I don't think I'll be able to figure them out. I'm not even sure why they gave them to me.  They're too big and I have one of my arms in a sling so it's nearly impossible for me to use them.  I look like a hopping idiot who keeps falling over whenever I try to use them.

I haven't given up, but I think I might have to because I'm only hurting myself more every time I fall over.

I'm home now and I feel like someone who got hit by a bus... which is exactly what happened to me, so I guess it's normal to be feeling like this.  A while ago, I wrote a blog about the killer buses here in Downtown LA.  I find this very ironic because a bus almost killed me on Friday.

I was merrily driving back from school and I started getting a little worried about the out of service bus on my right.  It kept getting too close to me so I decided to slow down a bit and leave room for it to get in front of me if that was what it was trying to do.  I avoided getting next to it and this went on for a block or two until it reached the right lane must turn right sign. 

Instead of switching lanes in front of me (which it could've easily done because i left plenty of room), it decided to slam on it's brakes and swerve straight into me.  I got hit on my passenger side (luckily no one was there), and I was pushed into the next lane where I immediately was hit by a pickup truck.  I don't actually remember getting hit my the truck, but I do remember looking over and thinking "oh shit, I just got hit by a bus and now I'm gonna get hit by a truck".

I remember kind of waking up for a second in a lot of pain while I was getting wheeled into the ambulance on the stretcher.  I slightly turned my head (which was not easy to do with a brace around my neck so I had to turn my whole upper body) and saw a dog looking up and barking at something.  I looked up and saw a cat leap across one building to another.  It looked like it was flying.  I thought I might've been hallucinating, but I heard one of the paramedics say "that cat looked like it was flying" (I've now made it a goal to find that paramedic to confirm my story because Indy is convinced I was hallucinating).

The next thing I know, I wake up in the hospital and Indy is by my side.  How did he get there?  Apparently he wanted to know if I wanted food since he knew I was on my way home.  He called a few times and one of the paramedics picked up while they were putting me in the ambulance and told Indy what had happened.  He immediately got in his car and sped on over to the hospital.  He got pulled over and told the officer that he was speeding because I had gotten in an accident.  The officer let him go with a warning and Indy came to my side (Indiana Jones gear and all).

At first I didn't realize I had been in an accident, but I quickly remembered when I tried to move my arm and it felt like I was getting stabbed.  A piece of glass had been stuck in my left arm and I now had 20 stitches to close up the gash (I'm glad I'm right handed).  It had also been trapped so I was having a really hard time moving it (especially since my arm was in a sling).  My pain went away and I started laughing when I saw Indy in his Indiana Jones gear.  He had called in sick when he found out what had happened but didn't have enough time to change so he was stuck in his work clothes.

After drinking a lot of apple juice, I got up to use the restroom and realized that my left leg was not cooperating because it had been trapped when the truck hit me.  Of course, everything was spinning and blurry and I had a major head ache because I had a mind concussion (i hit my head on something).  If you read my last blog, I apologize for not making much sense.  The moment they put that thing in my IV I started going a little kooky (and I apparently became very amused by horrible tasting jello) and using an iPhone became incredibly difficult.

On Friday night, Indy ended up spending the night with me at the hospital because he fell asleep holding me and I begged the nurse to let him stay because I didn't want to wake him up and because having someone good to look at during the night would make me feel better (unfortunately they didn't let him stay on Saturday and Sunday night).

Now I'm at home and I am so glad because hospital food is disgusting.  I saw some pictures of my car and it's a mess.  It has giant dents on both sides and it looks like it's going to be impossible to fix (especially since the left side of my engine is squished in).  Luckily, because of my insurance (and because the city is going to give me some money because the bus caused it all) I'm getting a brand new car.  I'm not exactly sure of all the details, but I was informed that my car was not fixable and that I was getting a new car.  That's all I needed to know. 

Indy and my best friend are taking turns watching me because I still haven't dominated using crutches and I've fallen over a few times.  The room is no longer spinning and I am thrilled because I don't feel like I just got off the tea cup ride at Disneyland anymore.  I'm glad I'm in one piece and I'm a quick healer so I expect to be back to normal in no time. 

I leave you with one last thought:

BEWARE OF THE KILLER BUSES IN DOWNTOWN LA!!!

I was eating with Indy and he asked me something that he had apparently been wondering about:  Is my name really Tina or is it a nickname for Christina or something?  Believe it or not, my real name is Tina.  It’s not a nickname for Christina.  And as far as I know, I’ve never heard of another  person who’s name is Tina (and just so you know, Tina Fey’s real name is Elizabeth Stamatina Fey so she doesn’t count).

