haven't felt the need to update in a while. maybe because:
a. my computer is broken. currently on out-of-town roommate's laptop raiding itunes and burning CDs.
b. i work so freaking much. and when i'm not at work i am socializing or being with the boy or just plain ol' having sex in a laundry room.
c. my life is sort of amazingly PERFECT right now
(except for)
got home on friday night after (yes, just be jealous don't even try not to be) going with the boy on a sailing/indie filmmaking expedition in the san juan islands (pause. told you you would be jealous). he and his friends had a whole film crew out on the island with them to put together a project that had been in the works for a bout a year. couldn't stay for the whole 10 days of filming, but did join him for 3 days, living on the sailboat with him while our 20 or so amazing friends stayed in a giant rented vacation home right up the street from the dock.
every morning i woke up in this adorable little bed on the boat, wrapped up with the boy, being rocked by the waves in the tiny cove where we were docked. breakfast was always brought to me in bed, courtesy of the boy's surprising culinary skills. we would explore the island, go to the little village shops, meet the rest of the crew for picnics and, of course, work on all the exciting film sets. his friends (many of whom had never met me) were amazing, and all i heard was "you two are SO cute together." le sigh.
anyways, yes the most romantic, perfect little "weekend" of my life.
and now for the 'except for' part. i got back and noticed that something wasn't quite alright in the whole genitourinary system*. it seems that vacation timez plus sexy timez minus a working bathroom equals cranberry juice timez. if ya get my drift.
appendix!
genitourinary system: i was talking about a freakin' UTI, friends.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
officially official
you know your life is either really sad or really awesome when you find yourself at the corner market, counting change to see if you have enough money to purchase a three-pack of condoms and a ninety-nine cent box of kraft macaroni and cheese.
true story.
other sad/supremely awesome things: i just glanced outside to see what was making such a loud noise. apparently its a thing called a lawnmower, and it was being used by JOELORD.* apart from the noise caused by the thing that cuts down the jungle called our front yard, i heard a terrible crunch. i looked down and watched JOELORD fish out a crunched tallboy of olympia in the maze of weeds. welcome to my life.
life. liiiife. its gorgeous, hot outside, i am buzzed and pretty darn happy. money is momentarily UNDER CONTROL. worked a few prime serving shifts, made some moolah, put that shit in the bank, saved a coupla bucks, paid my bills AND had enough to buy a plane ticket to wisconsin for childhood-bestfriend's wedding in june (eeek weddings). suuuperb.
i spent all morning cuddling and making out and et-cet-era with my boyfriend. yes. yes. yes, i just used THAT word. wanna know why? 'cause i'm in a relationship. and we use titles. and i FREAKIN' CHANGED MY STATUS ON MYSPACE. okay, caps not necessary there, but...
backup! last week, in a late night "chat," i asked him what he thought about me. instead of skirting around the issue, i blurted out (once again), what is this? he hmmed and hawed a bunch, but i finally got the answer i was looking for. 'if what you're worried about is commitment, you don't have to be,' he said, looking me straight in the eye. 'i feel one hundred percent committed to you. that's not even an issue for me.' sigh. finally. the words i wanted to hear. i wish it didn't take so long for him to say it. or maybe it just took too long for me to ask it.
but still, no relationship? exclusivity? check. setting aside time for one another? check. commitment? check. but agreeing that we are in a freakin' relationship?? UNCHECKED!!!
so. it had been a busy week of not seeing the boy, both of us busy, working, school, his friend was in town, etc. im not going to lie, i wanted to see him pretty bad. i knew he was busy, but sometimes... well sometimes a girl has her needs! totally unrelated, of course, but after the embarrassing visit to the corner store market where old-grumpy-asian owner smirked at me for buying macaroni and condoms (and yes, the next day i made the same purchase only this time substituting the kraft for a red bull, and asian man full on laughed out loud. im over it), i hit up the PP.* showed them my 'i'm poor and fertile, please help me control the population' card (medical insurance card just for PP), they gave me a year's worth of birth control. i like to play it extra-safe, so i asked for some condoms on the side. the lady looked me up and down over her reading glasses and pushed a brown paper bag into my red face. i thanked her meekly and ran out with a giant purse full of contraceptives. upon reaching the bus stop, i peeked inside the goodies bag. there they were, thirty free condoms of the clinic's choosing. and they were all flavored. FML.
after realizing that they must have sized me up and immediately dug into the slutty stash of condoms, i got over it. free condoms is free condoms! the next few days were a blur of being called in to cover shifts (they know i live two blocks away and am desperate, whatever) and working my tail off. by thursday night, i needed to get out and get my drank on. i sent a quick text to the boy, asking him if he wanted to do karaoke at the crescent. he enthusiastically agreed.
side note. there's this funny test called the myers-brigg personality type indicator. i am OBSESSED with it. it gives you a four-letter result of how you act around others, respond to situations, think, feel, etc. i made the boy take it a while ago. out of sixteen possibilities, we turn out to be the EXACT same type. and it makes sense. we are both socially stretched thin, trying to keep up with EVERYBODY, wear our hearts on our sleeve(s), make decisions based on pure emotion, take in energy from being around others, forgetful, easily distracted, easily hurt, easily insecure, easily forgiving, and flaky to the max. sounds like a recipe for a giant up-and-down roller coaster of emotions, distrust, extreme showing of affection, fights and constant make-up sex?
uh, i mean.
anyways yes. he is ALWAYS late, distracted by friends, forgets to call. and i am the same way. i have just accepted it. i still get cranky. but whatev. so on this particular night, once the boy agreed to go to karaoke with me, i thought, excellent. it will take him three hours to get to capitol hill, so i have three hours to hang out with my other friends at oddfellows.
by 10, i was drinking with susie and, oddly enough, three of our old college guy friends. i hadn't hung out with them since, like, freshmen year. it was fun, but i was eager to convince everyone to get to the crescent. suddenly i got a text. 'at the crescent, where are you?' huh. that was early for him. maybe he actually bypassed the whole getting distracted by friends thing, for once! but then a sequel came through the cell phone airwaves. 'ps. i brought the roommate!'
...
my momentary good mood vanished. the roommate. i knew which one. and i was not happy. so, his roommate. 30. graphic designer. now for the straight up bitchy description. loud. drunk. grossly flirty. attention whore. and worst of all, she seems to know everything there is to know about comic books, movies and art. shit. how can i compete with that?
anyways, it seems like every time we hang out lately, SHE has to come along! movie date with the boy? how nice! he bought tickets! oh, wait, SHE is coming too? hangout at oddfellows? nice! lets get drinks! ...with HER. great. late night movie watching at his house? romantic? no, of course not, because SHE wants to watch movies too, and we have to watch them in HER room? ew. not cool. i dont mind her as a person, but seriously. stop getting drunk and getting all over MY man. bitch. please.
so, thursday night, midnight, i finally get susie plus the old college crew over to the crescent. the boy and his roomie are drunk and having the time of their lives. also, the roomie wants to now leave. but we just got here? i said politely. yeah, but we've been here two hours, she said, turning and walking out the door. i look at the boy for help. he shrugs, looks deeply conflicted, and then walks out after his roommate. i am pissed. more than pissed. i know they are just going up the street to another bar, but he just choose her side! that's not fair! he needs to choose MY side! i'm being an unreasonable bitch but i don't care!
the ol' college boys buy me two shots in quick succession, thankfully completely unaware of the situation at hand. i then storm out the door to find my wonderful boy. he is smoking in the alley with roommate girl. im ready to go to redwood, i announce, carelessly. we all walk in increments, the roommate wanting to get there, me making the boy walk slower as an act of defiance, the ol' college guys drunkenly and confusedly following (hey, where are we going? they keep asking) and susie, bringing up the rear, trying to contact her own manfriend via cellphone. what a mess.
at the redwood we pushed tables together for our growing group. half the table was college boys chanting 'chug chug chug!' and the other half was me, the boy and the roommate. more drinks were bought for me and downed. still angrily sober and unfortunately clear-thinking, i watched my boy get stupider and stupider. his roommate's voice was getting more and more shrill and loud. i was fuming. AND i was being completely ignored.
