If black smoke is pouring from your car, something's probably wrong: The perks of being a car owner

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^^That's me banging my head against the keyboard.^^

 I just can't seem to catch a break with my car. Parking tickets (some legitimate, some not), multiple trips to the DMV (I practically live there now), frantic faxes back and forth between DC and Montana involving power-of-attorney documents, even getting my car towed (FYI, not my fault)...all this makes me wonder why I have a car here in the first place.

Let me share the latest in my saga of woe.

I was driving with some friends. After about 2 minutes, my British pal Felix piped up from the backseat (please envision this with an English accent), "Aftan, is that smoke coming from your air vents?"

After my minor heart attack, I reassured him that nah, it wasn't smoke, it was a trick of the light. Of course. My car canNOT be on fire.  I kept an eye on the vents, but didn't see anything suspicious. The temperature gauge read as normal.

Then we pulled over for some coffee. "Hmmm," I said, sniffing the air. "Does anyone else smell...smoke?"

My other friend got out and made a quick inspection. "Yep," she said, "there's definitely smoke coming from the under-carriage, looks like it's concentrated near the passenger-side door." I peered over the steering wheel and saw small dark plumes wafting lazily from the hood.

My reaction:

Oh of COURSE, I thought. This just WOULD happen, because nothing with this car is ever straightforward or normal.

I sighed and pointed the car back toward home, driving nervously the whole while. I don't know much about cars, and something about smoke coming from the under-carriage makes me think the whole thing must be about to blow up.

I took my poor little beast to an autoshop the next day. They diagnosed a medium-sized, but serious, repair: apparently the rubber boot around the brake clamp had split and spewed hot oil everywhere. The smoke was the oil burning off as I drove. Not a big deal. However, in fixing this they also noticed that my brake discs were about to fail (not the brake pumps, but the discs that the pumps clamped onto...or something). If these had failed while I'd been driving, I "would have been in big trouble...it would have been bad," as the mechanic said.

So they made the repairs, and I also asked about replacing my radio, which despite four years of life support had finally died. They directed me to Best Buy for the that, which apparently does free installations once you buy the radio. Who knew?...so the people at Best Buy replaced my radio, but in the process discovered that all FOUR of my speakers had died, too.

No wonder the sound system wasn't working. Another bill later, I have a fully-functional stereo.

So the next time you see a Subaru rolling down the street, all the windows down, most likely blasting country music -- that's me, in a WORKING and SAFE (for now) car with a WORKING sound system. Hoo rah.

No, truly, despite my complaints, having a car is awesome, cuz it lets you go out of town for apple-picking and other fall excursions. But more on those fun things later.

Pro tips 2.0

This may become an on-going series....

1. It's okay to admit when you're swamped. Young professionals often want to prove that we will do anything to get the work done, or we take on a bajillion and one projects to demonstrate our hyper-involvement and please don't fire us because we're oh-so-valuable-and-whatever-you-do-don't-throw-us-back-into-the-scary-job-market! Instead of wearing yourself down and doing a half-ass job on twelve projects, do a kick-ass job on eight projects.

It's just as professional to say, "Thank you, but I have too much on my plate right now to give that project the full attention it deserves." Learning to hold things in balance is an Adult Skill.

2. Be careful not to be too formal in emails -- sometimes it just comes across as rudeness. Instead of saying "Hi Jane Doe, I need x. Best, Aftan," say things like "Hi Jane, I hope you had a great weekend. If you have some time, I could really use your help with x. I really appreciate it! Let me know if I can provide anything to make this easier. Best, Aftan."

Essentially, take some time to acknowledge that the other person is a human being. And that you're not a heartless ice queen. (For my male readers, ice king? Ice...princeling? Robot? I'll work on this.)

3. Make friends with your Finance & Accounting department. Otherwise your life will be hell.

4. If you have job applications out somewhere, then guess what? Your phone is your new best friend. (Smartphone users, I know this is already true...one reason why I prefer my Dumbphone...) Apologize for your phone's presence at social gatherings, like it's the awkward in-law whom no one wants to talk to. "Sorry guys, I just had to bring him..."

4a. If a number rings you that you don't recognize? Answer the crap out of it. It might be someone calling to request an interview.

4b. Missed the call and got a voicemail instead? Now I know this seems basic, but you should, ya know, call them back. Seriously, I know of someone who just lost an interview because she wouldn't return the job's call.

Really, people? In this economy?

Tips for being a Professional

Things I've learned this past week:

1. Do not spill on yourself, and please for the love of God do not spill on yourself right before your biggest meeting of the year.

