What's that smell?

        If you follow me on Facebook, you know by now that I am seeing a personal trainer and making some pretty significant lifestyle changes.  This has been a long time coming.  I got lucky and picked up a regular nanny gig a few months ago and have been saving that income to pay for a trainer to show me the way!  I hit the jackpot people!  I am honestly feeling great, eating delicious food, and hurting the good hurt all over. 

        I go to the gym 3 days a week.  While this isn't my first attempt at going to a gym, this is the first time that I am fully invested in it.  So the seriousness scale hits the top.  I am trying to do what I can to be successful and to continue making strides forward.  Anyway, with this comes some struggles.  I workout at 0745 and don't know what to really do about breakfast.  I am afraid I will get sick if I eat first.  I mean, Crohn's and I don't always get along and I am afraid to bring my new friend, Fitness, into the mix and ultimately wreak havoc on myself.  So I workout on an empty stomach.  Sometimes, depending on how mean #meanman is, I feel nauseas after and eating anything sounds terrible!  So I am trying to decide between a piece of fruit or a protein drink or something like that to have after.  To help myself beat the nausea, I am bringing it with me so I can eat before I leave the parking lot.  So far, I have yet to eat anything in the parking lot.

        A handful of sessions ago I was pretty sure I was going to die in my car.  I basically rolled myself out of the gym and in a dazed stupor somehow managed to get into the driver's seat.  For an unknown length of time I sat there questioning all my life choices but mostly the reason I got out of bed that day.  As you know, I have very little free time, so as I began to come to, I remembered I had a dr appointment that day and had to work shortly after.  I rushed home and made some eggs (turns out to be exactly what I need after working out - an egg hash.) then took a shower.  Feeling much better I grabbed my backpack, tossed it onto the front seat, and away I went.

        A couple days later I was back at the gym.  #meanman was much nicer but still appropriately made my muscles shake under pressure and my body sweat in places that I didn't know I had sweat glands.  I went home and made my egg hash for breakfast and took a shower.  This continued to be the routine.  Workout (with minor moaning an complaining), breakfast, shower.  Breakfast always first because I need to cool down.  Can't take a hot shower with a hot body.  If you still sweat after the shower then the shower was pointless.  Anyway, let's just say that I have chowed down on my breakfast a few times, while feeling pretty ripe.

        So for the last week or so I have noticed an odor in my car.  It kinda comes and goes.  I began to worry that if I had a passenger in my car that they would pick up on it.  I also worried that my gym juices were being left in the fabric of my seat and leaving the stank in my car.  But, real talk, I'm not THAT sweaty or THAT stanky.  However, to make sure I wasn't sweatier that I perceived, I decided to do the sniff test.  I stuck my nose to the back of my seat and smelt 12 year old car seat, not the stank that was permeating my nose.  Then the real test, I shoved my face into the seat of the seat, but again just smelt seat.  Perplexed, I gave up.  I drove around for another day or so.  I get into my car after work one night and was slapped in the face with this odor.  It was enough to make me gag.  It was kinda familiar in scent but also swamp-death-like. 

        I made it home and it was about midnight.  I took a look around for what the smell was and could see nothing.  I began to wonder if a rodent or something crawled into my air vent for warmth and died.  My car is old and if I roll the windows down they will be stuck.  Since it's winter, it's not a gamble I am willing to take.  So I am forced to leave my car with the windows up sealing the odor within it.  You would think the cold temps would help.  My science brain tells me how horrendous this would be in the summer.  The odor would be cooking in an oven all day.  All I could imagine was a dead rodent rotting away in my air vent as I am blowing the air on full blast on my face! 

        Anyway, I get up for my nanny gig and head out to the car.  The stench gags me.  I decide, "F it.  If I'm late, then so be it.  I can't breath this in anymore!"  I drop my back pack on the seat and in the daylight do a full inspection of my car.  I begin by opening the hood, prepared to find the dead animal wrapped up in it somewhere.  To my surprise, nothing.  I sniff around and it just smells enginey.  I open the back doors and look around for anything but I only find a few water bottles and a coat.  I open my passenger door and look around.  Nothing.  Then I stuck my head down to look under the seat.....

