Before I begin part 3, let's review:
Threads: 1 strike (could have been better, could have been worse)
Food: 1 strike (at least there wasn't a steak involved)
Cuteness: 0 strikes
Car: 1 strike (not a Viper, but not a Geo)
Manners: 1 strike (not holding the door is a no-no)
Bling: 0 strikes (nice phone)
Conversation: 0 strikes
Musical taste: 1 strike (Van Halen without Roth?)
Threads: 1 strike (not Versace, not Old Navy ((or maybe it was?))
You may have noticed some adjustments. I think I started off forgetting that 3 points was bad.
So, beginning with that, here's the rest of the date-evaluation.
We went to a club downtown called "Crocs" to meet Bugs. It took a while for sis to show, so we took a mafia-style booth and I got to the martinis. The table was laden with parchment, and since there was no smoking 'til 10, I took some crayons and got to work testing Van's skills. I drew flames, he drew a dragon crouching from behind a rock. Not bad.
Skills: 0 strikes
There was a review of our previous meeting and apparently, he didn't remember much of it. He blushed when I reminded him of how friendly he had been. I like a guy with a little touch of shyness. Not Mormon enough to keep his hands to himself, but not Heathen enough to warrent a slap in the face.
Cuteness: still holding at 0 strikes.
Bugs finally showed and we decided that Croc's wasn't happenin'. He treated my sis with respect, included her in conversation and offered to pay for drinks. A big plus in the manners department, but still not enough to erase the car-door oversight.
Manners: still 1 strike.
I think the next venue was the Gigglin' Grizzly (I live in Colorado folks). It was the type of hot, sweaty nightclub where you can get lost in the crowd and they pass out promo t-shirts and glowing bracelets. I got a red one. (That's 'cause I'm red-hot) There was an encore of ass grinding and not being able to stand up straight in a room full of people. Black men seem to really like Bugs. For the second night we've chilled, another random ebony-skinned fellow wouldn't leave her alone. I couldn't begin to speculate.
Sometime between the dinner and the club hopping, I had made it clear to Van that he was taking me home for the night. I bade good-night to Bugs and hopped back into the Dodge.
Van has a nice condo. Not to far away, new carpeting, a loft area, a miniature pincer, nice furniture and very, very clean. This guy is getting a second date, if only for the wide-screen, plasma TV I'm in love with.
Crib: 0 strikes and holding strong.
Aside from listening preferences, another way I size up my companions is via cinematic choices. I'm a huge fan of horror, indie flicks and foreign film. When it comes to horror, almost anything goes. You'd be surprised at how many B movies I've sat through (or maybe you wouldn't). One of my all-time favorites is Evil Dead. Evil Dead 2 is great as well, but that's where it ends. The fact that at least one of the two was his shelves is a good sign.
Movies: 0 strikes.
Van also has 2 electric guitars. Now, having lived in Austin - the "live music capital of the world" - I have had many a suitor attempt many a serenade. After we toured the condo and the Star Wars toy collection, I convinced him to fire up the amps and strum a few chords. Impressive, the boy can play!
Skills: 0 strikes strong.
Now, at this point, alarms may be going off in your head, "Star Wars toys?!" I have had several collections of toys myself and am a card-carrying member of the "no way I'm taking that out of the package" club. So, color me dork, but no strikes for the toys.
Where was I...oh, the movie. Well, I didn't finish Evil Dead 2. About 20 minutes into the screening, I made my intentions clear by undoing the buttons of Van's shirt. On to make-out scores:
Kissing: 2 strikes against.
It may seem harsh at first to give so cruel a mark, but I love "the kiss". A good kiss can get my panties nice and soaked before the real action even begins. Van has facial hair, and my poor, delicate chin would up badly chaffed. No innovation and too much repitition. We're going to have to seem some improvement there.
I have to wonder to myself if Van had spent the whole day previous cleaning or if he is just a neat freak. The apartment was spotless! I mean, it was like a set, or as if he'd just moved in. Everything was spotless and neatly in place. For 1, most stoners aren't that clean. For 2, most single guys don't dust, and for 3, most dog-owners have a hard time keeping things up. Almost suspicious. If he had spent the whole day cleaning, that's a plus. But, if the guy's a neat-freak, that could spell danger.
