The Were-Gay

Hi everyone!  I wanted to wish everyone a happy holidays and a great new year!  I’m sorry I haven’t posted in so long, I’ve been incredibly busy doing training for my job and overall dealing with crazy people (I have several posts planned).

This post is a prequel to a post I will be posting later this week.  Alex and I have a joke about were-gays, which are were-wolves but not quite.  The story I was going to tell involves that joke, but since it would be kind of hard to explain without this story, Alex has graciously offered to write this post regarding the origin of the were-gay, so I can tell the awesome hilarious story later on.  So without further adieu, I hope you enjoy Alex’s writing 🙂

Having been a long time reader of my wife’s post (this is definitely said without her looking over my shoulder), I wanted to give the first-view perspective to a situation that happened to me. I hope you enjoy.

I once had a group of friends that would get together and shoot the breeze with. It was a great group of people and I miss them greatly. One of them (for the sake of protecting the innocent we will call her Amber) was a particularly violent lesbian who was also an army recruiter. She was by far my favorite as all of her stories were over the top and hilarious from my point of view. I’d still be supportive to her plights, but MAN was she funny to listen to.

During one particular story she was talking about funny double standards in dealing with gay recruits. Recruiters will often transport an applicant to several locations to in-process the individual. It is a huge taboo with recruiters (apparently) to transport applicants of the opposite gender anywhere. This is a good rule in making sure that no one is being taken advantage of and keeps people safe.

The one drawback to this is when the applicant happens to be gay. In the happenstance of the applicant being a gay male and the recruiter being a hetero male, this causes “strife”.

I know why this is probably the case, but I go ahead and ask Amber why.

“Because none of the other recruiters want to be alone in the car with these gay guys,” she groans, her eyes almost rolling out of her head onto the floor.

I’m genuinely intrigued by the statement. “So they think these men can’t get through a car ride without hitting on them?”

“You should hear these guys,” she laughed, “they honestly start to panic when they have to take him somewhere. They’re convinced he’s going to overpower them on the car ride.”

At this point I start to laugh, and when I say laugh I mean that kind of laugh where you start at a chuckle and slowly evolve into a full-blown “I-can’t-breathe-please-stop-me-before-I-hyperventilate” state of mind. I’m holding my sides and laughing while Amber is chuckling but also wondering why I’ve suddenly lost my marbles.

When I finally catch my breath I let her in on the little secret. It was a scenario that played out like this…

Two men, an army Tech Sergeant and a hopeful recruit, sit quietly in a car driving on the freeway. The radio playing a country song that neither man is listening to. The sergeant drives, hoping to keep conversation to a minimum as to avoid any awkward situations. The recruit keeps his silence and looks straight ahead.

Suddenly, the full moon looms overhead and the recruit clutches his chest in pain. He screams in agony and doubles over in pain against his seat belt. The recruiter is at a loss and begins to panic at the situation.

“Are you ok?!” the recruiter yells, hoping against all odds that this is not as bad as it looks.

“I…can’t…fight it…” the recruit manages to gasp in painful breaths.


The recruit looks the sergeant, his eyes a tinted yellow and wolf-like. He licks his lips and bears his now canine teeth. A mad look of hunger and desire are apparent behind those inhumane eyes.

“…I NEED THAT DICK!!!”

With that the were-gay lunges from his seat while the sergeant is helpless whilst driving the vehicle. In an unnatural move of dexterity and super-gayness the recruit rips off that sergeants pants and jams his cock right in his mouth. The were-gay howls in delight, his howl of course coming out unclear with all the man meat in his supernatural jaws.

So yeah, that’s what ran through my mind at the thought of that. Of course it’s silly for me to think that’s actually true. Pretty ridiculous, right?

…although I’ve never seen a werewolf and a gay man in the same room together…

Have you ever been subjected to werewolves?  Do you know people who think that this is how homosexuality is caused?  Do you have a similar hilarious story?  Let me know in the comments!