        For the love of all things holy, I think I blacked out!  The odor hit my face, permeated my pores, and settled deep into my lungs.  I stood up and took in some fresh air.  Gathered my bearings and went back to look under the seat.  I opened my eyes and there it was.  An old rotted banana.  Yup the one that I was going to eat the day #meanman tried to kill me.  I must have knocked it off with my backpack and forgotten about it.  I went inside the house and grabbed a rubber glove, a baggie, carpet cleaner, and a rag.  I put the glove on and stuck my arm under the seat.  I held my breath and closed my eyes, I grabbed the now black banana and shoved it into the baggie.  Keeping it at arms length, I kicked up the trash can, sealed the baggie, and tossed it in.  I went back and with my breath held and one eye open I sprayed the cleaner and give it a scrub. 

        It's been a couple days now and it still smells a monkey puked in my car.  I hate that winter makes my car so dirty, but it's a million times worse when the inside smells too.  And I am still undecided if working out is the fault of this.  I mean, I wouldn't have left a banana on my seat and I wouldn't have been in a daze to forget about it....   Alas, I think I will keep going.   Meanwhile, does anyone know how to get banana rot out of floorboards??

Excuse me, Mr. Officer

        So earlier this week I got a message from my aunt that my cousin was in town with her baby and they were going to dinner.  I was just finishing up my super sweet nannying gig when I got the text.  The adorable fella I nanny loves me no matter how I look.  And, cause he's a baby, things can get messy so I don't typically dress to the nines for him.  I sent a text back explaining that I was just finishing up there and I would need to go home to get ready for dinner out.  I was basically told to hurry, cause true to my deep seeded ways, I don't get ready quickly.  I love to play with make up and hair stuff and I am easily distracted by my phone, the TV, and dancing to my music.  I just run on my own time and do what I want.  Anyway, I rush home and do my best to get ready as quickly as I can.  By the time I am walking out of the door, it's been an hour.  The baby was hungry so I was sent a text to just meet at the restaurant.  It's less than 10 minutes away, but assuming they are already there waiting on me, I needed be there in like 5 minutes.

        In order to cut that time frame down I need to take some shortcuts and take them quickly.  There are a few different ways to get there and I quickly calculate the best route to take.  As soon as I am headed one direction, I regret my decision and feel even more rushed.  So I allow my lead foot to take the lead.  I rush down my street and take a quick turn to the left.  I get to the first stop sign and look both ways, stop briefly, and continue on ahead.  I approach the second stop sign in my quiet neighborhood.  Barely make a complete stop and go right.  It's a short jaunt to another (unnecessary) stop sign where I will turn left.  The stop sign that follows this one is a doozy cause you have to turn left again across a couple lanes of traffic and Iowa drivers are timid and wait til there is no car in sight to attempt the turn.  Then they hesitate til another car passes and they still don't go!  UGH!  It's vicious and it's where my road rage tempts fate.  So as I approach the unnecessary stop, I see to the right headlights coming around the bend.  I immediately think, "Aw hell naw!  You are not getting in front of me, buster!  Not gonna wait for 2 weeks behind you while you play chicken at the stop sign."  Annnnnd that's where things turned...

        I made the executive decision to California Roll through the stop.  For those of you that aren't familiar with the offensive driving technique, here is the Urban Dictionary definition -

A Californian's response to the "Stop" sign.  
The California Roller slows down slightly while rolling through an intersection as an acknowledgement that the local Department of Public Safety has gone to the expense and trouble of placing a traffic control sign or blinking red light there.

I rolled on through turning left and gaining momentum when suddenly the head lights behind me faded into the bright red and blue flashing LEDs that were now behind me.  Fuck.  I try to push my rapidly beating heart from my throat back into place as I move to the side of the road. 

        Now I have a ton of thoughts rapidly running through my head.  First off, I wanna punch myself in the face for the California Roll.  How could I be so stupid?!  But then I am thinking about the fact that, while my license is current, I have my expired one still in my wallet.  And now my insurance is on a app on my phone, did I even download that app?  It's dark outside and my car is old and the windows will get stuck if I roll them down. (for DAYS.  And no, you cant just pull them up)  So I need to open the door.  What if he thinks I am reaching for a gun and he shoots me?!?  OMG!  Maybe he will tase me!  Will I pee my pants?  It's too cold out to have urine soaked pants or to fall onto the ground outside.  Then he will knee my head to the ground while he waits for back up.  My face will be frost bitten!  Crap.  Everyone is gonna be saying "You see Amber on the arrest reports?"  They will look at me with their judgy eyes at the store and at work.  Oh GOD!  Can I lose my job if they shoot me or arrest me.  Dammit!  Why didn't I stop?!

