A lot of people have told me that my life is like a movie. Now hold up, I’m not talking about one of those flicks where the protagonist finds love or becomes famous. Nope. I’m talking about the kind where the main character has a constant and severe string of bad luck.
Like severe. And REALLY constant.
The film is most likely a comedy and involves a series of unfortunate events that only bring laughter to it’s viewers. Yup, that is my life. Here for your entertainment.
I’m not even sure where/when to begin.
I guess we’ll start with thunderstorms.
Everybody likes them, right? I’m a huge fan of lightning, cracks of thunder, downpours. The whole sha-bang really. I actually should probably just move to Oregon. I hear it’s rainy and overcast there like on the daily. Sounds like my cup of tea, even though I actually happen to despise tea. Maybe I’ll run into the Cullens there. (Twilight reference for you older folk).
A couple weeks ago, two of my coworkers and I ventured up to Virgin Falls. We had made plans several weeks before to do a group camping/hiking trip. What started out as a group of 5, dwindled down to 3. I wont use names, but in reference to what I’m about to tell you, “a blonde, an emo, and a black guy walk into the woods,” was used to describe this adventure. Our guy companion had previously stated that he had never gone camping because “black people don’t go camping.” His words, not mine. Thus, he orchestrated a camping trip with the blonde (she is a BA outdoors women) so he could obtain an authentic experience. Not quite sure how I was going to contribute to this “authentic experience,” but I was invited anyway. And also, apparently dubbed emo.
Come the day of our trip and wouldn’t you know! Strong winds and damaging hail were in the forecast. That should’ve stopped us, like really should’ve stopped us, but it didn’t. It was a bit of a drive to get to our destination and most of that drive consisted of us heading directly into some black-hole-like sky. Still, we did not turn back.
Upon arriving, we had some difficulty finding the camp site. The struggle included stumbling upon a very ancient and terrifying cemetery, which highly resembled an indian burial ground. Let’s just say nightmares were implanted.
It was progressively getting darker with each moment. Due to my work schedule, we weren’t able to begin our journey until late afternoon which made our arrival time somewhere around 7pm.
Eventually we discover that the closest camp site is a 1.5 mile hike.
And then it starts to rain.
Once we got all our bags and equipment dispersed so that we each had an equal load to carry (okay, so mine wasn’t equal. I’m wimpy) we set out and up the first hill of many on the trail.
It was dark, and I mean like pitch black. We were somewhere in the woods. My calves were burning (’twas a hard trail. There was a sign at the beginning that said “For experienced hikers only.” Whoops) It was down pouring, and I’m pretty sure we almost got struck by lightning. Probably an hour and a half of suffering went by and we suddenly lost sight of the trail. The blonde was shining her flashlight around in search of one of the trail reflectors when I made eye contact with what appeared to be a creature. I may have slightly panicked. And I also really had to pee. Which are two things that don’t go well together. The two of my friends insisted we find the trail and keep going, but I was like “Uh no. I ain’t about to get lost in the woods.”
We set up camp by this giant rock. I’d like to say I helped pitching the tent, but I didn’t. I’m not very useful when it comes to most outdoorsy-type stuff. (Surprising, I know).
So we’re 3 people sleeping in a 4 person tent sharing 1 air mattress. An air mattress that is laid out on a slight slant. This led to the black guy rolling into the blonde, who was rolling into me, which left me just rolling off. Twas a lovely night’s sleep.
Morning came and we realized we were literally 100 feet from the camp site. (But of course)
Let’s talk about last week.
My sister and I had received word that our grandfather had passed away, thus we set forth on a 12 hour journey back to good ole Iowa. It was over the 4th of July weekend, and we wanted to avoid Independence Day traffic, therefore we decided to leave Friday evening after my sister got off work and planned on driving through the night. I have no idea why we thought this was a good idea. At first, we were pumped up! Laughing, telling stories, jamming to my road trip playlist. And then she fell asleep, leaving me alone to stare at white and yellow lines in the dark. It’s legit like being hypnotized. I was struggling to stay awake hardcore. There was one point where I was smacking my face to wake up, and then smacking Alysha’s face to wake her up. She, of course, was out like a light. This terrible idea led us to sleeping for a few hours uncomfortably in the PT Cruiser at a rest stop praying that no creepy truck driver named “Earl” knocked on our window.
