Hey all! Sarah here writing here after officilly moving into my new Harrisonburg house... the Funkhouse. I thought I had prepped myself for like there without the Dollhouse... but the first night there showed me I wasn't quite as prepared as I had thought. The new girls I live with are great, in fact, the best I would want to live with if I can't be with the 5. I drove to the Burg and went straight to my new job training and couldn't wait to get home afterwards, so I proceeded to drive to the Dollhouse and realized, oops. Wrong house. So I drove to the new house and started getting used to this new life!
Rocket (aka Sara Blankenship) got to train me for my job since I'm taking hers and it is the ideal job for a college student. Check it: 10 hours a week, $10 an hour, 3-5 five days a week of the easiest job known to man (running paperwork to the courthouse, which means driving), the company footing the bill for gas and I get to tell people I work in an attorney's office. Sweet. So after two days of job training, I started my first day on my own on Friday. A little nervous. A little anxious. It's one of those things that is so easy, it could potentially make you look like a huge idiot if you mess up. Plus most of the work is handling larer ammounts of money than I will be making at this job all semester, so it could be disasterous should something bad happen. Anyway, first day was going well, I was driving to the courthouse when the skies opened u and it rained like it was the end of the world. Awesome. So I had to get to the courthouse by 4 when it closed, and I was doing well on time since it was 3:40. Suddenly, the dreaded blue lights came on behind me. "But I'm not speeding!" I thought. I pulled over, praying the police would go around me and just be on their way. But no. He pulled up behind me, got out (in the rain!) and asked me for my liscence and registration. Nooooooo! I was pretty frantic at this point, the time being 3:45 and I'm thinking, "why on my first day?!?!." I asked him with rising panic how long he thought it would take, and then started explaining that it was my first day and the courthouse was closing soon, very soon. I'm not sure I actually explained myself very coherently, but I think my voice was getting higher and higher and he noticed I was on the verge of tears and he got that look on his face that men do when a woman is about to start crying: the one where their eyebrows go up and they back up a step and there eyes get big and they start putting their hands up in a "stop" position. Panic. So he explained that my inspection date had expired but he would just give me a warning if I promised to get it checked. Whew. Crisis averted. I even managed to make him laugh, though not intentionally, when I in my panic handed him my USAA info instead of my car registration, to which he replied "uuuuh, close enough." Thanks po-po! Needless to say I didn't tell my new bosses about the incident.
In other news, Thursday night was salsa night at the rtful Dodger. Words cannot capture the sketchy and odd things that go down thursday nights at the Dodger, but let me say that these nights are simultaneously shocking, hilarious and very fun. At one point one of the Latino men cornered me and felt it was his job to teach me Spanish. I learned to say "I like to dance" and thought that would be enough to satisfy him, but he thought we should probably, you know, exchange numbers so we could... um, continue my education in Spanish. I managed to convince him that in our American culture that the woman calls the man, which baffled him and he kept saying "oh, no in mine, not like this." I insisted that yes, he should give me his number instead of me giving him mine, and in the end he acquiesced. Victory. Me gusta bailar!
Dollhouse, I miss you terribly.