Kissable Carlene

Last night was apparently one of those “drink a large bottle of Ommegang Abbey Ale alone and pass out on the couch while reading” kind of nights, and rise to the occasion I did.

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Bridesmaid Dresses

Only a mildly traumatic experience

My evening started by trying on brides-maid dresses for the upcoming wedding of one of my best friends. It was a traumatic event, as I suspected it would be; I walked into David’s Bridal like a soldier entering enemy territory. My own wedding plans basically involve an open Facebook invite for anyone who wants to fly to Ireland and watch me elope, be-cause I cannot handle the white satin reality that is the American Dream Wedding.

I managed to make it through in one piece, found a pretty bridesmaid’s dress, and my friend was happy, which is the only thing that matters in the end.

Afterwards, I stopped by the bank ATM to deposit cash to cover the check I had written to my property manager earlier in the day.  I guess if I go by the technical definition of a “hot check” I sort of wrote him one, although it was only because I hadn’t been able to get to the bank in time.

I went to the ATM, put in my card and PIN, pushed the “Cash Deposit” button, and tried to quickly count to make sure there were fewer than 40 bills.  For some reason, during deposits the ATM beeps with an awful, panic-inducing sound that screams, “You’re not doing this fast enough!”  It kept throwing my counting off, and I finally just shoved the whole pile of cash into the opening.

The ATM started to adjust the money, and, realizing I had put the money in completely crooked, I tried to “help” straighten it out, only to have the machine stop beeping and freeze…with $650 of my rent money hanging out the front.  An error message popped up on the screen: “This ATM is not currently able to accept cash deposits,” and I was left with the interesting choice of yanking six hundred dollars out of a high-security device, or calling the bank or the cops or someone qualified to fix the issue.

Obviously, I wrenched my money out.  All the bills survived, although my faith in technology being ready to handle human error did not.

Armed will a huge stack of cash in my purse, I walked to the supermarket next door and grabbed a bottle of Ommegang Abbey Ale.  I love having a local brewery that’s available at the supermarket; it helps me support my community with the least amount of effort possible.  Despite the “everything seems to be going wroooong” trend to my night,  I finished off the evening happily drinking my Abbey Ale while geeking out over a Terry Goodkind novel.

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