kerewin's whine cellar

A Series of Unfortunate Events

The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

The Thursday before leaving for New York, I was very making sure all my work was done before leaving town. It was a bad traffic day, both for speediness and parking issues. At my first stop of the day, after driving around for fifteen minutes, I finally found a spot. I had to park downwards on a steep hill. So, I left my car in gear, a rarity for me. Got into the restaurant a few minutes late, had a strange visit, but it resulted in a placement so I couldn’t’ complain. Got back out to my car, put the wine away, got in, looked down and thought, “Oh look, the car is already in reverse!” Started the car and let out the E-brake and fed the car a little extra gas because I was trying to reverse on a hill. Too bad the car was in first gear, I lurched forward and smacked the car ahead of me pretty well. So with shaky hands and a lurching stomach I got out and looked at both car bumpers. I hit the car ahead of me with my license plate only and disturbed some dust on both cars. I looked pretty good and I didn’t see anything to worry about. Whew!

As I got into my car to drive away I noticed a pedestrian writing my license plate number down. So I got back out and explained to her that I checked both bumpers and they looked fine so I didn’t think it was any big deal. She just kind of looked at me like I was an asshole and said, “Well it is a government car, and I work for the government so I think a lot of people just walk away from things like that.” I told her I would leave my own note and that seemed to satisfy her and she walked away. Dutifully I left a note, name, number, small explanation. For the rest of the day, every time my phone rang, I thought I was going to throw up.*

At the end of my work day I hurried home to wash clothes for my trip. As usual, I left it until the last minute. This is the time that our washer decided to break, with half of my trip clothes in the machine, all soapy and wet. I thought I had merely underloaded it and it got out off center. (Hi, this is a front loader, do they do that?) So I put a bunch more clothes and soap in, and started it over. No dice. I dried what I could and ended up taking some work clothes along, instead.**

My flight left for New York at midnight, so by 10 p.m. I was starting to get antsy, but the Hub was still dicking around on his computer saying, “Don’t worry, right after I finish this, just another minute.” Whenever he says that I know that I have at least ten minutes to kill. With the car bumping and the broken wash machine it had been a somewhat stressful day so I decided I deserved a glass of wine. I go pour myself a half glass of wine, my only for the evening. Perhaps I should have been drinking since the machine broke down? I go into the computer room and set the glass of wine next to my computer and turn to talk to the Hub and just catch the edge of the glass and send it flying. Flying all over my laptop. It was shut down, yet open, because I am stupid like that. Exactly like parking with your car in gear. Luckily, so I thought, I had a skin over my keyboard and that’s where all the wine landed. I get a towel, wipe everything down, pull off the skin and wash it and set it out to dry. Looks like everything is fine so I go off to NYC feeling as if I had narrowly averted disaster.***

The Monday after I get back from work I decide to update my handheld work computer from home. I plug it into the phone, update it and then the badass thing freezes up. I reset it and lost all my data. I then had to spend 2 hours at the office the next day getting it fixed. Luckily I didn’t lose any orders. Just my sanity.

*The driver of the car never calls back, so I feel very correct in assuming I didn’t do any damage. The one highlight of my fucked up day.

**The Hub calls Sears and gets us an appointment to get the machine fixed the following Monday. He even works from home part of the day so there is someone there when the guy arrives. Except that he doesn’t. Whoever took our call never set our appointment up. So I call them and they say we can’t get an appointment for another two weeks. I get all Customer Service Bitchy and tell them I am not waiting for an appointment when we already HAD one and in any other business they would have a tech out the next day, during a time that would fit OUR schedule. They put us on a waiting list for the next day and PROMISE they will call us later that night to let us know when someone is coming. Of course, no one calls and when we call back the next day, they say they are coming anytime between 1pm and 5pm. HA! Since we can’t swing that between our schedules, we have to make an appointment for Saturday, May 7. Dude shows up, takes 2 minutes to look at our washer only to tell us the part we need has to be ordered. Yet, another week to wait. Which is why I am typing this from a local laundromat. [It has been called to my attention that this sentence indicates that the local laundromat has wifi. It is unfortunately untrue, I was hoping to pull from some neighbor's network. Instead I had to type this out on Word and wait to get home and post it.]

*** Turns out some of the wine seeped into the little grill at the hinge and ruined the monitor. Rather it ruined some light in the monitor but the gist is that it is $600 to fix. I have a 12”, dvd/cdr combo drive, 20g hd, 600 mhz iBook that is a few years old, clearly. For $650 we could buy a refurbished 14”, dvd/cdr combo drive, 30g hd, 800mhz iBook. The choice was clear, but again, there was a week’s wait for the computer to come from Portland, Oregon. It is here, and after a very easy data swap, the whole thing looks and feels like my old computer, but with 10g more hard drive space.

Can I be done, now?

Is NOW good enough?

When would be a good time for the (relatively) new washing machine to stop working? When it is full of clothes that I want to take to NYC with me this weekend?

Apparently that would be the best time to stop working. Guess I am buying some new clothes when I get there.

See you all Monday!

(the Hub saved the day [sorta] by not only calling the repair people and setting up and apppointment, he also remembered to extend the warranty on our 3 year-old machine, hooray for men!)

I Was In Ballard After All

I was getting low on fuel today and after work drove over to Doctor Dan's to get myse'f some biodiesel. Since it isn't your typical gas station and you prepay for your fuel (in 40 gallon increments!) you get a key to let you into the little trailer that holds said biodiesel.

There are a few rules and procedures to do before and after you get your fuel. Turn a key, zero out the meter, turn on the pump thingee, when done you mark down how much you used, etc. While I am doing this I get two calls on my cell phone and I get a little distracted. I also had to call the Hub to find out how much biodiesel we had left on our account. I go to get in the car. No keys. Turns out I left them in the hutch. So, duly embarrassed I get my keys out and then get in the Beetle and take off.

Four blocks later I glance in the right side rearview mirror. Oh shit! I left the gas door open and the gas cap off. So I stop to fix the problem and feel a deep relief that no one caught this silliness of mine. Then the Cell rings, it is the Hub.

"Hello?"

"Hey, you need to fix your gas cap."

(pause)
(look around)

"Um, how did you know?"

"Doctor Dan's just called to let me know I didn't get my gas cap on. I told them it couldn't be me and they asked if I had a yellow Beetle, so I told them it must be you."

Looks like I can pretty much just shrivel up and die now.

Not Down For The Count

Just overbooked right now. More after this weekend is over.

This is as if to tell you, you suck

Alright, alright, I hear you internet! It is time to update. Every day for the last week and a half or so I have heard and told about 8 billion funny, good internet potential stories. I have talked sex, I have cooked my brain out, I have laughed, yelled and cried. Have I told you about it? No, because I am a lazy slog.

There was a very amusing anecdote wherein my sister, H-star, told a story that involved burning her "cookie" the first time she used a bidet. I, myself, tried to convince her to use the word "coochie" because it is much funnier. However, she was having none of it. She was especially grossed out by my further suggestion of "taco". I mean, it kinda looks that way, doesn't it? You have to think hard taco, though, because soft taco is just too gross.

Here is a fact that came up that evening as well: Whenever you travel to another country, you will always come away with a poop story. Therefore, even though I already printed this, ahem, a couple of times, here is my olden and golden story about pooping in Argentina:. (that link will send you to the MUCH, much longer and definitely more boring story of my flight to Argentina and then my first night)

Had a great time talking (as much as was possible) to all the people and we stayed up pretty late. I got a chance to show them my laptop (showoff, I couldn’t even wait one day, I had even told myself that I wouldn’t bring it out about 20 minutes before) and pictures and it was a very pleasant evening. They showed me the room I would sleep in and the little bathroom just off of it. I was made to understand that the little bathroom was only for when the other was occupied and it was emergency status. One note about Argentina, and most likely any other South American country, no one EVER sleeps. Everyone in the house was up past midnight and I finally said I had to hit the hay.

