Last Friday, things were pretty slow at work. A coworker and I were just messing around on the internet, and ended up looking at a photo of a topless woman. (No, I am not telling you what we were looking at, but it was NOT porn. I know you don't believe me, but oh well.)
My coworker pointed at the photo and said, "Look at that. Do you think they airbrushed her nipples out?"
Without skipping a beat, I replied, "Oh no. My nipples look just like that in photos."
*I realize what I just said, only too late.*
*awkward silence*
And then we both burst out laughing.
Showing posts with label embarrassing myself. Show all posts
Showing posts with label embarrassing myself. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
One Day at a Time
Today is my ten year anniversary. For the last decade, I have maintained my sobriety 100%. My life has remained totally alcohol-free since the late 90s.
If you are doing the math, you are realizing that I did not drink on my 21st birthday. And that I quit drinking after my freshman year of college. I will add that I do not even sip champagne at New Year's or drink the wine at church.
A lot of people ask me how on earth I could have been an alcoholic at such a young age. The answer to this is that many alcoholics are born that way. In my family, it seems to be genetic: two grandparents, one parent, three siblings and several extended family members have all been afflicted with this disease. At least 2 have died in alcohol-related deaths. So whether I began drinking at age 16 or age 43, the results would have been the same: I have and will always have a problem controlling my drinking.
When I tell people that I really only drank for two years, they are even more confused. How did I realize I had a problem after only 2 years? After all, the majority of college freshmen are binge drinkers, especially on the weekends, and especially at large state universities. But by the time I was about 12, I had seen the effects of alcoholism on my family. Thanks to my mother's lectures and descriptions, I could rattle off the signs of an alcohol problem as easily as my multiplication tables.
By the time I was a senior in high school, alcohol was readily available to me, and like most young people, I was all about experimenting. Gradually, I began to see some bad signs...
Blackouts were my first sign that I may not have a normal and healthy relationship with alcohol. Yes, many novice alcohol drinkers have blackouts. But I was having them about once a month. And it wasn't like certain parts of the evening were hazy. I'm talking about the WHOLE NIGHT. Once, I woke up in my dorm room, dressed in party clothes, with a trashcan next to my bed and a concerned note from my friends. To this day, I do not even remember going out AT ALL. I have no idea what I did or where I was. Think about that. It's kind of scary to be that out of control.
If I wasn't blacking out entirely, I was drunk to the point that I had to be carried out of the party. At every party. Having "just two" didn't compute in my brain. Where's the fun in that? The whole goal of the evening is to reach the if-I-have-one-more-I-will-barf buzz and keep it as long as possible. Duh. But of course, I am an alcoholic, so the stopping point for me was always "just one more and I'll stop." Remember the girl at the frat party who was always found sitting on a step, slurring and crying and asking everyone for a cigarette? The one with barf all over her tank top and mascara smeared all over her face? Who had to be baby-sat by her girlfriends? That was me. Every weekend. And by weekend, I mean Wednesday thru Saturday nights. Alcoholics are always up for a party.
My ability to increase my tolerance for alcohol was frightening. By the end of my first semester in college, I could put down 10-12 beers. They were like soda pop to me. I weighed about 130 pounds. I was drinking this amount of beer in less than 2 hours. I'm no good at math, but it's pretty safe to say that I was far over the legal driving limit. I remember strategizing on Friday and Saturday nights, using complicated formulas to ensure maximum alcohol consumption: "Ok, if I don't eat anything between noon and six, and then eat as many breadsticks as I can an hour and a half before I leave to go out, I should be able to drink 2 extra beers before I barf." -- Who does that??? That is not normal!
It wasn't just the urge to drink as much as I possibly could, as quickly as I could. Just like any other alcoholic, I didn't give a rat's ass what the beverage was, I just wanted as much of it as possible, as quickly as possible. If you are a normal person, and you despise tequila, when you go to a party that serves nothing but tequila, you are probably going to drink water or soda pop all night. Not the alcoholic. They will think, "Crap. I hate tequila. This is going to suck." -- and then they will line up the shots and down ten of them before you can blink an eye! That makes absolutely no sense. It's like someone who hates broccoli eating 2 pounds of it, just because it's there.
One of the worst signs of an alcohol problem is a change in personality. When I was drunk, I became hostile and angry. I tried to pick fist fights with my friends. I literally wanted to punch the snot out of anyone and everyone. If you know me in person, this concept is laughable. I am such a wuss that I won't even do wheelies on a bicycle. I have some friends who have never even seen me lose my temper. But when I drank, I turned into a psychotic bitch with the shortest fuse you've ever seen. It would take nothing to set me off.
As you can probably guess, denial plays a huge role in an alcoholic's life. Example thoughts:
"I am totally ok to drive." (Um, no, you're not!)
"That guy is HOT." (Riiiight)
"She's not that pissed at me. (Um, you just made out with her boyfriend.)
I look smokin' hot right now. "(Is that why your hair is plastered to your skull and you can't walk?)
"My skirt is totally covering my butt." (You just flashed an entire room of total strangers.)
"This party is awesome!" (...if by "awesome" you mean that you are the only person on the dance floor because it's 4am and the party is over.)
"I don't know. I guess someone stole my keys." (Actually, drunk ass, you dropped them somewhere.)
I did something else that my just seem like strange behavior, unless you too are someone familiar with alcoholism: I became extremely possessive with my alcohol. If I brought my own alcohol to a party, I would label it with my name, patrol the fridge to make sure no one stole it, and refuse to share so much as a sip with anyone. You see, I have the brain of an alcoholic, and the thought of running out of alcohol was terrifying to me, especially when I was under 21. This is why you hear of alcoholics hiding bottles everywhere. It's because they don't ever want to run out. Of course, I knew that hiding alcohol was a sign of alcoholism, so I fought the urge to do this. If I didn't hide it, I must not be an alcoholic, right?
I used to (and strangely enough, still do) pressure my friends to drink as much as I did. To an alcoholic's brain, as long as everyone else is drinking like you do, that means your relationship with alcohol is normal. If everyone's jumping off a bridge, then it must be an OK thing to do. This is why it's common to see an alcoholic hang out with other alcoholics. Now that I am sober, I have watched other alcoholics grow visibly uncomfortable around me, especially when I tell them that I am sober because of my alcoholic tendencies. Other alcoholics will often stop talking to me or pressure me to drink, even when I have said, "No, thank you" several times.
And I can spot an alcoholic ten miles away. Some people have gay-dar, I have alcoholic-dar. Now, I'm not as adamant about it as my mother, who honestly believes every third person on the planet is a raging alcoholic, but there are a lot of them out there. Some are like me, and become alcoholics from day one. Others cultivate their addiction over a period of decades. A few, like my grandmother, wait until a life-changing event (in her case, the death of her husband) happens. They turn to the bottle to soothe themselves. But I can always spot them, sometimes within minutes. Their actions are so familiar to me, it's like looking in a mirror.
Ten years ago today, my family came home from vacation to find me blitzed out of my mind. I had remained at home, claiming I had to work at my waitressing job, when really what I wanted to do was throw a huge keg party and spend the majority of the week finding my next drink. (Lying to loved ones takes a back seat to booze when you're an alcoholic.) After the parties were over, I had to clean up the house before they got home. Part of this cleaning involved disposing of the leftover alcohol. So I decided to have "just one" margarita while I cleaned up the house. It would be such a shame to pour the tequila down the drain. By the time my family got home, I was slurring my speech as I mopped the kitchen floor. My mother, a recovering alcoholic herself, knew instantly what was going on. To this day, the look on her face -- a mix of fear, anger and guilt -- haunts me. At that moment, I knew that I could not keep drinking and have a good relationship with my mother. I could not bear the thought of making her feel that way ever again.
That was the last time I ever drank. I quit in a very unusual way -- cold turkey, and without the assistance of Alcoholics Anonymous. This is VERY unusual, actually. I have never even been to an AA meeting, although I'm not saying I will never go to one. There is no cure for this disease.
I would be lying if I said that I never want to drink alcohol. I never tried gin or Midori before I quit, and I think melontinis and gin & tonics smell wonderful. I know I would have loved them. And yes, there are certain times when I miss the stress-relieving and social lubrication benefits of a drink. Luckily, I have found that Xanax and cigarettes are excellent substitutes. And (non-alcoholic) beer is now what I crave when I've had a long day. I guess you can take the alcohol out of the alcoholic, but not the alcoholic out of the alcohol aisle. The worst times are when I'm out with my girlfriends, because I do miss getting a little buzzy (ok, a LOT buzzy) with my girlfriends. I never did like looking sloppy drunk around guys. Not that it ever stopped me, back then. And I still fight the urge to escape reality, boredom and difficult emotions with substances. (Hello, Vicodin!)
But somehow, I have managed to say "No, thank you" to alcohol for the last ten years.
Go me.
If you recognize yourself or a loved one in any of my descriptions above, you might want to look at this quiz. A score of 8 or more indicates a possible problem with alcohol. My score was 19.
If you are doing the math, you are realizing that I did not drink on my 21st birthday. And that I quit drinking after my freshman year of college. I will add that I do not even sip champagne at New Year's or drink the wine at church.
A lot of people ask me how on earth I could have been an alcoholic at such a young age. The answer to this is that many alcoholics are born that way. In my family, it seems to be genetic: two grandparents, one parent, three siblings and several extended family members have all been afflicted with this disease. At least 2 have died in alcohol-related deaths. So whether I began drinking at age 16 or age 43, the results would have been the same: I have and will always have a problem controlling my drinking.
When I tell people that I really only drank for two years, they are even more confused. How did I realize I had a problem after only 2 years? After all, the majority of college freshmen are binge drinkers, especially on the weekends, and especially at large state universities. But by the time I was about 12, I had seen the effects of alcoholism on my family. Thanks to my mother's lectures and descriptions, I could rattle off the signs of an alcohol problem as easily as my multiplication tables.
By the time I was a senior in high school, alcohol was readily available to me, and like most young people, I was all about experimenting. Gradually, I began to see some bad signs...
Blackouts were my first sign that I may not have a normal and healthy relationship with alcohol. Yes, many novice alcohol drinkers have blackouts. But I was having them about once a month. And it wasn't like certain parts of the evening were hazy. I'm talking about the WHOLE NIGHT. Once, I woke up in my dorm room, dressed in party clothes, with a trashcan next to my bed and a concerned note from my friends. To this day, I do not even remember going out AT ALL. I have no idea what I did or where I was. Think about that. It's kind of scary to be that out of control.
If I wasn't blacking out entirely, I was drunk to the point that I had to be carried out of the party. At every party. Having "just two" didn't compute in my brain. Where's the fun in that? The whole goal of the evening is to reach the if-I-have-one-more-I-will-barf buzz and keep it as long as possible. Duh. But of course, I am an alcoholic, so the stopping point for me was always "just one more and I'll stop." Remember the girl at the frat party who was always found sitting on a step, slurring and crying and asking everyone for a cigarette? The one with barf all over her tank top and mascara smeared all over her face? Who had to be baby-sat by her girlfriends? That was me. Every weekend. And by weekend, I mean Wednesday thru Saturday nights. Alcoholics are always up for a party.
My ability to increase my tolerance for alcohol was frightening. By the end of my first semester in college, I could put down 10-12 beers. They were like soda pop to me. I weighed about 130 pounds. I was drinking this amount of beer in less than 2 hours. I'm no good at math, but it's pretty safe to say that I was far over the legal driving limit. I remember strategizing on Friday and Saturday nights, using complicated formulas to ensure maximum alcohol consumption: "Ok, if I don't eat anything between noon and six, and then eat as many breadsticks as I can an hour and a half before I leave to go out, I should be able to drink 2 extra beers before I barf." -- Who does that??? That is not normal!
It wasn't just the urge to drink as much as I possibly could, as quickly as I could. Just like any other alcoholic, I didn't give a rat's ass what the beverage was, I just wanted as much of it as possible, as quickly as possible. If you are a normal person, and you despise tequila, when you go to a party that serves nothing but tequila, you are probably going to drink water or soda pop all night. Not the alcoholic. They will think, "Crap. I hate tequila. This is going to suck." -- and then they will line up the shots and down ten of them before you can blink an eye! That makes absolutely no sense. It's like someone who hates broccoli eating 2 pounds of it, just because it's there.
One of the worst signs of an alcohol problem is a change in personality. When I was drunk, I became hostile and angry. I tried to pick fist fights with my friends. I literally wanted to punch the snot out of anyone and everyone. If you know me in person, this concept is laughable. I am such a wuss that I won't even do wheelies on a bicycle. I have some friends who have never even seen me lose my temper. But when I drank, I turned into a psychotic bitch with the shortest fuse you've ever seen. It would take nothing to set me off.
As you can probably guess, denial plays a huge role in an alcoholic's life. Example thoughts:
"I am totally ok to drive." (Um, no, you're not!)
"That guy is HOT." (Riiiight)
"She's not that pissed at me. (Um, you just made out with her boyfriend.)
I look smokin' hot right now. "(Is that why your hair is plastered to your skull and you can't walk?)
"My skirt is totally covering my butt." (You just flashed an entire room of total strangers.)
"This party is awesome!" (...if by "awesome" you mean that you are the only person on the dance floor because it's 4am and the party is over.)
"I don't know. I guess someone stole my keys." (Actually, drunk ass, you dropped them somewhere.)
I did something else that my just seem like strange behavior, unless you too are someone familiar with alcoholism: I became extremely possessive with my alcohol. If I brought my own alcohol to a party, I would label it with my name, patrol the fridge to make sure no one stole it, and refuse to share so much as a sip with anyone. You see, I have the brain of an alcoholic, and the thought of running out of alcohol was terrifying to me, especially when I was under 21. This is why you hear of alcoholics hiding bottles everywhere. It's because they don't ever want to run out. Of course, I knew that hiding alcohol was a sign of alcoholism, so I fought the urge to do this. If I didn't hide it, I must not be an alcoholic, right?
I used to (and strangely enough, still do) pressure my friends to drink as much as I did. To an alcoholic's brain, as long as everyone else is drinking like you do, that means your relationship with alcohol is normal. If everyone's jumping off a bridge, then it must be an OK thing to do. This is why it's common to see an alcoholic hang out with other alcoholics. Now that I am sober, I have watched other alcoholics grow visibly uncomfortable around me, especially when I tell them that I am sober because of my alcoholic tendencies. Other alcoholics will often stop talking to me or pressure me to drink, even when I have said, "No, thank you" several times.
And I can spot an alcoholic ten miles away. Some people have gay-dar, I have alcoholic-dar. Now, I'm not as adamant about it as my mother, who honestly believes every third person on the planet is a raging alcoholic, but there are a lot of them out there. Some are like me, and become alcoholics from day one. Others cultivate their addiction over a period of decades. A few, like my grandmother, wait until a life-changing event (in her case, the death of her husband) happens. They turn to the bottle to soothe themselves. But I can always spot them, sometimes within minutes. Their actions are so familiar to me, it's like looking in a mirror.
Ten years ago today, my family came home from vacation to find me blitzed out of my mind. I had remained at home, claiming I had to work at my waitressing job, when really what I wanted to do was throw a huge keg party and spend the majority of the week finding my next drink. (Lying to loved ones takes a back seat to booze when you're an alcoholic.) After the parties were over, I had to clean up the house before they got home. Part of this cleaning involved disposing of the leftover alcohol. So I decided to have "just one" margarita while I cleaned up the house. It would be such a shame to pour the tequila down the drain. By the time my family got home, I was slurring my speech as I mopped the kitchen floor. My mother, a recovering alcoholic herself, knew instantly what was going on. To this day, the look on her face -- a mix of fear, anger and guilt -- haunts me. At that moment, I knew that I could not keep drinking and have a good relationship with my mother. I could not bear the thought of making her feel that way ever again.
That was the last time I ever drank. I quit in a very unusual way -- cold turkey, and without the assistance of Alcoholics Anonymous. This is VERY unusual, actually. I have never even been to an AA meeting, although I'm not saying I will never go to one. There is no cure for this disease.
I would be lying if I said that I never want to drink alcohol. I never tried gin or Midori before I quit, and I think melontinis and gin & tonics smell wonderful. I know I would have loved them. And yes, there are certain times when I miss the stress-relieving and social lubrication benefits of a drink. Luckily, I have found that Xanax and cigarettes are excellent substitutes. And (non-alcoholic) beer is now what I crave when I've had a long day. I guess you can take the alcohol out of the alcoholic, but not the alcoholic out of the alcohol aisle. The worst times are when I'm out with my girlfriends, because I do miss getting a little buzzy (ok, a LOT buzzy) with my girlfriends. I never did like looking sloppy drunk around guys. Not that it ever stopped me, back then. And I still fight the urge to escape reality, boredom and difficult emotions with substances. (Hello, Vicodin!)
But somehow, I have managed to say "No, thank you" to alcohol for the last ten years.
Go me.
If you recognize yourself or a loved one in any of my descriptions above, you might want to look at this quiz. A score of 8 or more indicates a possible problem with alcohol. My score was 19.
Monday, June 09, 2008
Faux Pas Over Faux Pearls
I was working at Dildo's the other night. So far, so good. I'm still getting used to my crammed schedule, but my coworkers are nice and the work is pretty fun. Until I can "prove" myself as a salesgirl, I am currently working in the accessories department, awaiting permission to move over to the Clinique counter.
Nevermind that I already have 2 1/2 years of Clinique experience, working at the Dildo's across town. There's some new rule for everyone -- you have to go to a "regular" area and play Good Little Employee before you can go to a "specialized" area. Whatever. So for the time being, I help women shop for purses, jewelry, scarves, wallets, watches, sunglasses and hats.
Which isn't half bad, considering I love to shop for those things. So I get to shop vicariously through these women -- which is great for my bank account. I get all the fun of shopping and none of the buyer's remorse. It might not be the end of the world if they never move me to cosmetics, actually.
The other night, I was helping an older lady find a necklace to match her shirt. After some searching, we found the perfect one. I was ringing her up and chatting with her, when she said,
"Can I ask, are you expecting?"
She put this weird emphasis on "expecting". Almost like she was saying, "Why the hell aren't you announcing this to the world? Why are you hiding this fact, you modest young thing? Don't you know this is the greatest thing that could ever possibly happen to you in your entire life? You should be shouting it from the hilltops, like Maria Von Trapp."
Needless to say, I was stunned speechless. For once. You could almost hear the needle on the record player being ripped off. I froze.
This is not happening. I am not being mistaken for a pregnant woman. I am not that fat.
I am not.
I am not.
I am not.
FUCK. Am I?
*several blinks on my behalf*
*several blinks on her behalf*
We sat there, blinking at each other, while she grimaced and awkwardly gathered up her things to leave, and I smoothed my shirt down, subconsciously ensuring that no pillow had magically appeared under my top. What. The. Fuck.
Well, of course, you know what happened next: The Voices all woke up and turned their heads in unison to look at this old lady. And then, they all had to get their two cents in.
"Oh, no she di-dant!!!" yelled Bitch Mode, complete with index-finger-waving hand gestures.
"You should ask her if she's senile! That'll shut her up!" said Sarcastic.
"Well, I've been telling you for months that you have to do something about this weight you've been putting on. What do you expect?" sniped Inner Mom Voice.
"Oh my gawd!! You're a COW!!!" shrieks Hormonal. She runs away to sob into her hands. Hormonal is such a drama queen.
"Well, the way you an CN have been acting lately, who knows? Maybe you are!" giggles Pervert.
Horny is in stitches. The two of them make randy hand gestures and proceed to take turns cracking each other up with their obscene double entendres. The peanut gallery is in full swing. Great.
I roll my eyes.
"You really picked out a great necklace for her. Very stylish. I think The Czarina would like it, too. Let's go see if there's another one," observed Space Cadet, who proceeded to wander off.
Good Point chimed in: "Dude, everyone and their mother knows that is something you NEVER ask, unless you are 200% positive the woman is pregnant. And THIS is why that rule exists! She just made a HUGE social faux pas!!"
"Hmmm...I wonder if there are earrings that match....." mused Space Cadet. "You could make a set...."
"What was that??? Pregnant? Who said that? Who said the 'P' word? OMG! We have to get to a drugstore NOW, people!!" said Panic, heartbeat racing.
Good Point calmed Panic down and then added, "Look, I bet she feels worse than you do, running all over town with a big, fat mouth like that. Assuming things about people. She has her foot in her mouth right now. She was embarrassed, you know you could tell."
"But baby-doll tops are IN right now!!!" protested Single Girl.
"Yeah! There's nothing wrong with ruffles and empire waist tops! They're feminine!" agreed Prisspot.
"Yeah, but in the past, tops like that have been reserved strictly for expectant mothers," explained Overly Analytical. "There's a generational gap at play, here. Your fashion taste, while good, is confusing to the elderly."