I remember my first day of preschool when the teacher asked me my name and I said it was Tina and she kept getting mad because she thought I wasn’t using my real name.  The same thing happened on my first day of kindergarten and high school.  It still happens when I have to sign things.  “You have to use your real name when you sign for this.  You can’t use your nickname.”  When are people going to learn that my mother was still drugged out from the pain meds she had for labor when she named me?  No one could talk her out of naming me Tina even though she had been passionate about naming me Christina the whole time she was pregnant with me.  It wasn’t until I was ten that she finally admitted she had no recollection about when she decided to name me Tina.  Thanks mom, my name is a product of a delusional moment.

Once I explained all this to Indy, I asked him why this had crossed his mind at such a random moment.  It was because we had just watched the Rock of Love 2 reunion and when he saw Inna, he started wondering if Tina was just a nickname that I used on a regular basis.

After he left, I started remembering my family and how the nickname they had given me slowly evolved throughout the years.  It all stated with “Tina Babe”.  My parents started calling me that from the moment they brought me home, and everyone else called me that too.  Then, as I started to grow, everyone started noticing something.  My beach blonde hair was not getting darker like my siblings’ hair had, and I wasn’t as big as I should’ve been for my age.  Just so you get an idea of how small I was when I was little, I’m currently only 4 feet and 9 inches (very tall right).

On my fourth birthday (I remember that day very clearly because it was the first time in my short life that I had felt completely humiliated), my crazy uncle got drunk and couldn’t remember my name.  What did he keep calling me that day?  Tinker Bell.  He had said it, the thing that everyone thought but didn’t have the guts to say it in case my parents got offended.  The moment he said it for the first time, the room went quiet.  I remember seeing everyone with their mouths open and their eyes practically popping out of their heads.  Was it because they were shocked that he was calling me over like a little dog, “come here Tinker Bell”, or was it because they were jealous that they weren’t able to call me that first.  Knowing my family, they were jealous.

I stood there with the Barbie I had just unwrapped and looked at my mom because I was confused.  The whole room looked at her too.  They were waiting for her approval or denial of the nickname.  I was hoping my mom would get mad because I wasn’t too fond of Tinker Bell and I didn’t want to be associated with a little pixie fairy who was infatuated with Peter Pan (that guy is ugly as fuck).  After a moment of complete awkward silence, my mother bust into laughter and said, “oh my God, she really does look like Tinker Bell”.  She had approved.

From then on, everyone started calling me Tinker Bell (especially after my mother thought it would be cute if she dressed me up as Tinker Bell).  Everyone, that is, except my siblings.  They thought it was stupid and refused to call me that.  It wasn’t until I was five that they adopted the name.  I went to see my oldest brother in his room and found him with a bag with white powder inside.  He tried to hide it the moment I opened the door.  When I asked what it was and why he was trying to hide it, his friend said “Tink, it’s fairy dust”.  My brother started laughing, but the joke was on him.  When they left, I found the “fairy dust” and sprinkled it all over his room so he could have good luck on his finals.  After that, my siblings called me Tinker Bell every chance they could so they could laugh their asses off.

As I got older, they started getting very cruel and made me do everything.  I had to do all of my chores plus everyone else’s.  They bossed me around every chance they could.  I think my sister was watching Cinderella one day and though “hey, if I had a bell, I could ring for Tina whenever I needed her to do something”.  And ring she did.  She even started yelling out “Tinker Bella!!!” (a combination of Tinker Bell and Cinderella) every time I didn’t run to her needs (If you’ve ever watched Cinderella then you’re probably familiar with that horrible, annoying, shouting way her sisters called for her).  My siblings thought it was genius and immediately started doing the same.  “Tinker Bella!!!”  The stupidest name I’ve ever heard, but it still had an effect on me.  Luckily, my sibling were the only one’s that called me that.

I woke up this morning and realized that four Tuesdays ago I dropped off my parents at the air port, and I haven't heard from them since.  They didn't even want me to go in with them and wave them goodbye at the window as the plane took off.  Well, we're not allowed to do that anymore, but it would've been nice if they had wanted me to wait with them for a little while since they got to the airport six hours before their flight actually left (we could've at least had coffee together).  Instead, they told me to just drop them off on the sidewalk and started walking inside before I even had the chance to get out of the car and say goodbye to them.  They told me that they were going to call me as soon as they landed to tell me how their flight went.  They didn't call.

Since their move to New York was so spontaneous (so spontaneous that they didn't bother telling me until I found them packing about five days before they were leaving), they didn't have all their new home information.  So all I have is their cell phone numbers, which they never answer (they only answer their business cell phones and they've never given me the number for them).  I'd email them, but I realized I have no idea what their emails are.  I don't have their home phone number or address so I can't call or send them a letter.  I've tried contacting my siblings but they aren't answering.  I love when my family forgets I exist.  It makes me feel very loved.