2. No matter how much your allergies decide to kick up, do not rely on Benedryl during the work day. Two words: "Side-effects include..."

3. Even though you and your best friends jokingly write this way all the time, do not say things like "PERF" in your office emails.

4. Also, you should probably not sign your emails with the affectionate nickname that your friends use for you. Trust me, you don't want to be known around the office as "Tan."

5. Be aware if you tend to start singing when you listen to music. You don't want to be caught humming Linkin Park's "Burn It Down" while you're researching the Eurocrisis.

6. On that musical theme, you will attract stares if you carry your guitar with you to work. Same goes for when you respond with an emphatic fist-pump and happy dance to the simple "You glad it's Friday?"

Things that have happened in the interim – a 2-month recap

I went Home.

While normally I’m happy to babble endlessly about my home and my family, right now the thought of doing so just makes me homesick. I refer you to this post. Or this one.

I went to some weddings.  

Three, to be precise, three Saturdays in a row. Family, friend, friend. Notable moments: rafting down the river for my cousin’s ceremony, seven boats all lashed together while the vows were said over the water; bonding over mutual beer snobbery (and too many Jack-and-Coke’s) with my other cousin; discovering a high school bud is getting hitched next week and oh wouldn’t you like to attend?; seeing The Sis and another childhood best friend as bridesmaids.

I got really sick. Again.

Nasty head cold this time, layed me out for about a week. Unfortunately I had to fly back to DC before it had run its course, and all the subsequent pressure changes left me deaf in one ear for about two days. I actually warned my boss, “I’m not ignoring you, I just can’t hear anything you say.” It was freakin hilarious. In a "I think I might be dying" kind of way.

Btw, this dang cold is still hanging on. I’ve been sniffling for about three weeks now, and I had a relapse last week that turned into a sore throat. It also significantly impacted my ability to complain.

I discovered that my hometown has what’s dangerously close to a “nightlife.”

Since I’ve been gone, Brookie’s Cookies (yes you read that right) acquired a liquor license and a backyard patio, complete with a stage and a fire pit. Add in live music and drunk people with a tendency to stand too close to the flames, and you’ve got an instant hit.

We also have a new bar – one that could actually be considered DC-chic. No dirt floors or panties on the taps here! A DJ playing club music even attracted a small dancing crowd, and yes, I rocked my moves with the best of them.

Apparently I’ve got game?

This is news to me – I consider myself more of the ‘lovable dork’ variety, not the ‘sexy stranger’ you’d hit on in a bar. Case in point, I recently remarked that I must be a reincarnation of the awkward Liz Lemon from 30 Rock, and my friend listening quickly (too quickly?) agreed.

However, while at home I "picked up" a very handsome cowboy at a bar, and in the last week I’ve been 2/2 for exchanging numbers with other targets attractive gents. We’ll see where this goes, cuz I’m a bit suspicious of this new trend and don't quite know what to do with it, but I’ll keep you posted.

While we’re on the subject of my vanity…

I continue my search for a great DC hair stylist.  
I had a great stylist all through high school who understood my hair’s thickness and natural curl, and who always managed to cut flattering layers. However, factor in DC’s higher humidity and 4 extra inches of hair, and you get this: 

Yesterday a friend called me "Extra Hair."

My hairbrush recently snapped in two while I was brushing through my 80’s-style mess long tresses, so I’ve bumped this up on my list of priorities.*

Also, I should probably get signed up at a doctor’s office now that I have regular health insurance.

I continue to not know what to do with my life. 
I recently got a job, but that doesn’t mean that stressing about my future has ceased.  I still feel like I need a plan. Grad school? Foreign service? Waitress through Scotland? Move to LA? Choices, choices….

*I don’t know why you’d really care about this issue, because I hardly care. I just thought my hairbrush breaking was hilarious and I wanted to mention it.

Disturbing content HERE

Okay, yall. I'm gonna apologize for the disturbing content I'm about to post. Hhhhyeah. You'll be grossed out. These images are not for the meek.

My apartment has cockroaches.

To those of you who are rolling your eyes and muttering, Psh, well I've dealt with cockroaches for years, this is not blog-able content...Congratulations. You've dealt with cockroaches. You win an award. But this girl has NOT ever had to deal with them, and she's struggling a little with the adjustment.

I think Montana must be too cold or not humid enough or something, but honestly. I've never seen a cockroach before in my life. So when I was doing dishes and a brown, shiny, look-I-have-jointed-legs-and-an-exoskeleton bug-thing crawled up the disposal, I didn't react, ahem, well. Meaning, I yelped and dropped the plate back into the sink. Luckily, The Sis was with me at the time, so I pawned the bug-removal-situation off on her.