More tomorrow.
5.24.2005
5.23.2005
Who in Hell are You? (part 2)
(this is part 2. If you haven't read part one, scroll down and read the previous post before reading this one.)
He did not, however hold the door to his car open for me and that definately deserves a strike against him.
Manners: 1 point.
Once we were underway, I asked to use his cell phone so I could call step-sister (let's call her "Bugs". No idea why.) He didn't bitch about minutes and the phone was top-notch.
Bling: 0 points.
On the drive, we talked and discovered that we had both attended the same elementary school and the same middle school. Kinda cool in my book, since I don't know anyone else who grew up in my hood anymore, let alone some random person. We also talked alot about music, which is always a way in which I size up anyone I meet. As I mentioned earlier, he is a Van Halen fan. Although not a favorite with me, I recognize their place as rock legends. He is a Sammy Hagar man. I like David Lee Roth oh so much better.
Conversation: 0 points.
Musical Taste: 1 point.
That's going to have to be it for tonight. I'll continue this tomorrow.
He did not, however hold the door to his car open for me and that definately deserves a strike against him.
Manners: 1 point.
Once we were underway, I asked to use his cell phone so I could call step-sister (let's call her "Bugs". No idea why.) He didn't bitch about minutes and the phone was top-notch.
Bling: 0 points.
On the drive, we talked and discovered that we had both attended the same elementary school and the same middle school. Kinda cool in my book, since I don't know anyone else who grew up in my hood anymore, let alone some random person. We also talked alot about music, which is always a way in which I size up anyone I meet. As I mentioned earlier, he is a Van Halen fan. Although not a favorite with me, I recognize their place as rock legends. He is a Sammy Hagar man. I like David Lee Roth oh so much better.
Conversation: 0 points.
Musical Taste: 1 point.
That's going to have to be it for tonight. I'll continue this tomorrow.
Who in Hell are You?
Before we get to the juicy details, I need to address Shen's comment on the last post. In case you're too lazy to "click" on the comments at the end of said post, let me summarize: Could I please come up with a more suitable (i.e. shorter) nickname for each of the men involved.? Why certainly, anything for the Great Gor-Gor! (....thunder....)
We will call date-boy by the nickname "Van", since he's way into Van Halen. We will heretofore address graduate stoner boy by the moniker "Bruce", since he's got arms like Bruce Lee (drool). And thus, it begins...
I've decided to adopt a "3 strikes and you're out" policy for my date analysis. Each category will be scored on a 3 point system, 3 being the worst and 0 the best. Each time the date-ee improves his/her performance, a point will be subtracted. Each time the situation worsens, or does not improve, a point will be added. If the date in question reaches 3 points in each category, the dating will end. Let the scoring commence...
I didn't end up ditching my date on Friday after all, although, for about 15 minutes, I thought he had ditched me. Thinking it wise, I had called ahead and made reservations at the restaurant. I got all dolled up, in my black velvet dress, make-up, black-spiked collar and new bondage sandals. (The policy is the try to scare the crap out of them on the first date.) I was anxious to leave, but I remembered that you're supposed to make the guy wait for some reason. My cab driver took his sweet time picking me up. I arrived at the Olive Garden, checked in, and stood outside, hoping to intercept Van. There wasn't much of a crowd, but nearly everyone gave me odd looks. A little boy stared at me for about 5 minutes. Then, I was seated, sans date. I sat there by myself for a while, before all the dots were connected and the waitstaff realized that my date had already been seated at another table on the other side of the restaurant.
With a nervous and unsteady step, I followed the hostess through a maze of tables. Van sat alone, looking at his cell phone. I smiled, sat myself down, and promptly ordered a glass of the house red. I panicked for a second when I realized that Van wasn't as attractive as I had remembered from my hazy night at the club and I wondered if I was just as shocking to him. No, I'm not going to score the man on looks, because I'm hardly that shallow.
He was all dressed up and although he wasn't wearing Versace, at least he bothered: 3 points.
Conversation progressed tentatively at first. We talked about Bruce a little and how I managed to track down Van's number. I told him about my "series of operatives" working under cover. I was thankful that he didn't order a big, buttery steak. Intentional or not? We talked about why I don't eat seafood.
