dates gone awry III

I have Lubbock trip pictures, but not with me and I was just reminded of this other horrible "date".

So, as we all know, I was a waitress at the local olive garden for a long 4 months. during this time I came across some memorable characters. This guy, however was not. If it weren't for this night of torture, engrained in my mind - he would be forgotten very easily.

Tony, Ian, sarah and I were all going to eat mexican food when we got off of work. It was sort of exciting because it would have been my inagrual event out with coworkers - in atempts to make friends.
I happen to get cut before all three of them, though, so I go home to work out and shower before we meet up.
Tony calls
"you ready to eat?"
"yeah, are y'all headed over there"
"yeah, see you there in a little bit."

so I go to the restaurant.
What do I find?
Tony.
just Tony.

Pause = Now - let me paint a mental picture, if you will, of my impression of Tony up until this point.

Tall. Thin. Okay looking face. nothing extra ordinary. always smiling. usually dancing and humming. hard worker. minimal complaints.

okay, un-pause =

So when, Tony called earlier he failed to mention that the other two bailed and it would be just me and him. Had he done so I would have passed as well. I didn't want exactly what happened to happen.
Since I had driven all the way there and was hungry and didn't really see a graceful way to exit, I stayed.

I kid you not - throught the next 7 hours - yes, seven, I said maybe three whole sentences. Not because I was withdrawn or shy - but because there simply wasn't any opportunity to get a word in edgewise.

So we sit at this dumpy tex-mex place where Tony tells me too much of his gruesome past. And he turns out to be a know-it-all to the maxX.
He says that he knows the guys in the back and they make special hot sacue just for him, because their regular sauce isn't hot enough.
He proceeds to tell me everything he knows about peppers and spicy stuff (not knowing that I've done research projects on capsaicin and could run him into the ground on chili and pepper trivia. fyi)
So he gets the waiter (who, by the way, happens to be the boyfriend of a guy we work with at the olive garden) to go get his "special sauce"
I try one dip of it - gag. all it is, is tabasco mixed with the regular salsa. Not a good idea. no way.
So I tell him that's what I think it is, and he acted like I was insulting him..... and his stupid sauce.
Then we had to get up twice during the meal so I could go stand outside with him and watch him smoke cigarettes.
So three hours later it looks like we are finally going to bring it to a close. I get out my purse to pay and he grabs the ticket and hands it to the waiter before I could say "smoker's breath".
Then it happens.
Some how he invites himself over to my apartment. As I sit and rack my brain, sweating bullets, trying to think of a was out he continues to talk and rapidly shuts down any avenue of escape.

I still can't remember what all was said - it's a blur - but the boy has skills. if a manipulative little turd is what you're looking for, he's your man.

Backtrack<<< we had spent a significant amount of time during the meal "talking" (he did most of the takling) about why I don't party hard and do drugs like the rest of the wait staff. And why I am not really attracted to alcohol.

So he comes over to my house under the pretenses of teaching me some tricks on the bass. just ask him - he knows everything there is to know about music and theory. just ask him. i dare you.

low and behold he has a six pack of corona with him when he comes up the stairs.

To make a four or five hour long story short - he proceeds to offer me beer every ten minutes, spills two different beers on my carpet. jams out in his own little world and sings some really dirty crappy songs he wrote for about and hour and a half. smokes what's left of his pack of cigarettes and some of a new pack. blows his nasty @$$ smoke onto the leaves of my pride-and-joy porch plants. talks non-stop for the entire four or five hours he remained. leaving no luls for me to kick him out with out being a total jerk - which in retrospect - I don't even care, I should have interrupted him, or better yet, took off when I found out it would be just me and him.
ruddy con artist has to trick people into dates.

anywho - he disclosed a lot of history on him self, his family, what it was like to grow up in a meth lab, how he felt when his quadriplegic step father passed away, why he drinks no less than a six pack a day, why he decided to be a waiter instead of an architect or a lawyer - like he has the ability to be. why he dropped out of highschool (fyi because it wasn't challenging enough, and then later his lips were looser and it turns out he was kicked out for seriously burning another kid.) blah blah blah blah.