"Well, if that's the case, there should be Public Service Announcements about this issue," Nerd said. "The public needs to be aware. Maybe we could call our Congressmen..."
"Maybe she just thought you would be a really good mom, and she was hoping you were!" Stupidly Optimistic gushed. "Or maybe she had you confused with the other lady in this department who IS pregnant!"
Sarcastic and Cynical gave her a look. She shut up.
"Oh, this is just great. For the last three months, ever since you started buying those tops, you have been running around town, causing people to think 'Aw, she's having a baby! Isn't that wonderful?' I mean, who knows how many people have thinking that!" lectured Pessimistically Paranoid, pacing in a circle.
Oh Jeez. What if the next time someone made this mistake, they do it in front of CN??? Oh, the mortification!!! I pondered the thought of chucking all my new tops in the trash, as soon as I got home that night. Cheapskate vetoed this idea. Single Girl backed her up, as did Prisspot. Damn. What am I going to do about these shirts? Buy a bunch of belts??
I was jolted out of my thoughts by Pessimistically Paranoid's ranting.
"I mean, if you look pregnant now, what are you going to look like when you really ARE pregnant?" she lamented.
"Babies are nice..." Space Cadet said to herself absentmindedly, as she looked at a rack of earrings.
Bitch Mode and Hormonal were whispering to each other and picking up the phone.
"Hey, what are you doing?" asked Pessimistically Paranoid.
"Duh. We're calling security to tell them that there's an old lady who just stole a necklace here in the store," they replied, snickering.
Cynical snorted. "That'll teach her!" she laughed.
Luckily, Bitch Mode and Hormonal were stopped from carrying out their plan by Logical. Sometimes, I think she's the only adult Voice.
Confident was no where to be found. I learned later that she was busy, lobbying for more gym time and fresh veggies in the fridge. And for once, I think most of the Voices listened to her. Even Hormonal, who tried really hard to cry on the way home, but just couldn't. Fashion choices aside, perhaps this was a wake-up call.
"Gah, you are now officially fat enough to be confused with a pregnant woman!!" cried Hormonal.
"Or maybe it's just because you have huge tits, just like most pregnant women do!" said Pervert.
"Or maybe she's just a rude, ignorant old bag," chimed Good Point.
Good point, indeed. Pass the brownies, will ya?
Nevermind that I already have 2 1/2 years of Clinique experience, working at the Dildo's across town. There's some new rule for everyone -- you have to go to a "regular" area and play Good Little Employee before you can go to a "specialized" area. Whatever. So for the time being, I help women shop for purses, jewelry, scarves, wallets, watches, sunglasses and hats.
Which isn't half bad, considering I love to shop for those things. So I get to shop vicariously through these women -- which is great for my bank account. I get all the fun of shopping and none of the buyer's remorse. It might not be the end of the world if they never move me to cosmetics, actually.
The other night, I was helping an older lady find a necklace to match her shirt. After some searching, we found the perfect one. I was ringing her up and chatting with her, when she said,
"Can I ask, are you expecting?"
She put this weird emphasis on "expecting". Almost like she was saying, "Why the hell aren't you announcing this to the world? Why are you hiding this fact, you modest young thing? Don't you know this is the greatest thing that could ever possibly happen to you in your entire life? You should be shouting it from the hilltops, like Maria Von Trapp."
Needless to say, I was stunned speechless. For once. You could almost hear the needle on the record player being ripped off. I froze.
This is not happening. I am not being mistaken for a pregnant woman. I am not that fat.
I am not.
I am not.
I am not.
FUCK. Am I?
*several blinks on my behalf*
*several blinks on her behalf*
We sat there, blinking at each other, while she grimaced and awkwardly gathered up her things to leave, and I smoothed my shirt down, subconsciously ensuring that no pillow had magically appeared under my top. What. The. Fuck.
Well, of course, you know what happened next: The Voices all woke up and turned their heads in unison to look at this old lady. And then, they all had to get their two cents in.
"Oh, no she di-dant!!!" yelled Bitch Mode, complete with index-finger-waving hand gestures.
"You should ask her if she's senile! That'll shut her up!" said Sarcastic.
"Well, I've been telling you for months that you have to do something about this weight you've been putting on. What do you expect?" sniped Inner Mom Voice.
"Oh my gawd!! You're a COW!!!" shrieks Hormonal. She runs away to sob into her hands. Hormonal is such a drama queen.
"Well, the way you an CN have been acting lately, who knows? Maybe you are!" giggles Pervert.
Horny is in stitches. The two of them make randy hand gestures and proceed to take turns cracking each other up with their obscene double entendres. The peanut gallery is in full swing. Great.
I roll my eyes.
"You really picked out a great necklace for her. Very stylish. I think The Czarina would like it, too. Let's go see if there's another one," observed Space Cadet, who proceeded to wander off.
Good Point chimed in: "Dude, everyone and their mother knows that is something you NEVER ask, unless you are 200% positive the woman is pregnant. And THIS is why that rule exists! She just made a HUGE social faux pas!!"
"Hmmm...I wonder if there are earrings that match....." mused Space Cadet. "You could make a set...."
"What was that??? Pregnant? Who said that? Who said the 'P' word? OMG! We have to get to a drugstore NOW, people!!" said Panic, heartbeat racing.
Good Point calmed Panic down and then added, "Look, I bet she feels worse than you do, running all over town with a big, fat mouth like that. Assuming things about people. She has her foot in her mouth right now. She was embarrassed, you know you could tell."
"But baby-doll tops are IN right now!!!" protested Single Girl.
"Yeah! There's nothing wrong with ruffles and empire waist tops! They're feminine!" agreed Prisspot.
"Yeah, but in the past, tops like that have been reserved strictly for expectant mothers," explained Overly Analytical. "There's a generational gap at play, here. Your fashion taste, while good, is confusing to the elderly."
"Well, if that's the case, there should be Public Service Announcements about this issue," Nerd said. "The public needs to be aware. Maybe we could call our Congressmen..."
"Maybe she just thought you would be a really good mom, and she was hoping you were!" Stupidly Optimistic gushed. "Or maybe she had you confused with the other lady in this department who IS pregnant!"
Sarcastic and Cynical gave her a look. She shut up.
"Oh, this is just great. For the last three months, ever since you started buying those tops, you have been running around town, causing people to think 'Aw, she's having a baby! Isn't that wonderful?' I mean, who knows how many people have thinking that!" lectured Pessimistically Paranoid, pacing in a circle.
Oh Jeez. What if the next time someone made this mistake, they do it in front of CN??? Oh, the mortification!!! I pondered the thought of chucking all my new tops in the trash, as soon as I got home that night. Cheapskate vetoed this idea. Single Girl backed her up, as did Prisspot. Damn. What am I going to do about these shirts? Buy a bunch of belts??
I was jolted out of my thoughts by Pessimistically Paranoid's ranting.
"I mean, if you look pregnant now, what are you going to look like when you really ARE pregnant?" she lamented.
"Babies are nice..." Space Cadet said to herself absentmindedly, as she looked at a rack of earrings.
Bitch Mode and Hormonal were whispering to each other and picking up the phone.
"Hey, what are you doing?" asked Pessimistically Paranoid.
"Duh. We're calling security to tell them that there's an old lady who just stole a necklace here in the store," they replied, snickering.
Cynical snorted. "That'll teach her!" she laughed.
Luckily, Bitch Mode and Hormonal were stopped from carrying out their plan by Logical. Sometimes, I think she's the only adult Voice.
Confident was no where to be found. I learned later that she was busy, lobbying for more gym time and fresh veggies in the fridge. And for once, I think most of the Voices listened to her. Even Hormonal, who tried really hard to cry on the way home, but just couldn't. Fashion choices aside, perhaps this was a wake-up call.
"Gah, you are now officially fat enough to be confused with a pregnant woman!!" cried Hormonal.
"Or maybe it's just because you have huge tits, just like most pregnant women do!" said Pervert.
"Or maybe she's just a rude, ignorant old bag," chimed Good Point.
Good point, indeed. Pass the brownies, will ya?
Friday, May 02, 2008
The Big Little Interview
Thanks to a scheduling change, I went to my interview for Big Brothers Big Sisters yesterday, instead of at the end of the month. This was really great, because now I can get matched up with a "Little" a lot faster.
I really like the girl who is in charge of interviewing new "Bigs". She's about my age and seems really cool. I would like to go grab coffee with her, actually. I am wondering if she can hang out with Bigs outside of the program or not...it's hard to find new girlfriends, you know? Now I'm getting off-track. Shocker, I know. Anyway.
So the interview takes about 2 hours, because they have to ask you all sorts of questions about your family, your past, your use of drugs/alcohol, whether or not you own guns, your pets, your living situation, your sexuality, what you hope to get out of volunteering for them, what kind of a "Little" you want, etc.
It was all going well, until I embarrassed the crap out of myself.
Interviewer: So, tell me what kinds of activities you'd do at your house when your Little comes over.
VB: Ooh! I made a list, but I left it on my desk at work. Let's see....cooking, baking, reading -- I like to read books to kids -- coloring, playing with my dog, I could help them with their homework, board games, we could play cards, arts and crafts...we could watch movies together. *I paused, thinking for a second* Actually, now that I think about it, all my DVDs are mostly adult movies, so that might not be a good idea....I MEAN!!! OMG!! No, not that kind of adult movie! I meant like, you know, PG-13 or R rated movies!! OMG!! *I turn beet red and look at my lap*
Interviewer: *laughing at me* No, it's ok. I know what you mean.
VB: Because just for the record, I don't have ANY movies like that at my house! None! Zero! And even if I did, they are NOT appropriate for children!
Anyway, I was so mortified that I said that, I was fidgety and nervous for the rest of the interview! Ugh. *rolls eyes*
I think I made up for it later on in the interview, though:
Interviewer: If you were to look back on your experience volunteering for us, years from now, what would you hope you had accomplished in the life of your Little?
VB: I would hope that I showed her how to be more confident, to believe in herself, to reach for her goals......and to think for herself. To be an independent and confident girl. That's what I would hope to do.
Interviewer: Wow! I don't think anyone has ever said that to me! Usually people just say that they hope their Little had fun. And that's about it. I am so glad you feel like that!
(YESSS! Go me!)
It's pretty hard to answer all of these questions without emptying your closet of some skeletons. They ask you about drug use, sex, family issues, any abuse you've had, how you deal with personal problems, etc. I confessed to smoking pot a few times in college. I told her about the deaths in my family (I tried hard not to cry, but I needed a kleenex!) and all the alcoholism in my family. All the stuff like that. Luckily, I don't have any major skeletons, so it wasn't too bad-- I'm a pretty open person, as I'm sure you all know. Just kind of strange to sit down and tell a total stranger everything that's personal about you, from childhood up to today. All in one go. Face to face.
At the time, it didn't feel weird, but when I left and got back in my car, I thought, "OMG! I just told that girl EVERYTHING AT ONCE." And I felt kind of vulnerable. And freakish.
For about 10 minutes. Then, I got over it. (This is so typically me! I don't think I have ever truly regretted being an open book!)
The whole interview went really well, and she told me that she really liked my attitude and thought I had very realistic expectations for the relationship I would build with my "Little". She also liked all the experience I've had hanging out with kids of various ages. Between being a former middle/high school teacher and reading stories to kids as young as 2 at the library, I have experience hanging out with kids of all ages, and I don't really have a preference for any particular age group. She said I'd be easy to match up with a Little. YESSSS!!!!
She told me what her "typical" Littles were like. A lot of them are from single-mother homes, in kind of bad neighborhoods. The mothers don't let their kids outside the house, because there's so much crime and gang activity. So these poor kids are cooped up inside all the time, watching tv. They just need an outlet. A way to escape that. She said a lot of kids have been in homes where there was domestic violence in the past, or even drug use. But the families are not allowed to enter the program if there is currently any evidence of violence, crime, drug abuse or abuse going on in the home. (So I don't have to worry about my safety, which is good.)
She told me some REALLY sad stories about some of her tough cases. I think she was trying to gauge how well I could handle kids like that. One girl has dealt with every single kind of abuse under the sun, courtesy of her own father, and she's doing drugs and alcohol, and her mother is enabling her and she is cutting herself. WOW. Another family is dealing with the fact that the father is on death row. Another girl has been dealing with sexual identity issues, and she just found out she's pregnant. WOW.
But these are extreme and rare cases. Most of the kids are in a situation where the parents want their kids to have an outlet that is safe and fun, so that they don't get into trouble. Most of the kids come from happy, single-parent homes, where the mother works a LOT.
I told the interviewer that I didn't know if I could handle the extreme stuff or not. Maybe I can, maybe I can't, I honestly don't know, because I have no experience with that type of stuff. This isn't the answer she wanted to hear, I'm sure, but I honestly don't know if I would know what to do in those situations. I told her I'd want to have some kind of training/debriefing for that. And that I'd probably just start crying and tell the kid they can come live at my house! LOL
I told her that I have been casually encouraging CN to volunteer for them, too. Most of the kids who come to BBBS are boys, because their single mothers want them to have a good male role model in their lives. She seemed to appreciate that I've been trying to recruit Big Brothers! And if any of my male readers are interested in volunteering for their local BBBS, I'm sure it would be appreciated!!! Hint hint!!
So that's it for now. It will take at least a month until she can begin matching me up with anyone. They do two background checks on me, so it takes a while. But I am so excited!!! I can't wait!!!
I really like the girl who is in charge of interviewing new "Bigs". She's about my age and seems really cool. I would like to go grab coffee with her, actually. I am wondering if she can hang out with Bigs outside of the program or not...it's hard to find new girlfriends, you know? Now I'm getting off-track. Shocker, I know. Anyway.
So the interview takes about 2 hours, because they have to ask you all sorts of questions about your family, your past, your use of drugs/alcohol, whether or not you own guns, your pets, your living situation, your sexuality, what you hope to get out of volunteering for them, what kind of a "Little" you want, etc.
It was all going well, until I embarrassed the crap out of myself.
Interviewer: So, tell me what kinds of activities you'd do at your house when your Little comes over.
VB: Ooh! I made a list, but I left it on my desk at work. Let's see....cooking, baking, reading -- I like to read books to kids -- coloring, playing with my dog, I could help them with their homework, board games, we could play cards, arts and crafts...we could watch movies together. *I paused, thinking for a second* Actually, now that I think about it, all my DVDs are mostly adult movies, so that might not be a good idea....I MEAN!!! OMG!! No, not that kind of adult movie! I meant like, you know, PG-13 or R rated movies!! OMG!! *I turn beet red and look at my lap*
Interviewer: *laughing at me* No, it's ok. I know what you mean.
VB: Because just for the record, I don't have ANY movies like that at my house! None! Zero! And even if I did, they are NOT appropriate for children!
Anyway, I was so mortified that I said that, I was fidgety and nervous for the rest of the interview! Ugh. *rolls eyes*
I think I made up for it later on in the interview, though:
Interviewer: If you were to look back on your experience volunteering for us, years from now, what would you hope you had accomplished in the life of your Little?
VB: I would hope that I showed her how to be more confident, to believe in herself, to reach for her goals......and to think for herself. To be an independent and confident girl. That's what I would hope to do.
Interviewer: Wow! I don't think anyone has ever said that to me! Usually people just say that they hope their Little had fun. And that's about it. I am so glad you feel like that!
(YESSS! Go me!)
It's pretty hard to answer all of these questions without emptying your closet of some skeletons. They ask you about drug use, sex, family issues, any abuse you've had, how you deal with personal problems, etc. I confessed to smoking pot a few times in college. I told her about the deaths in my family (I tried hard not to cry, but I needed a kleenex!) and all the alcoholism in my family. All the stuff like that. Luckily, I don't have any major skeletons, so it wasn't too bad-- I'm a pretty open person, as I'm sure you all know. Just kind of strange to sit down and tell a total stranger everything that's personal about you, from childhood up to today. All in one go. Face to face.
At the time, it didn't feel weird, but when I left and got back in my car, I thought, "OMG! I just told that girl EVERYTHING AT ONCE." And I felt kind of vulnerable. And freakish.
For about 10 minutes. Then, I got over it. (This is so typically me! I don't think I have ever truly regretted being an open book!)
The whole interview went really well, and she told me that she really liked my attitude and thought I had very realistic expectations for the relationship I would build with my "Little". She also liked all the experience I've had hanging out with kids of various ages. Between being a former middle/high school teacher and reading stories to kids as young as 2 at the library, I have experience hanging out with kids of all ages, and I don't really have a preference for any particular age group. She said I'd be easy to match up with a Little. YESSSS!!!!
She told me what her "typical" Littles were like. A lot of them are from single-mother homes, in kind of bad neighborhoods. The mothers don't let their kids outside the house, because there's so much crime and gang activity. So these poor kids are cooped up inside all the time, watching tv. They just need an outlet. A way to escape that. She said a lot of kids have been in homes where there was domestic violence in the past, or even drug use. But the families are not allowed to enter the program if there is currently any evidence of violence, crime, drug abuse or abuse going on in the home. (So I don't have to worry about my safety, which is good.)
She told me some REALLY sad stories about some of her tough cases. I think she was trying to gauge how well I could handle kids like that. One girl has dealt with every single kind of abuse under the sun, courtesy of her own father, and she's doing drugs and alcohol, and her mother is enabling her and she is cutting herself. WOW. Another family is dealing with the fact that the father is on death row. Another girl has been dealing with sexual identity issues, and she just found out she's pregnant. WOW.
But these are extreme and rare cases. Most of the kids are in a situation where the parents want their kids to have an outlet that is safe and fun, so that they don't get into trouble. Most of the kids come from happy, single-parent homes, where the mother works a LOT.
I told the interviewer that I didn't know if I could handle the extreme stuff or not. Maybe I can, maybe I can't, I honestly don't know, because I have no experience with that type of stuff. This isn't the answer she wanted to hear, I'm sure, but I honestly don't know if I would know what to do in those situations. I told her I'd want to have some kind of training/debriefing for that. And that I'd probably just start crying and tell the kid they can come live at my house! LOL
I told her that I have been casually encouraging CN to volunteer for them, too. Most of the kids who come to BBBS are boys, because their single mothers want them to have a good male role model in their lives. She seemed to appreciate that I've been trying to recruit Big Brothers! And if any of my male readers are interested in volunteering for their local BBBS, I'm sure it would be appreciated!!! Hint hint!!
So that's it for now. It will take at least a month until she can begin matching me up with anyone. They do two background checks on me, so it takes a while. But I am so excited!!! I can't wait!!!
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
He Gets Me
CN and I hung out together most of last weekend. On the first of every month, we have Date Night, because we started dating on September 1st. So last Saturday, we made plans for dinner and a movie. (We had never been to a movie theater together before! Isn't that crazy?)
True to form, I was ready about 15 minutes after I said I'd be ready. CN teases me about this a lot, despite the fact that I told him a long time ago that VB time is always +15. I guess men just don't listen. ;)
So we hurry off to dinner on the other side of town. We have to eat really fast to make it in time for the movie. We were planning on seeing The Mist. Luckily, the Italian place wasn't very crowded, so we got out of there before the movie started.
We got to the theater just as the movie was starting. Whew! But there was just one, tiny little problem: there was a HUGE line at the ticket counter.
"There's no way we'll get in there in time to see the beginning," CN said.
He was right. We were too late. There's no way we could get in there without missing at least 15 minutes of the movie. Everyone in town wanted to get in this theater.
"Crap! I ruined Date Night!!" I said, angry at myself. I was pretty upset, and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I felt like a jerk. He tried to make it seem like it was no big deal, but I could tell he was a little upset about missing the movie. That just made me feel even worse.
That's when I told CN that from now on, he needs to tell me to be ready 30 minutes before we actually need to be somewhere. He agreed, and I apologized for being late. I told him I would take him to see the movie the next day -- my treat. He said ok.
The next morning, we went to church (shock and awe, I know! The Heathen Girl goes to church!) with a couple he knows. They are a really nice couple that are getting ready for their first baby. And thanks to our new time policy, I was right on time! Anyway, we went to a church that is not like mine. It's more......modern and liberal than what I'm used to, so it was an adjustment for me. I sounded like a 5 year old, with all of the questions I asked:
"Why is there a rock band here? Are we going to be on TV? Because there's a lot of TV crew-looking people here. Why are those people raising their arms when they sing? Why isn't anyone doing the readings? When do we get to kneel? What's with the big screen TVs? Why aren't we using our hymnals? I've never seen a church where people are allowed to wear jeans and flip-flops. And where's Jesus? I don't see him anywhere...."
CN just shook his head and chuckled to himself.