bitchy time. i turned to the college guys and starting laughing loudly, swapping old stories, and acting like it was the fucking night of my life. i mean, if my boy's roommate was just going to keep directing the conversation towards things that only she and the boy had in common, i might as well be passive-aggressively exclusive with my friends. it didn't work. he didn't seem to notice, and i was so damn angry that i wanted to cry. suddenly i jumped up (woa, those drinks might have had a slight effect) and mumbled a goodbye to everyone. the boy jumped up too. 'where are you going? home, already?' he asked, stupidly. 'yes.' i glared at him and walked out. 'wait, we'll go with you,' he shouted, chasing after me. his roommate jumped up too. fucking GREAT.
outside, they continued chatting happily and i wanted to die. i was hoping that only the boy would follow me home and i could dramatically tell him to go back to the redwood and find his roommate to share a cab ride home with. 'you seem to have so much more fun with her than me!' was the grand finale line i had been rehearsing in my head. now i couldn't say anything with the roommate around. crap.
on broadway, his roommate hailed a cab, quite sloshed. oh crap, where's my money? she slurred. here. i said, shoving the entirety of my cash at her. thanks, she said, to no one in particular. once the cab took off i did the same, marching, arms folded, with some great speed, towards my house. wait, wait, not so fast! came the cries from the still oblivious boy. i spun around, hysterical. 'why didn't you just go home with her in the cab?! seems like a fucking party, you two!' hm. not bad for unrehearsed.
he stopped walking. 'WHAT?!' i looked at him. it had finally hit. here it is folks, our first (or last?) fight. i glared. he grabbed my hand. i pulled away. 'NO, we need to talk!' he said with a lot more confidence and passion than i would have expected from someone so wasted. he tried again, taking my hand gently. 'please, please, just sit down. you can be mad, just sit and tell me what is going on. feel free to yell at me, maybe i need to hear it.'
okay. i did just that. i whined, i bitched, i got teary, i got mad, i got pleading. i told him how i was insecure, how i felt ignored, how i felt like he kept flaking out on me all the time, how i get weirdly jealous of his friends (especially the roommate) and how i felt like i was freaking out and being a bitch. he listened quietly, and then he took a deep breath. i feel the same way sometimes, he said carefully.
so, we're both insecure because we are both flaky and easily distracted and we both really like each other and BAHHHH we're both so ridiculous! in the end, we're like the same person with the same silly flaws. after fighting and understanding and sorting everything out (in the park, at 3 in the morning), we sighed. 'what is this? what are we?' i asked, one last time. 'this,' he said, kissing me, 'is a relationship. and you're my girlfriend. and i guess we better just be honest about it.'
!!!
cue the make-up sex.
...and i have a boyfriend. officially. i said i wouldn't... but i pretty much immediately changed my myspace relationship status. whatever, im a girl. get over it.
appendix!
JOELORD: our landlord, named joe. amazingness; he parks his truck on our front lawn, killing the grass and occasionally running over our garden. nothing works, nothing is ever fixed, our front door is broken, the bathrooms are tiled with sample tile squares from home depot.
PP: planned parenthood! free contraception! free exams (ew, but necessary) free condoms! ask for non-flavored ones!
true story.
other sad/supremely awesome things: i just glanced outside to see what was making such a loud noise. apparently its a thing called a lawnmower, and it was being used by JOELORD.* apart from the noise caused by the thing that cuts down the jungle called our front yard, i heard a terrible crunch. i looked down and watched JOELORD fish out a crunched tallboy of olympia in the maze of weeds. welcome to my life.
life. liiiife. its gorgeous, hot outside, i am buzzed and pretty darn happy. money is momentarily UNDER CONTROL. worked a few prime serving shifts, made some moolah, put that shit in the bank, saved a coupla bucks, paid my bills AND had enough to buy a plane ticket to wisconsin for childhood-bestfriend's wedding in june (eeek weddings). suuuperb.
i spent all morning cuddling and making out and et-cet-era with my boyfriend. yes. yes. yes, i just used THAT word. wanna know why? 'cause i'm in a relationship. and we use titles. and i FREAKIN' CHANGED MY STATUS ON MYSPACE. okay, caps not necessary there, but...
backup! last week, in a late night "chat," i asked him what he thought about me. instead of skirting around the issue, i blurted out (once again), what is this? he hmmed and hawed a bunch, but i finally got the answer i was looking for. 'if what you're worried about is commitment, you don't have to be,' he said, looking me straight in the eye. 'i feel one hundred percent committed to you. that's not even an issue for me.' sigh. finally. the words i wanted to hear. i wish it didn't take so long for him to say it. or maybe it just took too long for me to ask it.
but still, no relationship? exclusivity? check. setting aside time for one another? check. commitment? check. but agreeing that we are in a freakin' relationship?? UNCHECKED!!!
so. it had been a busy week of not seeing the boy, both of us busy, working, school, his friend was in town, etc. im not going to lie, i wanted to see him pretty bad. i knew he was busy, but sometimes... well sometimes a girl has her needs! totally unrelated, of course, but after the embarrassing visit to the corner store market where old-grumpy-asian owner smirked at me for buying macaroni and condoms (and yes, the next day i made the same purchase only this time substituting the kraft for a red bull, and asian man full on laughed out loud. im over it), i hit up the PP.* showed them my 'i'm poor and fertile, please help me control the population' card (medical insurance card just for PP), they gave me a year's worth of birth control. i like to play it extra-safe, so i asked for some condoms on the side. the lady looked me up and down over her reading glasses and pushed a brown paper bag into my red face. i thanked her meekly and ran out with a giant purse full of contraceptives. upon reaching the bus stop, i peeked inside the goodies bag. there they were, thirty free condoms of the clinic's choosing. and they were all flavored. FML.
after realizing that they must have sized me up and immediately dug into the slutty stash of condoms, i got over it. free condoms is free condoms! the next few days were a blur of being called in to cover shifts (they know i live two blocks away and am desperate, whatever) and working my tail off. by thursday night, i needed to get out and get my drank on. i sent a quick text to the boy, asking him if he wanted to do karaoke at the crescent. he enthusiastically agreed.
side note. there's this funny test called the myers-brigg personality type indicator. i am OBSESSED with it. it gives you a four-letter result of how you act around others, respond to situations, think, feel, etc. i made the boy take it a while ago. out of sixteen possibilities, we turn out to be the EXACT same type. and it makes sense. we are both socially stretched thin, trying to keep up with EVERYBODY, wear our hearts on our sleeve(s), make decisions based on pure emotion, take in energy from being around others, forgetful, easily distracted, easily hurt, easily insecure, easily forgiving, and flaky to the max. sounds like a recipe for a giant up-and-down roller coaster of emotions, distrust, extreme showing of affection, fights and constant make-up sex?
uh, i mean.
anyways yes. he is ALWAYS late, distracted by friends, forgets to call. and i am the same way. i have just accepted it. i still get cranky. but whatev. so on this particular night, once the boy agreed to go to karaoke with me, i thought, excellent. it will take him three hours to get to capitol hill, so i have three hours to hang out with my other friends at oddfellows.
by 10, i was drinking with susie and, oddly enough, three of our old college guy friends. i hadn't hung out with them since, like, freshmen year. it was fun, but i was eager to convince everyone to get to the crescent. suddenly i got a text. 'at the crescent, where are you?' huh. that was early for him. maybe he actually bypassed the whole getting distracted by friends thing, for once! but then a sequel came through the cell phone airwaves. 'ps. i brought the roommate!'
