent to and for some strange reason, the airport we had flown into did not have this other airport's number either.

Bad News Number 14 - Part 2:

We called 411 for information to get the airport's number... but the automated response was in French. We don't speak French. I'm sad to say my semesters of French were of no help to me so we couldn't understand it :(

DAY 4 OF OUR VACA:

The final 2 bags arrive at last!!!!!!!!!!!! 

And, though we had a lot of bad news in the beginning, our vacation was ultimately a success. 

We went on beautiful hikes: 

Saw gorgeous scenery:

 

Kayaked St. Ann's Bay: 

And even took in a little Canadian history at Fortress of Louisbourg and the Alexander Graham Bell museum.

 Me and the people of the fort after dancing "Lord Byron's Maggot" - I wish I could say I made the name up BUT I didn't

But, wouldn't you know it... 

Bad News Number 15: 

Even though my Daddy said lightning doesn't strike the same place twice, optimistic that we'd have smooth sailing all the way back to South Carolina, our flights were delayed coming home :( 

Despite 14 hours of travel back home, I'm happy to report that ALL of our bags made it back the same time we did!

And while I would NEVER recommend Delta airlines to anyone after this fiasco, I highly recommend that you visit Nova Scotia :)

An Unusual Bedtime Story... for adults

This is not Southern Belle.

And it is not Feminist.

BUT, it is funny.

And it has some foul language so this post is not PG. But that is to be expected with a title like this:

Go the F--- to Sleep

No. Lie. 

Described as "Honest, profane, and affectionate" and "Beautiful, subversive, and pants-wettingly funny" by OutisdetheBeltway.com it is a children's book... for adults. 

It is for anyone who has struggled to get a kid to go to sleep whether they were a parent, a baby-sitter, big sister or brother, grandparent, etc. I've been babysitting for 10 years now and I know I've certainly felt the frustrations this book captures.

Written by Adam Mansbach, below he does a dramatic reading from this morning's Today Show and as their website warns: 

"Watching this video may cause uncontrollable laughter. Please remove children from room before viewing, and arrange pillows on floor in case you literally fall off your chair laughing."  

ENJOY his story time here!!!

I'm sure many of us have done a little improv with expletives (at least in our head!) during story time in the wee hours of the morning but when this man finally put those words on paper in a real book, it took off! 

The Today Show reported that "Seemingly overnight, it shot up to No. 1 on the Amazon pre-order list, his publisher bumped up the release date to June 14 and the book has even been optioned for a movie! Apparently parents world-wide can relate to his simple, satirical tale."

And in case you did too, you can buy a copy here on Amazon ;) 

Now, because I have a very early day tomorrow, I must go so I can - you guessed it:

Go the f--- to sleep ;)

Southern Belle Slip-up: On Doors and Attitude

Letting the door fall in someone's face is not an action; it is an attitude. 

                                                                                      - Cindy Grosso

So I had a little slip-up recently, in addition to not posting in a long time - sorry about that; my summer job has been keeping me busy!

But, my slip-up involved doors and attitude. 

I was heading into the post office to buy stamps and some envelopes.Here is what unfolded:

An older woman was maybe a foot in front of me and then a middle-aged woman was at my heels and the three of us walked in together - all through the door in less than 30 seconds.

I was lost in my thinking, trying to tally up how many stamps I needed and what size envelopes would fit the different items I was about to mail out, etc. etc. That mental concentration was broken when I heard this:

"You coulda said thank you.  [And then louder] You coulda said thank you!"

The older woman had stopped about three feet in the door while I had veered hard to the right to complete my mission in search of those stamps and envelopes. I turned around, startled to realize she was speaking to me. She continued:

"Yes, you. You coulda said thank you. Young lady, you are so rude and ungrateful -"

I must stop to interject for y'all a little explanation. I was born and bred in South Carolina and my Mama and Daddy raised me right: I know my manners and I use them. Or I thought I did.

In confusion and embarrassment, I listened on (along with about 10 others in the store who now noticed as the older woman had raised her voice):

"Next time I'll just let the door slam in your face. Can't believe you didn't say thank you. So rude."

The poor woman who had come in behind me - and I might add did not say thank you either - stood between myself and the older woman like a deer in the headlights. Furthermore, just about the entire room was now staring at all of this unfolding.

The whole situation had AWKWARD written all over it!

But I had slipped up.

In an attempt to smooth things over gracefully, I stuttered out an "I'm sorry" and "thank you for holding the door" though my gut reaction might have involved something a little less polite ;)

Being called out like that made me feel like I had failed in my Southern Belle ways. 

