Its not Road Rage, its being expressive

People think I'm a bad driver. Sure, maybe at times I agree and feel that maybe there's a reason why I failed my driving tests so many times as a teenager, but overall I'm not that bad. I have had some passengers disagree with me about some issues involving driving, so I laid basic ground rules for what not to mention about my driving to me:

A Few Rules to know when driving with me:
1. I never wear my seatbelt, but its recommended that you do.
2. Don't worry when you see me driving with my knee, I do it all the time
3. Blinkers are a thing of the past, its all about the blind spot...
4. I know that I'm riding the white line, be happy I'm not swerving like normal
5. Road Rage is the form of expression I am most comfortable with while driving


All of these "rules" are things that I, at one time or another had a difficult time coming to grips with. Number five, Road Rage, is my recent self defeat. I am very used to telling myself that I don't have a problem with riding the white line or swerving, I told myself that driving with my knee is safer than using my elbow, and that blinkers are a waste of time... and sure, maybe every once in a while there is the moment where I am cussing at the "bad" drivers around me and the thought crosses my mind "Amanda, this son of a bitch doesn't know that he's doing, go around him honking and flipping him off" these thoughts are rare and brief in my mind, I usually drive around the individual with out flipping them off or honking, and just shaking my head at their idiocy.

Yesterday I was driving to Yuba City from Chico. The drive is a long straight stretch south on Highway 99. The road is a notorious death trap where accidents happen all the time due to stupid people passing when there wasn't enough space and time to do so... I was driving down the road, just one car in a massive caravan line. Pretty soon through my rear view mirror I see a white car about 15 cars back passing other cars in the line. Its not like he was really getting that far ahead, it was a line of about 30 cars, and he wants to pass all of them? Within a couple of miles he'd passed all of the cars behind me and was now riding my ass waiting for the chance to pass. My instincts took over...

I was blinded by how pissed off I was that this asshole thinks that he was going to pass me and I wasn't going to say anything about it. I thought about flipping him off, or honking as he drove by, tailgateing him, all too cliche, none of those seemed to quench my thirst for what I wanted to do to this guy, I mean I REALLY was looking to convey a message. Just then he began to pass me. In one motion, without even thinking about it I began to drive with my knee, roll down my window, reach at my dashboard and pick up my staples "Easy" Button and hurl it at the passing car as hard as I could. I hit the car and felt instant gratification. The guy began to look around bewildered and startled. In this istant it dawned on me...

This is why I can't get approved for that concealed weapons permit

Am I Paranoid? or a Practical People Watcher?

While on one of my outings for work we were at Mervyns. Our objectives on these outings are to get the kiddo to respond appropriately to demands like "stop" "look" "come here" and "Stay with me". While these are being requested of the child I go about making notes and general observations of the child. There are other people on the case who do what I do and sometimes they come out to the outings as well. I'm new on this case so I really just stick to talking with the consultant on the case. The little girl doesn't like going shopping for clothes (which is what we were doing at Mervyns) so the consultant took it upon herself to come out to the session and see first hand the behaviors and antecedents present in the child.

We were shopping for clothes in the little girls section at Mervyns, which is next to the little boys sections, and general child like things. I was standing back from the group (ie the mother, the consultant, a six year old girl and a seven year old girl writing down some notes about the girl picking out clothes when an old man (approximately 65 years old with salt and pepper hair that peeks out from underneath his large brimmed fishing style, olive green hat and a full beard)appears. He is dressed like you would almost expect someone like him to be dressed like, a little mismatched with pants that weren't quite long enough to go all the way over his ankle, and you can almost make out the outline of a pack of cigarettes in the pocket of his denim jacket. He's carrying a small duffel bag that almost makes you think he's in the store stealing things, or maybe he's homeless and packing his possessions with him, only thing is, he's not dirty like a homeless man would be. He greets my party with a creepily "hello, ladies"... then he sort of nonchalantly glances around the department store becoming aware of his surroundings and stations himself right next to an exit door. He is transfixed and just staring at the two small little girls that I am with, his train of thought is only interrupted by his jumping with a sense of being startled by people going through the doors to leave and the alarm sounds that the security tags aren't removed from their belongings. This causes him to look around suspiciously as if he's waiting to be removed by security...