One thing that really bothers me a lot is when people smell.  Some people just don't seem to shower enough or even shower at all.  In my opinion, it's disgusting.  If you have the means to shower, then shower.  Not just once a week, but once a day or once every other day if you really can't (but realistically, it only takes a few minutes to shower so there really isn't an excuse).  And if you have time and a few buck, go get something that will make you smell nice.  It makes all the difference in the world.

Today, I was walking to my car when I got off school and I encountered a strange odor while I was waiting for the light to change at the corner.  I turned to my left. A fellow classmate of mine was standing next to me and she smelled like apples.  The mysterious odor wasn't coming from her.  I turned to my right.  One of my teachers was standing there and she smelled like some perfume my friend used to wear.  Nope, she wasn't were the funny smell was coming from either.  There was only one place left to look.  I very slyly dropped a book behind me and turned so I could see where the horrible odor was coming from.  Right as I turned, I got a giant whiff of it.  Ugh. Disgusting. 

So who was the smelly person?  A man in a business suit who smelled like he hadn't showered in a month and didn't know what deodorant was used for or even had the slightest clue that it existed.  Ugh.  It was horrible.  He had on a $1600 Armani suit and $500 Dolce & Gabbana loafers and he smelled worse than a dirty diaper.  There was no excuse for him to smell that bad.  For a guy who was that well dressed, he smelled a hell of a lot worse than the homeless guy I had just given $5 to.  I wonder how bad he would've smelled if it was actually hot today like it was last week.  Ugh.  I get chills just thinking about it.

I got home from work last night and found Indy outside my door in his full Indiana Jones gear.  He had was sitting with his back against the wall and he had his hat pulled over his eyes.  I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw him like that because he looked exactly like the real Indiana Jones when he would nap.  As I got closer, I noticed his hat was moving.  Once I saw that, I literally ran down the rest of the hall to find out what it was.  I reached Indy (who was laughing) and started poking at him until he showed me what he was hiding.
What was in his hat?

A bunny.  A tiny baby bunny that fit in the his hand.  He told me that he had found it when he got off work and walked through the garden of the Disney Hotel after eating something in Downtown Disney.  He put it in his hat and carried it around the garden but couldn’t find any other bunnies.  On the way home, he stopped by a friend’s house who was a studying to be a vet and asked him about the bunny.  He said it was male cottontail rabbit that was about two and a half weeks old.

It was the cutest thing I had ever seen.  We took the baby bunny inside sat with it on the floor.  I don’t have a camera right now or else I would’ve taken a picture of him when he sat because he sat in the cutest way ever.  Just to give you an idea, this is exactly what he looked like (only he wasn’t a cartoon).  And for those of you that don’t know who that is (shame on you), it is Thumper from the Disney movie Bambi. 
I decided to call him Thumper.  It seemed appropriate because he was a tiny gray bunny with a white fluffy tail and a white chest that was found hopping around Disney.
We watched Thumper for a while as he hopped around and explored (he seemed pretty active for a two and a half year old if you ask me).  We put him in a giant empty cardboard box (it was way too big for such a little guy) with one of my old shirts, some lettuce, and a little bowl of water.  We were going to have to go shopping for some bunny supplies in the morning because nothing was open that late.  I went to bed and Indy offered to stay over and keep an eye on Thumper during the night just in case he needed something (I think it might’ve just been an excuse for him not to leave).

When I woke up this morning, Thumper was happily hopping around and Indy had coffee ready for me.  After I made breakfast, Indy decided he should probably go upstairs to his apartment so he could get ready and go bunny supply shopping before he had to work.  When Indy opened the door, Thumper followed him out.  I went into the hallway to receive him since Indy had already picked him up, and then I saw something that made my heart sink. 

The Psycho Lady from two door down was also in the hallway and she had an evil smirk on her face.  I knew exactly what she was going to do.  She quickly pulled out her phone, took a picture of Thumper, and got on the phone with management before I had a chance to hide him.  “There’s a strict No Pets Allowed Policy here in the building and you can’t keep that thing here.”  I wanted to slap her.

Indy went up to her, grabbed her phone, and hung it up.  She was mad and started yelling at him.  Indy asked her what her big problem was with a baby bunny rabbit and why she was being such a bitch about it.  Indy had called her a bitch.  Ah, my hero. 

