Catch Me While I'm Sleeping

Many of you know that on my list of least favorite things, cops and paying for things are near the top of the list. Unfortunately, I was in the city recently and had a terrible moment where both of these things came together.... Yes, I got a ticket! BOO!!

Here's the story.

I was dancing in the city with some of my BFFs, Delisa and Josh. We were having fun, looking like these people, just less blurry.

We left around 2:30 and took the subway back to Brooklyn. When we were one stop away from Jay Street, I decided to take a nap, so I leaned by head against the metal bars at the end of the seat (I know, not the ideal pillow), scrunched up into a little ball, and fell asleep.

Well, my nap was interrupted at the next stop when I heard a banging near my head. I open my eyes to see a cop banging her stick against the metal bars and she's like, "Step off the subway." So I followed her (and the three male cops accompanying her...) off the subway and she asked me for my license. I gave it to her and she ran it and said, "If you have any warrants out, we'll have to take you in." And I was like,

Alright, so at this point I was sure that the cops were just trying to find a drunk person so they could give them a ticket for public intoxication. Since I'm a teetotaller, I figured I'd be fine; they would see it was six months and I was still sober and let me go. However, after the approx. 4 hours it took to run my license, the female cop handed my license to one of the male cops who started writing me a ticket!

When I got the ticket, I read it and saw that the official reason for the ticket was "obstruction of seating." In the note section, the cop wrote, "Observed resp lying down across bench aboard a s/b F train occupying more than one seat."

LYING ACROSS?! No. I was not like this guy:

Or even this woman:

Y'all know how I can squeeze myself into a little ball. Was I taking up more than one seat? Probably. Two at the most. But it was 3am and no one needed the seat!! Plus, while there are signs saying you can't smoke, listen to music, litter, eat, block the conductor's station, or walk between cars while the train is moving, there are no signs about taking up more than one seat!

So I just was like

and got back on the subway and we went home.

Now I'm wondering whether I should try to fight the ticket. What do y'all think? Has this ridiculous ticket ever been fought successfully?! Should I just pay the ridiculously costly ticket ($50)?!

Overdrive

In sharing life stories on this blog, I've often delved into the darkest moments of my life. I've posted about almost being attacked by a creep, the biggest upset in history, some car trouble, and even the passing of my beloved pet. This following story is one of the darkest moments of all, capturing a day of my life that I will never forget. I have rarely known such terror as I did on this day... The day of...

My driving test.

I should have anticipated the horror that awaited me. As some of my older friends began getting their licenses, they would warn me, "When you go to take the road test, make sure you don't get the mean lady!" Everyone who took the test told me this, even people who didn't actually have to perform for "the mean lady." Whether they had a personal experience with her or not, everyone knew her and knew she was awful, kind of like "Born This Way."

So I go in for my test, pull up to the little station, and out comes the mean lady. I knew it was her immediately by the way she scowled as she climbed into the passenger seat. At first, she didn't seem that mean, so I was temporarily optimistic.

The start of the test wasn't bad. I just drove around in circles while she barked questions at me: "How long have you been driving?!" "When's the last time you practiced?!" "Do you know where the center of the road is?!?!" She wasn't super pleasant, but she didn't make me cry yet, so I was sure everything would be fine.

Then I got to parallel parking.

Now, living in Lambertville for a year has made me a pretty great parallel parker. But back in the day, I wasn't so great at is (who is at 16 years old?). I didn't hit the cone, but I did brush the curb. I heard that that's not a huge deal, so I asked the mean lady if I could go again. Finally, some of her nastiness came out.

I successfully completed my second attempt at parallel parking and then did my k-turn. (Seriously, why is a k-turn on the test? Who can't do a k-turn?!) I started going toward the exit, hoping that I would pass despite my brief contact with the curb. But this is where things got really bad.

To leave the little driving test track, you have to turn left at the end of the track. You can also go right, but that just leads to more random test track, and I was done with my test! So I put on my blinker to go left, began to make the turn, and then...

The mean lady started screaming at me to turn so loud, that I assumed I was going the wrong way and made a very sharp right turn, back onto the test track. Only I was now going against traffic.

Luckily, there was no one else on the track. Still, the mean lady was not happy with this latest development. Unfortunately, I decided this would be a good moment to talk back to her.