...
my momentary good mood vanished. the roommate. i knew which one. and i was not happy. so, his roommate. 30. graphic designer. now for the straight up bitchy description. loud. drunk. grossly flirty. attention whore. and worst of all, she seems to know everything there is to know about comic books, movies and art. shit. how can i compete with that?
anyways, it seems like every time we hang out lately, SHE has to come along! movie date with the boy? how nice! he bought tickets! oh, wait, SHE is coming too? hangout at oddfellows? nice! lets get drinks! ...with HER. great. late night movie watching at his house? romantic? no, of course not, because SHE wants to watch movies too, and we have to watch them in HER room? ew. not cool. i dont mind her as a person, but seriously. stop getting drunk and getting all over MY man. bitch. please.
so, thursday night, midnight, i finally get susie plus the old college crew over to the crescent. the boy and his roomie are drunk and having the time of their lives. also, the roomie wants to now leave. but we just got here? i said politely. yeah, but we've been here two hours, she said, turning and walking out the door. i look at the boy for help. he shrugs, looks deeply conflicted, and then walks out after his roommate. i am pissed. more than pissed. i know they are just going up the street to another bar, but he just choose her side! that's not fair! he needs to choose MY side! i'm being an unreasonable bitch but i don't care!
the ol' college boys buy me two shots in quick succession, thankfully completely unaware of the situation at hand. i then storm out the door to find my wonderful boy. he is smoking in the alley with roommate girl. im ready to go to redwood, i announce, carelessly. we all walk in increments, the roommate wanting to get there, me making the boy walk slower as an act of defiance, the ol' college guys drunkenly and confusedly following (hey, where are we going? they keep asking) and susie, bringing up the rear, trying to contact her own manfriend via cellphone. what a mess.
at the redwood we pushed tables together for our growing group. half the table was college boys chanting 'chug chug chug!' and the other half was me, the boy and the roommate. more drinks were bought for me and downed. still angrily sober and unfortunately clear-thinking, i watched my boy get stupider and stupider. his roommate's voice was getting more and more shrill and loud. i was fuming. AND i was being completely ignored.
bitchy time. i turned to the college guys and starting laughing loudly, swapping old stories, and acting like it was the fucking night of my life. i mean, if my boy's roommate was just going to keep directing the conversation towards things that only she and the boy had in common, i might as well be passive-aggressively exclusive with my friends. it didn't work. he didn't seem to notice, and i was so damn angry that i wanted to cry. suddenly i jumped up (woa, those drinks might have had a slight effect) and mumbled a goodbye to everyone. the boy jumped up too. 'where are you going? home, already?' he asked, stupidly. 'yes.' i glared at him and walked out. 'wait, we'll go with you,' he shouted, chasing after me. his roommate jumped up too. fucking GREAT.
outside, they continued chatting happily and i wanted to die. i was hoping that only the boy would follow me home and i could dramatically tell him to go back to the redwood and find his roommate to share a cab ride home with. 'you seem to have so much more fun with her than me!' was the grand finale line i had been rehearsing in my head. now i couldn't say anything with the roommate around. crap.
on broadway, his roommate hailed a cab, quite sloshed. oh crap, where's my money? she slurred. here. i said, shoving the entirety of my cash at her. thanks, she said, to no one in particular. once the cab took off i did the same, marching, arms folded, with some great speed, towards my house. wait, wait, not so fast! came the cries from the still oblivious boy. i spun around, hysterical. 'why didn't you just go home with her in the cab?! seems like a fucking party, you two!' hm. not bad for unrehearsed.
he stopped walking. 'WHAT?!' i looked at him. it had finally hit. here it is folks, our first (or last?) fight. i glared. he grabbed my hand. i pulled away. 'NO, we need to talk!' he said with a lot more confidence and passion than i would have expected from someone so wasted. he tried again, taking my hand gently. 'please, please, just sit down. you can be mad, just sit and tell me what is going on. feel free to yell at me, maybe i need to hear it.'
okay. i did just that. i whined, i bitched, i got teary, i got mad, i got pleading. i told him how i was insecure, how i felt ignored, how i felt like he kept flaking out on me all the time, how i get weirdly jealous of his friends (especially the roommate) and how i felt like i was freaking out and being a bitch. he listened quietly, and then he took a deep breath. i feel the same way sometimes, he said carefully.
so, we're both insecure because we are both flaky and easily distracted and we both really like each other and BAHHHH we're both so ridiculous! in the end, we're like the same person with the same silly flaws. after fighting and understanding and sorting everything out (in the park, at 3 in the morning), we sighed. 'what is this? what are we?' i asked, one last time. 'this,' he said, kissing me, 'is a relationship. and you're my girlfriend. and i guess we better just be honest about it.'
!!!
cue the make-up sex.
...and i have a boyfriend. officially. i said i wouldn't... but i pretty much immediately changed my myspace relationship status. whatever, im a girl. get over it.
appendix!
JOELORD: our landlord, named joe. amazingness; he parks his truck on our front lawn, killing the grass and occasionally running over our garden. nothing works, nothing is ever fixed, our front door is broken, the bathrooms are tiled with sample tile squares from home depot.
PP: planned parenthood! free contraception! free exams (ew, but necessary) free condoms! ask for non-flavored ones!
Thursday, May 7, 2009
punch drunk like
i just made a playlist. no. make that two playlists. consisting of one hundred percent genuine, googly-eyed, mush-brained, down-right silly "in like" music.
yes, i just used the phrase "in like." whatever. it works.
le sigh. life is really good right now. well, other than money being sucky. ug. if i overdraw my account one more time i am going to want to die. payday can't come soon enough. and i have no more clothes to sell, honestly. maybe its time to consider stripping...
but no. things will get better! more shifts happening at the ol' restaurant job, making moolah with the tips and yes, absolutely, amazing... I GOT A JOB AT THE NEW FROZEN CUSTARD STAND. fucking dream come true! free frozen custard and free greasy restaurant food, ALL SUMMER LONG! AND YES CAPS ARE ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY RIGHT NOW!
besides all that, the past few weeks have been chock full of lovely evenings such as georgia and kelly's going away party (drunk), liz's housewarming party and subsequent redwood hangout (drunk), and most recently the infamous "truth or dare night" at cha cha and last saturday's funny hangout at sun liquor (both drunk).
i have to pause though, and talk about the one night that was sort of awful. on one of georgia and kelly's last nights in town, they invited me to sing karaoke with them at the wildrose. as seeing it was a wednesday (traditionally karaoke night at kate's pub for me and the boy), i called him up and asked if he wanted to switch locations for the night. only if it involves karaoke! he enthusiastically agreed. wonderful! sort of a double date? nice.
around 10 i was slightly boozing at lindas, with some kids from oddfellows. wondering where the boy was, i texted him, asking his current whereabouts. two minutes later, i received a hasty reply: "brother. emergency. call later." shit.
my mind flipped through the handbook of possibilities. drugs. jail. fight. what could it be? his brother has a track record a mile long, but seemed to be stable as of late. he had a new job, some solid friends, and best of all, had a new-ish girlfriend after years of a psycho one. what could have gone wrong?
hours later, my boy called me. he sounded absolutely beat. his voice shook slightly, and he asked me if i could come over to the honeyhole where he was eating a sandwich. "i just... need you to be here with me," he said. i quickly shut down my tab and rushed two blocks over.
upon entering, i saw my boy. staring at the wall with an unfinished sandwich in front of him, he was sitting with a few close friends. i breezed over and whispered, "what happened?" in his ear. he looked surprised to see me, and took a minute to respond. "my brother walked in on his girlfriend ... committing suicide."
...
there are no words. i started to choke up and i just held him. he was in shock. two hours prior, after getting the absolute meltdown call from his sobbing brother (who was holding the phone in one hand and his bloodied girlfriend in the other), he had rushed over to find a myriad of ambulances and police. the girlfriend was rushed to the hospital and put in the ICU. she had survived, but barely. my boy was then left to help his brother sign the papers committing the girlfriend to the psych ward, clean up the apartment and finally, wipe the splattered blood off of his brother's clothes and calm him down.
the rest of the night consisted of me trying to calm this boy down. his friends bought him a couple of shots to calm his nerves (probably a bad idea). he went outside and smoked (quite a bit of) pot to relax. and then he was in horrible shape, and i had to help him home. even when he hit the bed (and i was taking off his shoes for him), he wouldn't stop freaking out. "what if she dies?" he asked, suddenly bringing out his irish catholic upbringing. "do you believe in hell? what happens to suicides?" he demanded, of no one in particular. i admitted i had no idea. he kept sitting straight up and grabbing my hands. "just tell me if you're ever sad," he said, as horrible possibilities must have been running through his brain. "have you ever considered suicide?" he kept asking. shudder. it was a horrible night.
and yet, for some reason, it made us closer than ever. once again, it was a moment when everything seemed shitty, and one of us was there for the other. he kept apologizing for bringing me into everything. i kept telling him to never be sorry for sharing. i want to be here for you, i kept saying.
after a horrible wednesday, the week took a turn upwards. thursday night josh head, ruth, jerad and i headed over to the cha cha for some cheap pitchers and a silly game of truth or dare. yes i know, how old are we. anyways, sooner or later the boy showed up with his friends, and then we had a big rowdy table full of kids. the bars closed, the boy and i wandered over to his friend's apartment and somehow, we got really messed up. bleh. at four in the morning, we found ourselves sneaking into his coffee shop and stealing beers from the fridge. i have no clue how or when we got home.