Food: 1 point.
He picked up the check. Paid with a debit card. I'm not going to score on that, since I can't decide if I'm more impressed by cash or suspicious of it. At least it shows that he has a bank account, unlike myself, who is way to shady to have the credit required for a bank accout. He didn't ask if I wanted dessert, but he didn't bitch when I ordered several glasses of wine. I asked if he wouldn't mind driving to the club where we were to meet my step-sister.
When I followed him out to the parking lot, he couldn't find his car! Although he expressed his embarassment, I thought it was really cute!!
Cute: 0 points.
He drives a red Dodge sportscar with a sunroof. I'm thinking that it might be early 90's.
Car: 0 points.
(I'm going to post this now, because I was just rudely disconnected and barely had time to copy this much)
We will call date-boy by the nickname "Van", since he's way into Van Halen. We will heretofore address graduate stoner boy by the moniker "Bruce", since he's got arms like Bruce Lee (drool). And thus, it begins...
I've decided to adopt a "3 strikes and you're out" policy for my date analysis. Each category will be scored on a 3 point system, 3 being the worst and 0 the best. Each time the date-ee improves his/her performance, a point will be subtracted. Each time the situation worsens, or does not improve, a point will be added. If the date in question reaches 3 points in each category, the dating will end. Let the scoring commence...
I didn't end up ditching my date on Friday after all, although, for about 15 minutes, I thought he had ditched me. Thinking it wise, I had called ahead and made reservations at the restaurant. I got all dolled up, in my black velvet dress, make-up, black-spiked collar and new bondage sandals. (The policy is the try to scare the crap out of them on the first date.) I was anxious to leave, but I remembered that you're supposed to make the guy wait for some reason. My cab driver took his sweet time picking me up. I arrived at the Olive Garden, checked in, and stood outside, hoping to intercept Van. There wasn't much of a crowd, but nearly everyone gave me odd looks. A little boy stared at me for about 5 minutes. Then, I was seated, sans date. I sat there by myself for a while, before all the dots were connected and the waitstaff realized that my date had already been seated at another table on the other side of the restaurant.
With a nervous and unsteady step, I followed the hostess through a maze of tables. Van sat alone, looking at his cell phone. I smiled, sat myself down, and promptly ordered a glass of the house red. I panicked for a second when I realized that Van wasn't as attractive as I had remembered from my hazy night at the club and I wondered if I was just as shocking to him. No, I'm not going to score the man on looks, because I'm hardly that shallow.
He was all dressed up and although he wasn't wearing Versace, at least he bothered: 3 points.
Conversation progressed tentatively at first. We talked about Bruce a little and how I managed to track down Van's number. I told him about my "series of operatives" working under cover. I was thankful that he didn't order a big, buttery steak. Intentional or not? We talked about why I don't eat seafood.
Food: 1 point.
He picked up the check. Paid with a debit card. I'm not going to score on that, since I can't decide if I'm more impressed by cash or suspicious of it. At least it shows that he has a bank account, unlike myself, who is way to shady to have the credit required for a bank accout. He didn't ask if I wanted dessert, but he didn't bitch when I ordered several glasses of wine. I asked if he wouldn't mind driving to the club where we were to meet my step-sister.
When I followed him out to the parking lot, he couldn't find his car! Although he expressed his embarassment, I thought it was really cute!!
Cute: 0 points.
He drives a red Dodge sportscar with a sunroof. I'm thinking that it might be early 90's.
Car: 0 points.
(I'm going to post this now, because I was just rudely disconnected and barely had time to copy this much)
5.20.2005
Let's Meet for a Date in Hell
Tonight, I have a date. It's the first time I've gone on a date since I was granted my divorce. Actually, it's the first time since waaay before I was even married. Considering the number of guys I've "been with", I've had surprisingly few of what you would call "dates". Tonight, it's the guy from the bar. Not the bartender, but the guy I was dancing with. Bartender never called me, but I didn't really expect him to. This guy didn't call me either. I managed to track him down. Sheesh! Does a girl have to do all the work these days? There used to be a day when a man would hold the door for a woman. Now it's "why don't you be on top?"
