The one about the really long day

Ever have one of those days you feel like goes on for days? Like when a football game is for 11 a.m.—you start tailgating at 9orwhatevertimeyouwakeup, go to the game (or skip it) and then rally until the early hours of the morn? Boom. Had one of those marathon days last Saturday. Lawd have mercy, I never thought so much could happen in a 24-hour time period.

Just dancin'. Woo! I am an athlete!

Friday night (into Saturday morning, duh): After a 5-car caravan from Oxford to Bush (Bush is my town—in JNONO [Just North Of New Orleans] pronounced Ja-no-no-- that's made up) my friends and I went out in my town and had a dang blast. Tam, my sweet mommy, was our DD in her ex-minivan and she chauffeured us from our pregame location (where I had the world’s best etouffee that I can’t stop thinking about) to our bar of choice and back home. Side note: Mere and I found some (oldish) men to “sponsor” us to get into the bar. Finding sponsors when I go out is my newest hobby. Calling someone a sponsor makes them feel like they are doing charity work when they donate a couple dollars to the FUNd. See what I did there? Regardless, this local bar was so fun. And now I’m addicted to local bars and the spicy bands that play at them. Didn’t I just mention spicy bands in a previous blahg entry? I feel like I did. Could be a problem.

Whatever. Next day was Saturday: Woke up at the butt crack of dawn to drive to the city (the city= NOLA) for the run. We were  draggin’, but perky. Without going into too much detail for the legal 

reasons and since my blahg is public… (Yay for strangers who read my blahg! You rock! Especially you, kind stranger who religiously reads it in Germany.) …

At least it has some character?

I got in a wreck.

Womp, womp, womp. FAQs:

Was it your fault?

Merh. Yes. Duh. I always hit stuff. Not normally moving vehicles, but rather: garbage cans, curbs, animals, my parent's cars etc. I was trying to make a right hand turn into a parking lot that snuck up on me. I was in the left lane (which means there was a right lane next to me) and when my fellow drivers in the car said “Turn! Turn! Turn!” (not blaming the wreck on them, because it was DEF my fault, but you know how it is with a car full of peeps) I obvi turned. And heaven forbid I LOOK and see if a car was coming. Gah. I’m still depressed over it. I feel irresponsible and I am so paranoid on the road now. It’s probably good for me.

Did you get a ticket?

HELLO? I broke like 12 laws. Of course I got a ticket. Same day as I bought my plane ticket. And my court date is the day I leave for England. (Did I mention I’m going to England?! I’m going to England for 5 months.) Help me. I’m poor.

Was anyone hurt?

No. But I did hit a cop. Like the car I hit in the wreck, yeah, it was being driven by a real life police woman. I have great luck. Good thing she was in her Hyundai and not her Orleans parish cop car. I probably would have had heart failure.

Adam thought this picture was a good idea.
It's funny. But my face looks deformed.

And that’s that. Then we ran the race. We STARTED the race an hour later than all the other participants (sorry frands) but still had fun. It was like running through a colorful ghost town. Unique experience.

My parents treated us to lunch and then I drove to Baton Rouge (in my ghetto car whose passenger door no longer opens and doesn’t have a side view mirror) to see my carazay folks there. No kidding. They’re cray. Baton Rouge just does it so differently than Oxford and it’s always a good time. We played Guess Who which I kicked booty at while drinking Crush and Pinnacle (Luke was so impressed I guessed exactly the beverage, down to the brand name, that he made me.) Brent and I added a nice twist when we played a few rounds of “no questions about physical appearance” i.e. “Does your person have blue eyes? Brown hair? etc.” but rather, questions like, “Is your person Jewish? Does your person own a bottle of hairspray? Does your person have a desk job? Is your person a pedophile?” One day Brent’s going to hire me to be his Dental Hygienist. Cool, huh? Right, Brent? Also, thanks for sponsoring me at Bogie's.

Then we went out. Saw my best frands. Went to the bathroom with Cydney. Why girls always go to the bathroom in pairs, I’ll never understand. But I do it. It’s like Noah’s ark. My phone was brilliantly in my back pocket and it wasn’t until I was done doing my thang that we both looked down and saw my phone chillin’ in the pot. We about died laughing, but instead of having good reflexes and grabbing it out, we managed to snap a pic first on Cyd’s phone. Then she reached her hand in and grabbed my phone out and saved the day. And it was nothing short of a miracle:

IT WORKED! Then I announced to everyone I saw for the rest of the night that my phone survived several minutes in a bar toilet in its $20 case. HEYO.

We stayed out super late (because bars stay open later than midnight-- mind boggling), ate pizza rolls, slept 3 people in a full size bed, and sweated. Then the day ended. And when I woke up the next day, my car was still wrecked.

But I’m thankful for my phone still working, for safety, and for my friends, and my family, and cops, and for The Walking Dead, which I’ve watched 3 seasons of in 5 days.