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Four Years A Bride: How I Almost Died

Part 1      Part 2

After dating Alex about a month, we had already told each other the dreaded L word.  I was sleeping over at his place every day, and nights that I wasn’t at his house, we were texting each other all night because we couldn’t sleep without the other one.  When I worked on base, he would walk to my work, pick up my car, fill it up and go grocery shopping to make sure I ate my veggies.

If there was a rare occasion that we both had a day off, we spent it in his dorm room watching movies and cuddling.  I had been in love once before, but never like this.  It was intoxicating.  When we were together, I felt complete and at peace, when we were apart, I ached for him in a way I never knew a person could ache for someone.

Once a year I would fly home to Minnesota to visit my family, always on my mom’s dollar because I was poor.  She would fly me home, I’d see the dentist and any other medical check ups I needed, mom would take me clothes shopping, my friends would throw a party and we’d either get drunk or just hang out, and so on.  This trip, I remember a very distinct conversation with my mom about my relationship with Alex.

I told her that I was going to marry Alex.  I just knew that I was going to marry him.  Alex and I started joking about it after two weeks of dating, saying “if we get married.”  When the one month mark hit, we were saying “When we get married” and neither of us corrected the other.

My mom told me that I needed to wait at least six months so I could get to know him.  She said that I needed to be careful because he could be someone who is abusive, and to be fair, she made a lot of really good points.  The points she made, honestly, are points I make to people when they mention marriage after knowing someone for a year.

But I was 20 years old, I thought I knew everything.  I told her that we were going to get married probably in June, and while he hadn’t proposed yet, I knew he was thinking of doing it, he had told me as much.

But not this romantic

But not this romantic

My mom tried to talk me out of it and she said she wanted to meet him before I considered marrying him and that we should plan a trip to visit all of our families before getting married, but we lived in Alaska and he was newly enlisted, he was just as broke as I was.    But as always, my mom knew best, and her advice was really solid advice.  But I just didn’t want to listen.

I got my wisdom teeth taken out two days before I flew back to Minnesota, and the day after I was so high on pain meds that I didn’t remember my brother sitting with me on the couch singing Rocky Horror Picture Show.  Nor do I remember my step dad talking to me, or anything.  I do remember yelling at my mom that I wanted a hamburger smoothie and that I had to have Greek yogurt, to which she laughed and told me to shut the hell up.

The day I flew back to Alaska, Alex was going to meet me at the airport.  He had my car, after all.  When I landed in Fairbanks, I was still a little out of it from the meds, but I saw him at the baggage claim, standing there with a worried look on his face.  When he saw me, he opened his arms and I ran to him, refusing to let go of him.  There were a few people there cooing and awing, but we had only been apart a week, and to us, it felt like an eternity.

We got my suitcase and went back to his dorm.  We fell asleep holding hands.

The next morning I had to go back to Fairbanks to find out when I was supposed to work at the deli, and I knew that I had to work that night at the bowling alley, but I was still kind of out of it.  I had to take a Vicodin the night before and I don’t think it was completely out of my system.  I was also jet lagged.  That day, it was mid-January and it was -44 outside with drifting snow.

I was a fearless driver, never afraid of speeding and never afraid of anything happening to me because come on, nothing bad ever happens to me.  I was naïve.

I fell asleep behind the wheel for an instant, going 65 on the highway with drifting snow.  When I woke up, I saw I was going head first into a snow bank, I overturned, spun out of control, and my car flipped and landed in the ditch.

It all happened so fast that I didn’t even realize what was happening.  The car was spinning then suddenly I was upside down, the roof of my car had caved in and was nearly touching my head, the engine turned off, stuff was everywhere, and I was staring at a St Christopher medal that was on my visor.  I saw cars driving by, I saw the snow falling, and the seatbelt was causing me pain for restraining me in my chair.

I actually never saved the picture of my flipped car, but it looked pretty much like this.

I actually never saved the picture of my flipped car, but it looked pretty much like this.

I remembered I started screaming, but it seemed so far away.  I didn’t feel like I was in my body because I was so scared.  I remember seeing a woman a few feet away from my window, looking in to the window.  I started to pound on the window, screaming for help and she ran away.  I was trapped upside down, unable to move, my body paralyzed with fear.  I found my phone somehow and dialed the last number I had called.