So I called this guy the other night and had to leave a message. I sounded like some giggly, high-school dorky girl. When I got home from work yesterday, there was a message on the machine. He sounded kinda giddy and excited and I think that's what got me. I called back and reached him, apparently getting stoned and watching Star Wars with his friend. We're going to meet at the Olive Garden, primarily because it's one of the few easy to find restaurants in town with vegitarian options. I tried to go to Applebee's once - not a single damn thing on the menu without meat!! Fuck you Applebee's!! I even offered to go to Taco Bell. Where in hell are my standards?
After dinner, we're going to meet my step-sister and her friends at a bar downtown. Then, I'm going to get laid. "So confident?" you say? Trust me, it won't be much of a challenge. In fact, if I don't end up getting laid tonight - the next round is on me.
At first, I was really excited. Now, I'm kind of dreading the situation. Why did I decide to call this guy and go out on a date? Wouldn't I rather just go home and relax, do the cleaning I've been putting off, rest up for yoga class tomorrow? After all, I don't know if I really like the guy all that much. After surfing MCR websites all day, I don't really want to be within 10 feet of anyone who doesn't look like Gerard Way. Seriously contemplating only dating men with the name "Gerard" or remaining celebate until I get to meet the man himself.
But then again, doesn't this guy deserve a chance? I mean, he was recommended by the guy I've been crushing on for years. Does that even make sense? I guess what I'm doing is testing. I'm testing to see if I've "still got it", testing to see if I'm ready to date again, testing this guy out. So, I'm not going to bail. I'm going to go through with it. Here's the plan - get really wasted and...no...wait...that's the usual plan...
So I called this guy the other night and had to leave a message. I sounded like some giggly, high-school dorky girl. When I got home from work yesterday, there was a message on the machine. He sounded kinda giddy and excited and I think that's what got me. I called back and reached him, apparently getting stoned and watching Star Wars with his friend. We're going to meet at the Olive Garden, primarily because it's one of the few easy to find restaurants in town with vegitarian options. I tried to go to Applebee's once - not a single damn thing on the menu without meat!! Fuck you Applebee's!! I even offered to go to Taco Bell. Where in hell are my standards?
After dinner, we're going to meet my step-sister and her friends at a bar downtown. Then, I'm going to get laid. "So confident?" you say? Trust me, it won't be much of a challenge. In fact, if I don't end up getting laid tonight - the next round is on me.
At first, I was really excited. Now, I'm kind of dreading the situation. Why did I decide to call this guy and go out on a date? Wouldn't I rather just go home and relax, do the cleaning I've been putting off, rest up for yoga class tomorrow? After all, I don't know if I really like the guy all that much. After surfing MCR websites all day, I don't really want to be within 10 feet of anyone who doesn't look like Gerard Way. Seriously contemplating only dating men with the name "Gerard" or remaining celebate until I get to meet the man himself.
But then again, doesn't this guy deserve a chance? I mean, he was recommended by the guy I've been crushing on for years. Does that even make sense? I guess what I'm doing is testing. I'm testing to see if I've "still got it", testing to see if I'm ready to date again, testing this guy out. So, I'm not going to bail. I'm going to go through with it. Here's the plan - get really wasted and...no...wait...that's the usual plan...
5.17.2005
What In Hell Did I Do Last Night?
Well, guess who had lots of fun this weekend?
Saturday night I went to a friend's graduation party at a local bar I'd never been to. The graduate in question is a guy that I've had a crush on for what seems like forever. Anyway, the night started slow... I hate when I'm the first person to get to a shindig. I feel like such a sober dork wandering around the bar by myself. The bar was DEAD when I got there too.
I'm always so awkward in these situations. I don't really dance until I'm completely wasted (we'll get to that part), so I chain-smoke and try to lean against something and make it look natural. I have to express my endless admiration for Shenry, who can just start gettin' down right away and make it look good. If I was a super-hero, that would be one of the super powers I'd wish for. Of course, Shen is a super-hero, so who am I to compare? I felt such a sense of relief when he and his wife appeared. I can always talk to her while I hang out by the wall.