saturday night was equally humorous. i hung out at the coffee shop with the whole crew, joking around and distracting the boy and his co-workers. its funny. at this point i am good enough friends with his co-workers that i could call any of them up to go out. in fact, on this particular night my boy was sleepy, so i turned to his co-workers and asked them if they wanted to hit up sun liquor for some post-work drinks. well, it turned out that everyone thought it a swell idea and my boy found himself persuaded to join us. "just for one drink," he stressed.
four drinks and two hours later, we are all sloshed and happy. the boy and i headed back to the coffee shop where i had left my bike chained up. "i really have to get home," we both kept repeating. we walked outside to the bus stop and weighed the pros and cons. school early for him, work early for me. ugg. ah well. a passionate smooch goodbye, and two separate, uncomfortable, frustrating trips home for each of us, respectively. nothing worse. haha.
the next few days were full of work and keeping busy. oh and yes, a lot of brain energy was going into planning my big party. what occasion, you ask? cinco de mayo. aka MEXI-FEST 2009. yes, my housemates and i love random celebrations. hence the past parties (justin timberlake party, "fuck on" party, obamarama). and now, we were overly excited for cinco de mayo. understandably so, however. tecate tall boys, chips, guacamole and being outrageous are just everyday things in the goblin house. and to have an official day to celebrate these items to excess? perfecto.
what ensued was a house decorated in red, white and green streamers, sombreros, mexi-blankets, red lightbulbs, signs declaring our purpose ("its mexi-fest 2009, put your shots out in a line..."), mexi-music blaring (think way too much ricky martin, the macarena and yes, although she is colombian, shakira), and best of all, a giant cardboard taco ring toss game that actually mostly resembled a large vagina ("toss it right in!")
and then the guests arrived. goblin friends, hon gobs, neighbors, co-workers. the music was up and going right away and the dance floor packed. outside people smoked and drank and conversed (and later yelled). upstairs people did shots. im not going to lie, it was sorta hella (steph and i decided to bring back this word) fun. a successful party, if you ask me.
oh, and me. aha. silly, silly me. ahem. i might as well preface my behavior at mexi-fest by declaring that i did my first tequila shot at nine in the morning on may the fifth. at work. while working. while an elderly couple looked at me. i shrugged, stuck a lime in my mouth while my eyes watered, and waved them over to seat themselves anywhere. twenty minutes later my co-workers and i did a second shot. it was a fun work day.
after work i did two more shots, grabbed a beer and took myself home to set up the par-tee. let me tell you this, getting sound equipment set up, lightbulbs changed, decorating and cleaning are hard enough. while drunk, well, i have no idea how everything was pulled together in two hours. but suddenly, forty people were having fun and somehow everything was in full swing.
four beers, two shots and a few hours later i was GONE. accounts from other people range in nature, but according to susie i ran upstairs when my co-workers arrived, hugged everyone and demanded that we do a shot together. pouring bad tequila into the four shot glasses i own, i decided to substitute a small juice glass for my own drinking vessel. i offered the mega shot to susie. she declined, stating that anyone would "be nuts to drink a shot that big." i then downed the shot (which was actually about 3 shots in one), my eyes got big, and i calmly walked to the bathroom where i puked my guts up.
hours later, i heard someone knocking. i groaned, wondering why i was sleeping on such a cold floor. it was the bathroom, and my boy had come looking for me. "there you are," he sighed, shaking his head. somehow he carried me to my bed, got me water and made sure i was okay before i re-passed out. ah true romance.
the next morning i felt like... well shit is not strong enough of a word to describe what i felt like. i felt like shit that has been flung into the wind and hit by a speeding semi-truck. yes. that is how i felt. thank you mexi-fest 2009. and tequila. and never, never again.
the past two days have been recovered from my mega tequila hangover, mostly laying in bed with the boy, and then eating a bit of food, and then going to his house to lay in his bed. last night we didn't even leave his bed for fourteen hours. it was sort of glorious, not going to lie. i mean, when you're warm and happy and snugly, and only have to wake up when you need to drink some water or use the bathroom or have some sex, life is good. the end.
tomorrow work begins again. welcome to the weekend.
yes, i just used the phrase "in like." whatever. it works.
le sigh. life is really good right now. well, other than money being sucky. ug. if i overdraw my account one more time i am going to want to die. payday can't come soon enough. and i have no more clothes to sell, honestly. maybe its time to consider stripping...
but no. things will get better! more shifts happening at the ol' restaurant job, making moolah with the tips and yes, absolutely, amazing... I GOT A JOB AT THE NEW FROZEN CUSTARD STAND. fucking dream come true! free frozen custard and free greasy restaurant food, ALL SUMMER LONG! AND YES CAPS ARE ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY RIGHT NOW!
besides all that, the past few weeks have been chock full of lovely evenings such as georgia and kelly's going away party (drunk), liz's housewarming party and subsequent redwood hangout (drunk), and most recently the infamous "truth or dare night" at cha cha and last saturday's funny hangout at sun liquor (both drunk).
i have to pause though, and talk about the one night that was sort of awful. on one of georgia and kelly's last nights in town, they invited me to sing karaoke with them at the wildrose. as seeing it was a wednesday (traditionally karaoke night at kate's pub for me and the boy), i called him up and asked if he wanted to switch locations for the night. only if it involves karaoke! he enthusiastically agreed. wonderful! sort of a double date? nice.
around 10 i was slightly boozing at lindas, with some kids from oddfellows. wondering where the boy was, i texted him, asking his current whereabouts. two minutes later, i received a hasty reply: "brother. emergency. call later." shit.
my mind flipped through the handbook of possibilities. drugs. jail. fight. what could it be? his brother has a track record a mile long, but seemed to be stable as of late. he had a new job, some solid friends, and best of all, had a new-ish girlfriend after years of a psycho one. what could have gone wrong?
hours later, my boy called me. he sounded absolutely beat. his voice shook slightly, and he asked me if i could come over to the honeyhole where he was eating a sandwich. "i just... need you to be here with me," he said. i quickly shut down my tab and rushed two blocks over.
upon entering, i saw my boy. staring at the wall with an unfinished sandwich in front of him, he was sitting with a few close friends. i breezed over and whispered, "what happened?" in his ear. he looked surprised to see me, and took a minute to respond. "my brother walked in on his girlfriend ... committing suicide."
...
there are no words. i started to choke up and i just held him. he was in shock. two hours prior, after getting the absolute meltdown call from his sobbing brother (who was holding the phone in one hand and his bloodied girlfriend in the other), he had rushed over to find a myriad of ambulances and police. the girlfriend was rushed to the hospital and put in the ICU. she had survived, but barely. my boy was then left to help his brother sign the papers committing the girlfriend to the psych ward, clean up the apartment and finally, wipe the splattered blood off of his brother's clothes and calm him down.
the rest of the night consisted of me trying to calm this boy down. his friends bought him a couple of shots to calm his nerves (probably a bad idea). he went outside and smoked (quite a bit of) pot to relax. and then he was in horrible shape, and i had to help him home. even when he hit the bed (and i was taking off his shoes for him), he wouldn't stop freaking out. "what if she dies?" he asked, suddenly bringing out his irish catholic upbringing. "do you believe in hell? what happens to suicides?" he demanded, of no one in particular. i admitted i had no idea. he kept sitting straight up and grabbing my hands. "just tell me if you're ever sad," he said, as horrible possibilities must have been running through his brain. "have you ever considered suicide?" he kept asking. shudder. it was a horrible night.
and yet, for some reason, it made us closer than ever. once again, it was a moment when everything seemed shitty, and one of us was there for the other. he kept apologizing for bringing me into everything. i kept telling him to never be sorry for sharing. i want to be here for you, i kept saying.
after a horrible wednesday, the week took a turn upwards. thursday night josh head, ruth, jerad and i headed over to the cha cha for some cheap pitchers and a silly game of truth or dare. yes i know, how old are we. anyways, sooner or later the boy showed up with his friends, and then we had a big rowdy table full of kids. the bars closed, the boy and i wandered over to his friend's apartment and somehow, we got really messed up. bleh. at four in the morning, we found ourselves sneaking into his coffee shop and stealing beers from the fridge. i have no clue how or when we got home.
