Impenetrable Packaging & Eyeglass Repair

So I found this while browsing the internet one day…

scissors

This, my friends, is a bad day summed up in one picture. Doesn’t this just irritate you? Like, I’m pretty sure I can narrate what went on here:

New scissors! Hooray! I can finally cut things, but first let me open this nearly impenetrable packaging.  Alright, let me just go find my completely dull scissors to open this nearly impenetrable packaging. Guys, this isn’t working out so well. Maybe if I squeeze the handle a little harder…Annnnd they’re broken.

Who thought of this packaging for something like scissors?! Like, I know it’s probably a safety thing at the store, but dang! The reason why you bought scissors in the first place is because a) you don’t have any or b) the ones you have needed replaced. In either case, you need scissors to get new scissors!

Have you guys ever seen the packaging for flash drives or memory cards? Pretty much the same. They make it so that getting the packaging open is an excruciating process. And it’s ridiculously huge, like ten times the size of the item. I guess they think it’s funny. But at least you can use scissors to open them. eyeglasses repair kit

The level of ridiculousness for all this packaging reminds me of something that has bothered me for years. As a person who wears glasses, it’s incredibly irritating to me that the screws on the hinges of my glasses are so small. They get loose, you have to screw them back in. It’s a hassle. Especially because you get this handy dandy little (and I mean little) kit to work with. Don’t let the image enlargement fool you. Everything in this kit is microscopic. Even the screwdriver. Who said, “Here’s a great idea! Let’s make the blind people take off their eye corrections and have them try to fix their own glasses!” Like, I’m pretty sure these people are sitting behind monitors with popcorn somewhere watching all this go down. I’m glad we’re entertaining for them.

Laziness and Lava

Whoa! It’s been a month since I wrote a blog post! Where has the time gone?! Sorry guys, life got in the way for a little while. But here’s a story:

Yesterday, I was struck with some extreme laziness. I was tired all day and was just severely lacking motivation. It was while trying to get some homework done that I saw my phone was dying. My sister had just walked in my room and started talking to me so I figured it was a good time to break and get my charger. My charger is normally plugged into the wall a mere 3 feet from my bed, but to get to it, I have to reach around a desk. I didn’t really feel like getting up, so I’ll just leave you with this visual…

stretching from bedI don’t know why we do this. I know I’m not the only one who does it either. It would be much less difficult to just get out of bed.

Anyway… In the midst of reaching for my phone charger and plugging in my phone, my sister and I spoke in unison:

“It’s like playing lava.”

Usually, I don’t think it’s weird when her and I say things in unison. It happens all the time. We have what we call “almost twintuition,” so it’s fairly normal for us to say the same thing at the same time. This, though, I definitely was not expecting.

The fact that we both thought of the same childhood game we used to play on the playground in elementary school (you know, the one where you jump from one piece of playground equipment to another because the ground is “lava” so you can’t touch it) was absolutely amazing to me.

Now I’m positive we operate on the same brain waves.

Just Some Early Morning Trauma…

Have you ever had someone knock on your second-story bedroom window while whisper-yelling “let me in!” at 3 in the morning? This happened to me the other night. And no, it was not a dream.

At first I didn’t know what was happening. All I knew was that I was startled awake by something. I heard tapping on my window and thought it might be a tree branch. As I laid there, the tapping became more and more intense. Then I heard the whisper-yelling: “Bekka! Let me in!”

I instinctively grabbed my phone off my nightstand (because it offers so much protection? Because I was going to call someone? I still can’t figure that one out). I saw that there were 3 missed calls from my sister. Weird. The knocking became even more intense. It was beating. I really thought my window was going to break.

After I heard the whisper-yelling about 4 more times, I decided to close my eyes and avoid looking out the window. If someone’s face was in it, I didn’t want to see. I rolled out of my bed (still in a completely horizontal position) and crawled across my bedroom floor. (Let me remind you that I am rather groggy at 3 in the morning. I wasn’t really thinking logically.) I just knew that I didn’t want to sit up in my bed and be staring into the eyes of another human being.