It was Alex.

He picked up on the second ring, a little bit of fun in his voice.  “Did you butt dial me?” he said with a chuckle.

“OH MY GOD ALEX I JUST FLIPPED MY CAR AND I’M TRAPPED AND I’M SCARED AND I’M UPSIDE DOWN AND I JUST PAID OFF THIS CAR AND CUT THE INSURANCE LAST WEEK OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO DIE!”

Let me tell you, not the best way to go about this kind of situation.  I could only scream.  I remember him trying to calm me down and say it without screaming and I continued to be hysterical, screaming that I was probably going to die because it was -44 outside that day and I was in the ditch somewhere between North Pole and Fairbanks.   Oh, and because I was trapped upside down.  Can’t forget that bit.  The blood was going to my head.

He said he was going to hang up and have the dispatcher call me.  I cried that I didn’t want him to hang up and he did.  A few minutes later a dispatcher called me and told me to stay calm.  In the few minutes where I was waiting for my phone to ring, I pushed myself up into my seat and unclasped the seatbelt and slid to the roof of my car, laying on the ceiling, no longer upside down.  The dispatcher asked me if I was okay, and I told her no because I had just paid off the car and cut the insurance.  She asked me if I was physically injured and I told her no.

However, when you have that much adrenaline, you don’t feel anything.  The fire department, an ambulance, and the state troopers arrived and they asked me if I could crawl to the back seat and climb out the back window.

I had so much shit in my car that I couldn’t leave the front seat.  They asked me if I had a blanket to cover my face and I pulled it over and covered my face while they used a sledge hammer to break the window.  The pulled the blanket away from me and placed it over the broken glass while I crawled out the window.

Since this day was a horrible day, my ass got stuck in the window.  Since I was still hysterical from flipping my car and being totally fucking broke, I started screaming because my ass was trapped in that fucking car.  I think the responders were trying not to laugh at my yelling, “OH MY GOD MY ASS IS STUCK! I’M GOING TO DIE!”

I got into the ambulance and they gave me a once over, making sure I still had feeling in my legs and arms, checking my blood pressure, which was 180 over 120.  Apparently that’s really fucking high.

My eyes were fully dilated, I was shaking, I was cold, but I was alive.  They told me if I hadn’t of worn my seatbelt, I’d be dead.  If it had been summer and there was no snow to cushion the fall, the car would have compressed more and I would have died, if the glass had shattered in the right way, it would have blinded me.  All the conditions were perfect for me to come out injury free for the most part.

As they were telling me this, I realized my hand feel really warm.  I looked down and saw that it was covered in warm blood.  Since my adrenaline was still ridiculously high, I screamed “OH MY GOD I’M BLEEDING TO DEATH!”

A small piece of glass was taken out of my hand and they put a band aid on it, cleaning the blood off.  The cut didn’t even need stitches, but my blood pressure was so high that it was flying out of me.

They asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital, but I didn’t have health insurance so I couldn’t afford it.  They called a tow truck and I waited in the troopers car.  I got my phone and called Alex, telling him I was fine and I was broke and had no idea what to do.  I called my mom and got her voicemail, telling her to call me when she promised to not get mad.  I called my roommate to tell her that I got into an accident and I was okay.  I called my managers at each job and told them that I couldn’t work that day because I had no transportation because I totaled my car.

When my mom called me, she said she wouldn’t get mad.  She promised.  And I told her I flipped and totaled my car. She asked me if I was hurt, I said no.  Then she started to scream at the top of her lungs.  I almost dropped the phone.

The tow truck driver yelled at me because the key was missing from the ignition, but I had no idea where it had fallen.  I thought it was in the engine.  To this day, I have no idea where that key went.  They towed the car to the house I was staying at, and I did the one thing that I had wanted to do since the car started spinning out of control.

I really had to shit.

That whole, “Always wear clean underwear when you get into a car accident,” is no lie.  My god, since the moment the car went upside down, it was painful to hold in.  It was so fucking insane, I was so relieved to see a toilet.  There is no greater happiness than seeing a toilet after you total your car.