saturday night was equally humorous. i hung out at the coffee shop with the whole crew, joking around and distracting the boy and his co-workers. its funny. at this point i am good enough friends with his co-workers that i could call any of them up to go out. in fact, on this particular night my boy was sleepy, so i turned to his co-workers and asked them if they wanted to hit up sun liquor for some post-work drinks. well, it turned out that everyone thought it a swell idea and my boy found himself persuaded to join us. "just for one drink," he stressed.
four drinks and two hours later, we are all sloshed and happy. the boy and i headed back to the coffee shop where i had left my bike chained up. "i really have to get home," we both kept repeating. we walked outside to the bus stop and weighed the pros and cons. school early for him, work early for me. ugg. ah well. a passionate smooch goodbye, and two separate, uncomfortable, frustrating trips home for each of us, respectively. nothing worse. haha.
the next few days were full of work and keeping busy. oh and yes, a lot of brain energy was going into planning my big party. what occasion, you ask? cinco de mayo. aka MEXI-FEST 2009. yes, my housemates and i love random celebrations. hence the past parties (justin timberlake party, "fuck on" party, obamarama). and now, we were overly excited for cinco de mayo. understandably so, however. tecate tall boys, chips, guacamole and being outrageous are just everyday things in the goblin house. and to have an official day to celebrate these items to excess? perfecto.
what ensued was a house decorated in red, white and green streamers, sombreros, mexi-blankets, red lightbulbs, signs declaring our purpose ("its mexi-fest 2009, put your shots out in a line..."), mexi-music blaring (think way too much ricky martin, the macarena and yes, although she is colombian, shakira), and best of all, a giant cardboard taco ring toss game that actually mostly resembled a large vagina ("toss it right in!")
and then the guests arrived. goblin friends, hon gobs, neighbors, co-workers. the music was up and going right away and the dance floor packed. outside people smoked and drank and conversed (and later yelled). upstairs people did shots. im not going to lie, it was sorta hella (steph and i decided to bring back this word) fun. a successful party, if you ask me.
oh, and me. aha. silly, silly me. ahem. i might as well preface my behavior at mexi-fest by declaring that i did my first tequila shot at nine in the morning on may the fifth. at work. while working. while an elderly couple looked at me. i shrugged, stuck a lime in my mouth while my eyes watered, and waved them over to seat themselves anywhere. twenty minutes later my co-workers and i did a second shot. it was a fun work day.
after work i did two more shots, grabbed a beer and took myself home to set up the par-tee. let me tell you this, getting sound equipment set up, lightbulbs changed, decorating and cleaning are hard enough. while drunk, well, i have no idea how everything was pulled together in two hours. but suddenly, forty people were having fun and somehow everything was in full swing.
four beers, two shots and a few hours later i was GONE. accounts from other people range in nature, but according to susie i ran upstairs when my co-workers arrived, hugged everyone and demanded that we do a shot together. pouring bad tequila into the four shot glasses i own, i decided to substitute a small juice glass for my own drinking vessel. i offered the mega shot to susie. she declined, stating that anyone would "be nuts to drink a shot that big." i then downed the shot (which was actually about 3 shots in one), my eyes got big, and i calmly walked to the bathroom where i puked my guts up.
hours later, i heard someone knocking. i groaned, wondering why i was sleeping on such a cold floor. it was the bathroom, and my boy had come looking for me. "there you are," he sighed, shaking his head. somehow he carried me to my bed, got me water and made sure i was okay before i re-passed out. ah true romance.
the next morning i felt like... well shit is not strong enough of a word to describe what i felt like. i felt like shit that has been flung into the wind and hit by a speeding semi-truck. yes. that is how i felt. thank you mexi-fest 2009. and tequila. and never, never again.
the past two days have been recovered from my mega tequila hangover, mostly laying in bed with the boy, and then eating a bit of food, and then going to his house to lay in his bed. last night we didn't even leave his bed for fourteen hours. it was sort of glorious, not going to lie. i mean, when you're warm and happy and snugly, and only have to wake up when you need to drink some water or use the bathroom or have some sex, life is good. the end.
tomorrow work begins again. welcome to the weekend.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
i live for weekends
sunday night found me in a piercing shop on the ave, doing something rebellious, impulsive and unwise. and yet it was definitely the most responsible move i pulled all weekend.
for some, weekends are a time to relax, stop setting the alarm clock for 6:50 am (enough time for a hot shower from one's efficient condo bathroom facilities, a smart breakfast of trader joe's koshi cereal and an hour commute listening to npr while stuck in traffic on 1-5. on one's way to microsoft, boeing or amazon, of course), and maybe make a trip to such exciting and exotic bars (or watering holes, as the locals might call them!) as the cha cha lounge on "interesting and artsy" capitol hill.
and then there's the rest of us freaks. no nine-to-fivers for us! work doesn't magically stop on friday afternoon. we don't get to go sailing (there is this permanent image of a sort of "inspiration" poster in my mom's old boss' office: it has a smartly dressed, early 90's dude with a neon "salmon" wetsuit and he is happily sailing. the caption reads, "i live for weekends."), or go to those weird farmer's markets that i hear exist. no, not so much. when the belltown condo kids clock out at 5 pm on friday and head to their honda prius(es?) to drive themselves over to kurrent or moe bar, that's when we go to work.
welcome to the restaurant industry.
my work week began on thursday. happily curled up in wallingford at the boy's house, after a night of karaoke and the comfort of not having to be to work until 9:30, i snoozed away. and then my phone rang. it was 6:43am. i saw the number, knew it was my restaurant and KNEW that the fucking schedule had been switched around again and no one remembered to tell me i was opening. shit.
after throwing on clothes and smooching a confused, sleepy boy goodbye, i ran outside, frantic. i was in wallingford. 2 bus rides and an hour away from work. the restaurant was opening its doors in seven minutes, with only one slightly hungover worker present. in mere minutes, the PTA ladies, early morning old man risers and seattle academy kids would come pouring in, demanding breakfast and coffee. only one thing to do (ug); take a cab.
after a not-too-bad cab ride ($12) i made it to work only four minutes late. the day zoomed by, i collected a neat benjamin in tips, and after a drink shift or two i go to hang out with the boy at his coffee shop. soon enough they are closing, so i head home and crash and get ready for the next round of work.
and there began my weekend. by friday afternoon, i was mentally calculating my tips earned thus far, minus what i needed to pay to make the credit card company stop calling, and adding in the cost of rent, electricity and school loans... wow i sound so responsible. i was actually just seeing what was left to drink with. ha. classy. and indeed, i took those dollars and went with the lady roommates to (in the following order) comet (happy hour 4-7pm, $1 cans of pbr/rainier. awesome), bimbos ($5 happy hour pitchers of pbr, equally awesome), presse (again and again), the convenience store (for $2.49 pbr 40's), a house party, dicks (i dont remember why we thoughts this would be a great idea) and finally, the redwood. in that time, much was accomplished. amanda drank her first 40. liz celebrated her new apartment. i met some weird cornish kids. crazy roommate drama was solved (with a bit of buzzed bitching at each other. healthy!) i witnessed a drunk man get into a brawl with the bouncers on the street. all in all, a good night.
but friday night turned into saturday morning, and saturday morning turned into oh-yeah-i-have-to-work-at-nine. shit. waking up, i could barely move and felt the most hungover i had in a while (this record was later broken the following day.) work was crazy busy, i made mega moolah. after work, i rewarded myself with some wine, some chocolate eclairs and a good book. and then onwards i went, to the coffee shop to flirt shamelessly with the boy. i mean, when he leaps over the counter to smooch you in front of all of capitol hill AND his-coworkers, its good.
plans for the night, he asked coyly, kissing me on the cheek. actually, yes, i replied, dreading the reaction. its georgia and kelly's going away party. oh really, he answered, recognizing the couple. where?
gasp.
at the name of the bar at which the aforementioned party was to occur, two of his co-workers audibly gasped and one dropped a cup. they looked to my boy helplessly, as if to say, oh shit. this isn't even our war but we sort of want to build a couple of underground bunkers and go cry in them. lord help us all.