The questions actually started the night before, when CN asked me if I wanted to go with him to church. "Ok, sure. What is the proper procedure for when you receive the bread and wine there? I need to know, because I don't drink wine at church. I mean, you know I don't drink alcohol, but it's also because I can't stand the taste of wine. So how would it work if I want to opt out?" I asked.
"Oh, they don't even serve it, so you don't have to worry," he replied.
"I'm sorry....what? No bread or wine? Isn't that like....the whole point? The main scene?" I asked, confused. "Are you teasing me? You're making that up. Of course they serve bread and wine. It's not church without it! Stop pulling my leg!"
CN swore up and down that he was not kidding.
This blew my mind. I have never heard such a thing before. I thought all Christians had bread and wine when they went to church on Sundays. (Can you tell I was raised Catholic?)
So I was pretty interested in seeing exactly what went on at this modern church. It turns out that this particular church only does the bread and grape juice (yeah, no wine at this church -- another thing that blew my mind. "Juice?? WTF??) on the first Sunday of the month. So I got to have my Wonder bread and grape juice. It was very surreal to me. And I had forgotten how yummy grape juice is, so that was a good thing.
I've never been to a church service that wasn't my own denomination before. It was sort of like traveling to Europe: the general idea is the same, but there's little differences between this new place and your home. Some of the differences are cool, some of them make you feel uncomfortable.
We were having breakfast with the other couple after church. On the way to the restaurant, I explained to CN that I'm used to real wine, lots of moving around and a more formal presentation. I told him I was not totally comfortable with his modern church. It didn't feel boring and long like what I'm used to.
Call me crazy, but when I'm at church, I want to be hating it. I want it to feel like church. It's not supposed to be fun, in my mind. I want to get the hell outta there ASAP. I want to wear uncomfortable clothes, watch the same routine service I've watched since I was a kid, get a good serving of guilt, real wine, wafers that stick to the roof of your mouth, some hymns, and then I want to go home and forget about all about church until next Sunday. THAT is church.
He told me he'd never been to a Catholic or an Episcopalian service. I told him he'd better hit the gym before he goes to one, because there's a lot of moving around!
"First you stand, then you sit, then you kneel. Then you sit again, then you stand, then you kneel....sit, stand, kneel, stand, sit, kneel....and you sing a lot," I explained.
"I get the idea. We can go to your church next time, if you want," he replied.
"Um...ok. We might have to go to a new Episcopal church, though, because I haven't been to mine in at least a year, and now I'm too embarrassed to go back," I said.
"So......let me get this straight. You haven't been to any church in a year, and you're telling me that you'd rather go to NO church than one that is different than yours. Right?"
"Exactly! Wow, hon, you're a good listener. You ready for some pancakes?" I asked, as we pulled into the restaurant parking lot. CN rolled his eyes and sighed.
We had breakfast with the other couple, and then went to go see The Mist. I hated it. I almost got up to leave about 3 times. I don't like gory movies, and this was full of it. Plus, the ending SUCKS. I will stop there, in case you haven't seen it yet, but let's just say, I was not impressed.
When we left the theater, CN informed me that we would not be going to the movies a lot.
"But why?? I like going to the movies!" I protested.
"Because you yelled at the screen the whole time! People were staring at us!" he said.
"Oh. Sorry. Was I that loud?" I asked.
"YES!" he said, laughing.
"OMG! Why didn't you tell me to shut up? Did I embarrass you?" I asked.
"No, I thought it was funny. I tried to tell you to be quiet, but you didn't listen. That's why I was grabbing your arm. You ignored it. After that, I just gave up. But you talk too much at the movies. We need to stick to watching them at home from now on."
Oops.
That's kind of good, though, because you can't be late to movies you watch at home. Maybe he's got a good idea here. Plus, I can yell at the tv all I want!
Later on that day, he and I were sitting on my bed. I looked at my room.
"WOW. My room is really messy. I'm a slob. Don't you think I'm a slob, honey?" I said.
CN thought for a minute, then replied, "No. You're just really, really, really bad at putting things away!"
We laughed. I love that he gets me. :)
True to form, I was ready about 15 minutes after I said I'd be ready. CN teases me about this a lot, despite the fact that I told him a long time ago that VB time is always +15. I guess men just don't listen. ;)
So we hurry off to dinner on the other side of town. We have to eat really fast to make it in time for the movie. We were planning on seeing The Mist. Luckily, the Italian place wasn't very crowded, so we got out of there before the movie started.
We got to the theater just as the movie was starting. Whew! But there was just one, tiny little problem: there was a HUGE line at the ticket counter.
"There's no way we'll get in there in time to see the beginning," CN said.
He was right. We were too late. There's no way we could get in there without missing at least 15 minutes of the movie. Everyone in town wanted to get in this theater.
"Crap! I ruined Date Night!!" I said, angry at myself. I was pretty upset, and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I felt like a jerk. He tried to make it seem like it was no big deal, but I could tell he was a little upset about missing the movie. That just made me feel even worse.
That's when I told CN that from now on, he needs to tell me to be ready 30 minutes before we actually need to be somewhere. He agreed, and I apologized for being late. I told him I would take him to see the movie the next day -- my treat. He said ok.
The next morning, we went to church (shock and awe, I know! The Heathen Girl goes to church!) with a couple he knows. They are a really nice couple that are getting ready for their first baby. And thanks to our new time policy, I was right on time! Anyway, we went to a church that is not like mine. It's more......modern and liberal than what I'm used to, so it was an adjustment for me. I sounded like a 5 year old, with all of the questions I asked:
"Why is there a rock band here? Are we going to be on TV? Because there's a lot of TV crew-looking people here. Why are those people raising their arms when they sing? Why isn't anyone doing the readings? When do we get to kneel? What's with the big screen TVs? Why aren't we using our hymnals? I've never seen a church where people are allowed to wear jeans and flip-flops. And where's Jesus? I don't see him anywhere...."
CN just shook his head and chuckled to himself.
The questions actually started the night before, when CN asked me if I wanted to go with him to church. "Ok, sure. What is the proper procedure for when you receive the bread and wine there? I need to know, because I don't drink wine at church. I mean, you know I don't drink alcohol, but it's also because I can't stand the taste of wine. So how would it work if I want to opt out?" I asked.
"Oh, they don't even serve it, so you don't have to worry," he replied.
"I'm sorry....what? No bread or wine? Isn't that like....the whole point? The main scene?" I asked, confused. "Are you teasing me? You're making that up. Of course they serve bread and wine. It's not church without it! Stop pulling my leg!"
CN swore up and down that he was not kidding.
This blew my mind. I have never heard such a thing before. I thought all Christians had bread and wine when they went to church on Sundays. (Can you tell I was raised Catholic?)
So I was pretty interested in seeing exactly what went on at this modern church. It turns out that this particular church only does the bread and grape juice (yeah, no wine at this church -- another thing that blew my mind. "Juice?? WTF??) on the first Sunday of the month. So I got to have my Wonder bread and grape juice. It was very surreal to me. And I had forgotten how yummy grape juice is, so that was a good thing.
I've never been to a church service that wasn't my own denomination before. It was sort of like traveling to Europe: the general idea is the same, but there's little differences between this new place and your home. Some of the differences are cool, some of them make you feel uncomfortable.
We were having breakfast with the other couple after church. On the way to the restaurant, I explained to CN that I'm used to real wine, lots of moving around and a more formal presentation. I told him I was not totally comfortable with his modern church. It didn't feel boring and long like what I'm used to.
Call me crazy, but when I'm at church, I want to be hating it. I want it to feel like church. It's not supposed to be fun, in my mind. I want to get the hell outta there ASAP. I want to wear uncomfortable clothes, watch the same routine service I've watched since I was a kid, get a good serving of guilt, real wine, wafers that stick to the roof of your mouth, some hymns, and then I want to go home and forget about all about church until next Sunday. THAT is church.
He told me he'd never been to a Catholic or an Episcopalian service. I told him he'd better hit the gym before he goes to one, because there's a lot of moving around!
"First you stand, then you sit, then you kneel. Then you sit again, then you stand, then you kneel....sit, stand, kneel, stand, sit, kneel....and you sing a lot," I explained.
"I get the idea. We can go to your church next time, if you want," he replied.
"Um...ok. We might have to go to a new Episcopal church, though, because I haven't been to mine in at least a year, and now I'm too embarrassed to go back," I said.
"So......let me get this straight. You haven't been to any church in a year, and you're telling me that you'd rather go to NO church than one that is different than yours. Right?"
"Exactly! Wow, hon, you're a good listener. You ready for some pancakes?" I asked, as we pulled into the restaurant parking lot. CN rolled his eyes and sighed.
We had breakfast with the other couple, and then went to go see The Mist. I hated it. I almost got up to leave about 3 times. I don't like gory movies, and this was full of it. Plus, the ending SUCKS. I will stop there, in case you haven't seen it yet, but let's just say, I was not impressed.
When we left the theater, CN informed me that we would not be going to the movies a lot.
"But why?? I like going to the movies!" I protested.
"Because you yelled at the screen the whole time! People were staring at us!" he said.
"Oh. Sorry. Was I that loud?" I asked.
"YES!" he said, laughing.
"OMG! Why didn't you tell me to shut up? Did I embarrass you?" I asked.
"No, I thought it was funny. I tried to tell you to be quiet, but you didn't listen. That's why I was grabbing your arm. You ignored it. After that, I just gave up. But you talk too much at the movies. We need to stick to watching them at home from now on."
Oops.
That's kind of good, though, because you can't be late to movies you watch at home. Maybe he's got a good idea here. Plus, I can yell at the tv all I want!
Later on that day, he and I were sitting on my bed. I looked at my room.
"WOW. My room is really messy. I'm a slob. Don't you think I'm a slob, honey?" I said.
CN thought for a minute, then replied, "No. You're just really, really, really bad at putting things away!"
We laughed. I love that he gets me. :)
Monday, October 08, 2007
Overexposed
Time: Yesterday afternoon
Place: Victoria's Secret
Yours truly was taking advantage of their fall sale.
After rummaging around in their totally unorganized bins (SO irritating to look through! What happened to the tables organized by size???), I had an armful of bras to try on. I headed to the dressing room.
Bra after bra was disqualified: too big, too small, too complicated, made my boobs look funny, not supportive enough...etc.
But the last bra....well, that was a different story. It was supportive, easy to put on, relatively comfortable, fit well......and it was dead sexy. A black lace bra, hot enough to put the rest of my bras to shame.
"Hmmm...." I thought, with a sly little smile on my lips. "I know someone who might like to see this...."
And I whipped out my cell phone. I was going to take a little preview pic and send it to CN via the wonders of modern technology.
"Click!" said the camera.
"*Giggle*" said I.
"Send!" said the button.
"Message sent!" said the phone.
I got dressed again and went out to get in line to pay. As I was leaving the store, I realized it had been a few minutes, and I hadn't heard from CN. Not to flatter myself, but I was expecting SOME kind of a reaction.
"Hmmm...maybe his phone isn't equipped to receive pictures, because he must have gotten it..." I thought. "Right???"
Oh.
God.
I quickly fumbled around in my purse, frantically searching for my phone. I grabbed it, opened it up and began looking at my text message history.
"Oh-my-gawd-if-I-sent-that-to-the-wrong-person-I-will-die!!!!" I thought.
WHEW. I sent it to CN and only CN.
So why hadn't he replied or reacted in any way??? I mean, I'm not taking jetty shots in the dressing room for my health! Argh.
I got home and began baking some pumpkin bread for CN's dad (he's sick, remember). I glanced out my kitchen window -- CN's friend The Runner was over at his house. They were probably watching football. By the time I had the pumpkin bread in the oven, The Runner had left.
My phone beeped -- I had a new text message from CN.
"Well, it's about time," I thought.
I opened the message:
"The Runner liked your boobs."
!!!!!
I figured he was kidding, so I told him he was in big trouble for showing the pic to The Runner. A little later, CN came over to get the pumpkin bread, and he filled me in on what had happened.
"Yeah, um, The Runner was helping me get my tv cables all figured out, because we were playing video games, and he was actually sitting RIGHT next to me when you sent that pic to my phone. I took my phone out of my pocket when you sent the pic. So um....he saw it. Kinda...." CN trailed off.
*shock and disbelief on my part*
"WHAT????!!!" I shouted.
"Oh, and I know he saw it, because he took one look at it and asked me: 'Um, do you need me to leave so you can take care of that?' " CN continued.
Oh.
My.
Gawd.
I turned beet red. I will never be able to look The Runner in the eye again. I began wailing at my own bad judgement. Stupid, stupid, stupid VB. Dumb idea. Dumb, dumb, dumb!!!!
"It's ok! Don't be embarrassed! It's not a big deal! Just give me a heads up next time, ok?" CN said, trying to make me feel better. "But hey, would you care if I set my phone so that's the photo that comes up on my phone every time you call me?"
Oh for Pete's sake.....
Place: Victoria's Secret
Yours truly was taking advantage of their fall sale.
After rummaging around in their totally unorganized bins (SO irritating to look through! What happened to the tables organized by size???), I had an armful of bras to try on. I headed to the dressing room.
Bra after bra was disqualified: too big, too small, too complicated, made my boobs look funny, not supportive enough...etc.
But the last bra....well, that was a different story. It was supportive, easy to put on, relatively comfortable, fit well......and it was dead sexy. A black lace bra, hot enough to put the rest of my bras to shame.
"Hmmm...." I thought, with a sly little smile on my lips. "I know someone who might like to see this...."
And I whipped out my cell phone. I was going to take a little preview pic and send it to CN via the wonders of modern technology.
"Click!" said the camera.
"*Giggle*" said I.
"Send!" said the button.
"Message sent!" said the phone.
I got dressed again and went out to get in line to pay. As I was leaving the store, I realized it had been a few minutes, and I hadn't heard from CN. Not to flatter myself, but I was expecting SOME kind of a reaction.
"Hmmm...maybe his phone isn't equipped to receive pictures, because he must have gotten it..." I thought. "Right???"
Oh.
God.
I quickly fumbled around in my purse, frantically searching for my phone. I grabbed it, opened it up and began looking at my text message history.
"Oh-my-gawd-if-I-sent-that-to-the-wrong-person-I-will-die!!!!" I thought.
WHEW. I sent it to CN and only CN.
So why hadn't he replied or reacted in any way??? I mean, I'm not taking jetty shots in the dressing room for my health! Argh.
I got home and began baking some pumpkin bread for CN's dad (he's sick, remember). I glanced out my kitchen window -- CN's friend The Runner was over at his house. They were probably watching football. By the time I had the pumpkin bread in the oven, The Runner had left.
My phone beeped -- I had a new text message from CN.
"Well, it's about time," I thought.
I opened the message:
"The Runner liked your boobs."
!!!!!
I figured he was kidding, so I told him he was in big trouble for showing the pic to The Runner. A little later, CN came over to get the pumpkin bread, and he filled me in on what had happened.
"Yeah, um, The Runner was helping me get my tv cables all figured out, because we were playing video games, and he was actually sitting RIGHT next to me when you sent that pic to my phone. I took my phone out of my pocket when you sent the pic. So um....he saw it. Kinda...." CN trailed off.
*shock and disbelief on my part*
"WHAT????!!!" I shouted.
"Oh, and I know he saw it, because he took one look at it and asked me: 'Um, do you need me to leave so you can take care of that?' " CN continued.
Oh.
My.
Gawd.
I turned beet red. I will never be able to look The Runner in the eye again. I began wailing at my own bad judgement. Stupid, stupid, stupid VB. Dumb idea. Dumb, dumb, dumb!!!!
"It's ok! Don't be embarrassed! It's not a big deal! Just give me a heads up next time, ok?" CN said, trying to make me feel better. "But hey, would you care if I set my phone so that's the photo that comes up on my phone every time you call me?"
Oh for Pete's sake.....
Monday, September 10, 2007
Barf Queen on a Date
"I took 5 of them," she slurred.
Oh boy. When I got home from work on Friday, I opened my front door to find E in the midst of a Vicodin-induced stupor. She had surgery recently, and was in some pain.
"Well, I don't have any plans tonight. You wanna stay in and have a Roomie Bonding Night? We can watch movies and eat popcorn. I could pop a Vicodin and join you!" I said, excitedly.
E nodded enthusiastically. "Yeahyeahyeah."
15 minutes later, we were in our jammies, watching Dirty Love, eating jelly beans and I had downed a Vicodin. A few minutes later, I decided it wasn't working, so I took another one.
[Note: This directly violates Rule #1 of VB's Vicodin Enjoyment: Never take more than one Vicodin. I would soon rue this rule violation.]
So I'm just starting to enjoy myself when there's a knock on the door. It's Cute Neighbor. And I'm buzzed on painkillers. Uh-Oh. Act natural.
He had some friends (a married couple) coming into town for the night and wanted to know if I would care to join them for dinner and pool.
"Sure, I'd love to!" I replied, trying to sound sober, secretly wondering how in the hell I'm going to pull this off.
He said ok, and told me to be ready by 8. Cool. That gave me an hour and a half to get ready. In other words, I would be totally juiced by the time the date started. I shut the door.
"Shitshitshitshitshit!!!" I whispered.
"What? Wassss that CN?" asked E, stumbling over to the front door.
"Dude, I have a date with CN and I'm fucked up. I can't do this," I said, walking past her, to my room.
Have you ever tried to get ready when you're drunk? Because that's what it was like. I don't think it would be an exaggeration to say that this was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Hot rollers? Seemed to require a PhD. Coordinating shoes with my outfit? Required an extremely serious debate between myself and E, lasting about 15 minutes. Zipping up and tying my top, without getting the dreaded white deodorant marks all over the front? Took every ounce of concentration and focus I had in my body. I dropped everything twice. I almost poked my eye out with the eyeliner. And I thought the SATs were hard. I think I asked E about 6 times if my outfit looked ok. Which was stupid, because she was more wacked out than I was.
Oh boy. This was going to be an interesting night.
"E!" I shouted. "I don't know if this is a good idea.....it's still kicking in!"
"No, you should totally go. You have to," she slurred, leaning against the door frame of my room.
"Well, the good thing is, I'm not nervous at all. I feel gooooooooood," I replied.
"See? So you shhhhhould go...." E mumbled before collapsing on the couch. I think she passed out at this point. I don't really know. I was more concerned with remembering how to walk in a straight line.
After double and triple-checking myself in the mirror, I headed over to CN's house across the street. "Don't tell him you're on Vicodin. Don't tell him you're on Vicodin," I mentally repeated to myself.
[Note: When we went tailgating together last weekend, I mentioned how much I loved Vicodin, but emphasized that I do not do it all the time by any wild stretch of the imagination. So I did not want to give the impression that I am addicted to pain killers or something. Because less than a week later, here I am, weaving all over the street, teetering in high heels. Yeesh.]
We drove downtown to meet up with the couple. I think I acted pretty normally. I think....I hope...
By the time we walked to the restaurant, sat down and opened our menus, I was blitzed. I could feel my eyes crossing and my mind wandering.
I ordered a ginger ale in the hopes that it would settle my stomach. No such luck. Before I took a sip of it, I excused myself from the table. Luckily, our table was not too far from the bathroom.
By some miracle, the bathroom was empty. I hurriedly locked the stall door behind me and proceeded to barf. "Shit! I am never taking Vicodin again! I am a total idiot! I can't believe I did this!!! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" I thought as I doubled over, hurling.
Double checking myself, my hair and my clothes in the mirror, I swished my mouth out and popped some gum. I have no idea how long this took, because at this point, I was in Lala Land.
Luckily, no one seemed to notice when I got back to the table. We ordered our food, and I drank my ginger ale and began to feel a little better. Whew, I am in the clear. I attempted to join in on the conversation, and managed to hold my own. I have no earthly clue what we talked about. I don't remember a word of it. I do remember CN flirting with me, and smiling at him, and thinking he was definitely out of TFZ. But that's about it. Most of my thoughts were focused on not falling out of my chair. As if reminding myself to keep my eyelids from shutting halfway wasn't hard enough, the stress and paranoia of being discovered was making me sweat profusely. Oh man. This was not fun. Not fun at all.
Then, the food was served. CN and his buddy had ordered sushi. Which wasn't the best thing for me to see/smell at that point. Feeling woozy, I took a deep breath and focused on eating my own meal. I swallowed the first bite when..........uh oh. Guess what. The ginger ale didn't work. Back to the bathroom I go.
This time, I didn't say anything, but got up and made a beeline to the ladies' room. I almost had to run. Which would have been funny to see, because at this point, my stomach was controlling the rest of my body. I had lost control over my brain, not to mention my appendages. I almost fell on the way. As I barged into the bathroom, throwing the door wide open and staggering around to see if anyone else was in there, I was overjoyed to find that I again had the bathroom all to myself. Yesssss! But I didn't have a lot of time to enjoy this moment: Must. Barf. Now. Unluckily, I didn't make it all the way to the toilet, and managed to barf all over the stall. At least this time, it was just ginger ale and one piece of pasta, so it wasn't very messy. I cleaned it up as best I could and felt a LOT better. I washed up and swished again.