One thing about flying, there are always people waiting in line for the bathrooms so it is kind of embarrassing to stink one up, plus I have performance anxiety, so it just isn’t even possible for me to, to, ummm, well, YOU KNOW. Then I was whisked right away onto the sightseeing journey and then another plane and THEN a house full of strangers, none of whom would go to bed. There was not a chance to go, as my friend Gareth said, “Oh lord, just say it..poo!” So I woke on Saturday at 6am having not gone, ummmm, you know, poo, for a good 2 days. Well, a small private bathroom that no one ever uses, early enough in the morning for it to clear up of smell, sounds like just the right kind of emergency for me. Afterwards I felt sooooooooooooooooooo much better. Until I went to flush. Hmmmmm, where the hell was the handle? For that matter where the hell was the tank? It was just a toilet connceted to the wall. I found several faucet handles, but upon further inspection none of them were for flushing. There was a hole in the wall above the toilet and I looked into it, hmmm the tank! Behind the wall and seems to be missing its lid. It looked like it had been made in 1899 but at least I was onmy way to a solution. However I haven’t ever flushed a toilet without the handle before and didn’t have a single clue as how to operate one. I kinda pushed and pulled at some wires. No go.

I see the foater thing that goes down when you flush the toilet (you know the thing that measures the water level and shuts the water off when the tank is full?) well I was exausted of other ideas so I pushed it down. Hard enough to make it stay down, not too hard though, remember this is an antique. Well it stayed down and the water in the tank turned on and no big surprise, the toilet didn’t flush. What brilliance! I mean, if I had been thinking about, I would have known that would happen. Who was thinking though?

So the toilet doesn’t flush and the tank is filling up, oh SHIT, literally. What to do now? I try to pull the floater thing up, to shut off the water, nope. Mess with a few of the wires and this has the exact same response as before, nothing. And now the water is starting to overflow!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh SHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT. What a great morning.

So I give in and go out into the living room. It is my one lucky break that Sergio just happened to be awake (didn’t I tell you these people never sleep?). So I asked him for help (actually upon reflection I realized that I said, “I need to help” but he got the idea). The first thing Sergio does is pull some little wire sticking out in the front that any sane person would have realized was the way to flush the toilet. Then he spends about 2 more cycles of flushing and filling getting the plunger thing to come back up. Apparently there used to be a full wall and a little button to push to flush the toilet, but it broke and they had to break into the wall, probably the reason few people used that bathroom. Anyway, I couldn’t have been MORE embarrassed, but Sergio was really really cool about it. I have the suspicion that he doesn’t realize that I shoved that plunger thing down, or maybe he does.

This is the Way it Goes

I talked today to the corporate wine buyer about general grocery/wine/work issues. At the end of our discussion I asked him if he knew I had given notice and that my last day was Friday.

He said, "I had heard that, but I was hoping you had changed your mind."

Here's a clue, if someone you want to keep employed gives notice, you arrange a meeting with them and give a counter offer. You don't just sit in your office far, far away and HOPE that person changes their mind.

The Things You Think About Before Bed

Last night as we were drifting off to sleep my mind was kind of caught on this odd topic. So I decided to ask the Hub about it. He probably wasn't too keen on talking since he was almost asleep but he humored me.

"So, I was thinking, H-star (sister) was telling me how beautiful she thought I was, and I don't really feel that way. I am pretty disappointed in my body shape and weight and I think it probably prejudices people's thinking. On the other hand, I get along with people really well and I have lots of friends, so maybe there is something to it."

The Hub responded, "Oh no, you aren't getting me in that trap, you just want me to say you are ugly and then you are going to get mad at me."

"No you JERK! I was trying to get you to tell me I was beautiful!"

"Oh, well you are."

"It doesn't count if you have to be told to say it, Dumas."

The Spilling of the Guts

Now that I have the freedom to speak about it, let me just say, I don't really enjoy working in a grocery store. Being a wine buyer in an upscale chain isn't too bad. There are lots of perks: free lunches, lots of wine and beer to sample, dealing with lots of really cool vendors, selling wine to nice people. Even making displays and writing signs is at least interesting. I really loved my regulars who let me pick out interesting bottles of wine for them to try.

However, the stocking of the shelves is dull, dull, dull. Helping customers find things in the rest of the store and leading the customer to it* was sheer drudgery. But the worst, most hated part of my job was restocking the beer cooler. We carry a lot of beer and it is all jumbled together on 4-5 different pallets in the back. Monotonous, mind-numbing work. By the way, grocery stores are cold. All. The. Time.

*I HATE leading the customer to it! I hate being led to it when I am in a different store. I would prefer to be pointed in the right direction. It feels like you are really interupting someone when they take you to your destination. Although maybe that is better than stocking beer! Every meeting I ever attended focused on this idea. LEAD THE CUSTOMER TO IT! Apparently, that is good customer service. I wonder if they market tested it, if people would really much rather be left the hell alone?

Corporate big-wigs who change the store directives can be frustrating**, but what can you expect from a company where the owner would rather hide in a corner at an employee-appreciation party, than talk to anyone? Oh, and can I say, employee year-end parties? The booze should be free, at least the first two drinks!

**One month I am authorized to sign checks for wine deliveries, the next, just the Store Directors, the month after that, suddenly I am authorized again. People, get it STRAIGHT!

There were so many days when I would walk through the store and see department managers stocking shelves. Just when do you get high enough up to stop doing that? Hell, even the Store Directors have to build displays. Don't get me wrong, I think there is a beauty to the idea of, I won't ask anyone to do something I refuse to do, but puhhhuhlease!

And just WHAT is up with the grocery store-only lingo? Store Directors, internal customers, P.I.C.s (person in charge)????? Can't we all just call them General Managers, employees, and M.I.C. (or M.O.D. manager of the day)?

Until January 6, 2005, I was content to be quietly discontent about all of this ("How's your job?" "Great," I lied.). Remember back when I was so excited about my looming promotion? Each month when I asked, all the store directors would say, "Yes, you are the manager. We aren't looking for anyone else. We don't know why H.R. is being so slow." This was compounded by the fact that Store Directors were dropping like flies (hi, like 4 new ones in 5 months), so it would take awhile with a new one before I would ask about the promotion.

For four months, I hired and trained wine department staff, I made all the buying decisions, attended management-only seminars and HR meetings. I even ran two inventories! After all this, after taking us through the three biggest wine-buying holidays of the year, having the best gross margin in the company for December, turning in the best inventory of all the other stores at the end of the quarter, after working both New Year's Day and the day after for said inventory (and giving my staff those days off), after being the only store who was trending up in sales above last year, after all that I got a call.

The company finally wanted to let me know I was up for a "positive change" at the store. "We want you to keep doing what you are doing. You have such great customer service, you're so good at selling wine and your wine knowledge is incredible. You're just lacking some retail experience." My fomer Store Director turned Corporate flunky let me know that they were putting a different person into the Wine Manager position at my store. During a corporate downsizing they had this 20-year loyal employee whose position was eliminated and they wanted to keep him, and he had all this knowledge from running the wine departments in the past, and he was just SURE this guy had forgotten more about retail than most people ever know. This was the positive move they had in mind. To take away all the things I loved about my job, and leave me with stocking. After I got off this call, I cried for hours. By not giving me the supposed promotion, I actually received a demotion, because of the simple fact that I had been the manager the last four months. Not only that, I achieved miracles for them, with VERY little training. Just how did they expect me to take this well?

