accelerated, my butt

This post is a little late in coming since it happened about 5 months ago, but a friend reminded me of my utter irritation with these people just tonight. hence: a post.

I entered my psychiatric nursing class last semester with great and grand hope about what all we would be learning about and discussing. Psychotic diseases = great stories. Don't judge me. So, after a class or two, my disappointment was great when it became ever increasingly obvious that neither grand nor glorious things were going to be occurring during this 3-hour block of class. In fact, it was so grotesquely the opposite that I became quite an angry and bitter person. No surprise there. And the addition of the accelerated BSN students only added to the misery of this class.

This addition was quite unsettling at first since we are used to interacting with the same 24 people every day of every week for the past year or so. New people make us nervous and territorial. We tend to snarl and snap at strangers - especially myself since I have a slight amount of bitterness leftover from previous rejections related to the Accelerated BSN Nursing Program that will hand you a four year degree in a matter of mere months and forever change your life. Except mine. But, we have gone over this story before, so I will let in go....for now.

So...these supposed accelerated students....have to say, not so much. The second week of class our professor began to give us a few basic guidelines for clinical days. One basic rule: don't answer the phone. That's easy enough, and it makes perfect sense; you have no idea who is on the other end of that phone and you don't want to inadvertently send some poor soul into a suicidal mission because you accidentally hung up on him when you meant to transfer the line instead. That would be a bummer, and probably an ugly little blight on your clinical record. Just saying.

It was a very simple statement and most likely the easiest instruction that we will ever get in the entire nursing program. But, no. It can't be just that simple, can it? One of the accelerated students just had to raise her hand and open a discussion about THE EASIEST POSSIBLE THING IN THE WHOLE WORLD TO NOT DO.

Girl: Um, but, on my unit where I work it's kind of my job to answer the phone. So, I am not sure that I will be able to just not answer the phone if it's ringing. So, if I were to answer the phone, what should I say?

How bout this: Just don't answer the phone. Pretty sure my 4 year old niece would be able to handle this one just fine. She just wouldn't answer the phone, and accomplish this by not answering the phone. And, one more thing: you are dumb and therefore, not accelerated. I am demoting you to Brown Mackie status. For shame.

dating 101: there's never an appropriate time to say that

So last year I went out with this guy a few times. We had "the great date." For all of you non-daters out there - this is the ever elusive date. The kind of date that lasts for at least 6 hours but it feels like you just walked out your front door. The kind where the awkward silences are slim to none and the witty banter and casual flirting are abundant and well placed to create "that feeling." For girls, I think we may get this feeling about once every 3 or 4 years; boys seems to experience this every time they turn a corner...or blink. But, if you are like me, and I know lots of chickies out there that are...it's a rare and beautiful thing to get excited about a boy.

Anyhoo. We went out a few times. Things were going well. And then things kind of blew apart in a rather quick and dirty fashion that is not uncommon in my life. You get over it. However, that is not what this lesson is about.

Let me set the scene for you. We are watching tv at his place. There has been fun and flirting all night. We start to do a little kissing. And this is what comes out of his mouth...
"Ya know, if you got a dvd or something you could really flatten out your abs."

So I slapped him. Well, I wish I had slapped him. I am about 99.99% sure that a statement like that deserves a hearty, well-placed, open-handed slap right across a boy's kisser. But, I think I was in shock. So, I didn't really say much of anything. (I know! Such a waste of an opportunity to let the jack*ss really have it. sigh.) And then I got to thinking of a time when a statement such as that would be considered appropriate. Here's the one and only scenario that I came up with

If we had been together for many many many years...
and we were at the gym...
and I specifically asked...
and really meant it...
then it would be appropriate; then and only then. No exceptions on this one. Not even a hint of one. I'm sorry; you're dumb. And I'm fabulous.

blessings....I'm counting 'em

I realize that counting one's blessings is usually reserved for the Thanksgiving holiday of which we just celebrated. However, I am a little bit of a rebel and don't like to do things just because I am "supposed to." (want to add an "amen" in there, mom?) I am thankful for a lot of things, but I will express it in my own time, thank you very much, and not because the calendar is making me. So, I thought that since the holiday of thanks has safely passed, I would take a page out of my friend's blogging repertoire and make a list.

