Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Retarded Goldilocks

Leave it to me to f up a perfectly decent guy situation and then wonder why I don't have a boyfriend.

After my 8th grade moment last Monday when "The Hottest Guy I've Ever Met"--let's just refer to him as "Hot" from now on shall we?-- came over to watch a movie (but didn't make a move), I decided to go ahead and reenact the same scenario that I've been happily reenacting with men/boys since high school.

This scenario includes me being so insecure and retarded that I can't wait even one day after I've hung out with said guy to find out if he still likes me.  Um...really?  Because someone can all of a sudden stop liking you for no apparent reason after you watch a movie together and barely interact at all?  REALLY?  THAT can ruin it?!?!?

Well, yes, according to my psychotic mind it can.  So I act.  I contact said guy to test the waters and get a feel for where they are and how they are feeling, etc.

(God this is so pathetic I should NOT have a blog and tell people how lame I really am.)

So, this contact is obviously totally unnecessary and only serves to fuel the fire of my insecurity because what usually happens is the guy can sense the desperation and it scares them off and then I can sense that that's what's happening and then of course the thing I was worried about all along (that they don't like me anymore) starts to become a self-fulfilling prophecy.  And so the story goes.  I'm exhausted just thinking about it.

In my defense though...what kind of a guy comes over to your house and lays on your bed cuddling with you and DOESN'T make a move?  Maybe I should change his name from "Hot" to "Gay"...I mean...I think anybody would be confused by that.  Especially when the text you sent inviting him over reads:

"Come over so we can make out".

I mean...am I wrong?

To add insult to injury, I'm sitting in freakin' Yoga class all day long learning about how to be present to the moment, be less reactive, accept reality and "what is", and the like...and I get it!  I do.  I really really do.  So, now I'm not only bad at boys...I'm bad at Yoga too.  But at least I'm really good at looking like an idiot...everybody should have at least one talent.

To be fair, I have to take back the desperate comment that I made earlier.  I'm FAR from desperate.  If I were desperate, I wouldn't be single.  I could easily have someone and have turned down quite a few men since I started writing this blog five months ago.  But, like Goldilocks, I'm looking for one that's Juuuuust Riiiiight.  And I sure hell am not going to be able to figure out who that is if I keep this shit up.

And I don't want to hear any bullshit about how using the word "retarded" in this manner is un PC.  The American Heritage Desk Dictionary definition of "Retarded" is as follows:

redarded (ri-tar'did) adj. Slow or backward in mental or emotional development.

If what I described above doesn't fit that definition then I don't know what does.  So, yeah...on top of everything...I'm ACTUALLY retarded.  Maybe I should start taking the short bus...maybe someone who's "Just Right" will be on there and we can live happily ever  after.

ROFL!!!!

Okay, I'm not really ROFL.

Anyway, I can't take ALL of the blame.  If any of these dudes could express themselves and show or tell me how they feel then I wouldn't have to wonder and go through all of this horrifying nonsense.

So here's the thing.  DUDES!  If you don't really like me that much, STOP F#$%ING ASKING ME OUT!  IT'S F#$%ING CONFUSING!  And if you do like me.  Show it...or Say it.  It doesn't hurt, I promise.

So...where do things stand with "Hot" now?  I dunno...we are still speaking, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me anymore.  After re-reading this blog, I'm not even sure if I like me anymore!  Maybe I should call him and ask.  Just kidding.

I need to go take a nap now...and for the time being I'm just going to sleep in my own bed...cause we all remember what happened to Goldilocks.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Open Your Eyes

"Baby come back, any kind of fool could see
There was something in everything about you
Baby come back, you can blame it all on me
I was wrong, and I just can't live without you"

Guess what the name of the band who sang that song was??

Go ahead, guess!

The name of the band was "Player”.

Yeah.  Player.  I meeeeeaaaannn…

If I had a nickel for every guy who came crawling back to me a day late and a dollar short…well, let’s just say, I’d have a pocket full of nickels.

What the hell is it with dudes these days?  Seriously!

I had a guy dump me two years ago via text and I saw him in the street later that same day and he saw me and drove away as I waved at him to come talk to me.  Ummmm…really?  It’s not like I was walking down the street with a freakin’ pickax…what did he think I was going to do to him?...Yell him to death?

This same jackass had the nerve to tell me six months later that if I would give him another chance he would cherish every hair on my head forever and ever…or some bullshit. 

Fool musta done gone and lost his mind!

And this went on for like 3 months before I finally just blocked his number and his email so that I wouldn’t have to read his sorry ass messages anymore.  For all I know, he’s been emailing me to this day…oh, and he tried to friend me on Facebook a few weeks ago. 

