Tag Archives: blonde moments

How NOT To Open the Convertible’s Roof

“It couldn’t be that difficult; we’ll figure it out!”

I was so optimistic! So genuinely happy……so fucking clueless.

Heather and I were looking around the dash of the Camaro SS Convertible for a button that would put the top down.
Our luggage was crammed in the back seat, and after over three hours on a plane, we were ready for some fresh air! (Or at least some free-flowing air, considering I don’t know how “fresh” the air is in L.A.)

We found the button that depicted the car’s roof and knew we were in store for some fun next.

Heather pushed it.

Not a damn thing happened….OH…except the car yelled at us through its illuminated screen to tell us the roof wasn’t unlatched. (Pretty sure it’s bright, red letters read, “Unhook the roof first, dumbasses.”)

Oh!! RIGHT!! ON IT!!!

Immediately we see the handle above our heads. Heather tried pulling it first…and pulled, and yanked, and struggled.


It was my turn to give it a go. I pulled….and yanked….and pulled again…and just when I thought my hand was about to slip off, the handle turned.

“A-ha! You have to TURN it, too!!”

At this point, we’re both feeling like the car almost outsmarted us.

So then we push the roof-retracting button again. It begins to make a sound like it will go down, but then immediately stops and flashes some message on the dashboard screen. Another SOMETHING has to be latched.

“WHAT??? (Looked around in bewilderment.) There IS no other SOMETHING TO latch!”

So we begin searching all around the dash again, and after a few more minutes, Heather pulls out her phone.

Yup…we had to Google how to open the rooftop. It turns out that you have to move some cover back into some grooves INSIDE THE TRUNK before opening the ROOF.
Fine. Way to be DIFFICULT!!!!

So now the search was on for the trunk release…which turned into another 3 minutes of our lives used looking for buttons in this car. We found it…pressed it…


At this point, we are at the verge of becoming like chimps and just pushing ALL THE BUTTONS and slamming our fists into the dashboard, as if that will take care of everything!

I grab the owner’s manual from the glove compartment, in search of our answer, when an middle-aged gentlemen who worked for the rental car agency noticed our struggle, and stopped to offer his assistance.

We explained that the trunk wouldn’t open, but we needed to get in there so that we could hook up “the thing into the other thing” so we could open the ROOF!

Pretty sure the guy was convinced we were both airheads as he asked for the keys to the car. We unhooked them from the ignition and handed them over. He proceeded to continually press the trunk button on the key-pad, but to no avail. Then HE started pressing the release that was inside the car, REPEATEDLY…and began scratching his head.


Inside, I think we were dancing with joy together, and throwing imaginary flowers into the air and lifting our hands up to the sun in glee!!!

“Look at us and how we’re not total ditzes! YAY!”

But then, after a few seconds, he says, “OH! You have to hook the roof latch back down before the trunk will open.”

**sad trombone** Waaah Waah Waaaaaah…

So then we struggle with THAT latch again, manage to hook the roof BACK onto the car, pop open the trunk with ease, stretch and insert the bar w/ the trunk cover into its place, UNLATCH the roof AGAIN, press the button….and then it opens.

It only took us about 25 minutes to figure out how to open the damn roof on that pretty car!


Dumbfounded Face

These past few days (and perhaps even the entire week) can really be somewhat summed up in a series of ditzy moments and bouts of anxiety, made by yours truly.

It began on Wednesday night, with a simple purchase.  I had planned on going up the street to CVS after work to buy cheese and wine, because Heather and I were going to have a quiet evening together as a belated birthday “celebration”.  This task sounds simple enough, of course, and at first, I had no worries about it.

 I walked in, trotted straight to the refrigerated wine section, and made my choice—a chilled sauvignon blanc.  I tucked it under my arm as I decided to also add a 6-pack of lo-carb beer to my purchase.

 This is where the anxiety began. 

