Sometimes I can't contain my laughter.

Today was a tough day at work for a few reasons, but here are two funny highlights.

1. This morning I tried to unlock my office door with my car remote.

2. Someone who comes to the mental health program where I work greeted me this morning. "Panthea! Good to see you!" I love it when I can understand what he's saying because most of the time it comes out as mumbles and word salad. Pleasantly surprised, I smiled and greeted him, putting a hand out for a fist bump. He looked at my fist with disdain and quipped, "I don't punch women, dumb ass!"

Here's another reason why I think this person is awesome. A few months ago, I overheard him calling another person at program an idiot.

"John*, who are you calling an idiot?" I asked him.
"Him!" He pointed out a man who didn't seem to notice.
"He's not an idiot," I sternly told him, putting my hands on my hips.
"He's an idiot," he quickly replied, nodding his head.
"That's not nice. Why are you calling him an idiot?"
He pointed at the man again. "He started it!"
My tactic clearly wasn't working. "John, I think you owe him an apology."
John turned directly to the man, looked him squarely in the eyes, and said evenly, "I'm sorry you're an idiot."

I stared at John for a beat, blinking my eyes, at a loss for words. If I opened my mouth to say anything I just knew I would burst out laughing. After a couple seconds, I just shook my head and walked away with a goofy smile on my face.

Awesome.

*not his real name

Thanks for telling me, Twitter.

A little background: I was born in D.C. and raised in northern Virginia, where my parents still live.

Wow. It took Twitter to inform me of the terrible storm in northern Virginia. Virginia is trending worldwide because the storm has caused major power and phone outages, taking Instagram offline and causing problems for other internet companies with servers in the area. People have died from fallen trees and 911 call centers are down. Two and a half million people are without power and temperatures are supposed to reach 99 degrees.

I had no idea, so once I saw this I called my dad's cell and house phone. Both gave me that fast version of the busy signal. They're down. I called my mom's cell phone and she told me she was getting ready for a party. Um... What?

Me: "You're going out? Just because the storm is over doesn't mean trees can't still fall. When the ground is wet and the trees are damaged by the wind..."
Mom: "Ohhh okay. So I von't take any small roads, just beeg roads."
Me: "Don't you think you should call them and see if the party's still on?"
Mom: "No. Don't you tink dey'd call if eet vuz canceled?"
Me: "Um... Not if their phones are out." (Or if their house has been crushed by a tree, for that matter.)
Mom: "Ohhh. Okay. I call."

She is determined to party.

In other related news, I read the following in an article regarding the outage of 911 call centers: "In Fairfax County, people with emergencies are being told to report them in person at fire and police stations."

I'm imagining a man running to his local fire station. As he gets to the door he leans forward to catch his breath and puts his hands on his knees, heaving and panting. "Th-Th-There...There's a fire! Started...th-th-thirty minutes ago, th-th-three m-miles back!"

Finally, please allow me to sound like an old fogey for a moment even though I'm 23. The way we receive information has shifted so drastically! It boggles my mind that I found out about this storm on Twitter because Virginia was trending in the world! Bizarre.

Nothing on Facebook is truly private.

This gem popped up on my news feed. This is why I stay friends with people from middle school on Facebook. The best part is, she'll probably never see this blog!

Let's chalk this one up to culture because I have no other explanation.

My mom called a short while ago. Here's how the conversation went down--or should I say downhill?

Mom: "You're home on a Friday night?"
Me: "Yes."

Mom: "Hehehe!"

Thanks, Ma. I'm adding that to the list of Shit My Mom Says.

Come to think of it, this list really should be expanded to include the following gem, posted on my mom's Facebook page by one of her relatives.

At least she said please and thank you.

Oh! Let's not forget the time another one of my mom's relatives told her that she saw a picture of me on Facebook wearing "see-through night clothes." 1. I'm an adult. 2. It was a bikini. 3. I was at the beach.

That is one reason why I reject about half of my relatives' friend requests on Facebook. The other reason is that despite your familiar last name, I've never heard your first name before in my life. In other words: who are you, how are we related, why haven't I heard of you before, and why have you heard of me?

Must pet Shelties.

This is Irby and clearly not the dog in Brooklyn.

A friend and I were in Park Slope, a nice neighborhood in Brooklyn, for a mutual friend's graduation party. Walking down the street, I saw a cute Shetland sheepdog (the same breed as Irby). So naturally, of course, I squealed and announced to no one in particular, "Sheltie!" I greeted the owner and asked if I could pet the dog. We made small talk and the owner asked to see a picture of Irby, which I showed her on my phone.

My friend Tatiana, meanwhile, had abandoned me and was several paces ahead.