"I am the biggest effing idiot on Earth and possibly throughout all of history. I can't believe I am doing this," I thought. "Oh, gawd, what if I keep barfing every 15 minutes???" I looked in the mirror: no harm done to clothes, makeup or hair. "SCORE! This is the best barf luck I've ever had!" I thought, as I popped another piece of gum.
I rejoined the group, but knew better than to drink or eat anything. Feeling the buzz start to wear off, I began to relax. That is, until I realized: they were on to me. "Um, are you ok? Does your food taste ok? You're not eating," the wife asked me.
I told everyone that I hadn't felt well since lunch, when I had ordered a salad from a local restaurant. I apologized for not feeling so well or eating. "But I'm starting to feel a little better. I just can't eat or drink anything right now," I explained. I received much sympathy. Whew. Big sigh of relief.
After dinner, we crossed the street to go play pool. Who do we run into? Why, MJ and her new guy, VW! I ran up to her.
"Oh thank God you're here! Help me! I'm on a date with CN and I'm fucked up on Vicodin and I can't stop barfing! Do I look ok? Can you tell I'm fucked up? Do I smell like barf? Omg, I barfed at the restaurant -- twice!" I shouted frantically.
"Please tell me you didn't barf at the table," she said, hesitantly.
"Oh, thank goodness, no. I even got the bathroom all to myself!" I replied with glee.
She laughed and reassured me I looked fine and that I appeared normal. Never in my life have I been so happy to run into someone I knew.
The rest of the evening went really, really well. MJ and VW joined our group, and we all had fun playing pool. Towards the end of the night, we all grabbed a table outside and talked. That's when CN and VW began to hit it off -- they were inseparable! "Dude, your date hijacked my date!" I told MJ.
"I know! They are like BFFs!" she answered. We laughed and began to tease the guys about it.
Soon after, CN's friends went back to their hotel and MJ and VW left. This left me and CN alone to talk. And boy, did we talk. We went for at least an hour, solid. Talked for a while at the bar, all the way back to the car (with much teasing from CN about how I am Barf Queen) and all the way home. Then, we sat in his driveway and talked some more. We exchanged phone numbers and myspace URLs. There was mucho chemistry and CN is most definitely out of TFZ. Yay!
And no, nothing happened, Noseypants.
We made plans to hang out the next day and watch a movie. But by the time I was done with everything I had to do on Saturday, it was almost time for the USC game to start, so we watched the first half of that instead.
Nothing happened on Saturday, either. But it was his fault -- he sat on the easy chair, while I sat on the couch all by myself. So much for couch snuggling.
He was probably afraid I would barf on him...
Oh boy. When I got home from work on Friday, I opened my front door to find E in the midst of a Vicodin-induced stupor. She had surgery recently, and was in some pain.
"Well, I don't have any plans tonight. You wanna stay in and have a Roomie Bonding Night? We can watch movies and eat popcorn. I could pop a Vicodin and join you!" I said, excitedly.
E nodded enthusiastically. "Yeahyeahyeah."
15 minutes later, we were in our jammies, watching Dirty Love, eating jelly beans and I had downed a Vicodin. A few minutes later, I decided it wasn't working, so I took another one.
[Note: This directly violates Rule #1 of VB's Vicodin Enjoyment: Never take more than one Vicodin. I would soon rue this rule violation.]
So I'm just starting to enjoy myself when there's a knock on the door. It's Cute Neighbor. And I'm buzzed on painkillers. Uh-Oh. Act natural.
He had some friends (a married couple) coming into town for the night and wanted to know if I would care to join them for dinner and pool.
"Sure, I'd love to!" I replied, trying to sound sober, secretly wondering how in the hell I'm going to pull this off.
He said ok, and told me to be ready by 8. Cool. That gave me an hour and a half to get ready. In other words, I would be totally juiced by the time the date started. I shut the door.
"Shitshitshitshitshit!!!" I whispered.
"What? Wassss that CN?" asked E, stumbling over to the front door.
"Dude, I have a date with CN and I'm fucked up. I can't do this," I said, walking past her, to my room.
Have you ever tried to get ready when you're drunk? Because that's what it was like. I don't think it would be an exaggeration to say that this was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Hot rollers? Seemed to require a PhD. Coordinating shoes with my outfit? Required an extremely serious debate between myself and E, lasting about 15 minutes. Zipping up and tying my top, without getting the dreaded white deodorant marks all over the front? Took every ounce of concentration and focus I had in my body. I dropped everything twice. I almost poked my eye out with the eyeliner. And I thought the SATs were hard. I think I asked E about 6 times if my outfit looked ok. Which was stupid, because she was more wacked out than I was.
Oh boy. This was going to be an interesting night.
"E!" I shouted. "I don't know if this is a good idea.....it's still kicking in!"
"No, you should totally go. You have to," she slurred, leaning against the door frame of my room.
"Well, the good thing is, I'm not nervous at all. I feel gooooooooood," I replied.
"See? So you shhhhhould go...." E mumbled before collapsing on the couch. I think she passed out at this point. I don't really know. I was more concerned with remembering how to walk in a straight line.
After double and triple-checking myself in the mirror, I headed over to CN's house across the street. "Don't tell him you're on Vicodin. Don't tell him you're on Vicodin," I mentally repeated to myself.
[Note: When we went tailgating together last weekend, I mentioned how much I loved Vicodin, but emphasized that I do not do it all the time by any wild stretch of the imagination. So I did not want to give the impression that I am addicted to pain killers or something. Because less than a week later, here I am, weaving all over the street, teetering in high heels. Yeesh.]
We drove downtown to meet up with the couple. I think I acted pretty normally. I think....I hope...
By the time we walked to the restaurant, sat down and opened our menus, I was blitzed. I could feel my eyes crossing and my mind wandering.
I ordered a ginger ale in the hopes that it would settle my stomach. No such luck. Before I took a sip of it, I excused myself from the table. Luckily, our table was not too far from the bathroom.
By some miracle, the bathroom was empty. I hurriedly locked the stall door behind me and proceeded to barf. "Shit! I am never taking Vicodin again! I am a total idiot! I can't believe I did this!!! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" I thought as I doubled over, hurling.
Double checking myself, my hair and my clothes in the mirror, I swished my mouth out and popped some gum. I have no idea how long this took, because at this point, I was in Lala Land.
Luckily, no one seemed to notice when I got back to the table. We ordered our food, and I drank my ginger ale and began to feel a little better. Whew, I am in the clear. I attempted to join in on the conversation, and managed to hold my own. I have no earthly clue what we talked about. I don't remember a word of it. I do remember CN flirting with me, and smiling at him, and thinking he was definitely out of TFZ. But that's about it. Most of my thoughts were focused on not falling out of my chair. As if reminding myself to keep my eyelids from shutting halfway wasn't hard enough, the stress and paranoia of being discovered was making me sweat profusely. Oh man. This was not fun. Not fun at all.
Then, the food was served. CN and his buddy had ordered sushi. Which wasn't the best thing for me to see/smell at that point. Feeling woozy, I took a deep breath and focused on eating my own meal. I swallowed the first bite when..........uh oh. Guess what. The ginger ale didn't work. Back to the bathroom I go.
This time, I didn't say anything, but got up and made a beeline to the ladies' room. I almost had to run. Which would have been funny to see, because at this point, my stomach was controlling the rest of my body. I had lost control over my brain, not to mention my appendages. I almost fell on the way. As I barged into the bathroom, throwing the door wide open and staggering around to see if anyone else was in there, I was overjoyed to find that I again had the bathroom all to myself. Yesssss! But I didn't have a lot of time to enjoy this moment: Must. Barf. Now. Unluckily, I didn't make it all the way to the toilet, and managed to barf all over the stall. At least this time, it was just ginger ale and one piece of pasta, so it wasn't very messy. I cleaned it up as best I could and felt a LOT better. I washed up and swished again.
"I am the biggest effing idiot on Earth and possibly throughout all of history. I can't believe I am doing this," I thought. "Oh, gawd, what if I keep barfing every 15 minutes???" I looked in the mirror: no harm done to clothes, makeup or hair. "SCORE! This is the best barf luck I've ever had!" I thought, as I popped another piece of gum.
I rejoined the group, but knew better than to drink or eat anything. Feeling the buzz start to wear off, I began to relax. That is, until I realized: they were on to me. "Um, are you ok? Does your food taste ok? You're not eating," the wife asked me.
I told everyone that I hadn't felt well since lunch, when I had ordered a salad from a local restaurant. I apologized for not feeling so well or eating. "But I'm starting to feel a little better. I just can't eat or drink anything right now," I explained. I received much sympathy. Whew. Big sigh of relief.
After dinner, we crossed the street to go play pool. Who do we run into? Why, MJ and her new guy, VW! I ran up to her.
"Oh thank God you're here! Help me! I'm on a date with CN and I'm fucked up on Vicodin and I can't stop barfing! Do I look ok? Can you tell I'm fucked up? Do I smell like barf? Omg, I barfed at the restaurant -- twice!" I shouted frantically.
"Please tell me you didn't barf at the table," she said, hesitantly.
"Oh, thank goodness, no. I even got the bathroom all to myself!" I replied with glee.
She laughed and reassured me I looked fine and that I appeared normal. Never in my life have I been so happy to run into someone I knew.
The rest of the evening went really, really well. MJ and VW joined our group, and we all had fun playing pool. Towards the end of the night, we all grabbed a table outside and talked. That's when CN and VW began to hit it off -- they were inseparable! "Dude, your date hijacked my date!" I told MJ.
"I know! They are like BFFs!" she answered. We laughed and began to tease the guys about it.
Soon after, CN's friends went back to their hotel and MJ and VW left. This left me and CN alone to talk. And boy, did we talk. We went for at least an hour, solid. Talked for a while at the bar, all the way back to the car (with much teasing from CN about how I am Barf Queen) and all the way home. Then, we sat in his driveway and talked some more. We exchanged phone numbers and myspace URLs. There was mucho chemistry and CN is most definitely out of TFZ. Yay!
And no, nothing happened, Noseypants.
We made plans to hang out the next day and watch a movie. But by the time I was done with everything I had to do on Saturday, it was almost time for the USC game to start, so we watched the first half of that instead.
Nothing happened on Saturday, either. But it was his fault -- he sat on the easy chair, while I sat on the couch all by myself. So much for couch snuggling.
He was probably afraid I would barf on him...
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Tailgating
I left off with the Man Buffet that is Copper River on a Thursday night. W, YB and his buddies were with me. I would like to say that something cool happened, but...
1. We all know how non-existant and pathetic my dating life is. Let's not kid ourselves.
2. YB's buddies were successful in totally cockblocking me for the evening.
It would have been great if YB's buddies were hot or super fun, but they were only average in these areas. Oh well. At least they weren't stupid, annoying or drunk. W and YB invited me to tailgate the next day, and they told me to bring whomever. After about an hour, I was bored with talking to YB's buddies, so I went home. The End.
Yeah, I know. Totally lame. But it gets better.
On Friday evening, I was planning on going over to Cute Neighbor's house to invite him to go tailgating with me the next day. He wasn't home. So, I left a short note, telling him I'd be leaving around 3pm for the game.
Saturday, I ran a couple of errands and baked cheesecake for B's birthday. By 2pm, I had called all my friends to tell them that I was not going tailgating. (I hate driving down there and parking all by myself. It's no fun to do that alone. Since I'd given up on CN, and everyone else was already on their way down there, I gave up.) I continued puttering around my house. All my other friends already had plans, so I was resigned to spending the night on my couch, watching a movie with my dogs. No big deal.
At 3pm sharp, Cute Neighbor knocks on my door. He wants to know if I'm still going tailgating. EEK! Excitement and dread fill me: I am sweaty and disheveled from cleaning my house. My hair is dirty. Great.
"Uh, sure. Can I get ready really quickly, though?" I asked.
"Sure. Just come over when you're ready," he replied.
I took the quickest shower in history, threw my hair into a ponytail and refreshed my makeup. About 20 minutes later, I was ready to go, wearing my USC Gamecocks tshirt. We got in my car, and I gave him music selection duties. "You have really good taste in music," he said as he browsed through my CDs.
"Take THAT, Stuckey!" I thought. (Stuckey loves to tell me I have bad taste in music.)
Luckily, I remembered that I had to hit the ATM and get some cash for parking. Unluckily, I did not know that ATM cards have expiration dates on them, and mine expired two months ago. Shit. So that's why my bank sent me that new card....which I stuck somewhere.....note to self: find new ATM card.
I got back in the car and explained my little problem to him. He said he would pay for parking. I was kind of embarrassed, but he seemed totally ok with it. Whew. We made our way through the stadium traffic. Slowly.
For the next hour and a half, he and I talked and talked and talked. I feel very at ease around him, which is good. I didn't feel shy or very nervous at all. Whew. It was a nice relief. We talked about music, our families, our jobs and how we deal with stress. We even talked about our hobbies and our neighbors. Never at any point did we discuss my telephone number or going on a date. Great.
We finally found a parking spot, approximately 400 miles from where we needed to be. As we talked and walked, I was almost hit by a truck. How close? Let's just say they were honking at me. Oops. Between the ATM and playing in traffic, I was coming off as a total dingbat. I guess you can take away my blonde hair, but you cannot take the blonde out of me!
After 2 hours of travel time, we finally arrived at our destination. W, YB and his buddies from the night before greeted us. We had a pretty good time, talking and laughing and munching on goodies as we watched the game. The weather was great, too. The Gamecocks won, which was a nice end to the day.
Unfortunately, the only fireworks going on were over at the stadium endzones.
He's a super sweet guy, and he's really easy to hang out with, because he's so laid back. And we have quite a few things in common. But that is not enough for me. I have gotten the impression that he's a homebody, which doesn't mesh well with my social butterfly lifestyle. He had 8 hours to ask me out or get my number, and he didn't. There was a noticeable lack of flirtatious banter, which I really need to stay interested in a guy. Throw in the fact that he might be taking a job 2 hours away, and he's almost in that dreaded place that men hate: The Friend Zone.
1. We all know how non-existant and pathetic my dating life is. Let's not kid ourselves.
2. YB's buddies were successful in totally cockblocking me for the evening.
It would have been great if YB's buddies were hot or super fun, but they were only average in these areas. Oh well. At least they weren't stupid, annoying or drunk. W and YB invited me to tailgate the next day, and they told me to bring whomever. After about an hour, I was bored with talking to YB's buddies, so I went home. The End.
Yeah, I know. Totally lame. But it gets better.
On Friday evening, I was planning on going over to Cute Neighbor's house to invite him to go tailgating with me the next day. He wasn't home. So, I left a short note, telling him I'd be leaving around 3pm for the game.
Saturday, I ran a couple of errands and baked cheesecake for B's birthday. By 2pm, I had called all my friends to tell them that I was not going tailgating. (I hate driving down there and parking all by myself. It's no fun to do that alone. Since I'd given up on CN, and everyone else was already on their way down there, I gave up.) I continued puttering around my house. All my other friends already had plans, so I was resigned to spending the night on my couch, watching a movie with my dogs. No big deal.
At 3pm sharp, Cute Neighbor knocks on my door. He wants to know if I'm still going tailgating. EEK! Excitement and dread fill me: I am sweaty and disheveled from cleaning my house. My hair is dirty. Great.
"Uh, sure. Can I get ready really quickly, though?" I asked.
"Sure. Just come over when you're ready," he replied.
I took the quickest shower in history, threw my hair into a ponytail and refreshed my makeup. About 20 minutes later, I was ready to go, wearing my USC Gamecocks tshirt. We got in my car, and I gave him music selection duties. "You have really good taste in music," he said as he browsed through my CDs.
"Take THAT, Stuckey!" I thought. (Stuckey loves to tell me I have bad taste in music.)
Luckily, I remembered that I had to hit the ATM and get some cash for parking. Unluckily, I did not know that ATM cards have expiration dates on them, and mine expired two months ago. Shit. So that's why my bank sent me that new card....which I stuck somewhere.....note to self: find new ATM card.
I got back in the car and explained my little problem to him. He said he would pay for parking. I was kind of embarrassed, but he seemed totally ok with it. Whew. We made our way through the stadium traffic. Slowly.
For the next hour and a half, he and I talked and talked and talked. I feel very at ease around him, which is good. I didn't feel shy or very nervous at all. Whew. It was a nice relief. We talked about music, our families, our jobs and how we deal with stress. We even talked about our hobbies and our neighbors. Never at any point did we discuss my telephone number or going on a date. Great.
We finally found a parking spot, approximately 400 miles from where we needed to be. As we talked and walked, I was almost hit by a truck. How close? Let's just say they were honking at me. Oops. Between the ATM and playing in traffic, I was coming off as a total dingbat. I guess you can take away my blonde hair, but you cannot take the blonde out of me!
After 2 hours of travel time, we finally arrived at our destination. W, YB and his buddies from the night before greeted us. We had a pretty good time, talking and laughing and munching on goodies as we watched the game. The weather was great, too. The Gamecocks won, which was a nice end to the day.
Unfortunately, the only fireworks going on were over at the stadium endzones.
He's a super sweet guy, and he's really easy to hang out with, because he's so laid back. And we have quite a few things in common. But that is not enough for me. I have gotten the impression that he's a homebody, which doesn't mesh well with my social butterfly lifestyle. He had 8 hours to ask me out or get my number, and he didn't. There was a noticeable lack of flirtatious banter, which I really need to stay interested in a guy. Throw in the fact that he might be taking a job 2 hours away, and he's almost in that dreaded place that men hate: The Friend Zone.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
P.S. to Part 5
I just needed to add on a couple of things to MJ's most recent post (Part 5 of our trip to NYC & VT). So this will be short. If you haven't read her post, this won't make any sense to you. But it's important for you to know about these, so you can see just how ridiculous and hopeless I am.
The morning we left NYC for Vermont, I decided to travel in comfort, and wore a flimsy black skirt. We loaded ourselves down with suitcases and walked a few blocks to the subway station. It was kind of a breezy morning. I was following MJ & KT into a large intersection. This is when I learned a very important lesson about NYC:
Large intersections in NYC tend to be very breezy, so keep a hand free to hold your skirt down.
Of course, my hands were full of stuff, and so I was totally helpless when my skirt completely blew up, exposing my undies to the entire busy intersection. Great. This would only happen to me. I think approximately 563 people knew what kind of underwear I had on that day. Awesome.
Then we went down to the subway, where I learned another important lesson about traveling in NYC:
If you are carrying a suitcase on wheels through the subway turnstyle, PICK IT UP before you go through.
Still following MJ & KT, we got our subway cards and started to lug ourselves and our stuff through the turnstyles. MJ went through. KT went through. I got stuck. Somehow, I managed to get the handle of my suitcase wrapped around the turnstyle bar. Which was not moving, because I'd already swiped my ticket. And since we had all bought single-ride tickets, my ticket was now useless -- I'd already swiped it. I couldn't just hop back over the turnstyle and buy a new ticket, either--the turnstyles are very tall and designed to prevent people from jumping over them. I was in limbo -- neither forward nor backward could I go. I began to panic, because it was time to board the train and Rocky was going to shoot us if we were late, and I would be forced to spend the rest of my trip, crying, stuck in the subway turnstyle.
I look up, and MJ and KT have realized what is going on. They are struggling with the subway doors, getting yelled at for holding up the train. "Come on! What's wrong? Hurry up!" they yelled. "I can't ! I'm stuck!" I shouted back. Seeing that I was hopelessly stuck, they gave up, grabbed their stuff and hopped off. KT dropped something right as the doors were closing. That's when a nice lady on the subway tossed it to her right in the nick of time. (It was pretty cool, actually. Kind of like something from a movie. They had one chance and a 2 second moment to do it.)
Somehow, MJ untangled me. I still don't know how she got me unstuck, because I was lodged in there pretty good. She still doesn't know how I managed to get stuck in the first place. Again, something only I would do.
So just remember that turnstyles are not suitcase friendly. Pick up your suitcases, folks. And keep that hand free to hold down your skirt. Unless you're the kind of person who likes flashing busy intersections full of strangers.
The morning we left NYC for Vermont, I decided to travel in comfort, and wore a flimsy black skirt. We loaded ourselves down with suitcases and walked a few blocks to the subway station. It was kind of a breezy morning. I was following MJ & KT into a large intersection. This is when I learned a very important lesson about NYC:
Large intersections in NYC tend to be very breezy, so keep a hand free to hold your skirt down.