Um…no.


Two nights ago I had a guy tell me in all sincerity "I love you".   And he meant it in the "I don't want to just be friends" way.


I hadn't seen or heard from him in several years.


Um, what?

Is it too much to ask that a guy stop being so f$%#ing blinded by fear that he can see you clearly the FIRST time around?!  Cause listen up fellas…once we are done with you…we are DONE WITH YOU! 

Unless we aren’t done with you. 

Cause that happened to me a couple of times too.  A guy dumps me in the most horrible way imaginable (meaning, not in person and not with any sort of compassion attached) and then a year or five later they come back and I let them try to make it up to me.

They never do.  It’s always an EXACT replica of the first time they treated you like shit.

I was sort of under the impression that if you wanted to win someone back, that you were supposed to CHANGE your crappy behavior into less crappy behavior.  Wrong.

I can’t blame men completely.  Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.

But I do find it funny that no matter who they were, how involved the relationship was, how horrifying the ending was, what ridiculous things you said to one another…they always come back.  Each and every single last one of them.

I’d really like to stop adding men to this list.  I feel that Mr. 8th Grade Moment from my last blog is Jonesing to get on this list.  I don't think I can do anything to stop him.  


What men are so afraid of I will never know.  Last time I checked, love was pretty awesome, but I dunno...it was kind of a long time ago, maybe I'm remembering it wrong.

Is there anyone out there who doesn’t need to lose me first in order to appreciate my awesomeness?

Anyone?

Anyone?
Bueller?...


Tuesday, April 20, 2010

36 Going on 13

Remember your first crush?

Remember mooning the hours away over a guy who you never thought in a million years would give you a second look?

Remember what it felt like to discover how wrong you were and that against all odds he liked you too?

I do.

I was in 8th grade.  His name was "Vincent".

Vincent was the sweetest guy I had ever known.  Always had a smile on his face and had these sort of chipmunk like cheeks.  He was really really cute.  And he was my best friend.

After having lunch with him every single day for 1/2 of the school year, I remember the day that I FINALLY took it upon myself to tell him I had a crush on him...you know what he said to me?, "That's funny because I had a crush on you all through 7th grade and I never told anyone."

Jeez.  Now what if I had never said anything?  Then that 8th grade graduation day at Marriott's Great America would never have been as fun and the first love letter of my young adult life would never have happened.  We would have been two ships passing in the night (or given our age and size at the time...more like two paddle boats).

Over the years I have been conditioned not to be forward with men.  It has been beaten out of me.  "Guys don't like it when you do this"..."Guys don't like it when you do that"..."Play hard to get"..."Never call a man"..."blah blibbity f*ing blah blah".

You know what?  Shut your face haters.  Because it worked in 7th grade...and it STILL works!

After trying to play by "The Rules" over the last year or two I have gotten absolutely nowhere.

Nowhere.

and I mean...NOWHERE with men.

So, I started thinking about the wisdom of my youth.  About who I used to be before the world told me I wasn't good enough.  I was a great big open heart who wanted people to just jump on in...the water's fine!  And dammit, there's nothing wrong with that.

So, yesterday I took it upon myself to do what I used to do best.  I let someone know how I felt.

If I hadn't said anything, yesterday would have just been the day that I stayed home recovering from my 36th birthday party the night before.  But because I'm 36 going on 13 it became the day that I spent with a beautiful man who I've been mooning over for almost a year...turns out, he likes me too.

It was every bit as thrilling and scary as it was in 8th grade.

When was the last time you watched a movie with the guy who makes your heart go pitter patter and every time your arms accidentally touch you smile on the inside from the thrill?  I feel lucky to be reminded of what that used to be like.

And the water's fine.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Got PMS?

Um...where the f*%$ is my mother f&*^ing pyramid???  (That's "period" for those of us who are slow...I stole the euphemism from a friend a few years back.)

Unless I'm giving birth to Jesus in nine months (cause that's the only person you can give birth to without actually having sexy time), something has gone terribly wrong.

If I am having Jesus...RAAAAAAAD!!!  I imagine there is a lot of free schwag involved.

So, I'm turning 36 in exactly one week, but apparently I'm already going through menopause.

Nice!

I'm happy to know that my body is starting to give up all hope that anything is ever going to want to live in my womb.  I guess it's thinking "What's the point of setting up shop like this month after month if nobodies every going to move in?"  Who can blame it...it's freakin' exhausting.

Imagine getting the house ready, doing the laundry, making up the guest rooms, buying the groceries, etc., for guests who keep postponing their trip (f$%^ing flakes)...Now imagine doing this every month for 22 years!!!  I say, TO HELL WITH 'EM!   They aren't coming, let's shut the place down and do some world travel!

