Adventures in Miss Information...

There are those magical times where you realize you teach Miss South Carolina, and Nicaragua is no longer in Central America but rather located in the former USSR. And she came to you with these ideas...

All this to say, someone I knew somewhere was giving a make-up assignment on Spanish-speaking countries (no, this was not me, those of you who know me). I was present for this rather, since I was waiting for someone.

As I sat, I heard one person, in great consternation expressed through a thin, whine which could only have been learned through a careful study of Cher from Clueless as a role model, say that they didn't know where Spain was as they looked at a map. "I don't see Spain on this map..."

I was unmoved, seeing, as, the only country in the center of the frame-up on the page was Spain. Then, Eureka! "Wait! Is Eh-spain-ya Spain?" Note that España is not pronounced with an "aina" sound but rather "anya" sound...which elicited a rather loud "duh, as if butchering the pronunciation wasn't evidence of them being, well, the same country" from myself to myself in my head. But it got better...waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay better...

"Um, what, uh, c-continent is Spain on?" Now, this is where I was sure Jesus was coming for me and all his elect because it certainly felt like the end of the world. Thunder roared, and I'm pretty sure I cried a little on the inside. Europe, what a tough mistress you are for us to master! I shutter to think of the countries like South Africa, Rhode Island, and Bel Air you include. Then, banzai! "Is it in Africa?" Now, be honest, did you just say "what the hell?" in your mind? It's okay, I forgive you. Because, let's face it, I drew a complete blank as my brain put together the fact that in the frame-up, just the mere top of Africa was shown in the image, since the continent borders the southern half of the Mediteron%soadi;aieohfwen Ocean (you know, that's how it's spelled), and this confused Captain Cartographina. I had to leave, fearful that I would laugh in this person's presence and destroy the 2.345% shred of pride this person had in their academic prowess. Coming back, what is too violent to mention here, this person's response to what the capital of Espainya (I accidentally gave the answer...because our dear friend could not find it on a map, despite label, blue, circled star). The final response after prodding from someone for the continent was the vast, large continent of France (also in the frame-up image on the page). I received one other alarming piece of news, though, later...

It seems that North America, South America, and Central America are not enough. We need more Americas. But how to create a new one? Or we can take a country that pre-exists in an America, and fuse it to our new, creative America, with a new, creative name...

"Mexico is in Central America, right?"

"No, honey...think..." Common mistake...feels like it should be in Central America, given the culture. Totally understand that...

"South America?"

"No..." [Insert very worried look here] Mayday, Mayday, siren, siren...red flag...downhill...crashing...

"East America?" burning, flames, screaming people dying after the carnage...

At this point, I don't remember what was used to bring me out of shock, an electrode, smelling salts, an ice bath, a cocktail. My mental recovery was a long process, rehab and out-patient were grueling, and I'm still dealing with the emotional scars of it all. Moral of the story? Wallpaper your child's room in maps (you know, the ones without sea monsters), quiz them like a nutcase on the obscurities of the histories of other nations, and read the atlas for them to sleep (lines of latitude and longitude are a quick way to a.....zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....sorry, I fell asleep for 2 seconds just thinking about the degrees, hours, minuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Driving is an adventure...

As Jah will tell you, she has incredible luck at running into the most inconvenient and weirdest traffic related problems in Georgia...

Now, while Georgia can be an "exciting" (isn't that a nice friendly word for the satan's taste of hell traffic we have?) adventure where you might hit a cow, or a chicken, or a deer, or a bear, or yes, an escaped Zebra from the zoo, Jah has some pretty incredible stories from the seat of her Toyota outside of your classic redneck soup du jour ingredient.

When you work an eternity plus a day from your place of employment, it is no wonder that you wish to get home quickly. Yet, inevitably, there is someone who sits at their desk job, waiting for their secret mission telephone call to leave exactly 30 seconds before you do to make you consider hitting that telephone pole to end it all because that guy is totally going 5 in a 40.

Enter Jah, coming home from work on a back roads, one-lane state route in the afternoon, before rush hour, mind you, and it was, the perfect storm...okay, not so much, but the guy was doing 20 in a 45. Being that she wrote the book on driver's etiquette [insert sarcasm], she maintains a very safe distance from the old truck that is pulling what seems to be an uncovered wagon, carbon dated to the 1800s when the western frontier was being populated. As you can imagine (if you are an imaginarian), this fine, roadway approved trailer is fishtailing in front of her. I can imagine her concern, seeing as she had just had her car (which is 2-ish years old, and finally able to speak some and eat solid food) repaired after the aggravated assault a giant log did to her windshield and mirror. But, a fishtailing trailer was not all...

In the trailer was a stack of white somethings. These were uncovered and not secured to the trailer, which was causing more anxiety for my friend. To make matters worse, some of these white somethings were falling out of the trailer, flying everywhere...and then it happened.

Bam! One hit the newly repaired windshield...and flopped down to the windshield wipers. Maneuvering to grab the something, once she had it, all she could hear were the crickets inside her brain as it tried computing. There was a two second delay, as there is anytime the brain cannot compute the absurdity of what it beholds to interpret, for her to know what was in her hand. (When I heard, this story, I gasped as she said it hit the windshield)...

It was a tortilla. You know, a corn tortilla? Delicious and tasty with fajitas or frijoles, tomales or guacamoles. Warmed in a little packet...and here, there was not even the soft serenade of mariachis in the distance to indicate what on God's green earth this was, until the brain finally understood. So, our pioneer man, one can only assume moving west to reclaim what had once been part of the Mexican empire, now a vast land ranchers, casinos, and movie stars, known as Paulding County, was taking a stack of uncovered tortillas in a stage coach to who knows where. All we are missing is the horse...moral of the story? Don't drive on Route 20....and beware of the floppy white things...and get away from people who pull horse-drawn carts behind their '54 Ford pickup...and listen to Mariachi music, it's actually good.

Introduction...

I write another blog about my thoughts, basically, and usually, the tone is pretty serious. And while I would like to pretend that people want to read a mopey person's writing ('cause we all know how much they like to listen to it when said person speaks), I decided I need a more funny, slightly (cough) biting blog about funny stories from the inner workings of a friend of mine - a remix of stuff that comes from both of us and people that we know.

Jah is my friend. I have known her for 12 years, and been close friends with her for about 6 of those. And this whole blog is about the wild and crazy stories (funny and true) that she tells me and I tell her.

So Jah, here goes...