Imagine any body language that would scream "I'M NOT INTERESTED AND I WANT YOU TO SHUT UP AND GO AWAY. I THINK YOU'RE FULL OF $@!*" and I was doing it all. crossed legs, crossed arms. staring at the floor - until I started staring out the window, just grunting anytime a response was required, yawing (even some fake yawing), blinking and rubbing my eyes, body angled away from him.... and on and on.....

so finally he's going to leave and I say
"don't forget your beer"
he gives a little trying to be salty smile and says
"I'll come back for it"
then heads down the stairs
oh no sir... no you don't
so i sprint over grab the remaing two brews from the fridge and chase him down the stairs. I push them into his skinny chest
"you should probably just take them now"
he hangs his head and continues his descent, beer in hand.

so that was a life-sucking, miserable, beating of an experince, but not entirely over.
I still had to work with the guy.
The next day he waits til a bunch of other waiters are around to ask me "did you have a good time last night"
I just boldfaced looked at him and said "no, not really"

Then for the next month or so he progressively gets more insulting and hostile towards me. he said some degrading and dumb @$$ stuff that made me want to punch his smug little head.

anyways.
I am putting this in the dates gone awry section of my life - but let there be no mistake it was not a date in my eyes. I only call it that because he paid for the food. against my will.
jerk.

homeward bound

The black and the grey, marred by yellow and white, call me "dear,come hither".
The hills, the plains, home to cars and trains
winding across its face they slither.

The big sky country with its loud booming voice
echos in my heart leaving me no choice
but to go
go

I treasure these hills, these trees, these rivers
but away I am called, "come hither, come hither"

Deep is the only way to breathe
when crossing these lands like seas
the sights and the glory
the old and new stories

my head fills with memories of beauty and pain
they built this character with everything to gain

the loss i have suffered from ignorant intent
has caused only a moment of solitary lament

the new days keep coming; causing the old to wither
they beckon me forth, "come hither, come hither"

whether here or there, near or far
my dark will always be light
take the bad with the good, the lesson from the scar
and the day will soon follow night

haha.
remember these? people paid lots of money for them.
idiots.




i want one.

dates gone awry II

It could hardly be cosidered a summer romance.
I don't even recall why I consented. I do recall that I was staying at my sister and brother in law's house in South Dallas. And when he came to pick me up my brother was acting like he didn't care because he didn't want the dunder-head getting the idea that it was a date.

So we meet his friends at taco bell. classy. He doesn't even offer or make it to where it was implied that he would fork out a whole 4 dollars for my meal.
oh oh wait... rewind....
So we meet his friends at taco bell. as we are all trailing in, boy walks infront of me AND not only does he not hold the door, he actually drops it on me.
#$%^&
so he doesn't pay. usually I don't even bring money on dates because I don't think the invitee should be expected to pay.
but thankfully I did bring cash or I may have starved to death. TO DEATH.

so blah blah we eat the dilectable offerings of the taco bell and mozy on the the concert we had all planned on seeing.
I use the term concert loosely.
it was in a stip-mall, hollowed out store front. low cielings. horrible acustics. and a cover charge.
great.

there was a girl there that I knew, so I took refuge in her company for the duration of this "concert" (for lack of a better word)

then, just when I thought me and my broke self were going to be carted back to the house.... a moments notice change in the plans occured.

We all head over to boy's friends' house to watch Donnie Darko.

Now I realize that plenty of people love this movie. I don't realize why, though.

take time travel, death, and a big bunny with a scary face and you've got donnie darko.

possibly the worst movie ever.

this opinion may be tainted by the far from pleasant build up - but it also may just be a crappy movie.

Then, finally. after a gruling two hours of wishing I had my own wheels to be able to get the heck out of there, my chance came.

But then it was quickly detoured when boy and his dumb A friends found some firecrackers.

Then they started lighting them.

in the living room.

so now I was broke, depressed, and my life was in danger.

"Yeah I had a great time. Tomorrow? sure!"

dates gone awry

so let's go ahead and spill our guts. I've had some fairly miserable date experiences in my day. I planned on going down the list of them as an overview - then I thought it would be more fun to explain the stories. so we'll start with the cake topper so if I loose steam on this topic it will at least have been somewhat worth it.

There I was a young girl at the age of nineteen. Working in a cigar shop and living beyond my years.
A group of three guys came into the store one day. I don't recall their faces or names, save one, but I do recall thinking there was one that was not bad looking and they were collectively entertaining.

A day or two later the store phone rings, it's for me.
The low voice of Austin Chote came over the line, "I was in the store a few days ago, you may not remember me. I was with my goofy friends. anyways, I would like to know if you'd have dinner with me."

I agree, putting all my chips on the fact that it was the good looking one.

The day of the date comes. He is scheduled to come pick me up from work to go eat and to a movie. I start to become more aware of the fact that I can't remember exactly what he looks like and am hoping that this lapse of memory doesn't cause catastrophe.

I go to leave and meet him in the parking lot.
Instead of a white steed - it's a white truck.
Instead of a knight in shining armor - It's a tall man with an obscenely shiney face and oversized shiny bling necklace. The necklace is in clear view because his shirt is unbuttoned a few too many revealing his chest hair as well.