"Aw, it's just a lil Junebug!" she said, scooping him up in a bowl and depositing him in the grass outside.

I had my doubts about that, but I kept them to myself. Don't Junebugs have cute green and white stripes on them? And aren't they smaller? As in, NOT the size of my palm?

But hey, people every day choose to solve their problems by avoiding the very questions and details they should ask for--I joined that noble and classy crowd by choosing not to think too deeply whether that bug was an actual Junebug or not.

This incident faded from my mind. Until one night when I was sitting on my bed, minding my own business.

And something scuttled across the floor. Buried itself in a shadow by a stray sock. The sock wiggled.

I yelped again, and then froze. The "something" looked suspiciously similar to that "Junebug" from a few weeks ago...$%@! I thought. I'm the only one home. That means I have to deal with this.

Just to clarify. I can take care of myself -- I don't have a problem killings bugs or fixing faucets or grouting bath tile, or what have you. I DO have an issue with bugs that have exoskeletons. I dunno what it is, something about their shiny quality, the way they *crunch* when you kill them. They just seem so alien. So...evil. As if they are on a single-minded mission to destroy me.

When I was in middle school, my science class did an animal-dissection unit. We dissected giant worms, giant bullfrogs, aaaaand giant locusts from Africa. I had no problems with the former two -- I played with the frog lungs just like everyone else (you could actually make the lung inhale by forcing air into it with an eye dropper!) -- but I took one look at that locust and told my lab partner, "Josh, you're handling this one."

The "something" still sat camped out by my sock as all these pleasant childhood memories coursed through me. I pulled myself together. Armed with a cup and a plate, I trapped the invader and took him to the bathroom. "Let's see how you handle being flushed down the toilet," I told him smugly.

Turns out he handled it just fine. Since he refused to be flushed.

The backwash from the flush carried the little bastard back from the pipes, right back into the toilet bowl, where he proceeded to crawl calmly up the porcelain. Horrified, I pumped the flush handle repeatedly, but the water pressure wasn't recovered enough to do any more than sputter half-heartedly. The bug, whom I was certain was a cockroach at this point, had almost reached the rim. I grabbed at the toilet seat and slammed it down, hard, knocking the little cuss back into the water. Where he promptly crawled right back up the porcelain.

This process repeated itself until the water pressure recovered. It was a very lady-like situation, me cursing at the toilet while slamming the seat down over and over.

Eventually the water pressure recovered, and I sent that sucker down to the sewer to die. Done-zo. Gone. I was flushed with success (see what I did there?), but I had a new problem. Great, my apartment has cockroaches. 

I approached my landlords about the situation. Now, my landlords are WONDERFUL. But they wanted to be sure that these were cockroaches, and not "water bugs." Which apparently plague the area as well.

Allow me to illustrate.

THIS IS A WATER BUG

THIS IS A #%$^@*& COCKROACH

As you can see, class, the bug on the left has two pairs of legs and little horns. The exotic design on his back may be considered mildly interesting. The spawn on the right, however, has six legs and antennae. Notice a distinct LACK of horns. No design, other than a design to haunt my dreams forever.

The creatures I've killed have all had antennae. They are cockroaches.

Aaaaa I can't even look at these pictures anymore. Sorry to disturb you all with them. *Shudder* I can't believe I had to save them to my computer to write this post. I'm gonna go die now.

Editor's note: Aftan's apartment is regularly visited by The Orkin Man, aka The Bug Guy. A lapse in his visits allowed the spawn of cockroaches, but that has been remedied. Apartment = re-bug-proofed. Cockroaches = gone. (I hope...)

VIP: Very Important Post

Should I write-up an acceptable excuse for six weeks of silence on this blog? Nah. Too lazy. Why do I feel lazy right now? Oh I dunno, could have something to do with one of my first two-day weekends since frickin October.

Why do I have a two-day weekend? I’m not working 60+-hour weeks anymore.

Why do I have a reduced (aka normal) schedule now? Cuz, ya know, I GOT A JOB. A real Big Girl Job. A Job-Job, if you will. I think this is worthy of some underlines and color…

I GOT A JOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

After nine months at an unpaid internship and working nights and weekends, my internship finally coalesced into a real, paying position. Long story short, the Lil Boss decided to leave, and after a long (too long) interview process, I am now the Lil Boss! My official title is Associate Editor, which means I get to take my red pen and mark up manuscripts for a foreign policy journal.