I remember her words exactly. Jerky? How was I the jerk?! She was the one yelling at me and made me go the wrong way! She was not pleased at all that I talked back to her, and I didn't want to make her even angrier, so I just shut my mouth and sped around the track to get back to the exit. I approached the practice STOP sign and decided to stop a little too late, after I had already passed the white line. This made her pretty livid.

Again, I spoke back to her, but this time, I think it helped me. I said, "I didn't stop because I thought the test was over! Now I'm just gonna drive back to the station!!" She didn't say anything at all, so I drove back to the station and she got out.

I looked back at Mike, who brought me to the test and let me use his car, and made a grim face. I had friends who failed their first road test and I went into the test determined to not follow in their footsteps. Now I had blown it.

The mean lady came over to my window and glowered at me until I rolled the window down. She didn't even bend down when she spoke, but she said, "I don't know... It must be your lucky day. Take this and show it to the people inside to get your license." Somehow, I'd passed! I got away from her as fast as possible and got my license, on my first try!

So what's the moral of this story? I guess to never give up, even when you're sure you've already lost. Or maybe it has an even simpler moral: when you go to take the road test, make sure you don't get the mean lady!

One Hour Photo: Take Me Out To The Ball Game

A thousand years ago, I shared a story about an experience I had working in the Rite Aid photo lab. Here's another story!!

So one day, this lady comes in and starts to blah blah blah about how she had so much fun at the Yankees game, and she's so proud of her team, and they they scored so many goals, etc. etc. She hands me a roll of film and tells me to develop the photos from the game.

I started to develop the pictures and they were SO BORING. Basically, she took a bunch of pictures of people running around in the grass and throwing spheres at each other.

When I woke up from my nap, I started to go through the photos to make sure they were all OK. And that's when I found the interesting photos! The interesting set began with a photo of the girl's boyfriend jumping on a bed... naked!

The photos got progressively more inappropriate until eventually, I reached he photos of the couple going to home base...

While naked pictures aren't really surprising to see, there was something strange about these photos; they appeared between photos of the baseball game. I'm pretty sure they didn't see two games, so I think that at some point between the 4th and 10th innings, the lady and her boyfriend decided to go off somewhere and have some fun.

But the best thing of all? The lady must have forgotten about those pictures because she gave her mother the receipt to pick up the photos!

Of course the mother picks up the photos and just has to look at them in the store. I watch her open the envelope, flip through the photos, then suddenly stop.

She stuffed the photos in the envelope and was out!

So remember folks: if you take n00dz, don't let your mom pick them up from the photo lab! She might take a peek.

The Birth of Joshrico

A lot of people ask me how Josh and I got to be BFFs. Did we meet at a Kelly Clarkson concert? Did we cross paths while stumbling around NYC, hoping someone would buy us lunch?! Well I'm here to tell you guys the story. Josh and I met through one of our shared loves... No, not Steven the Beautiful! Poetry.

Here's what went down.

My freshman year of college I was part of a club called The Siren. The Siren published a literary magazine every fall featuring only the best creative writing from TCNJ students. Most of the meetings went like this:

Most of the poems we got were pretty bad! But every now and then, an awesome poem made it through the cracks and the club decided to publish it in our esteemed magazine. One of those poems was called "Reproduction" and I loved it!

It was about some dude sitting in his bedroom, thinking about how he would never have children because he wasn't attracted to women. Well, this poem spoke to me and I fell in love with it and demanded it be printed. Everyone else agreed and we published the poem. The Fall '07 issue of The Siren came out feat. "Reproduction" (and a poem by yours truly!) and the world spun madly on.

-------------------

The following semester (Spring '08) I helped plan events called Student Reading Series. At these events, my club ink (yes, I love joining clubs!) asks three writers to read their work out loud for an audience of peers/teachers/homeless people who stumble into the library. Well, we chose two random kids, and for our third reader we chose.... yes, Josh Page. So I saw Josh for the first time ever as he went up to the podium and read his poetry. And my life was forever changed!

I couldn't believe it! Even though I read "Reproduction" prox. 1,000 times and saw the name "Josh Page" in The Siren over and over, I didn't even notice that it was the same Josh Page that was reading at the Student Reading Series.

After the reading, I quickly rushed out to the reception to meet the poet.

Well, Josh actually had real friends and needed to sign a lot of autographs so he didn't have much time to talk to me at the reception.

Luckily for us both, one of my fave hobbies is stalking! So I found Mr. Page on Facebook and sent him a message (CLICK TO ENLARGE!)

