One time while I was driving home, I hit a deer going 50 mph. Me, no, the car, not the deer. Mostly, I just tapped him, and he rolled, stood up, stared at me, and we both went- at the SAME TIME- "Oh snap! That just happened."
And then he ran away, and possibly died.
My mom made me go to cosmetology school to learn something useful. Like, she had this idea that because I like to paint my own fingernails and fix my hair, I should do that to other people, for money.
I don't...like...people. Not enough to get that close to them, anyway.
So the first time, I went just to do nails. And I was bad at it. Because I had to touch people and talk to them. Any time I was scheduled to give a pedicure, I called in sick.
Then I got my license for that, and a year later or so, I went back to do hair, because I thought that might be less...touchy and feety.
And most of the girls in my class made fun of me because I was really slow and overly careful, and very quiet. One of them started calling me "Wall paper"...she meant wall flower, but wall paper is what stuck...um, no pun intended.
And I hated it, I hated it, I hated it!
But our instructors loved me because I could do finger waves (a style right out of the...um...50's? Maybe?) better than anyone else.
And then there was the time I let one of the girls shoot. Me. In. The. Face.
She pierced my nose, actually, but I was pretty sure I was dying, for about 20 minutes.
So, I got my license to cut/dye/perm hair, too. I didn't use either license, never worked in a salon (except for a few days and had zero clients).
My favorite job was working as a housekeeper at a hotel, scrubbing toilets. It paid just over $7 per hour, but I had never felt so useful in my life.
...except the day I had to help a drunk girl walk home, and she punched me in the face because somebody else called the cops when she saw us staggering down the street- the girl was staggering due to vodka, I was staggering because I was trying to hold her up. And the police showed up and took us both to the station. They thanked me for trying to help, the girl punched me, and I went home.
Another interesting thing about me is that I like the clicky sound of my typing, and I share way too much information.