I remember speaking with her (I'm not sure what her online moniker is) at one point. I had just gotten a Long Island Iced-tea from the bar and it tasted like a cup of fresh squeezed ass. I had been complaining to her that the Amaretto sours I had been sipping weren't doing the trick. She suggested that I chug the nasty "iced tea". So, I followed her suggestion and almost gagged. The last thing I can really remember clearly was Shen's wife saying to me, "Don't worry. You'll feel it in a minute."
What couldn't have been more than 10 seconds later, I was out on the dance floor, doing things that are probably illegal in most states. I remember stumbling up to graduate-boy and whispering in his ear that I'd had a crush on him since I was 12. (I feel like such an ass!) His response was something like, "That's cool, but you should check out my friend who apparently has the hots for you." My thoughts - "Oh, that must have been the guy who was kissing my neck and feeling me up while I was grinding my ass against his jock." I can only console myself with the assumption that everyone else was as wasted as I was and that no one will remember my drunken antics. I feel like I should call the guy up and at least get his name. I kinda blew him off.
I had also invited my step-sister who lived close by. I'd bailed on her a couple of times recently and felt I owed her an invite. It's a good thing she came, because I ended up crashing at her house. The two of us went downstairs and sat at the bar. We proceeded to down several shots and flirt with the bartender. The bartender threw ice down my shirt and we ended up eating face. Yes, I say "eating face".
Back upstairs, where I had my ass smacked numerous times by persons unknown and gave out a round of ass-grabbing myself. Um...I hope you're wife's not too pissed off at me Shen...
Damn. I thought that after my divorce, I would shape up a bit; not be so wild, more responsible. But, now that I'm free again I'm almost as crazy as I was back in my Austin days. Only difference is, I'm much older and I can feel it. Thank god my step-sister was there. I was able to drive the few blocks to her house and crash on her couch. She likes to throw drinks at me, but she always takes care of me.
At the beginning of the night, I was wearing a t-shirt that says, "Complicated." How ironic.
Saturday night I went to a friend's graduation party at a local bar I'd never been to. The graduate in question is a guy that I've had a crush on for what seems like forever. Anyway, the night started slow... I hate when I'm the first person to get to a shindig. I feel like such a sober dork wandering around the bar by myself. The bar was DEAD when I got there too.
I'm always so awkward in these situations. I don't really dance until I'm completely wasted (we'll get to that part), so I chain-smoke and try to lean against something and make it look natural. I have to express my endless admiration for Shenry, who can just start gettin' down right away and make it look good. If I was a super-hero, that would be one of the super powers I'd wish for. Of course, Shen is a super-hero, so who am I to compare? I felt such a sense of relief when he and his wife appeared. I can always talk to her while I hang out by the wall.
I remember speaking with her (I'm not sure what her online moniker is) at one point. I had just gotten a Long Island Iced-tea from the bar and it tasted like a cup of fresh squeezed ass. I had been complaining to her that the Amaretto sours I had been sipping weren't doing the trick. She suggested that I chug the nasty "iced tea". So, I followed her suggestion and almost gagged. The last thing I can really remember clearly was Shen's wife saying to me, "Don't worry. You'll feel it in a minute."
What couldn't have been more than 10 seconds later, I was out on the dance floor, doing things that are probably illegal in most states. I remember stumbling up to graduate-boy and whispering in his ear that I'd had a crush on him since I was 12. (I feel like such an ass!) His response was something like, "That's cool, but you should check out my friend who apparently has the hots for you." My thoughts - "Oh, that must have been the guy who was kissing my neck and feeling me up while I was grinding my ass against his jock." I can only console myself with the assumption that everyone else was as wasted as I was and that no one will remember my drunken antics. I feel like I should call the guy up and at least get his name. I kinda blew him off.
I had also invited my step-sister who lived close by. I'd bailed on her a couple of times recently and felt I owed her an invite. It's a good thing she came, because I ended up crashing at her house. The two of us went downstairs and sat at the bar. We proceeded to down several shots and flirt with the bartender. The bartender threw ice down my shirt and we ended up eating face. Yes, I say "eating face".
