I think it's time to address one of those biggies in my life that makes up a large part of my eccentricity. (Writing about myself has really made me realize that I...am...BANANAS.) The issue I'm about to bring to light is probably the thing that makes me feel MOST uncomfortable when people ask me about it. If I had the option of A.) being asked out of the blue about this thing I'm about to tell you OR B.) having to forego all punctuation and capitalization for a month (dear GOD no!)...I think... well, okay I'm starting to sweat just thinking about it, but yeah, I'd have to go for option B.
Idon'tknowhowtodrive.
What? Hm? Were you saying something? No? Just me?
Damnit. Okay so yeah, I'm nearing my 25th birthday and I am still as unable to operate a car as I was on my FIRST birthday. I think the fact that I just called it "operating" a car is pretty hopeless in itself. I'm not exaggerating, either. And I know half of you are nodding your heads emphatically out there, so THANKS Hannah (rude). I hate having to explain this part of myself. I think because I don't even really know how it's gotten to this point. I remember taking Drivers' Ed in high school and, well, sucking at it. The ONLY thing I remember from that class is that one real-life video they show you, called Red Pavement I think. And from THAT all I remember is the Worst Thing Ever fucking imprinted in my memory: a post-accident photo taken of a baby's SHOE on the road right next to the baby's SEVERED FOOT. I don't know what YOU guys were thinking after that, but I promptly threw up on my feet and then whispered to them that I was sorry because not only were they covered in vomit, but they were also going to have to take me everywhere I ever went from that point on in life.
I like to kick it OLD school. You know, like if I wanna go hunter-gathering and collect me some Hickory Smoked Tofurky Deli Slices from Trader Joes. No worries, it's only three miles away? Perfect! Let's just pack up a lil travel sack here of water, wallet, and deodorant (you're WELCOME) and make a journey of it! It only takes one-and-a-half-to-two hours!!!
Seriously.
This is how I've been living for the past seven years, and it's now the only way I'm comfortable living. I feel SO awkward slash waste-of-a-person-ish when I have to ask someone for a ride somewhere. UGH! And of course, realistically, that happens way more often than I'd ever like to admit. Because of that, I never like to get a ride in someone's car unless I really REALLY need it. If you offer to give me a ride to the grocery store-- because hey, you could use a couple things from there too-- I'll cock my head to the side Rainman-style, mutter something unhelpful about liking the weather, grab my canvas sack and scissor-kick out the door before you have the chance to say "Uh...you're weird." Right after, you'll drive past me when I've made it twenty-five yards down the road and you'll offer me a ride, and of course I'll get in. I'm not STUPID.
Grocery shopping this way is always an interesting experience. You REALLY have to want something in order to lug it with you for an hour on your return trip home. Well, and then there's toilet paper. That's kind of the only GIVEN. With anything else, I'll compromise if it means I can still get my 8-lb watermelon and 12-lb sack of potatoes. This method leads to many real-life quizzes of my alcoholism. This scenario has ACTUALLY come up on numerous occasions: Cabernet Sauvignon from Paso Robles, only $4.99?!! And it has a picture of a lion wearing shoes on the label? Get outta here!! Bye bye laundry detergent (lame!), HELL-O my purple tannined friend (yay!)!! You can frequently find me sporting both a dirt-tinged T-shirt and a dark burgundy wine mouth.
I wonder if moving to Encinitas and starting this trend in my life of actually DOING things will inspire me to naturally take that next step and learn to drive? All I know is that if I ever DO graduate into big-girl pants and swap my savvy California ID (only SLIGHTLY embarrassing when the club bouncer has to check it, by the way) for the real deal, I hope I always maintain my appreciation for the simple beauty of relying on what God gave you to get what you want. No no, I don't mean like shake-what-yo-mama gave you, I mean your own two feet. You're so silly.
SPEAKING of Trader Joes, though, I'd like to give them props on expanding their deli section a wee bit to encompass a couple more vegan options. It's still frustrating to see so many things that would be SO yummy without the chicken in it or the gorgonzola cheese (the Brussels Sprouts salad that had secret cheese hiding somewhere in the ingredients made me cry out in pain), but today I got a deeeeLISH hummus/veggie lavash for $3.99 that I'd definitely recommend trying. Careful, though. I was two-thirds done with it when my stupid left eye grabbed the calorie content off the nutrition facts and I had to weep softly into my hands for a minute. Totaling 700 Calories, it definitely demands to be taken seriously.
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