You know those drivers that just completely drive you up the wall? [Hopefully not literally. Though, sometimes, yes literally.] They cut you off, stubbornly ignore you when you attempt to get over, ride your tail like there are hell hounds on their heels [that was a nice alliteration:)], absurdly misuse or completely disregard their blinker, and the list could go on and on. People seem to discover new ways to spike the inner road rager in me every day! It would be impressive if it wasn't so infuriating..... I digress. I was driving home from work on Foothill, rocking out to some Coldplay, when I decided I needed to switch lanes [so I wasn't stuck behind someone who could potentially bring out the worst in me]. Somehow in the switch I sort of zoned out my surroundings and found myself running an extremely red light, along with the car right next to me. I was feeling a little panicky, scanning my rear view mirror for any signs of flashing lights following me. I rationalized that at least the person next to me ran it, as well! We were equally idiots! Then I glanced over and noticed that the person in that car was talking on their cell phone. They were driving and being distracted by an actual device. I was being distracted by my brain?? Unfortunately, this isn't uncommon. I frequently space what I'm doing while I'm driving, and rarely from using a cell phone or having someone else in the car distracting me. In fact, I think I focus better with those things going on. I am that driver you hate. The driver that I hate. I'm sorry. I can't promise that it will ever change. I can probably promise that it won't not ever change? [I also kind of a little bit enjoy being able to yell and vent so uninhibitedly. It's quite liberating for someone as passive as I.]
Also, this happens to me daily......
At work today, I was talking to one of the nurses and I can't quite recall what we were even talking about [I get a little overly excited about being involved in a conversation with a new person], but she kept describing situations to me and my overzealous self kept trying to guess [out loud] what the end of her sentences would be [like I really understood the conversation and wanted to show her that I totally got it by finishing her sandwiches....I mean, sentences.....]. I guessed wrong every. Single. Time. You'd think I 'd give up on the guessing game after 2 or 3 wrong guesses, but no! Apparently, I like proving to myself that just when I think I can't get anymore awkward.... I do. My co-worker kept shooting me increasingly weirded-out looks with each failed attempt at conversation. Sigh. Maybe next week I'll take another shot at normal conversation.....
........or perhaps I'll stick to making friends through my mad dance skillzzz. Yeah, I think that's the better choice.
Lastly [for today], I got a big zit on one of my cheeks. One of those huge, deep, cystic types. Of course, I made it worse than it needed to be and pretty soon it took up about half of my cheek. I endeavored to cover it up with layer upon layer of makeup, but that just ended up making it worse, of course. As I was driving to work, I was trying to come up with what I would say should someone [tactlessly] ask me what had happened to my face. My first thought was a flat iron burn, but I quickly ruled that out because I work on a burn unit and they would know it was a lie. I couldn't think up anything else, so I just hoped that no one would be foolish enough to ask me about it. Most of the shift flew by with no one mentioning it, so I started to think I was in the clear and could just pack up, go home, and by the time I came back, it would be gone!
Alas, it was not to be. One of my coworkers stopped at my desk to talk to me and promptly said, in a horror struck voice, "What happened to your face?!" [It was a guy, of course. Girls know better than to ask about such things.] I panicked [because that's what I do] and said it was a curling iron burn [because when I curl my hair, sometimes the curling iron falls out of my hands and rests on my face and burns an almost perfect circle, while I don't do anything to stop it....yeah, that makes sense.]
Him: "Wow, that looks pretty bad...."
Me: "I put make-up on it, so it looks worse than it actually is."
Him: "You really shouldn't put make-up on that, it needs some Bacitracin."
Me: "Oh, really? Yeah, maybe I'll put some on it later..." [I awkwardly trail off and look for something at my desk to make me look busy *picks up phone* "Hello??" ....Him: "I didn't hear it ring..."]
Needless to say, we avoid conversing with each other now. But at least he doesn't know it wasn't a burn [because that's all that matters, right? ;)]
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