12.25.2009

Back with the streets I know.


So on Wednesday, I went and registered my truck in Oklahoma FINALLY. I've been trying to do that for about the last 8 months, but I never got around to it. There was an issue with the title, I couldn't provide proof of residency, the list went on and on. But finally, Wednesday, I walked into the Tag Agency, walked out with an Oklahoma plate and proclaimed my truck to be an official resident of Oklahoma.

Apparently. This angered the Gods. Someone did not want me to have an Oklahoma truck.

I left Oklahoma City at about 2:00 and got into Amarillo right around 6. I call my dad and he tells me that I might think about stopping, the roads are starting to get bad. Well, I decide to keep going, I-40 felt okay. I past Vega, Texas and saw a Days Inn, but still the roads were okay, no moisture was coming down. And then, out of nowhere, like a giant thunder clap, the road turned into a sheet of ice. I slowed down to about 30 and felt okay for about a mile. Then I saw a curved overpass with a bridge and I know, just from seeing it, that bridge was going to be trouble. My truck is terrible in bad weather; there's no weight in the back of it so it really doesn't take much for my day to be ruined. I kept it steady, got about halfway up and then a gust of wind grabbed ahold of the back end of my truck. I don't remember a lot; I think I just closed my eyes and screamed.

When the car stopped, I was in the median, my car was completely turned around and my bumper had smacked the guard rail for I-40 east-bound. I'm shaking, but I get out of the car and actually survey the damage to the guard rail before I survey the damage to my truck. My bumper was moved about 3 inches to the right. It looks like someone took a sledge hammer to my bumper and just knocked it a few times. After surveying the damage, I get back in my car and decide to turn it around, so it's actually facing the direction I want to go, turned off the engine and called my mom to try and figure out what exactly to do. There was no way my truck was going to make it out of the median. As soon as I say, "Hi Momma", I hear tires squeal behind me. I look in my rear view mirror and watch a Jeep slam right into my truck bed.

That moment, those three seconds, were the scariest thing I have ever experienced. I literally had a flash in my eyes. It wasn't any kind of white light, but it was just completely blinding. I'm sure it was every, single nerve ending and muscle I had screaming the tensing, but really, I saw something. And I'm quite glad I didn't have time to process what could have happened in the moment.

What did happen is still on the level of unspeakable. The right corner of my truck's bed is smashed in a good 3 feet. The other car had about the same amount of damage, but on the left side. I guess the funny part of the story is the wrecking company DROVE my truck, half-bed and all, to the salvage yard. My engine's totally fine. But seeing her like that, all smashed up, man, was that ever a heartbreaker. I didn't take any pictures. There's just some things you don't want to remember.

The guy who hit was actually an alright dude. I felt pretty bad for him; he'd just bought that Jeep on Sunday. The wrecking company gave us all a ride to the nearest motel, the very same Days Inn I had considered stopping at, and I spent a very snowy and sleepless night in Vega, Texas. Dad and brother Chase came in from Tucumcari and picked me up the next day and here I stay. It's been good to be here hanging out with siblings. It's been just the right amount of excitement and relaxation; I don't have much time to reflex about things but it's not stressful.

Tomorrow, I'll head into Pampa to see Grandma and other families. Then Dad'll drop me off at the Amarillo airport on Monday where I have a super-cheap Southwest flight back to Oklahoma City (the thought of being in a Greyhound for 5 hours with how much my neck hurts is just a bit much to compute right now) and I'll pick up a rental car at the airport. That is, if I can even get into Oklahoma City. You guys got some snow or something?

Insurance will be evaluating Joan Rivers the truck on Monday, hope for good things cuz there's no way this girl can afford a new car right now. I'm just trying to wrap my head around all of it right now. Lots of people have called me in the past few days and I must apologize because I'm sure I haven't been making much sense. It sort of feels like my brain is running on a check list. But I appreciate all of you. And if there's one thing that reminds you of how lucky you are and how good the people in your life are, it's a massive car wreck. So thanks, friends. And hey, Merry Christmas.

12.17.2009

And I always will be.

I don't know how many of you have seen this holiday ad:


But this is pretty much the way me and my roommate feel about it:

12.13.2009

Drink slow, drink slow.


Lake Hefner, meet Gertie. Gertie, meet Lake Hefner. Alright. See ya later.


Gertie-dog really did almost get thrown into Hefner today. Chelsey and I were officially the people with the embarrassing dog. Gertie was people-chasing and car-chasing and bike-chasing and barking at everything she could. We were seriously the people you go home and tell your family about. "Margie, today I was out for a lovely bicycle ride around Lake Hefner and there was this dog... well, actually it looked more like a dingo. And its owners? They just could NOT control it. It was terrible. I felt so sorry for them." Well dude, it's a 6 month old puppy at a lake with dozens of people around. She's gonna be pretty excited. AND WAS SHE EVER EXCITED.

Ever think about that? Just how often YOU'RE the subject of conversation at someone else's dinner? I used to think about it a lot more, when I was attracting a lot more attention (when I was holding a bit more metal in my skin). I guess it's sort of vain thing to think about, but I do that sort of stuff all the time. I'll constantly tell stories about funny or interesting people I saw earlier that day. I hope that somewhere, I'm a great story that someone tells when they need a good laugh. Sort of like the story I tell about the guy who tried to sell me fossils (or as I heard, possums) at the Mississippi state lane. It's sort of nice to be notorious.

I'd love a vacation. Something tells me my quickie trip home for Christmas just isn't going to cut it.

12.10.2009

A home I could call my own.


