Totally Awkward Tuesday: Dream Car

I almost forgot about Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesday this week, until I passed a Ford Contour on my way home from work today and remembered this totally awkward story!

I got my first car in 1998, at the age of 21. My parents very generously offered to buy one for me. I knew I wasn't going to be able to get anything fancy, but I was at odds with my parents because I wanted something cute and impractical, while they wanted to buy me something practical and butt-ugly.

In 19 years I am going to look back on this blog post and laugh, because I'm sure I will be pushing the butt-ugly car, too.

Anyway, we did a lot (I mean a LOT) of searching that summer and we just couldn't find a car we could agree on. I made it my personal mission to find my perfect car... one my parents could agree on, too. My brother and I would drive around the area in pursuit and one day we drove by this lot with my dream (well, as high as I was financially allowed to dream) car parked out front... a 1995 green Ford Contour:

The office was closed but we got out to inspect the car and the doors were open! So we got in, checked it out and I left the lot totally smitten.

I went home and gushed about the car to my parents. When I told them where I found it they were skeptical, as they had never heard of the place before. I think my dad had to work or something the next day so my mom went with me to check out the car. When we got there my mom had this, "I'm not so sure about this" look on her face. Looking back on it, I know why.

This "dealership" was a shed on a dirt lot with 3 used cars parked out front.

But my mom was a sport. She humored me, with a hint of that very cautious and very skeptical look on her face the whole time. So we walked into the "dealership" (shed) and talked to the guy about the car. He gave us the keys and told us to take it for a test drive (*insert giddy shriek here*)!!

I was bound and determined to prove to my mom that this was a trustworthy place and it was a great car. We got in, fastened our seatbelts and I started going on and on about how cute it was, while pointing out the practical perks: "Look, mom! It has a tape deck! And it's a V6, so Dad will love it!" My mom kept saying, "I don't know, honey. I'm not sure I trust this lot. How do we know what kind of shape this car is in?" I rolled my eyes (Ugh, parents!) and put the key in the ignition with a big stupid grin on my face. I turned they key, and...

Nothing.

Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap! I pulled on the key and...

The entire ignition came out with it.

Ummmmmmmmm....

Awkward! Awkward! Awkward! I stared at the ignition in my hand, totally speechless, then looked up at my mom... who was staring at me like, "Are you serious?!?"

Seriously, folks. There is no way to recover from that. We walked in silence back to the dealership office (er, shed). My mom was classy enough not to start laughing, while I stuck my tail between my legs and moped back inside.

Well, they did fix the car and I got to test drive it a few days later. I was still in love with it (Hey, love is blind!). My parents hemmed and hawed and cautioned me, etc., but in the end it was mine.

(I think they were just ready to be done hearing me whine about wanting a Geo while they pushed for the Buicks that they just gave up.)

I am not kidding when I say I am sure I (OK, we) spent about double what the car was worth in repairs over the next 6 years. That thing was ALWAYS in the shop and it was ALWAYS really expensive to fix.

Sorry, Mom and Dad! Love you!

Totally Awkward Tuesday: Jumper Cable Drama

It's Tuesday again, folks! Time for another installment of Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesdays!

I have been traveling all week so I'm going to re-tell one of my favorite stories ever, which I told about a year ago on this blog.

One summer my friend Amanda's car battery died just a few blocks away from where I worked. Hugely pregnant, she stopped into my office and asked if I knew of any guy in the office who could give her car a jump. I was in one of those proud "We don't need a man!" modes, so I said I could help her. I pulled my car up to hers and we opened the hoods. We hooked the jumper cables up to my battery just fine but her battery was so old it was corroded and we couldn't tell which was side was positive and which was negative. So what did we do? We guessed.

Never guess.

We hooked it up and a little spark flew up, followed by a tiny sizzle of smoke. Amanda was like, "Ummmm.... Christine?" I said, running to my car, "It's fine.... Just get in your car and I'll hit the gas!"