I still ponder this thought. Why color it pretty for me? Why not say it outright, "This is a sucky thing, and we don't have much choice, but we have a plan, and we think you are REALLY valuable and want to keep you. In 5 months time..........." No. They had to tell me how positive this move was for me. After crying, I then dusted off the resume and made a few calls. My whole family (inlaws too, of course!) were pissed for me and they all said, "This is happening for a reason." When you are in your darkest days it is very difficult to see this as true.

Before I looked for a job as a wine buyer in a grocery store, I was the manager and wine buyer in a restaurant. I decided to look for new work and instead of applying for any wine rep jobs, I felt I wasn't quite qualified and went looking for retail experience. So after January 6th, I decided to forget about retail and focus on my real desire, wine sales. Turns out that January is the perfect month to look for this particular type of job, as the slow month is when people jump around. I made four phone calls and landed four interviews. Now I have my dream job and I have to say it would have been a lot harder if I was searching any other month of the year.

So speaking of karma and things happening for a reason, I was thinking today about how, for me, karma isn't a slow process. It usually runs into mere minutes. I think negative thoughts about an employee and then burn myself at work, for instance.

So today I was moving a beer display and dropped a 12-pack of beer, which exploded everywhere. Watching was my new (as of January 7th) Store Director and new Grocery Manager (who was well loathed in his former position as head of checkers at his last store, and is BIGTIME buddies with the new Director). They saw what happened, and instead of going to get some floor signs, or a trash bag for the broken bottles, they hightailed out to the backroom to have a smoke out the door. Ass.holes. I was SO pissed! Fast forward an hour, new Grocery Manager is building a pasta and pasta sauce display. He drops a case of tomato sauce and it explodes. All. Over. Him. Do I turn away? Not a chance, why would I want to get something even worse back? Instead I head over with some floor signs as people come running to help. He says to me, "I guess that serves me right for laughing at you when you broke that beer earlier."

Oh! and I forgot.....

I am forever sending emails off only to realize, "Oh! I forgot something" and then having to send a backup email right after. Then realizing that I have forgotten something ELSE and having to send yet ANOTHER email, after awhile I just leave it out, because......How stupid do I really want to look?

So, how could I ever have forgotten that Quetzl loved to sit in boxes?

It Wasn't a "Put Your Hands In The Air" Type Thing

Well that was an interesting afternoon. I was stuck for 2 hours in an HR meeting for my company, then I went to a fabulous lunch at a fabulous restaurant with two of my wine industry friends. Yes, of COURSE we had wine.

On our way out the door we ran into another wine rep/friend and had some good convo, which led me to the thought that I hadn't talked to yet ANOTHER mutual wine rep friend lately, so I got my cell phone out of my little purse. We were walking out of the restaurant, so I slung the strap over my head and to my other shoulder. Then deciding that I wasn't going to call that friend after all, I went to put my cell phone back.

NO PURSE.

None, gone. We walked the half block back to the restaurant in a daze and the whole time my friends were asking me where I could have left it, I was thinking to myself, "but, but, but.....I put it over my shoulder!" Still, I was in shock and wasn't 110% sure, you know how habitual stuff tends to seem a lot like Groundhogs Day (THE MOVIE, DUH).

Then we step out and this hired limo driver guy asks us if one of us lost a purse, cause he saw some guy bend down and pick one up and wander off. I remember putting it over my head on the opposite shoulder, it couldn't have just slipped off, so it had to be a slash and grab thing.

How is this possible? I have travelled extensively in many countries with lots of thievery warnings; Argentina, Southern France, just recently in Spain. I haven't EVER EVER EVER ever been robbed before. How come it just happened in my own city?????????

Just a few days ago the thought was spinning in my head about those other countries and robbery and how the people in those cities weren't worried about their belongings. I was relegating all those stories into some idea of Urban Thief Legends. Speaking of urban thieves......sigh.

So I have finished calling the police (not like it matters, I never saw the guy), and cancelling credit/debit cards, I visited my bank, and now here I am, cardless, cashless, driver's license-less...............my ass is screwed for at least 5-10 business days. What an idiot! At least I tanked the car up yesterday, not that I should be driving.

BAH!

Weird side note: When you call the companies to report lost or stolen cards the customer service people always say, "Oh my gosh! I am sorry, I hope you are ok!" and all I could think was, "Hey, I was lucky. I didn't even know I was getting robbed, save your sympathy for the people who really need it."

But then I thought, "Hey! I was the victim, a little sympathy can't be such a bad thing." That was when I started to tear up, just a little. I am a little bummed and a lot pissed off. Oh yeah, when you get robbed, and you go to your bank and they ask you if you need to take any cash out for the next few days, the correct answer is, "Yes, yes I do." Because if you don't get out the cash you will find yourself driving home thinking about how you need to go get a new driver's license that day, since you intend on driving the next few days. Oops! How are you going to pay for that new driver's license? Guess what, you aren't.

So here are my two post-robbery tips: 1) Take the sympathy, and 2) Take the cash.

oh yeah one more thing - how come when you call the credit card companies about your stolen card the first thing they ask is the account number.........huh?

this is about where I can't sleep

My whole life I have been a sleeper. That is, I MUST have 8 (or more) hours each night or things don't go well. However, I have been cursed with this issue wherein I HATE to go to sleep, and once asleep, I never want to wake up.

Aside from all that childish behavior I also get to contend with insomnia. Sometimes it is the I-can't-fall-asleep variety which seems like childplay compared to the occasional (yet more and more frequent the older I get) I-woke-in-the-middle-of-the-night-and-now-can't-get-back-to-bed sort. I have all these tricks I learned or read about. I can count, I can make my head a blank slate and write out the things stressing me out (hi, yeah, I get it, I can't sleep when I am stressed out. However, I would like to go back to the age when just acknowledging the stress made me able to sleep.). I pretended there was a cleaner in my brain sweeping up random ideas and filing them into the right parts (oh yeah, did I mention the other time I can't sleep is when my mind gets in this crazy whirlwind and I can't slow it down?). My senior year of High School we learned how to do a partial self-hypnosis thing that used to lay me down in minutes. I have about a billion cures. I have my special "sleep bed" that when I go into it, it has a blanket that makes me fall asleep immediately (the spare bed, and this newest cure which was INFALLIBLE seems to be failing miserably now). The evidence is certain, these cures are strictly temporary.

When I was a kid I read that the average time it takes people to fall asleep is 7 minutes.

WHAT????? For me, 20 minutes is falling asleep quickly. But once asleep.....oh man........I won't go into the latest not-sleeping scenarios except to say that they seem very work-stress related. Until the last year or so there was never a time that I couldn't get back to sleep in about an hour with a little water, or peeing, or lotion, or a blanket, or throwing the blanket off.......that time seems to have gone away. Now if I wake at 4:30am I can't get back to sleep no matter how many times I try, or how many beds I check out.

Sometimes, though, I hover on the edge of sleep and not sleep and I snap to into full awake realizing that I must have just been fully asleep because the images in my head were not only not true, but also completely illogical that's when I think, "ahhhhhh, I was really asleep, I can roll over and crash out" rather than thinking, "oh SHIT! I can't sleep, DAMMIT!" That is a beautiful thing. This new oddness wherein I realize I wasn't awake for the last few minutes seems to have arrived with my new insomnia. Can't I have the fun asleep-while-I-think-I-am-awake without the never-going-back-to-sleep?

Maybe I need new pillows? (they seem awfully unsmooshy lately) Maybe I need to swap from summer duvet + under-blanket to full on Winter down comforter? Maybe I need.........?

