Robot Bank

I feel like I have certain situations that happen to me more than any other person I know. For example, the other day I ran to the bank to make a deposit. One would assume this a simple task. So did I, believe me, so did I...

I've never been to this bank before, but I expected it to be like most banks. Tellers greeting you with their sad smiles, that ONE guy holding a bucket full of change, a smelly but very tan dude with sweat stains on the back of his cut-off tee, and the mother trying to control her wild children and then threatening them with "NO wii time tonight!!" Ahhh, the joys of banks.

When I entered the bank something seemed off. I felt like Dorothy walking from black & white into the world of color. Except my world of color was a world where no tellers were to be seen. Odd, I thought. Where have all the tellers gone?? Hmmm, whatever, I'll fill out my deposit slip and worry about that little problem later.

About one minute later...frick, where are the tellers?? How am I supposed to make a deposit? I stood in the room looking awkward as awkward could be. I see a couple offices, a few "stations" with tv screens and telephones, and a roped off path that led to it. I walked around looking for a teller with my deposit slip in hand and a confused look glued to my face, when finally I decided to ask the guy that was in one of the "stations," "Hey, I'm trying to make a deposit. Where do I do that?"

He smiled and answered politely: "Right here. It's like a drive-up window, but inside. It's weird, but this bank is close to my house..." He shrugged.

"Are you kidding me?" I said, and walked to my little cubby of a "station." I then proceeded to tap on the tv screen thinking it was a touch screen...nothing happened. "I don't know what I'm doing," I said, still tapping on the NON-touch screen tv.

The polite guy walked me through it, "Put the money in the container and push the button, then someone will show up. I know it's weird, believe me. I feel like I'm banking in the future."

"This is crazy. I'm never coming to this bank again," I said. And with that I made my deposit talking to the guy in the tv screen who works in the basement. I seriously just walked into the bank and had no human contact with a teller. Unbelievable. Also, these poor tellers are working in a basement...ummmm, sucks for them.

Honestly, they might as well have robots working there. What's the point? I walk into a bank expecting to interact with another person, and I talk to a man in a tv. I know that's what the drive-up is for, and if my car window rolled down believe me, I'd be all over that.

But I have to walk in and do my business inside. It's the way of the world for me and my Pontiac Grand Am. So as you can see, this kind of awkward banking experience happens to me a lot. Seriously, I don't think Julia Roberts has ever had to go through something like this.

Bates Motel

I went to wedding this weekend. It was a nice wedding. Beautiful bride and wonderful music. Very enjoyable. The bridesmaids looked clad in their "Little Bo Peep" dresses - their words...not mine. But they did kind of look like Blue Sheepherders.

With every wedding there are speeches. I've given one as a maid-of-honor at my bff Andrea's wedding last August. I kept it short but meaningful. I didn't put in a bunch of "inside jokes" or embarrassing stories. I followed "THE RULES."

Unfortunately, at this wedding the maid-of-honor speech ran 10 minutes too long - I'm not exaggerating. This speech was literally 10 minutes long. I died a slow death that night, and almost died (seriously) later that night. I'll get to that later. Anway, the maid-of-honor had way too much to drink, so she rambled on and on and on AND ON about this sandwich - or what she liked to call - "SAMwich." The sandwich wasn't a critical part of the story. She should've stopped after her first story. Yes, she told more than one.

After the first story I couldn't even look at the head table. I was so embarrassed and uncomfortable. The entire reception hall slowly went into this awkward silence wishing that she would finally wrap up her SAMwich and call it a day. After about five more minutes of a story that was going nowhere, she finally finished her speech. Like on cue, everyone let out a sigh of relief. Thank god that was over.

Before I get to the part where I seriously thought I was going to die, let me tell you about the dinner rolls, because dinner rolls are very important in any meal. Well, every person at the reception received a basket of dinner rolls except our table! I was starving. Andrea and Jeremy weren't starving as much as I was because they ate at BWW during our 3 hour lapse between the wedding and reception. I wanted to save myself for the meal. Bad idea. While everyone else enjoyed their dinner rolls, we all sat drooling over our empty plates. Finally, a server stopped by our table and we informed her that we needed dinner rolls.

We all got served our salad, then our meal, then our rolls. But we got extra rolls. And HOT rolls right out of the oven. It's safe to say that we got the best dinner rolls in the entire state of Wisconsin. They were tasty!!!! And we were all able to have two! How wonderful.

Okay, now to the part where my life almost ended. So, I stayed at a motel because I wasn't sure if I would be able to drive home after the dance. I played it safe and booked a room across the road. When I checked in (before the reception) and pulled up to my room at The Royal Inn (nice name, right?) I got in and unpacked. The room smelled musty like an attic mixed with bad breath. Gross. So I sprayed my body spray all over the place in hope to mask the smell until my nose got used to it.

After the reception I pulled into The Royal Inn and made myself comfortable. The interior wasn't as bad as the exterior. The motel website even states: "Don't judge us by our exterior." That probably should have been my first sign as not to stay here, but I didn't want to spend over $100 a night, just to sleep. Well, I fell asleep and awoke around 2 or 3 am. I had an end room, and I heard two men talking outside. Actually, they were yelling at each other. For example:

"Take your mother-effing business somewhere else. I don't want to see your effing face again!"
"Nonononononono! I ain't doing nothing wrong."
Then there was some pushing (I'm guessing).
"I don't care. This is my place and you don't do business here. If you know what's good for you.."
blah blah blah, scary blah blah...

So I'm in bed, curled up in a tiny little ball with wide eyes thinking, "Ohmygosh, this is it. This is the end. One of the scary talking guys is gonna pull out a gun and shoot the other one, but miss and the bullet is gonna come through the wall and kill me. They won't find me until after check-out, and my dead body is going to be all over the news!"

I was freaking out. I thought about calling 911, but if I could hear them, then they could probably hear me, right? And I definitely didn't want to be a witness to anything. So I waited out their 5 minute "conversation" about drugs or pimping, or whatever, and fell back asleep. When I woke up, I was alive and well, but I got the hell out of there, and will never return again.

I'm happy to be alive.

Does Mario Tennis Count?

Today was the first day of my Tennis class. We didn't do anything except listen to the coach talk about grading, equipment, and what we'll be doing in our future classes.

I have this class with my roommate, luckily.

The coach proceeded to ask the class if any of us have played tennis before. I swear to God, everyone raised their hands except Slams the Door and me. Talk about embarrassing. It's not like we haven't played tennis before...we have. We just didn't raise our hands because it's not like we're hardcore tennis enthusiasts. We've dabbled in the sport.

So as we sunk beneath the abundance of hands held high, Slams the Door and I exchanged a look. A look that was noticed by the coach. Who then proceeded to single us out saying, "Don't worry ladies, I'll be pairing everyone up by skill level."

Well, thank you for making us the center of attention!

If I was a brave person and didn't care if I sounded like an idiot I would've said, "I have a killer backhand as Donkey Kong in Mario Tennis on N64. And Wii, don't even get me started. My Mii will slam tennis balls down your throat! I'll go John McEnroe crazy on you!!"

But I'm not that kind of person. So I didn't say that. I would love to live in a world where it would be acceptable for me to sound-off and not be judged for doing so. I would also like to live in a world where cut-off tees are acceptable forms of everyday attire, but I'm digressing.

Oh well. I guess I'll just have to surprise everyone with my tubular (I'm bringing it back) hand-eye coordination I've been perfecting since I was young with NES and Sega. Watch out my tennis colleagues - Slams the Door and I are going to rule the court.