And the rest is history! And by history I mean we watched American Idol together and I screamed for joy whenever Brooke White came on and Josh and his roommates rolled their eyes at me. But we screamed for joy together when Syesha came out to amaze us with her red dress and amazing vocals! Then we were friends, etc. etc. Then I introduced him to the blogosphere and made him famous and people started asking how we met. So there you go.

Josh, can you believe we met on March 27th 2008?! I thought we've known each other our whole lives?!

One-Hour Photo: Grandparent's Day

In a truly inspiring blog post published earlier this month, I mentioned that I used to work in the Rite Aid photo department. I was going to include some funny stories in that entry but realized they deserve their own entries. So here's one story. It's the story of my first experience developing n00dz....

So one day, this elderly lady comes in and drops off a roll of film.

Yeah, I gave that excuse a lot. "Changing chemicals" simply means that I was at a really interesting part in the book I was reading at the time. And on my list of priorities, reading comes before developing photos!

So I start developing the pictures and at first, I can't really tell what I was looking at.

Brown and blue blotches appear on a white, flappy material. After seeing a few of these prints I realize that I'm looking at bruises! And then I realize the bruises must be on an old person since the skin had lost its elasticity about a decade before the pictures were taken.

Then....

I get to a picture of the old bruised man, completely naked!! After pictures of his bruised arms, legs, and chest, someone took a full body shot and homeboy forgot to put on his drawers!

And this, my friends, was the exact moment in my life when I discovered that old people don't just get white hair on their heads, but everywhere.... X|

So the old lady comes back a couple of hours later and I give her the photos. But of course she doesn't just take them and bounce....

She then goes through the photos, pointing at the bruises and telling me about the car accident. And yes, she casually shows me the naked ones and doesn't seem to mind. It was sweet how concerned she was, but at the same time, she was showing me her husband's n00dz. I wonder if her hubby knew she was showing me the pictures. Maybe old people aren't ashamed of their naked bodies or something.

After she left I thought I'd never have to see naked old people again. However, you'd be surprised at how many such pics I got at Rite Aid. One memorable set was of an old couple painting their house in the buff. The weirdest part is when an old lady drops off a roll of film and you kind of assume what the pics are gonna be of (her grandchildren, bingo night, etc.) and then suddenly she and her hubby and painting their bedroom walls while letting it all hang out.

Maybe I got so many elderly n00dz cause the older generations don't know how to work digital cameras yet :P

Wait 'Til You See My Horn

Posts about my childhood are often funny or light-hearted. But now, I am going to share one of my most terrifying and scarring memories!

So one day when I was in like 5th grade, I was walking home from the bus stop, just minding my business.

My bus stop was about ten blocks away from my house. The walk was short and usually uneventful. I usually just sang as I walked (Maria Mena and Michelle Branch mostly).

But one day, when I was on my street and only a few short blocks away from home, I was stopped by some old man. And my life was forever changed.

I didn't know exactly what this creepy man meant by wanting to 'see my horn' but I had an idea!

So I was out!

The man yelled after me, asking me return to his lair casa to unveil my horn. He even ran after me for a block or two! I was running down the street, swinging my heavy backpack, and having a heart attack.

I ran into my house and straight into the arms of my mother. I told her that some hombre viejo wanted to see my horn. She was not pleased.

I calmed her down and eventually she put away her gun and grabbed the phone.

We waited approx. 30 hours (how many kids had the man kidnapped in that time?!) and then finally the cop arrived.

I remember I didn't want to talk to the cop so my mom had to drag me to hell outside to talk to him. She told me that cops are there to help you.... Yeah, right.

So the cop went over to the man's house and interrogated him.

The cop came back to my house to report his findings and hear my side of the story.

And that was the end of that! That cop spent .2 hours investigating and then assumed I was lying or something. Jeez.
(About a decade later, a friend of this cop gave me my first speeding ticket, cementing my belief that all cops are dummies.)

Anyway, from then on I took an alternate route home. To this day, whenever I pass that dude's house, I wonder if he's inside and I get a little nervous.

And I still wonder exactly what he meant when he asked to see my horn....

Ain't Got No

As all youngest children know, God gives us siblings just so that they can embarrass us whenever possible. Since I have THREE older siblings, I have a lot of interesting/embarrassing/tragic stories from childhood.

Here is one I'm SURE I'll never forget....