Hello beautiful... I am going to destroy you

Hello beautiful… I am going to destroy you

My coworker at the bowling alley offered to pick me up and take me to the Air Force Base to see Alex, and I really needed to work.  I went into work, letting Alex know I was on base, and told my manager that I wanted to work my shift after all.

She said I was fucking crazy.  And she was right.  I should not have worked.

Now one thing, when I flipped the car, I almost died.  I saw my life flash before me, but not like seeing all these things that I had done.  I saw all the things I didn’t do.  All the things I wanted to do in my life.  I saw Alex in a way I never saw him before.  I saw myself growing old with him, I saw him not just as my boyfriend, but as my companion, my husband, my soul mate.  When I was trapped upside down, all I thought through all of that, besides emptying my bowels, was, “If I get out of this alive, I have to tell Alex I love him.”  Alex and I had talked marriage, but I didn’t realize just what that entailed, and after flipping my car and nearly dying, I realized exactly what that meant.  I didn’t want to spend another day without Alex.  I wanted to grow old with him.  I wanted to wake up next to him every day, to fight with him, to buy a house together.  I wanted all that mushy stuff.  I was tired of moving every few months, I was tired of working two full time jobs just to make ends meet.  I was tired of being so lonely.  I was tired of being so damn strong.  I wanted to be able to lean on someone, even if just for an instant.  I wanted Alex to be with me for the rest of my life, and I realized at that moment exactly what that entailed.

As soon as he found out I was at work, he had the troll drive him to the bowling alley.  When he saw me, he went from walking to full blown sprinting. I didn’t even see him enter the building, but my manager did, and she started giggling when she saw him run.  He tackled me, squeezing me so tight I coucouldn’teathe.  He touched my face, he felt to make sure I wasn’t hurt, he kissed me.  He was almost in tears.

To say the least, I found out he felt the same way.

I was only able to work a few hours of my shift.  When the adrenaline calmed down, I was so dizzy that I nearly passed out.  I was trying not to cry.  I was so incredibly exhausted that I didn’t know what was going to happen to me.  My coworker said she’d cover the rest of my shift and my manager said it was okay for me to leave.  I was going to walk to Alex’s dorm, which was about a quarter of a mile away, but my coworker called her husband and had him drive me the short distance.  He offered to walk me to the door, but I said no and walked myself.

When I got to Alex’s dorm, he just sat and held me as I started to cry.  I had no idea what was going to happen.  I couldn’t afford a new car.  I could barely afford my rent.  Alex wasn’t allowed to live off base so we couldn’t get an apartment together unless we got married.  I was afraid of what the coming months had in store for me.

The next day my body was so sore and stiff that I couldn’t even move.  It hurt just to sit up.  So I called into work and my manager had already given my shift away because she knew I’d be sore.  Alex didn’t have a car, and since he’s an asshat in situations like this, he made me walk all over base to get anything I’d need for the next few days.  That was the most painful day of my life.

A week later I was back to working both jobs, taking a taxi to work or having my friend pick me up to go to the base.  My mom gave me a loan of cash to buy a ’97 Buick LeSabre, which I drove for two years.  When I went back to work at Safeway, my manager told me that I was no longer dependable and that I needed to quit or she’d find a way to fire me.

But Alex came to the rescue…

 

Have you ever almost died?  Have you ever been in a situation where you were given an ultimatum?  Did your significant other ever save your life?  Let me know in the comments!

Four Years A Bride: The First Date

Alex and I had a strange start.  He was kind of a stalker, and after that email, he would text me frequently to get to know me more, something that I found more annoying than anything.  I hate using my cell phone.  More often than not, I forget I have the damn thing.

But he wanted to date me, and I had to give him credit, he did not give up.

Never gonna give you up

Never gonna give you up

When it came close to the first date, two of my coworkers stated that they wanted to see who it was that I was going to go on a date with.  They were convinced he was a serial killer, but when I said the date was in his dorm, they calmed down.  You see, on a military base, if you yell SARC, ten people will come to your aid and whomever you’re yelling SARC about will automatically be detained until further investigation.  Kind of, guilty until proven innocent for sexual assault.