I am full of thanks for...

1. a rockin' brother-in-law and sister that let me live with them for free just because they can. this still amazes me. especially since they thought it was only going to be about 2.5 years that has since bloated into a minimum of 3.5 to possibly 5 years. and they still haven't mentioned kicking me out or kicking me over to mom and dad's.

2. a job that allows me to change my hours every other month, work nights/evenings/weekends or whatever combination that I need to in order to fit everything in; gives me scholarship money every semester; provides affordable insurance; and even gives me vacation time (which takes forever and a day to build up....but my sister reminds me that I should be grateful that I get any vacation time at all since I work part-time. humph.).

3. classmates that I have come to thoroughly enjoy and appreciate. (and I was pretty sure that I was going to have to kill most of them before we ever got close to graduating.) thank goodness most of them think my cynicism is witty.

4. a niece and nephew that I get to see almost every day. (ok....sometimes I don't think this is a blessing when it's play date morning and I am trying to sleep right below a game of "let's-see-how-many-times-in-a-row-we-can-jump-off-the-bed-and-scream-at-each-other-cause-it-will-be-so-much-fun." but, 98% of the time it's kind of an awesome deal. i mean, who can resist two stinkin' adorable kids that cheer and clap and run to meet you nearly every time that you walk up the stairs? yeah, it's that awesome. no aunt could ask for more.

5. new friends and old friends. so, no, I don't have very many friends. I probably wouldn't even need to use my toes to count them all, but I think that's okay. I can keep track of these friends and make time for them and make a friendship that is actually worth something. quality over quantity...and even that takes a lot of effort and work sometimes. so, I am thankful for friends that still want to be a part of my life even when we haven't had a night to hang out since sometime last summer.

6. bad dates. yes, that's what I said. because....even though this kind of blows for me and the relationship side of my life....it provides a good amount of fodder for story telling (see previous posts). and any one that knows me at all, knows that I appreciate a good story, especially if it's mine, and in spite of the fact that it's usually at my own expense. entertainment value is worth a lot in my book. so....I should also be grateful that God gave me a pretty solid sense of humor...

7. going back to school. this has been as much of a curse as a blessing at times. I should have been done and working as of this past May. However, that isn't the way my life works most of the time. so, I will be seeing two more Mays come before that BSN is in my hand. I am okay with that now (took me a while to get here, for sure) because the more I learn and progress in this program, the more I realize that not only am I in the exact profession that I should be in, but I am in the exact program, with fantastic professors, great classmates, and a huge support system. I am precisely where I am supposed to be at this time, and that feels pretty good when I have my "thinking clearly hat" on (it does get lost from time to time though).

there are more, but those are the biggies in my life at the moment. I will get back to posting the usual fare of general wittiness (ha! yeah, I know...) in the near future. I've been busy!!!

dating 101: if you don't let me out, I swear I'll scream

everyone once in a while, okay more like every other month or so, one of my friends or co-workers decides that it's a great plan to set me up with someone. I usually go along with it because 1) it's something to do on friday night 2)it's a usually a free dinner/movie/and sometimes even dessert, and 3) I am always looking for a good story :) (ok, I am a little evil sometimes, but it's just for the entertainment of those around me. kind of like britney spears but with all of my clothes on, no babies, and no marriages...or divorces. ok, so not like britney at all, but whatever.)

so, this time one of the teachers that I used to work with decided to set me up with a buddy of his. I do believe his last name was "pancake." this was unacceptable. abbey pancake? um, no. I think not. but, anyways we met for dinner and began the usual dance.

