April 22, 2013


Before I begin, to all 17 of my followers I would like to apologize for my hiatus.  What have I been doing since August of 2011, you ask?  Well, I have been quite busy.  I was working and living in Tulsa, Oklahoma but then I met a wonderful man and decided to make a few changes to be closer to him.  Now, I'm living in DFW, Texas working on a completely new career path and loving life.  Actually, it was my sweet boyfriends encouragement that prompted me to start blogging again.  You can either thank him or curse him after you read my story...

Today is Monday and I had been trying all weekend to find an opportunity to tell you all my next story.  It apparently wasn't in the cards... or the schedule because I just never could find the time.  Now the weekend is over and I should be at work right now but it seems fate would have me tell my story after all.  It even went as far as to create a "Story of Abby" moment for me to be able to stay home and tell you my "Story of Abby" story.  (This morning I went to get in my car to go to work and the battery was dead.  I had no other way to get to work so naturally I called in.  And that leads me to the present, and my next blogging installment.)  It really is funny how things work out...

I'm excited about telling you this story because I get to introduce to you another fun character in my life.  She has been a great friend to me ever since college and remains a great friend to this day.  Her name is Dottie.

Dottie (left) and Abby at the Tulsa Zoo

One of the best things about a friend like Dottie is that when ridiculous things happen we can laugh forever about them... like until my face hurts.  Things never stop being funny.  Whether we're cracking up at my drunk neighbors singing sad country songs while trying to make musical instruments with their empty beer bottles or we see someone fall and bust their butt on a slippery bowling alley lane, funny things are 10 times funnier when they happen around Dottie.  I'd like to say that this is a story like that... a funny one where I do something stupid and we laugh about it all day. This story is quite different, but a "Story of Abby" story nonetheless.

It all started one day when I was in college.  Dottie and I wanted to do something fun so we decided to go to the mall.  Unfortunately, there was no mall in the small town where we attended college so we were forced to drive about 30 minutes away into the city of Muskogee, Oklahoma.  That's right, "Okie from Muskogee" is about a real place!  We had a great time going to thrift stores (we were poor), and to the mall to buy some more hermit crab food for my two hermit crabs, and window shopping the latest fashions.  Everything was same old, same old until our day started to come to a close.

We had been driving around for the majority of the day so before we left Muskogee to head back home we decided to stop for gas.  Now, I'm not the type to call anyone out so I'm not going to name the gas station chain that this story happened at... but lets just call it "8-Twelve".  Dottie was gassing up her car and asked me to go inside and pay.  This was back in the good 'ole days when you could fill up your car for under $20 so that's what I took in with me, a $20 bill.  As I'm walking into the store I'm not thinking anything crazy is about to happen.  In fact, I'm almost certain the only thing on my mind was whether I wanted Twizzlers or Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (yum!) for the ride home.  But as soon as I walked in and saw the cashier, food was the last thing on my mind.

He was a middle-aged man who had long, scraggly hair, was terribly thin and is best described as Iggy Pop's twin brother.

Iggy Pop

The crazy thing is his appearance wasn't the thing that frightened me.  It was the fact that he was bleeding... profusely from his hand and wrist!  I'm not talking about a little bit of red running down his arm.  Nearly his entire forearm, from his hand to his elbow, was covered in blood.

I stopped dead and stared at him as he frantically searched the area behind the counter for something to stop the bleeding.  I'm not sure at what point he even noticed I had come into the store but it was probably about the time I regained my composure and asked him, "Are you okay?!"  His head popped up and he looked at me nervously, not answering my question.  So I asked him again, "Sir, are you alright?!  Do I need to call someone?!"  Well, that got his attention.  "No!", he practically screamed at me.  He turned around quickly and saw a paper towel dispenser behind the counter, looking at it as if he'd never seen it before even though he works there.  He began pumping paper towels out, smearing blood all over the dispenser as he proceeded to ask me for a favor.  "Umm... do you think that you can find me some band-aids out there on the shelf?" 

