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Running Late

25 Oct

I committed the biggest morning wake-up no-no today: I woke up 5 minutes before my alarm went off, so I turned it off and decided to lay there for a minute. Huge mistake. Fell back asleep for 45 minutes. I had a bizarre dream during that 45 minutes that my sister had a freak accident and died on the Turkish Twist (the most random ride I could possibly think of from Canobie Lake Park). I was so scared in my dream that I woke up gasping. Of all the ways to die, the Turkish Twist had done my dream sister in. The horror of freak accidents on the Turkish Twist were all too familiar to me, as when I was in 6th grade I had bent my legs up so my feet were up against the wall, and when the ride slowed down my body went crashing to the ground and I landed hard on my knees. But to dream die on the Turkish Twist in a freak accident? I could not grasp the sense of terror that my dream sister must have felt when she dream died in the midst of this:

Anyways, I wake up gasping, and I grab my phone to check the time: 7:30am exactly. FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKK! I am supposed to leave no later than 7:20am if I want to get to work with a sugar free Red Bull in hand. I bolt to the bathroom, brush my teeth, throw on some deodorant, run back to my room, throw on some leggings, boots, a tank top, and a cardigan that I wore Monday. Then I grab a brush, my pocketbook and run to my car. I blew like 4 red lights (unless a cop or my mom is reading this, in which case I’m just kidding, I blew 0 red lights), while also applying eye makeup. All you females out there know how dangerous of a situation I was in if I was applying eyeliner in my car. You can EITHER stab your eyeball out, crash into a 7-11, or risk looking like a raccoon. Luckily, I did alright.

Once I was settled, and looking 5% less like a hot mess while I sat in traffic on Granite street, I looked at the clock in my car to see it read 8:07am. I have to be sitting behind my desk in Chinatown by 8:30am. Yikes. I didn’t panic yet though, because the clock in my car is 13 minutes fast. I don’t want to fix it, as it brings me great relief to know I still have 13 extra minutes that the clock is not taking into account. I’m a weirdo like that. I’m also a weirdo in that I like to hype myself up more when I run late by playing running late music on repeat until I arrive safely to my destination. My idea of the perfect running late song is this one:

Another thing I like to do is scream irrationally at other cars, because taking our self-inflicted problems out on random strangers is a common/ignorant human behavior. I typecast the people in the cars based on what they drive. If it’s a shit box, I scream “YOU GHETTO HO!”, even if it could be a perfectly un-ghetto person who is likely just frugal that I am yelling at. If it’s a really nice car I scream “YOU YUPPIE ASS BITCH!”, even if it’s probably just someone’s grandfather. If I see a mini van I scream “SOCCER DOESN’T START UNTIL 3 YOU WHACK ASS MILF!”. You know, the usual stereotyping of a bitter fool who might be late for her essentially stress-free job.

Once I get into the last few minutes of crunch time, that make or break moment when if I hit one or two more red lights that I can’t get away with blowing I will be late, I like to play another running late song. Only this time I like to compete with time so that I feel like I’m in a really shitty low-budget action movie with no special effects. I like to play either Kashmir or Stairway to Heaven to see if I can reach my destination before the 8 minutes and three seconds (give or take) is up. I almost always lose. But not today. Because today, I got to work at 8:29am. One minute to spare. A sweet, sweet victory. Sans a sugar free Red Bull. Sometimes, living is difficult.

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One Response to “Running Late”

  1. troupie October 25, 2012 at 7:04 pm #

    11min fast– keeps me sane feeling better too.

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