A Case of Mistaken Identity

About a week ago I received a voicemail message telling me my failure to pay my gas and electric bill in the state of Maryland, despite many phone calls and mail reminders, had resulted in an upcoming court appearance.

This caught me off guard. I've never been the "registered" bill payer on anything in the state of Maryland. I never got phone calls or mail reminders. And the biggest thing that confused me?  My name is most certainly not Michael Cornin. Or Michael Clone. Or Michael anything. I couldn't totally make out the last name, but I'm sure they said Michael and I'm sure that's not my name. 

So I called the company to tell them I was not Michael, I did not know Michael, and they should probably call him to tell him he had to appear in court. The woman told me she's only in the phone receiving center, not the phone calling center, and there was no way for her to look up "Michael's" information and remove my phone number. 

BGE = Baltimore Gas and Electric

Dear Michael,

If you are reading this and your name is Michael and you live in the state of Maryland and have not paid your gas/electric bill in some time, take this as your heads up that some lady who can call you, but who you cannot call back, is looking for you to give you your court date.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Best wishes for staying debt free,

Melissa

Give me back my pants, you thief!

I like all the seasons equally. I really do. I also hate them all equally.

Summer. I hate you, east coast summer. Your 108 degree nonsense PLUS humidity is just unfair. I don't know who you're trying to kill, but chances are you've killed the wrong person with heat stroke and left your target frolicking through sprinklers. Or lounging by one of their many pools.

Whatever.

West coast summer, I'm finding you quite manageable once again.

But no matter where you are in summer, one thing will always follow you. Shorts/skirts/other things that aren't pants. Don't get me wrong, I love my skirts and shorts. What I don't love is remembering to shave my legs, or taking that extra five minutes in the shower to actually do it (when I remember, of course). 

My office has no air conditioning, so even if I wanted to I couldn't wear my pants. For the third day in a row I'm wearing a skirt paired with my unshaven legs. I promise you it isn't gross! But still, I feel like a social law breaker.

Not shaving my legs is also the reason I never was, and will never be, a cheerleader. For that reason only. 

I was a cheerleader for Halloween one year. I was still too young to shave my legs. That's why I could pull it off. 

This post wasn't funny. Sorry.

Ten on Tuesday (2)!

Here's another TEN ON TUESDAY. Again, these are from Roots and Rings.  Remember, you can submit questions too! You can comment below (or on any post) to ask a question. I have to approve them first, so you can write "_____? Please don't post this." So I'll have your question and I won't post the comment. I'll mark it as spam or something. 

1. How do you feel about Groundhog’s Day?
I hate that movie. And I don't understand the "holiday" either. Why get so worked up over it? It's cold, it's hot, it's in between. Weather. 

2. What color are your fingernails right now? (Bonus points if you include a picture.)
Turquoise and Caicos by Essie!

Yes, it's chipping. Shhh.

3. Do you like riddles?
Um. I guess I don't. Because whenever someone asks/tells me one I don't even think I just say "I don't know" and wait for the answer.

4. When you were 10, how old did you think “old” was? At your current age, how old do you think “old” is?
I don't remember. Maybe 50? Now I think 90 -- but it definitely depends on the person. I have a great-aunt in her 90s who acts like she's 20 - she's not old!

5. Do you wish on stars?
Nope.

6. Do you recycle?
Absolutely.

7. On a scale from 1-10, how good of a cook are you?
Um. I'll say 7. I've come a long way in the past two years. I asked a roommate if I could use olive oil in my cookies. I could not. 

8. Do you color your hair? Professionally or at home?
I do, but only once in awhile. At home. With a boxed kit. That I will only buy if it is on sale AND if I have a coupon. 

9. One a scale from 1-10, how do you rate your manners?
7. I need to stop talking with my mouth full. (YOU SEE THIS, MOTHER?)

10. Who are the last 5 people you have texted?
If twitter doesn't count... (yes, I text twitter to tweet from my phone because i don't gots one of them smarties)
1. Mike
2. Sarah
3. Gabby
4. Kelsey
5. Chris

Important Things I've Learned Post College

I spent the past week with family and friends in a variety of cities. I got to spend a total of 24 hours, non consecutively, in my hometown, but a lot of great time in Delaware and NYC. While frolicking I learned some things that I probably should have already known, but alas, it's just making sense now. I'm going to share with you some of the ones that are...something. Whatever, just read about this crap: 




I always thought Chipotle would be great for a hangover. Terrible idea. Just trust me on this one. 

As much fun as it might seem to get drunk with a grandparent, it's not. 

If you want to hail a taxi in NYC, you should stand in the middle of the road and almost get hit by reckless drivers. Near death = taxi success.

Refer to a Capri Sun as a "Capri Sun", not a "Juice Bag". It sounds like something else. Capri Sun is delicious no matter your age. Specifically Pacific Cooler. Those straws will always be difficult to use. 

It's not likely you'll be picked up by the Cash Cab.

Not all bars have SNY's "Beer Money" crew to ask you random sports questions at random times.