Band-aids?!  "Sir, I think you're going to need a lot more than band-aids for that mess!  I'm going to call 911."

"No!  Please don't!  I'm fine really!" he said to me.  At that time, he walks wildly to the back of the behind-the-counter area to a sink that is barely visible to me.  I hear the water turn on and assume he's washing his hands and arm.  He returns shortly with new makeshift bandages covering his injury but at least his other hand is clean now.  The cut is so deep, I can already see blood soaking thru the new dressings.  He continues, with his arm wrapped in cheap blood-soaked paper towels, like nothing is wrong... "That'll be, uh, $16.34 on pump #3."

I stared cautiously at him as I slipped my $20 over the counter.  He's very jumpy as he reaches out, takes my bill and begins to one-handed make my change in the till. 

And as if this whole thing isn't already bad enough, he says this to me... "I'm sorry I'm so panicked.  I just, uh, I have to be so careful when it comes to my blood.  You see, I've got something you cant get rid of." Then he winked at me.  I promise on my life, he winked at me. All this with one hand in the till making my $3.66 change and the other raised in the air to slow the bleeding.

I can only image what my face did, but I know what my mouth said.  I immediately responded by telling him to keep his bloody (literally) change and I booked it outta there!  As I was walking back to Dottie, another customer was about to come in and I stopped him right away.  I told him a quick 10 second synopsis of what had just occurred and he quickly turned around, got in his car and left the parking lot almost as fast as Dottie and I did.

Now, I don't know that cashier and I'm not sure what he meant by, "I've got something you can't get rid of."  And I don't know how he came to be covered in blood.  I can only speculate.  You can hate me for judging the guy if you want but I do not regret high-tailing it from that place as fast as I could.  After telling Dottie the story in the car, we didn't laugh even once.  To this day I don't think we've ever talked about this and laughed.

For days I felt gross, icky, like I needed a shower... and a blood test.  I had just had this disgusting encounter with a hopped-up Iggy Pop in a sketchy convenience store in Muskogee, Oklahoma and it was all I could think about.  It wasn't until a few days later that I realized I never even got my Twizzlers and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups :o(

This is the kinda thing that could only happen to me.  It's the story of my life... it's the Story of Abby.

August 3, 2011

Stuck Like Glue


Where do I even begin? I love weddings, really I do. But as a 27 year old, single girl, I have grown to despise them in the last few years. The only great thing about them is seeing my friends so happy. I have had the privilege of being a bridesmaid SEVEN times and they have all been great. This last one was no different. In fact, it was one of my favorites. Everything about being a part of this particular wedding was fun besides one part. Follow along and I'll tell you all about it... 

 One of my dearest friends, Angel, got married about a month ago to one of the most wonderfully nerdy guys I've ever met. He loves Jesus and Angel and I have no doubt they'll be happy together for the rest of their lives. I was very excited when Angel asked me to be a bridesmaid and I figured with all my experience I could be a star helper with some of the preparations. I love doing that stuff... buying reception decorations, making roses out of fondant, cutting out millions of hearts from peacock feathers... that's where I thrive. 

You know what part I hate about being a bridesmaid? The dress... 

In all of my wedding experience I can think of only 2 where I actually liked my dress and felt comfortable in it. Part of the problem is I'm a big girl, and lets just be honest, not everything looks good on a big girl. The other part of the problem is that BRIDESMAID DRESSES ARE UGLY. There are so few that even look good on skinny girls! You know its true, I know its true, we all know its true. The number one way I make it through the awful dress experiences is by repeating over and over to myself, "this is not MY day, no one will be looking at me anyways, all eyes will be on the bride, I will have my day..." 

Hearing of Angel's engagement, learning about the colors, theme, and decorations for the wedding was all so exciting, but my enthusiasm was abruptly thwarted when she called to tell me all the 'maids were meeting at David's Bridal in a couple weeks to find our dresses and get fitted. 