dinner was awkward. evidently it was intentionally so. he stated afterward that he likes to create awkward situation on purpose "just to see how people respond." and part of me gets this - the whole "shock value" of certain statements I throw out there from time to time (this usually makes my sister laugh and my mom give me that look that says "I raised you better than that, young lady." and she did - I am just ornery like that.). but, really, if you are trying to put your best self out there on a first date...I'm thinking maybe intentionally awkwardizing every conversation isn't the way to go. but, hey, what do I know.

so after the unending awkwardness of dinner, the date was over. we get back to his car to drive the 10 minutes back to his house so I can jump into my car and make my escape. however, he thought this would be a great time - with me being a captive audience and all - to share a special song that was near and dear to his heart. he began to sift through a few burned cds looking for something in particular. and then I realize that this guy has about 25 cds...all burned...all without any markings or indication of what may be on them. awesome. and then the search really got started. he was popping cds in and out of the player like a man possessed. skipping through to the first few notes of every song...skip, skip, skip, skip, eject, insert, skip, skip, nope, that's not it, nope, nope, maybe this one, nope, skip, skip, ugh no, nope...and on and on until...we passed his house and my car. he's still searching for the song that has changed his life and my face is smashed up against the window as my car goes flying past. i thought about making a jump for it, but skid marks are rather unattractive on a girl and I scar easily.

about 20 minutes later....I am not making this up, people....20 minutes...he finally finds the song that will end the night on a perfect note: howie day, collide. seriously? pretty sure we could have found that on the top 40 station in about 4.5 seconds. and then...he starts to quote the song to me as it's playing....

Even the best fall down sometimes (looking into my eyes)
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme (nodding his head in agreement)
Out of the doubt that fills my mind (reaching out for...something)
I somehow find
You and I collide (looking at me...expecting...tears, affirmation, understanding...?)

I was at a loss. again. talk about awkward. is this a song for me? for you? about us? what the heck? and why are you talking the song at me? that's weird. no one does that. stop. stop now. please let me out of your car. you are starting to scare me. i have mace. ok, actually it's pepper spray, but, it's the pepper spray for bears. big, black, angry bears. so, I am pretty sure that it'll sting. and I have a whole can of it, and I am pretty sure I can get ya good since you are sitting like 2 feet away from me.

so, I did eventually get back to my car that night....although it did take about 35 minutes longer than it should have. and I was starting to panic a little.

note to the men out there---if you are going to hold a girl hostage in your car to listen to a "life-changing song," it better be good. howie day does not cut it. please, people.

my towels are molting

so i had a lovely little gift card for tj maxx, and i decided to purchase some nice new towels for my bathroom. good towels are the best thing ever if they are big and soft and envelope your whole body all at the same time. so i was pretty jazzed when i found exactly what i was looking for. black label hotel towels...oooo, yeah, i was excited. so, i purchased them and a few other things with my gift card and $14.97 in cash (this is important for later, so just file it away).

obviously, the first thing you do with new towels is wash them. so, i did. and an elephant-sized wad of lint left in the dryer was the result. it was kind of impressive. and then the using of the best towels ever commenced. and i was excited. i took a bath just so i could use them right away. i'm weird like that though, so just let it go.

and after i dried off with my brand new black label hotel towels, i rather resembled that elephant sized wad of lint in the dryer. i was covered in brown lint. it wasn't attractive. and then you are faced with a dilemma: you are wet and covered in lint, but in order to dry off, you just add more lint and smear it around all over your body. sexy, huh? yeah, i know. i get that a lot.

i decided to deal with the lint for a few days and see if it would just kind of magically work its way out. and it did. kind of. after a few days my bathroom was infiltrated with brown lint. it was everywhere. brown dust bunnies of lint on the floor, fine mist of lint covering all surfaces, big pilly balls of lint stuck to my shower walls and bath tub. it. was. gross. and you would think with all that lint working its way out of the towels and into everything else...the towels would be in a much better lint-less situation. and you would be wrong. i think the lint was actually multiplying. like rabbits. big nasty linty rabbits.