When I caught up to her, she looked at me and shook her head. "You're not from here. This is Brooklyn! You could've gotten cut!" I snorted in response. Park Slope, broad daylight, cute Sheltie, young woman who seems friendly. I'll take my chances.

Later, I wanted to get a second opinion. I asked Chloe, Park Slope native and the friend who Tatiana and I were there to see. Here's how the conversation went on Facebook.

Me: "Random question. If you see a cute dog in your neighborhood do you say hi to the owner and ask to pet the dog?"

Chloe: "Not usually. If I went down the street and said hi to every cute dog I would never get where I was going." Clearly, she has exceedingly low standards for dogs but let's not judge her.

I explained to her why I asked and told her Tatiana's response. As a great aspiring social worker, Chloe attempted to normalize what I did.

Chloe: "If you didn't go up to the dog some 5-year-old would have later."

Thanks.

Let's play a little game.

Guess the context: "It's okay. That's why cars have bumpers!"

Shakespeare fail!

I just saw this written on Facebook: "To thy known self be true."

If you don't understand why that's funny, I'm sorry. I won't be able to help you. Actually, I can help. Stick with "Be yourself."

My roommate just texted me...from the other room.

It seems like everyone and their grandmother has unlimited text messaging these days. I don't. As a result, I don't send or respond to extraneous text messages. I have an example. Let's say you thank me in a text. That's very nice, so I respond with "You're welcome. :)" Don't respond with a smiley! You're welcome. :) does not require a reply! How about when people send paragraphs worth of text messages, one right after the other? If you have that much to say, don't you think you should call me? Text messages are a commodity!

Last Monday my friend Laura expressed how frustrated she was by my restricted texting. She offered to pay for me to get an upgraded text message plan! I thought this was a hilarious joke, but then I realized she was serious. Before taking her up on her generous offer, however, I needed to find out the catch. "Does this mean I have to respond to every single one of your texts?" I asked her. She confirmed my suspicion so I had to decline.


As the end of each billing period draws near, I check my text usage and remaining allotment. Imagine my surprise later that day when--just one week before my new billing cycle--I learned I had hundreds of unused texts! I immediately texted Laura.

Panthea: I have 500 texts to use before next Monday so fire away with the texts.
Laura (in separate messages): Yayyyyyy! Haha that
Laura: Makes
Laura: My
Laura: Day!!
Laura: :) he he he

On Friday I updated her on my messaging status.

Panthea: Hurry! I have 200 texts left until Sunday!
Laura: O sweet tell me about every detail of ur day so far

So I did. She loved it.

This is how rumors get started.

I love my internship at Agency XYZ, which provides clinical mental health services to people living with severe and persistent mental illnesses.

Today, a sweet female member of the program pulled me aside and told me she'd been feeling dizzy and faint earlier in the day. I expressed concern and asked her to inform her primary care physician, whom she has an appointment with this upcoming Monday. "It's probably nothing serious, but tell your doctor just in case," I explained.

"Aww, you don't have to be worried about me," she reassured me, patting my arm. "You're like a mother hen. You'll make a good mother." This woman has melted my heart a few times, and this was one of them.

Suddenly, I heard another female member's voice shoot out from behind me. "Panthea, you're pregnant?"

I spun around on my heel, snorting out a laugh. "No!"

"Oh, good. Your education is important."

Sound advice. Thank you.

I'm not supposed to say I hate cats.

My roommate, Haley, has a very vocal, very needy cat. In fact, I would even go so far as to say this cat should probably consider seeking professional help for her codependent tendencies. This cat has an annoying, pathetic, raspy, forlorn meow. Something bad happened to this cat in a past life and she's still torn up about it. Anyway, when she gets into one of her meowing kicks, I sometimes meow back, as obnoxiously as I am able.

"Mmmrrrrwwwwooowww...mreowww-ow-ow-owww." The cat taunts.

"Mrrrrrrrrrrrrwwwooowwwwwwwwwwwwww!" I retort passionately, daring her to out-meow me.

We were playing this game just now, as I was tagging pictures on Facebook from Haley's and my recent cruise. As I became engrossed in the meticulous process of tagging, I stopped responding to the cat's cries. She must have gotten bored too, because she soon fell silent. Suddenly, the silence was broken with a particularly piercing meow.

From the other bedroom came an angry accusation. "Was that you or her?!" Haley was apparently over this little meowing game I had going with her cat.

"It was her! I swear!" I pleaded in defense.

"No, it's not! That was human!"

"It wasn't me! I haven't meowed for, like, a whole minute!"

I really shouldn't be meowing in the first place. We humans speak. If you ask a toddler, "What sound does a cat make?" the response will be "meow." If you ask a toddler what sound a human makes, I don't know what the answer would be, but it definitely wouldn't be "meow."

My meowing days are over.