"Am I the only one here creeped out by this guy?" I think to myself. Nobody else in my group has even LOOKED at him let alone spoken a word to him, in fact, I'm not even sure if they addressed him the first time after he creepily said "hello ladies"...

My heart begins to race as I think of what I'm going to tell the police the guy looked like who snatched up the little kid. I wondered how many police lineups I would have to look at, then I thought almost as if it should have been instinctual "Ah, he must be on Megan's Law... I wouldn't have to look at pictures for much longer than just one afternoon". I'm disgusted that I feel relieved by that.

Different scenarios begin to run through my mind of him snatching the seven year old sister while the six year old is trying on clothes, or him taking the cute little red head girl without knowing that she's Autistic and then killing her and dumping her tiny body in an orchard when he realizes the communication barrier... or maybe keep her forever since she can't talk she wouldn't ever be able to tell anyone who she is or that she was kidnapped from Chico Mervyns... oh man, that wouldn't look too good if a kiddo got kidnapped while I was with them in session... I wondered how the trickle down effect of blame would be disbursed, then I begin to think....

"This is why I've been people-watching all these years! I've been in training to spot a potential kidnapper or pedophile!"
"That must be why nobody else in the group has mentioned this guy to me, they aren't as in tune with their people watching abilities as I am and probably haven't noticed the creep already halfway out the door and just looking for a kid to take and flee the country with, or sell on the black market of human trafficking."
Just then in my coldest most stand offish voice (which if you know me isn't the easiest thing for me to pull off seriously) I hear myself saying "Can I help you with something?" I'm staring at this guy expecting him to just turn and run out the door as if he knows that I know what he's really doing there and the cops are already on their way... then just like that....

My consultant says "oh he's with us, he's from the regional facility, this is John"

Everyone enjoyed a good laugh about my hyper paranoia... and the man laughed and said "I guess I should try to look a little more friendly" I responded with a censored version as to what I observed of his behavior and said, "just try not to look so suspicious"...

A Finer Culture

Now there are times where my mannerisms and my language make me feel less civilized and slightly more barbaric than my fellow American. A few weeks ago at one of my Mandatory Costco runs I realized that no matter what I do, I am pretty much more cultured and slightly more civilized than my average fellow American counterparts. I am capable of enjoying the finer things in life like a great aged bottle of wine, shots of fine Tequila, musical theater, or walking through nature and enjoying the sunshine... I thought though that everyone, to some degree, enjoyed these things as well....

While working (at Costco) on community outings my main objectives are to work with the kiddo on their communication and community safety. Also, I really try to incorporate the mother of the child in these tasks by getting her to ask the questions to the kid, or her giving the instructions to the kid regarding safety, (like stop, come here, look both ways, etc.) The best way to work on communication in costco with a non verbal child is typically through sign language and basic signs to answer questions, such as:

Do you like this?
Do you want more play?
Are you hungry?

She can answer these types of questions with a simple yes or no. We work on "no thank you" and "all done" as alternative communications for just shoving the object back at me, or trying to put it back herself. This really requires me to get creative to seek out objects in costco that would be of interest to a six year old Autistic kid. I came across a set of "bath time music toys" The kiddo really enjoyed this, looking in awe at the different toys. Her mother quickly picked up the prompt to engage the kid in the toy.

"Look honey, do you like this?" She said. The mother began to point to the different musical instruments and reading off the names of those instruments on the box of the toy set to the girl. "It has a drum, a guitar, a tambourine, and an xylophone." This wouldn't be funny if the mother would have pronounced xylophone correctly. She pronounced it "ex-la-phone". I didn't know that there were people out there (who know how to read) who didn't know that the letter "X" makes a "Z" like sound... nor did I realize that a mother of four could go her entire life without ever hearing the word xylophone, or its musical sounds.

