Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Kill 'em with kindness

I have a knack for being sickeningly sweet with a backhand of sarcasm.  I don't whip out this skill very often, but when I do, I am happy to say, it can leave the victim recipient a little confused, pissed, happy or maybe all of the above.  I was thrilled to put this skill to use recently.

Last weekend, I was driving my youngest to a birthday party.  My oldest was in the passenger seat, my youngest sitting behind me.  If you have read The Great BlogHer Wipeout of 2010, you know I am recovering from an injury that at times requires a percocet induced sleep at night  which can result in a somewhat foggy percocet induced hangover the next day.  So maybe I shouldn't have been driving one armed in my percocet induced fog, but I was, so get over it if you have a problem with that.

Anyway, I was at an intersection I have been at a million times before.  The lanes kind of jog a little, and if you aren't paying attention, you can end up in a lane that looks like it goes on straight forever, but in reality, as soon as you get through the intersection, you are in an immediate "start turning now" yield-y kind of lane.  Well, that's where I ended up when I wanted to go straight.  Oh, and I thought I was in the go straight forever lane.  This is where it gets ugly.

I am at the red light in my "think it goes straight forever lane" when it doesn't.  The light turns green and I am driving along and think the ding dong in front of me just cut me off in the intersection.  Surely, he was in the turn left lane and he just cut into my go straight forever lane.  I toot my horn and keep going straight.  Immediately, I hear a horn honking that would have put any NYC cab driver to shame.  I know this because I just spent 10 days in NYC listening to cab drivers, along with every other driver, honking their horns.  I then realize I am in.the.wrong.lane.  Oops.  My bad.

Everyone easily gets where they need to be, after all, we were coming off a red light and going all of 5 MPH.  We very quickly come to an intersection with a four way stop.  I look over and see the guy who honked at me literally leaning over his teenage son in the passenger seat, hanging out the passenger window, flipping me off and screaming at the top of his lungs, "You fucking bitch.  You need to learn how to drive your fucking car!  Fuck you, you fucking bitch!" He said this repeatedly.  The entire time I am getting flipped off with a nasty wave of the finger. People, I am not exaggerating.  In fact, I don't even know how to explain to you how pissed off this man was.  His face was flame red and there was spittle flying out of his mouth.  His poor son.  My poor son.  I thought they were both going to die of shock and/or embarrassment.

So I did what is the exact opposite of what I would have normally done. I'm always up for a good verbal altercation, but I really didn't feel like fighting today.  I rolled down my window and said, "Sir, please calm down.  I am sorry.  I made a mistake."  I start to roll up the window when the above "fuckity fuck" tirade begins again.  So I roll down my window and said, "Sir, I really think you should calm down.  I said I was sorry.  I made a mistake.  I am not perfect.  BUT it's good to know that you are."  He was about to repeat the "fuckity fuck" tirade, which was a little old at this point, and then my words sank in.  He apparently was a little smarter than he looked.  He looked at me, face flaming red, spittle hanging off his lips, in his son's hair and on my windshield.  His mouth was hanging open and then he pursed his lips shut and just stared at me like he couldn't believe what had just happened.  He then sat back in his seat.  It ended there for me, but his poor son.  I could tell mb the man's passionate hand movements and shaking body that he was lecturing his son on my awesome ability to cut someone off and be polite about it.  Ok, I think we all know he was really reaming his son out on what a terrible driver I am and reminding his son that all terrible driver's are fucking bitches.

I looked over at Big E, who has now reclined his seat.  I started cracking up and asked him if I embarrassed him.  He chuckled and said, "No, I'm tired."  Yeah, like I believe that one.  Thankfully, the man never looked over again, because Big E and I could not stop laughing.

So Big E and I had a conversation.  About how one little mistake on my part totally sent that man into a tirade that appears to have totally ruined his entire day.  How he risked his health (you know, he did about cause himself to have a heart attack) and the potential respect of his son not to mention he made a total ass of himself, because of a 10 second mistake made by me.  How awful it is that that man let that one little incident cause so much anguish for himself.  The flip off?  I totally get that.  Even a big scowl at me.  But the fuckity fuck tirade?  A little over the top.  Big E agreed.

Later, Big E and I were shopping and I started cracking up.  He looked at me funny and I said, "Do you think that man is still pissed and yelling and screaming?"  Big E then laughed and said, "Yeah, probably."

Monday, August 23, 2010

I was so sure...

...but I couldn't have been more wrong.