"Two weeks from Friday? That sounds great! I'm so pumped!" I fibbed. 

Now, don't get me wrong, I will do whatever the bride wants and I really do have a great time through the whole wedding planning but the dress part can be awful! So, naturally I wasn't really looking forward to it. 

Angel was a great bride, the anti-bridezilla really. She even let all five of us bridesmaids pick whatever dress we wanted. They didn't have to look alike or anything as long as they were the right color. We were all thrilled about that decision and when "two weeks from Friday" came along we quickly tore through the racks picking this dress and that dress and ran back to the fitting rooms to claim our changing stalls. We were having a great time trying on all different styles and soon the fitting area was full of happy bridesmaids asking each other, "Can you zip this up for me?" and "Will you unzip me please? I gotta try on another!" This went on for about 20 minutes and as one of my fellow bridesmaids quickly zipped me up then scurried off to her stall to try on a her next gown, I turned around and saw the green dress I was wearing in the mirror. I knew right away it was going to be the one I wanted. It was strapless, kelly green, knee length and it had pockets. It was so cute!

We had all tried on at least 7 or 8 dresses at this point, so imagine our surprise when we walked out of our fitting rooms at the exact same moment, wearing the ones we had chosen and they were all the same dress! It was one of those rare, glorious wedding moments where the planets align and you realize this is going to be one of the few planning decisions that is going to come easy. 

Laughter ensued as the realization settled in that we all had on the same dress, and the one time the bride doesn't ask us all to wear the same style, we accidentally choose it anyways. It was really quite funny, and it turned out to be the first of many hilarious memories we all made throughout the months to come preparing for this wedding. 

After we all took a moment and took pictures, we went back into our fitting rooms to change out of our matching dresses. Now, if you re a girl you probably know its much easier to unzip a dress than it is to zip it up. So, as I got in my stall I reached back to unzip my new dress. I pulled the zipper and it got about 2 inches down then... "This isn't happening..." I panicked and said quietly to myself. Another tug... "C'mon you rascally thing!" Nothing... I tried zipping it up.. you know that trick that everyone tries but it rarely ever helps the situation? No movement at all. "Piece of trash, unzip, already!

At this point, my friend in the stall next to me says, "Abby? Umm... are you alright?" I told her no and asked her to please come over and unzip my dress because it was jammed. She giggled and came over to my fitting room after she had finished changing. Now, this coincidentally was the same girl that had zipped my dress up. She pulled on the zipper and nothing... My poor friend tried so hard and could not get it unzipped. Turns out when it was zipped up, the hanger string accidentally got zipped up in the zipper and was NOT coming out. 

So, after being passed around from friend to friend and no one being able to unzip me, we had to call for back up. And by back up I mean, the dress specialists that work at the bridal store. "Wow, this thing is really stuck, huh?" says the specialist, made only more awkward by the nervous laugh she tacked on the end of the statement and the fact that shes not being discreet about my situation at all. So, there I am, standing in the fitting area, mirrors everywhere, girls trying on wedding dresses, making one of the most special decisions of their lives, and I'm in the background with this dress stuck on me and the specialist tugging at the zipper til were both blue in the face. Still, nothing.

Then, just when you think this situation cannot get any worse she suggests the most embarrassing option, "Well, I just cant get it! I think we need to take you to alterations and cut you out."

That's right, cut... me... out. I have never been more embarrassed in my life as I was when she led me through the store to the very back corner and into the alterations department. I felt like I was being prepped for surgery, or like a pig being led to the slaughterhouse. It was absolutely awful. 

Upon entering the alterations room, the seamstress turned me around, snipped the entire zipper out and sent me on my way. The specialist had disappeared as well, leaving me to take the walk of shame all the way back to the fitting rooms on my own. My friends of course, were cracking up. And looking back, it is pretty funny. I mean, leave it to the big girl to get stuck in the bridesmaids dress, right?! Still, as funny as it may be now, at the time it was mortifying. 