...yeah...that's what I say...

(Let's ignore the fact that I could technically, biologically speaking, be the mother of a 22 year old human being right now-- The horrah!  THE HORRAAAAH!!!!)--EMPHASIS ON BIOLOGICALLY SPEAKING--cause I was a bit of a late bloomer--I played with Barbie's til I was 13...that child would have also had to have been Jesus.

To be fair, my pyramid is only five days late...and actually...I think I'm starting to get cramps right now, but as much as I hated my pyramid BEFORE it got all irregular on me, I REALLY hate it now.  As if painful cramps that feel like my internal organs are being squeezed between a rabid pit bull's jaws of death for two days weren't enough, now I have the added insult of being reminded that I'm really getting super duper old.

Like old enough to start needing hormone replacement therapy...and possibly a new hip.

Whatever.  At least I still look like I'm 25...okay...27.  At least that's what some dude told me earlier this week.

He was 22.

He asked me for my number.

No, I am not joking.

Well, on the bright side, Aunt Flo is probably still going to come to town from time to time, and probably for at least another decade or so, just not when she promises.  And that's okay.  Maybe I don't need to see her like clock work every 28 days.

She's kind of a bitch.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Please, Please Tell Me Who I Am

"There are times
when all the world's asleep,
but questions run too deep
for such a simple man.
Won't you please
please tell me what we've learned?
I know it sounds absurd.
Please Tell me who I am."

~Supertramp

I have to say, it's hard to write a sassy blog about a woman who is dissatisfied with her life because of the things that she DOES NOT HAVE, when she's spending up to 8 1/2 hours a day (some days--on others it's much less, but still...) studying Yoga and Yoga Philosophy (not that they are necessarily two different things).

Now, you can't know what I mean unless you too have studied this, and it would take me up to 8 1/2 hours a day to explain it to you and I simply don't have that kind of time, but the basic gist of things (well, there are several basic gists) is/are living in the moment, finding freedom from desire, patience...it goes on and on which is why Yogi's study their entire lives.

Anyway, how can I come to my desk and spew bologna about dudes, gossip about my friends, talk smack about celebrities and complain about unruly customers at the restaurant when I'm embarking on this other path?

As we all know, comedy is often cruel. I've been making people laugh my whole life. My quick wit, snappy comebacks, and under my breath comments have been bringing joy to the masses (okay, a few close friends and family at best--maybe a few strangers) since I was about 8 years old.

A lot of those laughs have come at another person's expense. Maybe they were unaware of it and so it did no harm, but it's still negativity being unleashed into the atmosphere. That can't be good.

Even as I write this, I can see the rolling eyes and hear the sighs of those who know me best.

I know. Barf.

Believe me. I know.

Transformation. It's another big theme in Yoga. And it's happening to me.

I do not suggest for even a moment that it's going to happen over night. It's gradual, very very very very (add about 100 more very's and we might get somewhat close) gradual, but it is already starting to happen. I can feel it. So, what does it mean?

Will I lose friends?
Will I become someone else?
Will I be lonely? (already got this one covered)
Will I lose parts of myself?
Will people think I am boring?
Will I still be funny?

What am I without those jokes?

Who am I?

Am I still me?

What am I going to write about if I can't write about all of the things that I see other people doing wrong? If I can't complain about men and how stupid they are...oh look...I'm still here after all:), if I can't complain at all...what am I going to say? Apparently it isn't going to matter. You know why? Because I will be working to simply accept what "is". I didn't want to write about this today. I really wish I had something else to talk about. But I don't. This is where I'm at. This is what is.

Save the suggestions about writing a Yoga blog. I'm not ready for that. That isn't who I am.

Yet.

For now, I'm still me...whoever that is.

Oooooooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmm...

Friday, April 2, 2010

Yessum Massa

So, last night at work was super duper fun!

I had a table of three women with two children who decided that I was the anti-christ and weren't afraid to say it.

Here's how it went down:

Me: Hi! How's everybody doing?

Women who's husbands are cheating on them apparently: Good thanks.

Me: Would you all like to start with something to drink?

Ugly Bitter F#$kfaces: Sure, we'll have (enter first bottle of wine here--they had two), Oh, and do you have chicken tenders for the kids?

Me: Yes, actually we do, but we don't serve them after 6:30 because the kitchen isn't prepped for that, I'm sorry. (It was 7:30)

(Now...here we go...strike once against me. Because obviously it's a conspiracy and we have NOTHING BUT chicken tenders in the kitchen, but I'm just NOT going to let these people have them...MMMMMWWWWWWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH)

Whores: Okay, well, do you have like 1/2 of a steak?

