BEHIND THE WHEEL: LESSONS LEARNED (PART IV OF IV)
In honor of the fact that my driver’s license is finally expiring after what seems like ages and since they didn’t just mail me a new one again like last time, I actually have to brave the DMV and a camera for a new photo (two of my least favorite activities) . Over the remainder of this week I’ll be sharing some of my adventures and lessons learned while behind the wheel. For Part I, which focuses on first car accidents and lessons learned, click here. For Part II, which focuses on the anticipation and impatience associated with the time right before you legally obtain a driver’s license as a teenager, click here. For Part III, in which you will learn that I have no sense of direction when it comes to driving, click here.
To wrap up this “Behind the Wheel” series, that has kept in line with the standard of over-sharing personal information that is the norm for this social-media ruled day in age, I’ll leave you with my lessons learned up until this point in my driving career.
LESSON #1:
Car Talks – The best (and sometimes worst) most honest conversations seem to happen in a car. There’s something about the feeling of privacy that the enclave created within a vehicle leads one to lose their inhibitions and make confessions or declarations that we might not usually be able to so easily impart upon others, were we to be in any other location or setting. Whether the car is in motion or at a standstill doesn’t so much matter; secrets are spilled, frustrations are released, and relationships are terminated (and/or sometimes salvaged)— all before either party exits the vehicle. Some of the best conversations I’ve had with friends have been late night car chats lit only by the blinking hazard lights (flashing to warn the other vehicles that it may be a while before the car will be hitting the road again). In fact, with some of my closer friends we sometimes make a habit of ending the night with a long car tête-à-tête. Some of these conversations can be credited for re-storing sanity or keeping friends off the figurative “ledge,” while others are of a more light-hearted variety that usually result in a re-capping the night’s (or day’s) events.
LESSON #2:
Vehicle to Vehicle Flirting – I rarely pay attention to other people in surrounding cars while I’m driving. Although I’m aware of what’s going on around me, I’m very often either working in my head or lost in thought. If you want to get my attention while I’m driving you’re either going to have to yell my name and/or wave frantically, or do something outlandish and hope that I happen to glance in your direction to see it. Just like every other girl who has ever been behind the wheel, I’ve been hit on by guys young and old at one point or another while in my car. The worst is when you are stuck at a light and all you can do is roll up your window and/or turn up your music, and yet they still persist. I’ve even been serenaded a few times by someone in a neighboring car. Those that know me know I really don’t like being hit on and will usually ignore it. I always wonder if that ever works on any girls? I don’t think any of my friends have ever made a love connection from one car to another at a stoplight/sign or while driving. If you have I’d like to hear about it.
Anyhow, the lesson I learned came in the form of a beautiful sunshine-y day in Long Beach, Ca. I was in college and as usual had a car full of my girl friends with me. We were heading back to campus, when one of them told us that the guy in the car next to us had been staring into the car for a while. We all turned to check him out and he was actually kind of cute. However, being about 19 and 20 year olds we decided it might be fun to mess with him and decided to all give him our sexiest glances. We weren’t ever those girls, but for some reason we all went with it. I think we were more silly than sexy (I really don’t think I even know how to be sexy), however because I was the driver he was concentrating on me, so I kept it up just to mess with him. I figured that after the light changed, I could speed up and be done with that and never see that guy again. The light changed and we entered into the Long Beach traffic circle. Now for those of you familiar with that traffic circle you probably know that it can seem a little intimidating the first few times you are in it, but after a while you get used to it. However, it’s still an area where you have to pay attention to the vehicles around you. Long story short, the poor guy ended up rear-ending the car in front of him because he tried to maintain eye contact with me while driving. I saw the whole thing and felt horrible. We all did. I wanted to go back and apologize, but we all figured that might make it worse and he’d had the choice to look away. I still feel awful and guilty anytime I think of that story. I hope the damage wasn’t major (it didn’t appear to be), I also hope that that incident taught that guy to keep a better eye on the road.
So although it’s not something I’d do anyway I will never ever flirt in a vehicle ever again. It doesn’t lead to anything good based on my own past experiences.