Which was perfect since I was going to be hanging out in his bedroom for our date.

He asked me to drive to his dorm, which was around a quarter of a mile away.  It was in Alaska, in the middle of winter, and I told him that if he wanted to go out with me, he’d walk to the bowling center to meet me.  Twenty minutes later he walked in the door and asked me if I was ready to go.

“Hang on, my friends want to meet you,” I had told him.  He walked right over to them and started talking to them.

“Hey there!  I’m taking this beautiful girl to my dorm to cook her some stir fry and watch a movie, is that okay with you?”

To say the least, my friends were stunned.  They had expected him to be fairly nonchalant and just give a wave, but he called me beautiful, he sort of asked their permission, and he told them exactly what was planned.  They approved.

They were shocked he was so gentlemanly

They were shocked he was so gentlemanly

So we got into my car and went to the commissary to get the stuff needed for chicken stir fry, when we ran into a girl Alex had recently taken on a date.  She was a year younger than me and when she saw Alex with me, she started to send him nasty texts and gave me a dirty look.  He informed me that after a week of dating she was trying to make plans with him that were six months to a year in advance.  I couldn’t help but laugh, calling him a heart breaker.

We got to his dorm and I sat in his kitchen, watching him cook, while he told me about himself.  I saw that he was better looking than I had first realized, that he was just really forward because he’s just.. well, very forward.  He was the third of seven kids total in his family, his parents were divorced when he was six years old, same as me, he was raised everywhere, he went to culinary school before he was in the military, and he wanted to be a responsible adult.

I couldn’t help but respect him more and more throughout the entire date.

When he finished cooking the food, he leaned in, less than an inch from my face, and I think he was going to say something snarky, but I kissed him instead.  Just a peck, but it surprised both of us.

That night, we watched “Yes Man,” where he explicitly pointed out the scene where Jim Carrey said, “Your furniture looks great form the yard.”  And since I had been working so much that week, halfway through the movie I ended up falling asleep.  I woke up under the covers, Alex wearing a pair of pajama bottoms, and his arm around me.

“I didn’t want to wake you up, is it okay if I just hold you?” he had asked me sweetly.

I told him sure and passed out.  The next morning he gave me coffee in bed and I dropped him off at work, and I went to my job at the deli, thinking about that really weird date.

The day before our second date, he went to the bowling center to get a bite to eat.  I had told my coworkers about the date and when he walked in, my friend E ran up to him and said, “ARE YOU LEAH’S BOYFRIEND NOW?!”

He was shocked at her outward display of curiosity, and he responded the only way he could think to.

“Oh I hope so.  I really like her.”

She texted me and told me that, and I felt better.  When I saw him the next day, I had him recount that conversation.  After he told it to me, he turned to me and said, “So, am I being hopeful?  Are you my girlfriend?  Please be my girlfriend.”

That was December 10th, 2010.  And I said yes.  So we were dating.

 

Fear not, how I ended up getting a wedding ring will be next in this saga.  What was your first date like with your significant other?  Was it awkward or awesome?  Let me know in the comments!

Dat Fine Ass

So this happened.

Me: Alex, I may have to leave you.

Alex: Alright, I’ll bite.  What happened?

Me: All these sweet talkers are just sweeping me off my feet.

Alex: Oh?  What are they saying?

Me: Twice today, I had someone say to me, “Damn girl, dat ass is fine.”

Alex: Oh man.

Me: I know, right?  How do I resist the charms of “Dat ass is fine?”  Also, “Damn girl, gimmie yo’ number.”

Alex: I totally understand if you leave.  I can’t compete with that.

Me:  They must have been pretty confident too, considering nobody would even stand up when they hit on me.

Alex:  Damn, I have no idea how I can ever compete with that.

Me: I know.  I’m sorry, but those sweet talkers are just too irresistible.

Alex: Did they even mention dem tits?

Me: Nope, just dat ass.

Alex: What did they do when you said you were married?

