- Yet another obsession: "You and I" - Lady Gaga. I hear it and I envision 10,000 fantasies. First and foremost? Performing the song on Glee. Yes, I'd be the country Christian chick (with a heavy southern accent -- don't worry, I'm practicing... it's way better than my British accent, promise) who envisions singing this song to either a) the student teacher or b) the sophomore in college who came back for Homecoming after two years. And guess who that fine ass man would be? Justin Timberlake. I know Ryan Murphy is going to EAT THAT SH*T UP. Come on Ryan.
- Panic attacks. Had one today. It went something like this: I've been going to the same gym, new location for about 15 days now. I usually do street parking so I just walk up a few stairs and don't have to mess with a parking garage, but sometimes I do have to give in and keep my mace handy. Today I parked on a different floor, and the elevator was taking awhile, so I was like, "Duh, it's a gym. Take the stairs!" After feeling the burn, I get up to what I thought was the lobby floor (that leads to the gym), fling open the door and walk in, only to find nothing. Straight across: "Roof access. DO NOT OPEN DOOR OR ALARM WILL SOUND." To my left: a door that won't open. Behind me: the door I came in -- that won't open. My heart starts racing and I just keep thinking how many steps I took to get up here and how nobody was going to hear me and I couldn't ring the alarm or else it would cause a huge scene and AH and MOM! And then I grab my phone. No service. Perfect. So I do what any normal 24-year-old would do. Cry for minute. Then I prayed. "Dear God. Help." And then I asked for help. "HELPPPPP!! PLEASE? SOMEBODY! HELP! PLEASE HELP ME!" I can only imagine how pathetic I sounded. I mean, I want to cry just thinking about truly pitiful it was. After shaking the door and begging for mercy, I stop and literally, just like a movie, slide down the door and fall to my bum. Until I get a "Hello?" And for a second I thought it was God. But really it was my Prince Charming coming to save me! Praise the Lord! It was 2.5 seconds away (minus an abductor and 19 years) from the Jaycee Dugard story.
He opened the door, I was fine and made it to Zumba on time. Not to mention he told me if that happens again to ring the alarm -- that's what they're for.