IMMEDIATELY, my mind began to imagine myself dropping the bottle of wine, leaving broken debris of glass on the ground amidst a giant puddle of alcohol!  Of course, if this happened, I knew that a shard would undoubtedly manage to stab my leg, and then I would probably fall and writhe in pain ON TOP OF THE OTHER SHARDS, with the fermented grape-juice increasing the feelings of pain displeasure!  I would probably end up losing an eye as well….somehow, I WOULD LOSE AN EYE!

So, I stood there for a good 5 seconds, playing this scenario out in my head and debating on whether or not I should put the wine back and  retrieve a shopping cart JUST FOR THE WINE.  A cradle of safety…with wheels….


I walked…..and even with the wine propped under my arm, feeling slick against the material of my coat, I continued…

“Don’t drop the wine, don’t drop the wine, don’t drop the wine…”

I repeated the mantra to myself fervently while carefully walking down the aisle towards the dairy products.

That’s when I discovered a problem.


How can a store sell wine and no cheese!!!???  I took this as a sign that I had better escape that place….and SOON.

I rushed to the counter, while continuing to repeat to myself the warning of NOT letting gravity overtake my wine bottle, and paid for my goods.

I had made it…..but like I mentioned earlier……This….was JUST the beginning.


From CVS, I headed to Heather’s house, with the grim news that I failed to find cheese.  Since I am unfamiliar with where the grocery stores are in the area, we decided to ride together to find our cheese-dinner.

After visiting TWO grocery stores, one of which seemed like some place from a horror film that might include banjos and gunfights, we had obtained an array of cheeses and crackers.  It was finally the time to sit on the couch and visit while sipping wine and bingeing on brie!

I triumphantly stood in the kitchen as I asked heather for the wine opener.  With an air of authority and great meaning, I placed it atop the bottle and began to screw it down…….

(20 minutes later)

I realized that trying to open a bottle of wine with a corkscrew IS NOT EASY when the wine doesn’t have a cork!  (It was a screw off lid.  Of course **disgruntled smirk**)

Also, a circle-shaped-container of brie is a lot easier to open than we tried to make it out to be.  You just open it.  There is no pull-string on the outside of the container.  EVEN IF you look for the said string for a solid 5 minutes, it will not materialize.

The rest of that night was good…as far as I can remember.


And then it was Thursday.  Most of the day went by without a flaw (unless I’m merely blocking out any mishaps due to the fact that they scarred me and I don’t want to recall them). 

5:00pm hit.

 It was time for me to go downstairs and change into clothes for my second job.  So, I grab all of my essentials—my gym bag, my purse, my water bottle, my lunchbox… (This is probably why the security guard, refers to me as a ‘Bag Lady’.)…and I head to the stairwell to trek down to the floor below, where there are rooms to change my clothes. 

As I descend the stairs, I feel the pocket on my hip, where my security badge should be.

It’s GONE.

It was now past 5:00, and everyone in my department had left for the day, but I was STUCK IN THE STAIRWELL!!!  I could not enter any doors without my badge, and I didn’t want to try to climb down 10 more flights of stairs, in heels, while holding all these bags, JUST so I could try to change clothes in MY CAR before heading to work.  This would not do!!!


So, I called the only person who I KNEW would still be in the building—Cory, our trainer in the fitness room.

One ring…

(feeling anxiety again)

Two rings…

(fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck!  I am going to be stuck!!!!!)

Three rings…



That was it.  I was going to be stuck there and it would just be the PINNACLE of my effing day!!!!

Then, he answered! 


“I need help!!” 

I’m sure I sounded like a complete psycho as I quickly spat the words into my phone, and I felt like a total jerk, interrupting his training session with other clients.

But, I was no longer trapped.  The door opened, and I rushed through it, spouting thanks.  And….at the same time….I looked into my purse.

Guess what was there!

(You know those moments where you just want to CONK yourself on the head and yell ‘DOY!’? 

Yah…those completely and utterly ditzy and idiotic moments…..)

My expression of gratitude quickly turned to words of apologies, mixed with slight embarrassment.