Me: Well, one guy just got up and left.  No sorry, no apology, nothing.  Second I said married, he walked out.  The other guy said, “Well damn girl, if that ever changes you look me up.”

Alex:  Well at least they gave up once you pulled the marriage card.

Me: Yeah, because apparently touching a married woman is worse than telling them about dat fine ass.

Alex: Obviously.

Why He’s The Bra Guru: A Marital Dispute

In honor of save the tatas month, I have decided to write a post about my boobs.  And about how Alex and I have the same fight all the time.  Here’s a snippet of this particular fight.

Me: Hey, Alex?  For the love of God, stop grabbing my boobs.

Alex: But that’s what they’re there for.  That’s my God given right for being your husband.  I get to grab boobs all the time.

Me: But you’re breaking the wires in my bras trying to go under the bra.  And you’re stretching out the cups so they don’t keep their shape.

Alex: Then stop wearing bras. Problem solved. Now let’s move on to something more difficult like the Ebola crisis.

Me: NO!  If I stop wearing bras, then my boobs will get saggy.

Alex: I’ll just hold up your boobs. Check mate.

Except it's my boobs.

Except it’s my boobs.

Me: You can’t just walk around behind me holding my boobs up all day.

Alex: I’ll do it for you, as a sign of my undying love. Challenge accepted!

Me: THIS IS NOT A CHALLENGE!

LIKE A BOSS

LIKE A BOSS

Alex:  I’m not the sole reason they break. After all, your bras wouldn’t break all the time if you didn’t wear them.

Me: My bras wouldn’t break if you would stop grabbing my boobs all the time.

Alex: I don’t get why you wear bras all the time anyway.  They always break after five months or so.

Me: They would last a year if you stopped grabbing my boobs!

Alex: Well, you’ve established that I’m your “bra guru”, I’ll help you find new ones when the time comes.

Me: The time comes way sooner than it should since you keep breaking them!

Alex: But I am driven by a desire to grab boobs, and I have sworn to only grab yours as a sign of love and respect.

Me: I appreciate the dedication, but you need to stop grabbing my boobs all the time.

Alex: BUT I HAVE TO GRAB BOOBS!

So we came to a compromise.  I smack his hand until he stops.  And he doesn’t stop and barks at me when his hand gets raw from me smacking his hand all the time. Which then I tell him…

“Alex?  For the love of God, stop grabbing my boobs.”

Thus the cycle begins again.

Does your spouse have overy grabby hands?  Does your boyfriend or husband grab your boobs all the time and no matter what you say or do, your boobs seem like magical magnets that nobody can resist? Let me know in the comments!

The Corn Gods Must Be Crazy

Alex and I decided to be really stupid and drive to Minnesota last month.  It’s a two day drive, and I always forget that time seems to stop in Iowa, because it feels like an eternity to get through Iowa.

Since I am from Minnesota, and every Minnesotan can agree with me on this, I believe that Iowa is not a real place and that it needs to fall into a hole in the earth.  Of course, I’m exaggerating, but seriously, Iowa is not a real place

Not real by association

Not real by association

Since Alex has lived in a total of eight different states, he has no love or affiliation with any place.  Since he spent a lot of time on the east coast, I consider him an east coaster, but I was born and raised in the same area of Minneapolis and lived there for 18 years.  My mom still lives in the house that she bought when I was four, and I still talk to a couple of my high school teachers.

I’m very, very overly proud of my home state and home town.  Something that baffles my in laws, but I think it just adds to my quirkiness.

Anyway, I’m getting off topic.  As soon as we get to Iowa, I scrunch my nose and complain that Iowa is basically hell and not a real place.  Alex starts to get agitated with me.

Alex: Why are you so against Iowa?  What did Iowa ever do to you?

Me: It exists.  Isn’t that enough?

Alex: NO!  THAT IS NOT A REASON TO HATE SOMETHING!  THAT’S WHAT HITLER THOUGHT ABOUT THE JEWS!  THAT IS NOT A VALID REASON TO HATE A PLACE OR SET OF PEOPLE!