What what? I get paid to be a Grammar Nazi? Cool. Whoa dude, comma OVERUSE…excuuuse me, that is not a real sentence…let’s move this word/sentence/paragraph over *here*…how about we try spelling this word correctly…

I am drunk on Red Pen Authority.

Speaking of authority…my signature means something now! I can manage a budget, call our publisher to check on manuscripts and deadlines and marketing, talk to other departments about Important Stuff, and fill my work life with other Marketable Skills! Knock me over with a feather. I am a young professional. BAM. I even have my own office. And an intern.

Big Boss: So, feel free to move into your new office at any time.

Me: Oh, okay. I’ll do that this week then.

Big Boss: Well, your intern starts day after tomorrow, and he’ll have your current desk, so…

Me/New Lil Boss: Gotcha. I’ll move right now!

Having a job also means:

- I can afford a gym membership.

- I can finally buy that painting I’ve been eyeing at Eastern Market for six months.

- Fresh flowers? What?

- I can finally afford some of the nice booze that I sell to my customers at the liquor store…yes, I’ve kept some of my hours at the liquor store. It’s just too fun to quit. More on that later though.

Look, my first paycheck! I will use it for something special...

...like fostering a newfound love of Irish whiskey.
(This was a combo gift to myself: first paycheck, 23rd
birthday, and 1-Year Anniversary of living in DC.)

Reading through the above list, some of you may be concerned about how I prioritize. Flowers and booze? Wow, this generation really doesn’t know what to do with money. Back in my day, [enter diatribe here]… Ahem, after a year of living literally paycheck-to-paycheck, you’re right. I have no idea what to do with money. But don’t worry, I’m a Grown-Up now. I’ll figure it out—for instance, I opened a retirement account the other week and talked to a specialist about investment options.

So, this blog will continue. Hopefully a little more consistently now that I have some time. And I plan to write quite a few more posts from the point of view of an overworked, underappreciated, frustrated, sleep-deprived, discouraged youngin’ tryin to make it in the big city.  Because, sadly, lots of us are still in that place.

Not to end on a sober note or anything. :P

How to see DC in 2 days

One of the things I love about DC is that there’s.so.much.to.do. Monuments! Memorials! Museums! Oh my! It’s definitely too much to cover in one trip. However, when a favorite aunt comes to town for only a few days, that’s when ya make it hap’n, cap’n.

DC in two days? BRING IT.

Having done a fair amount of traveling, I intimately understand the sadness of not being able to do all the things you’d like to do in a destination city. (London, I will return to you.) Thus, here are some quick tips to help you out:

Condense your city into a concise list of priorities.  Don’t feel badly about the things you leave out – it’s tourist season, Jefferson won’t even notice that you stood him up for Lincoln. He’ll be too busy fending off about a quadrillion 8^th grade tour groups.

It’s ok to fudge the numbers a little. You want to see the Smithsonian. Awesome. Me too. But the Smithsonian consists of no fewer than 19 museums and 9 different research centers, and each of those museums has multiple floors and multiple wings, with rotating exhibits and 3-D movies and fancy gift shops. Is it physically possible to see all this stuff? Erm, no. Soooo…pick one. Bam. You saw the Smithsonian. (I recommend the Air and Space Museum – it hits a lot of cool stuff you don’t necessarily get in school.)

Wentelteefjes: Belgian “French” toast.

Go with some city-savvy locals. (Ahem, I’m city-savvy now, my blog says so in the title!) Locals will show you how to navigate the metro system quickly and efficiently (escalators: stand on the right, walk on the left!), tell you what’s worth seeing and what’s not, and introduce you to cool little holes-in-the-wall that the guidebook didn’t mention (Belga Café – my favorite brunch spot!).

Never.stop.walking. If you do, you’re done. You’ll never get started again. Just ignore your aching limbs and bruised feet – pain is weakness leaving the body.

Refuel with mango margaritas. Okay fine, it’s ok to stop for alcohol.

Be spontaneous. I like to think of The Plan as more of The Suggestion. Sometimes adhering so strictly to The Plan actually just makes us miserable. So, if you get the sudden urge to walk barefoot through the grass at Arlington Cemetery, or dip your toes in the pool at the Sculpture Garden, or run naked around the Washington Monument, do it.

Okay, maybe don’t do that last one. Let someone else do that, and then you can gawk and get pictures as they get dragged away by police.

And finally, enjoy your exhaustion at the end of the day. You earned it. 

Do we look related, or what?