Of course, my hands were full of stuff, and so I was totally helpless when my skirt completely blew up, exposing my undies to the entire busy intersection. Great. This would only happen to me. I think approximately 563 people knew what kind of underwear I had on that day. Awesome.
Then we went down to the subway, where I learned another important lesson about traveling in NYC:
If you are carrying a suitcase on wheels through the subway turnstyle, PICK IT UP before you go through.
Still following MJ & KT, we got our subway cards and started to lug ourselves and our stuff through the turnstyles. MJ went through. KT went through. I got stuck. Somehow, I managed to get the handle of my suitcase wrapped around the turnstyle bar. Which was not moving, because I'd already swiped my ticket. And since we had all bought single-ride tickets, my ticket was now useless -- I'd already swiped it. I couldn't just hop back over the turnstyle and buy a new ticket, either--the turnstyles are very tall and designed to prevent people from jumping over them. I was in limbo -- neither forward nor backward could I go. I began to panic, because it was time to board the train and Rocky was going to shoot us if we were late, and I would be forced to spend the rest of my trip, crying, stuck in the subway turnstyle.
I look up, and MJ and KT have realized what is going on. They are struggling with the subway doors, getting yelled at for holding up the train. "Come on! What's wrong? Hurry up!" they yelled. "I can't ! I'm stuck!" I shouted back. Seeing that I was hopelessly stuck, they gave up, grabbed their stuff and hopped off. KT dropped something right as the doors were closing. That's when a nice lady on the subway tossed it to her right in the nick of time. (It was pretty cool, actually. Kind of like something from a movie. They had one chance and a 2 second moment to do it.)
Somehow, MJ untangled me. I still don't know how she got me unstuck, because I was lodged in there pretty good. She still doesn't know how I managed to get stuck in the first place. Again, something only I would do.
So just remember that turnstyles are not suitcase friendly. Pick up your suitcases, folks. And keep that hand free to hold down your skirt. Unless you're the kind of person who likes flashing busy intersections full of strangers.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
NYC Trip, cont.
Um, I think this is part 4, but I'm not sure. The last installment is at MJ's though.
One thing MJ and I forgot to share was our token NYC Homeless Person moment. [Note: The taste of this post is in some question. I realize this isn't much different than most of my posts, but if you have a weak stomach or are easily offended, you might want to skip this part. Then again, if you are like that, why are you reading my blog? But I digress.]
MJ and I were waiting outside of a vitamin store while KT went inside to buy some dietary supplements or something. We were still drinking our coffee, I think, when a homeless woman walked up to us.
She had dried snot all over her face, and asked us--actually, it was more of a slurred request-- for money. It was pretty obvious she would use any donated cash for large quantities of alcohol or illegal drug purchases, so we said no. The homeless lady continued on down the street, veering all over the sidewalk. I went back to talking to MJ.
A few seconds later, MJ poked me in the arm, pointed in the direction of the homeless lady, and said, "Look!"
Dumbass that I am, I fell for it. I turned to look over my shoulder to see the homeless woman's ass. All of it. She was scratching it as she walked down the street. Then she yanked her pants back up.
After sarcastically thanking MJ for pointing that out to me, we continued on our way (I believe we were on our way to the Empire State Building??) with KT in tow. As we walked, MJ related a story that Rocky had told her about another homeless woman in NYC.
Apparently, Rocky had seen a homeless woman peeing in an alley or something, and he had been amazed at her technique. As most women know, peeing while standing up, for a woman, means you end up peeing all over yourself. So this little story will actually serve as a PSA for women without toilets everywhere. Keep this in mind for the next time you go camping, girls.
According to Rocky, this woman grabbed her ankles while peeing, causing her flow to project behind her in a totally horizontal way. Not only is horizontal pee apparently something amazing to behold, it's also a very effective way to avoid peeing on yourself.
I am not telling you this to gross you out. It plays a role in the Tale of Our Trip later on, I swear.
Alright, so where did MJ leave off? Oh yes, we met up with Rocky down near Ground Zero to give him his keys. Century 21 was a total zoo. Then we went to Canal Street for some shopping.
I was looking for this, or something similar (big, with a slouchy middle) only in a knock-off version. I found one, but the zipper didn't work. [Insert small cry here.]
After much hemming and hawing, I decided to get this one, since it looked like "me":
Ah, I'm a sucker for metallic leather....anyway, it's supposedly a Tod's knockoff, although I'm unable to find any image of an "official" Tod's bag looking even remotely similar to mine. In any case, it doesn't matter, because I love it.
Exhausted from shopping and walking all day, we headed back to Rocky's (via my favorite, the NYC Subway!!!) to meet up with him and his roommates for dinner. By the time the 6 of us were ready to go, we were starved. As we walked around Greenwich Village, searching for a good place to eat (translation: one on which we can all agree!), KT suddenly shrieked:
"PINKPUSSYCAT!!PINKPUSSYCAT!!PINKPUSSYCAT!!"
(See? I told you this post was in poor taste. Gah, I don't even want to think about the terms that will pop up on my statcounter now....*shudders*)
It turns out that KT loves this adult novelty store called The Pink Pussycat. We were saddened to see that it was closed, but we took a photo in front of it anyway. The guys stood and watched us get excited about this adult toy store. They were confused by our excitement over such a place. Huh? Were they serious? Men, lovers of all things sexual, didn't see what the big deal was about a sex store??? After some prying on our parts, it was determined that they did not realize there were items for them inside these places, and thought we liked the fuzzy bedroom slippers or something.
Um, not hardly. We decided to educate the guys about the joys of sex toy stores over dinner. They had almost no experience with sex toy/porn stores AT. ALL.
(File this under "Things I Did Not Know About Men"!)
Still starving, we needed to pick a place to eat. We decided to go to Tio Pepe's, a Spanish-Mexican place nearby. (Correct me if I'm wrong, MJ, but I think you can see our round table in the foreground of the first picture!) Everyone (but me, obviously) enjoyed their sangria and beer while we waited for our nacho appetizer.
Our $8 nacho appetizer.
Which had a grand total of 6 nachos on it.
"Good thing we're not hungry!" someone joked.
2 seconds later, those were gone. Feeling the pinch in my wallet at this point, I decided to order an appetizer for my meal to save money. "I'm on a diet, anyway, so it will be good if it's a smaller portion," I thought.
I got the most measly excuse for a quesadilla I've ever seen in my life. It was delicious, don't get me wrong. But the portion size? It wouldn't keep a mouse alive. Apparently in NYC, appetizers are far different from meals. They are called "tapas", which is Spanish for "you will starve". Unlike in SC, where "appetizer" means "a large, cheaper and possibly deep fried meal, disguised by a fancy name".
"Note to self," I thought.
To my left, MJ & KT were enjoying their gigantic, steaming bowls of $20 paella. "We're going to need to-go boxes," they told the waiter. "Dammit!" I thought. Oh well.
We headed back to Rocky's apartment to get ready to go out. Since there were 3 girls and only one bathroom, MJ decided to entertain herself with the xBox while I got ready. She found some strange Burger King game, and began playing it.
Little did she and I know that within a matter of seconds, we'd need many kleenex to sop up our tears of laughter. The game is a total riot. I made the mistake of watching her play while I brushed my teeth and almost snorted my Colgate. I wish I could show you all of the funny things MJ made The King do (like running around in tiny circles very VERY quickly), but I can't. So this video will have to suffice.
MJ and I want to buy an xBox now, JUST so we can play that game. I have rarely laughed so hard in my life.
Once we were all ready, we grabbed a cab and headed to....uh, Chinatown, I think. Or near it, anyway. All I know is, the street garbage was no longer magical to me. Now, it was magically revolting. I almost hurled twice, just walking around. I was so relieved when the guys led us into a bar.
Oh. Right back out again. Apparently, that bar was "dead". Kind of like the fish carcasses again surrounding me in the streets of Chinatown. I think the next bar was called Happy Endings. (I think that's the one with the bar in front and strip club in back???) Surprisingly, it was dead, too. Back outside. We did this about 3 more times until we found a packed place: Piano's. We immediately went upstairs, where there was a dj and a dancefloor.
Although it was too loud to do much talking, we still had a good time, dancing and goofing around. That is, until MJ said, "Uh oh. Those creepy guys are staring at us."
"I know," I replied.
"And we can't make eye contact with them, because then they will come over," she said. I nodded in agreement.
Luckily, Rocky showed up just as we were having this discussion. MJ informed him of our problem. Rocky turns to me and says, "Make out with me."
"Huh?" I asked.
"Just make out with me!" he said.
"Ok," I blurted, surprising myself at how easily I agreed to this idea. (Inner Slut???)
Unfortunately, my mouth made the decision without consulting my brain. My poor brain was caught totally off-guard and so was unable to send the "kiss the guy" command to my mouth. The only command it sent was, "Whaaaaaaa???" So instead of a mildly awkward and spontaneous make-out session between friends, it ended up being an extremely awkward, train wreck of a make-out session between friends. Like, I was 12 again, and didn't know what to do with my tongue. Or his tongue. And all I could manage to do was open my mouth and just sort of.....drool.
Oh. God.
I wanted a re-do, to be perfectly honest. I mean, usually I have a heads up and time to prepare. I swear to God, I know how to kiss! I'm a good kisser! That wasn't me!! That was....oh, God, I don't know what that was. That was possibly my worst, most awkward moment EVER. I was pretty much mortified.
But it worked. The creepy guys left. So, good call on Rocky's part. I guess I just needed a warm up or something.
It was one of those things where you'd give ANYTHING for it to be your little secret. But it's impossible, because you weren't the only person involved. And your friends saw it go down, too.
I had a hard time looking Rocky in the face for the rest of the trip, actually.
Ugh. Can we move on now? Thanks.
After partying there for a while, we left and went to another bar, next door to Rocky's apartment. MJ went to bed, but the rest of us stayed up and sang our group's unofficial theme song: "Don't Stop Believing" -- by Journey. Then Rocky and his roommate tried to find me a guy. They made some poor guy from Romania (I think?) talk to me. As if my night hadn't been awkward enough. He was cute, though, I gotta say. I think his name was Lothar or something equally unusual. Big, tall blonde guy. Mmmm. I like blondes. After some awkward small talk, he left. I turned to Rocky and his roommate.
"Thanks, guys, but I'm ok right now," I said.
"I'm just trying to help you get laid!" said Rocky.
"If you wanted to help me get some, you should have invited The Magician!" I said.
"Oh, he's in Maine," Rocky informed me.
*sigh*
Soon after that, we all went to bed. We had to be up early the next morning to catch a train. The NYC portion of our vacation was almost over. We were going to Vermont for the weekend, where we'd be meeting up with the rest of The Rat Pack.
Stay tuned, readers. Our next installment will use the following phrases:
"OMG! I'm a girl!"
"The Museum of Circles"
"road trip with Hitler"
"grab your ankles!"
and of course,
"Hey, Ahty, wanna go play some stickbawl?"
MJ, it's all you, girl.
One thing MJ and I forgot to share was our token NYC Homeless Person moment. [Note: The taste of this post is in some question. I realize this isn't much different than most of my posts, but if you have a weak stomach or are easily offended, you might want to skip this part. Then again, if you are like that, why are you reading my blog? But I digress.]
MJ and I were waiting outside of a vitamin store while KT went inside to buy some dietary supplements or something. We were still drinking our coffee, I think, when a homeless woman walked up to us.
She had dried snot all over her face, and asked us--actually, it was more of a slurred request-- for money. It was pretty obvious she would use any donated cash for large quantities of alcohol or illegal drug purchases, so we said no. The homeless lady continued on down the street, veering all over the sidewalk. I went back to talking to MJ.
A few seconds later, MJ poked me in the arm, pointed in the direction of the homeless lady, and said, "Look!"
Dumbass that I am, I fell for it. I turned to look over my shoulder to see the homeless woman's ass. All of it. She was scratching it as she walked down the street. Then she yanked her pants back up.
After sarcastically thanking MJ for pointing that out to me, we continued on our way (I believe we were on our way to the Empire State Building??) with KT in tow. As we walked, MJ related a story that Rocky had told her about another homeless woman in NYC.
Apparently, Rocky had seen a homeless woman peeing in an alley or something, and he had been amazed at her technique. As most women know, peeing while standing up, for a woman, means you end up peeing all over yourself. So this little story will actually serve as a PSA for women without toilets everywhere. Keep this in mind for the next time you go camping, girls.
According to Rocky, this woman grabbed her ankles while peeing, causing her flow to project behind her in a totally horizontal way. Not only is horizontal pee apparently something amazing to behold, it's also a very effective way to avoid peeing on yourself.
I am not telling you this to gross you out. It plays a role in the Tale of Our Trip later on, I swear.
Alright, so where did MJ leave off? Oh yes, we met up with Rocky down near Ground Zero to give him his keys. Century 21 was a total zoo. Then we went to Canal Street for some shopping.
I was looking for this, or something similar (big, with a slouchy middle) only in a knock-off version. I found one, but the zipper didn't work. [Insert small cry here.]
After much hemming and hawing, I decided to get this one, since it looked like "me":
Ah, I'm a sucker for metallic leather....anyway, it's supposedly a Tod's knockoff, although I'm unable to find any image of an "official" Tod's bag looking even remotely similar to mine. In any case, it doesn't matter, because I love it.
Exhausted from shopping and walking all day, we headed back to Rocky's (via my favorite, the NYC Subway!!!) to meet up with him and his roommates for dinner. By the time the 6 of us were ready to go, we were starved. As we walked around Greenwich Village, searching for a good place to eat (translation: one on which we can all agree!), KT suddenly shrieked:
"PINKPUSSYCAT!!PINKPUSSYCAT!!PINKPUSSYCAT!!"
(See? I told you this post was in poor taste. Gah, I don't even want to think about the terms that will pop up on my statcounter now....*shudders*)
It turns out that KT loves this adult novelty store called The Pink Pussycat. We were saddened to see that it was closed, but we took a photo in front of it anyway. The guys stood and watched us get excited about this adult toy store. They were confused by our excitement over such a place. Huh? Were they serious? Men, lovers of all things sexual, didn't see what the big deal was about a sex store??? After some prying on our parts, it was determined that they did not realize there were items for them inside these places, and thought we liked the fuzzy bedroom slippers or something.
Um, not hardly. We decided to educate the guys about the joys of sex toy stores over dinner. They had almost no experience with sex toy/porn stores AT. ALL.
(File this under "Things I Did Not Know About Men"!)
Still starving, we needed to pick a place to eat. We decided to go to Tio Pepe's, a Spanish-Mexican place nearby. (Correct me if I'm wrong, MJ, but I think you can see our round table in the foreground of the first picture!) Everyone (but me, obviously) enjoyed their sangria and beer while we waited for our nacho appetizer.
Our $8 nacho appetizer.
Which had a grand total of 6 nachos on it.
"Good thing we're not hungry!" someone joked.
2 seconds later, those were gone. Feeling the pinch in my wallet at this point, I decided to order an appetizer for my meal to save money. "I'm on a diet, anyway, so it will be good if it's a smaller portion," I thought.
I got the most measly excuse for a quesadilla I've ever seen in my life. It was delicious, don't get me wrong. But the portion size? It wouldn't keep a mouse alive. Apparently in NYC, appetizers are far different from meals. They are called "tapas", which is Spanish for "you will starve". Unlike in SC, where "appetizer" means "a large, cheaper and possibly deep fried meal, disguised by a fancy name".
"Note to self," I thought.
To my left, MJ & KT were enjoying their gigantic, steaming bowls of $20 paella. "We're going to need to-go boxes," they told the waiter. "Dammit!" I thought. Oh well.
We headed back to Rocky's apartment to get ready to go out. Since there were 3 girls and only one bathroom, MJ decided to entertain herself with the xBox while I got ready. She found some strange Burger King game, and began playing it.
Little did she and I know that within a matter of seconds, we'd need many kleenex to sop up our tears of laughter. The game is a total riot. I made the mistake of watching her play while I brushed my teeth and almost snorted my Colgate. I wish I could show you all of the funny things MJ made The King do (like running around in tiny circles very VERY quickly), but I can't. So this video will have to suffice.
MJ and I want to buy an xBox now, JUST so we can play that game. I have rarely laughed so hard in my life.
Once we were all ready, we grabbed a cab and headed to....uh, Chinatown, I think. Or near it, anyway. All I know is, the street garbage was no longer magical to me. Now, it was magically revolting. I almost hurled twice, just walking around. I was so relieved when the guys led us into a bar.
Oh. Right back out again. Apparently, that bar was "dead". Kind of like the fish carcasses again surrounding me in the streets of Chinatown. I think the next bar was called Happy Endings. (I think that's the one with the bar in front and strip club in back???) Surprisingly, it was dead, too. Back outside. We did this about 3 more times until we found a packed place: Piano's. We immediately went upstairs, where there was a dj and a dancefloor.
Although it was too loud to do much talking, we still had a good time, dancing and goofing around. That is, until MJ said, "Uh oh. Those creepy guys are staring at us."
"I know," I replied.
"And we can't make eye contact with them, because then they will come over," she said. I nodded in agreement.
Luckily, Rocky showed up just as we were having this discussion. MJ informed him of our problem. Rocky turns to me and says, "Make out with me."
"Huh?" I asked.
"Just make out with me!" he said.
"Ok," I blurted, surprising myself at how easily I agreed to this idea. (Inner Slut???)
Unfortunately, my mouth made the decision without consulting my brain. My poor brain was caught totally off-guard and so was unable to send the "kiss the guy" command to my mouth. The only command it sent was, "Whaaaaaaa???" So instead of a mildly awkward and spontaneous make-out session between friends, it ended up being an extremely awkward, train wreck of a make-out session between friends. Like, I was 12 again, and didn't know what to do with my tongue. Or his tongue. And all I could manage to do was open my mouth and just sort of.....drool.
Oh. God.
I wanted a re-do, to be perfectly honest. I mean, usually I have a heads up and time to prepare. I swear to God, I know how to kiss! I'm a good kisser! That wasn't me!! That was....oh, God, I don't know what that was. That was possibly my worst, most awkward moment EVER. I was pretty much mortified.
But it worked. The creepy guys left. So, good call on Rocky's part. I guess I just needed a warm up or something.
It was one of those things where you'd give ANYTHING for it to be your little secret. But it's impossible, because you weren't the only person involved. And your friends saw it go down, too.
I had a hard time looking Rocky in the face for the rest of the trip, actually.
Ugh. Can we move on now? Thanks.
After partying there for a while, we left and went to another bar, next door to Rocky's apartment. MJ went to bed, but the rest of us stayed up and sang our group's unofficial theme song: "Don't Stop Believing" -- by Journey. Then Rocky and his roommate tried to find me a guy. They made some poor guy from Romania (I think?) talk to me. As if my night hadn't been awkward enough. He was cute, though, I gotta say. I think his name was Lothar or something equally unusual. Big, tall blonde guy. Mmmm. I like blondes. After some awkward small talk, he left. I turned to Rocky and his roommate.
"Thanks, guys, but I'm ok right now," I said.
"I'm just trying to help you get laid!" said Rocky.
"If you wanted to help me get some, you should have invited The Magician!" I said.
"Oh, he's in Maine," Rocky informed me.
*sigh*
Soon after that, we all went to bed. We had to be up early the next morning to catch a train. The NYC portion of our vacation was almost over. We were going to Vermont for the weekend, where we'd be meeting up with the rest of The Rat Pack.
Stay tuned, readers. Our next installment will use the following phrases:
"OMG! I'm a girl!"
"The Museum of Circles"
"road trip with Hitler"
"grab your ankles!"
and of course,
"Hey, Ahty, wanna go play some stickbawl?"
MJ, it's all you, girl.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
We Interrupt This Program...
I still have at least two more Southern Culture posts I'd like to write. (Unless everyone is sick of them?) I decided to start this series at a good time -- I don't have a lot going on right now. But that doesn't mean I don't have anything going on, either. For example:
1. I cannot stop eating hot dogs or anything orange-flavored. Maybe it's the summer weather, maybe it's the little kid in me, but all I want are ketchup, orange soda pop (OMG, diet Sunkist? The shiznit.), cheese-filled wieners and that ice cream where they mix the vanilla ice cream with orange sherbet. What is going on??? I never crave this stuff.
2. I am officially b-r-o-k-e. $40 until payday. This is not good. Note to self: DO SOMETHING!!
3. I just burned a new CD today. My favorite tracks include: "Beautiful Liar" -- Beyonce & Shakira, "Hang Me Up to Dry" -- Cold War Kids, "You Know I'm No Good" -- Amy Winehouse, "Like This" -- Kelly Rowland feat. Eve, "We Takin' Over" -- DJ Khaled (et al.) and "Hump de Bump" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, even though they totally sold out on that track. I had no business buying the tracks, but if I don't have new music every 2 months, I can feel my soul dying.