LESSON #3:
Chivalry – While this could refer to opening of car doors, etc. (which is in some cases alive and well), I’ll stick to providing some examples that revolve around car troubles. Be it the fact that I’m a female, or perhaps the fact that you will almost always find me in dresses and heels, or maybe I just look like I really need help in these type of situations? I can’t say that I’ve ever had car troubles without having people around who were willing to help, whether I needed their assistance or not. Yes, they are primarily male, but that’s who seems be better acquainted with the automobile. I’ve pretty much always had roadside assistance plans for all of my vehicles, so although I’m usually covered when it comes to qualified help with car troubles – we all know how long that can take at times to arrive, so the generous act of a willing-to-help-passerby is sometimes immensely appreciated and welcome.
Here are three examples where I encountered an abundance of this willingness to assist.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
Example #1 – Cracked Transmission: While I was still in college, I ended up cracking the transmission in my car while backing out of a driveway late one night. I fell off the curb, and hit the pavement pretty hard. All of us in the car figured I’d done some sort of damage, but none of us were sure what it was. The next day when I went to drive it, it was fine initially– but the longer I drove it, it began to get a little jerky. I had no idea what it was, so of course I called my dad (either he or my brother usually end up being my first phone call when it comes to car issues out of habit, even before boyfriends) to tell him what the car was doing and what had happened. He was in a different city so there wasn’t too much he could do other than tell me to take it to a mechanic and not take it to the dealer so that we wouldn’t get ripped off. So, in the meantime at school word had spread that I was having car issues and some of our guy friends and other guys I didn’t really know made an attempt at trying to diagnose the issue. I don’t know how familiar any of them were with car repair (they were quite the eclectic mix of creative types, surfers, regular college guys, etc.) , but I did appreciate the fact that they were trying to help. A couple of them did accurately say that it was the transmission that seemed to have a leak. I ended up taking it to Pep Boys which was down the street and having them diagnose it and sure enough it was the transmission. I ended up having to learn how to properly put in transmission fluid to keep replenishing the fluid that had been lost until the issue had been resolved. It was highly entertaining to have my guy friends trying to give me crash courses on common car problems and how to solve them during this whole experience, and this was obviously one instance when I really appreciated their efforts even if they really weren’t sure of what they were doing.
Example #2 - First Flat Tire: I think I’ve only had one real flat tire incident in my life (knock on wood) and I recall it vividly. I was driving on the freeway and all of a sudden, the road started feeling a little bumpy. My thought at the time was somewhat insolent and along the lines of, “Geez, they seriously need to re-pave this lane.” Then it got worse and all of a sudden I saw a stream of what looked like smoke trailing my car, and I realized my car was the one with the problem not the road. So, I had to maneuver my way from the fast lane to the shoulder of the road. I proceeded to call my dad and let him know what happened so he instructed me to get out of my car since I was next to the freeway, he didn’t want me to be in the car if anyone hit it and to call my roadside assistance. On that day we happened to be in the same town, so he said he’d head there as well.
I did as he said, getting out and proceeding to step to the other side of my car to a safer area to call roadside assistance. No sooner had I dialed the number when I turned around to see that 2 cars had already pulled over to see if I was ok. One was a car with three guys about my age (the driver thought he knew me and it turned out we did have friends in common as some of them rode motocross bikes together, but I didn’t know them), the second car belonged to a middle-aged gentleman.
They all volunteered to stay with me until roadside assistance arrived, as unfortunately none of them could safely change the tire as the flat was on the driver’s side and that was dangerously close to the freeway. So, wait with me they did.
A police officer pulled up to determine what the issue was, after this a series of events worthy of inclusion in a “Three Stooges” episode ensued. First, as the policeman approached us he ended up falling in a gopher hole and we all tried our hardest to hold back our laughter as he attempted to regain his composure and re-establish his sense of authority. As I was explaining that it was just a flat, and that I was waiting for roadside assistance to arrive a second policeman arrived, thinking maybe his buddy needed back-up.
Thankfully, the roadside assistance arrived finally followed immediately by my dad. Everyone else started to leave, since they weren’t really needed.