Do not let two different friends make you a drink, both using the same glass, at the same time. One will pour you vodka and the other will add water to it. It does not taste good.

Always remember that the opposite gender is a little bit dumb -- and some people are more aloof than others.

After drinking, do not set an alarm for the next morning and leave your cell across the room, forcing you to run to it. There is nothing like shooting out of bed, thinking you're fine, and trying to run in socks across a hardwood floor with a bitchin' headache and then falling over. 

Babies are really cute when they aren't yours. Poopie* diapers are for mom and dad, not cousin. 

Those 100-Ways Bras are best readjusted by guys. (I never ever thought that would be true, but alas, man type people seem to be more skilled in the bra region than women.)

The letters on the subway cars mean something.

Humidity is a beeyotch. I never want to look like Roseanne Roseannadanna. Not even on Halloween.

Eight year olds know about beer and will try to sneak some from you when you aren't looking (don't worry, they didn't get any)!






*This tried to autocorrect to potpie. I do not want a potpie diaper. That's just disgusting. Anything in a diaper is gross.


Look for another TEN ON TUESDAY later today!

abcdeFGjlmnqrz and my NYC subway journey

I write this as I sit on the LIRR to visit family. This morning I left Brooklyn at 7:45am at a station that has both the F and G trains. I wanted the F train. I forgot/didn't know that both trains arrive on the same track and you have to look at which one you're boarding. Can you tell where this is going?

I got on the first train that arrived. It was G but I didn't know at at the time. For both the F and G trains the first 4 stops are the same. I then continued 4 more stops on the G, which is now separate from F train, until I saw the girl next to me checking the station list on her ipad. I realized my stop wasn't listed. She helped me and then laughed. So I had to go back 4 stops and wait for the F train. A 45 minute trip into midtown Manhattan turned into an hour and a half of utter confusion.

When I think back I should have realized I was on the wrong train. I couldn't figure out why the train was so empty during rush hour on a Friday.

Finally getting on the correct train, it was very crowded. That made more sense, but I was still overwhelmed.

I made it into the city and then couldn't find Penn Station. I asked two people, neither of whom spoke English. One woman thought I was asking where Pennsylvania was. Then I found Penn and got on the train. Incase you need to know, Penn Station is in fact still in NYC and I did not need to drive to Pennsylvania.

When I venture back this evening I am taking a cab from Penn to Brooklyn. I am too directionally challenged to deal with this type of stress twice in one day.

The sex talk

One time I walked into a sex toy store with my mom. Oh, and also my grandma.

To be fair, none of us knew it was that kind of store before we walked in. The exterior was a gorgeous hot pink and seeing as I was around 18 years old at the time and still in my LIlly Pulitzer phase, I needed to go in.

Besides the girl working, we were the only three customers in the store. We didn't want to show our uncomfortability, so we tried to stay in the store and look as if we were genuinely browsing, not trying to hold back tears. Now that I think about it, it would have been okay to be "those" ladies freaking out in a sex toy shop. The employee must have thought we were all bonkers because, let's face it, what intellegent person brings three generations of women, all related, into this place together? No one.

Earlier this week I made a very quick trip to my parent's house and stopped by the grandparent's to say hi. My grandmother had just finished reading a book titled "Murder by Pantyhose" and in my adult mind, I took this to be a kinky act, bringing me to ask if she had read "Fifty Shades of Grey".

She told me she didn't know what that was so I said "it's a porno book for older women" to which she replied, "oh I love that stuff!" - with a little too much excitement I might add.

My mom and I then told her about Ellen DeGeneres' reading of it (you can see it here) and grams said "Oh, it's S&M?" We said yes and she panics, "Oh, I don't like that kind of stuff!"

Sleeping not so Beaut(ifull)y

For as long as I can remember I've slept through entire flights. Most of the time I've passed out before take off and don't wake up until after having landed.

Also, apparently I don't sleep....normally. People have taken pictures of me hunched over, head in my hands. They later tell me they thought I was angry or crying. No, that's just how I sleep.

As I type this I'm high in the sky about 3 hours from my destination and I've just awoken from a nap. Now, the people around me do not know that I've actually be awake for almost 40 minutes, but kept my eyes closed until about 10 minutes ago. The steward came around to take drink orders and I heard him, because I was awake, but as far as they were concerned, I was unconscious.


I heard the steward ask the woman next to me if I was sleeping. She laughed. "um. Wow. I think?" to be fair, at this point I was not hunched over, but rather sitting up right with my mouth and nose burried in the arm hole opening on my sweatshirt. Yeah I know it looked ridiculous. But you know what's even worse? I woke up becauses this woman, who's got to be in at least her late 50s is watching "The Hangover" with her husband and she's snort-laughing uncontrollably.

Also, the guy to my right, across the isle, is very cute. He's also single because I heard him say that to someone. If you read this, boy, let me know. Because you should hit me up. Thanks.

I'm going to try and sleep again, in the most awkward pstition ever so that it make everyone around me uncomfortable.

**After I wrote this cute boy started talking to me. We exchanged numbers. I don't expect to hear from him again...