so, i washed them again. and again. and dried them like a maniac. i emptied the lint trap every 15 minutes. every 15 minutes. that's how badly i wanted these towels to be the most amazing thing that i ever wrapped around my body (you can insert your own slightly off-color yet quite humorous little innuendo here. hey, my mom reads this stuff.). even after three heavy duty washings and brutal drying sessions with great dane-sized amounts of lint removed every 15 minutes, my towels continued to molt. fantastic.

i had to take them back, and i was sad about it. but, i called to make sure they would take them back without a problem. i mean, there shouldn't be a problem because the essence of a towel is to dry things when they are wet, and if your drying leads directly to needing to wash off....then your essence is ruined and your towel is useless. i had essence-less towels, and i wanted my money back. and the manager said it was fine. but, she didn't seem to completely get it. i mean, my towels are molting. like they are diseased or something. it's a big deal, and you, as a manager, should be concerned. just saying.

so i load them up the next day and plop them on the counter. no problem. sure, they would love to give me my money back *smirk*. so, i very nicely, like a young well-mannered woman, mentioned that i want my cash back first. the $14.97 (see, told ya it was important) that i paid out of my pocket....i want that back. it's mine. i want it. and then the cashier gets this look on her face...like the "oh-no-this-is-going-to-be-a-problem-and-she-is-going-to-be-pissed" look. and she was correct. i was pissed.

cashier: um, yeah. we can't do that.

me: why? i want my cash back. you have my receipt. i want my cash.

cashier: i have to put the first $50 back on the gift card, and then i can give you the remaining $1.57 in cash.

me: um. no. i want my cash first.

cashier: let me call a manager.

me: good plan.

cashier: (paging the manager, looking really nervous and worried like i was going to strangle her with my molting towels if she looked at me cross-eyed. i'm not that temperamental. i mean, i might think about it, but that doesn't mean that i would actually do it. please, people.)

manager: yeah, we can't do that.

me: why? i want my cash back. it's mine.

manager: it's corporate policy; we have to put the full amount on the gift card first.

me: well, your policy is wrong. i've worked retail for years (this is mostly true, i swear), and you always give people their cash back first. other wise, it's kind of like you are stealing from me, you dirty rotten thief.

manager: i can give you $1.57 in cash.

me: so, what, i can go buy a coke??!! gee, thanks. give me my cash back!!! (at this point i think my eyes might have been bulging out of my head a little bit.)

manager: we let you return the towels without tags.

me: they were defective!!! you have to take them back; the essence of the towels is missing!!! (and now i am growling like a troll who just wants their $14.97 back)

manager: cugh (you know, that cat-hair ball kind of sound only valley girls and 13 years olds make). we are discount store.

me: (now i am near a fatal myocardial infarction because i wanted to kill her so very much at that moment). discount does not equal defective! the towels still have to work!! they are towels!!! the function is pretty basic!!!!

manager: i can give you a $1.57 in cash.

and then---i had a moment of clarity---and realized that i was dealing with a complete a total moron. there was no chance i was getting my cash back from the dirty rotten thief. so, i snatched my gift card for $51.97 off the counter and stormed out. i didn't even sign my name on the return slip. so there. i'm such a rebel.

so now i have no towels (well, i have old ones. i don't run around naked trying to dry off. please, people.). and i have a gift card that i cannot use. cause let's face it, i'm not going back into that store after i roared and screamed and yelled like a was being taken over by aliens. it wasn't quite as bad as the one time my sister and i yelled at each other until my head almost popped off of my shoulders and my face was the color of a tomato (aww...special bonding moments), but it definitely wasn't my best side. my mom was not proud, and she didn't even crack a smile when i was relaying how terrible my life was and how i was a victim of injustice and how tj maxx stole from me. she was not amused (sorry mom!). but, really, she should be used to it. and it's probably even her fault some how. we can always blame mom, right? isn't that the deal. you love me unconditionally, and i blame you for everything wrong in my life. good deal. i'm in. (love you mom!)