I made my way across my bedroom floor and opened the door. Without turning on my bedroom light, or any light for that matter, I crawled into the hallway. Then, I stood up (because the staircase is shielded from windows) and walked down the stairs to my front door. At that point, I really didn’t know what to do. My front window isn’t at the right angle to see all the way to my bedroom window. So I probably did the dumbest thing ever: I opened the front door.

It was just a crack, but I got a good enough view to see who the freak was who was surely standing on a ladder trying to break my bedroom window with his fists…

Her fists? Wait… her shovel?

After I figured out who it was, I opened the door wider. Standing there in my front yard, with a shovel raised above her head was my sister. Standing right below my bedroom, she was hitting my window with the shovel and whisper-yelling, “Bekka! Just let me in!” At that point, she saw the door open and headed toward me. I was ticked. As soon as she got to the door, I started whisper-yelling at her.

Me: “At what point did you think it was a good idea to break my bedroom window with a shovel while whisper-yelling my name and telling me to let you in?! Let me tell ya, that right there makes me want to just open the door right up for you!”

Leeah: “Oh my gosh! I didn’t even think about it like that! I called your phone a million times!” (3. I got 3 missed calls.) “Someone locked the bottom lock, so I couldn’t get in!”

Me: “Dude, I didn’t even unlock the bottom lock. I twisted the deadbolt to unlock the door.”

Leeah: “No, I swear, it was locked.”

Whether it was locked or not, that was one of the most horrifically terrifying experiences of my life. P.s. The whisper-yelling was what freaked me out the most. When I first heard it, this is what went through my head:

Lord of the RingsOkay, you can judge me now.

More Bathroom Embarrassment

Okay, just one more bathroom story. Then, I promise I’ll talk about something else for a while.

I went out for my friend’s 22nd birthday a couple months ago. A group of us decided to go bowling and after that, we went out to eat at this tiny diner. (By that time, it was like 1 am.) The company was good. We sat there and sang Taylor Swift’s “22” to him, and it was generally a great time. After we ate and sat there for a while, we all started to get tired so we got up and started to leave. On this particular night, my sister and I rode together, and right before we walked outside she stated that she needed to use the bathroom. One of our friends that was walking out with us agreed, so we turned around to use the facilities.

Alright, so far everything is normal.

My bathroom experience was normal, so was my sister’s. My sister and I popped a squat on a little bench outside the bathrooms to wait for our friend to get done.

That’s when all bathroom hell broke loose. (That was definitely an exaggeration.)

This guy walked out of the men’s bathroom with, I swear to you, ten feet of toilet paper attached to his heel. You guys, I’ve only seen this kind of thing happen in the movies. He just walked by us (by the time he reached the end of the bathroom hallway, the TP had detached itself from his foot) and I just sat there in shock. I had never seen that happen to anyone before… How does that happen? Like, I check my feet every time after I use public restrooms. I thought everyone did that.

My sister and I looked at each other at the same time… and we freaking lost it. (It was like 2:30 by this time… we were slap happy anyway.) We were both in tears from laughing so hard. We weren’t laughing at him, we were laughing at his situation… because I promise you, it’s hilarious when you see that in real life.

At that point, our friend came out of the bathroom. She took one look at the ten feet of TP on the floor and another look at my sister and I doubled over laughing on the bench. We tried to explain between breaths what just happened and she said:

“Sometimes I think I’m having a bad day, then things like this happen to other people…”

In unrelated bathroom news, I go to school with the Hulk. I walked into the bathroom on the silent floor of my school’s library and found this gem. Feel free to create your own story about what happened here:Stall Door

Daring to Dance in the Early Days

Today’s Daily Prompt: What are your earliest and fondest memories of dance?