But by the end of the day, Alex would be agreeing with me.

Not a real place

Not a real place

There’s this chain of fast food restaurants in the Midwest called Culver’s.  They fry their burgers in butter, they serve beer battered cheese curds from Wisconsin, and their ice cream is actually frozen custard and they make it fresh in every store.  You can get a heart attack just looking at their delicious food, and it’s a treat for Alex and I to visit every time we’re home.  I looked on the Culver’s website and find that there’s a Culver’s in Des Moines.  I figure that this was the time for Iowa to redeem itself.  They also had a Caribou Coffee, which is my favorite chain of coffee stores, and I will go into my love for Caribou in a later post.

Alex and I were starving.  The biscuit and gravy breakfast from the Super 8 Motel was not sticking with us.  Alex and I are both hangry (so hungry that you’re angry).  I get the directions on my phone to get to the closest culver’s restaurant, and as we’re getting closer, we realize that we’re in a residential area.  When the maps says we’re there, we’re in front of a condemned house.

Strike one, Iowa.

Alex says screw it and we’ll find something once we get to Minnesota, which at this point is only two hours away.  I pull out some veggies from our cooler of goodies, but carrots are just not a good substitute.

As we’re back on the highway, I see a sign stating that Culver’s is the next exit.  I get excited and then I mistake the next exit for the exit following.

So we missed culvers.  Again.  Alex was furious.

I can’t blame him.

Then I see a sign for caribou.  Alex tells me that if he can’t get cheese curds, I can’t get a turtle mocha.

So we’re both in the car, in silence, the dogs are sedated in the back, and we’re both staring ahead.  I decide to change things up a bit.

Me: How about we play I Spy?

Alex: Sure.

Me: I spy something yellow.

Alex: is it corn?

Me: Good!  Now I spy something green.

Alex: Is it corn?

Me: Ugh… Fine, I spy something husky.

Alex: Wait, wait… let me guess… It’s corn!

Me: I SPY A MUSICAL BAND KNOWN FOR ROCK AND ROLL!

Alex: IS IT KORN WITH A “K”?

Me: I SPY SOMETHING THAT IS DYING!

Alex: LEAH! THE ANSWER IS ALWAYS CORN!*

CORN EVERYWHERE

CORN EVERYWHERE

Me: THIS IS WHY IOWA ISN’T A REAL PLACE!

When we finally got into Minnesota, after getting lost in Des Moines, driving through hundreds of acres of corn, Alex and I came to an agreement.

The corn gods must be crazy.

 

Have you ever been to a place where you were just so frustrated by how little there was?  Have you ever gotten lost in a strange town because apple maps were designed by assholes?  Let me know in the comments!

*Our I Spy game lasted close to an hour.  Only two other times were the answers not corn: When I spied something spinny, which was a wind turbine, and I spied something beany, which were the soybeans.

 

How An Asian Food Market Broke My Car

I think there should be a completely new category for my blog in regards to how I seem to always break my damn car.

Since I’m kind of not working right now and waiting to hear back from the 30+ jobs I’ve applied for, I have figured out that the best way we can survive is by going to the Asian Market over the river to get some of our groceries so I can make delicious, cheap, ramen soup from scratch and miso soup.  Because soup is amazing.  And buying stuff from the Asian market is super duper cheap.  Also, making 8 gallons of miso soup and buying the ramen noodles from the Asian market would cost me about $0.40 per meal.  So why the hell not?

 

Cheap AND Delicious

Cheap AND Delicious

Alex was unaware that there was an Asian market in the area, and when I revealed to him that there were a couple and that their prices were way cheaper than base, he agrees to go with me.

Naturally, because we are young, we make several mistakes for our journey.

Mistake number one: We each forget our phones in the house.

Mistake number two: Alex has a gut feeling against taking our monstrous SUV out instead of our cute little Suzuki Forenza, thinking that maybe we should be taking the itty bitty baby car.  He ignores it.

Mistake number three: I ask the guy at the Asian market to use his phone to get directions to a discount grocery store on the ass end of Shreveport.

