Recently, both of our cars needed new tires. My Murano needed 2, and Dan's/my old Altima needed a full set because his brake problems were warping his tires. So, he set out to search craigslist for 700 hours for a set of rims and tires for his pimped out version of my former ride. When I say pimped out, I mean its got a new grill, a new sound system and a sweet zebra headliner. Awesome.
Anyghetto, he finally found a set and we drove out to East Egypt to get them from some guy. He made me come along in case the guy was a serial killer. I guess he figured he could use me as a bargaining chip for saving his own life. That and he needed my cargo area to fit them all. Turns out, the guy was perfectly nice and was selling them because they wouldn't fit his wife's car. So Dan said to me, "here, help me carry them to the car." I, with my huge muscles, thought it would be no problem. Wrong. Tires are heavy. And these tires sucked (Dan was buying the set for the rims - he's a schemer and had other arrangements for tires) and their warping didn't make it to easy to roll them down the sidewalk to the car.
It was then that I realized that my dream of busting tires for Discount would probably never be realized. Yes, folks, one of my dream jobs is to bust tires. I'm weird. For some reason I think it would be really awesome to be the only girl in the shop pulling tires off, plugging nail holes, using the power tools, and fitting tires on rims. I took auto shop for 2 years - I can balance a tire. But how quickly I forget that I always had someone else carry said tires to the spin balance machine. I told Dan about my dream and said that maybe I could just specialize in small tires. He said, "those were small tires." Hrmph. So I started thinking about my other crushed dreams for future jobs....
::cue the wavy screen and me gazing into the distance with my chin propped on my fist::
Once upon a time, I wanted to be a football plater. But alas, they still haven't started up the WNFL. That's tragic really. I suppose I could do roller derby, but I'm not what you'd call graceful on my feet. I'd win only by virtue of falling and having everyone else trip on me.
Then, I wanted to be a marine biologist. I thought marine biologists trained dolphins, true story. And then I went to Sea World and realized that Shamu is EFFING huge and scary. I don't want to talk about it anymore.
I had a friend who was a flight attendant. I thought that might have been cool as a single gal. Flying all over the country, staying in sweet hotels, having awesome hair, saying "buh-bye, see you next time!" to jerky passengers. Yeah, no. I'm terrified of planes. Not flying. Just the plane itself. In the event of an emergency, I'd opt to stay in the flaming aluminum tube of death rather than go down the slide and catch a glimpse of the monstrosity. The fact that I work under the landing path at Phoenix's airport is a joke in itself. I seriously time my walk into the building so that I don't have to be walking in with one overhead. I would not be a good flight attendant. At all.
::end dream sequence::
So alas, I am a tax analyst. It keeps me safely away from Shamu and planes, except for the whole parking lot thing. I know a whole lot about things no one cares to hear about at a dinner party.
I can't be the only one with a busted dream. Any weird jobs you always thought would be cool?