Never have, never will. Part of the problem is that most of the time when I’m riding around, I’m living in my own head instead of paying attention to my surroundings. The rest of the problem is that I have no natural directional sense. If you ask some people to point east, they go “Hmm” for a second, then point. If you ask me, I’d think for a long time while slowly turning in circles. Then, I might point to the sky, or possibly fall down from all that spinning.

Hence, I get lost in K-Mart a lot.

Saturday night, my extreme lack of directional sense got me into a little trouble. A whole gang of us were hanging out in the late evening, and we ended up at this guy’s house. This guy happened to have a go-cart.

I went last. After a spin or two around the block, I realized I was a little lost. Okay, I was really lost. It was getting late and it was pitch black. I’d had a beer or three. I started to panic a little, as visions of me hours and hours later, driving down a secluded beach, crying, filled my head. I thought about how much I’d miss Shawn, and wondered what would happen to my car, and if they’d buy a new go-cart. As I was planning my own funeral, I drove through a big puddle and soaked my already-too-revealing skirt. Just as I was wondering how long it would be before the party sent out a humiliating search party, I heard my friends.

I could see the lights where they were. I could hear music, and Shawn’s big fat mouth. I became filled with a white light of hope.

Until I spent the next 15 minutes trying to find a road that would connect me with my friends. I could see them, hear them – but I couldn’t freaking GET to them.

I stopped the go-cart. I got up. And I walked over, leaving the thing running in the road.

You should have seen everyone’s faces when I arrived, saying, “Hey, someone should go get that thing.”

A few minutes later, Shawn took me aside and quietly said, “Dude. Why’d you leave the go-cart?”

I just told her that I was sick of it.

She laughed, all, “Only you.”

What really happened is between you, me, and the rest of the Internet. Our little secret.

Looking back on this weekend, I can’t believe how much I packed in.

5 p.m. Friday: Leave work, crank up music and sing at top of lungs whole way home, occasionally shouting, “Yay, weekend!”

6-7:30 p.m. Friday: Party for friend Jennifer, who is leaving her job and joining a nursing program.

7:30-8 p.m. Friday: Talked to sister on phone, when should have been getting ready for 8:30 dinner reservation. Called friend going to dinner with, told him I’d be late.

8:30 p.m. Friday: waiting on couch for ride to dinner. Am faster at getting ready than thought I was. Shawn doesn’t give me enough credit in that area.

8:45 p.m. Friday: Finally get picked up.

9-11 p.m. Friday: Eat steak. Drink yummy wine.

11 p.m. Friday – 3:30 a.m. Saturday: Pick up Shawn. Go dancing. Have big fun.

4-9 a.m. Saturday: Sleep.

9 a.m. Saturday: Remove shoes.

9-11 a.m. Saturday: Sleep more.

11 a.m. – 4 p.m. Saturday: Eat, lay around, talk to Shawn.

4-8 p.m. Saturday: Go to party in cool little area called Little Jamaica. Had never been there before. Low-key, but fun.

8-9 p.m. Saturday: Hang out at house where go-cart incident happened.

9 p.m. Saturday – 1 a.m. Sunday: Go see band. Drink shots. Watch juggling guy do some show with vodka bottles and lots of fire. Juggling guy gets vodka on me. Shawn then begins walking around with a margarita glass in her cleavage, offering sips from the straw sticking out. While it was tasty, I don’t even want to know what’d been poured into cup.

1-4 a.m. Sunday: Go dancing. More big fun.

Noon-2p.m. Sunday: Wake up. Run errands.

2 p.m. – 5 p.m. Sunday: Learn how to wind surf. Ideal day – sunny, just a little breeze. Windsurfing is not easy. Big board, big sail, little Jamie. Fall a lot. Finally master standing and lifting sail, but have no control. Decide to focus on steering next lesson.

5-8 p.m. Sunday: Eat turkey sandwich. Nap.

No one can ever say I never get anything done, that’s for sure. Now, it could be argued that I’m great at packing some a whole bunch of ultimately useless activities into a short period of time, and that isn’t exactly efficient.

To that I say, Shut Up, You. I’m having fun.