The night, along with my idiot-mixed-with-klutziness tendencies, did not end there.


Fast forward to 8:30pm, and I am at a cash register with a line of people doing their Christmas shopping.  The phone has been ringing off the hook the entire evening.  I DO have a phone at my station, so I have been answering it in between (and some during) helping customers. 

At this time, I answered a call that went something like this:

Me: Good evening! This is ****(place I work)***; How may I help you?

(The next customer walks up and is in front of me in line at this point.)

Man-Customer on phone: (Irate voice) Yah, I just called a bit ago and I was transferred to one department, then placed on hold, then the phone was answered and I was immediately put back on hold.  Now, I want you to NOT put me on hold and ask over your walkie if you have a (fill in blank w/ item here).  DO NOT put me on hold!

Me: Of course! I am so sorry about that.  Let me ask someone if we have that for you!

I set receiver down and immediately began my request over the walkie.  After this, I picked up the receiver to let the customer know that I WAS ON THE BALL!! I was going to get this figured out for him, and he no longer had to be upset!!! 

**Receiver cord comes loose and detaches from phone.  Phone line is dead.**

At this moment, I stand there…awestruck.  And the people standing in front of me, the customers who witnessed the entire thing, have the same expression on their face.  The only words that could describe this:


I’m sure the man on the phone was BEYOND pissed off, but at least the people in front of me were nice and empathetic towards my situation.  They smiled, and I’m sure that if they felt it was appropriate, they would have patted me on the head with sympathy.

“It’ll be okay…it’ll be okay…don’t be upset, little ditzy girl…” I imagined they were saying inside their heads.

(Move ahead another hour.)

I am now the only cashier in the front of the store.  Luckily, we are not as busy as we were, but I still have a steady flow of customers. 

That’s when my credit card/pen-pad device started moving sluggishly while processing.  I figured out it was because, again, my phone was having issues.  But this time, it was the OTHER cord that had come loose.  I pushed it in tighter.

Problem solved………………or was it?

Next customer—my scanning gun began adding charges to the items that weren’t there!! 


My scan-gun was haunted.  I was sure of it! It HAD TO BE what was going on!!!!! I soon saw that the phone cord had become completely unplugged, so I jammed it back into the phone harder, and it slid all the way in.

THANK GOODNESS!! That must’ve fixed it…right?

No.  Haunted scan-gun.  A little demon in that red scanning light that was adding and changing charges on every UPC I scanned. 

It was time to call the manager.  And, it wasn’t just ANY manager last night.  It was Steven–the manager who is in charge of the other managers/leads. 


I moved to another station and began helping the line of people that had formed, while Steven began to battle with my possessed scanner/phone/computer.

The first station I moved to had no cash in the drawer, so I had to move yet again…which merely caused more time to go by, but at least it took me a little further away from the SCANNER PHANTOM!!!

While continuing to ring people up, I watched Steven out of the corner of my eye as he tore things apart, messed with the phone, and basically began what I considered, “The Exorcism of the Scanner”.

Something strange followed….something unexpected.

He began chuckling…and the chuckling turned to laughter.  At this point, I think, “Oh NO!! That is the laughter that happens when someone is frustrated!! That thing will never be fixed!  He can’t find the issue, and he is laughing out of aggravation!…or maybe the ghost that was haunting the scan-gun IS NOW TAUNTING HIM!! IS THAT THE GHOST LAUGHING???????  FUUUUUCK!!!”

The last customer walked away, and my laughing boss walked over to me.  This was it.  I was about to get completely slimed with that ghost goo that I only thought existed in “Ghostbusters”!   All of the items would begin flying off the shelves AT ANY MINUTE!!!!

I brace myself.

“Leah, you plugged the phone cord into the HANGING WALL JACK on the phone.  It’s fine now.”

**Dumbfounded look appeared on my face….again.**

It was not laughter of frustration, nor was it laughter from being haunted….  It was the kind of laughter that says, “This girl…did she really…? Yes…yes, she did….wow.”

Welcome to my life………this week.