 

Murphey’s law states that when something can go wrong, it will always go wrong.  It also dictates that the universe hates me and loves to cause me misery.

Here’s what I’m thinking happened to our car.

The gods above saw that we lacked our phones and decided to punish us by breaking our car.

Alex’s gut feeling was telling him that we have been having some problems with the SUV overheating and that we should take it easy on driving it more than ten feet in the summer.

Or, the guy I asked to help us put an ancient Chinese curse on my car because I decided to go shopping for the rest of my stuff at another store.

Not so lucky in this case

Not so lucky in this case

I’m pretty sure it was a mix of all three instances.

I believe I’ve mentioned that Alex was a chef before he was in the military, and his specialty is Asian cuisine.  He loves everything Asian from home décor to all of the lovely different foods.  While nerdome is his first love, Asian culture is a close second.  I’m pretty sure I’m the third.

So we’re going around this store and I’m gazing at the whole guava I could buy for five dollars when Alex comes up to me holding all of these different spices that you can’t find anywhere but an Asian specialty store, his grin ear to ear, while he’s sounding like a school girl running through the store, trying to figure out everything he wants to buy.

We’re going to be eating a lot of chicken satay for the next few weeks.

We run around the store, trying to decide if we want to buy fifty pounds of rice for $30, as well as getting some new dishes that were made in Vietnam, when we decide to just stick with the basics— everything we need to make Ramen, Miso Soup, and any other random Asian spices that we’re lacking.

We fill the cart and only spend $50, then I was trying to figure out how to get back on the main highway and if that would be the fastest way to the discount grocery store.  I decide to ask the sales clerk where the store was.

Mistake numero dos.  We explained our numero uno problem of forgetting our phones and just wanting to get our grocery shopping done all that night, and he lets me use his phone to map it out.  He barely spoke English, and his (I’m assuming) supervisor was shaking his head in disbelief that two twenty something year olds were walking around town without a phone.

So we drive two miles down the road, in the opposite direction of our house, when Alex suddenly pulls over.  I give him a strange look and he tells me that the engine was overheating.

We lift the hood and Alex removes the coolant cap and it starts to explode everywhere.  Luckily, he didn’t break the radiator.

We have extra coolant in the back for instances such as this, put some more in, and continue down the road to the discount grocery.

Car starts to overheat after two more miles.  So we stop and pull into a park, where a group of moms are doing a work out class.

Now, I know their moms because I know what moms look like.  They have a very distinct look to them.  You know what I’m talking about.

But in my case, no strollers.  They just looked like moms.  In every sense of the word.

But in my case, no strollers. They just looked like moms. In every sense of the word.

There were several other people there staring at us in wonder and delight as we stared at the engine, wishing it would cool off, while we panic a little bit.  We put more coolant in, we waited around 20 minutes, and decided to take the back roads home.

One mile into the residential area of Highland and the car overheats again.  We were out of coolant at this point.  We weren’t too far from a mechanic, but the sign was in Spanish and the person we found there barely spoke English.  They had just closed.

I was beginning to pull my hair out.  I was also hating myself for not wearing socks while wearing a pair of danskos.

We walk over to a regular grocery store and buy more coolant and a gallon of water because it’s only in the 90s with full humidity this particular day, so our clothes are soaked through with sweat.  We walk back to the car, put more coolant in, thinking the half hour of resting would be enough.

We drive a mile and a half down the road and it overheats just as we’re pulling into another mechanics.  A firestone.

They were starting to close up for the night, but they said we could pull it in to their garage so that nobody would try to steal our nearly broken car.  That night, I find the warrantee stuff I bought when we got the car, and find out everything is covered.

FINALLY!  Some good luck!

We find out the water pump was broken, as well as the thermostat.

Fixed just in time for us to take two weeks to drive to Minnesota, during the one year anniversary of us living in Louisiana.

So that’s how a young couple screw up everything in order to get the ingredients to make cheapo ramen.

Have you ever had your vehicle broken down without any way to contact the outside world?  Does it seem like no matter what you do, you just seem to have increasingly bad luck?  Let me know in the comments!

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