Back upstairs, where I had my ass smacked numerous times by persons unknown and gave out a round of ass-grabbing myself. Um...I hope you're wife's not too pissed off at me Shen...
Damn. I thought that after my divorce, I would shape up a bit; not be so wild, more responsible. But, now that I'm free again I'm almost as crazy as I was back in my Austin days. Only difference is, I'm much older and I can feel it. Thank god my step-sister was there. I was able to drive the few blocks to her house and crash on her couch. She likes to throw drinks at me, but she always takes care of me.
At the beginning of the night, I was wearing a t-shirt that says, "Complicated." How ironic.
5.13.2005
The Next Round In Hell Is On Me
So, I went out to the club last night. I'm realizing now that I'm not as young as I used to be. Can you believe I used to work 2 jobs and party every night 'til 3? Now, one solid night of drinking and staying out late takes me 3 days to recover from. Yet, here I am at work, trudging through the day. Maybe I'm not in such bad shape after all. I was even 15 minutes early to work!
I've had about an hour and a half of sleep. I must look like the living dead. My new job has me up and running about most of the time, so that has been keeping me from falling asleep. But, the music in the office is grating on my nerves!! "Urge to kill...rising..." (the Loco Motion?)
I met someone by chance who happened to be a reader of my old blog! I didn't realize that anyone but my friends ever read my odd ramblings. It was actually very flattering, like meeting a fan or something.
Then there was this guy at the club who wanted some attention from me. To begin with, he was really unattractive. Add to that, he was so drunk that I couldn't understand what he was saying. I think he said something about, didn't he "see me" at Hot Topic? Something idiotic. He moved away from me a little and motioned for me to follow him or dance with him.
It's the first time anything like that has happened to me. I'm not usually shakin' my ass anywhere, let alone a club. When I was back in my hay day, I always used to hang at the clubs with my friends - who all happened to be guys. Walking into a club with a bunch of guys is a sure-fire way to make sure that you don't get hit on. That can be both good and bad.
Anyway, I just waved the guy off. Really, really not anywhere near interested! (Now if I could just get the guy at the porn shop to give me a call)
I've had about an hour and a half of sleep. I must look like the living dead. My new job has me up and running about most of the time, so that has been keeping me from falling asleep. But, the music in the office is grating on my nerves!! "Urge to kill...rising..." (the Loco Motion?)
I met someone by chance who happened to be a reader of my old blog! I didn't realize that anyone but my friends ever read my odd ramblings. It was actually very flattering, like meeting a fan or something.
Then there was this guy at the club who wanted some attention from me. To begin with, he was really unattractive. Add to that, he was so drunk that I couldn't understand what he was saying. I think he said something about, didn't he "see me" at Hot Topic? Something idiotic. He moved away from me a little and motioned for me to follow him or dance with him.
It's the first time anything like that has happened to me. I'm not usually shakin' my ass anywhere, let alone a club. When I was back in my hay day, I always used to hang at the clubs with my friends - who all happened to be guys. Walking into a club with a bunch of guys is a sure-fire way to make sure that you don't get hit on. That can be both good and bad.
Anyway, I just waved the guy off. Really, really not anywhere near interested! (Now if I could just get the guy at the porn shop to give me a call)
5.11.2005
The Bathroom in Hell
The Ladies' room at work isn't generally so bad. There are flowers, lotion and an air freshner that despenses perfumed air in timed disbursements. Normally, there are plenty of stalls and you can use the handicapped sink so you don't have to hold down the hot and cold when you want to wash your hands.
All in all, restrooms here aren't so bad on the scale of public facilities. But, every once in a while, there's someone else in the room. One of my biggest annoyances is having to share the restroom! There's the fat lady, who doesn't feel the need to stifle the panting and grunting sounds she makes and she tries to haul her ass onto the seat. Then, there's the skinny girl with the bad attitude who zooms on by the sink and doesn't even pretend to wash her hands. Anyone who doesn't wash their hands after using the commode should be shot. No trial, No jury - straight to execution!! Thirdly, there is the chatty middle-aged woman who doesn't give a thought to privacy or the delicacy of the situation and wants to talk to you from the other side of the stall. Finally, there is one handicapped woman in my office. She is in a wheelchair. Aside from yeilding the handicap-code-compliant amenities, I am always at an embarassed and awkward loss when it comes to helping this person. I mean, should I try to hold the door open, should I offer assistance in some way, should I talk to her? Every time I've encountered her, I don't speak and merely flail my arms about in an effort to signal both my willingness to help and reluctance to interfere.