They argued for a few minutes and I stood there watching with Thumper in my hands.  At one point I wanted to laugh because Indy was still in his Indiana Jones gear from the night before and I could hear the theme song playing in my head.  They kept arguing and then someone from management came.  The guy told me that as cute as the bunny was, I couldn’t keep Thumper.  I was told to hand over Thumper because he was going to keep him at the front desk while I called someone to pick him up an take him to a new home.

The man took Thumper away and I was left standing in the hallway with Indy and the Psycho Lady.  After arguing with her for a few more minutes and calling the Psycho Lady a demented menopausal psycho bitch who had nothing better to do but ruin everyone else’s happiness, Indy took me inside and helped me prepare a little box for Thumper.  I called a friend and told her to pick up Thumper and give him to her little sister as a birthday present from me.

We went down to the lobby and waited with Thumper until my friend came.  Five minutes before she arrived, the Psycho Lady came down to make sure I was giving Thumper away.  To make matters worse, she came up to Thumper and did something atrocious.  She pet him and smiled evilly.  “It’s soft.  Reminds me of a coat I have.”  What an evil bitch.  Indy got up again and started arguing with her and made me laugh with some of the things he said to her.

My friend came, and I said good-bye to Thumper.  I can’t believe they made me give Thumper away… But I am glad Indy called the Psycho Lady a bitch.

You know what I'm talking about.  And don't pretend you've never done it before because you know you have so don't try to deny it.

You get a catchy tune stuck in my head and then all of a sudden you feel yourself shampooing your hair in the rhythm of the music.  For some, loud singing (good or bad) might follows.  It even may carry on to the after shower drying off and readying process.

Today, I had a really bad case of shower dancing.  The first thing I did when I woke up this morning was shower.  I was so exhausted from school and work that I knew a shower would be the only thing that would shock me into the reality that I had to go to school and work again.  The moment I got in the shower, Gloria Estefan's voice popped into my head.  Damn it, the song that never gets out of my head once it gets stuck.

"Come on, shake your body baby, do the conga.  I know you can't control yourself any longer."

And so it started.  At first it was only my head moving to the beat as I rubbed bubbly soap all over me.  The I started shampooing the my hair to the rhythm.  By the time it was time for conditioning, I was humming and doing a little dance.  But it didn't just stop there.  I got out of the shower, wrapped myself in a towel and was now full on dancing.  Half way through blow drying my hair I started to sing.  It started off kind of low, but then it just kept getting louder and louder.

"Come on, shake your body baby, do the conga.  I know you can't control yourself any longer.  Feel the rhythm of the music getting stronger.  Don't you fight it til' tried it, do that conga."

I turned off my blow dryer and heard laughing.  Where was it coming from?  Indy.

I had completely forgotten he had fallen asleep on my couch while we were watching TV last night.  And there he stood, in the doorway of my bathroom laughing.  I kicked him out of the bathroom but I could still hear him laughing in my room.  After I finished getting ready, I walked out of the bathroom and found Indy half on the bed, half on the floor, laughing so hard that he wasn't making any noise anymore while he laughed.  You know that laugh.

You should think about that.

I went to the store last night because I was in desperate need of much needed groceries (actually it was because I really wanted some Ben & Jerry’s chocolate fudge brownie ice cream and coffee heath bar crunch ice cream).  When I was putting everything in my car, I saw something astounding.

Something rubbed up against the back of my leg right as I put m precious ice cream in my trunk.  I quickly turned and saw a penguin.  It wasn’t a real penguin.  It was either a little kid or a little person in a penguin suit, penguin head and all.  First of all, my would he/she/it (you never know, it could be an alien or something in disguise) be in a something so warm and black (and in case you didn’t know, black attracts heat) on a boiling day like this.  It was at least 80* outside.  Second of all, was this person/possible-alien-trying to-be-in-disguise (or maybe it was an actual penguin disguised as a penguin because no one would ever suspect a penguin to disguise itself as a penguin) some kind of genius.  It was amazing.  Had he/she/it figure out the meaning of life?  

It made me want to get in a penguin suit and follow it and it wouldn’t matter where we went.  We could be jolly penguins together.  I watched it waddle away and finished putting the last of my groceries away.  I swear, I wasn’t going to follow it.  But then, right as I was reaching up so I could close my trunk (and at 4 feet 9 inches this sometimes requires a little jump) I heard it say, “Pen-guin.  Pen-guin.”  That was it.  The signal for me to follow it and figure out what it was.

I jumped up, closed the trunk, and flew into my car (I didn’t really fly but it felt like it).  Right as I was about to back up an old lady started to slowly pass behind me with her walker.  No!!! The penguin was going to get away.  As she moved in slow motion, a line of cars started to form behind her.  Not only was I going to have to wait for her to pass, but now I was going to have to wait for the giant line of cars with angry passengers to pass.   When I finally got the chance to back up and leave, the penguin was long gone.  I went up and down a few streets to see if I could find it, but I couldn’t.