       I am carefully watching in my side mirror to see his door open.  My eyes are watering.  No, not from crying.  From those freakin LED lights!!  Seriously, I think those are dangerously bright.  Have you ever just driven past someone being pulled over at night or a grip of them at the scene of a nighttime accident?  It is astonishing that they can be so freakin bright!  Anyway, I see the door open and I swallow deeply.  He's been behind me now (presumably running my plates, checking my facebook, calling my parents, and loading his gun) for enough time that my heart beat, though fast, has regulated.  I am trying to keep an eye on the door through the flashing glow of the lights.  I am looking for him to get out so I have my hands up to show him that I am harmless and more scared of him than he is of me.  I need to alert him that my windows are broken and that I need to open the door. 

        The door closes.  I missed seeing him get out.  So I sit up and straight and have my hands up. And suddenly I see him whisk by me.  I am left in the dark.  Looking ahead I see him California Roll through that stop and turn left.  I can hear his sirens.

       I sit there.  My hands are still in the air.  WTF am I supposed to do?  Surly he ran my plates.  Is he coming back?  Did they tag team and someone else is swinging by to write my ticket?  Should I leave?  I look around.  Dumbfounded.  I am trying to process what just happened.  Eventually I decide to leave.  I slowly place my hands at 10 and 2 and get back on my route.  I was half way to the restaurant.  The rest of the way I kept Mario Andretti under wraps and followed the rules of the road with caution and persistence.

        I got to the restaurant within minutes of the others.  Managed to look fly and get out of a ticket without even taking the girls out...  :)

Drive carefully, my friends.  Make complete stops.  Have valid licenses.  Proof of insurance.  And don't get shot.

Tinkle Tinkle

        Know what sucks?  Public restrooms.  Well, for females at least. Guys have it easy.  They can pee any place they desire.  Outside on the tree in the backyard, in a potted plant, in an alley; it makes no difference really. (Not that I am saying it’s ok.)  But, we women are forced into nasty over used and under cleaned facilities.  Call me a bathroom snob, but very few public restrooms are up to par for my dainty booty!  Sometimes you walk in and everything is dripping wet!  It’s like you’ve stumbled upon a cave!  They are dank, dark, smelly, and just plain gross!  But alas, when you gotta go, you gotta go.

        First, is the task of locating the cleanest stall, assuming that you have a choice.  Some people kick each door in; however, I choose to gingerly push them with one finger.  While holding my breath, I survey the stall.  I’m looking for an empty bowl with zero signs of leftover poo, no TP on the floor but plenty on the roll, no signs of womanhood halfway hanging out of the trash, ideally a dry floor and no piddle on the seat.  Once I’ve made my choice, I take a breath.  Not a whiff, just a closed mouth (ALWAYS closed mouth) breath.  If I didn’t nearly pass out and my eyes didn’t water, I enter the stall.

        Now, this is an entire issue of its own!  It must have been a skinny man that was the inventor of bathroom stalls.  Firstly, the doors typically open inward.  This may seem like no big deal, except the door opens within two inches of the toilet seat.  Dumb.  That means that I need to either squeeze between the wall and the toilet seat (naturally, only if there is no smeared remnants of poo or boogers or whatever the hell people wipe all over bathroom walls!), or do the Toilet Seat Straddle.  The TSS, as we will call it, means you must bear hug your belongings, spread your legs wide enough to clear the seat, bend your knees and shimmy, shake, or walk your way into the stall like you are playing Operation, except instead of just getting a buzz for touching the sides, you get a flesh eating bacteria or herpes!  Once you completely enter the stall you can reach around and push the door closed using your foot (ideally, but requires a level 2 skill set of the TSS) or by using your hand or clothing covered booty.  Then you do the TSS in reverse!  What makes that all even more fun?  Winter.  A bulky coat, boots, and a guaranteed wet floor, seriously a good time!

       Once I’ve hung my items on the hook (God, I hope there’s a hook!) I begin the “Protection of the Nether Reigon” portion of potty time.  There are undoubtedly germs swarming the throne.  So protection is a priority.  First option is seat covers.  Usually provided in-stall.  I very carefully pull one out, taking extra caution on the sides to avoid rippage.  Then cautiously rip the perforations to open the seat of the liner.  I carefully place the liner on the seat and pray to all of the Gods that it stays put!  If there are no seat covers, then I have to employ a little bathroom arts and crafts and make one.  I will rip off strips of toilet paper and, with careful precision and order, I set them on the seat covering all surfaces.  Once the germ barrier is complete, I pray.  Always pray.  This is where I will quickly drop my drawers and double check that nothing has moved.  Cause frequently, one of two things will happen… 1) The toilet auto flushes. Or 2) A mysterious breeze comes along and blows away my cover.  As maddening as this is, I will repeat the entire process until I win.