4. Not really any Hot Neighbor news. Haven't seen Hoochie McSkankerton in at least a week. This is good. I probably just jinxed myself, though. I'll probably come home to them sucking face in his driveway again. I did manage to make a complete idiot out of myself, though. (Surprised??) It's a long story, but he needed his sewer turned back on, and he didn't have time to do it since he was going to NC. Being the huge sucker that I am, I blurted out, "I'm not doing anything tomorrow. I can go down to the city offices and do it for you, if you want." The second it flew out of my mouth, I could not believe what a total jackass I was. So if you see me, please write "SUCKER" on my forehead in permanent ink, OK? He ended up doing it himself, so no, I did not run any errands for him. GAH. *bangs head against wall*
5. I didn't do diddly squat over the holiday weekend (see #2, above). Lots of naps, TV watching and hot dog eating. I was pretty much a worthless human being, aside from baking some cookies and working on my big secret project. Which I should actually be calling "Big Secret Project, The Sequel", as the original project needed to be aborted. This re-vamped version is much more...doable. (Again, if you have no idea what I'm talking about or are just plain nosy, email me and I will give you details.) It's ok. I have a 4 day weekend coming up. I can be more productive then. The good thing is, the Summer Parties and cookouts have started. It's starting to be lake time, which is always a fun weekend activity. WOOT!
6. I posted some new recipes on my cooking blog, Virginia Cooks. If you're interested.
But the true highlight of the long weekend was last night.
This is a story which I will call: "I am a Sucker for Awkwardness and Total Humiliation" or "On Realizing That I am a Masochist"
Ahem.
I have been spending a lot of time with the Happy Hour Girls lately, especially E, Butter and their boyfriends. If you remember, we all had a good time together the weekend of Cinco de Mayo. And if you recall, I ended up making out with Rob Thomas, who never called. And yes, I was kind of upset about that.
Well, last night I got a text message from E: "Hey, want to go to dinner with us? We are going to Flying Saucer because Rob Thomas wants to hit on some waitress who works there."
I know she didn't mean anything by it, but did I really need to have this information? To her, it's old news, but to me, it still kind of stings a little that he never called me.
"Dude, no. There's no way I'm going and watching Rob hit on some waitress in front of my face. Not when this is the first time he and I will be seeing each other. Unless you really want me to go," I replied.
She did. And Butter did, too. "Pleeeeeeeeease? I'm Butter! I need bread! You are my bread!" she pleaded. *sigh*
"It's going to be awkward the first time you and Rob see each other, anyway. Might as well get it over with," E said.
"*sigh* Ok. But I'm only going if I can have cigarettes on-demand," I said.
"Done," E said.
I drove over to meet everyone at Rob's house. (Remember, E's boyf is Rob's roommate). Rob and I were cordial, but distant. I wholly avoided eye contact with him (I know, I know. But I just wasn't ready to make nice quite yet.) and talked to everyone else instead. I asked if they liked the cookies. Earlier in the week, I had given E some cookies I made. "Dude, those cookies you made? Amazing," Rob said to me, out of nowhere.
"Really? Because I was sorta hoping you'd choke to death on them!" I wanted to say.
"Dude, your ass-kissing is total bullshit, so fuck off!" I wanted to say.
"That kissing you did? SO average," I wanted to say.
"Thank you. I'm glad you like them," I said instead.
"You wuss!" my brain said.
Soon after, we all piled into cars and drove to the restaurant.
I got MJ and KT to join us, too, and I'm so glad they came. I don't think I could have made it through the meal without having at least 4 girlfriends with me. Thank God for the knowing, understanding and sympathetic looks your girlfriends can give you, all without saying a word. "You OK?" "OMG he's being such a douchebag!" "Don't worry, let's talk about something else!" "Seriously, how dumb is this girl Rob likes?" their eyes said to me.
When I sat down at the table, the only empty seat was next to me. And Rob was the only person who hadn't sat down yet. Super. It looked like I was expecting him to sit next to me. Ugh.
Instead, and far worse, he moved aaaaaall the way to the opposite end of the table from me, and proceeded to pull up a chair. Wow. I don't think that could have been more insulting. Now, not only am I Almost Girl, I also have cooties. This is like 3rd grade all over again. I was already regretting my decision.
My feelings of self-loathing were only intensified when the waitress came over to our table. First off, she wasn't a very good waitress. This is probably because she has the same level of intelligence as a toothpick. Then again, I suppose I am biased. Since she and Rob already knew each other, she proceeds to pull up a chair next to him, where they spent half the meal talking to one another. She spent every possible minute talking to him, and he spent every possible minute trying to make her job easier: "Guys, who ordered the French dip?" "Anyone need anything?" "Are we ready for our bills?" etc.
"It's a good thing my stomach is empty right now, because otherwise, I'd be barfing all over this table," I whispered to MJ as we waited for our food.
"Stiff that stupid bimbo waitress," my brain said.
"I'm gonna stiff her," I told MJ.
I didn't stiff her.
"You wuss!" my brain said.
Anyway, the food was good. My girlfriends were wonderful. The service was below average. The humiliation was total.
Yup. Sounds pretty normal for me.
Never fear. Rob has invited all of us to go to the lake on his boat next weekend. I will get to do a whole repeat of this story, only while wearing my bikini. Because this wasn't quite humiliating enough. To be fully awful, I need to add "pale flesh" and "tummy rolls" to the mix. And if the bimbo waitress comes too? Aaaah, that will be Humiliation Extraordinaire!
It's kind of like a nightmare, only more real.
1. I cannot stop eating hot dogs or anything orange-flavored. Maybe it's the summer weather, maybe it's the little kid in me, but all I want are ketchup, orange soda pop (OMG, diet Sunkist? The shiznit.), cheese-filled wieners and that ice cream where they mix the vanilla ice cream with orange sherbet. What is going on??? I never crave this stuff.
2. I am officially b-r-o-k-e. $40 until payday. This is not good. Note to self: DO SOMETHING!!
3. I just burned a new CD today. My favorite tracks include: "Beautiful Liar" -- Beyonce & Shakira, "Hang Me Up to Dry" -- Cold War Kids, "You Know I'm No Good" -- Amy Winehouse, "Like This" -- Kelly Rowland feat. Eve, "We Takin' Over" -- DJ Khaled (et al.) and "Hump de Bump" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, even though they totally sold out on that track. I had no business buying the tracks, but if I don't have new music every 2 months, I can feel my soul dying.
4. Not really any Hot Neighbor news. Haven't seen Hoochie McSkankerton in at least a week. This is good. I probably just jinxed myself, though. I'll probably come home to them sucking face in his driveway again. I did manage to make a complete idiot out of myself, though. (Surprised??) It's a long story, but he needed his sewer turned back on, and he didn't have time to do it since he was going to NC. Being the huge sucker that I am, I blurted out, "I'm not doing anything tomorrow. I can go down to the city offices and do it for you, if you want." The second it flew out of my mouth, I could not believe what a total jackass I was. So if you see me, please write "SUCKER" on my forehead in permanent ink, OK? He ended up doing it himself, so no, I did not run any errands for him. GAH. *bangs head against wall*
5. I didn't do diddly squat over the holiday weekend (see #2, above). Lots of naps, TV watching and hot dog eating. I was pretty much a worthless human being, aside from baking some cookies and working on my big secret project. Which I should actually be calling "Big Secret Project, The Sequel", as the original project needed to be aborted. This re-vamped version is much more...doable. (Again, if you have no idea what I'm talking about or are just plain nosy, email me and I will give you details.) It's ok. I have a 4 day weekend coming up. I can be more productive then. The good thing is, the Summer Parties and cookouts have started. It's starting to be lake time, which is always a fun weekend activity. WOOT!
6. I posted some new recipes on my cooking blog, Virginia Cooks. If you're interested.
But the true highlight of the long weekend was last night.
This is a story which I will call: "I am a Sucker for Awkwardness and Total Humiliation" or "On Realizing That I am a Masochist"
Ahem.
I have been spending a lot of time with the Happy Hour Girls lately, especially E, Butter and their boyfriends. If you remember, we all had a good time together the weekend of Cinco de Mayo. And if you recall, I ended up making out with Rob Thomas, who never called. And yes, I was kind of upset about that.
Well, last night I got a text message from E: "Hey, want to go to dinner with us? We are going to Flying Saucer because Rob Thomas wants to hit on some waitress who works there."
I know she didn't mean anything by it, but did I really need to have this information? To her, it's old news, but to me, it still kind of stings a little that he never called me.
"Dude, no. There's no way I'm going and watching Rob hit on some waitress in front of my face. Not when this is the first time he and I will be seeing each other. Unless you really want me to go," I replied.
She did. And Butter did, too. "Pleeeeeeeeease? I'm Butter! I need bread! You are my bread!" she pleaded. *sigh*
"It's going to be awkward the first time you and Rob see each other, anyway. Might as well get it over with," E said.
"*sigh* Ok. But I'm only going if I can have cigarettes on-demand," I said.
"Done," E said.
I drove over to meet everyone at Rob's house. (Remember, E's boyf is Rob's roommate). Rob and I were cordial, but distant. I wholly avoided eye contact with him (I know, I know. But I just wasn't ready to make nice quite yet.) and talked to everyone else instead. I asked if they liked the cookies. Earlier in the week, I had given E some cookies I made. "Dude, those cookies you made? Amazing," Rob said to me, out of nowhere.
"Really? Because I was sorta hoping you'd choke to death on them!" I wanted to say.
"Dude, your ass-kissing is total bullshit, so fuck off!" I wanted to say.
"That kissing you did? SO average," I wanted to say.
"Thank you. I'm glad you like them," I said instead.
"You wuss!" my brain said.
Soon after, we all piled into cars and drove to the restaurant.
I got MJ and KT to join us, too, and I'm so glad they came. I don't think I could have made it through the meal without having at least 4 girlfriends with me. Thank God for the knowing, understanding and sympathetic looks your girlfriends can give you, all without saying a word. "You OK?" "OMG he's being such a douchebag!" "Don't worry, let's talk about something else!" "Seriously, how dumb is this girl Rob likes?" their eyes said to me.
When I sat down at the table, the only empty seat was next to me. And Rob was the only person who hadn't sat down yet. Super. It looked like I was expecting him to sit next to me. Ugh.
Instead, and far worse, he moved aaaaaall the way to the opposite end of the table from me, and proceeded to pull up a chair. Wow. I don't think that could have been more insulting. Now, not only am I Almost Girl, I also have cooties. This is like 3rd grade all over again. I was already regretting my decision.
My feelings of self-loathing were only intensified when the waitress came over to our table. First off, she wasn't a very good waitress. This is probably because she has the same level of intelligence as a toothpick. Then again, I suppose I am biased. Since she and Rob already knew each other, she proceeds to pull up a chair next to him, where they spent half the meal talking to one another. She spent every possible minute talking to him, and he spent every possible minute trying to make her job easier: "Guys, who ordered the French dip?" "Anyone need anything?" "Are we ready for our bills?" etc.
"It's a good thing my stomach is empty right now, because otherwise, I'd be barfing all over this table," I whispered to MJ as we waited for our food.
"Stiff that stupid bimbo waitress," my brain said.
"I'm gonna stiff her," I told MJ.
I didn't stiff her.
"You wuss!" my brain said.
Anyway, the food was good. My girlfriends were wonderful. The service was below average. The humiliation was total.
Yup. Sounds pretty normal for me.
Never fear. Rob has invited all of us to go to the lake on his boat next weekend. I will get to do a whole repeat of this story, only while wearing my bikini. Because this wasn't quite humiliating enough. To be fully awful, I need to add "pale flesh" and "tummy rolls" to the mix. And if the bimbo waitress comes too? Aaaah, that will be Humiliation Extraordinaire!
It's kind of like a nightmare, only more real.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Atlanta, an Alcoholic & Almost Girl
I'm not dead! Just very busy.
Thank you, everyone, for your thoughts and prayers for GP. She is doing a lot better now and should be going home at the end of the week. I appreciate your concern and sympathies. I think I'm going to make some cookies for them and mail them up there.
I was in Atlanta most of last week. I had to go to a conference. My hotel was right near here and here. So I took some time to do some window shopping in these ultra-swanky malls.
I bought a super cute purse (sorry, can't find a pic), but otherwise, it was easy to avoid temptation in a mall where prices start at $200. If I had the money, I would have bought something at this store because everything in there was SO me. But prices there started at about $350. Ouch. So purchasing stuff there will have to wait until I marry Julian McMahon.
Y'all, have you tried these new fancy beds they have in hotels now? Holy cow, they have a good thing going on with these beds. You sit on them and you're like, "Oh, wow, gosh, this is really comfzzzzzzzzzzzz............." and four hours later, you wake up. I highly recommend these beds. I am so getting one when Julian and I get married. Complete with their zillion-thread-count sheets. Then he and I can hump like rabbits in total Egyptian cotton bliss.
So....you are going to love this post. Because I have so much to share. (Shocker!!)
Let's start with Wednesday's blind date. Blonde set me up with a guy who is about 32, 33--somewhere in that range. She described him as a "cute partier", which, to my naive brain meant "fun and smoochable".
Because I had a lot of extra time to get ready, I decided to go all-out: black pencil skirt, fitted white stretchy top, metallic stilettos and smoky eye makeup. I even had time to put hot rollers in my hair, and DAMN I had a good hair day. Seriously. Top 5 hair days of all time.
Feeling very confident, I went to the bar where I was meeting up with Blonde, her boyfriend and my date. When they arrived, I have to say, I was a little disappointed. I had forgotten that Blonde's definition of "cute partier" was vastly different than mine. Apparently the "cute" part meant "not cute" and the "partier" part meant "alcoholic".
Between meeting up with me at the bar and then literally getting up to walk to our table, my date had polished off a vodka & water. I'm talking less than 5 minutes, here, peeps. He had another one immediately afterwards. So he had downed two of these in about 15 minutes. Now, it's been a long time since I've drunk alcohol, but it seems to me that vodka & water would be a rough combination, especially on an empty stomach--it was 9pm and he hadn't had any dinner. When the waitress came over to ask him if he wanted a 3rd vodka & water, I realized what was happening, and my jaw literally dropped. I thought he was still on his first drink!
I think he saw my reaction, because he switched to beer. Now, I know people get nervous on dates, especially blind dates. But this guy had alcoholic written all over him. He gave me a very hard time about the fact that I don't drink (always a sign, trust me). Every story he told involved drinking. He talks veeeeeeeerrrrrry slowly, to the point that he sounds stupid. I knew a guy like that once, in college. He was probably the biggest partier I'd ever met. So I know that his speech pattern was probably a result of years of heavy drinking and probably a lot of pot smoking, too.
You would think that his personality would improve with the alcohol consumption, but it didn't. He was boring and not funny. He just became quieter and quieter as he drank. Seriously, I could have had a V-8. It was bad. And seeing as how I dated a guy last year with questionable reactions to alcohol consumption, I'm not about to start dating another one. I am really over dating frat boys who never grew up. I am tired of the big partiers. I want a stable, mature man.
When he asked if he could take me to dinner sometime, I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from retorting, "Why? Because this is going so well?" But instead, I just replied flatly, "No. I'm sorry." He appreciated my honesty and then I excused myself and went home, all the while, wondering what in the hell Blonde was thinking by setting me up with him, and frustrated for wasting a good hair day.
As I pulled into my driveway, I realized with excitement that Hot Neighbor was pulling into his driveway at the same time. This was my big chance for him to see me looking nice for once. I got out and started walking to my door. He ran over to me. "Hey, girl. What's going on? You look great!"
Suh-weet. "This could not be better timing," I thought.
I told him about my lame date, and he sympathized. "How old was is?" he asked. "Oh, about 32 or 33. Somewhere in there," I answered.
"Gah, he's making us look bad!" he replied. And I thought, "Mmmm....no, not really....."
Looking back, I should have told him to set me up with a better 33-year-old....dang. Hate it when you think of good stuff to say only after it's too late!
Then he asked me about my super-secret project, and I told him I was basically aborting mission and thinking of an alternate route to my goal. (Sorry, I can't be more specific...) He told me he could help me by putting me in touch with the right people for an alternate plan I have considered in the past. He's going to drop off a list of names and numbers for me, hopefully soon.( Of course, he's obviously trying to figure out how he can see me again. Duh.)
We chatted some about our jobs and my dogs before parting ways.
By the time I went inside, he had told me I looked really great THREE times. He totally checked me out. Woot!!!!
Oh, and I asked him last Tuesday if he would take my trash can down to the curb on Friday, since I would be in Atlanta when the trash men came. He remembered. That scored some points with me, definitely. Gotta love a reliable guy. They are few and far between. Lord knows what I've had to deal with in the past...
Looking back, I should have asked him to get my mail for me, too, because then I would have an excuse to go knocking on his door....shoot. I'm not very good of thinking of the best thing to say at the time. It's because he makes me all nervous and jittery.
Did I mention that he knocked on my door the other day and I answered, wearing only a towel? Gosh. Hate when that happens. I had just gotten out of the shower and dried my hair. No makeup on yet, but I figured the "just a towel" factor sort of counter-acted that. He was asking me about K and if she had moved out. I told him she had. He said he would let me know if he knew anyone who would be interested in moving in with me. I realized only after it was too late that the whole time he was talking, I was, without realizing it, smiling and biting my lower lip. Yeesh. I am ridiculous.
Of course, in my head, the story kinda ends more like this: I "accidentally" drop my towel and he ends up pushing me against the wall and making me very, very late for dinner. Tee hee.
*pauses to imagine situation*
Ok, now that that's overwith....
Rob Thomas never called. Yeah. I feel pretty let down. It is kind of surprising to me, because I would have bet big bucks I had that in the bag. I totally got the whole, "Oh, we are so going to start dating now," thought in my brain. I have never been wrong with that gut feeling before. But there's a first time for everything. On Friday night I talked to his roommate, B, about it at Happy Hour.
"I think he's still hung up on his ex. They broke up last July and he was pretty devastated. She still calls him and leads him on," he explained.
"Are you kidding me???" I said in disbelief.
"Yeah. I'm sorry, VB. That's the only reason I can think of. But I think he's making a huge mistake, and I do think you two would be really good together. I could tell y'all had a good time, and he even said he had a good time. I just think that maybe he's not over his ex. He and I didn't talk about why he never called you, but that's what I think is going on," he said.
"I hate his ex-girlfriend, VB. Seriously, all his friends hate her. He's being an idiot," E chimed in. (Remember, my friend E is dating B, and they have been trying to get me hooked up with Rob Thomas for weeks.)
Soon after, as I was leaving with E, I proceeded to have a total meltdown. Feeling totally frustrated and rejected, I started crying in public. Right at the front door of the bar. Awesome. Love it when I do this. "That's it, E! I'm not dating anymore! I am so OVER this! I am done. Do you see? Do you see why I don't date? I can never catch a break. I'm always the runner-up girl. The 'almost' girl. Hot Neighbor almost asked me out once. Cute guys almost talk to me. The Magician almost called me. [Ok, I don't know if he ever considered calling me, but to my rejection-fueled brain, this made sense at the time.] Rob Thomas and I almost started dating. I am sick of it!" I bawled.
Of course, as luck would have it, B walked up right in the middle of this meltdown. I know he won't say anything to Rob, but still. I didn't want him to think I was so upset about all of this. And I wasn't -- I had been driving in Atlanta/Columbia traffic all day and had been running around like a chicken since I had gotten up that morning. I was exhausted. When I'm exhausted, I cry. To be honest, I had no business even going out on Friday. Stubbing my toe, contemplating world peace or talking about Paris Hilton's jail time would have made me cry, too. My tears were just looking for an excuse to make an appearance. B&E sat with me and calmed me down. They said a lot of things that made me feel better. (My favorite? "He's making a huge mistake."-- I love hearing that.) I took some deep breaths and got in my car and drove home.
It's nice that they are pulling for me. They were worried that I would not feel comfortable hanging out at B's house, since Rob would be there. I told them it's ok and that I would be fine. They want to have a cookout soon, and they really want me to go. I will go, but I just have to make sure I look smokin' hot and bring something totally delicious (toffee cheesecake??). I don't think it will be too awkward. I will be nice to him. But distant.
After all this, I think I may officially give up entirely on dating. When you look back on your dating history and realize that every ex-boyfriend is worse than the last, that's not good. When you are getting set up with alcoholics, I think that is a sign you might want to just throw in the towel. And sure, Hot Neighbor checked me out. But that's a long way from asking me out. (Remember, I am "almost girl"). I'm sure Wednesday Skank is still on the scene (although, I haven't seen her in a while...). And yes, it is nice that Rob and I hit it off, but it's obviously never going to happen. I am tired of dating guys who seem nice at first, only to throw me onto an emotional rollercoaster and hurt me. It's soooo much easier to just be alone. I hate being Almost Girl. I'm tired of it. It's better to be Alone Girl.