Anyone out there with a fail safe cure? (again since comments are totally effed you can always e me at kerewin at mac dot com) I have tried reading (wakes me up), getting up and not treating bed as a place to be awake (hi, the whole HOUSE is apparently a place to be awake), hot baths (not practical at 4am but I might be willing in the future), tv? radio? those things keep me awake, I have to have NO NO NO noise while trying to sleep or my head gets all wound again, drugs? I never know ahead of time about the insomnia, and 4am is much too late to take anything if you have to get up and 8am. Also, I can't see myself as the kind of person who takes something every night. I am totally at a loss. I wish every night was a night wherein I woke up realizing that I wasn't actually awake, but dreaming, however that is just a (heh) pipe dream. HELP!

Stealing thrift

Giving credit where credit is due, I totally stole this link from Peace Dividend:

YEAH!

oh yeah, don't be a hater, yo

Commentary

So the comments apparently don't work. Humbug. At least now I have an excuse as to why no one ever says anything anymore.

If you want to drop me a line, you can always do so at kerewin at mac dot com.

It seemed like each day in Sevilla we walked by this building, but from different angles. So then I would say to the Hub, "Hey, that's a really beautiful building!" and he would reply, "Yes, you said that yesterday."

Once Upon A Time In Your Wildest Dream

I had this dream Friday night about a High School Reunion. Mine. But this year, not some other year not some rightfully 10'd year or something. I ran into my old High School Prom Date. We were in the auditorium. We talked. It was really really cool how honest we could be with each other.

I told him how his hard-on while we were dancing freaked my shit out.

He told me that in Junior High School when I found out he had a crush on me, and I told a friend of his to stop talking to me, how it hurt his feelings.

I forgot to mention that when we were friends in 6th grade (the whole class was in that silly math/sci-fi competition and we were taking math tests to see who scored the highest, teams were based on scores) that it really pissed me off that he rated first and I was second and he ended up choosing me for his flight team, rather than let me lead a team of my own.

But aside from all of that, I woke up with this idea that I should google him. Find him and let him know that there were so many silly and stupid memories of the past, and maybe it was time to move on from that and find a friendship, or at least some time to talk to each other beyond all of that. So I googled him and turns out he is a lawyer in the city I grew up.

I went to the law firm site and found a link to e-mail him. I sent this fabulous catch-up note, details and highlights from my life. Then I hit, "sent."

It wasn't until after I hit that button that I realized that the note might end up getting sent to a pool of lawyers rather than the exact one I sent the email to (it had an email link with his picture and then it made me fill out a form...ugh!). Still and all, Saturday morning dawned bright and clear and I went to check my email.......zip, nada, zilch.

Well, he might not work on the weekends, I mean he is a lawyer but in Spokansas after all. He might get weekends off. So Monday morning.....check the email. Nothing. Hmmm, that might be wrong. Check again.

NO-THING. No new thing, get over it, he thinks you are the majorist dipshit ever.

Ok, so get home from work. You know, maybe he didn't get your email first thing in the morning. I am sure he is as excited as you are to keep in touch.

Well, whatever, I am apparently solo in the strange catch-up dream category and he finds me the utmost in loserville. There was no email and I turn out to be pure asshole in the twilight zone of memory. That or not even worth pity or hatred.

I am heartily disappointed. So much so that I refuse to post a picture of my horrible High School Prom. Not horrible due to date, just horrible because I looked like ass.

Just a quick reminder: Yo "E" I loved the night we spent with all of my friends' at J's house, after the prom watching bad 80's movies and not getting the slightest bit of sleep. I do admit to being the slightest bit disappointed that you never tried to kiss me when you brought me to the door of my parents' house some 6am later. Still, life got about 8 zillion times better AFTER High School for me, and I certainly hope for you as well.

I wish you all the best (but I will more than likely hold a grudge if you don't have some better excuse than a vacation for why you never emailed me back).

best, k

Love the one you're with

Why is it that you are the meanest to the one who loves you most?

Perhaps we know (or hope?) these are the people who will forgive you (us) the most easily?

I couldn't be luckier, I have someone who forgives me when I am being the biggest asshole, ever. How did that happen?

That raises the question, if we are meanest to the ones we love, then what the hell is up with that one dude who does that one thing that makes everyone thinks that he hates their guts?

Anyway, I love you Hubo'Mine, how did I ever get so lucky to have such a sweet man in my life?

the Cred' Issue

This is good

This is better

(as always just click the pictures to follow the link)

Total Shite Day

When you walk in the door at 2:30 only to find out that they guy who was supposed to be there at 9a, and do all sorts of work, called in sick. Well that isn't the best of days.

So today the only joy in Mudville is a quote, seems somehow fitting, now that I am the manager of the department.

“Every chef must learn how to govern the state” –Nikolai Lenin (Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov), Will the Bolsheviks Stay in Power?

stuck to the wall with solid screws

Clean up on aisle 7, please

Just to be clear, I haven't worked in a grocery store before. This is only my 3rd week and to be frank, I pretty much only know about wine. The only reason I know the location of the soda pop is that it is just beyond the beer section. Ice? Right around the corner from the wine section in those aisles with the glass doors that tend to indicate frozen items. But really people.......I DON'T FREAKING KNOW where the damn (fill in blank here) is. I hate that I am forced by the Co. to walk you around the store looking for it because PEOPLE.....I have WORK to do here in the wine section. Don't even get me started on the stocking of the beer. Did you know I had to do that too? Yeah, I didn't either.

By the way, when you run over your toe with a pallet jack, it hurts. It hurts like a mutha, but you can't dance around yelling the F word at the top of your lungs because you are in a grocery store and people might hear you. Oh yeah, and it pisses me off when you look at my name tag and then mispronounce my name. I won't be offended if you don't know who I am. In fact, I prefer it.

How is my new job coming along? Oh quite nicely, thank you for asking.

Chu, Chu, Chu, Chu, Changes

When you work in a restaurant, during busy, stressful times, the front of the house tends to get a bit snippy. A little bit is understood and later, when all is relaxed and quiet, no one gives it a second thought. However, there are times when it goes overboard and an apology is required. Since I am a pretty controlling person, I am usually the one giving the apologies later.

I try to go out of my way to apologize, if need be, or praise and thank my staff for doing a good job in bad times. As the manager/host/wine buyer I end up being the lynch pin for the restaurant. I watch the tables, and step in where needed. This has led to a certain dependence of the servers. Perhaps they abuse this right a little. Now that I am in my last week at the restaurant, I can see how much I spoiled them. (Side note: Is that possible? Shouldn't you always be willing to help when it is needed? Just because someone isn't running around like a chicken with their head cut off doesn't mean that making an espresso here or there wouldn't be helpful....right???)

One of my servers in the last couple weeks has been particularly snippety. When I try to gauge if she is somehow pissed at me, or overloaded in her life, nothing comes up. Later, during the off hours she is perfectly sweet.

So this server, J, worked last night. It was a fairly slow night, so I called off the busser. Now, it never really got busy. But there was a point where 3 of J's tables were about to leave and she got tense. I helped out where possible as well as the other server who was on. She didn't seem to feel much gratitude for this action and it kinda pissed me off. This is the conversation I wanted to have with her, but just had in my head, instead.

"So, I have noticed you have been very tense with me lately and I want to clear that up. Am I setting too many of your tables? Bringing out bread too much? Helping you serve wine? Running your food? Just say the word, because whatever it is that I am doing too much of, I want to stop."

taking a few hours away from busy-ness

Number 7

1. As a child, what was your (or your family's) first pet ever?
• When I was three my parents brought back a puppy from some pound, or kennel or something. We named him Sparky. He was a total mutt, but fabulous, just the best dog, ever.
• 2. What is the scariest movie you ever remember seeing, as a kid?


