I have a horrible sense of direction. I get lost ALL the time.

Like the time I was going to an audition at Powell Hall in St. Louis and found myself cruising the streets of East St. Louis.

Hey, families are complicated. Don't judge.

But the worst part is, it seems to be contagious.

Like the time Ann and I were meeting this guy outside of Kansas City and we took the same wrong turn four times (I still have no idea how that even happens?).

My parents have supplied me with all the special equipment to help me get around: an iPhone, GPS, city maps, AAA card.

The problem is I tend to get overconfident in my abilities to navigate my way around. In the last month I haven’t gotten lost once, not once. So, naturally I was starting to feel comfortable, a little too comfortable.

I went to the store yesterday and on my way home I came across some traffic. Being the impatient driver that I am, I thought to myself, “I’ll just take a short cut!” So I took the first right turn that approached.

And this is how every “And then I got lost...” story happens. Once one random turn happens, I compulsively make another and then another... until I am in the middle of no where. At this point my mind conjures up the chase scene from Jeepers Creepers (click here to scare yourself) and I spend half the time trying to find a familiar landmark and the other looking over my shoulder for creepy scarecrow vans.

Oh shiz

While driving around aimlessly, I always look at the gas gauge. And without fail, every time I get lost my gas is on a quarter of a tank. To a normal person, with a normal car, this would be totally fine. But my car, Ol’ Reliable, is not a normal car. It is a 1995 Jeep Wrangler with over 200,000 miles on it.

Sure, I love my car. I think it’s cool but it’s kind of like dating a bad-boy. They’re tough, they always look good, they’re a lot of fun but at the end of the night you’re left pulling their head out the toilet and trying to get vomit out of your favorite shirt.

Anyway besides my car leaving me stranded places (and a long list of other misbehavior), the gas gauge isn’t quite right. When the gauge reads a half a tank, there is really only a fourth of a tank of gas in my car.

Of course I tend to never check any of the gauges on my dashboard and that makes for a bad combination. One of these days I’m going to be lost, out of gas, on foot and things are going to get real stupid. Hopefully, I won’t get kidnapped by one of the locals and forced to become a sister- wife ...

Needless to say, it took me an extra 50 minutes to get home last night. Next time I’ll just wait out the traffic.

Peanut Butter Finger Update: (or Peanut Butter Terrorism Update)

I took the finger-scooped White Chocolate Wonderful back to Target yesterday. Mostly I just wanted someone else to be shocked and grossed out by it too. So I took it to the customer service guy and explained and showed him the peanut butter. I was surprised, and a little disappointed that he wasn’t even shocked. It appears this wasn’t the first time a finger scoop has been found. But I wasn’t satisfied by his calm and cool attitude and I just kept saying, “Someone scooped it out WITH THEIR FINGER.”  The guy just starting laughing at me and said, “Oh yeah, that’s disgusting.” But the good news is they did let me exchange it for a new jar. Yes, I did check it for finger scoops.