So he opens the door for me and then goes around the back of the truck to his side. I quickly get all of me gross out faces out of the way with a few gag noises.
He gets in and we're off.

Turns out he's 29. a mere decade older then myself. he sold insurance. and acted like he was guilty of something when he found out I was only 19.

We met his married couple friends at TX Land and Cattle. Apparantly these are the ones he spend all his time with ... playing video games...

So I sure did order steak.

Anyways. The dinner was painful and absolute misery.

We finally make it through and he asks if I want to go to a movie. I said, "no".
So he asks if he can call again
"no"

Whew.

That may have been the single most awkward night in my life. but it only supported my theory that my life is a rediculous comedy. If someone had hidden cameras with me all the time - we could make a mint.


There are definitely more stories of equal caliber... but none of which will be presently disclosed.

weekend checklist

buy lost of clothes that I don't necessarily need, nor did I plan to buy them - check

trim tree braches with a pair of loppers and make my armpit muscles really sore - check

try liver and onions off an old woman's plate at Luby's - check

tell a complete stranger that I have been sweating all day, nonstop - check

put away the mountain of laundry that had been stomped down to a hill because a week ago I felt the need to put it in my path to the closet so I would be sure and put it away in a timely manner - check

eat an entire box of Godiva chocolates - check

think about how much I need to run/excercise - check

carve a pumpkin - check

forget to get contact solution and be forced to soak my contacts in eyedrops instead - check

fill up my contact case with eye drops - one drop at a time - check

Go see a poorly executed movie based on an incredible story from the Bible - check

make fun of the movie - check

feel guilty for making fun of the movie - check

Get over the guilt, I was making fun of the movie, not the story... - check

justify making fun of the movie - check

make a long rediculous check list - check

artsy

Iced-Tea Tee

Well, There's a new love in my life.
His name is Ice-Tea, the beverage not the rapper slash actor. (although he's an integral character on one of my favorite shows shows)
I have realized my addiction is proving my infidelity to the former lover in Diet Coke. But we still talk.
Tea, (that's his nick name), has so many varients and options. I feel like our relationship is a lot more free and adventurous than the other.
The flavor of choice is most often hibiscus mint. But today I experienced the joy of blackberry jasmine.
At first I thought people were just sticking random combinations of fruit and plants on labels and they were really all the same. but in the course of a month, my palet has been refined.

But with this pleasure doth come pain



I don't know where to begin. Obviously, If I will be drinking 50 bajillion cups of tea (give or take a few) I will be making 50 bajilolion trips to the little nun's room (subtle tribute to whoopie in sister act part 1).

The path to said destination is wrought with obsticles.
1 - my delightful beaded curtain door to my cube. I'll admit that i sometimes get tangled up in it in all my haste.
2 - the overly decorative tile work in the lobby. it doesn't only look rugged - it might as well be cobblestone. this isn't a huge problem until it meets the soles of my high heeled shoes. which I wear more often than not. then disaster is only a mis-step away.
3 - the face-level air freshening sprayer (mentioned in the 'out to get me' post)
4 - the daunting stares of creepy-bob in the neighboring cubicle.
"take a picture, it'll last longer - buddy"

This leads me to the subject of Bob.

What about Bob?

For fear that he may one day stumble upon this entry (and that is very fearful)
I will not express all of my opinions on the matter.
I will say
Bob has 40 lbs dumbells in his cubicle
Bob calls is mom "mummy" all of the 27 times she calls him or he calls her daily
Bob has a boat. Just ask him. he will probablly have a photograph on hand that he will show you - and then you will, 35 minutes later, know everything about Bob's boat. Incidentally, Bob's mom is Bob's boating partner.
Bob wears a cartoon-sized, super shiney, silver chain on the outside of his shirts.
Bob is kind of creepy. especially when I get up and turn around and he is peeking over the top of my cubicle. Not a a funny -ha- ha type of creepy joke. But because that's what he was doing when I turned around.
Bob made a comment on my bosses attire and got reprimanded.
I fully realize that with all the data I have collected about Bob - it may look like I'm the creepy one. But trust me. I am sure everyone in our prarie-dog town cubicle block knows all about Bob.
Bob talks a lot. and Bob talks loud.

When I die

I don't know when or where I'll die, or who I'll leave behind...
I don't want to know.
But what I do know is that I want to be celebrated. I was just thinking about all this because I heard a guy talking about getting his dogs ashes made into a frisbee. Most people would think that would be strange to play with a dead dog... uh yeah, that sounded strange.