As a dancer, I could not ignore this prompt. Dancing is one of my passions and my life wouldn’t be the same without it. Nowadays, I dance in a company and am a dance minor. I do jazz, tap, ballet, pointe, hip hop, and little of some other styles, but it wasn’t always that way. I definitely did not grow up in a studio like some dancers. In fact, I didn’t even start studio dancing until high school. When I was little, I was a tomboy. The last thing I wanted to be was a ballerina.

But when it comes to my passion for dance, I guess I have my mom to thank, even though I’ve never really thought that until now. There was a time in my life when it was just Mom, Leeah, and I. My mom was single, working two jobs, raising two daughters, and life was just busy. The three of us used to get up at about 4 a.m. so that my mom could take my sister and I to the babysitter before she had to be to work at 5. Sometimes, I would sleep on the way to the sitter, but mostly I remember singing… and dancing.

At that time, and still today, our little family had a deep love for country music. It pretty much ran in our veins. At the time, “Two Pina Coladas” by Garth Brooks was a popular hit on the radio. (That was 1997. I was about 4.) My mom taught my sister and I these hand motions to go along with the song (I still remember them today), so every time the song came on the radio, Leeah and I would excitedly do the hand motions in our seats.

When I got a little older, I graduated from hand motions to all out dancing at wedding receptions. I remember going to about 3 or 4 wedding receptions as a child. I was a shy little kid. I blushed anytime someone would talk to me, but I grew up in a little family of extroverts. My mom and sister are not shy by any stretch of the imagination. So, at these wedding receptions, my mom would always pull Leeah and I out onto the dance floor, and do dances like the “Macarena” (haha, I didn’t know there was a music video until now) and “The Electric Slide” (oh, ’90s, you were wonderful).

A number of other little dance milestones followed: My fifth grade performance of “The Electric Slide” at a showcase, more wedding receptions, school dances in middle school and high school, as well as my high school dance showcases. I learned a lot of what I know by simply watching other people.

Now, I’m here, where my life is full of dance 24/7. I wouldn’t change it for the world.

‘Bout to Burst: I Can’t Hold It Anymore!

So apparently I’m going to be posting bathroom stories for a while because my last post got me thinking about all the crazy things I’ve experienced with bathrooms.

This particular bathroom incident happened a little less than a year ago while I was visiting my family in Texas. We decided to go to Galveston on this particular day, just to sightsee, so we took the ferry across and had a wonderful day doing touristy things. When the sun was about to set, we decided it was time to head back to Orange, where most of my family lives down there, but before we left, Leeah and I wanted to visit our favorite tourist stop. While there, we decided that we were parched from the day on the beach and all the walking around in the shops on The Strand, so we walked across the street to a McDonald’s.

I got a HUGE iced tea (ya know, in one of those big foam cups) and it was gone by the time we got on the ferry, which was like 2 miles from McDonald’s. (I mean, the island is only 27 miles long and 3 miles wide… so it doesn’t take long to get anywhere). But that iced tea was demolished.Ferry

Anyone whose ever been to Galveston knows that there’s a really really really long stretch of road (I-87) with nothing except beach houses for miles after you get off the ferry (if you’re headed toward Houston). I’ll remember this road forever because it has scarred me for life. I promise you, there is nowhere to stop for gas, food, or the freaking bathroom. Except when you get towards the end. And let me tell you, this freaking road does not end… for miles.

By the time we got to the end of this ridiculously long stretch of road, I was about ready to burst. I had to pee so badly. I’m pretty sure it was the closest I’ve ever been to peeing my pants. It was awful. But we’re just getting to the good part.

So, we finally reached the gas station at the end of I-87. I thought I was seeing a mirage. My sister and I jumped out of the car and walked (by that, I mean we pretty much ran like a bunch of uncivilized children) into this gas station and quickly searched for the nearest bathroom (at that point, I would’ve been satisfied with a hole in the ground. The place didn’t even need walls. I had to go.) After we found the bathroom, I raced myself right on in there. I was smart enough to look for toilet paper as to not violate Restroom Rule #1. But guess what? There was no toilet paper to be found.