That's the kind of thing that could only happen to me. That's the story of my life... That's the Story of Abby. 

P.S. This wedding ended up being the most fun, stress-free wedding I've ever been a part of.  Thanks Angel, Rachel, Haven, Alisha and Randi :)

June 4, 2011

"You Don't Know What A Crazy Person'll Do!"

First off, let me start by saying that this post is being specifically written for the 24-Hour Blogathon going down in Enid this weekend.  In honor of this event I am writing about something that happened to me a few months back in my hometown.  If you would like more information about the 24-Hour Blogathon, check out the blog of my good friend, Eric at www.followeric.com.     
If you have followed my blog for a while, hopefully you’ll remember a couple of my stories about my old Chevy Blazer.  You know the one… it broke down in the middle of nowhere at 1am… I put weather stripping in the door and took a shower in the front seat… Yep!  That’s the one!  Well, I must be moving up in the world because I finally got rid of it and bought a new car.  But fear not, my friends.  I’m sure there are more Blazer stories to come because I sold it to my parents… suckers. 
In February I became the proud owner of a Volkswagen New Beetle.  I know, I know… you either love this car or hate this car.  Most people hate it but I don’t care.  I think it’s cute. And guess what?  It starts when I tell it to AND it doesn’t stop until I tell it to either!  That was very hard to get used to but it’s become one of my favorite features of the car.  After minutes and minutes of deliberation, I decided to name him Baron Umberto Grunewald but I just call him “The Baron”.
In the middle of March I planned a trip to drive back to my hometown, Enid, to surprise my dad for his birthday.  I hadn’t been home in over 6 months and a lot of it was because I didn’t trust my Blazer to get me there and back in one piece!  But with The Baron, that was no longer an issue.  I was free to roam the open road to my heart’s content.  And roam I did.  I was so thrilled to get on the highway and know that The Baron wasn’t going to
1)    overheat
2)    spew water
3)    smoke like a chimney
It felt great to finally have some confidence in my vehicle. The only thing was that on this trip I still had a temporary paper tag from the dealership and I hadn't got my insurance switched over to the new car. I know that's irresponsible but I just hadn't gotten it done yet!
I tell you all of this so you will know, after reading this story that what proceeded to occur this fateful night in Enid was in no way The Baron’s fault.  He’s a good car, nay, a great car! He just has a ridiculous owner…
This story really begins in Tulsa.  I was just getting off work at 7am and was preparing to leave and head for E-town.  I had already packed my car up and left straight from work.  I was actually really excited to go home and see my family and friends.  So excited in fact, that I completely forgot to go to the ATM before I left town and get cash out for the toll booths between Tulsa and Enid. 
There are exactly 2 toll booths between the cities and in all of my years traveling between the two, I had never forgotten the cash.  I didn’t even know what would happen if you got to the toll and didn’t have money.  But I found out...  Apparently you have to exit the highway, drive 20 miles down the road to a terrifying town called Oilton, exit your vehicle, enter the single town gas station, use their ATM while being oogled by old guys in overalls and no teeth, scurry back to your vehicle then drive the 20 miles back to the same toll booth and pay.
That is "Story of Abby" enough really but it gets even better.  After all of that I finally I get home!  I pull up in front of my parents house and get out to the trunk to unload some of my things when, what should my lovely eyes behold?    My temporary tag from the dealership is nowhere to be found!  And since I had pretty much done laps around the Sooner State all morning, Lord only knows where it ended up!  So, by now I’m in a bad mood.  I have been up all night because I worked, I forgot the toll cash, I had to go 40 miles out of the way, I had creepy old guy images in my head and now my tag was gone.  It wasn’t even 10am! My mood was so horrible that when I walked in the house I looked at my dad, said “surprise” with a frown on my face and went straight to my room and went to sleep.
While I was pouting/sleeping, my dad called the Police Department to ask what we should do.  They were so helpful.  “Don’t drive it or you’ll get a ticket.”
So, here I am.  First time home in 6 months, new car that I can’t drive, confined to my parents home for the next 48 hours.  I can’t go anywhere, I can’t go see my friends, I can’t even go to Davinci’s for coffee!  Luckily my sister came over in the evening and we played hours of “Just Dance!”  Working it out with some Beyonce and Ke$ha always makes me feel better.  But at 2am I had had enough with being quarantined!  I was breaking out!  Car tag or not!
So my sister and I hop in The Baron and take off!  Driving that thing like we stole it! Avoiding the po-po at every turn.  We were cruising all over town, hitting up all the good spots… Walmart, Van Buren drag… then at 2:10am, after going everywhere fun, we decided to drive through McDonald’s.  I can eat McNuggets anytime, anywhere.
Pulling into McDonald’s we noticed straight away that we picked the worst time to come.  It was 2:15am and the bars had just closed so all of the loonies in Enid were either at IHOP or in the drive-thru at McDonalds.  Do you know how many loonies are in Enid?! A LOT!  I immediately got nervous because if you've spent any time in Enid at all you know that anywhere there is a hoard of drunk people theres gonna be cops. And I was driving a car with no tag and no insurance. 