• My family had cable in the mid 70s, back when HBO was only on fromabout 6pm to midnight. I remember we watched "The Car" and I had nightmares for years. I was something like 5 or 6, and it bothered me until I was at least 12.
• 3. What do you think of long finger nails?


• They only look good if they are real, and even then there is a limit to length.
• 4. If you had to go and look for a new job today, what would you be looking for?


• Since I am looking for a new job today, and this is part of the reason that I haven't posted in so long........sigh, I don't know. Apparently something in the wine industry. Failing that, I had a great interview for installing POS systems for restaurants.

• 5. What was the first country outside of the United States of America that you travelled to, and why?


• I met a totally hot British guy here in Seattle, and about 6 months later, I used my student aid check to buy a ticket to the U.K. I had a great time, and never got the guy.

Number 9

1. What was the first computer system you remember using?
• 2. What chore did you have to do as a kid, that you loathed?


• 3. Do you have any OCD traits?


• 4. Since this is the reason that we are friends, how did you find Freeverse?


• 5. Online dating, pro or con?

Number 10

1. If you could instantly change ONE thing in your present life what would that be?
• Cheeerist, there's so many things right now. However, if I had to choose one, I would choose something that isn't instantly changeable. I mean, you can always change jobs, you can paint your house, you can even pull up trees and bushes you dislike. So, I guess I would choose to be wealthy. Not sickeningly, disgustingly wealthy. Comfortably wealthy.........where you can choose what charities you donate to, and you can travel where and when you want.
• 2. Which personality trait most hinders you?


• My weight? Maybe my habit of saying what's on my mind.
• 3. What's your best personality trait?


• I am charming and funny. Extremely social. At least that's what I keep telling myself.
• 4. What is your personal [inner] refuge? IOW, don't name a [external] person that you take refuge in, no matter how true.


• Heh, I just had to ask someone what IOW meant and now I feel completely retarded. Let me see.......my personal inner refuge, I consistently have conversations in my head with myself. However that tends to make me more confused than ever so that can't be it. Reading, or taking a bath is a good way to distract myself from the outside.

• 5. What do you have faith in?


• I have faith in myself (usually, unless I don't and that's just when I am really depressed). I guess I believe that what you toss out into the world is definitely going to come back to you. So if you spew crap and bullshit, you're in trouble. Therefore, just be true to yourself and others, and you should be fine.

It might be painful but it builds character

Today was simply glorious. The sun was out, but it wasn't too hot. We were out on the town, but there weren't too many people. We ate good food but didn't get stuffed. It was kind of like a date. Which is nice, especially since we went to the park where we had our second date, so many years ago. Made me feel kind of romantic.

So when we got home and I went to water the plants, I thought, what did we do before we all got connected? Did we stare in front of our computer screens? Well, since I didn't have a computer when the Hub and I met, the answer is very clearly, no. Now that I have my own computer, or two, I spend a good portion of it keeping up on the daily lives of several online friends, reading the comics, playing cards games, and generally wasting hours of my spare time.

Maybe it is time for a break? Now, I am certainly not one to end reading email, or looking at websites, maybe even applying for a job or two, but I do have a good book (maybe) that I want to read, some magazines to catch up on, and a pinball game or two to play with the Hub. I might even *gasp* watch some television. Perhaps a little writing? Probably this kind of journal writing, rather than anything fictional, but it is a start.

To that end, I owe SuzyQ some answers, so:

Other than me, who's your favorite online friend?
Placebo. She's one of the first I talk to in the morning, and usually the last one I talk to at night. She's fairly non-judgemental in her judgementness, and pretty level-headed. Aside from that, she taught me to play spades. I am rusty, but I wouldn't mind brushing up on some of my skills.
• What is your greatest fear?
  I have so many minor ones, I am not sure I have any great ones. I don't want to end up alone, turning away the help of all those who once loved me, I suppose. There's something rather stubborn in my genetic material that makes it hard for me to give the appearance of forgiveness (on the other hand, I tend to forgive rather easily, it is just that no one knows about it). It isn't so pretty, and I wonder why anyone stands for it.
• What things are you afraid of?
  Just about everything, spiders, dirty feet bottoms, vegetables cut on the chicken board, food not cooked properly, the house when I am home alone.......fairly endless.
• Tell us about a re-occurring bad dream:
  I have two re-occuring bad dreams. In the first one, I get up and realize I am late, and start to get ready for work, but get sidetracked. I finally get back to it, and leave for wherever I am supposed to go, only to see a friend, or stop to shop, or run out of gas. I keep trying to get to my destination, and never get there. I have this dream when I am sleeping through my alarm.
  The second bad dream involves just your everyday scenario, but when I am supposed to talk, I can't because all this gum is lodged into my mouth. I keep pulling it out, and pulling it out, which no one seems to really notice, but I am fairly grossed out by it, in the dream. I am always having trouble speaking because of the gum getting in the way. I used to have this dream when I wore my retainers after not putting them in for a really long time. This dream seems to have gone away.
• Tell us about a [re-occurring] good dream:
  I seriously don't have any of these. Re-occuring that is, I have plenty of just regular new good dreams. Apparently my brain runs sweeps week every night.

For my non-chat day tomorrow, I hope to get a lot accomplished.

Weeding
• Mowing


• Possibly finding bricks for the yard, por fin


• Applying for a job or two


• Maybe getting past page 10 of Life of Pi


• Watching as much of Season 6 of Sex and the City as I want, provided it actually shows up in the mail tomorrow.


• Bike ride on my new (used) mountain bike

I also like that the MPQs work out that I get the odd ones. Seems fitting.

Take two percoset and call me in the morning, if you are conscious

Note to self: Try not to throw your back out. However, if you do throw your back out, aim for a day that you don't already have off, as the pain will ruin any fun free-day plans you might have had.

So as the drugs kick in and my head gets floaty, here's a bit fun for all, courtesy of MsF and b3ta:

Panda Golf!

Throw the ball (this one really creeped me out)

Art Car! Note: this was made entirely with free toys.

Gay Marvin

And if you are still with me, more Mildly Probing Questions #5:

1. If you had to move to another city, what would be your dream city?
• 2. What's your favorite commercial on television?


• 3. What day of the week do you most look forward to?


• 4. When you go into a book store do you steer towards fiction or non-fiction?


• 5. How old were you when you first tried coffee?

Fender Bender Mender Shmender

Why didn't I just stay on the street I was on and make a left on a light, rather than go down to other street to take a right on a corner?
Why did I make that right turn trying to go around the UPS truck, that was parked on my corner, instead of waiting for him to get in his truck and drive off?
Why didn't I drive my own goddamn shorter car?
Why did I even get up today?

Fuck UPS
Fuck Kevo's Vanagon (which is incidently much more fucked than the UPS truck)
Fuck this fucking fucked up fuck of a day, fuck, fuck, fuck

FUCK

Drinking shall commence, AHORA

Just try to start something with me

Saturday: Take two hours at an arboretum plant sale, sore arms, grumpy from the crushing humanity, and $75 later.
Then add Sunday: Six hours of hard, yard labor in the blistering sun and $50 at the local compost/fertilizer store.
Mix in Monday: Another hour at the store, another two in the yard, a rusty wine barrel cut in half, and $80 at previous plant store getting mulch, potting soil, birthday cards and flip flops, yet still remaining undecided about which plants are going in the barrels, which means yet another trip to the plant store and more money and more hours and did I mention my arms were sore?

If after all that, this:

(click on the picture to see the yard progression from Sunday)

turns into this:

Then I swear to god I won't be held responsible for my organic garden/yard turning into a chemical war zone. Even if the damn Western Tent Caterpillars don't leave any "permanent" damage.