Never listen to me.

Before we knew it there was smoke EVERYWHERE. We ran out of our cars and the plastic was literally melting off the jumper cables... including the handles (so we couldn't unhook them from the batteries)! In a panic I started running around the neighborhood knocking on doors and screaming for help. Amanda totally kept her cool (that is SO Amanda... and SO not me!). Finally the smoke died down once we turned our cars off, and we were able to pry the cables off the batteries with some old rags once they cooled down. We then realized the cables had actually burned into the side of my car (that was fun to explain when I traded it in for a new one a few years later)!

*sigh* OK, fine, I'll admit it.... We needed a man.

Happy Tuesday!

Totally Awkward Tuesday: Nice Shot!

It's Tuesday again, folks! Time for another installment of Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesdays.

I'm keeping with the sports theme this week. I honestly don't think there is a sport I have tried that I haven't failed at. This week's sport: Basketball.

Let me take you back to the summer around 4th grade when I was a proud member of the pink team. Let me first say that the #1 reason I am terrible at all sports involving a ball is I'm terrified of getting hit. #2 reason: I don't understand the rules.

So I decided to try basketball. In practice I was an OK dribbler and an OK free thrower, but if someone tried to pass me the ball I screamed and ran the other way. I mean, come on. I wasn't a great catch, so the odds of breaking a nail or getting hit in the face were way too high.

I spent the entire "season" just running up and down the court during games, and if it ever looked like someone was about to pass me the ball I looked away.

Sidenote: I think this is when I started developing my acting skills. I sure looked like I was involved in the game, but there was not a whole lot going on upstairs except, "Don't get hit with the ball, don't get hit with the ball."

So I managed to make it through every game without ever touching the ball. Impressive, huh? Until the last game, that is.

So there I was on the court, following the crowd back and forth as usual, when all of a sudden... the ball was in my hands.

OMG, OMG, OMG.... What do I do with it?

Remember reason #2 I suck at sports? I don't understand the rules. I honestly had no idea what I was supposed to do with it. I looked up. There was a basket. I was good at free throws.... I could do this! I saw Angela, the coach's daughter and the big shot star of the team, waiving her arms frantically and shouting, "Christine! Pass it to me! Pass it to me!"

Huh! Big shot. You get enough baskets. This one is mine.

I threw the ball at the basket. It hit the rim (in those days if you hit the rim you got one point). The world went slow-motion as I jumped up and down, screaming. It was my moment! The Chariots of Fire theme song played in the background as the crowd erupted and I took my dramatic bows of thanks. The coach pulled me out of the game and I sat on the bench with ants in my pants. I looked up in the stands and my mom gave me a meek wave as I beamed.

After the game I was on cloud nine. "Mom, did you see it?!? Did you see that shot?!? I scored a point, Mom! I scored a point!"

"Yes, honey. Too bad it was for the other team."

(Thanks, Mom, for that important detail.)

Totally Awkward Tuesday: "Skiing"

(I put "skiing" in quotes because I'm not sure what I do can really be called "skiing.")

It's Tuesday, folks, so it's time once again for Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesdays!

This week I'm going back to middle school again. This story does not co-star Holly, unlike my previously told junior high adventures, though she was there and had a really good time laughing at me.

I grew up in Michigan and every winter they offered downhill skiing lessons after school. We all took a bus after school to Snow Snake Mountain for our lessons. This story takes place in my second or third year of lessons, so I had graduated from the bunny hill (the "No Child Left Behind" Act was not yet in effect, thankfully, or I would still be there). There was this boy in my group I had never seen before, which was a big deal because I grew up in a small town where everyone knew everyone. This new kid was pretty cute, so I had my eye on him and was eager to impress him with my hot snowbunny moves!

It was our first day of lessons and we were at the top of the big ski hill. Our task was to maneuver in and out of some flags and then stop half-way down the hill. Cute New Boy went first and mastered them (what a hottie)!