I can still remember the concerned expression that my father wore on his face as he approached me and my car. (more…)
BEHIND THE WHEEL: YOU HAVE ARRIVED AT YOUR DESTINATION (PART III OF IV)
In honor of the fact that my driver’s license is finally expiring after what seems like ages and since they didn’t just mail me a new one again like last time, I actually have to brave the DMV and a camera for a new photo (two of my least favorite activities) . Over the remainder of this week I’ll be sharing some of my adventures and lessons learned while behind the wheel. For Part I, which focuses on first car accidents and lessons learned, click here. For Part II, which focuses on the anticipation and impatience associated with the time right before you legally obtain a driver’s license as a teenager, click here.
Are you near a body of water? Do you see any tall buildings? Are planes flying overhead? Can you describe your surroundings? What is the weather like?
About a year ago or more, my ex-roommate and I jokingly and haphazardly came up with the premise for a new action genre film.. Obviously, we can’t give you all of the details and we’re sure that someone else has already thought of it as well or perhaps it has already been covered in a film—but they probably weren’t working with the level of confusion, exhaustion, and delirium that we were. I’m also fairly certain our imaginations could probably give theirs a run for their money. Actually, we’ll probably never develop it. So, if you feel you can do a good job with the basic storyline, it’s all yours. The general plotline involved being kidnapped via your GPS/Navigation system – I’ll allow you to piece together your own summer blockbuster from that.
This all came about due to the fact that my vehicle was at the mechanics– spending time as a temporary roommate with one of the original Dukes of Hazard cars–and I had asked her for a ride to some locations for work-related events that I had to oversee. Her navigation system proceeded to try to get us there via backstreets and what seemed to be alleys at times. If we didn’t find it so entertaining and weren’t too busy coming up with that idea and fleshing everything out by adding to the plotline with every mile we drove, we might’ve been more apprehensive of where we were being led as neither of us had ever been to this part of L.A. county. Eventually we made it to the site and it was one of multiple events that were going on simultaneously that I had to drop in at. Each event was located in yet another part of L.A. that we weren’t familiar with, leaving us continuously unsure if we were headed in the right direction.
How often are we actually headed in the right direction though? Overall in my life, I can’t say I’m necessarily headed in the right direction at all times, but I can definitely say that for the most part I’m headed in the direction I voluntarily want to go. Again, right or wrong may not always be completely obvious from the outset, but at least it’s my choice.
Now when it comes to driving, that’s a whole other story. I will openly admit that I have absolutely no sense of direction when I am behind the wheel, as I mentioned in yesterday’s Part II of this “Behind the Wheel” series that my younger brother got this gene, possessing an amazing sense of direction.
Sure, I can get from Point A to Point B without the help of a GPS/Navigation System; however just as easily I can get completely turned around in the most familiar of areas. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been lost in my life, often time resulting with a short trip quickly doubling or tripling the destination estimated arrival time. If we were in a court of law trying to verify this, I’d have to immediately declare myself as “Guilty,” due to the amount of friends/boyfriends etc. who have been witness to this that would in a heartbeat testify as well as provide incriminating depictions of the various times they’d been an unwilling accomplice to what a couple of my friends refer to as my “whimsical meanderings.” I’m not sure exactly where the whimsical part comes in as we don’t end up in some fantastic alternate universe. However, my saving grace is that I don’t really get bothered by these detours and therefore most of the time the “being lost” part ends up being so much more enjoyable than the “destination experience” that we were originally seeking. Unless, of course, we need to be somewhere by a specific time or are under a time crunch, then the experience takes on more of a hypertension-inducing fervor worthy of an “Amazing Race” episode than a leisurely drive in the countryside (confession, I’ve actually never seen that show and don’t even know if it’s still on – but in show promos they always appeared to be on a mission with a limited amount of time.). If there is no time constraint and I happen to get lost on my own, I sometimes actually enjoy it immensely as my life can sometimes feel so regimented and my days are constantly booked from morning to late evening that a slight disruption such as this can serve as a temporary respite from the go-go-go that I am usually immersed in.