If that yard looks vaguely familiar to you, then where the HELL where you on Sunday when I needed an extra hand or two? And don't give me that look, you know the Hub hates yard work. There's still lots left to do if you are so inclined, for instance there needs to be a barrier between the grass I left and the dirt.

You know, if you felt like it.

While I am in limbo

So who knew it took DAYS for siblings to pick a funeral day? Certainly not me, as my life is here on hold while they make the decision, and since I live just about 500 miles away a decision would be nice. My boss thinks so, too.

So while we are all waiting, let's do another session of weird links!

Boss the chicken around

Try different commands, fly, moonwalk......my current favorite is to tell him to strip.

Buy an Air Guitar!

Emergency Period

Special thanks to SuzieQ and her freaky link finder http://jelly.b3ta.com/

Meanwhile, I have to go shopping for smaht funeral clothes. Gotta look good for all the redneck, white trash relatives I haven't seen for near to twenty years.

The Restaurant II

I can't understand why anyone would want to watch Jerry Springer, or reality television, when they could just go work in a restaurant and get all those titilating scenes AND get paid. Yes, yes, I know there was a supposed 'reality' restaurant show, and I am here to tell you that the things that went on there were pure ass. Nobody in their right mind would reward an employee who is about to quit with a gamn Vespa (btw, what strange coincidence led that scooter to be placed just outside of the restaurant anyway?). I think a really fascinating idea for prime time would be to combine The Restaurant and Survivor and vote people off the floor. The last episode would feature one poor, hapless server and one screwed cook, scrambling to do everything by themselves. Oh, right, that is why real life isn't like reality tv, because we all need support staff.

Anyway, there is enough drama happening at my restaurant to fill several seconds of a television show.

The (Real) Restaurant
Cast (Installment 1, kitchen staff, better known as the Back of House, or BOH):
Owner Guy: Early fifties, balding guy. Chef. The buck supposedly stops here.......forever. You want something then you have to continue to remind the man, and if you are lucky and only really lucky, six months later, you might get a portion of what you requested. Also a fumbler, and a waffler, he goes on and on about cutting the hours of the front of house, because, "people tend to do what they need to do in the time allotted them, whether it be an hour or ten minutes." Yet, he never cleans up after himself, and has a tendency to wander from task to task, never finishing. When he accidently cuts or burns himself (not unusual in a kitchen) he starts yelling a string of profanities and kicks things. "Damn! Fuck! Piss!" stomp, stomp, stomp. It is weird to be around, and people generally flee, and then mock him endlessly hours later, behind his back, of course.

Sous Chef*: Early thirties, tall, thin, kinda good looking in a very dockers kind of way. Child of two psychologists, Ivy League-er (legacy student). The S.C. is one of those very annoying people, who is really good at anything he sets his mind to. Piano, tennis, French, school, and cooking just to name a few. He has an encyclopedic memory and a meddling mind. He also seems to want everyone to like him, and his method for ensuring this is to slag people behind their backs to whomever he is currently talking to, while indicating that he and the person he is speaking to are in strictest confidence, and alike in high ability. The next day he slags the confidant to the person he was slagging the day before.

Seriously into drugs and alcohol. He is also completely manic, in a depressed sort of way, and he mumbles endlessly. When not mumbling endlessly to you, he is talking into his cell phone while working. He has an almost permanent head tilt from this, and his cell phone is always covered in gook. It was practically white the other day from goat cheese. You walk up to the pass-through window and he is mid-story. You look around, who is he talking to? Seemingly you, yet you have work to do, you walk away, come back five minutes later and he is still talking. Recently dumped by his fiancée, we all get to be part and parcel of the drama that unfolds on his cell phone.

*our S.C. is the reason our show would be a big hit, yet he is the only person who works there that would end up in an even more downward spiral if he became famous. Still, he would make us all rich.

Lead-Line: Only here from the Bay area because his *very* serious girl friend is going to grad school in town. He hates the weather, but likes the fishing. He is very flirty, in a very non-serious way and has at least two restaurant girlfriends, by both his admission and theirs. (This is a function, I think, of every jobplace.....you have your real life significant other, and then your fake one.) He is very serious all the time, and seemingly permanently disappointed. Used to be a good going-out buddy of the Sous, but has decided recently that is a dead-end street.

Currently, he is obsessed with saving up to buy a house. This means he never wants to do anything with anyone. All he talks about lately is the house, fishing, his new workout regime, and how disappointed he is in the S.C.

Newest Kitchen Guy: Moved here from the South with his wife. They just got the notion that they wanted to live in Seattle, and got in their truck and headed on up. He appears to be completely serious, yet totally facetious all the time. So no one ever really knows if he is pissed, or is just joking. A strange mixture of redneck and liberal. For instance, he got married when he was 18, for about 3 months, and then they got divorced. He is currently on his second wife,but speaks all the time about wife #3, and #4 (these two future wives coincidently enough, are the same girls that are the peripheral girlfriends of the L.L.).

Has long hair, that he always has in a ponytail, then covered in a handkerchief ala Axel Rose. Obsessed with all things Tazz, he has the Tasmanian Devil all over his truck, and I am pretty sure a tattoo. Since he only moved here a few months ago and doesn't know anyone, the restaurant is his complete social life. He and the Sous drink to oblivion at least 3 nights a week. They are probably fairly detrimental to each others' health.

Dishwasher: Mexican, from Mexico City, has been in Seattle for at least seven years. Has three kids in Mexico that live with his parents, because his wife died 13 or so years ago. Hasn't been back to Mexico to see his kids in at least five years, because he is worried about his lack of papers and his ability to get back to the States. He is the hardest worker in the restaurant, and one of the nicest. He speaks fairly decent English, but when it comes to anything official, he comes to me for translation. This guy has three jobs. Monday-Friday he works lunch at a Mexican burrito place, then Tuesday-Saturday he works evenings at my restaurant, lastly he drives a van for a large soda conglomeration in the very early mornings Friday-Monday. The driving job he does three months on, and three months off, because after that, they might have to pay benefits, or something. Of course, almost all of his money gets sent back to Mexico, so that his kids can live a very high quality life. He won't move back there, because he probably couldn't find any good paying work, and he can't bring his kids here, because the dollar here doesn't get what it gets down South, and they wouldn't get everything their hearts desire.

Recently he has had pain around his heart, a few days a month. He went to the doctor (he has benefits through us, thankfully) and got all kinds of tests. Diagnosis: No alcohol, caffeine, sugar, or fatty or spicy food. For a Mexican, this is like a death toll. That's all they have is spicy, fatty, high sugar foods! Frankly I think doctors give this kind of advice hoping that people will tow the line around fifty percent of the time. I also believe that if he just had 2 jobs, or even one, and got some decent sleep and maybe some regular exercise, he would be fine, regardless of diet.

When it comes down to it, not a single one of us would do his job, yet the place wouldn't run without him. Therefore, it is in our best interests to try to make his job easy when we can. I always tell my staff, we all work for the diswasher.

The Front of House installment should be coming in the next week. In the meantime, I will be holding my breath for the WB to call.

Mocking the mocking mocker-er

While I have a seriously long and embarassing story to relate, which the Hub has strictly forbidden me from revealing to our friends, this comes up as just a teensy bit more important............

Mockblogger

Go. Go now.

Just why wasn't this my idea? Oh yeah, I am too self-absorbed.

Re-Tard-Ed

There must be something in the water making everyone and everything completely retarded; to wit:

• Running for president
• Email stamps (don't we already pay our ISPs?)
• Guilty (ps - if this is what Martha gets, why aren't all the Enron execs in jail right now, instead of sitting in one of their 20 houses?)