I was up next. Cute New Boy was standing half-way down the hill looking up at us, so this was my chance! I was going to swish, swish, swish through those flags and slide right up next to him. He would say, "Nice moves," and I'd say something suave like, "Uhhhh...yeah, ummmm... *SNORT*" (Even in my fantasies I couldn't come up with anything cool for me to say).

So I started swishing. I swished right around flag #1, then flag #2.... Oh, yeah. I was on fire! I then realized I was going a little faster than I probably should have been and I flew right past flag #3... and flag #4... and flag #5....

You would think after several years of lessons I would know how to ski, right? Well, I do kind of know how to ski.... I just don't know how to stop.

I instantly hit my trusty snowplow position (which does NOT work for me, by the way.... I have never had success with that move). I just kept flying straight down the hill, arms and poles flailing, gaining more and more speed. I look up and there he is. (You know what's coming, right?) The last thing I saw was a slow-motion "Oh, *explicit*!" look on his face and then...

BAM!

Yes, I hit him. And we rolled... and rolled... all the way down the hill together.

It was the closest I would ever get to him.

Thank goodness he was a nice guy and mumbled something like, "Don't worry about it" when we got to the bottom, while I apologized over and over, completely red-faced, stumbling over myself while I searched for my other ski.

We waited together for the rest of the class at the bottom of the hill. Had I been that suave girl I always wished I could be, I could have used that time to be witty and get to know the guy so we could have one of those great "how we met" stories to tell our grandkids. But instead I just sat in the snow amongst awkward silence and prayed for a quick and painless death.

When my ski instructor got to the bottom of the hill she took my ski poles away and I was not allowed to use them again that year. She considered them to be a safety hazard when attached to my flailing arms, I guess. The rest of the class looked relieved.

I have more "ski" stories, but they all end up with me crashing into someone or something in some fashion. I think this one is my favorite so I'll spare you the others... at least for today!

Happy Tuesday!

Totally Awkward Tuesday: Llama Love

You know what they say: "A picture is worth a thousand words." So today I give you a photo instead of a story for Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesday post.

The following photo was taken on a trip to a petting zoo about a week ago, while we were on our family "mini vacation getaway." This photo's caption reads:

"Mommy, what are they doing?"

Uhhhhhh.... AWKWARD!

Uninvited Vacation Guests

We are on a mini-vacation right now. We had some points left on our timeshare that we needed to use up this year, so we traveled about four hours east of us to stay at this little condo on a lake for a couple days. It's a nice setup and Chase gets to sleep in his own room in a king-sized bed, which he thinks is so cool.

We got him all tucked under the covers Sunday night and were about to start reading bedtime stories when Brian looked up and said, "Uhhh.... What is that?" I looked up and there were two HUGE cockroaches on the ceiling, right where it connects to the wall. The ceiling was really high up and we just looked at each other like, "What are we going to do?" I mean, you can't just leave them there, tuck your baby into bed and then pray they don't attack him in the night!

Let me just say before telling the rest of this story that I am in awe at my husband's ability to go out on a limb to protect his child, when he himself is terrified of cockroaches.

Brian grabbed some balls Chase had packed, I grabbed Chase and we scooted as far from the projected landing site as possible. Brian threw several balls at the roaches with no success. He then grabbed the broom. They were too high up to get just by holding onto the broom handle, so he started throwing it up there. After the first throw I said, "Maybe we should move the lamp before you break it." With that, Brian gave it one last throw and he got them! Down they came, as did the broom... which went through the lampshade... and shattered the lightbulb.

All went dark.

Omigod. There we were, in the dark, screaming, knowing there were two huge cockroaches on the loose, and unable to run because there was broken glass all over the floor.

Chase and I were far enough away from the glass that I could get to the other lamp and turn it on. When the light came on they were nowhere to be found. Poor Brian was freaking out, but he stayed brave for his son. He did say, thinking about Chase's "Save the Pincher Bugs" movement just a few days prior, "Sorry, Chase. We're not setting these ones free." One came scurrying across the floor and Brian beat it to death repeatedly with the broom.