But as far as people go... when you die that body isn't you. I don't believe it is, anyways. What makes you you is not in your flesh suit and physical appearance. (does anyone remember the days of "character counts"?) So why the heck would I want for those I leave behind to spend lots of money to get pretty box and a plot of land to put a corpse into for "safe keeping"? I would rather them use that money to enjoy their lives. Besides that body won't be me anyways.

It would be a nice thought to be "laid to rest" in a beautiful serene place that my survivors would enjoy going to remember me - but I am pretty sure as beautiful as any place will be here on earth - it won't compare to the beauty of the place I am going.

I like the idea of memorials like school libraries or wings of museums or park benches or random sculptures in the middle of cities... these are great ways to remember people. it has nothing to do with their body. But with their soul. and plus I would want whatever is being used to remember me to be functional in enriching and enhancing the lives of others.
As for my corpse, donate it to science, let it be used as a resource to help future doctors learn. It doesn't really matter to me what you do with it.. it's not me.

Anyways. That's enough of that....

here's some interestin reading

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2002/08/14/BA158892.DTL

ACL

What is the deal with me always doing a thumbs up? Who told me that was cool? why did all of you let me continue? why?

Bienvenito a miami

Just got home from Miami last night. A whirl wind trip evoking a wide range of thought and emotion.
Basically I went on business with about a thousand other people from all over the country. We attended a fancy dinner and a 10 hour long conference to get all pumped for the fourth quarter.
I simultaneously was disgusted, intrigued, amazed and infuriaated bu corperate america.

but all the while it was set to the backdrop of beautiful Miami and South Beach.

Everything was straight from a movie, so it seemed. During our semi formal dinner/awards banquet there was a one Dan Marino as the keynote speaker. bizarro. At one point I leave to go to the bathroom and upon re-enrty I nearly run into a man in a business suite sitting atop the shoulders of another man, in a business suit. He was ferociously waving his arms and in competition with the entirety of the audience to catch one of the 20 or so footballs mr Marino was chucking into a dining room filled with tabled, waitstaff, glassware and lights/sound equipment. What?????
the barnum and bailey circus was no match....

There was a myriad of wack-o things along those lines....

But there was also rediculously, pinch me and wake me, surreal moments.
Like when I got up at seven thirty the last morning to go run down the beach and take it in before I had to pack and get ready to go.

I go out to the waterfront and am greeted by a stern wind. Infront o me lay the ocean in all its turqoise and deep blue beauty. above that is the brightest coral colored strip of sky oozing out from beneath an ominous black cloud. the black cloud is connected back to the sea by a thick grey band of rain. above the black it gradually grows lighter and then you see the mountainous top of the storm cell being illuminated from behind by the sames source causeing the coral color to glow. Awesome. So I run down the way about a mile before I feel like I might as well try and breath underwater. the humidity is wors than back home...
I take off the ol' shoes and prance around in the warm ocean water for a bit and then start to head back. Before I know it I had filled one shoes completely with peices of insanely beautiful sea shells. and then it started to sprinkle. I look up and out to the storm that I first saw and it was closer and faster than I would have thought. It nearly staggered me with its power and intensity. The I start to see the lightning. It is striking its targets dead on. The rain gets harder and harder. With only a quarter mile left to go I decide to take my time. By the time I get back to the hotel gate the down pour is torrential. it stings. but it feels so great. I realize that somewhere along the way I dropped my room key to get throught the gate. There didn't appear to be any cabana boys in site so I jump the fence. No problem, I was just afriad of dropping my shoe ful of sea shells - say that ten times fast.

When I got just past the pool I was welcomed by a cabana boy holding two giant soft towels. one to dry off with and one to keep warm with... now that's what I call service.....
speaking of which, later that morning I go to check out. The girl at the desk is sugary kind and accomidating I tld her I still had five hours before I needing to go to the airport. She ushered my luggage into a safe room and then gave me pool access keys and told me to enjoy the rest of my stay.

I go to lay by the pool for a while and oscar the cabana boy shows me to the chair of my choosing, lays a dry cushion on the chair, covers that with a plushy sham, the rolls and folds a towel for a pillow. He then reappears peridically to make sure I am comfortable. Brings me a magazine and water..... nice.
Then my dear friend and boss comes to join me. Her cabana usher doesn't offer a cushion tossed the sham over the chair and wads up the towel to nearly resemble osacrs perfect pillow-roll. then walks off without two words said. I crack up about it. Later we go to get our luggage to catch the bus. The bellman totes all my bags to the cargo area, and again, my dear friend gets the shaft and is left to take care of her own...
sad sort of. but also sort of hilarious.

anywho - here are a couple of pictures from miami.
peace