But I had worked up quite an appetite dancing so I decided to chance it for bthe nuggets. We were the fifth car in line at the drive-thru and it was moving sloooooooow. Finally I saw those break lights from car number one go off and it started to move. Then car number two moved up. Then car number three. Then car number fo... Wait, why isn't car number four moving?  "Hello! Car number four!  MOVE!"  Still nothing. So, being the obnoxious person that I am, I start inching up little by little, getting as close as I can to car number four, trying to tick them off enough so they'll move. I was approximately 3.657 inches from them and still... No movement. 

Now at this point I'm pretty annoyed. And I thought there was nothing else in the world that could make me even more annoyed but then the car behind me, car number six, whips around me AND car number four and cuts in line!! I know, right?! 

After that I just wanted to go home. I was mad and angry and I was still nervous about the po-po. But we were already here so I just reversed a bit and proceeded to pull around car four. I thought of a few mean things I wanted to do or say to car number fours' driver as I pulled around but none of them were things Jesus would do so I decided against them all. I was just going to smile politely and keep moving. But when I pulled up next to them my sister and I noticed the driver of the car was passed out STONE COLD in the front seat!  I mean head rolled over to the side, eyes glazed over, passed out! 

My sister immediately gets out of the car to see if she's okay, I go park the car. I expected my sister to knock on the passenger side window to get the lady's attention or maybe even the drivers side but no, she is rushing the driver, opening the door, trying to wake her up. I jumped outta my car and screamed at my sister across the parking lot, "Don't touch her! You don't know what a crazy person'll do!"  Obviously my sister ignored me. And I know she meant well but I was scared the person would wake up and shoot my sister! But as hard as she tried she could not get car number fours' driver to regain consciousness. Thank God her car was a standard and we were on level ground!

This whole time car number's seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven... are all just passing us! Going around us in the line like nothing was happening. Dang drunks. 

After minutes of trying to wake the lady we had no choice but to call the police. That's right, the po-po. The one group of people we'd been trying all night to avoid!  My sister dialed 911 and while we were waiting for them another girl came to help and was trying to find the drivers' identification or insurance.  And I should have been over trying to help my sister keep things in control, but all I could think about was getting busted for my own lack of valid car information!  I even panicked and pulled my car out of my parking spot and reparked with my car reversed so when the officers came they wouldn't notice The Baron's tagless behind. 

Luckily for me since my sister is the one who called in the crazy lady they only needed her information. I narrowly escaped a trip to the clinker!  But I'll tell you, I was a nervous wreck the whole time we were talking with the police! My heart rate was up so high and I could just see me calling 911 to turn someone in and ending up in jail myself! That's the story of my life... Thats the Story of Abby.