you see, this is the bar that the ex-girlfriend works at. unspoken rule, i don't go there. i don't hang out there, i don't talk to the staff there, and i certainly don't make an appearance with the boy there. and now i was just going to march myself in there and hang out. what was going through everyone's minds as drew picked up the pieces of the broken cup? will they meet? will there be interaction? will they brawl on the countertops and later spill over into the streets as the masses cheer for their favorite? okay, well i think the last one was mostly my main worry. i have built up the possibility of new girlfriend(ish) meeting ex-girlfriend a lot, and i have sort of terrified myself into believing it would be something horrific. yet in the past weeks, i have let myself relax. obviously, she cheated. she had no room to be pissy about her ex dating someone new. also, she might not even know me. or be working!!! lastly, how much drama could there possibly be?
and yet the sigh confirmed the high possibility of drama. as i looked up at the boy, with a face that showed no knowledge of the high chance of a bitch fight going down on first hill later that night, he looked really distressed. i didn't bother asking him if he wanted to go. he mumbled something about having fun and absently said he would call me later. he doesnt have a phone.
and then there was nothing else to do but go face the bitch. and by bitch, i totally mean the awkward situation between two respectful, understanding and forgiving young women. ha. yeah, right. by midnight, i was sloshed from a bit of pre-gaming at my work, while i waited for the rest of the staff to get done with their shift. we headed over to the bar and walked in. and fucking A, there she was, no doubt about it. shorter than me, a bit rounder, as steven would say. not fat at all, just not all awkward angles like me. and she was working like crazy behind the bar, as it was 1 am on a saturday night. she won't see me, i thought.
oh guess again. soon after our group stumbled in, she looked up. her mouth dropped open and she... glared? pouted? i couldn't tell. okay, fear number one, two and three NOT quelled, but rather proved legit. eek. a couple of my co-workers encouraged me NOT to go up to the bar, but to stay away from her. which was probably a good thing. turns out i was doing a few death stares of my own.
the night ended with me avoiding her around the bar. (she bussed out table at one point and took a while trying to stare me down. i pretended that i didnt even see her standing a foot away from my face), wondering a lot about their past relationship and finally (trashy, i know), i answered a phone call from the boy (he found a co-worker and somehow convinced the fellow coffee-shop employee to lend him the phone for the night). everyone had just exited the premises (it being 2:01) but i ducked back in for a second, almost colliding with the ex. i'll see you soon! i gushed loudly, using his name as many times as possible in a forty-five second phone conversation. eek, i am such a bad whore sometimes.
here's what ensued: a funny drunken ride (don't worry friends! the driver had been roused from his sober saturday night and summoned to drive us all to ihop) in a pickup truck with lovely georgia passed out in her leopard print mini-dress, ihop parking lot loitering, eating a cream cheese hot dog in an alleyway by myself (i hate when people watch me devour things like some sort of lioness), and yes, once again, rancho bravo tacos. of course, i managed to secure my boy in that time. he followed me home, leaning happily and excited about diving into a warm bed. we such an old, funny couple who get stoked about sleep. except minus the couple and minus the old.
waking up this morning was hell. i started crying in bed as my alarm went off because i was so, so SO physically miserable. i honestly felt like my insides were exploding and i couldnt stand up. headache, dizzy, dry mouth and off to work. woops, i realized as i attempted to pour a glass of OJ for a table and ended up just pouring OJ on the floor (three feet away the glass sat). im still drunk.
later on the day steph texted me. want to do something impulsive with me? she asked, excited. want to go to deep roots and get the piercings we have always wanted to get? want to go get a piece of metal stuck through your lip in an hour without consideration of if your job allows this or if future jobs with frown upon it?
sounds like the most well-thought out plan anyone has had all weekend. lets do it.
for some, weekends are a time to relax, stop setting the alarm clock for 6:50 am (enough time for a hot shower from one's efficient condo bathroom facilities, a smart breakfast of trader joe's koshi cereal and an hour commute listening to npr while stuck in traffic on 1-5. on one's way to microsoft, boeing or amazon, of course), and maybe make a trip to such exciting and exotic bars (or watering holes, as the locals might call them!) as the cha cha lounge on "interesting and artsy" capitol hill.
and then there's the rest of us freaks. no nine-to-fivers for us! work doesn't magically stop on friday afternoon. we don't get to go sailing (there is this permanent image of a sort of "inspiration" poster in my mom's old boss' office: it has a smartly dressed, early 90's dude with a neon "salmon" wetsuit and he is happily sailing. the caption reads, "i live for weekends."), or go to those weird farmer's markets that i hear exist. no, not so much. when the belltown condo kids clock out at 5 pm on friday and head to their honda prius(es?) to drive themselves over to kurrent or moe bar, that's when we go to work.
welcome to the restaurant industry.
my work week began on thursday. happily curled up in wallingford at the boy's house, after a night of karaoke and the comfort of not having to be to work until 9:30, i snoozed away. and then my phone rang. it was 6:43am. i saw the number, knew it was my restaurant and KNEW that the fucking schedule had been switched around again and no one remembered to tell me i was opening. shit.
after throwing on clothes and smooching a confused, sleepy boy goodbye, i ran outside, frantic. i was in wallingford. 2 bus rides and an hour away from work. the restaurant was opening its doors in seven minutes, with only one slightly hungover worker present. in mere minutes, the PTA ladies, early morning old man risers and seattle academy kids would come pouring in, demanding breakfast and coffee. only one thing to do (ug); take a cab.
after a not-too-bad cab ride ($12) i made it to work only four minutes late. the day zoomed by, i collected a neat benjamin in tips, and after a drink shift or two i go to hang out with the boy at his coffee shop. soon enough they are closing, so i head home and crash and get ready for the next round of work.
and there began my weekend. by friday afternoon, i was mentally calculating my tips earned thus far, minus what i needed to pay to make the credit card company stop calling, and adding in the cost of rent, electricity and school loans... wow i sound so responsible. i was actually just seeing what was left to drink with. ha. classy. and indeed, i took those dollars and went with the lady roommates to (in the following order) comet (happy hour 4-7pm, $1 cans of pbr/rainier. awesome), bimbos ($5 happy hour pitchers of pbr, equally awesome), presse (again and again), the convenience store (for $2.49 pbr 40's), a house party, dicks (i dont remember why we thoughts this would be a great idea) and finally, the redwood. in that time, much was accomplished. amanda drank her first 40. liz celebrated her new apartment. i met some weird cornish kids. crazy roommate drama was solved (with a bit of buzzed bitching at each other. healthy!) i witnessed a drunk man get into a brawl with the bouncers on the street. all in all, a good night.
but friday night turned into saturday morning, and saturday morning turned into oh-yeah-i-have-to-work-at-nine. shit. waking up, i could barely move and felt the most hungover i had in a while (this record was later broken the following day.) work was crazy busy, i made mega moolah. after work, i rewarded myself with some wine, some chocolate eclairs and a good book. and then onwards i went, to the coffee shop to flirt shamelessly with the boy. i mean, when he leaps over the counter to smooch you in front of all of capitol hill AND his-coworkers, its good.
plans for the night, he asked coyly, kissing me on the cheek. actually, yes, i replied, dreading the reaction. its georgia and kelly's going away party. oh really, he answered, recognizing the couple. where?
gasp.
at the name of the bar at which the aforementioned party was to occur, two of his co-workers audibly gasped and one dropped a cup. they looked to my boy helplessly, as if to say, oh shit. this isn't even our war but we sort of want to build a couple of underground bunkers and go cry in them. lord help us all.
you see, this is the bar that the ex-girlfriend works at. unspoken rule, i don't go there. i don't hang out there, i don't talk to the staff there, and i certainly don't make an appearance with the boy there. and now i was just going to march myself in there and hang out. what was going through everyone's minds as drew picked up the pieces of the broken cup? will they meet? will there be interaction? will they brawl on the countertops and later spill over into the streets as the masses cheer for their favorite? okay, well i think the last one was mostly my main worry. i have built up the possibility of new girlfriend(ish) meeting ex-girlfriend a lot, and i have sort of terrified myself into believing it would be something horrific. yet in the past weeks, i have let myself relax. obviously, she cheated. she had no room to be pissy about her ex dating someone new. also, she might not even know me. or be working!!! lastly, how much drama could there possibly be?
and yet the sigh confirmed the high possibility of drama. as i looked up at the boy, with a face that showed no knowledge of the high chance of a bitch fight going down on first hill later that night, he looked really distressed. i didn't bother asking him if he wanted to go. he mumbled something about having fun and absently said he would call me later. he doesnt have a phone.