If any of you see a someone/something that’s about 3 ft tall pass by in a penguin suit and says “Pen-guin, Pen-guin”, I urge you to stop whatever you are doing, tackle it down, and unmask it.  This is very important.  An alien or penguin invasion might be happening right under our noses.

I bought a Snapple Apple at school today, and I found an interesting fact under the cap.

Poor Indy.  He thought I was joking when I said I knew how to box.  Little did he know that I was trained to fight and that I had learned many different forms of self defense.

When I was in high school, I got followed home by a creep after a football game.  I was almost close to home when I noticed he had been following me for almost an hour.  It was at that exact moment that I realized I couldn't stop my car because I had no way of defending myself if he decided to some at me or something.  I was tiny.  How could a 4 foot 9 inch blonde who only weighed 95 pounds supposed to defend herself?  I couldn't.  Since I was running really low on gas (and because I knew that looking for my house keys was going to take way too long), I call my friend and drove to his house a few blocks away (I didn't want the creep to know where I lived) and honked all the way down his block just in case he didn't already have the garage door open.  I quickly turned in to his driveway (I got a flat tire and almost flipped my car from turning so quickly and suddenly and because I went over the curve), almost ran him over, and destroyed half of his father's fishing poles.  After I had snapped out of the shock of being punched in the face by the air bag, I came to the conclusion that I needed to learn how to defend myself. 

I then started to learn many different fighting techniques.  Some boxing from my friend, a bit of jujitsu from my boyfriend at the time, kick boxing from my crazy friend, and kung fu from my awesome Chinese neighbor, and bit of anything else people were willing to teach me.  So, here I am three years later still standing at 4 feet 9 inches tall and weighing 98 pounds (for some reason my boobs and bottom decided to get bigger).

I came home from school (thankfully only a three hour class on Fridays) and found Indy waiting by my door with a flower he had bravely stolen from the garden (I was actually very jealous when he told me where it was from because he had managed to do what I couldn’t).  We got inside and after I made some lunch I told him about being so frustrated last night that I wanted to challenge the psycho lady from two doors down to a boxing match.  He laughed and jokingly mocked me for thinking I could win a boxing match against a lady that was twice my size.  

Did he really think I couldn’t?  I mean, I love to eat.  I love to cook so I always end up eating a lot.  And when I’m not cooking, I’m still eating anyways because food is delicious.  When I’m watching a movie at home, I can go through a box of donuts, a bag of popcorn, two packs of gummy bears, a caramel apple, and still have room for a giant bowl of ice cream covered in fudge (I’m little, but I love to eat).  

And with an appetite like that, how did he think I manage to keep my 24 inch waist?  I go to the gym, but I can only stay there for a short time.  He knew that running to nowhere on a treadmill, riding a stationary bicycle, and lifting weights over an over again seemed kind of boring to me.  And believe me, there’s no better work out that knocking someone down that’s someone twice yours size.  It’s entertaining, and it’s fun to watch people’s reactions when they see what such a tiny person can do.

Because I was in the heat of the moment (but mostly because I wanted to see Indy with his shirt off), I challenged him to a boxing match.  He laughed and though I was kidding.  Then I explained to him that I actually didn’t want to box him because he was to hot to punch, and that we both had the day off and it would be therapeutic if he helped me workout with his shirt off.  He agreed, we got ready, then headed to a friend’s gym that had proper boxing equipment.

We got to the punching bags and then he held it in place while I swung at it (I kept picturing the punching bag as the psycho lady but I kept getting distracted by Indy’s muscles).  After seeing that I could actually throw some punches, Indy decided that he wanted to see what I could do in the ring.  We put on some boxing gloves and got in the ring.  He told me he wasn’t going to hit me because he couldn’t hit a girl but that he wanted to see if I could manage to get him since he was good at blocking punches.  Right before we started, he took off his shirt and I got completely thrown off.  I just stood there like an idiot staring at his six pack.  “Tina… Tina?”  Damn it, he was talking to me and I couldn’t focus because of his brawniness.  This was gonna throw me off.

He stood there ready to block punches.  Swing one.  He blocked it.  Then I started to stare at his muscles again.  “Tina… Tina?”  Damn it, why was I spacing out like that.  It had to be his hotness.  Swing two.  He blocked again.  I caught myself starting to stare and quickly snapped myself out of it.  Swing three.  Blocked again.  I once again started to space out, Indy noticed and said something that quickly snapped me out of it.  “What’s the matter Tina?  Am I distracting you?  When I saw you throwing punches at the bag I though you might actually be able to get me but I guess I was wrong.  You’re tiny, and I know how to block punches.  So you can’t get me.”  He raised an eyebrow, to show he was jokingly trying to provoke me.