Thank you, everyone, for your thoughts and prayers for GP. She is doing a lot better now and should be going home at the end of the week. I appreciate your concern and sympathies. I think I'm going to make some cookies for them and mail them up there.
I was in Atlanta most of last week. I had to go to a conference. My hotel was right near here and here. So I took some time to do some window shopping in these ultra-swanky malls.
I bought a super cute purse (sorry, can't find a pic), but otherwise, it was easy to avoid temptation in a mall where prices start at $200. If I had the money, I would have bought something at this store because everything in there was SO me. But prices there started at about $350. Ouch. So purchasing stuff there will have to wait until I marry Julian McMahon.
Y'all, have you tried these new fancy beds they have in hotels now? Holy cow, they have a good thing going on with these beds. You sit on them and you're like, "Oh, wow, gosh, this is really comfzzzzzzzzzzzz............." and four hours later, you wake up. I highly recommend these beds. I am so getting one when Julian and I get married. Complete with their zillion-thread-count sheets. Then he and I can hump like rabbits in total Egyptian cotton bliss.
So....you are going to love this post. Because I have so much to share. (Shocker!!)
Let's start with Wednesday's blind date. Blonde set me up with a guy who is about 32, 33--somewhere in that range. She described him as a "cute partier", which, to my naive brain meant "fun and smoochable".
Because I had a lot of extra time to get ready, I decided to go all-out: black pencil skirt, fitted white stretchy top, metallic stilettos and smoky eye makeup. I even had time to put hot rollers in my hair, and DAMN I had a good hair day. Seriously. Top 5 hair days of all time.
Feeling very confident, I went to the bar where I was meeting up with Blonde, her boyfriend and my date. When they arrived, I have to say, I was a little disappointed. I had forgotten that Blonde's definition of "cute partier" was vastly different than mine. Apparently the "cute" part meant "not cute" and the "partier" part meant "alcoholic".
Between meeting up with me at the bar and then literally getting up to walk to our table, my date had polished off a vodka & water. I'm talking less than 5 minutes, here, peeps. He had another one immediately afterwards. So he had downed two of these in about 15 minutes. Now, it's been a long time since I've drunk alcohol, but it seems to me that vodka & water would be a rough combination, especially on an empty stomach--it was 9pm and he hadn't had any dinner. When the waitress came over to ask him if he wanted a 3rd vodka & water, I realized what was happening, and my jaw literally dropped. I thought he was still on his first drink!
I think he saw my reaction, because he switched to beer. Now, I know people get nervous on dates, especially blind dates. But this guy had alcoholic written all over him. He gave me a very hard time about the fact that I don't drink (always a sign, trust me). Every story he told involved drinking. He talks veeeeeeeerrrrrry slowly, to the point that he sounds stupid. I knew a guy like that once, in college. He was probably the biggest partier I'd ever met. So I know that his speech pattern was probably a result of years of heavy drinking and probably a lot of pot smoking, too.
You would think that his personality would improve with the alcohol consumption, but it didn't. He was boring and not funny. He just became quieter and quieter as he drank. Seriously, I could have had a V-8. It was bad. And seeing as how I dated a guy last year with questionable reactions to alcohol consumption, I'm not about to start dating another one. I am really over dating frat boys who never grew up. I am tired of the big partiers. I want a stable, mature man.
When he asked if he could take me to dinner sometime, I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from retorting, "Why? Because this is going so well?" But instead, I just replied flatly, "No. I'm sorry." He appreciated my honesty and then I excused myself and went home, all the while, wondering what in the hell Blonde was thinking by setting me up with him, and frustrated for wasting a good hair day.
As I pulled into my driveway, I realized with excitement that Hot Neighbor was pulling into his driveway at the same time. This was my big chance for him to see me looking nice for once. I got out and started walking to my door. He ran over to me. "Hey, girl. What's going on? You look great!"
Suh-weet. "This could not be better timing," I thought.
I told him about my lame date, and he sympathized. "How old was is?" he asked. "Oh, about 32 or 33. Somewhere in there," I answered.
"Gah, he's making us look bad!" he replied. And I thought, "Mmmm....no, not really....."
Looking back, I should have told him to set me up with a better 33-year-old....dang. Hate it when you think of good stuff to say only after it's too late!
Then he asked me about my super-secret project, and I told him I was basically aborting mission and thinking of an alternate route to my goal. (Sorry, I can't be more specific...) He told me he could help me by putting me in touch with the right people for an alternate plan I have considered in the past. He's going to drop off a list of names and numbers for me, hopefully soon.( Of course, he's obviously trying to figure out how he can see me again. Duh.)
We chatted some about our jobs and my dogs before parting ways.
By the time I went inside, he had told me I looked really great THREE times. He totally checked me out. Woot!!!!
Oh, and I asked him last Tuesday if he would take my trash can down to the curb on Friday, since I would be in Atlanta when the trash men came. He remembered. That scored some points with me, definitely. Gotta love a reliable guy. They are few and far between. Lord knows what I've had to deal with in the past...
Looking back, I should have asked him to get my mail for me, too, because then I would have an excuse to go knocking on his door....shoot. I'm not very good of thinking of the best thing to say at the time. It's because he makes me all nervous and jittery.
Did I mention that he knocked on my door the other day and I answered, wearing only a towel? Gosh. Hate when that happens. I had just gotten out of the shower and dried my hair. No makeup on yet, but I figured the "just a towel" factor sort of counter-acted that. He was asking me about K and if she had moved out. I told him she had. He said he would let me know if he knew anyone who would be interested in moving in with me. I realized only after it was too late that the whole time he was talking, I was, without realizing it, smiling and biting my lower lip. Yeesh. I am ridiculous.
Of course, in my head, the story kinda ends more like this: I "accidentally" drop my towel and he ends up pushing me against the wall and making me very, very late for dinner. Tee hee.
*pauses to imagine situation*
Ok, now that that's overwith....
Rob Thomas never called. Yeah. I feel pretty let down. It is kind of surprising to me, because I would have bet big bucks I had that in the bag. I totally got the whole, "Oh, we are so going to start dating now," thought in my brain. I have never been wrong with that gut feeling before. But there's a first time for everything. On Friday night I talked to his roommate, B, about it at Happy Hour.
"I think he's still hung up on his ex. They broke up last July and he was pretty devastated. She still calls him and leads him on," he explained.
"Are you kidding me???" I said in disbelief.
"Yeah. I'm sorry, VB. That's the only reason I can think of. But I think he's making a huge mistake, and I do think you two would be really good together. I could tell y'all had a good time, and he even said he had a good time. I just think that maybe he's not over his ex. He and I didn't talk about why he never called you, but that's what I think is going on," he said.
"I hate his ex-girlfriend, VB. Seriously, all his friends hate her. He's being an idiot," E chimed in. (Remember, my friend E is dating B, and they have been trying to get me hooked up with Rob Thomas for weeks.)
Soon after, as I was leaving with E, I proceeded to have a total meltdown. Feeling totally frustrated and rejected, I started crying in public. Right at the front door of the bar. Awesome. Love it when I do this. "That's it, E! I'm not dating anymore! I am so OVER this! I am done. Do you see? Do you see why I don't date? I can never catch a break. I'm always the runner-up girl. The 'almost' girl. Hot Neighbor almost asked me out once. Cute guys almost talk to me. The Magician almost called me. [Ok, I don't know if he ever considered calling me, but to my rejection-fueled brain, this made sense at the time.] Rob Thomas and I almost started dating. I am sick of it!" I bawled.
Of course, as luck would have it, B walked up right in the middle of this meltdown. I know he won't say anything to Rob, but still. I didn't want him to think I was so upset about all of this. And I wasn't -- I had been driving in Atlanta/Columbia traffic all day and had been running around like a chicken since I had gotten up that morning. I was exhausted. When I'm exhausted, I cry. To be honest, I had no business even going out on Friday. Stubbing my toe, contemplating world peace or talking about Paris Hilton's jail time would have made me cry, too. My tears were just looking for an excuse to make an appearance. B&E sat with me and calmed me down. They said a lot of things that made me feel better. (My favorite? "He's making a huge mistake."-- I love hearing that.) I took some deep breaths and got in my car and drove home.
It's nice that they are pulling for me. They were worried that I would not feel comfortable hanging out at B's house, since Rob would be there. I told them it's ok and that I would be fine. They want to have a cookout soon, and they really want me to go. I will go, but I just have to make sure I look smokin' hot and bring something totally delicious (toffee cheesecake??). I don't think it will be too awkward. I will be nice to him. But distant.
After all this, I think I may officially give up entirely on dating. When you look back on your dating history and realize that every ex-boyfriend is worse than the last, that's not good. When you are getting set up with alcoholics, I think that is a sign you might want to just throw in the towel. And sure, Hot Neighbor checked me out. But that's a long way from asking me out. (Remember, I am "almost girl"). I'm sure Wednesday Skank is still on the scene (although, I haven't seen her in a while...). And yes, it is nice that Rob and I hit it off, but it's obviously never going to happen. I am tired of dating guys who seem nice at first, only to throw me onto an emotional rollercoaster and hurt me. It's soooo much easier to just be alone. I hate being Almost Girl. I'm tired of it. It's better to be Alone Girl.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Reasons #19 and #24
Filed under why my job is cool sometimes:
#19 -- You can settle bets with friends. MJ and I were debating on whether or not grits were made from the entire cob or just the kernels. She said cob, I said kernels. Found out this morning: kernels only. The cobs are good for nothing other than making them into corncob pipes. I win. Woot!
#24 -- You can really stalk people. Today, in about 5 seconds, I learned Hot Neighbor's last name, his ex-wife's name, the date of their marriage and their former address. I learned that he moved in only 6 months before I did AND he paid about $7k less for his house than I did, although our homes are identical. I also learned how old he is -- 32. If I wanted to take the time to do so, I know how to go downtown and look up their divorce record, wedding announcement and maybe some other stuff. But that is much more effort than I'm willing to invest. Especially since he's probably interested in me for the sole reason that I can babysit for him. (Thanks to my straight hairdresser for being oh-so-certain that's what HN wanted that one time.)
Speaking of HN, let me tell you about Wednesday Skank (WS). She showed up at his house on Saturday evening, wearing a black dress with a hem so short she probably could not bend over in the dress. Seriously, y'all, she looked like a hooker. I mean, I like short skirts on occasion, but this one made me blush on her behalf. Paired with red stilettos, she looked trashy. I'm thinking now that she could be a stripper.
Then again, maybe the fact that I wear jeans all the time is why he's out with her and not me...
But you know what? She's just some stupid bimbo. He's probably using her to rub it in his ex's face or something. Maybe he's having an early mid-life crisis. Who knows. But I can say that if she keeps coming over to his house every day, he's going to get sick of her pretty quick. I don't care how lonely you are, everyone needs space.
Guess I will just sit back and wait for their relationship to implode. Then I can swoop in and make him fall madly in love with me.
Although, do I want to date someone who's into girls like that to begin with? Hmmm. Dunno.
Friday night I hung out with MJ and we made quite the pub crawl -- I think we hit 5 bars, plus late-night pizza before heading home. The good news was, we discovered a cool new bar. Gotta love that. While we were there, I did talk to one guy, and although cute, he wasn't funny or smart. He gave me his number, but I will never call him. Funny is a must-have.
I chopped my hair off on Saturday. Not completely, just shoulder-length. With some long bangs and layers that like to fall in my face. I am loving the new 'do. It's very freeing. It moves a lot. And based on my experiences Saturday night when I went out, it's also a hit with guys. I don't know why, but I had about 3 different guys approach me. Maybe it was the low-cut satin tank top....Not much to write home about, but it's good for the ol' ego. Woot!
Wait, I take that back. One of them was cute, but he had some serious cock-blockage issues. He was out at the bars with a man who was about 60-65. Now, some wing-women can deal with talking to a senior citizen while her girl chats with a guy. But not many. Most girls I know would struggle, feel awkward, escape to the bathroom and give me a hard time about it later. Besides, I don't really want to be that friend who pawns off old men on her friends so she can give a guy her number in a few minutes. I had no choice but to politely blow him off. (Any opinions on this decision? I have never really been in that situation before. I mean, talking to another wingman is one thing, but a grandpa? Just seems creepy and awkward. I felt bad putting my friend in that position. Keep in mind this old guy didn't seem to have much personality. He just kinda stood there.)
Sunday I went to dinner with MJ and got to meet her parents, who are in town this week. I managed to make a total ass out of myself by going off on the Post Office, when everyone started laughing at me. It turns out that Mr. Jane is....a mailman. Yeah. Great first impression. Luckily, he has the same wonderful sense of humor as his daughter, and it was all taken in stride. WHEW.
After dinner, we all got in our respective cars and met up at an ice cream parlor. The best parking spot just happened to be right in front of a picnic table full of hottie firemen. They were all eating ice cream. Their fire truck was parked across the street. [Insert single girl, Backdraft-style fireman/ice cream fantasy here.]
I know you are expecting me to have some kind of cool, exciting story here, but true to form, I completely chickened out. I think I made a half-assed attempt at smiling at them, but basically choked and just crossed the street to the ice cream parlor. What can I say?? I can handle maybe 2 hottie firemen at a table. But 5? Unh-unh. No way. That is ultra-intimidating. I totally freaked and bolted. Mmmm...that's hot.
Ugh, I should be ashamed of myself. Especially since I caught them smiling at me. They definitely wanted me to talk to them. WHY do I chicken out at the MOST opportune times??? Aaaargh. I do this with HN, too. I am a doofus. No wonder I am alone.
Excuse me, I have to go bang my head against the wall now.
#19 -- You can settle bets with friends. MJ and I were debating on whether or not grits were made from the entire cob or just the kernels. She said cob, I said kernels. Found out this morning: kernels only. The cobs are good for nothing other than making them into corncob pipes. I win. Woot!
#24 -- You can really stalk people. Today, in about 5 seconds, I learned Hot Neighbor's last name, his ex-wife's name, the date of their marriage and their former address. I learned that he moved in only 6 months before I did AND he paid about $7k less for his house than I did, although our homes are identical. I also learned how old he is -- 32. If I wanted to take the time to do so, I know how to go downtown and look up their divorce record, wedding announcement and maybe some other stuff. But that is much more effort than I'm willing to invest. Especially since he's probably interested in me for the sole reason that I can babysit for him. (Thanks to my straight hairdresser for being oh-so-certain that's what HN wanted that one time.)
Speaking of HN, let me tell you about Wednesday Skank (WS). She showed up at his house on Saturday evening, wearing a black dress with a hem so short she probably could not bend over in the dress. Seriously, y'all, she looked like a hooker. I mean, I like short skirts on occasion, but this one made me blush on her behalf. Paired with red stilettos, she looked trashy. I'm thinking now that she could be a stripper.
Then again, maybe the fact that I wear jeans all the time is why he's out with her and not me...
But you know what? She's just some stupid bimbo. He's probably using her to rub it in his ex's face or something. Maybe he's having an early mid-life crisis. Who knows. But I can say that if she keeps coming over to his house every day, he's going to get sick of her pretty quick. I don't care how lonely you are, everyone needs space.
Guess I will just sit back and wait for their relationship to implode. Then I can swoop in and make him fall madly in love with me.
Although, do I want to date someone who's into girls like that to begin with? Hmmm. Dunno.
Friday night I hung out with MJ and we made quite the pub crawl -- I think we hit 5 bars, plus late-night pizza before heading home. The good news was, we discovered a cool new bar. Gotta love that. While we were there, I did talk to one guy, and although cute, he wasn't funny or smart. He gave me his number, but I will never call him. Funny is a must-have.
I chopped my hair off on Saturday. Not completely, just shoulder-length. With some long bangs and layers that like to fall in my face. I am loving the new 'do. It's very freeing. It moves a lot. And based on my experiences Saturday night when I went out, it's also a hit with guys. I don't know why, but I had about 3 different guys approach me. Maybe it was the low-cut satin tank top....Not much to write home about, but it's good for the ol' ego. Woot!
Wait, I take that back. One of them was cute, but he had some serious cock-blockage issues. He was out at the bars with a man who was about 60-65. Now, some wing-women can deal with talking to a senior citizen while her girl chats with a guy. But not many. Most girls I know would struggle, feel awkward, escape to the bathroom and give me a hard time about it later. Besides, I don't really want to be that friend who pawns off old men on her friends so she can give a guy her number in a few minutes. I had no choice but to politely blow him off. (Any opinions on this decision? I have never really been in that situation before. I mean, talking to another wingman is one thing, but a grandpa? Just seems creepy and awkward. I felt bad putting my friend in that position. Keep in mind this old guy didn't seem to have much personality. He just kinda stood there.)
Sunday I went to dinner with MJ and got to meet her parents, who are in town this week. I managed to make a total ass out of myself by going off on the Post Office, when everyone started laughing at me. It turns out that Mr. Jane is....a mailman. Yeah. Great first impression. Luckily, he has the same wonderful sense of humor as his daughter, and it was all taken in stride. WHEW.
After dinner, we all got in our respective cars and met up at an ice cream parlor. The best parking spot just happened to be right in front of a picnic table full of hottie firemen. They were all eating ice cream. Their fire truck was parked across the street. [Insert single girl, Backdraft-style fireman/ice cream fantasy here.]
I know you are expecting me to have some kind of cool, exciting story here, but true to form, I completely chickened out. I think I made a half-assed attempt at smiling at them, but basically choked and just crossed the street to the ice cream parlor. What can I say?? I can handle maybe 2 hottie firemen at a table. But 5? Unh-unh. No way. That is ultra-intimidating. I totally freaked and bolted. Mmmm...that's hot.
Ugh, I should be ashamed of myself. Especially since I caught them smiling at me. They definitely wanted me to talk to them. WHY do I chicken out at the MOST opportune times??? Aaaargh. I do this with HN, too. I am a doofus. No wonder I am alone.
Excuse me, I have to go bang my head against the wall now.
Monday, April 02, 2007
Spring Fling
Ok, so I have to tell you about my weekend. It was fantastic. And I have insomnia right now, so I might as well just type up a long-ass post. (I will explain why I have insomnia maybe another time...) This post is going to be hard to write, because I'm going to want to give out very personal and juicy details....which, I can't do. So I will just have to allude to things...
Oh, and there is a theme song for this weekend in Charleston. I don't know why (maybe MJ can enlighten me?), but we all kept singing Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" about 400 times at the top of our lungs. At some point, MJ and one of the guys was running down the beach, punching the air while singing it. Who knows. I wasn't there to see it. But that is the soundtrack to this weekend I'm about to tell you about.
MJ and KT are from New York, so they have a group of guy friends who live up there, either in or near NYC. One of them, a textbook "New Yawkah" (a member of the Rat Pack, who visited us last October. I will dub him Rocky) was invited to a wedding in Isle of Palms, one of the swankier parts of Charleston, SC. He took MJ as his date. They invited me and KT to go with them.
Rocky brought his friend (and coworker) The Magician with him. But more about him in a minute... ;)
So we booked an oceanfront hotel room on Isle of Palms, MJ and KT picked up the guys at the Charlotte airport, everyone came to my house to pick me up, and then we headed to Charleston on Friday afternoon. We stopped for lunch on the way and got to Charleston at about 4pm. Our room was nice, but small. And 5 people sharing one small bathroom was a big pain in the ass. But otherwise, it was great being right on the beach. MJ definitely picked a good hotel.
Friday night, MJ and Rocky went to the wedding. While they were there, KT, The Magician and I went to dinner at this WONDERFUL restaurant called Pearlz. I highly recommend it. It's in downtown Charleston. I had this peppercorn tilapia that melted in my mouth, and everyone else's food was great, too. Great service, nice ambiance. (Looking it up just now on Google, I learned it's owned by the same company that owns Liberty's, one of my favorite Columbia restaurants. Go figure.)
The Magician and I were hitting it off. I thought he was cute, right away. Definitely a spark. Actually, right when i was being introduced and shook his hand, I thought, "Ok, I think this is going to be a good weekend!"
Oh Jeez. I just realized Rocky might read MJ's blog, which means he might read this blog...oh dear. Ok, I am going to have to seriously edit this....or get reassurance from MJ that Rocky doesn't read these.