Dudes, you just simply would not believe how big my dog is now. I guess it's to be expected, as she has officially crossed the 6 month mark (and with no lack of grace, mind you). She's so smart it literally almost kills me. I come close to cardiac arrest chasing her around the house when she knows it's time to go outside. True to her breed, she's a champ at herding me all over the place.

It's been cold here in the Ciudad (I'm starting a new thing, pay attention) and Gertie gets kicked out of the house during the day, so that she won't Gertiefy in here. You should see the zen garden she creates in the backyard. Point is, Santa Claus brought her a dog house for Christmas, as well as... a sweater. I've never been known to dress my dog. Annie had two articles of clothing: a rain jacket that Maria bought her which never stopped being funny to me, and a vampire cape I found at Walgreens for 99 cents. But, with it being so cold and Gertie having such short hair, it seemed like the right thing to do. I'll put it on her every morning before I leave from work and it's always off by the time Chelsey gets home. Who knows how she does it, but she's got it down to an art.

I'll stop talking about my dog after I tell you that Chelsey and I also bought her a name tag. after several intense conversations about what to actually put on the tag. We settled on, "Maybe the Gertie ate your baby!". I don't know if you've noticed, but we're actually raising a dingo. The tag makes me laugh every time I see it.


And since we're on the subject of wild animals...


"Oklahomans have enjoyed or cursed feral hogs in the southeast and eastern part of the state for several years. Although feral hogs are oftentimes considered free ranging livestock in these portions of the state, there are many pros and cons regarding their presence. Landowners, especially farmers, cringe at the thought of hogs becoming established in their part of the country. Many hunters, on the other hand, look forward to acquiring them on their favorite hunting grounds. To some hunters the hog represents a formidable trophy worthy of payment for hunting privileges. To some landowners, the combination of feral hogs and lease hunters makes having feral hogs on their property a bit easier to accept. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the feral hog will be around for a while, regardless of your opinion of them."

Alright. I pled ignorance on this, but feral hogs, razorbacks if you will, are real things. I remember working at the Capitol last winter and a certain representative pushing a piece of legislation called "The Feral Hog Control Act". I pretty much thought that was the funniest thing I'd ever heard. Like, really dudes? Little piglets trampling your corn? Poor southern New Mexican farmers. So then, I come to Oklahoma and I'm reading some new legislation that's about to take effect (actually trying to find information on this excuse for legislation) and what do I come across? "HB 2158 lets hunting businesses hire an airborne feral-hog sharpshooter."

So...

Let's just break this down. The state of Oklahoma adopted legislation that authorizes sharpshooters in helicopters shoot feral hogs. "House members voted 87-12 for a bill that authorizes the state Department of Agriculture to issue permits to property owners who already have a big game commercial hunting area license to manage "depredating animals,'' such as feral hogs." All you need is a license, some buck shot, a helicopter and it's huntin' season, y'all.

Naturally, hilarity continues. Until I start google-ing "feral hogs".


and this is the first image that comes up.


ARE YOU KIDDING ME.

The average weight of feral swine is 100 to 150 pounds, but depending on the region can obtain sizes in excess of 600 lbs. ARE YOU KIDDING ME. You're telling me there are pigs that can weigh 600 pounds? And I live on the same continent as them? Not cool. It's bad enough knowing how many alpacas there are in South America and just how easily they could just march on up here and destroy my life. But NO. Razorbacks are knocking on my bedroom window. I seriously just thought a "razorback" was just a silly mascot thing, like Lobo Louie. Or a unicorn. But. No. They're real. And they're here. And I live in a state where people can shoot them from helicopters. I guess that makes me feel safer?

I had a dream last night that feral hogs got into the condo by CHEWING THROUGH THE GLASS and ate all the food we had in the fridge. Chelsey screamed something about finding a helicopter and we both ran outside, except we were instantly downtown and feral hogs were running and squealing everywhere, and there were hundreds of helicopters flying overhead.

Safe to say, I've got a new phobia. And out, New Mexico, they're coming for ya.


And on the note of downtown OKC, I went to the Cuidad's (starting it) Museum of Art a few days back, which houses one of the largest Dale Chihuly collections in the country. Normally I could take or leave blown glass, but that stuff was pretty rad. I especially liked the anemones, because, well, I like anemones.

I also liked the museum because it was very much the sort of place were talking was embraced. So, so many museums you walk into and feel like you need to shut up, but coversations were all over that place. And even though I wasn't an active participant, I very much enjoyed the active space.


Other than wild beasts (Gertie included), life's been running pretty steady. Chelsey and I have been very much enjoying alcohol-induced testimonials on photobooth. Don't be surprised if we make you a video one of these nights, whoever you are. Words cannot express my gratitude over having such a fantastic roommate.

I like my job pretty alright; it keeps me quite busy. But I've been really good about not letting it stress me out and everytime I start to feel overwhelmed, I completely stop whatever I'm doing and let myself have an hour to get organized. This is helpful. It also wastes an insane amount of post-its.

My holiday plans are as follows: I'm leaving here on the 23rd, spending the Eve with Momma, driving to Tucumcari on the 25th to see Dad, heading to Pampa with Dad and co on the 26th, and I'll be back here on the 27th. Happy holidays, have a car ride. Not that I've ever minded that. I'm trying to plan a week to visit home sometime in January or early February.

In sports-related news, I wish the Habs would win some more games and I hope that both OU and OSU win their bowl games, because you can seriously feel football-related depression around here.

But the eatin' sure is tasty.


Oklahoma: Best place to be hungover since 1907.