I had not realized she had really gone out of her way to hold the door open or I would have said something. Ordinarily, when anyone lingers to hold open a door or steps aside and lets me enter first or something a little more obvious like that, I never fail to thank them.

In fact, I even do those things for others - female, male, old, young, black, white. It doesn't matter.

I always try to hold open the door for others, especially after I heard the introductory quote:

Letting the door fall in someone's face is not an action; it is an attitude. 

                                                                                 - Cindy Grosso 

Cindy Grosso from the Charleston School of Etiquette and Protocol lead an event in table manners for a leadership group I was a part of. And she was legit; she has even been on Dr. Phil ;)

But, honestly, more than the table manners, the biggest thing that struck me in her presentation was that side comment about the doors; I'm ashamed to say I can hardly remember how to use all the utensils BUT I do often remember that quote about the doors.

As she explained, if you cannot take 5 seconds out of your day to linger and hold the door for someone, that says a lot about your arrogance and self-absorption but also of how little you think of that person behind you.

It truly is an attitude more than an action to snub someone by letting a door fall in their face.

As for my situation, I just can't help but wonder what Ms. Grosso would have to say about the woman who caused the commotion with me in the post office... and her attitude.

Regardless, that moment in the post office now joins the lesson I learned at  my leadership event. Though I was going in for a completely different thing - stamps and envelopes - I came out with something unexpected  seared into my memory:

the lesson that one should ALWAYS say "thank you" when someone holds the door cause you never know what attitude you might get otherwise!

9 Words Women Use - a little humor for ya ;)

I wish I could say I wrote this but I just came across it in a chain email so Lord knows who the author is. Even though I cannot pass along the credit to the clever person who created this, it was just too funny so I had to share it with y'all.

I hope you enjoy...

9 Words Women Use

1. Fine: This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.

2. Five Minutes: If she is getting dressed, this means half an hour. "Five minutes" is only actually five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the football game before helping around the house.

3. Go Ahead: This is a dare, not permission. Don't Do It!

4. A Loud Sigh: This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing there and arguing with you about nothing. (Refer quickly to No. 9 for the meaning of "nothing.")

5. That's Okay: This is one of the most dangerous statements a woman can make to a man. "That's okay" means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.

6. Thanks: A woman is thanking you, do not question or faint. Just say "you're welcome." (I want to add a clause here - This is true, unless she says "Thanks a lot" which is PURE sarcasm and she is not thanking you at all. DO NOT say "you're welcome" - that will bring on No. 7).

7. Whatever: This is a woman's way of saying "F--- YOU!"

8. Don't worry about it, I got it: Another dangerous statement, meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking "What's wrong?" For the woman's response refer to No. 4.

9. Nothing: This is the calm before the storm. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in "Fine;" (Refer back to No. 1 for the meaning of "fine.").

As a woman, though I hate to admit it, I would have to attest to the accuracy of much of what you see above... as do all of my female friends.

So, guys: take notes!!!  ;) 

Again, disclaimer: other than some editing and adding emphasis on certain sections, I did not write the 9 Words That Women Use and I don't know who did. It can be found all over the internet by simply searching the title. Let me know if you discover the author!

Guerilla Girls - Creative Complaining

Who are they? 

According to their website, they are "feminist masked avengers in the tradition of anonymous do-gooders like Robin Hood, Wonder Woman and Batman." And, "We're a bunch of anonymous females who take the names of dead women artists as pseudonyms and appear in public wearing gorilla masks." Why? "We wear gorilla masks to focus on the issues rather than our personalities."

And I was lucky enough to see their informative and very entertaining presentation at CofC this semester. 

Their goal: 

To "expose sexism, racism and corruption in politics, art, film and pop culture." And, "use humor to convey information, provoke discussion, and show that feminists can be funny."

And how do they do that? 

"With facts, humor and outrageous visuals. We reveal the understory, the subtext, the overlooked, the and the downright unfair." 

Check out some examples below of how they use art to accuse art: 

 

And people have noticed: 

"Our work has been passed around the world by our tireless supporters. In the last few years, we’ve appeared at over 90 universities and museums, as well as in The New York Times, The Washington Post, The New Yorker, Bitch, and Artforum; on NPR, the BBC and CBC; and in many art and feminist texts."

But they do way more than posters: 

"We are authors of stickers, billboards, many, many posters and other projects... We’re part of Amnesty International’s Stop Violence Against Women Campaign in the UK; we're brainstorming with Greenpeace. In the last few years, we've unveiled anti-film industry billboards in Hollywood just in time for the Oscars, and created large scale projects for the Venice Biennale, Istanbul and Mexico City. We dissed the Museum of Modern Art at its own Feminist Futures Symposium, examined the museums of Washington DC in a full page in the Washington Post, and exhibited large-scale posters and banners in Athens, Bilbao, Montreal, Rotterdam, Sarajevo and Shanghai.

