I'll See You on the Road to Hollywood (or at least to San Antonio)

For those of you who don't check MySpace, here is the latest:

Alright guys, I'm going to be the next American Idol. It's going to happen. I'm trying out August 11 in San Antonio, Texas. However, I am in a quandary. I have no idea what to sing. I sing everything. I sing in the shower, out of the shower, on the golf course, at the dentist, and everywhere else. So, I need help narrowing my song-list down. Also, as most of you know, I have little to no style whatsoever aside from gym shorts and a t-shirt (which apparently isn't "pop star-ish"...I don't see why not). SO, read the following and send in your votes!! (oh, and wish me luck...)

What song should I sing in front of the evil Simon Cowell so that he'll send me to Hollywood?

1) At Last by Etta James
2) Ridin' Dirty by Chamillionaire
3) It's in His Kiss by Aretha Franklin
4) My Bologna Has a First Name by Oscar Mayer (I can make this sound good, I promise)
5) Other (please specify)

What look should I go for to impress and yet be classy and elegant?

1) The "I just found my eye-liner" Avril Lavigne look
2) The "I'm so much cooler than you in my muted tones" Norah Jones look
3) The "My hair needs flight clearance" Dolly Parton look
4) The "I'm So angry I could rip my clothes (and I did)" Cortney Love look
5) Other (please specify)

Thanks for your help!!!!

Boys in Blue

I'm really a good driver.....I promise.

I have had the misfortune of having two close encounters with Law Enforcement Officials in the past three weeks. Unfortunately, since I have difficulty crying on command or pretending that I am in labor, I have gotten citations both times. I know this sounds terrible and those of you with children are shielding your young and writing a note to yourself to never allow them in my Death Machine, but I really am a good driver.

Since I am so experienced in geting pulled over, I have discovered the routine when Po make traffic stops. You have to make about 30 quick decisions within the space of a few minutes, and it can get a little crazy. Here are the steps to the everyday pull over:

1) I notice the lights in the rear-view mirror. DECISION! Should I pull over immediately, admitting guilt and defeat without a sliver of hesitaion? Should I nonchalantly edge over, letting the Po know that I am pretty sure he is after someone in front of me, and am eager to be a law-abiding citizen who couldn't possibly have done anything wrong (my most popular response)? Or, should I floor it and hope for a spot on next week's episode of COPS?

2) The policeman saunters up and asks the dreaded question: "Do you know why I pulled you over today ma'am?" I hate this question above all things in a pull over. Of course I know why you stopped me. If I hadn't caught four feet of air on the last hill, we probably wouldn't be having this conversation. It's like someone asking me, "Oh, wow. Did you know you have a pretty bad sunburn?" Yes, yes I know. DECISION! Should I answer, "I didn't know looking this good was a crime?" Or, "Yeah, for the 3 dead guys in the trunk?" Or, "Do YOU know why you pulled me over"

3) After telling you that you were going 70 in a 55, and had passed three 55 mph signs in the last mile (to which I replied, "Well, there should have been four"), he takes the long walk back to the "Cruiser" to decide whether or not to kill your Spirit by writing you a ticket, to give you a great story and arrest you because you had another ticket two weeks ago, or to make you the happiest Woman in the world and let you off with a warning. (I am pretty sure they have policies against making people happy while on duty). DECISION! Should I start pinching myself in the hopes of squeezing out a few precious tears? Should I burn rubber while he's back there (because I know my Death Machine could outrun his wimpy Cruiser any day of the week)? Or, should I stop cracking the Reno 911 jokes and let the Man do his Job?

Alas, I am no rebel and I took both citations with a smile. I even said, "Thank you." What kind of idiot says thank you after the cop has issued the ticket?? So, I have decided that am boycotting traffic citations (except the two that I have to pay). I have not sped in a whole six hours, and I am hoping to keep it that way, at least for another two weeks.

Braids

I spent the last week in San Francisco with my high school youth doing mission work for Homeless and Low Income Folk. I had never been to San Francisco before, and it is actually a great city. I don't think I was paying attention when it happened, but somehow I was placed in charge of six Youth, one Adult, Myself, AND a 15-passenger Van. I had to follow the other van through tunnels, parking garages, one-way streets, and poorly-restroomed gas stations, so it was a bit like Crazy Taxi, only REAL. Let me tell you my friends, when you have successfully piloted (and parked) a 17 foot-long Land Yacht blasting rap music through the narrow, hilly streets of San Francisco and managed to get away with injuring only three small children, you can do anything.


During one part of the trip, my team went on a type of scavenger hunt designed to briefly immerse us in a certain area of the city. Our area was Chinatown. It was phenomenal. We visited a fortune cookie "factory," and after eating about 763 cookies (I am going to find at least 328 new opportunities, and will be touched by around 76 strangers...I stopped reading the fortunes at number 521) we chased a small Chinese man for a couple of blocks, hoping for a story, some directions, or at least more cookies. In order to make the most of our cultural experience and really understand the Chinese presence in San Francisco, we ended the day sipping Frappuccinos at Starbucks. Sweet sweet caffiene.


We slept in a church while we were there, and there were approximately twenty five girls (some high schoolers, some junior highers, and not nearly enough Adults) sharing a single large room and two ridiculously tiny showers. There was hardly enough room to sleep let alone break dance, french braid, cartwheel, or other normal everyday things. Also, I am pretty sure that the girls with whom we shared the room had a Red Bull and five Speed tablets each every night before going to bed. Needless to say, it was a long week. I'm in for a week of rest before things start moving yet again. Hooray for soft beds that aren't air mattresses.

Hemos Comido por Los Camiones de la Basura

I haven't posted in a while, due mostly to the fact that I have been galavanting across Texas. I spent last week in Brownsville with my church. We were doing things from painting to sanding floors to battling the deadly plague of Africanized roaches that are running rampant and killing small children and racoons.

Somehow, it was found out that I speak a little Spanish (please note the emphasis on "little"). We're talking proficient like, "Where is the ice cream?" not proficient like "My name is Indigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die." Suddenly, I was being asked to hold on normal conversations with people in Spanish. I had to ask for things like forks, knives, dishrags, and carbeurators. Every time I walked into the kitchen at the place we were staying, the lady working there would sigh, put down her things, and shake her head in utter disgust. At one point, I had to tell someone that the place we were working at was closed. I am pretty sure I told him that we were being eaten by garbage trucks (or something to that effect). I talked to this man after he had seen me run screaming through the garden, flailing my arms in a manner that can only be compared to that little blond kid in Home Alone (I was being closely chased by a bee, or maybe an Africanized roach...I'm not sure which), so the man just smiled, nodded and said "Gracias," which I think means, "Sad, stupid girl."

So, needless to say, I have started working on my Spanish since I got home. No fancy lessons or "Teach Yourself Espanol!" tapes. No, I have started watching Spanish soap operas (Telenovelas), and WOW are they entertaining--even if you don't understand a word they are saying. I really have no idea what's going on in any of them, but some lady caught on fire and then there was some generic backstabbing, followed by a plethora of single-eyebrow raises. Folks, this is the stuff of classics.

I left Austin on Sunday for almost the last time and had to say good-bye to a number of my youth there. The parting was bittersweet (well, mostly bitter, not a lot of sweet), and I have discovered how much I will truly miss them. Between pirate names, wall-sits, R. Kelly, tonking, silly songs and more, they have been my life for the past few years...thanks guys. I will miss you.