I can’t even begin to tell you all of the stories of the various times that my destination has eluded me. Ranging from my only trip ever on the 91 Freeway, where I completely confidently stated that “in order to go West on the 91 Freeway you must first go East.” I don’t know if I’ve ever uttered words that were wiser, inaccurate yes I know – but still a very prolific statement if you ask me. Friends threatened to make t-shirts that said that, I’m still waiting for them to make good on that threat. There was also the time in college that I led a caravan of cars full of college friends to Valencia (or some other incorrect location) when our destination was Hollywood – don’t judge, I have no idea why everyone was following me to begin with. Then the most elusive location—my local “unicorn” or “loch ness monster” if you will– in Los Angeles of all, for some reason a few years ago I could never quite recall where exactly the Little Radio Warehouse was, despite the fact that we went there fairly regularly. It never failed, if I was driving I would completely blank out on its location. One day our adventure trying to locate it was so bad, that a guy friend that was with us finally became so fed up that he demanded to drive and so I was demoted to riding shotgun in my own vehicle.
Despite the fact that I think they are miracle-workers for the geographically challenged like me, I can’t quite let myself completely grow dependent on GPS/Navigation systems. I also hate reading maps. I like to say that I don’t know how to read maps; this is actually not really true. I can read a map (more…)
BEHIND THE WHEEL: JOYRIDES AND FOGGY NIGHTTIME NOTIONS (PART II OF IV)
In honor of the fact that my driver’s license is finally expiring after what seems like ages and since they didn’t just mail me a new one again like last time, I actually have to brave the DMV and a camera for a new photo (two of my least favorite activities) . Over the remainder of this week I’ll be sharing some of my adventures and lessons learned while behind the wheel. For Part I, which focuses on first car accidents and lessons learned, click here.
So today, I’ll focus on the anticipation, fun, and danger of what really makes first getting to drive so exciting and appealing. Let me just preface this column entry with the following, I was a good kid growing up and a good teenager (or as good as teenagers can be) as were my friends at the time (many of which I’m still friends with), so my parents didn’t have much to worry about when it came to me or my friends. Sure, we went to parties and stayed out past curfew, etc. but then I appeased all of that by getting good grades and not being too “angst-y” during these teenage years. Nothing too out of the ordinary, except for what they didn’t really know –which at the time we didn’t really think of it as being too dangerous, but in reality it could have been.
The day I could get my driver’s license couldn’t come fast enough for me. Out of the blue one day when I was twelve or thirteen my father decided to teach me how to drive. I give him major props for not showing any fear of losing his life while being in the same vehicle that a pre-teen me was behind the wheel of. In fact, if anyone has a teenager or even an adult that needs to learn how to drive, I’d send them over to my father who has nerves of steel and even more patience than I do (which for those of you that know me, is a lot). The best thing I remember him doing was pretending to sleep while I drove. At first, it’d freak me out a little and then it might’ve empowered me a little thinking “Wow. I must be doing a really good job, if dad trusts me to not kill us.” I remember him telling me the first time he did it something along the lines of, “Siria, I’m going to take a nap. If you want to kill us that is up to you, but I think we’ve each still got a lot left to do before either of us go.” All I could answer was “Ok.”
Yeah, ok no pressure right?
My mother was another story. She obviously was more fearful of her life. Heck, she had us and my younger brother to keep in order, so who could really blame her? She would refuse to ride any vehicle that I might be driving up until the time she deemed it completely necessary. Which came about the time that I was fifteen and a half and only after I’d: fulfilled the mandatory four Saturdays of Driver’s Ed (our school didn’t offer a Driver’s Education course option, so we had to take these at local driving schools—that doesn’t mean we were spared “Red Asphalt” though), had obtained my learner’s permit, and also put in the obligatory number of hours of behind-the-wheel with the driver instructor. Even then, it took her a while to stop telling me to “slow down” or to “check my mirrors” every five minutes or so. My favorite recollection was probably of her pumping the non-existent brake with her right foot while sitting in the passenger seat as I would near stop signs and stop lights. Somehow though, we all got through it and eventually I had my driver’s license.
However, there were those six months between having my permit and having a real driver’s license, where I’d decided that a permit was pretty much just like a driver’s license right? Especially if one of my other friends who also happened to have a permit was with me as well right? If one permit basically equaled a driver’s license, then with two permits we were totally in the clear, right? Right. We didn’t really believe that, but we decided that driving around together couldn’t really hurt.
Queue one of my best friends at the time, *Jennifer.
It all started with a party we wanted to go to, that didn’t even end up being a real party in the end. It was just some of our friends hanging out. It was a late night thing though and of course none of our parents would give us a ride there, nor allow us to stay out so late.