One last complaint about the stalls themselves. The seat is almost always wet. This creeps me out almost enough to buy a few bottles of Purell and carry them around with me. I can never tell if the wetness is due to lack of aim on someone's part or the flush-backlash kicking water back up on the seat. If it's not backlash, it's in entirely the wrong area. Why do they even offer those paper seat liner thingies? If the seat is wet, fluid is going to soak up through the flimsy material anyway. Are they meant inspire some sort of false security in the user. It's not as if they're going to block moisture, STDs or anything basically. Are they even sanitary?
It's all I can do to keep from having a panic attack every time I round that corner.
All in all, restrooms here aren't so bad on the scale of public facilities. But, every once in a while, there's someone else in the room. One of my biggest annoyances is having to share the restroom! There's the fat lady, who doesn't feel the need to stifle the panting and grunting sounds she makes and she tries to haul her ass onto the seat. Then, there's the skinny girl with the bad attitude who zooms on by the sink and doesn't even pretend to wash her hands. Anyone who doesn't wash their hands after using the commode should be shot. No trial, No jury - straight to execution!! Thirdly, there is the chatty middle-aged woman who doesn't give a thought to privacy or the delicacy of the situation and wants to talk to you from the other side of the stall. Finally, there is one handicapped woman in my office. She is in a wheelchair. Aside from yeilding the handicap-code-compliant amenities, I am always at an embarassed and awkward loss when it comes to helping this person. I mean, should I try to hold the door open, should I offer assistance in some way, should I talk to her? Every time I've encountered her, I don't speak and merely flail my arms about in an effort to signal both my willingness to help and reluctance to interfere.
One last complaint about the stalls themselves. The seat is almost always wet. This creeps me out almost enough to buy a few bottles of Purell and carry them around with me. I can never tell if the wetness is due to lack of aim on someone's part or the flush-backlash kicking water back up on the seat. If it's not backlash, it's in entirely the wrong area. Why do they even offer those paper seat liner thingies? If the seat is wet, fluid is going to soak up through the flimsy material anyway. Are they meant inspire some sort of false security in the user. It's not as if they're going to block moisture, STDs or anything basically. Are they even sanitary?
It's all I can do to keep from having a panic attack every time I round that corner.
5.10.2005
Hell can be fun
I've developed a new amusement for myself at work. I like to jump into an elevator and close the doors right as someone's coming up to get in. Hee hee hee. Oh, the fun I've had.
Here's the technique:
1. Memorize where the "close door" and floor button for your stop are.
2. Jump into the elevator just as someone's approaching. You may have to practice to get the timing just right.
3. Jam the "close door" button in and then hit your floor button, while simultaniously pressing yourself against the elevator wall where you can't be seen. This is important because people get really pissed off when you don't hold the doors.
4. Listen for pissed off comments from the people who didn't make it in. This is the best part!
Risks involved:
Someone might see who you are and spread nasty rumors or give dirty looks.
Someone (mostly men do this) might shove their arm into the doorway as it's closing and board the elevator. Then you have to endure their scowls until they disembark.
Remember though, if you take up this past-time, you forfeit the right to be pissed off when you miss the elevator.
It's endlessly amusing! Mwa ha ha ha ha!
Here's the technique:
1. Memorize where the "close door" and floor button for your stop are.
2. Jump into the elevator just as someone's approaching. You may have to practice to get the timing just right.
3. Jam the "close door" button in and then hit your floor button, while simultaniously pressing yourself against the elevator wall where you can't be seen. This is important because people get really pissed off when you don't hold the doors.
4. Listen for pissed off comments from the people who didn't make it in. This is the best part!
Risks involved:
Someone might see who you are and spread nasty rumors or give dirty looks.
Someone (mostly men do this) might shove their arm into the doorway as it's closing and board the elevator. Then you have to endure their scowls until they disembark.