*Side Note:  I have noticed, mostly in airports actually, that there is now a toilet seat that is equipped with a liner.  Basically when the toilet is flushed the liner replaces itself.  There is a machine of sorts on the back of the seat and the liner will roll into it and come out the other side.  Like it’s one continuous liner that in some way gets sanitized in the machine.       And I don’t trust it.       As a child of the modern world, I know how technology can go haywire.  How do we know that the sanitizer part of the machine is working?  Like the machine can rotate the liner in and out but what if the sanitizer portion malfunctions?  How would we ever know? I understand the concept, and kudos for going green, but I still think it is too risky for my caboose.

        Now it’s time to sit.  Or hover.  I typically prefer the hover method.  First, it’s a bonus leg workout.  Second, it avoids the hazards of sitting.  What hazards, you ask?  Well, as previously indicated, you could lose the liner and your precious flesh will land on the same seat that everyone else as peed and pooed on today.  Also, sitting brings you closer to the water.  This means when the auto-flusher flushes, your nether regions are subject to the fearful and dreaded backsplash!  Ew!!  Made worse by the level of bathroom cleanliness and/or whatever waste you’ve contributed to the bowl.  Ugh!  I feel sick just thinking about this catastrophe!  Finally, and almost as bad as backsplash, is a loose toilet seat.  This is most problematic when you shift on the seat to wipe, or whatever, and some booty or thigh meat gets caught all up under the seat.  It is literally the toilet seat biting you!  You will bleed, scream, and cry all in one movement.  Let’s not forget that now you have an OPEN WOUND in GERMTOWN!  UGH!   Anyway, the point here is to hover.  Sit when you need to but hover when you can.

        As a female, there is no shaking it off.  I must use the paper and wipe.  First of all, another design flaw of the potty stall, is the placement of the toilet paper roll holders.  They are almost on the floor.  In. Every. Single. Bathroom!  I have to bend waaay down (triggering the flippin auto-flusher) and do hand yoga to get up and under the holder to grasp the paper.  Seriously, this could be an Olympic sport and I’d like to think I would place well in my weight division.  Then I’ve gotta carefully pull the roll and hope that I manage to get more than a square at a time.  I feel more proud of myself for getting a 3 or more square section than I do for passing my college finals.  Mostly, it seems that public restrooms have rough transparent TP that rips off in small pieces.  It then becomes about getting a pile of pieces together that is large enough to do the job.  Alas, this cheap excuse for TP does a terrible job of cleaning up.  It slips faster than a roofie in a college bar and collects zero particles along the way.   After a few concentrated wiping efforts, I flush.

        I will not be one of those rude bathroom trolls that leave my “bidness” in the bowl for the next user to stumble upon.  So I gather my belongings and ensure the auto-flusher flushed.  If the toilet is manual, than I raise a leg and kick the button or lever.  I have seen some questionable residue on them and will NOT flush the toilet by hand.  Before I do that, however, I do the TSS to open the door and get out of the stall.  I fear a strong backsplash with the height capabilities to hit my face.   I think that holding my breath with a grimace helps somehow.  So I will stretch into the stall enough to flush then quickly and swiftly exit the stall.  After this, I wash up.

        I try to make this an easy task.  I look for a sink that is not covered in standing water.  Cause my foodie physique may touch the counter top and it’s not very attractive to have a water stain across the mid-section.  Not to mention, I don’t need to draw any extra attention to my soft body type.   I look for a dispenser that appears to have soap and then place my belongings in-between my legs.  I roll up my sleeves and turn the water on.  (Two things – why, for the love of God, do so many bathrooms lack hot water??  And what is the deal with the push faucets??)   I lather up and scrub partially up my arms cause germs are gross.  And then waddle, while still holding my stuff with my thighs, to the dryers or towels.  If I can pick, I choose towels.  I did a research project in school once and the blowers harbor bacteria that blows out onto your hand when they are activated.  So towels.  Then I grab my stuff and prep for my exit.  On the way to the door I grab a paper towel or two and use them as a barrier on the door handle if the door opens in.  If there is not a close trash can, I will hold open the door with my foot, take a leap back with my other foot, and then use my middle school H.O.R.S.E. skills to make the towel into the basket.  Easy peasy.  Not.

        Public places are gross.  I don’t think that janitors clean them like I would clean my home.  And one too many 20-20 shows have engrained suspicion and horror into my brain.  But at the end of the day, my bladder only holds so much.  And worse yet, my Crohn’s likes to come out and play whenever the hell it feels like it.  So, yeah.