Someone at BlogHer told me I should change my blog title to "Foot in Mouth" (or something similar to that) after I told a couple stories about my blogging experiences. After this current real life experience, I'm seriously considering it.

It started out perfectly, chatting with CJ's homeroom teacher, introducing ourselves and sharing information. CJ was polite and cute.

We then go to meet his switch teacher who he will have for math and reading. He is on his best behavior, while his mama makes the biggest social faux pas ever.

Me: "When's your baby due?" (Yes, people, I asked that question. The question that no one should ask unless the woman is on the ground with a baby's head visually crowning between her legs.  And even then, it's risky. WHAT in the hell was I thinking?)

Teacher: "I'm not pregnant."

Me: thinks "holy fuck!" but says, "Oh, I am so sorry," and then babble on like an idiot about how every year we have at least one pregnant teacher and my eyes were seeing things that clearly weren't there because of that expectation.

The teacher was perfectly nice and explained she did have a baby less than four months ago. However, I fear after I left she put a big black mark next to CJ's name with a notation that says, "The mother is a socially awkward bitch."

Thursday, August 19, 2010

The Great BlogHer Wipeout of 2010

Here it is readers.  You've all been waiting to hear the story.  Don't be disappointed though, it does NOT involve me dancing on a table.

I started out the evening in my hotel room with me and a Captain Morgan's and Coke. When you attend a party with 1,000+ people, and know only a few and are not sure at what point you will actually meet up with them, you need a little something to take the edge off.

Off I went to the Gala Party.  I talked to a few people, exchanged information and then got the text I was waiting for, which was from Lee at MWOB, letting me know it was time for the Swanky After Hours Party hosted by Andrea at SavvySassyMoms in the penthouse of the London Hotel.  Off I go, again a little anxious because I am not going to know anyone but Lee, and she has work to do.

I ride the elevator up with a perfectly nice woman, who, as it turns out, also doesn't know what to expect.  I cling to her like a crazy woman and it turns out Teresa, from Tiaras & Tantrums, and I have a lot in common:  age, tattoos, # of kids with similar personalities. 

This is Teresa and myself.  I have no idea why this keeps flipping upside down when I keep editing it to be right side up.  Deal with it.

We have a couple of drinks, yes only two, chat with each other, talk to others, tour the penthouse, take some pictures of the view from the penthouse.
Then we decide to head home.  She was staying in a different hotel, so we part ways and she walks with another woman who she knew at the party and I head on alone.  It's about 12:30AM on Friday night/Saturday morn.

I get to 53rd St., between 6th and 7th Aves., where I can enter my hotel through a side door.  I am happy, slightly buzzed, walking swiftly, and enjoying the sites.  The streets are packed and the deli near my hotel has people out on the patio eating and enjoying the evening.  They had no clue what they were about to witness.  I decide to pass a group of three men, as I am getting close to my hotel entrance.  I want to pass and cut over so I can just pop in the hotel door.  This is where everything goes wrong.

I make my move to pass on the right (my mistake, maybe.  On the highway, you're supposed to pass on the left.  Are the rules the same on the sidewalk?  Doesn't matter, because I think there were people coming in our direction and I couldnt't have passed on the left.)  Anyway, these three men are walking the same direction I am so they don't even know I am behind them.  One of them cuts over into my passing path.  Why?  I have no idea.  Maybe he was getting out of the way of oncoming pedestrians, maybe one of his buddies kind of pushed him while laughing and joking around.  I really don't know and it doesn't matter.  My left foot goes between his legs.  I assume I pushed him out of the way some, we got a little tangled and my momentum keeps me moving forward.  Now, I am carrying a bag of swag, including a VERY LARGE martinini glass, so of course my left hand is holding my bag so I don't lose anything.  My right hand automatically thrusts out front of me and is the first thing to hit the ground.  I see my forearm do a 360 or a 180 or some other degree of turn that IS.NOT.NORMAL. and I hear the glass shatter.  Other than that, I didn't really see or hear anything else.  I looked at my arm, which didn't hurt yet, and knew I better take care of that before the pain set in, so I flipped it over and then I laid down because I was sure I was going to pass out.  I was also thinking, "Shit, I am going to be laying here all night until I'm coherent enough to call 911.  I hope no one steals my purse." 