Remember though, if you take up this past-time, you forfeit the right to be pissed off when you miss the elevator.
It's endlessly amusing! Mwa ha ha ha ha!
5.06.2005
Mornings are Spawned from Hell
In order for me to get up on time this morning, it took 1 alarm clock, 1 wake-up call from a friend, and 1 knock on my door from Dad. This is the second day in a row that I have managed to arrive at work on time.
It doesn't seem to matter what time I wake up - I always feel like crap! Mornings are the most punishing of all moments. It could be partly due to my medication. It could be partly due to my drinking. It could also be partly due to the fact that I find it impossible to sleep before 11 pm, sometimes midnight.
I have been known to sleep for 12 hours straight through. I am the last person you want to run across in the morning. If I don't have to be anywhere, and someone wakes me up for no reason - you'd better look out!! I need my cigarette and my coffee and to be left alone. Unfortunatly, this causes a conflict with my current living situation. At the moment, I'm living with my father. My father is an early riser. Very early. That's bad enough, but he seems to feel that no one else has a right to sleep in later than he does. So, often on the weekends I find myself up late working on the multitude of projects I entertain myself with. Then, on the 1 or 2 days out of the week that I have the chance to sleep in - my dad is crashing around the house!!! Either that, or the cats are jumping on my head.
No rest for the wicked I suppose.
It doesn't seem to matter what time I wake up - I always feel like crap! Mornings are the most punishing of all moments. It could be partly due to my medication. It could be partly due to my drinking. It could also be partly due to the fact that I find it impossible to sleep before 11 pm, sometimes midnight.
I have been known to sleep for 12 hours straight through. I am the last person you want to run across in the morning. If I don't have to be anywhere, and someone wakes me up for no reason - you'd better look out!! I need my cigarette and my coffee and to be left alone. Unfortunatly, this causes a conflict with my current living situation. At the moment, I'm living with my father. My father is an early riser. Very early. That's bad enough, but he seems to feel that no one else has a right to sleep in later than he does. So, often on the weekends I find myself up late working on the multitude of projects I entertain myself with. Then, on the 1 or 2 days out of the week that I have the chance to sleep in - my dad is crashing around the house!!! Either that, or the cats are jumping on my head.
No rest for the wicked I suppose.
5.05.2005
The Marriage from Hell
Well, well, well. So, it's finally rolled around to Cinco De Mayo again. I HATE May 5th!!
No, I hold no prejudice against Mexico or it's independence. For me, this day has an entirely different and altogether more sinister meaning.
Two years ago, exactly on this day, I marched into a courthouse in San Diego and proceeded to make one of the worst decisions of my life. Doomed myself to a year and a half of misery. - I got married. Thankfully, I'm divorced now. Oh, thank the gods!!
I wasn't the first failed marriage for my ex. He had another wife before. She had been with him for 8 years! She must have been completely psycho.
Hello single life, again! I must make it my goal to sleep with another man each year on this date - just to amuse myself at the thought of how pissed my ex would be if he only knew.
No, I hold no prejudice against Mexico or it's independence. For me, this day has an entirely different and altogether more sinister meaning.
Two years ago, exactly on this day, I marched into a courthouse in San Diego and proceeded to make one of the worst decisions of my life. Doomed myself to a year and a half of misery. - I got married. Thankfully, I'm divorced now. Oh, thank the gods!!
I wasn't the first failed marriage for my ex. He had another wife before. She had been with him for 8 years! She must have been completely psycho.
Hello single life, again! I must make it my goal to sleep with another man each year on this date - just to amuse myself at the thought of how pissed my ex would be if he only knew.
5.01.2005
Welcome to Hell
Welcome to Little Tragedies. This is the resurrection of Nekoecho and the third rebirth of Neko's Rainy Day. I live again!
But, like most undead creatures, this incarnation is a bit more gnarly, gory, dark and a great deal more morbid than the original. I'm not the woman you once knew...
But, I am really tired. So, I'm going to go to bed and clean up this mess later.
But, like most undead creatures, this incarnation is a bit more gnarly, gory, dark and a great deal more morbid than the original. I'm not the woman you once knew...
But, I am really tired. So, I'm going to go to bed and clean up this mess later.
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