Lately I seem to have Tourette's when it comes to the word "retarded." I used it in front of the I.L.s this weekend at least twice, I use it at work to describe the antics of the former-employee of mine, it just....bursts out. Leaving me sitting there, praying that I don't get yelled at by someone who has a challenged relative. FYI - I have a challenged relative and it doesn't bother me any, although I never ever ever use the word around my Aunt, who is the mother of said-relative. CAN'T. STOP. SAYING. RETARDED.

Perhaps I am retarded?

I am clearly gay, as I had this same problem with that word, too. A few years back I tried to re-install the use of this word within my social circle to how we all used it in grade school. Pretty soon all my friends, family members, husband, and many co-workers were using it. Until someone I worked with, who is a very nice homosexual male, asked us to stop using it as he was offended. COULDN'T. STOP. SAYING. GAY. In fact, I still catch myself saying it, with that follow-up cringe.

Clearly I am retardedly gay.

Because she can't get her frickin' mind off High School

I am not funny.

In High School as the newspaper Co-Editor, I was in charge of the Real News and Opinion, while jokester Scott whats-his-name was in charge of Entertainment and Sports. I once tried a movie review and he mocked me endlessly.

When I sit down to give you an in-depth view of the k©ThoughtProcess, I get bitter, I get unhappy view. Things in this world don't go well. I choose irony over humor. A well-told story, with proper detail (but not too much!) is far, FAR more important, I tell you.

Amazingly, I *kill* in real life, I have had people say I should be in comedy (ok, just one person, and she likely needs to seek therapy, but STILL). KILL, I say, KILL, KILL. Ok, hold on, I was channeling Arlo Guthrie.

Tough, isn't it?

there's really nothing more to say

Freaky CO male ISO freakier women to set up commune

Compatibility Test

Look while you can, apparently he is taking the site down, soon.

Mistake #1 (AV that is)

A wine rep of mine came in the other day, after she had been on a week's vacation (I will call her S to preserve her identity). So I asked her how it was.

"Awful. Totally, horribly awful," she said.

She went on this vacation with her current beau, and this other couple, who started out as his friends, and, as it goes, became friends with her as well. S and this man had been dating for about 5 years. A year ago, he moved from Seattle to San Francisco for a work thing, but they decided to give the LD thing a go. He flew up and stayed the weekend with her, at her place. Then on Sunday the other couple, Long-Distance Boy Friend, and S drive two cars up to a remote cabin up in Canada.

Mind you, he had spent the whole weekend with S so far. Monday dawns and he decides to tell S that he thinks they should split. MONDAY! Like he couldn't just keep his mouth shut until the last day they were together, or as S says, "or just not come at ALL."

I have to say that S deserves sainthood for putting on a brave face and trying to make the most of her vacation after that. Especially because LDBF guy proceeds to alienate not just S, but the friends as well by acting like a complete, irrational psycho the rest of the week. This is already going to be a hugely long post, so I won't go into details, but clearly this guy was either off his regular meds, or pulled a Rush Limbaugh. (I am not clear on the details, but somehow there was a cat at the cabin, must have been the friends' cat?) Anyway, one morning S was cuddled up with the cat, LDBF gets up all snarly and yells, "You're both blanket hogs!" Then turns and points directly at the cat, "and YOU SNORE!!!!!" and storms out of the room.

According to S, this is apparently the best way to get over a relationship. Spend a week in close quarters with that person after you have broken up. "Poof! All feelings are gone, I mean, how can I love someone who is CLEARLY insane?"

Which got me thinking about my first major relationship mistake. I wish it had been that easy to recover.

Of course, we are talking AV (after virginity) here. DV (during virginity) my mistakes would all be the same. Mistakes 1-1,000,000 DV went this way: I developed a crush on someone, made moon eyes at them (in my head, I think), thought every love song on the radio was about them, figured they couldn't like a troll like me, then repelled them with my brainiac meanness. Why again was it that I couldn't get a date in High School?

Thank god for college, though. You get away from the family, you find yourself, get a job, get some confidence..........ahhhhhhhh. Damn, I loved college. If it wasn't for that pesky homework crap, I might have stayed there forever.

So, mistake #1 actually starts DV. My virginity was a lot like myself in High School, unwanted. I was waiting tables at that faux-italian place downtown (waiting tables, incidently, is the *BEST* birth control ever invented) and taking the bus from the U District, since I didn't have a car. I was fairly new, and on a trip to work I saw a fellow Spagger on the bus. He was brand-spankin' new, and for some reason I got a little shy and didn't talk to him. I think it was because when I first saw him, I gave him that "I know you look" and it wasn't returned.

However, that didn't stop me from talking to him about it when we got to work. "Hey, I saw you on the bus, but I didn't say hi because I wasn't sure if it was really you." We struck up a friendship, due to our newness and it was fun and a little flirty. It was definitely going somewhere. One night he asked me over to dinner at his place. I had to work that night, but I thought I was getting off fairly early, "Maybe after work?"

"No problem," he said

Of course, it ended up being slamming that night, and I didn't get to his place until after 10. It was cool though, he made a beans and rice dish that was quite good, and we had.....beer? wine? Lordy, I don't even remember. We talked forever and ever. I had been kinda watching the clock, knowing the bus schedule. I kept putting off leaving because it was so much fun talking and hanging out. Suddenly, SHIT, the last bus of the night had left, and I was stranded. I didn't relish walking home after 1am on a Sunday night, especially as I lived a good 3 miles from there. Tim just said, "No problem, you can just sleep here, in my bed, nothing will happen."

That seemed cool, and really I expected NOTHING to happen. My college friends, who were boys, and I did this ALL THE TIME. Seriously. We would be studying, get tired, and hey....let's just go to sleep! Silly, naive kerewin. Let's just say I went from DV to AV that evening. It wasn't any big deal to me, I was tired of "Being Virginated" and here was an easy opportunity. I had found, in the past, that revealing this to some guy you were fooling around with was a good way to end the evening. Cold. Flat. Boring. So, I never told Tim. It seemed a moot point.

Well, at least I can say my first time wasn't awful. At the time, I thought it was pretty decent, but looking back with more experienced eyes, I would say it was okay, but not spectacular. I think I was more involved in paying attention to how I felt than how Tim felt, and for all I know he ended that night thinking, "Jesus, what a lousy lay." My little subterfuge didn't work however, because the next day we were hanging out and he said, "Did I hurt you last night?"

Hmm....how the hell to answer that question? "Ummm, no, umm, not really.....why?"

"Oh, there was just some blood and I was worried."

So, I had to tell him I was all Virginated and stuff and he got all worried (men are SO stupid). He thought I was in love with him! feh. While I was not in love with him, and I considered him a bit of an experiment, I was ready to keep experimenting. That was fun! Let's do that again! AGAIN! AGAIN!!

"Tim, it wasn't any big deal. I had something I didn't want anymore, and you made it easy. I don't want to, you know, consider us girlfriend and boyfriend, and all. If you want to just move on, no big deal. However, I would kind of like to keep sleeping together, but if we do, I just want to know that you aren't sleeping with other people, for safety."

He agreed, and for a month or so, we experimented, you know, in the name of science. Tim became the first guy, but by no means last, who wondered if I was some sort of nympho. Apparently a female wanting to have sex is rare. (Side note: boys, here's some advice, WOMEN LIKE SEX, get more on the ball, if they don't like sex with you, maybe you need some tips.) I had my "let's not give each other any diseases" thing and Tim had his "let's not tell anyone atwork so as to maintain our privacy" thing.

Stupid, stupid, naive kerewin.