and then there was nothing else to do but go face the bitch. and by bitch, i totally mean the awkward situation between two respectful, understanding and forgiving young women. ha. yeah, right. by midnight, i was sloshed from a bit of pre-gaming at my work, while i waited for the rest of the staff to get done with their shift. we headed over to the bar and walked in. and fucking A, there she was, no doubt about it. shorter than me, a bit rounder, as steven would say. not fat at all, just not all awkward angles like me. and she was working like crazy behind the bar, as it was 1 am on a saturday night. she won't see me, i thought.
oh guess again. soon after our group stumbled in, she looked up. her mouth dropped open and she... glared? pouted? i couldn't tell. okay, fear number one, two and three NOT quelled, but rather proved legit. eek. a couple of my co-workers encouraged me NOT to go up to the bar, but to stay away from her. which was probably a good thing. turns out i was doing a few death stares of my own.
the night ended with me avoiding her around the bar. (she bussed out table at one point and took a while trying to stare me down. i pretended that i didnt even see her standing a foot away from my face), wondering a lot about their past relationship and finally (trashy, i know), i answered a phone call from the boy (he found a co-worker and somehow convinced the fellow coffee-shop employee to lend him the phone for the night). everyone had just exited the premises (it being 2:01) but i ducked back in for a second, almost colliding with the ex. i'll see you soon! i gushed loudly, using his name as many times as possible in a forty-five second phone conversation. eek, i am such a bad whore sometimes.
here's what ensued: a funny drunken ride (don't worry friends! the driver had been roused from his sober saturday night and summoned to drive us all to ihop) in a pickup truck with lovely georgia passed out in her leopard print mini-dress, ihop parking lot loitering, eating a cream cheese hot dog in an alleyway by myself (i hate when people watch me devour things like some sort of lioness), and yes, once again, rancho bravo tacos. of course, i managed to secure my boy in that time. he followed me home, leaning happily and excited about diving into a warm bed. we such an old, funny couple who get stoked about sleep. except minus the couple and minus the old.
waking up this morning was hell. i started crying in bed as my alarm went off because i was so, so SO physically miserable. i honestly felt like my insides were exploding and i couldnt stand up. headache, dizzy, dry mouth and off to work. woops, i realized as i attempted to pour a glass of OJ for a table and ended up just pouring OJ on the floor (three feet away the glass sat). im still drunk.
later on the day steph texted me. want to do something impulsive with me? she asked, excited. want to go to deep roots and get the piercings we have always wanted to get? want to go get a piece of metal stuck through your lip in an hour without consideration of if your job allows this or if future jobs with frown upon it?
sounds like the most well-thought out plan anyone has had all weekend. lets do it.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
breaking the routine
i woke up this morning, shivering and attempted to yank some blankets over to my side of the bed. groggy, i looked down on the floor to see a discarded swimsuit top, summer dress, and sandals. i felt my warm, sunburned face and arms and looked outside the a grey sky that seemed to be smirking at me. idiot, it said. this is seattle. didja think it was summer or something? ha!
why is it so fucking cold? the last two days have been marvelous. sunshine, 70 degrees, swimming suits, laying in the park, drinking kombucha and cold beers. well cold beers happen year-round.... but whatever.
back to the cold morning. still confused as to why my feet were icecubes, i try to bury myself under more blankets and wrap my frozen legs around the (always, why are men so... warm-blooded? they are like hot water bottles or something. not complainin' or anything...) warm body snoring next to me. he grumbles and mumbles something about my feet being too cold. i don't listen but just snuggle closer. heck, its not even a romantic thing anymore, having a bed buddy. its like fucking survival mode.
as we both attempt to go back to sleep we are suddenly startled awake by my phone alarm clock. oh yes, once again i have to set my alarm to make sure my boy wakes up for class. why was my phone set, instead of his? oh yeah, my wonderful boy once again is not in procession of his phone. it wasn't a phone malfunction, or that he once again ran his phone over with his bike. oh, no. this time he left his phone on the bus. good lord, what am i going to do with him.
anyways, the phone alarm goes off a few more times before i can finally rouse him. er, well, let's be honest. it took a little something more than an annoying phone alarm (which he snatched out of my hands at one moment, put on silent and hurled across the room into a pile of towels) to get him ... going. ha. after a bit o' morning shenanigans, i reminded him of the time. he yelped, and in one motion threw on some clothes, smooched me goodbye, and yelled something about getting his phone back and he would call me and come visit him at the coffee shop later? or something. i dont know, i was busy tunneling into the now empty bed full of thick blankets. all mine! warmth! survival!
survival. bleh. lately i feel like that word is coming into my vocabulary a lot more often. mostly because i have zero dollars. actually, no, not zero. negative dollars. bling.
last night, after spending a carefree day sunbathing and hanging out with friends, i realized that i had no money for evening time entertainment. not a problem. some boys who came over to hang out at amanda's brought a case. travis bought some liquor and shared. and later, at the crescent, someone bought a pitcher. i merely helped myself. i know, i know. sad and pretty pathetic. but whatever, its the new economy. at al's as i was fishing was the $3 in quarters that i knew i had somewhere, my barista boy patted my shoulder and told me he didnt mind buying me a beer, i kissed him on the cheek and told him i owed him one. his winked at me and said he was sure there was some way i could re-pay. great. now i'm a prostitute.
ah well. its not all that bad. he takes care of my beer and coffee needs and i take care of ... waking him up. and reminding him to take his books. and making sure he doesnt drink too much while on pain medicine for a dislocated shoulder. (!) oh yeah, i forgot about this. last wednesday, i woke up to a text message from him that read, "got in a bike accident." panicked, i called him and demanded to know if he was alright. he thought so. he had just woken up, fully clothed on top of his bed, with his elbow bleeding, his head throbbing and his shoulder immobile. apparently, post-tuesday-night-out-drinking-in-wallingford had gone badly. he was riding his bike when his hat flew off and he tumbled over, hitting his head and shoulder. he walked home, drunk, and passed out. bad idea. upon waking, and sending me the text (and subsequently me yelling at him to go to a doctor), he finally dragged himself to the UW hospital where they put a sling on him and told him not to use his arm for a few weeks. oh, and he had a concussion and shouldn't be alone.
cue the supportive girlfriend role!
i rode my bike over (maybe pushing my luck and the gods of irony) to see how he was doing. swaying a bit, and droopy eyed, i tried to cheer him up. i suggested we go watch the regulars sing karaoke at kate's pub, down the street. even though he was on a strict no-drinking regimen, i allowed him to have one beer. and because it made so much sense, i decided to drink the amount of beers that he would have drank, plus my own. smart! suddenly we had a very loopy boy with an arm in a sling and a very intoxicated, swaying girl standing at the stage while the former sang some ridiculous karaoke song and the latter cheered drunkenly. in the end, he had to help me home and he had to take care of me. some caretaker i am.
c'est la vie. the next few days were a lot of me being overly-worried about him, calling, texting, etc. god, i feel crazy sometimes. i am so overwhelming i think. friday night was a good example of this. my roommate steven was having his video release party, after working for months on a music video for a well-known band. before the party, i was working all day. barista boy texted me, promising me he would visit. i was elated. i love showing of the coffee crush. three hours later, i was not so elated. he hadnt showed up or texted. i got off work soon after and tried to get ahold of him. "forgot class went late! missed text! buses late!" all the excuses came flying over the cell phone air waves, with the force of a paper airplane thrown half-heartedly. i gritted my teeth. well, come hang out tonight, i said. two hours and several shift drinks and no texts later, i left my work and went to the comet to meet afton. a couple of other friends showed up and we started forming a beerimid of happy hour priced olympia cans. buzzed, i texted him again. nothing. we all went home and i started complaining to a co-worker, and next thing i know we are buying cheap wine, cooks champagne and (yes, really) tropicana orange juice. yes, this is my friday night. cooks and tropicana, being buzzed and pissed off at some boy who may or may not be my boyfriend, and then (ta-da!) stumbling over to rancho bravo tacos*. and its only 7pm.