Me: Well, you can order the side of steak that comes with the salad...that's smaller.

(Look at me, being so nice and accomodating!)

Them: Okay, we'll take two of those (yada yada yada, etc.)

Later...

Me: Hi! How's everybody doing?

"Why did we get married and have children, we are sooo miserable!": Um, we asked for extra capers, sour cream and lemons and they haven't come yet.

Me: But you asked someone for them? (Just to clarify)

My husband hates me: Yes, can you go check to see if it's coming?

Me: If you already asked someone, then it's on it's way, but I will definitely go double check for you.

Bitch of the century: WELL IT'S TAKING A REALLY LONG TIME! (That means it's been about 10 seconds)

Me: (Looking around the room to see how busy it is). Yes, I'm sorry, but we are really really busy.

Later...

Me: Okay, so how is everybody doing?

Thing 1: Terrible actually. There is a bunch of stuff that we don't like.

Thing 2: We want to see a manager.

Me: Okay.

Now, let me just say that ALL of my other tables were happy as clams. And I was in a good mood last night, so I don't know what the f was up with these women, but anyway...

Those stupid entitled miserable c words told the manager that they were pissed off because I...get ready for this...BACK TALKED them!

Oooooooooooooooo, stop the presses...I "back talked" them! CALL THE POLICE!

First of all...what am I...nine?!

Second of all...I did not back talk them, I assured them that once they asked for something, it would indeed be on it's way. I do not see the problem with this, but I guess because I didn't shit a side of sour cream and capers out of my ass right there on the spot and hand it to them that now some heads were gonna roll! Oh, and they also said they thought I was being a bitch because I clearly don't like children. Ummmmmmm...

My manager asked them what would make them happy and they asked for another server.

Good. Later betches! (the misspelling is intentional...it's a Valley Girl accent just incase you didn't know)

So, I went on with my night and the rest of my happy tables and my happy self.

Later...

I'm seating a new table right next to Peroxide Hell's table and as I'm pulling the table out to seat my new guests...:

Thing 1: We still need to talk to you. (Enter venom in the tone of voice here.)

Me: Okay, I'm seating someone. I will be right with you.

Thing 2: DID YOU HEAR WHAT SHE JUST SAID TO YOU?!? OH, MY GOD! SHE IS SOOOO RUDE! (Loud enough for my new customers to hear.

Me: Okay, now what can I do for you?

Thing 2: YOU ARE SO RUDE. YOU DO NOT TALK TO CUSTOMERS THAT WAY. HOW DARE YOU BACK TALK US. (and a bunch of other horrifying nonsense that I don't remember)...

Me: Okay. BYE!

The End.

Turns out they wanted to tell me that they never got their side of fries that they ordered.

Um...what the f#$k does that have to do with me? If that was my problem, I would have fixed it, but since they banished me from their miserable kingdom, that became someone else's problem. Why they didn't tell their new and improved server this info is beyond me...or the manager even. I guess getting rid of me wasn't enough...we still had unfinished business and DAMN IT I was gonna PAAAAAYYYYYYY!

I'm sickened. Truly and utterly sickened.

And then to top things off...

Much much later...

Our number one Douchebag Customer, let's call him DOUCHEBAG, muttered something as I walked by.

DOUCHEBAG: mhlskhlmfsldh

Me: What?

DOUCHEBAG: WHAT!?

Me: I'm sorry, what did you say?

Keep in mind this person (who is a major coke head and drinks at least 10 beers at our establishment every single night) has not spoken to me in almost 3 weeks ever since he lost his shit because I turned the music down when some song he liked was blaring. (I did not do it to piss him off, I did it cause I had another customer in the restaurant...it was really late and they were the only two folks and it was inappropriately loud).

DOUCHEBAG: You can't figure it out? (again, with venom)

Me: (blank stare...cause I mean, seriously...am I in the twilight zone? what the hell is up with these people? and why do they think this is an appropriate way to treat others?...oh, cause the powers that be at said establishment let them...that's right. my bad. i forgot who was valued and important around here for a sec.)

DOUCHEBAG: Can I get another beer?

Me:

...and I just kept on walking.

So, I told the manager on duty to get it for him cause I sure as hell am not serving this person.

Ever again.

So, yeah, it was super fun! I can't wait to do it all over again really really soon.


The moral of the story is...when I am reincarnated after I die, I need to remember not to let myself get into a situation (i.e. waiting tables) where ignorant miserable people are allowed to treat me how ever they want and can totally get away with it because...

The Customer is Always Right.

Psh. As if.