Sorry Carl :(

So one of my summer jobs was working a lottery machine last summer. I worked a cash register many times before, so how hard could it be? The behind the scenes lottery comission (?) is constantly changing the games, prize totals, etc. so it is more tricky than meets the eye. People would try to impress me by telling me how many times they hit on a certain number, asking me to pick their lotto numbers (I usually went for trip 0's), and bragging about how often they play. To no avail, I was not impressed, but more fascinated at this routine incorporated into the lives of these people.

One particular man, Carl, came in everyday to play his numbers, and his wife, Marilyn's. Same routine, buy 3 packs of cigarettes, play his numbers, and pick up hers (she called them in early each morning, to ensure her hubby wouldn't forget). I guess I had been away for a few days and no one told me the biz at the store because..

Carl walked in looking tired and disheveled, however, he wasn't the type of guy you would ask, "What's wrong?" I sold him his cigarettes, and he made his way to the lottery machine. Once he was done playing his numbers, I hurriedly looked through the box where Marilyn's numbers were kept. "Carl, I can't find Marilyn's numbers in here, I'll keep looking." Cmon numbers, where are you?! I could feel Carl staring me down as the box was basically empty, I thought somehow, they'll appear.
"Her numbers aren't in there because, SHE DIED!" Carl screamed. Marilyn had passed away over the weekend, and her I am looking for her numbers. Carl then proceeded to cry as I practically peed my pants behind the counter. I felt so bad! How was I supposed to know? I was completing my lottery duties, looking for her numbers. I mumbled an apology, while feeling 2 inches tall, sorry Carl :(

Celeb Status

Meeting Bethenny was super fun and totally worth the trip! I parked my car at the mall which was across the street from the signing. I had to cross the street with 100 onlookers who had aleady assembled in line. Their faces read, "Who IS that person?" (Eyerolling, whispering, etc. was their reaction, I don't mean who IS that person in a good way). Dressed in all yellow, trying very hard, I looked canaryish and like I was on a mission, a mission to somehow standout in a crowd of 1500. My early departure was worth it, since I was one of the first 100 people there.

I was nervous to see who I would be standing near, because for the next few hours, they would be my source of entertainment. Disappointingly enough, the Delaware residents were anything but exciting, maybe because their state is so small? I found myself sandwiched between these Delawarites, who had found other people from Delaware, and for three hours they asked each other if they knew this person or that person. Every once in awhile, I would throw in a comment, some fact I remembered from teaching states and capitals last year. It was pretty terrible. I DID see a girl I thought I graduated h.s. with, so trying to get her attention in line was fun for about 15 minutes.

Finally, Bethenny arrived, and you could feel the excitement and anticipation heighten, we were almost there! I bought her a Pittsburgh martini glass and a card and was excited to give both to her. She was probably like, it's a Skinnygirl MARGARITA, not martini. Oops, blonde moment; A for effort? She signed a bottle for me, and my People magazine. She also asked me if my "information" was inside the card. I panicked, what information? Email, phone number, social sec. #? She could have my identity for all I care, if I was able to receive written correspondence from her! I did include this blog address, hoping she would become a follower. Time will tell~

I took 3 pictures of her, and was able to get a picture in front of her white and red business car, super cute. It was a lot of driving, singing, coffee, and time, but all worth it!

Tomorrow, Tomorrow I Love Ya Tomorrow......

Yay tomorrow I'm embarking on the longest journey ever. 5 hour drive to Philly, stand in line for 4 hours to meet Bethenny Frankel, yay can't wait! Then off to see my love, Kat! I am NOT thinking about all the productive other things I could do with 9 hours, thanks for asking. I already have my outfit assembled; yellow dress, shoes, clutch, bracelet. I figure I have to stand out and I'm going to try to resemble a housewife to some degree. This should be interesting....

Somebody Call 911....Shawty Fire Isn't Burning on the dance floor, the 911 operator's ears are...

So if all else fails, my motto is "Call 911." These operators are paid to help people right? So there were three specific incidents when I called, and no one helped, go figure, story of my life. The Beatles song "Help" was running through my head, because I needed someone and thought, "Won't you please, please help me?"