In addition, they have published several funny and interesting books: 

Confessions of The Guerrilla Girls

 

The Guerrilla Girls' Bedside Companion to the History of Western Art

 

 

  

Bitches, Bimbos and Ballbreakers: The Guerrilla Girls' Illustrated Guide to Female Stereotypes

 

 

The Guerrilla Girls' Art Museum Activity Book

 

 

And their plans for the future? 

"More creative complaining! More facts, humor and fake fur! More appearances, actions and artworks. We could be anyone; we are everywhere." 

 If you want to know more, here is a snippet from their F.A.Q. page:

How did your group get started? Why do you call yourselves Guerrillas? Why girls? Why the gorilla masks? Why the pseudonyms?

That is ancient history....you can read all about it in our interview.

 Or, just check out their whole website :) 

Doing Gender, Buying Drinks - My FIRST YouTube video :)

A Little Conversation with my Mom

Mom: What are your plans for tonight?

Me: Oh, um, I'll be going out to a couple bars.    

          NOTE: this is extremely out of the ordinary for me. 

Mom: What!?! 

Me: Yea, well I have to. 

Mom: What do you mean you have to?

Me: It's for class; I'm collecting data. 

Mom: Nice try. 

Me: No, really! It is for my Gender and Society class. 

It really was. Between you and me (and the rest of the blogsphere!), I was not simply trying to pull one over on my mom. 

The Assignment

Our group project assignment called for us to examine gender out in the field. And, believe it or not, of all people, yours truly was assigned to examine gender in a field study of a bar on a downtown Saturday night. 

Most of my peers were either intensely jealous or in disbelief. 

My parents were a little confused in how this counted as education they were paying for ;) 

And me, well... 

Mind you, before this project, I could count on one hand the times I'd been in a bar on a Saturday night. Lame, I know but a Southern Belle has to maintain her classy image and that cannot be done slamming back cold ones in a bar ;) 

Our Research

Nonetheless, I've discussed before that when a grade is involved, the NERD in me wins out ;)

So the Southern Belle in me risked my class and any chance at being cool by heading out to the bars, notebook in hand. 

I kid you not. 

So my group members and I sat there observing, scribbling notes and taking interviews. Unlike most group projects, though, our research did come complete with a Tequila Sunrise - an attempt to blend in despite the aforementioned notebook which hopefully everyone was too drunk to notice.

People did notice, however, when we returned on another night with a video camera. Strange how intoxicated people flock to be recorded... a clear indication that alcohol affects your logical reasoning ;)

Lastly, we also recorded ourselves - and I had not one drop to drink so I cannot blame alcohol on that decision. So forgive my poor acting skills but our aim was to create a satire of sorts (by doing gender wrong) based on what we discovered in our research on how to do gender in a bar scene.

Our Focus

We decided clothing was too obvious: duh, girls wear less and boys wear more. Researching that would have not been very insightful to our class or you. 

Instead, we chose to focus on the gender of drinks. 

Below, you'll find our answer via a few interesting and entertaining descriptions and interviews of what drink to buy if you want a masculine, feminine, or gender neutral drink.

I hope you like it!

Oh and if you DO like it, please pass it on. For those of you who know me (and my YouTube video obsession), you know how it would please me beyond belief for this to go viral ;) 

Then we could all drink to that - in whatever gender of drink you'd like!

I Want a Wife (It's Not What You're Thinking!)

I know it has been a while since I've posted. 

And I have been busy. 

Really Busy. 

That is why I want a wife.

It is not what you're thinking: I am not turning lesbian. 

It is more like I'm turning logical: I want a wife because my to-do list remains perpetually incomplete. I scratch one thing off but somehow 2 or 3 new tasks have appeared along with the other things that remain undone.

One month remains of my college career!?! As I try to complete homework and reading and papers, I also have to find time to do laundry, buy groceries, vacuum my room, etc. etc. etc.. This on top of classes, an internship and work. Then, of course, there are the unexpected things like having to buy a new laptop, scheduling to get my wisdom teeth removed, ordering flowers for graduation, etc. etc. etc.. Oh and trying to have a social life.

That is why I want a wife. 

As I sit here in the library after midnight attempting to study for a test at 10 am and not be overwhelmed by my never-ending to-do list, I was reminded of an essay I once read called "Why I Want a Wife" by Judy Syfers. This site describes the original publication and delivery (celebrating the 50th anniversary of the 19th amendment). 