I remember when I was a kid and went to music class once a week the xylophone was the cool instrument that the cool kids got to play at the Christmas program! I always got stuck playing the triangle. It made me feel inferior, like I was some old maid standing on a front porch somewhere calling everyone in from the field for dinner time. I coveted the Xylophone, its sweet, sweet chimes still echoing in my ears today...

Maybe that's why I felt like everyone should know how to pronounce "xylophone", or maybe its the fact that there aren't many words that start with the letter "X". My niece used to have an alphabetical toy, you push "A" and the machine says "apple" the picture icon under the letter. Well, "X" on every version of this toy I have seen has Xylophone as its picture icon. I can distinctly recall my niece proudly stating to me a few years ago that she knows how to spell "xylophone". And I felt like that was about at Par for a four year old to know. Now I hate to sound pessimistic about the future intelligence of my own family, but Anna isn't a prodigy child, in fact, she's managed to go through kindergarten without ever speaking a word to her teacher, that is below par.

So am I left to assume that this mother has about the average intelligence of a five year old?

Mandatory Costco

A part of my job is going to community outings with kids with Autism. This can always be an interesting experience. For the most part Costco is a staple in these outings. I don't know if you've ever been to Costco on three hour intervals weekly, but its draining. I mean the general experience of Costco alone can be overwhelming at times. The crowd, the lines, the parking lot, the enormous size of the place, its a lot to take in; throw in walking through the store with a white trash family you don't know and their kid with Autism, and you have a situation that is totally not enjoyable. I use to think that it was the most boring and mundane task; going grocery shopping at Costco with strangers. Then I met the girls last tutor...
With the last girl that was going on these outings with the family, they stuck primarily to Oroville. The white trash family (surprise, surprise) is from Oroville. Apparently every week they would go on the community outing to the Indian Casino Buffet for two hours and then to Wal Mart for the remaining hour. WE HAVE A WINNER... That is OFFICIALLY worse than having to deal with the overwhelming experience of Costco once a week. I couldn't imagine having to go to a buffet with a group of fat white trash people, watching them stuff their fat white trash faces while sitting next to other fat white trash people doing the same thing... then to retire to the white trash mecca of Wal Mart for an hour. Talk about needing to check for head lice when you're done...

Traveling with Woodstock

I know that traveling with a cat can be a challenge, some may say unnecessarily difficult to do. over the Christmas break I traveled a short distance to my parents house, about 40 miles away. I decided that it would be in my cats best interest to come with me since I was going to be gone for several days and I am already leaving him home alone all the time when I go over to Patrick's house so I didn't want him to be a lone when he didn't have to be.

Life is so much better for Woodstock at my parents house as oppose to where I live in the ghetto. Here in Chico, I don't let my cat go outside. I live in the ghetto and I worry about him and getting chased and possibly served as an entree by the Asians that live down the street. At my parents house, Woodstock gets to go outside, he gets to chase birds, has a plush backyard to play in all to himself, gets to lay in the sun, and when he is inside its by his own free will and he has a window bed for napping purposes. When I decided to take my cat with me, it was entirely to benefit HIS life and the time that he'd have over the next few days, not to benefit me at all, really its would be more convenient to not worry about him.

I get my things together, load my truck with things to go to my moms house, situate my cat's objects in the cab of the truck, like a soft place for him to sit, a litter box in case he needs to go to the bathroom within the 45 minute car ride... I have to keep the Christmas presents in the cab of the truck too because I don't want them to get crushed and destroyed in the bed of it. Luckily, my cat took care of that himself.