dating 101: don't order the spicy stuff

ok, so time for another dating lesson, courtesy of abbey. you're welcome. i feel a little bit bad about this post because this guy was really sweet and was trying really hard. but, this is the job, so here goes....

once again: blind date from a certain online site. yet again: we met down town, ironically at the same restaurant as the previous dating 101 lesson (maybe that should have been my first clue). this time i was smart, though -- i brought reinforcements in the form of my good friends amy and curtis (see...progress).

first thing i saw was the cowboy boots. i know, right? (side note: i have nothing against cowboy boots. i come from farm folk. i get it. but, you are in indy. cowboy boots are a no-no. cowboy boots on a first date, with a stranger, in down town indy -- triple no-no. just saying.) but, i let the boots slide (and then made a mental note to change that habit in the future if need be).

so kevin and i and amy and curtis get settled in our oh-so-cozy little booth (awww), and start to look at the menus. it's rather obvious at this point that sweet kevin is very nervous. every movement, every sentence is strained with nerves, and i was starting to feel bad for the guy. i mean, he was starting to sweat a little, that's how stressed this guy was. and being the oh-so-smooth socialite that i am (ha!), i was trying to help sooth his nerves as best i could -- easy conversation, lots of smiles, nodding the head encouragingly, you know the drill. it wasn't working. at all.

and then the food came. and poor sweet kevin had inadvertently ordered something a little spicy. bad plan. very, very bad plan. the little beads of sweat that had started from nerves became huge rolling balls of sweat dripping down his face. the linen napkin did little to help even though he was mopping up like he just finished a marathon. there was no stopping the amount of sweat pouring from his glands. it was amazing. pro athletes don't produce this much sweat during an entire basketball game--including a double overtime. and, i know he was embarrassed (duh), because he even excused himself to go wash his face and start fresh again. i got him a new napkin (cause i'm thoughtful like that). but there was no fixing this flood. before he even planted his boots back under the table, there were great rivers running down his face again. my heart did go out to poor sweet kevin, but i couldn't help but be a little amused by the whole production anyways. i thought a second date would be a great chance for a do-over.

unfortunately (i feel like this is a strong theme in my blogs...unfortunately...), a literal do-over is exactly what i got. i invited him over to amy and curtis's for a very bland, even slightly boring dinner--steak, broccoli, potatoes--no spice in sight, not even pepper, nada spice-o.

perfect.

wrong.

we no sooner finished a short blessing for the spice-less dinner, than the flood gates opened. again. only this time, there was no linen napkin. not good. and poor sweet kevin, as he was furiously mopping up, ended up with little bits of paper napkin all over his face. it's hard to take someone seriously when they have little pieces of paper napkin stuck all over their forehead. i could not stop staring (it was fascinating in a slightly horrible and definitely embarrassing kind of way.). amy and i were trading little furtive looks trying to figure out how exactly to fix this little situation without further humiliating poor sweet kevin. but, he got up to wash his face again (maybe a dinner time ritual? maybe it's cultural. yeah, that's it. culture thing.) and came back little-bits-of-napkin less. and that was the end of me and kevin. and, no, i did not ditch him just because of the sweating thing. i'm not that shallow. at least not all of the time. there were extenuating circumstances which i will touch upon in another dating 101 lesson in the future. (i know you are excited. you should be.)

so, i was wondering as to what the over-sweating situation was caused by. and i came up with a list. (i know you are excited again.)

1. he's allergic to any and all food. this would be a bummer. food is important. especially cheese. (i *heart* cheese)

2. i made him incredibly nervous because i am incredibly hot and amazing and awesome and my mere presence caused something akin to hyperventilation which presented itself through massively hyperactive sweat glands. i have that affect on men all the time. it's my cross. sigh. (i'm pretty sure this is the real reason.)