I have included the essay in its entirety below for all of y'all  - gay, straight, male, female, single or otherwise - who, like me, WANT A WIFE ;) 

I belong to that classification of people known as wives. I am A Wife. And, not altogether incidentally, I am a mother.

Not too long ago a male friend of mine appeared on the scene fresh from a recent divorce. He had one child, who is, of course, with his ex-wife. He is obviously looking for another wife. As I thought about him while I was ironing one evening, it suddenly occurred to me that I, too, would like to have a wife. Why do I want a wife?

I would like to go back to school so that I can become economically independent, support myself, and, if need be, support those dependent upon me. I want a wife who will work and send me to school. And while I am going to school I want a wife to keep track of the children's doctor and dentist appointments. And to keep track of mine, too. I want a wife to make sure my children eat properly and are kept clean. I want a wife who will wash the children's clothes and keep them mended. I want a wife who is a good nurturant attendant to my children, who arranges for their schooling, makes sure that they have an adequate social life with their peers, takes them to the park, the zoo, etc. I want a wife who takes care of the children when they are sick, a wife who arranges to be around when the children need special care, because, of course, I cannot miss classes at school. My wife must arrange to lose time at work and not lose the job. It may mean a small cut in my wife's income from time to time, but I guess I can tolerate that. Needless to say, my wife will arrange and pay for the care of the children while my wife is working.

I want a wife who will take care of *my* physical needs. I want a wife who will keep my house clean. A wife who will pick up after me. I want a wife who will keep my clothes clean, ironed, mended, replaced when need be, and who will see to it that my personal things are kept in their proper place so I can find what I need the minute I need it. I want a wife who cooks the meals, a wife who is a *good* cook. I want a wife who will plan the menus, do the necessary grocery shopping, prepare the meals, serve them pleasantly, and then do the cleaning up while I do my studying. I want a wife who will care for me when I am sick and sympathize with my pain and loss of time from school. I want a wife to go along when our family takes a vacation so that someone can continue to care for me and my children when I need a rest and change of scene.

I want a wife who will not bother me with rambling complaints about a wife's duties. But I want a wife who will listen to me when I feel the need to explain a rather difficult point I have come across in my course of studies. And I want a wife who will type my papers for me when I have written them.

I want a wife who will take care of the details of my social life. When my wife and I are invited out by my friends, I want a wife who will take care of the babysitting arrangements. When I meet people at school that I like and want to entertain, I want a wife who will have the house clean, will prepare a special meal, serve it to me and my friends, and not interrupt when I talk about the things that interest me and my friends. I want a wife who will have arranged that the children are fed and ready for bed before my guests arrive so that the children do not bother us. I want a wife who takes care of the needs of my guests so that they feel comfortable, who makes sure that they have an ashtray, that they are passed the hors d'oeurves, that they are offered a second helping of the food, that their wine glasses are replenished when necessary, that their coffee is served to them as they like it.

And I want a wife who knows that sometimes I need a night out by myself.

I want a wife who is sensitive to my sexual needs, a wife who makes love passionately and eagerly when I feel like it, a wife who makes sure that I am satisfied. And, of course, I want a wife who will not demand sexual attention when I am not in the mood for it. I want a wife who assumes the complete responsibility for birth control, because I do not want more children. I want a wife who will remain sexually faithful to me so that I do not have to clutter up my intellectual life with jealousies. And I want a wife who understands that *my* sexual needs may entail more than strict adherence to monogamy. I must, after all, be able to relate to people as fully as possible.

If, by chance, I find another person more suitable as a wife than the wife I already have, I want the liberty to replace my present wife with another one. Naturally, I will expect a fresh, new life; my wife will take the children and be solely responsible for them so that I am left free.

When I am through with school and have a job, I want my wife to quit working and remain at home so that my wife can more fully and completely take care of a wife's duties.

My God, who *wouldn't* want a wife?

My comments are just as tongue-in-cheek as the essay but I still offer this disclaimer: I do not expect to have someone do all of that for me and nor do I think anyone else should expect all of that either. It is simply unfair to expect anyone - wife or husband - to do all of that. If everyone pulled their own weight in the home then we wouldn't have wives who end up feeling like this:

So lovingly but also logically, I say to anyone stuck in a situation like my last few weeks, overwhelmed with life's to-do lists, to the point that you want a wife like the imaginary one in the essay above, just suck it up and follow this advice ;) 

And thank the wife or mom or friend or roommate who helps out with cooking your meals, cleaning your clothes, making your doctor's appointments, etc. etc. etc.