I raced out to the cashier to ask for toilet paper, but he wasn’t behind the register. Great. So I rang the little desk bell like 19 times. By the time the cashier took his sweet time making his way up to the register, I thought my bladder might explode. As soon as I saw him, I practically made a public declaration of my need for proper restroom supplies.

Me: “I NEED TOILET PAPER!”

Cashier: “Oh, the bathroom doesn’t have any?”

Me: “No, it’s all out.”

Cashier: “Okay, let me get some. I’ll be right back.”

You guys, it took him forever to find where he stocked his own toilet paper. When he finally returned to the front of the store, he held two rolls of TP covered in plastic. Awesome. I reached my hand out to take them from him, ready to make a mad dash for the bathroom.

Cashier: “Let me unwrap these for you.”

What he should’ve said was: “Let me take my sweet time cautiously unwrapping these two rolls of TP because I’m going to save the freaking plastic wrapping.”

I was almost rude. But I held it in. He was just trying to be nice. After his 5-minute unwrapping marathon, he finally handed me the blessed TP. This time, I unashamedly sprinted for the bathroom. Fresh TP in tow, I closed the door behind me. I was unbuckling my belt when I coincidentally looked up at the sign on the back of the door. It said something to the effect of:

“Only paying customers may use this restroom.”

Oh, God bless America. I should’ve just peed myself right then and there to make the universe happy, but I settled for using the toilet… and buying an ice cream.

Rupturing Restroom Rule #1

So this is embarrassing…

The other day, I walked into the bathroom at school. It was fairly normal, just like any other day walking into the bathroom. There was no one else in there, so I just took a random stall and closed the door behind me. I hung my purse on the little peg on the back of the door and took off my coat to hang it up as well. I proceeded to sit down and do my thang. But right as I was reaching for the toilet paper, the realization that I broke Restroom Rule #1 hit me. I forgot to check to make sure the stall actually had toilet paper.

I almost cursed, y’all. It got real in that stall for a hot minute.

Since I’ve never broken Restroom Rule #1 (that was a 20-year record I had going), a thousand questions ran through my mind all at once. What do I do? Do I sit here and drip dry? (Gross.) Do I wait for someone to come in the bathroom and then plead with them to hand me TP? (That wouldn’t have worked. I was on my way to cover a story I was writing and I had to be on time. The universe would have repelled women from my restroom’s location.) Do I try to reach under the stall wall and unravel some TP from the stall next to me? (I tried that. My arm hurts and it doesn’t work.)

I was at a loss. But, thankfully I remembered this is 2014 and my iPhone was in my coat pocket. I leaned forward to grab my coat off the hook and took out my phone. I dialed my sister because I knew she was in the building (actually, she was right outside the bathroom door at the time) and the following conversation went down:

Leeah: “Hello?”

Me: “Hi… Ummm… I need some toilet paper. Don’t judge me.”

Leeah: “BAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!” (I swear she laughed so hard. Not nice.) “You’re a hot mess.”

After she got done judging me, she went into the stall next to mine and handed me some TP under the door.

toilet paper

Me: “Ummm… I hate to bother you… BUT WHO THE HECK USES ONE SQUARE OF TOILET PAPER TO WIPE?! A little more…please.”

Leeah: “Dang, girl! How much TP do you think you need?”

As if the situation wasn’t already uncomfortable, she now wanted me to explain what amount of TP I desired because her suggested amount wasn’t good enough?! Haha. No. Thank God I didn’t have to ask a stranger to perform this completely irrational TP-fetching task.

It might have been my imagination, but I swear to you, this came next. She’s totally fired by the way.

toilet paper

Moral of the story: Do NOT, by any means, violate Restroom Rule #1. Your friends will laugh at you and you won’t get a good wipe.