(As usual, I am played by Shia LaBeouf and TJ is played by Mariah Carey. My father is played by James Gandolfini. And his way of speaking is hard to transcribe, but I tried. lol.)

One day, my siblings were getting ready to visit my aunt and uncle.
My father looked us over to make sure we didn't look like 'the garbage people' and was not pleased with my hairdo.

After crying (I often cry when someone yells at me), I made my way to the bathroom so I could brush my hair.
But my sister TJ suddenly piped up.

After trying to brush down my cowlick for like 15 minutes, my sister gave up and decided to use a different method to control my wild mane.

I still don't know why I ever let my sister get the scissors when she was supposed to be BRUSHING my hair.
Hey, what can I say? I was a very trusting child.
So anyway, she only snipped a few strands, but my father came in and basically had a heart attack. He said she ruined my hair and decided that their was only one solution.

So he SHAVED my head.

As my papa shaved off all my locks, I just cried a thousand storms, flooding the bathroom in the process. When he was done, I put on a baseball cap, ran into the other bathroom in the house and locked myself in.

My father tried to get me to come out.

Well we obviously know that didn't happen. He still got me to go to my aunt's house that day. But no one could get me to take off my hat!
Luckily, my hair grows back very fast, so I didn't have to walk around bald for too long.

At the time, I was obviously really mad/embarrassed. But now that I think about it, TJ only did me a favor by being the catalyst for my shaved head.

Now I have something in common with my favorite pop star.

Can I Have A Kiss?

Everyone remembers their first kiss.
My first kiss was quite interesting and VERY corny.
Here's the story....

One day, I was over my first girlfriend's house. Her name was Amanda and neither of us had our first kiss yet.

I guess we both wanted to, but neither of us was brave enough to actually do it.

So on this fateful day, we made up a game so that we would have our first kiss without being forthright about it.

We wrote actions that couples do on little slips of paper. For example, a slip might say "hug" or "compliment" or, of course, "kiss." And no, nothing past 1st base appeared on those slips! We would then pull slips from a hat and do whatever the slip commanded.
(Now that I think of it, this is kinda like a really tame and corny version of those sex dice.....)

So Amanda picked the first slip.

Now that we clear that Amanda was not handicapped and fully able to pick slips of paper, she picked another piece.

So we stopped playing and didn't even kiss.

But of course, the story doesn't end there.

I realized it was 6:30pm and my mom might start worrying about me so I told Amanda it was time to leave.
She walked me out....
we stood on her balcony....
we talked awkwardly for a few minutes....
we looked around nervously....
and....

And I had my first kiss.

So, while the first half of this story is completely lame and embarrassing, I do like the fact that I had my first kiss on a balcony!

What was your first kiss like?

Mighty Morphin'

The other day, I was searching Craigslist for a house to rent next semester when I came across these sneakers.

Immediately I was flooded with memories of my childhood. I once owned a pair of sneakers quite similar to these! I remembered the days when I would sit in front of the TV, eagerly waiting for Power Rangers to begin and I still had velcro on my sneakers.

But really, the best story about Power Rangers sneakers isn't about me, but my brother Pasquale.

One year, Pasquale and I both got Power Rangers sneakers. At the time, Pasquale was in 1st grade and I was a year younger. So of course we grew out of the sneakers quickly.

The following Christmas, I got new sneakers! I think they were black.

Well, Pasquale got new sneakers too....

Except they weren't so new; they were the same Power Rangers sneakers! Just bigger!

Well by this point, all of the cool kids were over Power Rangers.
Pasquale hid his feet everywhere he went, hoping he would eventually get new sneakers.

Months passed, and his birthday finally came in August.
After rockin' Power Rangers sneakers for so long, he was excited to open a b-day present that looked like a shoebox.... But he could tell something was wrong....

Yup, inside was another pair of the same Power Rangers sneakers, just bigger!

My sisters and I chuckled and my dad probably yelled at us. Pasquale just cried.

Well the best part of this story is that this trend continued for a while; every time Pasquale complained about growing out of his sneakers, my dad would get him a new pair of Power Rangers sneakers! This lasted until he was in 5th grade (!!!) when we moved in with my mom.
She finally had the sensibility to get him different sneakers.

My sister TJ still bothers him about it today since she was one of the lucky ones who fought against my father's poor sense of fashion.
Isn't it great when your parents make you wear embarrassing clothing?