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Elephants, Pizzas, and Bathrooms – Oh My!

23 Mar

Well people of the internet, today has certainly been interesting. Usually L is the one with the most humorous, random days … but this just might give her a run for her money/ovaries. And to think, this afternoon I was talking to L on the phone saying I didn’t know what to post about, that nothing ever happened to me. Well, let’s just start from the beginning, shall we?

As I’m talking to L on the phone, I’m walking around the Botanic Garden and decide to take a walk along the National Mall. However, I notice that there’s police cars everywhere, all streets are blocked, and there are hordes of people along the sidewalk. At first I thought there must have been a fire alarm at one of the federal buildings around, because there wasn’t any sign or anything indicating some kind of even was happening. I ask a man and his children what is going on, if there’s an emergency, and he looked at me in all seriousness and said:

“The elephants are coming.”

Umm … what? I asked him if he could clarify and he said “Oh the Circus is coming, so they’re marching the elephants down the road!” Now, I’m not a fan of circuses, but really, how was I going to turn away from seeing elephants being walked down the National Mall? So, while on the phone with L, I documented elephants being walked down the road like it was just any other day:

So, on a lunch break while talking to L, I got to witness some elephant butt. Totally random and probably the weirdest my lame archivist day could get, right?

Wrong.

My roommate S has a friend in town visiting. When I got home he warned me that my bathroom doorknob no longer works – the little metal part that locks in to the door frame is broken and only sticks out – so if you closed the door, you wouldn’t be able to get out. Simple enough to remember, right?

Wrong.

Now this all started with me wanting to write a blog in the “yummy” section about how to make pizza from scratch, which is what I did tonight. And let me tell you, it was the best pizza dough I’ve ever made. I had the water at the right temperature, the yeast frothed just like it should (ew that sounded gross) and my dough rose beautifully. I caramelized some onions to perfection, had a perfectly ripened pear and my favorite honey goat cheese. It was going to be glorious. My pizza was juuuust about done when I just haaaaaad to us the bathroom. This may be too much information, but you all might just be as weird as me and relate to this: when I have to go to the bathroom, nothing else matters. I have to go, and there is nothing that will get in my way. So without even thinking about it, I rush to the bathroom and make some room for my awesome pizza. I wash my hands and get ready to grab my pizza out of the oven. I hear the oven timer go off. I turn the door handle.

And then I remember … that the doorknob is broken. And I am now stuck in my bathroom. BALLS.

My first thought is to bang on the door as loud as I possibly can so that my upstairs neighbors will hear, since my roommate and her visiting friend went out for dinner. So I start pounding on the door yelling “HELP!” and “BATHROOM!” as loud as I can, hoping they would put all of that together. Now, while yelling help I try to sound as casual as possible because I don’t want to incite any real fear in people as I’m not in any real danger. Time goes by, my hands hurt from violently slapping the door, and I figure my neighbors can’t hear me. Meanwhile the oven timer is still going off, and all I can think about is my poor pizza. Turns out, my neighbor just thought I was building something. Ummm … how many people do you know yell “HELP!” and “BATHROOM!” as they are building things? None? I thought so.

My next plan: open my bathroom window and wait for someone to walk by – then I’ll yell for help – have them knock on my upstairs neighbor’s door so they can call my roommate to come let me out (my front door was locked, too – because really, if I’m going to be stuck in the bathroom why make it easy for someone to help get me out?). I live in a pretty happening area of DC, and my street is usually pretty busy. Usually. Tonight however, everyone decided to stay in a knit a sweater, visit their grannies, clean their lampshades, do everything else EXCEPT be outside where I need them to be. Balls. ALL I WANT IS MY PIZZA, PEOPLE!

Now I’m on to plan C, which is to do whatever I can to break the doorknob. I take a scan of the bathroom for what I think will be the most effective tool, and I come up with my bottle of conditioner, which worked for a while but after much pounding I started to break the plastic! I take another look around and spot the toilet plunger. The handle is wood, and with my beefy muscles I was able to knock the handle off shimmy the gears enough to make a grand escape!

The first thing I did upon tasting my newfound freedom: save my pizza from the 9th circle of hell that was my oven. Surprisingly, it wasn’t burnt, just very, very well done. I still ate half.

I then called my mother, who proceeded to laugh hysterically at her daughter’s misfortune.

Here’s to hoping tomorrow is a little less eventful! Although, this is just further proof that I am, in fact, Liz Lemon from 30 Rock (If you do not watch that show, stop reading this immediately and start watching it!). A friend of mine pointed out that she has never seen us in the same room together, so now I am thinking that maybe this is a Fight Club situation and I just think she’s a different person, but really we’re both Edward Norton.

-J

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