Hey, Chase was warned.

The other one was nowhere to be found. We decided to vacuum up the glass, thinking maybe the noise would scare it out of wherever it was hiding. We were right, but we were not fast enough and it bolted somewhere under/behind the bed. We moved mattresses and everything, but could not find it. Finally we decided we just needed to put Chase to bed. We cleaned up the mess and tucked him in.

Thank goodness he isn't old enough to know better.

Afterwards Brian felt so guilty for letting him sleep in there, saying, "I wouldn't sleep in there tonight!" But Chase actually slept great, while I flipped out every time I felt a tickle on my leg. Ignorance is bliss!

Brian did talk to management the next day and they were shocked we found lives ones, because they had just sprayed the day before. That probably explains why they were on the ceiling, escaping the deadly fumes. Hopefully the one we can't find has inhaled those fumes and is dead right now. That may help me sleep better tonight!

I am filing this story as "awkward" because after I got done typing it, Brian said, "You should save this story for your 'Totally Awkward Tuesday' post." I said, "I don't know.... Do you think it's really an awkward story?" and his wide-eyed response was an exasperated, "Well it was certainly awkward for me!"

So there you have it, folks. My Totally Awkward Tuesday post for the week, sponsored by Tova.

P.S. This is my second post of the day. Be sure to check out my previous post if you haven't already!

Totally Awkward Tuesday: The Escape Plan

Once again I am participating in The Secret Life of Tova Darling's "Totally Awkward Tuesday." Today's story also features my BFF Holly in another one of our middle school adventures (I have a feeling you're going to see her name on a lot of Tuesday posts)!

Holly and I were good girls who so longed to be bad. We had sleepovers at each other's houses every weekend and we got it into our heads that it would be fun to sneak out once. Ooh, we were so bad... but not so spur-of-the-moment! We decided we should practice first, before doing it "for real." The best criminals have well laid out plans beforehand, right? Right.

Holly lived in the country and I lived in town, so we used to walk to my house together after school and wait for maybe an hour or so until my mom got home from work. That hour gave us the perfect opportunity to practice our escape!

The biggest hurdle in sneaking out of my house was that my bedroom windows were high up on the wall, close to the ceiling. So we had to climb up on my bed to get out of them. I went first. I climbed out the window like a pro, but then discovered while hanging from the ledge that the ground was a lot further away than I had anticipated. I was too chicken to jump. So there I was, hanging by my hands from the window ledge, and Holly was standing on my bed, hanging her head out of the window above me. Got that image in your head? OK. Keep it there!

Our conversation went something like this:

Holly: Christine, just jump!
Christine: (starting to panic) I can't! It's too far!
Holly: No it's not, just jump!
Christine: (screaming) No way! I'll break my legs!
Holly: Omigod, just let go!
Christine: (screaming in terror) I can't! Help me up!
Holly: There's no way I can pull you back in! Just jump!
Christine: (screaming hysterically) Omigod, I'm seriously going to die! I don't want to die this way! I'm not ready to go! I still have so much to do on this earth!

Yeah, I was a tad dramatic in those days. (OK, I still am.)

Anyway, around this time I just happened to turn my head, and there stood our English student teacher, stopped dead in her tracks on her walk home. She looked at us like we were totally insane, and Holly and I just stared back at her, totally frozen with "What? We're not doing anything bad..." looks pasted on our faces. After what seemed like a lifetime she just turned and kept walking (back to her dorm, where I'm sure she told her roommate another one of her "you'll never guess what I saw from my middle schoolers today" stories).

Holly and I burst into hysterical laughter and I eventually let go. Turns out the ground really wasn't that far away and I did survive the fall.