I was officially snapped out of it.  I sung.  He blocked.  I swung again.  He blocked.  I swung two more times.  He blocked them both.  He really was good at blocking them.  I swung a few more times, he kept blocking.  And then, it happened.  I took a swing towards his stomach with my left arm and when he went to block it I took a swing at his head with my right.  Success!  I stood there and did a little dance while holding my arms over my head to celebrate my victory.  I had done what he said I couldn’t do.  Then I turned around and saw Indy sitting on the floor with his hand to his head.  Had I really hit him that hard?  Actually, I think I had.  Oops.

My friend came over and made sure he didn’t have a concussion or something and told him he was going to be fine.  I sat on the floor with him in silence.  I felt really bad about hitting him but I felt better when he reached over and half tackled me, half hugged me then kissed me.  We had been flirting for a few weeks and seeing each other every day for two weeks and I couldn’t believe it took a punch to the head for him to finally kiss me.  Until then he had only gave me a kiss on the cheek every time he made his exit.

We got back to our building and he went off to shower an said he’d come see me again in an hour so we could watch something.  When he came over, I couldn’t help but laugh at the red bump that was forming on his forehead.  He laughed too and then started acting like a baby and saying he was probably going to have brain damage after that.

He fell asleep while we were watching TV, and has taken over my couch.  I still feel bad, so I guess I better make something good for dinner.  I think I’ll let the quarter Italian part of me come out tonight and make some ravioli from scratch.  Yum.

It was my first day back from spring break and I had to spend six hours in a classroom with a teacher who wanted everything perfect.  It's the first day back.  What the hell did she expect.  Anyways, instead of coming home and resting after a long day of getting stabbed by pins and almost getting strangled by my measuring tape, I get to go to work.  I need rest damn it!  How am I supposed to serve steak with a great big fake smile on my face when a snobby person starts to give me attitude.  How? 

Two hours between school is not enough.  I should go down the hall and challenge the psycho lady to a boxing match to take out my frustration.  I should go right up to her door, knock on it, and when she opens it, I'll greet her by yelling "Ha-Ya!".  That ought to help.

They're a lot trickier than you'd think.

I got back from work and was half out of it, walked right up to the super clean automatic glass door, assumed it was already open because it didn't slide open... then BOOM.  I went straight into the door, fell back, landed on my cushiony toosh, and spilled my oh so precious Mocha Frappuccino with extra mocha. 
Come to think of it, this is the second time in two and a half weeks that I've ran into a door (at least I didn't get a black eye this time), and this is the second time this week my poor drink has tragically died.

Apparently, the door was getting fixed.

So remember:
The next time you're about to walk through an automatic glass door and you think it's already open, double check to make sure it's really open because you just might be mistaken.

Tomorrow, insanity begins.  Yes, it's back to my fast paced, if you slack off even a little you're gonna fail, quarter system college.  Ah, the chaos.  If any of you are familiar with the quarter system, then you're probably familiar with the insanity it's accompanied with.  We squeeze what everyone else does in five months into two and a half very stressful, chaotic months that make you want to drop out and become a bum.

So how have I enjoyed my last day of sanity so far?

I woke up early to have breakfast with Indy (he was in full Indiana Jones gear because he had to go to work so I couldn't stop giggling), when to the zoo with my crazy blonde friend just to see an Okapi (they're these half horse, half zebra looking things with only the stripes on their legs and a giraffe looking face), went to the beach to walk in the sand but I got too close and I fell into the water because a giant wave knocked me over (brr, the water was freezing),  slipped in the lobby of my building because I was still wet from almost drowning (I got weird looks from people in the lobby, big surprise), and now I'm waiting for my laundry to finish so I can go to the gym downstairs because I need to keep building up my strength since I'm going to have a lot things I have to carry for school (and because I saw the psycho lady from two doors down leave for the gym and I want to rub it her face that I'm in better shape than she is).

I took out some ice cream, my phone rang, and when I got back, it was melted.

How horrible

Need I Say More?

Last night, I went dancing with Indy (yes, I’m permanently going to call him that).  I couldn’t help but squeal (internally of course) when he told me we were going Salsa dancing.