After about ten minutes in the car (or should I say right after I got onto the freeway leaving Chico) my cat begins to settle down and climbs over to my lap, I'm thinking that he's going to sit down and just sit on my lap for the entire car ride. I feel relieved that he's getting comfortable so quickly as I know that he is a difficult cat to travel with. To my surprise Woodstock was not laying down on my lap to be next to me, in fact, he was just looking out of my drivers side window while he took a shit on my leg. I mean, I put the litter box back there for a reason! I quickly took the next exit and threw the cat shit out of the car while trying not to be hit by cars speeding off the off-ramp and flying around the corner. I pull back off onto the freeway, my spirits might have been damaged, but they were not broken, yet.

Woodstock won't calm down, he keeps walking around trying to look out of the windows. In the process he managed to rip open about half of the presents. Four were ripped so badly that they just needed to be rewrapped all together. After ripping the gifts open, and shitting on my leg, he still wasn't done reining terror on the car ride. Next he decided to pee in the back of my car. No, not in the back where his litter box was, oh no, just in the back of my car right behind my seat.

Finally, he comes over and sits on my lap for the remainder of the trip, too bad there was only about ten minutes of drive time left... I spent the next day cleaning cat piss out of my upholstery and washing my seat covers to get out cat shit... Merry Christmas?

It'll be a long time before I travel with Woodstock unnecessarily again.

iPhone Love

For Christmas this year, my boyfriend Patrick bought me an iPhone, I must say that now that I am a user, I don't know how I ever managed to get by without one. It sounds totally lame, yes, I know, but thats alright. I accept the fact that I have now been absorbed into the iPhone culture. Like some sort of a weird freak who is in love with Apple. Just ask me, and I can help iPhone your life.

The things that it can do for me, pretty much everything short of an orgasm... Tells me how to dress for the weather, its a camera, ipod, and gives me instant email updates. The touch screen interface is so simple to use that even my 5 year old niece enjoys scrolling through the pictures. Check my stocks or kill time with a you tube video. Email a list I've collaborated under my notes section, log my hours for work, text my friend about my missing lighter, and then look up directions to that place I've never been. And the best part is that its all a touch away and in the palm of my hand. honestly anyone would benefit from an upgrade to an iPhone. Good things are in the Horizons for the iPhone world. Just think, cells phones as we know them are changing in a revolutionary manner; don't let yourself be left behind.

Where have all the gentleman gone?

Now, I know that I am not the perfect lady. I have a dirty mouth and an even dirtier mind; not very "lady-like" of me... but where have all the good guys gone? Do women not raise their sons to be good men anymore? If this is where manhood is heading our species is in trouble as we know it! What does it mean to be a "gentleman" anyways?

Last night I went out to the graduate with my best friend, my boyfriend and this guy that my friend is dating. The two of them were playing a game of pool and my boyfriend and I were just watching while we finished our beers and then we would proceed home. Well Tony, the guy that Chelsie was playing pool with wasn't playing so good. Cheslie was killing him in the game and I said to him "maybe you should let me take your next shot for you." "why" he asked. "Because it can't get much worse" I responded. I guess that this was some sort of capital offense against his manhood. I didn't say the comment out of mockery or to razz his game even. I said it in a jokingly manner and didn't mean anything deep by it. He began to pout automatically putting away his stick and getting out quarters in order to return the balls for his ID. Chelsie went over and talked to him for a minute and he wouldn't listen to her. As he was walking way I began to call after him to apologize for offending him and to tell him that I didn't mean anything by the comment. As he looks at me, he flips me off.

Like seriously? Is that how your mother raised you? To flip girls off while they're going to apologize? This guy is 27 too, you'd think that now he'd of learned that that's not the way that you treat women, or anyone for that matter. I feel like there are constant ways that guys diminish their gentleman capacity on a daily basis. To find a guy that IS a gentleman is a rarity and something worth fighting for (or flipping someone off for)!

I just laughed it off that he can be such an asshole. He proved to me that he isn't worth my time nor worth any of my respect. I'm not the one who has to put up with his personality, Chelsie is. I really appreciate my gentleman/non-asshole of a boyfriend.