People ask me all the time if having a birthday on New Years Eve sucks or not. I'm here to tell you today that it most definitely does not. I don't think I've met someone who didn't feel like partying on my birthday, so for that reason it's nice.
Who I feel really bad for are all those people born on the 1st of January. Who wants to go out drinking on national hangover day? Your birthday is completely steamrolled by the celebration of my birthday. So suck on that. (I actually have a friend, Johnny, who was born on the 1st. He just hosts a hungover pizza party every year at his place. I say that's pretty cool)
So here we are. A new year. The year of the rabbit. That's me! That means this year is going to be my year. I can feel it. As we toasted our champagne before the party last night, my roommates and I each went around and summed up our 2010 experience for each other. All I could really remember of 2010 was that I
1.) Broke my foot
2.) Graduated from college
3.) Moved to Chicago
Of course those are the most nuttiest of shells... But truly, the year kind of just flew right past me. If feels like it was last week that I hung that temporary handicap placard on my rearview mirror and hobbled across campus to Audition Technique at 8 in the God damn morning.
It's not to say that 2010 flew past me and was a complete wash. I definitely think the last half of the year, the moving to Chicago part, was an eye opening experience. I figured out how to be an adult and start my career and even put a few building blocks in place. I know I have more structural work to get done, but I laid a pretty good framework thus far. I am proud of myself.
Aw... Interjection time: We are currently cat sitting for our downstairs neighbor while she's out of town. I am, for the most part, allergic to cats so I like to keep them out of my room and off of my furniture as much as possible. As I was typing this out I heard a soft meow and looked back at my bedroom door and two little white paws were sticking out of the bottom. DAWWWWWWW! I'm such a sucker for that shit. I hate cats but those two little paws clawing at the ground makes my heart melt.
There are 2 of these cats, brothers I think, and they are that black and white spotted breed that happens to look like Hitler. Do you know what I'm talking about? This website actually calls them Kitlers. Haha. Get it? Ah, hilariously racistly cute. Anyway, one of them has a thicker black spot under his nose so I call him Groucho and the other one is skinnier and has a smaller black spot so I call him Hitler. He's also the meaner of the two. A real asshole of a cat. I hope he commits suicide when he realizes Ms Kitty and her army of allies have him surrounded in Becky's room.
Want to hear a hilarious story about my hellacious experience with Delta Airlines? Of course you do! I'll try to keep it short.
So I had unfortunately scheduled my flight out of New York after Christmas for the day after that huge snowstorm hit. My mom's house got around 14 inches. NYC got a little over 20. It was insane. Not only this, but I booked with what I have experienced to be the worst airline possible.
First of all: In the morning when I found out that my flight had been cancelled, thanks to Delta.com, I tried to reschedule online-- This turned out to be impossible because the only options to choose from were that day and the next, both of which had no flights listed. So it says at the bottom if I'm experiencing trouble to just call them. I called and got this message: "Due to extreme weather conditions we cannot take your call right now. Please rebook with Delta.com" NO. NO. I cannot rebook with your dumb website because there are no options! Give me a human to talk to please! I mean the phone didn't even ring for Christ's sake. It went straight to this message. So around this time I called my Dad to complain. He told me all I could really do was keep calling until someone answered. But get THIS. My Dad calls me back and he says he had an agent on the phone I could talk to. So he patched me in and she rescheduled my flight for Thursday... I was supposed to leave on Monday but understood that everything was backed up because of this blizzard. But here's the kicker. I asked my Dad how he even got the phone to ring. He told me he used my step mother's Delta Sky Mile's number with some other phone number service they offer. So basically unless you are a Sky Mile's member... DON'T mess with Delta. I'd still be in New York right now calling their damn phone line that doesn't ring like all the regular Joe Schmoes.
Secondly: Once I got tot he airport, for some stupid reason I got super excited to see on my self check-in screen that they would check my bag for free. Flying with other airlines they charge $25 for each bag. That's $50 round trip. So I only ever pack a carry on because I'm poor. No... Not because I'm poor, but because I don't want to spend my money on something so silly. These airlines suck enough money out of us already. So anyway, yeah, got excited. so I clicked the button and rejoiced that I wouldn't have to lug my bag around while making my connection in Detroit. Let me say this though, my pessimism unfortunately didn't get the best of me. As I punched the screen I thought to myself, "What if I make it there and my bag doesn't?" Wouldn't you guess that's EXACTLY what happened? That's right. After a long day of sitting on tarmacs, burning jet fuel because we're overweight restrictions, getting a splitting headache from the lack of food I ate the entire day, I get to Midway and everyone from my flight picks up their shit at baggage claim and I stand there like a sad sack of buffoon waiting... waiting... waiting. I almost cried when the lady behind the baggage service desk told me I could wait for an hour and a half if I wanted. To give her some credit, she was really pleasant and helpful. I was the one being the crab apple. So yeah, I decided to have them deliver it to me because all I wanted to do was get home and eat and sleep. I had this plan to stop at 7-11 on the walk from the train and get a couple of taquitos so I could eat as I walked so I didn't lose anytime on my schedule to pass the hell out. So the guy calls me hours later, tells me he's going to deliver my bag. This was at 9:20pm. I was out at Susan's. When I came home after midnight, my bag still wasn't there. I decided that because my head was still throbbing from the original headache that I would worry about this in the morning. Well, wouldn't you know it? Morning came (My birthday) and my bag was there... SOAKED. I mean SOPPING WET. Everything. Wet and smelly from sitting in a bag all night. Not only that but there's disgusting black skid marks all over my purple duffel, it looks completely ruined to tell you the truth. Not something that throwing it in a washing machine could fix.
Oh. And what about the taquitos? Well, I bought four, shoved three in my mouth and dropped the last one in a puddle. WAY TO GO CAROL!
So for those reasons I will never give Delta my money again.
Okay. Complaining is done. Time to start 2011 off right... by continuing this day long binge of food and mimosas.
Peace and love my babies,