At the time I thought, "Why didn't she help us?!?" But I'm sure she noticed my feet were just inches from the ground, and bless her heart... she probably didn't want to embarrass us further. What a good teacher, to let us learn that lesson on our own!

(We never did sneak out, by the way... though we continued to practice other methods!)

Totally Awkward Tuesday: Running Through Cement

I recently started reading a new blog, The Secret Life of Tova Darling. She has a fun recurring "Totally Awkward Tuesday" theme where she invites other bloggers to play along, so today I thought I would play! I have tons of totally awkward stories, so it was hard for me to decide which one to tell. Ultimately I decided on the story I have self-titled "Running Through Cement." Ready? Here goes.

Toward the end of my 8th grade year, some kids came over from the high school to recruit for the cross country team. My BFF Holly and I were bound and determined to be super involved in high school so we would magically go from totally uncool to massively popular over the course of the summer. Cross country practices started that summer so we thought it would be a good way to get "in" with the high school kids before school even started in the fall. Yeah. OK. Whatever. We signed right up (I think we were the only 8th graders who signed up, which probably should have told us something about how cool it was).

I convinced my mom I needed these ultra super dooper top-of-the-line cross country training shoes, because I was going to be a serious runner. So we went out and spent like $85 on these shoes, which at the time was unheard of. They were bright purple and green. I will never forget them.

So Holly and I showed up to our first practice (which was WAY too early in the morning for me, by the way) and we were feeling all cool in our coolest workout outfits and purple and green shoes. I had spent hours in the bathroom that morning trying to achieve that "I just threw my hair back this morning, I'm just naturally this beautiful while I work out" look. The team captain said, "Easy day today, guys.... We're going to run down to the Pump 'N Pour and back."

The Pump 'N Pour was a gas station/convenience store located about a mile away. Two miles was considered an "easy day?!?"

I'll admit it: I didn't really know what "cross country" was, and I didn't bother trying to find out. All I cared about was getting "in" with the high school kids.

Anyway, no problem! I was a dancer, I was in shape. I could do this!

I lasted one block. One block, before I thought I was having a heart attack. I motioned for Holly to go on without me. When I was almost half-way there (walking, of course) everyone else passed me on their way back.

These types of practices went on for about a week and a half before the run that ended it all for me. This was a much longer run, though I couldn't tell you how many miles. All I know is that once again I was "running" (and I use that term very loosely) by myself. I would run for a block and then spend the next three dragging my knuckles on the ground, falling over myself and gasping desperately for air.

I rounded a corner and said to myself, "OK, Christine. This is it. You are going to run, and run hard! You can do this!" I took off, blocking out the world around me. I was hitting the pavement hard and fast, when all of a sudden my run went slow motion, as I felt like I was running through quicksand.

I stopped, turned around and saw two huge footprints, at least 6" deep, in the sidewalk behind me.

I had just run through freshly laid cement (I was told later that the other runners had witnessed them actually working on the sidewalk... when they ran around it).

I looked at my footprints, then up at the house to see if there were any witnesses, and took off running faster than I had ever run in my life.

When I got back to the school Holly was waiting on the curb for me, and the team captain was with her. Most of the other runners had already gone home. When Holly saw me with dried cement shoes (yes, the $85 pair!), sporting the "splattered cement leg" look (bet ya didn't know that existed, huh?), she lost it. Thank goodness for her hysterical laughter. It was the only thing keeping me from bursting into tears. The team captain kept trying to tell me things would get easier, yadda yadda yadda. She did an amazing job of keeping her composure.

But I'm pretty sure she had a good time telling that story to all her cool high school friends afterwards, because wouldn't you know it? High school started a couple months later and I hadn't magically turned cool over the summer. In fact, I'm sure I was even less cool than I was before.

Running through cement will do that to a girl, I guess.

I hope you have enjoyed reading just one of my many life's totally awkward moments. If you want to play along, write your own "Totally Awkward Tuesday" blog post and then leave a comment on Tova's blog here with a link to yours!