So we proceeded to come up with a plan, initially the only things that weren’t a variable in the plan were that we’d have to sneak out no matter what the plan was and that Jennifer would spend the night at my house. We contemplated our options, among which was calling other friends who already had their driver’s licenses and have one of them pick us up. However, we decided that we didn’t want to be stuck with anyone else and not be able to get back to my house before my parents woke up, at least not this first time. So we did the next best thing. We decided that the only thing we could do was sneak out in my truck (I had a car before I had my driver’s license—so, random I know).
Only, we didn’t know the first thing about sneaking a car out of a driveway, much less how to be completely silent. So we called up one of our guy friends that I’d known since elementary school, who happened to be with a bunch of our other guy friends. Their advice to us was to put it in neutral and then push it down the driveway. Two problems presented themselves fairly quickly. 1.) The truck was a big extended cab four wheel drive that we, being two teenage girls, definitely couldn’t push anywhere 2.) The driveway was flat, not at an incline – so it wasn’t that easy to get it to roll back and we were afraid it’d roll away from us and somehow crash into something like our fence. We decided not to push our luck. The guys volunteered to come get us, however by that point we’d just given up on going anywhere that night.
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
Given up that is, until I had the idea of covering up the sound by running the washer and dryer to hide the sound of the engine turning. This worked like a charm and soon we were off excitedly to the lame party. It really was as I mentioned not really a party, more like friends hanging out–which is what most parties are anyhow, right? So we hung out for a little bit and then saw the time, by that point we definitely should’ve been pumpkins at least a few times over. So back to my house we headed, when BOOM! Karma hit us in the form of a dense blanket of fog (for those of you that aren’t aware, due to all of the agriculture in Bakersfield it has a well-deserved reputation for having awful fog. It gets so bad that schools frequently have 2hr/3hr. fog delays (sometimes, albeit rare, resulting in school closures for the day) during the winter months. Anyhow, so we already knew we shouldn’t be driving to begin with, especially not at those hours of night, add to that the fear of getting caught and we pretty much wanted to pull over on the side of the road and start bawling and call my parents to come get us. Only, I thought about the consequences and we decided trying to make our way to my house while driving blindly in the fog was a better choice. Eventually we made it home; a fifteen minute drive took us probably over an hour.
Now, I’d like to say that we learned our lesson after that night, but I’d be lying. (more…)
BEHIND THE WHEEL: A FIRST CAR ACCIDENT, AND A BOY NAMED SHANNON
In honor of the fact that my driver’s license is finally expiring after what seems like ages and since they didn’t just mail me a new one again like last time, I actually have to brave the DMV and a camera for a new photo (two of my least favorite activities) . Over the remainder of this week I’ll be sharing some of my adventures and lessons learned while behind the wheel.
There are many memorable moments that we collect throughout our lives. A first car accident can be one of the more traumatizing ones. Surprisingly to all of you probably, I’ve actually only had 2 car accidents where I was behind the wheel. Actually three if you count the one where I crashed my dad’s car into our garage when I was 2 years old, but we’re not going to remind anyone (especially not my father) of that one.
The second more recent one was when I was 21. I was rear-ended while waiting for a red light to change by who I quickly learned was a professional NASCAR circuit race-car driver (Busch Series/Winston West Series). Had he been driving a regular car the damage would’ve been minor. However, he was driving a definitely higher than regulation lifted truck, so it completely smashed in my trunk—thankfully I was not injured. Due to trying to keep his insurance from skyrocketing and having any negative points appear on his driving record (as it was his livelihood), he instead asked if I would allow for my car to be repaired by his stock car maintenance team. Despite initial hesitation with that plan on my father’s part, we decided to try it letting him know that if the car wasn’t repaired in a satisfactory manner, we would be gong through the insurance company. In the end, the car was repaired and back in tip-top shape and so I was done with the world of race car driving—or so I thought. Somewhere along the way, the “race-car driver” had gotten used to checking in with me a couple of times a day about the progress of the car and while at the time I’d assumed it was because he was trying to keep me happy so that I wouldn’t sue (the thought actually hadn’t even crossed my mind, as all I wanted was my car fixed). However, once I started receiving flowers from him and also his phone calls and voice-mails continued months after my car was fixed, I soon realized that was not the case and that he perhaps had mistakenly come to the conclusion that we’d made some sort of love connection despite the small fact that he was married. He had no way of knowing that my nature is generally to be nice to most everyone, even people who rear-end me at stoplights. I ended up ignoring him and eventually he went away. I actually hadn’t thought much about this incident in recent times; however, I recently dug up an old cell phone as I was trying to find an old friend from college’s phone number that hadn’t transferred over to my newer phones and came across his phone number. It took me a second to recall who that was. I wonder what became of that guy; I don’t wonder enough to Google him though.