Now let me tell you a little bit about me and Salsa dancing.  My mother is half Columbian, half Venezuelan, and my father is half British, half Italian.  As a result, I was born a cute (if I do say so myself), 4 foot 9 inch, blonde, dancing queen who‘s a natural in the kitchen.  I love dancing in general.  Salsa, Merengue, Tango, Mambo, Swing, The Waltz, The Fox Trot, The Jitter Bug (just to name a few).  You name it, I dance it.  But one of my favorite has to be Salsa dancing.  I love it, which is exactly why I was thrilled when Indy told me he was going to take me Salsa dancing.

I got to be honest, I didn’t think Indy would be any good at Salsa dancing.  He didn’t seem like the type that knew how to, but boy was I wrong.

I got ready last night and eagerly awaited his arrival.  I curled my hair so that I would have nice, long lasting waves, and wore a cute light blue (to match my eyes) Salsa dancing appropriate dress.  

I heard a knock on my door right as I finished getting ready.  I opened it and there was Indy standing in hot pants and a light blue button up shirt.  “We match,” I said, with a big smile on my face (boy was he looking hot).  “Ya, I thought I’d wear something to match your eyes.” (internal girly squeal)  He noticed my eyes.  Actually, I think he had said something earlier about wearing something to match my eyes, but that’s not the point.  The point is that he actually remembered the color of my eyes and was kind enough to mention it.

We got in his car and drove to the club.  The whole way there, I couldn’t help but notice that we had the same kind of sense of humor.  It was weird to me because I hadn’t found a guy who had my unique sense of humor.

We got to the club and immediately started dancing.  I was in shock.  Had I finally met a guy that could keep up with me on the dance floor?  I think I had.  He wasn’t the crappy kind of dancer  that though he could dance but really couldn’t.  Indy could dance, and dance we did.

We danced until three in the morning, and then we realized we were exhausted.  Luckily he was going to be able to sleep in because he had the day off, and so was I because the restaurant I work at only opens for dinner.  We got back to our building, said good bye, and I immediately knocked out on my bed.

So, what have I learned about Indy in the past 48 or so hours?

• He's hot (always a plus)
  
• He's going to be a pediatrician (he loves kids, which is adorable)
• He's hot (extremely hot)
  
• He's taking a year off because he needs time to relax (I did the same thing last year)
• He's hot (he's perfectly muscley)
  
• He's working at Disneyland and is currently stationed at the Indiana Jones Ride (he still looks hot in his uniform)
• He's hot (he has gray eyes)
  
• He just turned 21 (just a little over a year older than me)
• He's hot (his brown hair looks perfect)
  
• He has the same sense of humor as me (finally, a guy that can laugh as much as I do)
• He's hot (his smile is gorgeous)
  
• He's a gentleman (opens doors for me and everything)
• He's hot (his tan is not too light, not too dark, and definitely doesn't look fake)
  
• He's a coffeeholic like me (I don't care what people say, being a coffeeholic is not a problem)
• He's hot (drool)
• He can Salsa (I think I' might've met my match)
• He's hot (did I mention he was hot)

So what do I think about Indy?

I think he it might be alright if he stuck around for a while (hopefully a long time) ... (girly squeal)

Yesterday morning I woke up in desperate need of my giant Mocha Frappuccino with extra mocha. The perfect way to kick start my day off. When I got to the closest Starbucks, the line was ridiculously long. I figured I might as well stay in there because I didn't feel walking a few blocks to another one and wait in a line that might be even longer. After waiting in line for about fifteen minute (some people just take way too long to order), it was finally my turn to order. I ordered my giant delicious Mocha Frappuccino with extra mocha (Yum), and prepared myself for the long wait.

Fifteen long agonizing minutes passed, and then my name was finally called. I walked up to the counter and right as I was reaching for my drink, a lady snatched it. I was in shock and I asked her why the hell she had taken my order. She said it was what she had ordered and she had been waiting for five minutes so this must've been hers. I explained that it was my drink because my name was written on it and that I had been waiting for fifteen minutes and she had about another ten minutes left before she got her drink. She started yelling at me and started to walk towards the door (not even the funny looking Starbcuks guy behind the counter could get her to understand).

All of a sudden, a guy stood in front of her and told her to hand over the drink because it wasn't hers. At first I though he might've been trying to kidnap my drink too, but then I realized he was trying to get my drink back for me. So, who had come to my rescue? It was Indiana Jones (a.k.a Jason) who lived in my building (if you're confused then read my previous blog). After telling her to shut up an hand over the drink because she was crazy if she thought she was gonna steal my drink and not have to wait fifteen minutes like everyone else, she finally budged. The lady gave him the drink and sat down (she reminded me of a dog with it's tail between it's legs after it does something bad).