3. he was too hot. temperature-wise, folks. (pretty sure that's not the case (how dull would that be), but i'm just presenting options here, people. (it's called being thorough.))

4. he had a thyroid problem. (definite possibility) (hey...i'm not making fun. thyroids are serious. i have one, and it doesn't work right either. so, some might even call me an expert on the whole thyroid thing.)

5. he was allergic to me. like i was a long-haired dog or some evil breed of cat (which would be all breeds of cats. just saying.). but, i don't appreciated being likened to a dog, so this one obviously can't be it. please.

personally, i'm sticking with option 2, but feel free to believe what you like. (choose number 2. it's the best one.) and if poor sweet kevin ever reads this, i'm not judging you because you were sweaty or because you wore cowboy boots (even though that was much harder to do). i'm just trying to write a blog here, and possibly help all mankind in the process. kind of like mother teresa. actually, exactly like mother teresa. you're welcome.

milkshakes, hair buns, and karma

so college was rough. i won't really get into the whole nitty gritty of the whole mess, just trust me on this one. and even though i see myself as just barely surviving college and managing to get out with wounds that have since scarred over, there is at least one thing that i found in college that makes the entire experience (at least the first 2.5 years) completely worth the trauma and messes of my own making. her name is caron. and by some miracle direct from God, we have managed to stay friends for the last several years with only a few, brief weekends together scattered throughout. i love this girl.

however...when caron and i are together, we seem to create a magnet for disaster (this is usually a pretty big magnet). luckily, we both have an outstanding sense of humor (thank you very much), so a mess turns into a story (that's what this is) and frustration changes to falling into a heap in the middle of nowhere (ie: cedarville university) and laughing until you think you might pass out from lack of oxygen. it's usually that awesome.

so, it was a week night and we were studying like good little college girls (happy, dad?) and when there was studying, a break inevitably followed, and usually this break required chocolate of some variety. this night was no exception...except (haha)...that we decided a milkshake was in order. and since our college was located in a remote cornfield in the south western part of ohio (no one lives in ohio on purpose...it just kind of happens to you), we had to drive a minimum of 25 minutes to get to the closest milkshake. but chocolate is worth driving that far and then some, so it wasn't really a deterrent at the time. so caron and i hopped in my car and off we went. we had a good couple of hours before curfew -- plenty of time(yes, there was a curfew. yes, it did suck. no, i didn't sneak around curfew--usually. (i swear, mom)).

just for the record -- as we were driving through the back-country-corn-lined-desolate-murder's -best-friend roads of ohio, i told caron that we needed to get gas before we came back. (i told her--therefore, it becomes her responsibility to remind me to put gas in the tank. her job. not my fault. her fault.) betcha can't guess where this is going...

so we get to steak 'n' shake, get our delicious, well-worth -the-25 minute-drive milkshakes, and chill out for a little while. and, it must have been "bun night" there, because everyone and their brother had a bun on their head (not the bread bun, the hair roll bun...tracking now? yeah.) and, being the person that my mother raised me to be (maybe in spite of how my mother raised me...yeah, that's probably closer to reality.), caron and i had to sit there and poke fun of all the people with buns on their heads. it was entertaining. so entertaining, in fact, that we just hopped right back in my car and zipped on our way home so as not to miss curfew (cause we were such good little christian college students and not at all influenced by the $15 fine for being late) without a thought about my nearly empty gas tank. make that my completely empty gas tank.

we must have been running on fumes at that point, because right about the time we made one more turn into the depths of corn and side-road ditches, my gas pedal stopped working. and we were confused. that's how distracted we were about the hair buns. so i turned to caron and said something stupid, like, "hey, my gas pedal isn't working. weird." it took us about 10 seconds of coasting to a stop to realize just how dumb we were (or caron was, because it was her fault. i told her we needed gas.) i think that is what people might call karma. because you shouldn't make fun of people wearing buns in their hair, or even whole groups of people wearing buns and drinking milkshakes all together. it's not nice. and then you run out of gas in the middle of corn hell.