Ok, the 411 on The Magician: he's my age (28), about 6'2", lean without being very muscular. He's got light brown hair and hazel eyes. he's half Native American and half Scottish -- yeah, kind of an interesting combination, I thought. To be honest, I don't think I've ever met anyone who is more than a sprinkle Native American, so it was kind of cool. He can even say some phrases in his people's language. He is a "Wall Street Warrior"-- he works in some big fancy building, doing investment stuff all day. (To my NYC readers-- I am curious -- are there stereotypes about Wall Steeters? Please let me know. I'm sure I would be amused.) He works near where the Twin Towers were, in a building on the 43rd floor. His family is big like mine. He's very funny, smart and charming. Not really my type in some ways, but at the same time, totally my type. (I know, it makes no sense....then again, some of the best things in life make no sense.)
And remember my dry spell, people.
So i was pretty much doomed. Totally powerless, actually.
After dinner, the three of us went to some bars (Southend Brewery...shoot. I can't remember where else...there's a bar I'm forgetting...).
Anyway, The Magician has a guy pal who lives in Charleston, so he and his wife met up with us at Wet Willy's. They are the nicest couple. We were all chatting in the middle of the bar. Eventually, my feet started to hurt, so I went to go sit down in a corner. The Magician went with me.
....and that's when we started making out like teenagers in the middle of Wet Willy's. There is some debate over who kissed who first, but just for the record, it was his idea. He started it.
OMG y'all. It's a good thing I was out of town, because making out in a bar is NOT my thing at ALL. If I had been in Columbia, my face would have been beet red!!! I kept stopping him, saying, "No! I do not make out in bars! I am not that kind of girl! You have to stop!"
But I only sort of half-way meant it, because he is The Greatest Kisser in the World.
Yeah. I was totally powerless. Putty in his hands.
Oh boy.
Of course, KT, being KT, took pictures of us sucking face in a crowded bar. Awesome. I didn't realize until it was too late. If she ever puts them on the Internet, I will die. LOL
By this point, everyone was pretty much drunk (except me, obviously), so we went back to the hotel.
Meanwhile, MJ and Rocky had gotten totally shitfaced at the wedding and passed out at the hotel before they could even meet up with us. Dorks. Plus, they were each hogging a bed. This sort of messed up our plans (nudge nudge). KT hopped in with MJ. The Magician and I tried to move Rocky, but he got kind of pissed when we woke him up. So he and I decided to take a walk on the beach instead of going to sleep.
Yeah. See where this is going? No, not there. Who likes sand up their butt? Not me. Where was I? Oh yes.
Full moon, light breeze, empty beach...we ended up making out again (Seriously, who is this girl, and where is VB??? It's like the college version of myself went to Charleston this weekend.)....and we got so into making out that we ended up falling over.......and laughing our asses off......and getting sand all over us....
Ok. So then we decided it was too cold, so we went back inside. We obviously didn't want to move Rocky, so we inflated the air mattress and..........well, if this was a movie, this is where the screen would fade to black.
So, why am I referring to him as The Magician? This is why. I swear, y'all, it was like he could read my mind -- I would be thinking, "Gee, I wish he would..." and then he would do it. What guy has that ability??? He not only had the ability to read my mind, but he also has the ability to make things disappear. [Ok, that last line is not as perverted as it sounds. But I am not getting into details. I am seriously editing myself, here, people, because I am trying to keep something in my life private. You can use your imagination. We're all adults. We've all been there. If you are really that nosy or dense, just email me. Sheesh. But if it's any consolation, it's really really hard for me not to spill the juicy details. Don't you love that I have a big mouth when it comes to my personal life?]
I can't believe I did that. I haven't hooked up* in a hotel room full of sleeping people since college (but that's another story). Kind of a jerky move, I know. But they were all asleep. And trust me, if you had been in my position, you would have done the same thing. I don't think wild, attacking tigers could have stopped me.
*Remember, my definition of "hooking up" is: anything more than kissing. Which may or may not involve a run around the bases. So you will just have to wonder what I mean. Sorry.
The next morning, Rocky, MJ and KT went to breakfast at 10am. Since The Magician and I had stayed up a little later than them (AHEM), we slept in. Of course, as they were getting ready, KT spilled the beans and they all made fun of us.....oh well. We deserved it.
He and I got up about an hour later, went to lunch, had a good time. Not awkward at all. We went back to the hotel room just as I got a text message from KT: they were all at the beach.
We had the hotel room to ourselves.
Do the math.
Then he and I joined them at the beach, where we all got sunburned, drank beer and ate corn dogs and ice cream.
We went back to the room around 5ish, napped and showered, and then went out again. This time, we went to A.W. Shuck's for dinner, where we had THE WORST SERVICE I've ever had in my life. A quick run-down:
1. Our waitress was rude and told us when SHE was ready to take our order (which was about a half an hour after we got there) -- she pretty much copped an attitude with us the whole time and never removed dirty dishes unless we flagged her down.
2. Three tables (including us) asked restaurant employees to turn off the hurricane-level arctic fan, but no one EVER DID.
3. The guys ordered martinis. They came out with MAYBE 2 sips in them--a total joke. It turns out the bartender was basically giving them each one shot of vodka. And that's all. Which, if you know about martinis, isn't even how you make them. We had to talk to FOUR people (3 of whom argued with us) before getting the drinks fixed. And they still charged us for them anyway.
4. Did I mention it took us 2 and 1/2 hours to get our food? Yeah. Because the drink fiasco took up 45 minutes. This didn't bother me so much as Rocky, so I am including this in the list on his behalf.
5. They messed up splitting our bill, but it didn't really matter, because it all evened out in the end.
Our bill was about $140 and we left $4. Two of us stiffed her. We ALL left notes for her/managers on our credit card slips. NEVER EAT AT THIS PLACE! It was horrible!! The two tables on either side of us had problems, too. We all revolted.
After dinner, we put it all behind us and got drunk again, this time with MJ and Rocky with us. At one point, looking for our next bar, Rocky saw some very tall steps and did a fantastic Rocky impression (hence his name), as we watched and laughed from across the street. We had a great time, but MJ and KT were both sick by this point, so they left early. (MJ has strep throat and KT has a sinus infection/bronchitis. They were miserable for at least half the weekend. But they were troupers. I'll give them that.) I hung out with Rocky and The Magician until the bars closed, having a blast and (again) making out with The Magician while Rocky hit on Charleston girls. He ended up meeting 3 people (a guy and his girlfriend, and another girl who talked like Minnie Mouse) who were also staying at Isle of Palms. We decided to all get a cab together to save money. Ok, Rocky and the people worked it out. The Magician and I were busy sucking face again.
Because it was the Bridge Run weekend, we could NOT find a cab to save our lives. After 45 minutes, we flagged down one. And by "flagged down", I mean that 7 of us surrounded the cab and squished into it before the cabbie could protest. Then we demanded that the cabbie take us to our hotels. He didn't want to do it because he wasn't supposed to have 7 people in his cab. He could get a fine and there were a lot of cops out. Also, he had "just gotten out of jail", which I didn't buy.
We refused to budge, out of sheer desperation. The guy who was with us was SHITFACED, and so he just started handing the cabbie money. "There, that should get us at least across the bridge," he slurred as he handed the cabbie $100.
We were in a cab with Mr. Moneybags! Sweet!
The cabbie told us to be quiet as he accepted the cash. Of course, at 2am, 7 drunk people cannot be quiet, so they all proceeded to talk loudly and at the same time, which made me giggle. It was a very entertaining cab ride.
Yeah, so we got a free cab ride from downtown to Isle of Palms, which is about a 30 minute ride. All we had to do was tip the cabbie. Suh-weet!
Everyone went to sleep. The Magician and I stayed up (Ok, seriously, are you even surprised at this point?). Unfortunately, we were pretty tired at this point, so we kept falling asleep mid-smooch and finally gave up after a while.
The next morning, MJ felt like crap, so she left to go to the doctor's right away. The rest of us took our time going back to Columbia, stopping for breakfast at IHOP. I continued to tease The Magician by asking him annoying questions about his heritage: Did he live in a teepee on top of a skyscraper? Does he do the rain dance to make the stocks go up? etc. On the way home, the guys answered my 632 questions about NYC. They want us to come visit them and told me I would love it. (My conclusion after hearing what they told me? I am terrified of NYC!! The people up north are very blunt and I know someone would make me cry by the end of the first day!)
Since their flight didn't leave Charlotte until 8pm, we hung out at MJ and KT's house for a while. We went to lunch and shopped. But then, I had to go run some errands, so I didn't go with them to the airport. We hugged good bye, and The Magician told me he wants me to come visit SOON. (He emphasized the 'soon' part. Awww...) KT told me later that on the way to the airport, Rocky kept telling The Magician to marry me, and The Magician said I was a great girl and would make a great girlfriend.
Awww!
Earlier today I asked KT, "Hey, you didn't tell him any of the juicy details I told you, did you? Like, about what I said?" (KT got more details than y'all. Sorry.)
She told me that The Magician asked her the same thing on the way to the airport. How funny! Although KT says she told me everything he said, I guess I will never know....
He didn't ask for my phone number. Which I have mixed feelings about. I'd like to talk to him, but at the same time, let's call it what it really was: a Spring Fling. I mean, people don't start dating in this situation. He lives in NYC, for Pete's sake. It's best to just let it be.
And he doesn't have a myspace page and it's KILLING ME.
Sorry so long, but I seriously had so much fun!!!
My next post is going to be good, too. You see, I didn't even mention the weird dreams I've been having, Toby's trip to the vet, the news about my roommate, or the Hot Neighbor update, now did I?
Tee hee. I'll leave you hanging for now....
Oh, and there is a theme song for this weekend in Charleston. I don't know why (maybe MJ can enlighten me?), but we all kept singing Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" about 400 times at the top of our lungs. At some point, MJ and one of the guys was running down the beach, punching the air while singing it. Who knows. I wasn't there to see it. But that is the soundtrack to this weekend I'm about to tell you about.
MJ and KT are from New York, so they have a group of guy friends who live up there, either in or near NYC. One of them, a textbook "New Yawkah" (a member of the Rat Pack, who visited us last October. I will dub him Rocky) was invited to a wedding in Isle of Palms, one of the swankier parts of Charleston, SC. He took MJ as his date. They invited me and KT to go with them.
Rocky brought his friend (and coworker) The Magician with him. But more about him in a minute... ;)
So we booked an oceanfront hotel room on Isle of Palms, MJ and KT picked up the guys at the Charlotte airport, everyone came to my house to pick me up, and then we headed to Charleston on Friday afternoon. We stopped for lunch on the way and got to Charleston at about 4pm. Our room was nice, but small. And 5 people sharing one small bathroom was a big pain in the ass. But otherwise, it was great being right on the beach. MJ definitely picked a good hotel.
Friday night, MJ and Rocky went to the wedding. While they were there, KT, The Magician and I went to dinner at this WONDERFUL restaurant called Pearlz. I highly recommend it. It's in downtown Charleston. I had this peppercorn tilapia that melted in my mouth, and everyone else's food was great, too. Great service, nice ambiance. (Looking it up just now on Google, I learned it's owned by the same company that owns Liberty's, one of my favorite Columbia restaurants. Go figure.)
The Magician and I were hitting it off. I thought he was cute, right away. Definitely a spark. Actually, right when i was being introduced and shook his hand, I thought, "Ok, I think this is going to be a good weekend!"
Oh Jeez. I just realized Rocky might read MJ's blog, which means he might read this blog...oh dear. Ok, I am going to have to seriously edit this....or get reassurance from MJ that Rocky doesn't read these.
Ok, the 411 on The Magician: he's my age (28), about 6'2", lean without being very muscular. He's got light brown hair and hazel eyes. he's half Native American and half Scottish -- yeah, kind of an interesting combination, I thought. To be honest, I don't think I've ever met anyone who is more than a sprinkle Native American, so it was kind of cool. He can even say some phrases in his people's language. He is a "Wall Street Warrior"-- he works in some big fancy building, doing investment stuff all day. (To my NYC readers-- I am curious -- are there stereotypes about Wall Steeters? Please let me know. I'm sure I would be amused.) He works near where the Twin Towers were, in a building on the 43rd floor. His family is big like mine. He's very funny, smart and charming. Not really my type in some ways, but at the same time, totally my type. (I know, it makes no sense....then again, some of the best things in life make no sense.)
And remember my dry spell, people.
So i was pretty much doomed. Totally powerless, actually.
After dinner, the three of us went to some bars (Southend Brewery...shoot. I can't remember where else...there's a bar I'm forgetting...).
Anyway, The Magician has a guy pal who lives in Charleston, so he and his wife met up with us at Wet Willy's. They are the nicest couple. We were all chatting in the middle of the bar. Eventually, my feet started to hurt, so I went to go sit down in a corner. The Magician went with me.
....and that's when we started making out like teenagers in the middle of Wet Willy's. There is some debate over who kissed who first, but just for the record, it was his idea. He started it.
OMG y'all. It's a good thing I was out of town, because making out in a bar is NOT my thing at ALL. If I had been in Columbia, my face would have been beet red!!! I kept stopping him, saying, "No! I do not make out in bars! I am not that kind of girl! You have to stop!"
But I only sort of half-way meant it, because he is The Greatest Kisser in the World.
Yeah. I was totally powerless. Putty in his hands.
Oh boy.
Of course, KT, being KT, took pictures of us sucking face in a crowded bar. Awesome. I didn't realize until it was too late. If she ever puts them on the Internet, I will die. LOL
By this point, everyone was pretty much drunk (except me, obviously), so we went back to the hotel.
Meanwhile, MJ and Rocky had gotten totally shitfaced at the wedding and passed out at the hotel before they could even meet up with us. Dorks. Plus, they were each hogging a bed. This sort of messed up our plans (nudge nudge). KT hopped in with MJ. The Magician and I tried to move Rocky, but he got kind of pissed when we woke him up. So he and I decided to take a walk on the beach instead of going to sleep.
Yeah. See where this is going? No, not there. Who likes sand up their butt? Not me. Where was I? Oh yes.
Full moon, light breeze, empty beach...we ended up making out again (Seriously, who is this girl, and where is VB??? It's like the college version of myself went to Charleston this weekend.)....and we got so into making out that we ended up falling over.......and laughing our asses off......and getting sand all over us....
Ok. So then we decided it was too cold, so we went back inside. We obviously didn't want to move Rocky, so we inflated the air mattress and..........well, if this was a movie, this is where the screen would fade to black.
So, why am I referring to him as The Magician? This is why. I swear, y'all, it was like he could read my mind -- I would be thinking, "Gee, I wish he would..." and then he would do it. What guy has that ability??? He not only had the ability to read my mind, but he also has the ability to make things disappear. [Ok, that last line is not as perverted as it sounds. But I am not getting into details. I am seriously editing myself, here, people, because I am trying to keep something in my life private. You can use your imagination. We're all adults. We've all been there. If you are really that nosy or dense, just email me. Sheesh. But if it's any consolation, it's really really hard for me not to spill the juicy details. Don't you love that I have a big mouth when it comes to my personal life?]
I can't believe I did that. I haven't hooked up* in a hotel room full of sleeping people since college (but that's another story). Kind of a jerky move, I know. But they were all asleep. And trust me, if you had been in my position, you would have done the same thing. I don't think wild, attacking tigers could have stopped me.
*Remember, my definition of "hooking up" is: anything more than kissing. Which may or may not involve a run around the bases. So you will just have to wonder what I mean. Sorry.
The next morning, Rocky, MJ and KT went to breakfast at 10am. Since The Magician and I had stayed up a little later than them (AHEM), we slept in. Of course, as they were getting ready, KT spilled the beans and they all made fun of us.....oh well. We deserved it.
He and I got up about an hour later, went to lunch, had a good time. Not awkward at all. We went back to the hotel room just as I got a text message from KT: they were all at the beach.
We had the hotel room to ourselves.
Do the math.
Then he and I joined them at the beach, where we all got sunburned, drank beer and ate corn dogs and ice cream.
We went back to the room around 5ish, napped and showered, and then went out again. This time, we went to A.W. Shuck's for dinner, where we had THE WORST SERVICE I've ever had in my life. A quick run-down:
1. Our waitress was rude and told us when SHE was ready to take our order (which was about a half an hour after we got there) -- she pretty much copped an attitude with us the whole time and never removed dirty dishes unless we flagged her down.
2. Three tables (including us) asked restaurant employees to turn off the hurricane-level arctic fan, but no one EVER DID.
3. The guys ordered martinis. They came out with MAYBE 2 sips in them--a total joke. It turns out the bartender was basically giving them each one shot of vodka. And that's all. Which, if you know about martinis, isn't even how you make them. We had to talk to FOUR people (3 of whom argued with us) before getting the drinks fixed. And they still charged us for them anyway.
4. Did I mention it took us 2 and 1/2 hours to get our food? Yeah. Because the drink fiasco took up 45 minutes. This didn't bother me so much as Rocky, so I am including this in the list on his behalf.
5. They messed up splitting our bill, but it didn't really matter, because it all evened out in the end.
Our bill was about $140 and we left $4. Two of us stiffed her. We ALL left notes for her/managers on our credit card slips. NEVER EAT AT THIS PLACE! It was horrible!! The two tables on either side of us had problems, too. We all revolted.
After dinner, we put it all behind us and got drunk again, this time with MJ and Rocky with us. At one point, looking for our next bar, Rocky saw some very tall steps and did a fantastic Rocky impression (hence his name), as we watched and laughed from across the street. We had a great time, but MJ and KT were both sick by this point, so they left early. (MJ has strep throat and KT has a sinus infection/bronchitis. They were miserable for at least half the weekend. But they were troupers. I'll give them that.) I hung out with Rocky and The Magician until the bars closed, having a blast and (again) making out with The Magician while Rocky hit on Charleston girls. He ended up meeting 3 people (a guy and his girlfriend, and another girl who talked like Minnie Mouse) who were also staying at Isle of Palms. We decided to all get a cab together to save money. Ok, Rocky and the people worked it out. The Magician and I were busy sucking face again.
Because it was the Bridge Run weekend, we could NOT find a cab to save our lives. After 45 minutes, we flagged down one. And by "flagged down", I mean that 7 of us surrounded the cab and squished into it before the cabbie could protest. Then we demanded that the cabbie take us to our hotels. He didn't want to do it because he wasn't supposed to have 7 people in his cab. He could get a fine and there were a lot of cops out. Also, he had "just gotten out of jail", which I didn't buy.
We refused to budge, out of sheer desperation. The guy who was with us was SHITFACED, and so he just started handing the cabbie money. "There, that should get us at least across the bridge," he slurred as he handed the cabbie $100.
We were in a cab with Mr. Moneybags! Sweet!
The cabbie told us to be quiet as he accepted the cash. Of course, at 2am, 7 drunk people cannot be quiet, so they all proceeded to talk loudly and at the same time, which made me giggle. It was a very entertaining cab ride.
Yeah, so we got a free cab ride from downtown to Isle of Palms, which is about a 30 minute ride. All we had to do was tip the cabbie. Suh-weet!
Everyone went to sleep. The Magician and I stayed up (Ok, seriously, are you even surprised at this point?). Unfortunately, we were pretty tired at this point, so we kept falling asleep mid-smooch and finally gave up after a while.
The next morning, MJ felt like crap, so she left to go to the doctor's right away. The rest of us took our time going back to Columbia, stopping for breakfast at IHOP. I continued to tease The Magician by asking him annoying questions about his heritage: Did he live in a teepee on top of a skyscraper? Does he do the rain dance to make the stocks go up? etc. On the way home, the guys answered my 632 questions about NYC. They want us to come visit them and told me I would love it. (My conclusion after hearing what they told me? I am terrified of NYC!! The people up north are very blunt and I know someone would make me cry by the end of the first day!)
Since their flight didn't leave Charlotte until 8pm, we hung out at MJ and KT's house for a while. We went to lunch and shopped. But then, I had to go run some errands, so I didn't go with them to the airport. We hugged good bye, and The Magician told me he wants me to come visit SOON. (He emphasized the 'soon' part. Awww...) KT told me later that on the way to the airport, Rocky kept telling The Magician to marry me, and The Magician said I was a great girl and would make a great girlfriend.
Awww!
Earlier today I asked KT, "Hey, you didn't tell him any of the juicy details I told you, did you? Like, about what I said?" (KT got more details than y'all. Sorry.)
She told me that The Magician asked her the same thing on the way to the airport. How funny! Although KT says she told me everything he said, I guess I will never know....
He didn't ask for my phone number. Which I have mixed feelings about. I'd like to talk to him, but at the same time, let's call it what it really was: a Spring Fling. I mean, people don't start dating in this situation. He lives in NYC, for Pete's sake. It's best to just let it be.
And he doesn't have a myspace page and it's KILLING ME.
Sorry so long, but I seriously had so much fun!!!
My next post is going to be good, too. You see, I didn't even mention the weird dreams I've been having, Toby's trip to the vet, the news about my roommate, or the Hot Neighbor update, now did I?
Tee hee. I'll leave you hanging for now....
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