My first car accident brought with it a bonus lesson that I’ve never really forgotten. For this one I was 17 years old. This one occurred on a gray drizzly day as I was heading home after school, possibly contributing to my abhorrence of overcast days. Once again I was at a stop, this time at a stop sign when a small SUV careened into my car. It seemed as though the driver had swerved trying to avoid a pothole and somehow ended up overcorrecting and sideswiping the front end of my passenger side (I didn’t have a passenger with me). After making contact with my car, his car went on to hit the electric pole on the corner as well. Once again, I was thankfully ok aside from being a little shook up. All I could think, was my parents are going to kill me even though the accident was clearly not my fault.
I recall the people that lived in the corner house running out to see what happened. I learned that they were kids (a brother and sister) who went to my high school. I ended up staying inside of their house until the police and my dad arrived. They were super-empathetic and comforting during a scary experience. However, although the whole experience was surreal at the time, I do recall wondering why the younger girl seemed so excited to have me in her house. Despite the fact that the last thing I wanted to do at that moment was talk to anyone, her incessant chatter and questions proved to be somewhat comforting and helped me get my mind off of what had just happened for at least a little bit. I learned that the girl was a freshman and the boy was a junior. At that time I was a senior. I was surprised that I didn’t know him. They both seemed to know me, or at least know who I was as when I thanked them for allowing me to wait inside their home after calling my dad I introduced myself expecting that since I didn’t recognize them that we didn’t know each other and thought that maybe they went to a neighboring school.
The boy’s response completely caught me off guard, as it as a cold almost angry one (more…)
THE GIRLS OF SUMMER…
Summer Time Fun – now – Let’s just go over the Rules Again!
It’s been way too long since I’ve written, but so many days in summer – so little time. I’ve kind of been enjoying the days a little more than I should, but still there are things to be noticed, things to be shared. I’ve kind of enjoyed sitting back and watching the summer unfold for once. The only part of summer that I’ve really recognized as per usual, is the eternal interacting between the boys and girls again. Remember the boys of summer? Well the fantastic part of the boys of summer is that it turns out there are some girls of summer as well. I’ve been surrounded by them! It’s awesome. Finally – the battle of the sexes has been defeated and all is fair in love and war once again.
I’ll re-cap the “Boy of Summer” for you. It’s the guy, (or guys, let’s not be shy) that capture your attention for a few months in the summer time. Sometimes it’s love – sometimes it’s not – ok – most times it’s not but it’s always hilariously fun and has endless possibilities. You know – until it doesn’t and then everyone gets to go home to start planning…whatever, Thanksgiving? The point is – every summer should have one. Even if it’s an innocent flirtation that goes nowhere and just stays in your day dreams or your drunken text messages, the point is it’s FUN!
Well, as it would turn out there’s “Girls of Summer” too!? Who would have thought? The reason I know this is because I’ve been around a bunch of these “girls” this summer. The only little difference is that there are more rules for the girls than there are for the boys. Not rules – not like – What’s that, Miss Manners-name? No – No – No. It’s a little different. There’s a playbook that if you want to be a good girl of summer you have to follow. I believe I’ll get crucified for spilling the beans – but I’m going to do it anyway. I have nothing to lose and summer is almost over.
So the way it works is this, the more men you flirt with the more options you have to meet more men. Fixating on one – should not be an option for summer, that’s for the Fall – but not for summer months. Did I mention that shameless flirting is a good thing? Great – point number one is over. The other thing I’ve noticed is that a lot of ladies are heading to the internet to find these boys of summer. That’s perfectly acceptable. Why not – once more – the more men you meet the more options you have. It’s what I call the grown up version of “bar encounters/boys of summer.”
