While in Joanns the other day, I saw two teenage boys in the scrapbook aisle. It was almost like I had fallen into some alternate universe. Two male teenagers? In Joanns? In the scrapbook aisle no less? Take cover! The sky is falling!

One of the guys asked an employee for help in picking out items to make a very basic scrapbook. She politely asked them if they were making a gift or buying for someone else. One of the boys replied that he wanted to ask a girl out to prom and since she’s really into scrapbooking, he thought she’d like the gesture.

*swoon*

Suddenly, I was annoyed with every ex-boyfriend I ever had. Where was MY scrapbook? Why hadn’t any of them spent hours crafting the perfect way to ask me out? This made me think back to all the gifts I received, good and bad.

The Good:
Recorded a love song on my answering machine when I went on a family vacation, so that it was the first message I heard once I got home.
A print of one of my favorite paintings, which also happens to coincide with a line from one of my favorite movies.
My favorite lipgloss, which had been discontinued and was impossible to find in AZ. He had a relative in California ship it to him.
A group of farce news clippings that documented all the funny things that had happened in our short relationship.

The Bad:
A poem that didn’t make much sense, which rhymed “Sara” with “lovely hair-a.”
A wallet made of duct tape.
A “mix tape” with only one song on it.
Because I liked cows, an ex gave me anything that had cows on it. Including a 1997 calendar…in 1999.

Dan’s lucky that his first gift to me was an iPod and the next was a Tivo. That man knows the way to my heart.

I learned 3 very important rules when I was being taught how to drive.

#1. Always wear your seat belt. – Dad
#2. Pay attention to the other drivers. Chances are, they’re crazy. - Mom
#3. Hold your hands at 8 and 4, rather than at 10 and 2. This lessens the chance that you will break your forearms during a collision. – Uncle Brian

At least, I’m assuming that last one is from my Uncle Brian. I don’t remember who exactly told me that but it’s a pretty safe guess it was him. Who else would teach a 16-year-old how to survive a high speed chase and subsequent crash than her SWAT team uncle?

This little tidbit of information was shared with all of my high school friends, who were also at a very impressionable new-driver stage in their lives. I’m sure their parents were thrilled. It also significantly raised my cool factor with the cute older boys who were into cars. Thanks, Uncle Brian.

Anyway, as I was pulling into the parking lot on campus one day, I happened to find the only empty spot was next to a police car. Of course. I safely maneuvered my way into the spot with no problems. As I “exited my vehicle” (cop lingo) the officer casually mentioned that I should keep both hands safely on the wheel when driving. I am sure I gave him a confused look because before I could say anything, he made a motion as if holding a steering wheel and said “10 and 2.” I immediately replied that my uncle was on the force and had told me that holding the wheel at 8 and 4 was just as secure, however it would lessen the chances of arm injuries in a crash.

There was a moment of silence. I had a moment of panic when I wondered if that lesson was one Uncle Brian had merely told me as a joke. I began to sweat, wondering if “telling false driving safety rules” was a ticketable offense. I started of thinking what delectable dessert I was going to make Dan, in order to lessen the sting of seeing my outrageous traffic fine. Then I wondered what would happen if it was a huge sum of money and we couldn’t afford it. I can’t go to jail! I look awful in orange!

The cop tilted his head thoughtfully and said “makes sense.” Then he turned away from me again as if our entire exchange had merely been about the weather or last night’s repeat episode of SNL.

This didn’t stop me from bragging to my friends that I schooled a cop in traffic safety. That’s right, literal street cred.

After I finish a production, I suddenly feel as though I have oodles of free time. It doesn’t matter if my next job is scheduled to start in just a few days; I feel as though I have too much time on my hands. This typically leads to me browsing the interwebs, trying to find some sort of volunteer work I can do.

So far, I have learned that I am not cut out for the typical places that need volunteers.

Hospital – This is normally my first volunteer site to browse. Dan sweats a little when I mention to him the idea of feeding preemies or delivering flowers to patient rooms. The work itself would be okay. It’s the idea of me coming home every night, sobbing because some poor baby or child is sitting in a hospital. I get a little hysterical at the idea of blood too, so as long as none of the patients are bleeding or show signs of having bled at some point during their stay, I am fine. And the mental image of most medical procedures is enough to make me dizzy. Basically, as long as no one is sick or injured in the hospital, we’re good to go.

Library – I get really upset when people talk in libraries. Not just talk loudly, but talk at all. I view them as a personal sanctuary, that should be filled with dead silence and amazing books. When people talk, it ruins the safe haven experience for me. The librarians tend to get peeved if you yell at patrons for so much as saying “excuse me.”

Fire Department Administrator – The job description includes checking smoke alarms, handing out info to station visitors and visiting eldery residents to ensure their home is free from potential tripping or fire hazards. Can you imagine how sad that would be? “Get rid of this of rug or you could trip and die all alone in your house, without anyone knowing you were in here. Besides your cats of course.” Yeah, that seems like an uplifting way to spend an afternoon.

Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art – They frown upon volunteers not doing their jobs and wandering through the exhibits instead.

Cleaning bathrooms at local parks – …ick

At local high schools, teaching drug awareness – Trust me, they are already aware of drugs. They have either already tried them or labeled anyone who has a druggie loser. And while I can do a hysterical impression of a drugged out drop out, I doubt the administrators would find my tactics funny.

Hospice volunteer – You drive to homes of the elderly, which seems simple enough. You are supposed to spend time with them, playing cards, watching movies, etc., which seems fun enough. You are also supposed to check and make sure they are still alive. I don’t want to think of my reaction should I discover the alternative.

Pick up litter – You have to wear an ugly vest and in the guidelines, it says that helmets are highly encouraged. Apparently, some drivers think it’s funny to try and pelt the road workers with garbage. Anything that requires me to be properly armed from incoming flying garbage is a no.

Zoo/Aquarium – Apparently, “come in and just play with baby animals” is not an actual volunteer position. They want you to clean up after the animals, scrub out cage floors or sweep. I would be okay if the volunteer guidelines didn’t specify that you would work in any of the animal houses on the grounds. Me, in a reptile house? Pass.

After going through all those, I finally realize that I should volunteer at a theater. It will look good on a resume and doesn’t involve me seeing blood or other gross things. For the most part. However, most theaters want you to commit to at least 10-20 hours a week. Some want a 6 month commitment. They don’t seem to realize that I have about 20 free hours this week, 10 the next and then maybe a couple a month from that. I once had a woman tell me she couldn’t be bothered to train me if I wasn’t willing to dedicate myself to my passion. Look, lady. I don’t need to be trained in how to rip tickets in half or paint hallways. I need something to fill my free time between theater and film projects.

She suggested I volunteer at a hospital, like she did when she was younger. Apparently, they only have an hour long training session and you only need to sign up for 5 hours a week. I was puzzled and asked her why stapling programs together required more training than working with sick, injured and dying people.

Let’s just say that my future opportunities at her theater are now looking a little bleak.