The next morning we were literally an hour, ONE HOUR, away from home when I suddenly catch glimpse of a police car in my rearview. I glance down at my speed to see I’m going 95 (whoops). I panicked and thought, “why isn’t he pulling me over”?
And then he pulled me over.
I tried to use the whole “my grandpa just died,” but I still ended up with a $168 ticket. Apparently he had been following me for 10 minutes. I hadn’t noticed. I was obviously oblivious due to sleep deprivation. 12 hours on the road over night can do that to you. I’m still crying about it. The $168 ticket, not the 12 hour drive, although that wasn’t fun either.
I was literally home for like a day when I busted out my computer to pay rent only to be greeted by pop-ups saying “ALERT! ALERT! CALL 5428572849574756728 RIGHT AWAY!” (that wasn’t actually the number, of course) Apparently my computer had caught a virus and was starting to get hacked. The result? I spent 2 hours on the phone bonding with an Indian man whom I could only understand about 15% of the time. My responses consisted of “Umm, what?” “Could you repeat that?” “One more time.”
Cost me $200 to get that taken care of.
But wait, the bad luck doesn’t stop there!
Once our visit home came to an end, we packed up to go back to Nashville. This time I was paying special attention to my speed (or so I thought I was). We were somewhere in Missouri when I freakin’ get pulled over AGAIN. My sister’s like “Maybe he’ll let you off because you just got a ticket.” And I’m like no. All the more reason to give me another. This cop was a real not-nice person. Said he clocked me at 74 in a 60, and I know for a fact I was only going 64. Another $114 withdrawn from my bank account. Let’s just say I’m even more poor now than I was before. He also gave me a warning for the cracked windshield that I’ve had for about 2 years that never seemed to be a problem. He was so kind.
How do you guys feel about sewer smell? Not exactly a fragrance I’d want for a candle in my apartment. It is, however, a fragrance that filled my apartment last weekend, and the weekend before that.
There’s nothing I enjoy more then waking up and walking out of my room only to set foot into a puddle of nasty human waste water.
This all started weeks ago. My sister and I had noticed that water was leaking around our toilet. We assumed the toilet was leaking. Maintenance came over and, of course, they didn’t seem to find anything wrong. Literally the next day our bathroom was FLOODED. The water had traveled all the way into my room, soaking my carpet. And we all know wet carpet leads to wet socks, which is the WORST.
Maintenance came in and worked on the issue and later said everything was “fixed.” They had brought in dehumidifiers and placed fans under my tore up carpet to dry it. There’s nothing like sleeping in a room with constant flopping carpet guys.
Due to the moisture from the incident, our hardwood floor in the hallway was all warped so they replaced it with lumina flooring (at least I think that’s what it’s called) while Alysha and I were in Iowa. She and I were stoked to return to a clean and fixed apartment.
And then the weekend happened.
Saturday, water started leaking from around the base of toilet again. We placed towels around the stool to soak up the leakage. I called the emergency maintenance number and left a message that the problem had returned. No response.
Sunday morning comes. Situation hasn’t changed much. Towels were all wet, so I laid down a few more. Sunday evening comes and I’m gearing up for the Miss USA Pageant that I was waiting ALL DAY to watch. I then go to pee, only to find that the bathroom floor is flooded again. I laid out more towels and called the emergency maintenance number AGAIN. Left ANOTHER message. STILL No response.
By this time, I’m getting legit furious. My good mood about the pageant was killed. I called my dad, who knows all things construction, and well, just all things in general. Apparently, we’re at the end of the plumbing line and every time someone in our building showered, flushed or used the sink, it would come up in our apartment because of a clog in the pipes. We were unable to shower or wash our hands. We couldn’t even pee! Every time we did, more water would appear. And this ain’t just regular ole water folks.
We actually had to go to Walmart to use the restroom that evening. How sad is that? You know what else is sad!? The fact that when I woke up Monday morning my bedroom carpet was AGAIN soaked with sewer water. I LAY ON THAT FLOOR. I left the office a very frustrated (half-way kind…ish) voicemail, because of course they didn’t answer either. My sister and I literally used up like 15 of our towels trying and soak up the sewer water, all of which I threw away while wearing protective gloves, because ew.
Not only did I have to deal with the stench of our apartment that day, but also the stench of myself. Not being able to shower isn’t a good look or odor for me.
How were your past three weeks?