It was so much fun to work with someone you were having a private fling with! Especially for the other person, because it still gave him an open playing field. Not that I knew it at the time. After a month or so, he broke it off saying, "I think you are getting too serious." Oh, Tim, you were never my boyfriend, but you will always be my First Ex.

We engaged in a couple of post breakup nighttime experiments (just twice,and just in the first few weeks after our "breakup"). We still worked together. We were still friends.

Fast forward to 5 months later, I went to England on my Spring break, with a cheap student ticket and some of my student loan money. I had a fabulous, unfortunately sex-free, time. I met this hottie-patotie Greek on the plane over, and I think something might have happened there, but my friends picked me up at the airport right before we set a meetup....oh well. Probably best. So I get home and my best friend (also a Spagger) picks me up at the airport. I can't even think why but she tells me she gave Tim a ride home from work one of the nights I was gone and he told her that I was still in love with him.

PARDON???? I was never in love with him. Ever.

He apparently also invited her in for a drink and..........

She said, "no,thanks."

I get back to the apartment and my roomie, another Spagger (who was my matron-of-honor at my wedding and is my true best friend, ever) tells me, "Hey, Tim called me the day you left and asked me over for dinner."

The next day I hang out with another friend Celeste, another Spagger...sigh. She asked me to bring her back some real British hard cider. Well, Celeste actually slept with Tim while I was gone. It was as if he picked the 3 people closest to me and tried to sleep with them all. And *did* sleep with one of them! Here's the part you must have seen coming, he didn't want me to tell people at work we were sleeping together, because he was sleeping with a few OTHER PEOPLE, while we were sleeping together. Even the boss.

This is when I found out that I had loved Tim. Or something. I had a soft spot, I was a fool, something. Because I felt so shit upon. I felt like someone jumped up and down on my heart. How could I be so fucking stupid? However, my hatred was like a cleansing fire for my heart. It blew all that love out, and burned it down. What a total bastard. To make myself feel better, I told myself, "at least I was first, at least I wasn't the 3rd or 4th person he slept with here, at least I didn't know ahead of time."

Yet, I got mine back. I found out his stalker method of befriending new waitresses and sleeping with them before everyone told them he was a scumbag. So, if I saw him talking to some new girl, I would just pull them aside later and tell them what a male slut he was. I killed his sex at that restaurant.

It felt sooooo good.

We hated each other, and we continued working together for at least a year after that. Two lessons in one! Don't let someone keep your relationship a secret, and never date at work!

Useless trivia #1: While thinking about this past history, it dawned on me that all this happened early October 1993. The hub and I had our first date October 2, 1996. Dear god, that wasn't the same date as my "first" was it? Now, thanks to google, I know that the date of my first was actually October 3, whew! Missed it by a day. (Although, technically it happened after midnight, so it was really October 4)

Useless trivia #2: Yes, yes, I was 22, almost 23 when I went from DV to AV. I told you no one wanted it when I was in H.S.!

Useless trivia #3: Spagger n. A person who works at the Old Spaghetti Factory. More than likely a drunk, or completely bitter and mean.

How I didn't save the world by ignoring assholism

So when you go to a restaurant, you have an idea of how much the food will be, the wine, the dessert. If you have a lot of wine yourself, you don't always want to pay the "more than retail" that happens at restaurants, in which case, you bring your own and pay something called corkage. Depending on the restaurant, it can run between $5 (think Old Spaghetti Factory) to $15-20 (think Ruth's Chris).

A couple of weeks ago, we had a group of ten come into the restaurant. The first couple there brought a canvas bag that looked rather full and there was a bottle of wine on top. As I was taking them to their table, I asked what wine they brought. The man takes out a very nice bottle of Walla Walla red and we talk a little about that and then he asks about corkage, which at my restaurant is $15/per bottle. He whistles a little and tells me that is steep. Whatever.

The rest of the group comes, and as it is a busy Saturday night I don't really have time to pay attention. I do notice them getting a little rowdy, however, and I always see everyone's glass about a third full. So I ask their server how many wines they have gone through and he says, "well they haven't ordered anything off the list and I only opened that one bottle." Hmmmmmm, interesting. So I make a casual pass by the table, yup, it was a different bottle than they originally had, I would have picked it up and taken it, but there was a skosh left in it, and that's pretty much against the rules.

Now that I started paying attention, I noted that they are careful to leave a bit in the bottle, so it didn't get removed. Apparently when they were done with one they carefully opened another under the table and swapped. Not only this, but they made sure to do it with no one watching. At the end of the evening, they put the original bottle back on the table.

So here's the thing. Jesus, there are so many things, but they KNEW coming into this event that they were going to do this. They had the canvas bag with all the wine in it, but hidden, they had to have had a wine key to open the bottles and they even were detail oriented enough to swap it back to the original bottle. All and all, it was fairly disgusting to see. People really have a way of making me ill.

If I had been their waiter, I would have just poured off the rest of the wine, and pulled the bottle off the table. Thereby forcing their lie into the open. Since I was so busy with the rest of the restaurant that night, I didn't have a chance to really notice until the end of their meal. As we are on the higher end of fine dining, I also didn't want to make a scene. It was one of the cheapest, most disgusting displays I have ever witnessed in a restaurant, though. That's a big statement for someone who has been in the industry for 12 years.

cheap ass mutha fuckas

Needle in the Hay

Is there a school for building sandwiches? Because, I have found it to be almost universal that all the meat and cheese for sandwiches is folded up and placed towards the middle of the sandwich. My guess is that this makes it appear as if there is more meat and cheese than there really is....but SO WHAT???????? It is stupid, I want evenly placed meat and cheese.

There is a ratio of bread to meat and cheese. Not to mention lettuce, tomato, onion (light), mustard (yellow for sammies), and miracle whip (never, ever mayonnaise). So when these "Graduates of the Sandwich class for dummies" make the piled meat/cheese combo, I just have to rip the damn sandwich apart and even out the meat and cheese anyway. The reason this comes up is that we went to see the final Matrix this weekend (thank god it was bargain prices, I was too, too annoyed with the final installment) and were running late and went to the deli of the store next to the theater for a little lunch before we went in. So, on their sandwich sign, they highly recommend grilling the sandwiches before eating. Not usually a huge fan of the warm sandwich, I complied because my restaurant background told me that somethings are better done the way the "chef" wants them done.

Of course, I had to frantically search for a mayo-free sammy, and then debate the value between veggie, roast beef and cheddar, and some undefined white-type meat with a red spread. Ok, roast beef and cheddar it is, not a grand choice, but my Gram used to make some killer roast beef sandwiches. The major bonus was the baguette, god I loooooooooooooove baguette. The Hub got the unidentified meat with red spread on ciabatta (ewwww soggy). We then take our little cafeteria trays and go through the line to get sodas, and then pay, while waiting for our supposedly-yummy grilled sandwiches. Fyi, the San Pellegrino limonata was FABOO.

In a short course of time, the sammies come and mine......well.......hmmmm, how to put this? SUCKED ASS. The roast beef and cheddar were all in the middle, and cold, therefore not melted. But worse....the baguette was BURNED, not just a little browned, but blackened. Ok, what jackass thinks that a baguette should be grilled???? And just what dumas actually believes said jackass?????? The Hub in his sweet way offered to trade me sandwiches, which was rather noble, but the spread on his was some sweet red pepper thing, and I already have ciabbata issues. So I redistribute the meat and cheese (cold and not melted), and then find, I have to just discard the burned bread anyway. As for the meat and cheese, they tasted old and dry, but I hadn't eaten yet that day and we had a time limit.

I blame myself for agreeing to eat lunch at a place that insists on grilling a baguette. NEVER AGAIN