Boy, was I wrong.  Within seconds, Liz of This Full House and Elizabeth of Busy Mom, were there, donning their superhero outfits (ok, maybe that was only in my head).  They were eating at the deli and, small world that it is, I had met Liz very briefly earlier in the day at BlogHer.  Thankfully she's a snorter and that is what I remembered about her.  I even said, "Hey, aren't you the woman who snorted earlier today?"  Elizabeth is a nurse and immediately gets to work doing what nurses do. 

The police show up in the blink of an eye, the man I tripped over is about to self-combust with concern and guilt and people get me ice and call the ambulance.  As if there is an angel watching over me, a man shows up and says, "I'm Dr. X (for the life of me, I cannot remember his name.).  I am an orthopedic surgeon.  Do I have permission to help you?"  Hell yes, who would say no to that!  He packs my arm in ice while I am begging for someone, ANYONE, to give me drugs.  Liz or Elizabeth is trying to make it clear to passers by, and the police officers, that I want LEGAL drugs, but honestly, I would have taken any drugs at this point that anyone would have offered me.  I pretty much guilted Liz and Elizabeth into riding in the ambulance with me.  That was most likely the last thing they wanted to do, but they obliged.  I thought I was going to have to turn over my iPhone 4 as payment, but in the end, they did it out of the kindness of their hearts, because that's just how they are.

After a decade of waiting on a New York City sidewalk, while people look at me like I am a crazy, drunken hobo, the ambulance shows up.  I can tell you all, an NYC ambulance ride when you are in pain is no fun.  However, I know when something is going to make a great blog entry and I asked the superheroes to take my picture in the ambulance.
This is me in between whining and begging for drugs.  I tried to convince the EMTs I was on the verge of a seizure so I could at least get some valium.  They didn't fall for it.

My roommate, Sheri, from the Swag Grabber, shows up at the hospital all trashed from partying in Greenwich Village and sends Liz and Elizabeth on their way.  I swear, seeing a familiar face, well familiar in the sense that I had met her the day before, shopped at the liquor store together and we had shared a hotel room for one night, was the best thing that could have happened for me.  She stayed with me the whole night, even feeding the staff bagels.  She watched them put me under and relocate my elbow.  She told me I should be thankful I was knocked out for that.  By the time we left at 6AM, she was sober and I was all doped up; we had reversed roles.  We were quite a pair trying to catch a cab at 6AM on a Saturday morning.
That bulge is the part of my elbow slipped out of its joint and pushing against my skin.

We both slept all day, she made sure I had my awesome meds and food.  She even helped me hook my bra as I got ready for the party on Saturday night.  She did have to step back, though, on Saturday morning, as I was blowing chunks into the hotel trash can.  Morphine, not to mention all the other drugs they gave me, does that to me.  I let her slide on that one.  Hell, she had already seen me naked (except I had my undies on) as she helped the ER nurse undress and then later dress me.  I don't think I could expect her to stand watch while I vomited.

I made it back to my SW Ohio home safely.  I have been to the orthopedic surgeon, had more x-rays and a CT scan, and it looks like no surgery is necessary, as long as no bone fragments make their way into my elbow joint.  He confirmed what the ER told me - dislocated elbow, broken humerus and torn ligaments.  He put me in a cast.  I am now out of that as he is concerned about my elbow getting stuck from being immobile.  The break did not snap the bone but broke off fragments at the base of the humerus and right now getting my elbow taken care of is the priority.  I start PT next week.  Thank god for percocet.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Still a lefty

I am missing putting up posts, reading your posts and commenting on them, but being a one armed lefty is quite the challenge!  I haven't even unpacked (except for the dirty clothes) from my NYC trip and I haven't had the chance to look at all the info. I received from the people I met so I can go visit their blogs.

I am hoping to have my husband hook up our voice thingy so I can talk and the computer will type for me.  I would really like to get my BlogHer summary up and share the Great BlogHer Wipeout of 2010 with you.  I'm thinking a video re-enactment might be in order.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Blogger bites the dust at BlogHer '10 - Another perspective

Since it may be several days before I'm able to write my own post, please visit Liz at This Full House for her perspective of this wacky evening.

Monday, August 9, 2010


In case you haven't heard, I fell while in NYC and broke my arm, dislocated my elbow and tore a ligament. I plan to reveal the entire (now) hilarious story with hopefully some input from other witnesses soon. Basically, when I can dictate it to my husband to type.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010


I've been hanging in NYC since Friday, after a very brief trip to Philly. I'm looking forward to seeing many bloggy friends this weekend at BlogHer. Will I see you there?