Why UPS is Dumb: The Sequel

It seems like every story I have starts and/or ends with me getting horribly horribly lost. This one is no exception. I finally decided to attempt the journey Downtown to pick up my mystery Amazon package (tee hee) from the UPS center. I left an hour early, and luckily didn't hit any serious traffic. I was making good time until I got off the freeway into the one-way wasteland that is Downtown Los Angeles. After turning around in a complete circle, and driving for a good mile or two without seeing my next turn, I was frustrated to tears. "It shouldn't be this difficult!" I screamed to myself more than once. Finally I decided, you know what, fuck it. I'll reimburse my friend for whatever she spent on the present and just do without. I got back on the 110 South and cried out, "Oh there it is!"-Me. So I got back off the freeway and found it no problem.

Don't be fooled. Satan lives here.

I was the first one at the UPS center when an older Asian gentleman in shockingly short, tight brown shorts came to assist me. He asked for my driver's license and chortled when he saw the picture. I was slightly offended, since I think I'm one of the few people who actually has a good ID photo. "High school?" he asked. "Oh, yeah." I replied. I realized that the reason he was laughing was that I was 15 when that picture was taken. I remember that day because I had just come from basketball practice, so my face was kind of red and shiny. But I was just so excited to be getting my license that the grin on my face was undeniable. I thought I hadn't changed much since then (besides putting on more than a couple pounds.) But what the UPS guy saw in front of him was a young, professional woman in a trench coat, not a fresh-faced, smiling teenager. (Though I only looked fresh-faced. I was pretty angsty and more stressed out at 15 than I've ever been since.) He saw someone who was impatiently tapping her pointy-heeled foot, slightly irritated at the inconvenience of being there, and anxious about getting across town to the office during rush hour traffic. Someone who, that very morning, had suddenly worried for the first time about getting crow's feet. He gave me my package (tee hee), and sent me on my way.

My present!

When I opened the package, I discovered it was a book called "My Listography." As you may have noticed I LOVE lists, and here was an entire book dedicated to listing my favorite foods, songs, vacations, people, etc. It was obviously meant for much younger list-enthusiasts, with suggestions like "Outlaw homework" "Banish brussel sprouts" "Make curfew 4AM." But this gift meant a lot to me, especially at this point in my life when I'm grasping at any reminder of childhood (I just added Season One of the Rugrats to my Netflix queue). So I'm excited to fill out the book and I might include some of the lists on Sporadic Sporkitudes if I'm feeling saucy. So thank you Jessica, the sender of the mystery Amazon package! I apologize for whining and making you feel guilty for just trying to do something nice for my birthday.

Also, I think I deserve high fives all around for making it from South Central to Downtown and all the way to Westwood before 8:30 in the morning on a Tuesday.