Well... I am a women driver...

I have awful luck with cars. No like... really. My first car was a yellow Ford Ranger. A tiny truck really, but I loved it. That truck had quite a few issues though: passenger window didn't work, horn was iffy, wipers got stuck, jump seats in the back that shouldn't count, and only got 12 miles to the gallon. So we traded it in for a yellow Hyundai Accent (I like yellow in cars) and within the first week of having that thing someone hit me in a parking lot and left fake information! I'm talking "Rainbow Sunshine" and her number only had 6 digits. Grr... Well then everything was fine. I could put up with a bit of surface damage. She still ran fine. And everyone called it the "Egg" cause... it was shaped like an egg and it was the color of yolk.

Well Christmas Eve of this last year there was a tire on the highway and the truck in front of me decides he's tall enough to drive right over it, after slamming on his brakes. Well that's awesome! While I'm focusing on not rear-ending this guy and slamming on my brakes too a tire comes out from under his car and hits mine! Now, I don't know how much you know about cars, but the Accent is a fairly low car. The tire hit the front of my car with a nice "thud" and within seconds we had past it. I'm not so much of a women driver that I didn't pull over; I pulled over, put on the hazards and, dressed in appropriate family dining/Christmas Eve attire, popped open the hood (which was already a few inches off the hinges mind you, already a bad sign) and took a look. I kept the car running so I could get a nice listen to the engine. 'Wump, wump, wump, wump' is the tune my engine was singing. Splendid. Thinking that I could potentially make the 10-15 minute drive left to my aunt's, rather than driving an hour and a half back to my house, I get back in the car. We get back on the highway (the we is me and my brother, incase you were curious) and I stay in the right hand lane. 'What's that smell?' my brother asks me. 'Well...' I start when my dash warns me that my engine is over heating and then smoke starts coming out of hood, 'that's the smell of death!' Eyes wide I pull over to the side of the road again, pull out the keys and pop open the hood again. I sat on the road in front of my car staring at the chunk of bumper missing. I laid down flat and peered under the car this time and solved the mystery of 'where did my bumper go?' It was in my radiator. That explains the overheating. Merry Christmas.

Which brings me to today. I backed into the stone edging thingy next to my driveway. It's only like maybe 5 inches high but it some how screwed up the axel on the back, passenger side tire. UGH! By the way, my driveway is shaped like an "S" with an extra curvy part at the bottom and it's super steep. Which begs the question, HOW did that happen!?

The answer: I'm a women.

Anyways, I need to order my books for my course and do some home work.

Five days until I get my tonsils pulled. Hope your day is better than mine!

- This women driver

Allow Me to Explain

The goal: be an English teacher in Europe. So far the pieces are setting out pretty nicely. I got into Cambridge (they're world wide didya' know? Yea, I'm going to the branch in Colorado.) I have all my friends and family in Europe excited for me to come back. But, until this June, I'm stuck here. In Texas.

I have 20 days until I leave for Colorado to get my CELTA: Certificate of English Language Teaching to Adults (bare with me guys, the introductions are always super dry). Until then I'm doing studies. Sounds pretty boring huh?

WELL YOU'RE WRONG.

Two months ago I got this super icky thingy at the back of my throat. I woke up and it went something like this:

I fumble out of bed after already waking up a few hours earlier in pain. Being experienced in the strep throat department, I pull out my fancy-shmancy cellular phone and click the flash light app, go to the mirror and shine that sucker at the back of my throat.

"Maaaaa!"

"What?" - Mum

"Come look at my throat!" She's a nurse and a super awesome mom.

"Ew. That looks awful. Here's the keys, you should go to the clinic." Sweet. Figured. So I go to the clinic, write 'sore throat' in the 'What's the reason for your visit today?' box, wait a couple hours and then I go in. Mr. Nurse is like 'lemme take your blood pressure and ask you a few questions. M'kay awesome, doc'll be in soon.' The doctor comes in and asks the same questions and then finally looks at my throat and literally jumped back. Yes. He really did. This was already a good start. Then he left.

"Hey Mike! There is this girl in room 3 with something really gross in her throat! Uuuh... yea." - my doctor

"Really? How bad?" - 'Mike'

"Like an 8 on a 10 point scale." - my doctor

"Oh! I wanna see." - 'Mike' This is how I figured out I was 'girl in room 3'.

Long story short: there ended up being 3 doctors and 2 nurses in that small little room and they forgot to give me the strep test until I reminded them, missed the vein for the blood test and just ended up giving me a shit ton of antibiotics because they couldn't classify what I had. Thus, I named it Zombie Throat Disease.

Well. The antibiotics made it go away. That was cool. Especially since that thing hurt! It was all black and white and pussy and gross. I have pictures. Anyways, over a week ago my throat started to hurt again. I gargled with salt water and stopped smoking and drinking as much and then yesterday I decided enough was enough! This time I was going to see an actual ENT doctor (ears nose and throat). Good doctor says, 'You should get those removed, they're the size of walnuts." That would explain the difficulty in breathing... Now I have a surgery scheduled for this Tuesday. Win! (Not.)

My tonsils are getting pulled. I'm nervous. I don't like hospitals and I know this has a lot to do with me playing Silent Hill as a kid.

That's all for tonight!

- This girl