I was flabbergasted. When he came up to me and tried to give me back my drink, all I could do was stand there like and idiot with my mouth half open, half smiling. This was the first time I was actually getting a good look at him, and boy was he hot. I had never seen him before out of his Indiana Jones clothing. This time, he was wearing jeans and a tight white teeshirt that hugged his muscles very nicely. "Tina... Tina?" Huh? Oh shit, he was talking to me. I snapped out of it, received my drink, and smiled at him. Then, instead of saying thank you, the only thing that popped out of my stupid mouth was, "Aw, Indy". I felt like an idiot. I couldn't believe I had just said that.

Right before I started to walk away because I was completely embarrassed, he asked me if I had walked over. When I told him that I did, he asked if I needed company walking back since his order would be done any minute. I felt my eyes light up at the sound of this and I stood by him. I couldn't stop staring at my hero (yes, saving my coffee is considered and act of heroism to me). "You're quiet today... Tina... Tina?" Huh? Oh shit, he was talking to me again. What the hell was wrong with me. Had I really developed a little girl crush? You know, the kind that makes you want to squeal when you see him or when you realize he knows your name. Oh, dear god, I think I had. This was bad.

After he finally got his drink, he turned to me offered me his arm. "Come on Tina, lets get you home." I felt myself get an even bigger smile on my face, and then I held his arm.  We walked in silence for about the first minute and I kept noticing he was smiling and trying not to laugh.  Did I have chocolate on my face or something?  "Are you blushing?"  Was I really blushing?  Oh no, was I really blushing?  Now, I was.  "You're crazy.  I never blush."  Damn it, now I knew I was blushing.

About a block away from our building, he finally asked what I knew he had wanted to for the past fifteen minutes.  "Indy? Did you really forget my name that quick?  I told you yesterday my name was Jason."  By now, I was sure that I was as red as a tomato.  "You're always dressed like Indiana Jones... Big fan or something?"  Now I couldn't help but stare at his lovely arm muscles.  "No, I work at Disneyland.  I'm stationed at the Indiana Jones Ride right now."  I stopped walking for a minute and then I stared laughing.  I wasn't laughing at him.  I was laughing at myself for thinking he was so obsessed with Indiana Jones that he'd dress like him everyday.  I finally felt myself stop blushing. "You're laughing at me?  Hey, I saved your drink."  Damn it, I was blushing again.  What was wrong with me?  I explained to him that this was the first time I saw him without his his Indiana Jones attire and I thought he might've been some kind of obsessed with him or something.

As we passed by the front desk in the lobby of our building, I remembered something.  The two dozen red roses I had gotten the night before.  Could it really be him that sent them?  The possibility seemed bigger and bigger by the second.  I needed to find out because the curiosity was gonna kill me.  "Have you had breakfast yet?"  Damn it, why did I just blurt that out.  "No.  Why?  Are you gonna make me breakfast?"  Was I really gonna make him breakfast.  Well, he did save my coffee.  "You saved my coffee, Indy.  You hungry?"  He was (internal girly squeal).

When we got into my apartment I noticed he got a big smile on his when he saw the roses on my table.  "Nice roses.  Did your boyfriend give them to you?"  Why do guys always use that line to find out if you have had a boyfriend.  "No, I don't have a boyfriend.  But I think I might have a secret admirer in the building.  Well, at least that's what the guy at the front desk told me."  Now he was blushing.  Did that mean anything?  I think so.

While I made pancakes, I noticed that he was sitting quietly at the table and blushing with a funny looking smile on his face.  "Now, you're quiet.  What's wrong Indy?  Saving my coffee wore you out?"  He looked up and I saw his gorgeous smile.  "No.  I'm just wondering if you liked the roses."  Did I like the roses?  Who doesn't like roses?  But was this his way of admitting he had sent them?  "I love them... Why?  Are you the one that sent them?"  I stared at him for about a minute until he finally sighed and started talking.  "Yes."  (internal girly squeal)  He sounded like a little kid who had admitted breaking a window or something.

We had a nice breakfast, and then he got up and made his exit.  "I have to get ready for work.  I'll make sure to stop by afterwards to check up on you.  That was an awful scare you had at Starbucks.  See ya later Tina."  He gave me a kiss on my cheek and walked out the door.  I was once again flabbergasted.  That was hot.

Around eight, I got a knock on my door.  It was him.  We ordered pizza and watched TV.  Somehow (I'm really scratching my head on this one), we both fell asleep on the couch.  When I woke up this morning, he was gone and I though I had been dreaming.  A minute later I hear a knock on my door.  I opened it, and it was Indy with a giant Mocha Frappuccino with extra mocha.  My Hero!  We once again had breakfast and then he left for work.  Since it's my day off again, we're going dancing tonight.  I'm still flabbergasted.