Next up – is getting out of your own environment. You have to – because well, there are more options. It’s like swimming in the same pool every weekend. Same pool – same people. It’s not that you don’t like that pool or those people – but sometimes going to a pool that you’ve never been to before has the better sun!? You got me folks? Making new friends takes a little laughing, a little talking and a couple of beers. Ladies – try it. Trust me it works.
The other thing that’s kind of essential is a good wingman. I’m probably not being PC when I call them a wing man – but I like Top Gun and I’m not PC so I’m going with it. The point is, you need a good spotter and person to cover your ass. The spotter (wingman) makes first contact for you – because let’s face it girls – most times are friends are better at making initial contact and introductions than we are for ourselves. Plus – you’ve got to get the conversation started and two girls to one guy has better odds for conversation. If they can withstand the verbal jousting of two females then you are in good shape for conversation. It’s kind of like the test – if they can’t speak to both of you, they probably have a hard time talking in general…and then that’s a long night!!! Better to know now.
Also when your wingman is covering your ass, she knows when to step in and say, either your lipstick is on your teeth, your skirt is tucked in your underwear, NO – you can’t leave with that guy with the knife in his back-pocket, or my favorite: my car broke down – I need YOU to give ME a ride home RIGHT NOW!!!
Lastly – no attachments can be made immediately. This is a conversation I’ve had repeatedly with a few of my girl-friends. The point is fun. Doing something different, trying something new. Getting out and not settling for the first thing to tell you in a drunken slur – “BUT I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU”. There are places to go, bars to stumble into and many-many new friends to meet.
The time has come ladies for all of us to embrace our inner boy – and I call it boy because boys are so flighty and quick to pick up and move it along – I think some of us have been doing it wrong for way too long. Have a good time this summer. Look for some fun and enjoy it. Before you know it, summer is over and the only thing you are looking forward to is cooking a Turkey or a ToFurkey.
Get your kicks – while the sun is still up and the lights stay on longer!
xox – Ms Amanda Jones
photo originally published here
EVERY MILE A MEMORY…
I had a friend come into town for a few days. On one of the nights that she was here she and another of our friends who resides in Orange County decided they were going to go out in Hollywood. I unfortunately had another commitment that I couldn’t get out of and couldn’t join them. Halfway through the night they called completely lost, trying to find a bar/club– in all fairness this place is a little hidden. They had the address, but couldn’t find it anywhere. I asked them what they were near and then they told me. I knew they’d gone too far because I happened to know the address of one of the places they’d just driven past, The Key Club. I then told them they needed to head back in the opposite direction and gave them some other landmarks along with the addresses so they’d know what their destination was near. They only had to call me back for re-directions once more and eventually they got to the place they were looking for and had a good time.
The next morning we all went to breakfast and I was asked how on earth I remembered those addresses. I actually have a pretty good memory, but before I could explain how I recalled those addresses my good friend shrieked to our other friend “Oh my god! Has Siria ever told you about how she remembers things by what she outfit she was wearing?!!! She remembers everything! Siria tell her!!!” This may sound weird, but this is true sort of, and if you are good friends with me then you know this already. If you aren’t, I’ll explain the outfit thing in a minute.
Everyone has their own memory tricks and perhaps you use mnemonic devices like acronyms or rhymes? Mine is a little different, but I’m sure just as common. So before you start thinking that I have Savant syndrome (think Rain Man) my ability to recall something is almost usually only as good as my ability to visualize it, and usually that serves me well as I have a pretty good memory.
For example the way I recalled the Key Club address wasn’t very complicated. We put shows on there on a monthly basis for a little over two years, so I constantly had to give that address out. However, the way I recall it still is by either visualizing an old flier advertising a show there or an email blast that had the address on it. Most of the clubs ( Three Clubs, Lava Lounge, The Echo, Safari Sams, Spaceland, Zen Sushi, etc.) that we put shows on at I can remember the addresses to in this manner. El Cid was a little harder for me for some reason, but one day I came across a photo of a friend that was taken during one of our shows and right above his head is a close-up of the address, so after that anytime I needed to recall that address I just visualized that photo.
I remember on long (or even short ones sometimes) car trips, I used to try to memorize license plates of the vehicles on the road. (more…)