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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

Another Pirate Story

16 Mar

When L mentioned making a blog for the three of us, I didn’t think she was serious. I mean, blogs are a dime a dozen now and I don’t always see the point in them. Then I read L’s first post and I soon realized what this blog could offer: stories about Pirate, L’s father. Pirate is probably one of the nicest, most caring fathers I have ever met – and he’s also probably the most hilarious.

Before meeting him, I had always heard Pirate stories from L and didn’t think such a person could actually exist. Turns out, they can. The first time I met Pirate, he was not at all what I expected. When you only hear a person referred to as a pirate, it’s hard to imagine a swashbuckling, eye patched fellow. Pirate looks like your ordinary hockey loving father of four, but once you get to know him, you quickly realize he’s unlike any other person you’ve met. For example, L is completely out of the loop on pop music – and to be fair, I am as well. But as soon as we got in to Pirate’s car, he started speak-singing “Don’t Trust Me” by 3OH!3. Now, I will admit I had to look up what song that was because I didn’t know – but just imagine a 40 something year old father saying in a monotone voice “hush girl, shut – your – lips.” A and I about died laughing, and L just rolled her eyes.

The reason we were in the car is that we were about to go water tubing on a lake in Michigan. I had never been water tubing before and was excited, but also a little nervous because I don’t really know how to swim. I let L and her brothers go first, and then decided to go on the tube with L. Apparently no one gave the memo to Pirate that I have a fear of water, because as soon as he took off our tube hit a HUGE wake and my little 4’10” body flew off the tube, SPIRALED in the air and landed smack on the water. Most fathers might be worried that they had just killed their daughter’s friend, but not Pirate. Sure that I was fine, he could only exclaim how impressed he was with how high he had made me fly off the water tube! That was all I heard about the rest of the time I was visiting.

Cut to graduation, almost a year later. L and I decide our families should have a joint post-graduation dinner. We’re outside a nice, fancy restaurant and the first thing Pirate says to my mother is this:

Pirate: “Hello, I’m D – I almost drowned your daughter last year!”

My mother: “Oh ….”

Pirate: “Her little body just FLEW off that tube!”

My mother: “Ohh … my! You know she doesn’t know how to swim.”

Pirate: “I think she said that, but she’s tough. Tiny and resilient. Let’s get a beer!”

My mother: “I don’t drink.”

Don’t worry, by the end of the dinner they were almost as good of friends as L, A and I and now every time I talk to anyone in my family they all ask about Pirate.

Should you ever get the chance, always let Pirate take you out water tubing, it’s a lot of fun and you get a lot of funny/embarrassing pictures like this one:

We're both trying to hold on, but about to fail miserably and fly in to the air

But, you also get really nice ones like this:

That’s enough Pirate talk for one day, next time I’ll try and think of a more creative post 🙂

-J