so there we were. crap. and being the strong, independent women that we were, we decided to call a boy for help (never mind that he was cute and i might have been slightly stalking him for the better part of the year). slight problem: we had no idea what road we were on. and finding out what road required actually getting out of the car in the middle of the now-pitch-black-back-country-corn-lined-desolate-murder's -best-friend roads of ohio. we needed a weapon, just in case we stumbled upon one of those corn hell murders, ya know. the logical choice for a weapon was the ice scraper. those bristles were pretty rough, and i was pretty sure i could leave a decent scratch on a murderer. unfortunately for caron, there was only one. so, she got the little scraper that was left over (if you can't remember to tell your friend to put gas in the tank, which is your job, then all you get is a 6 inch piece of plastic to defend yourself against murderers hiding in the corn. sorry. next time, you'll remember your job. (love you, caron!)).

armed with our ice scrapers we started to walk back towards the last turn to find the street sign so that the boy could actually find us and rescue us. we got within about 10 feet of the sign---our saving grace---when the murderer jumped out from behind the barn and ran at break-neck speed straight at us. and by murderer, i mean horse. now, it was really dark and creepy and quiet and scary in the middle of corn fields in the middle of the night, so it's not caron's fault that she dropped her 6 inch piece of plastic, screamed, turned around, and ran down the middle of the road....and then tripped over her own shoe and crumpled to the pavement...about 2 feet from where she started (this is one reason why i love caron. she can fall over anything, anywhere, anytime. (including the bushes outside of history lecture in front of pretty much every freshman college student. picture legs flailing, book bag flying through the air, bushes getting squashed. it was awesome.)).

so...caron was in the middle of the road, in a pile, without her weapon, with a murderer horse staring her down from behind his fence. so i did what any friend would do after her friend had a traumatic brush with a murderer horse--i laughed my ass off (sorry mom!). i laughed so hard that i had to join caron in her pile in the middle of the road. and there we sat for a good 10 minutes before we managed to crawl back to my car.

and then the cop showed up. and being the ever-helpful cop-type person that he was, he asked us if we were okay, nodded his head, and then left. awesome. so glad i pay taxes.

so, we waited for the boy to show up (which took close to a year, i think). and while we waited we sang songs. seriously. (hey, we went to a christian college in the middle of corn hell. entertainment was scarce. we made our own. no alcohol needed.) so we sang and waited and laughed about the hair buns some more (we didn't learn very quickly).

the boy finally showed up with approximately 1.2 gallons of gas and dumped it in the tank. and---the car didn't start. shocking, with that much gas?! really?! (did i mention that we might have shoved my car part way into a ditch in an effort to get it out of the middle of the road? and it might have been slightly nose-down into the ditch? hey--those back-country-corn-lined-desolate-murder's -best-friend roads of ohio can get busy at night, and i didn't want to take any chances *self-deprecating smirk*). so, now we had the boy and the gas, but not enough gas to actually reach the part of the car it needed to in order for the car to start and take us safely away from the murderer horse. bummer.

right about then God must have forgiven us for the hair bun jokes, cause a truck -- a tow truck, complete with two hillbillies and a hill-jack -- stopped and yanked my car out of the ditch and back on the road. and then the 1.2 gallons of gas was just enough to get us back to the closest gas station (back where the milkshakes were; the place where caron didn't do her job and got us into the mess in the first place (love you, caron!)).

and then we drove back to campus...three hours late for curfew (and with another reason to talk to the cute boy that i wasn't really stalking). but, that milkshake was totally worth it. pretty sure i would do it again if i got a milkshake out of it (and maybe a good hair bun joke or two).