1. A bird flew into my window last summer. I was scared to look outside and see some sort of liquid oozing out of the pigeon as he or she lay lifeless on the ground. Was he on a mission from NYC to deliver a message to a friend? Was she gathering worms for her babies? Was he trying to dry off from a birdbath? What WAS that liquid? Pee? Water from his bath? I didn't know what to do, but I had to act fast. I first called the aviary, proud of myself for remembering they associate with birds. The girl was less than thrilled to hear of my bird saga and suggested I try someone else. My dad was next, and he told me to put it out of its misery and kill it (I'm like PITA advocate to the max, so that was out. When I see birds flying south for the winter I get teary). Sean Kingston came into my mind and I thought, okay Sean I'll do it, I'll call 911, thanks! I prefaced the call with, "Okay, this is not an emergency but..." They were annoyed, I was sad, the bird was oozing.

2. My hubby and I were driving when we saw a deer with a wounded leg hobbling across the road. I'm not kidding, this time Sean Kingston was in the backseat, and we knew what we had to do...He was helping Shawty, we were helping a deer.

3. I was driving home on a beautiful sunny day and I saw this criminal type person basically creating a paper mache project transferring newspapers and tape to an old car. The license plate was not visible, and he was feverishly completing this project as if his life depended on it. This time I had to swerve because S.K. (hopefully no explanation is needed) was standing in the middle of the road. I was already dialing before I saw him. Since all of these episdoes were within a 1 month period, the operator basically hung up on me.

I feel like this relates to the little boy who cried wolf, in some way, but not sure how...maybe because I don't understand that fable, it's late, or I somehow know that NOT calling 911 in all those situations wasn't the answer to my problems...

My Salt "Situation" (Minus the 6 pack)

Yes, the anticipation of the new Jersey Shore season provoked my title for this post. The "Situation" I found myself in was more of a conundrum, which could have been easily avoided had an easy bridal registry item included an instruction manual. I have four canisters which sit on my kitchen counter. This is normal of course, as canisters come in all shapes, sizes, and colors, found in most kitchens. What is abnormal- the contents in these jars. Flour and sugar fill half of them, two logical dry ingredients used quite frequently. I would make Rice Krispie treats from time to time putting water and flour on my face, making it look like these goodies took the equivalent of a prime rib to create in the kitchen. (I think that was a commercial played in the early 90's). After measly attempts to make my husband laugh at my hardwork gig, it all ended one day with him asking, "Do those even have flour in them?"

The other two canisters stumped me for quite sometime. Tea, coffee, powdered sugar, gummie worms, salt, and brown sugar were in a race, and salt and gummie worms persevered with the bronze and silver medals respectively. (Flour and sugar share the gold, but I figured you already knew that). I didn't like looking at that Morton Salt girl with her umbrella and stupid saying, "When it rains, it pours." If I ever walked outside and saw salt falling from the sky I think I'd come up with a better motto than that! So I was perfectly content with my four canisters and what was filled inside: flour, sugar, salt, and gummie worms.

I had guests over and decided on a perfect summer dish of Spinach Strawberry Salad. The recipe called for 1/2 cup of sugar in addition to other things. I must have been reminiscing about my Rice Krispie escapades, because I grabbed 1/2 cup salt instead of sugar for the salad.

Later that evening I was pleased to see my salad was a success, but my guests graciously saved a small portion for me. As I took a bite expecting sweetness and flavorful goodness, I felt like the Morton girl hit me on the head with her umbrella. Salt WAS falling from the sky, or at least from my mouth. What an AWFUL salad! I walked in the other room to see the sectioned Chinet plates of my friends full of the only thing I made, my pitiful salad.

My friends didn't want to tell me how bad my salad was, but after I tried it we all laughed and thought of more random things to fill the canisters. All in all, it was a good night. :)

Sonogram

I have never had a sonogram before, so of course whenever the doctor said, "Remove everything below the waist," it only made sense to ask if she meant shoes as well. When she said it was my choice, as she was leaving the room, I hurriedly removed all garments, placing my cold callused feet, and unpainted toenails in the stirrups. My first PRE prenatal appointment, and I'd asked a dumb question in the first minute of being in the presence of a woman who could potentially deliever my baby. Why did that question pop into my head, and in addition, the scene in Knocked Up when they are at the doctor's office? The journey begins....