lets just say that by the time party o'clock came around, and all of steven's friends, child-hood friends, friend's parents, family and (eeek) the elite class of friends-of-the-family had arrived, i was DRUNK. and loud. and passing around open bottles of champagne in a sad attempt to try to get someone to be as drunk as i was. no go. i ended up dancing at the late-night dance party (after all the aforementioned groups of people had left and it was just us goblin kids around and no one to be ashamed in front of), or rather, swaying a lot. my roommate's lady friend (who we all sort of dislike extremely) was there and i apparently glared at her like a psycho all night. great. i ended up passing out early, missing the one text i had been waiting all day and night for. FML.
saturday was a funny day, mostly full of comforting a friend-in-crisis. this girl has had it tough. one of her roommates has become increasingly snotty and disrespectful. this roommates accuses my friend of constantly being messy, although doesnt really try to be tidy herself. she blames household problems on my friend and scapegoats her for everything. worst of all, the roommate's boyfriend is always around, lounging in the shared living room, having "intimate" moments in the middle of common living spaces, making my poor friend uncomfortable and just pretty damn annoyed. and so, on saturday afternoon, my friend asked to crash at my house for a bit. i was totally cool with this, and helped her throw some of her stuff in my bedroom before we both went out for different errands and stuff.
part two. i forgot that my friend was staying at my house. i forgot all about all her stuff in my room. i was too focused on, yes, let's be honest, hanging out with the boy on saturday night, drinking beers at the stumbling monk with some of his co-workers and eventually, stumbling home with him. this were getting a bit heated in the bedroom when i heard a noise. thinking it was my cat opening the door, i looked over. no, not a cat. it was my shy, not-very-comfortable-around-boys friend, who had just walked into an extremely awkward scene while looking for her laptop cord. the same friend who couldnt take one more extremely awkward scene and had fled her house and was staying at mine for that very reason. second FML of the weekend.
appendix!
rancho bravo: its a freakin' taco truck... indoors! apparently, the old taco truck in wallingford thought it lucrative to expand to capitol hill. and whats better than an authentic mexican food taco truck? one that you can stand inside and sway in! the brave little taco truck took over what used to be PETA's number one target: the KFC fast food restaurant on 10th & pine. now its delicious, cash-only, post-drinking food. open until 3 am on weekends. genius!
why is it so fucking cold? the last two days have been marvelous. sunshine, 70 degrees, swimming suits, laying in the park, drinking kombucha and cold beers. well cold beers happen year-round.... but whatever.
back to the cold morning. still confused as to why my feet were icecubes, i try to bury myself under more blankets and wrap my frozen legs around the (always, why are men so... warm-blooded? they are like hot water bottles or something. not complainin' or anything...) warm body snoring next to me. he grumbles and mumbles something about my feet being too cold. i don't listen but just snuggle closer. heck, its not even a romantic thing anymore, having a bed buddy. its like fucking survival mode.
as we both attempt to go back to sleep we are suddenly startled awake by my phone alarm clock. oh yes, once again i have to set my alarm to make sure my boy wakes up for class. why was my phone set, instead of his? oh yeah, my wonderful boy once again is not in procession of his phone. it wasn't a phone malfunction, or that he once again ran his phone over with his bike. oh, no. this time he left his phone on the bus. good lord, what am i going to do with him.
anyways, the phone alarm goes off a few more times before i can finally rouse him. er, well, let's be honest. it took a little something more than an annoying phone alarm (which he snatched out of my hands at one moment, put on silent and hurled across the room into a pile of towels) to get him ... going. ha. after a bit o' morning shenanigans, i reminded him of the time. he yelped, and in one motion threw on some clothes, smooched me goodbye, and yelled something about getting his phone back and he would call me and come visit him at the coffee shop later? or something. i dont know, i was busy tunneling into the now empty bed full of thick blankets. all mine! warmth! survival!
survival. bleh. lately i feel like that word is coming into my vocabulary a lot more often. mostly because i have zero dollars. actually, no, not zero. negative dollars. bling.
last night, after spending a carefree day sunbathing and hanging out with friends, i realized that i had no money for evening time entertainment. not a problem. some boys who came over to hang out at amanda's brought a case. travis bought some liquor and shared. and later, at the crescent, someone bought a pitcher. i merely helped myself. i know, i know. sad and pretty pathetic. but whatever, its the new economy. at al's as i was fishing was the $3 in quarters that i knew i had somewhere, my barista boy patted my shoulder and told me he didnt mind buying me a beer, i kissed him on the cheek and told him i owed him one. his winked at me and said he was sure there was some way i could re-pay. great. now i'm a prostitute.
ah well. its not all that bad. he takes care of my beer and coffee needs and i take care of ... waking him up. and reminding him to take his books. and making sure he doesnt drink too much while on pain medicine for a dislocated shoulder. (!) oh yeah, i forgot about this. last wednesday, i woke up to a text message from him that read, "got in a bike accident." panicked, i called him and demanded to know if he was alright. he thought so. he had just woken up, fully clothed on top of his bed, with his elbow bleeding, his head throbbing and his shoulder immobile. apparently, post-tuesday-night-out-drinking-in-wallingford had gone badly. he was riding his bike when his hat flew off and he tumbled over, hitting his head and shoulder. he walked home, drunk, and passed out. bad idea. upon waking, and sending me the text (and subsequently me yelling at him to go to a doctor), he finally dragged himself to the UW hospital where they put a sling on him and told him not to use his arm for a few weeks. oh, and he had a concussion and shouldn't be alone.
cue the supportive girlfriend role!
i rode my bike over (maybe pushing my luck and the gods of irony) to see how he was doing. swaying a bit, and droopy eyed, i tried to cheer him up. i suggested we go watch the regulars sing karaoke at kate's pub, down the street. even though he was on a strict no-drinking regimen, i allowed him to have one beer. and because it made so much sense, i decided to drink the amount of beers that he would have drank, plus my own. smart! suddenly we had a very loopy boy with an arm in a sling and a very intoxicated, swaying girl standing at the stage while the former sang some ridiculous karaoke song and the latter cheered drunkenly. in the end, he had to help me home and he had to take care of me. some caretaker i am.
c'est la vie. the next few days were a lot of me being overly-worried about him, calling, texting, etc. god, i feel crazy sometimes. i am so overwhelming i think. friday night was a good example of this. my roommate steven was having his video release party, after working for months on a music video for a well-known band. before the party, i was working all day. barista boy texted me, promising me he would visit. i was elated. i love showing of the coffee crush. three hours later, i was not so elated. he hadnt showed up or texted. i got off work soon after and tried to get ahold of him. "forgot class went late! missed text! buses late!" all the excuses came flying over the cell phone air waves, with the force of a paper airplane thrown half-heartedly. i gritted my teeth. well, come hang out tonight, i said. two hours and several shift drinks and no texts later, i left my work and went to the comet to meet afton. a couple of other friends showed up and we started forming a beerimid of happy hour priced olympia cans. buzzed, i texted him again. nothing. we all went home and i started complaining to a co-worker, and next thing i know we are buying cheap wine, cooks champagne and (yes, really) tropicana orange juice. yes, this is my friday night. cooks and tropicana, being buzzed and pissed off at some boy who may or may not be my boyfriend, and then (ta-da!) stumbling over to rancho bravo tacos*. and its only 7pm.
lets just say that by the time party o'clock came around, and all of steven's friends, child-hood friends, friend's parents, family and (eeek) the elite class of friends-of-the-family had arrived, i was DRUNK. and loud. and passing around open bottles of champagne in a sad attempt to try to get someone to be as drunk as i was. no go. i ended up dancing at the late-night dance party (after all the aforementioned groups of people had left and it was just us goblin kids around and no one to be ashamed in front of), or rather, swaying a lot. my roommate's lady friend (who we all sort of dislike extremely) was there and i apparently glared at her like a psycho all night. great. i ended up passing out early, missing the one text i had been waiting all day and night for. FML.
saturday was a funny day, mostly full of comforting a friend-in-crisis. this girl has had it tough. one of her roommates has become increasingly snotty and disrespectful. this roommates accuses my friend of constantly being messy, although doesnt really try to be tidy herself. she blames household problems on my friend and scapegoats her for everything. worst of all, the roommate's boyfriend is always around, lounging in the shared living room, having "intimate" moments in the middle of common living spaces, making my poor friend uncomfortable and just pretty damn annoyed. and so, on saturday afternoon, my friend asked to crash at my house for a bit. i was totally cool with this, and helped her throw some of her stuff in my bedroom before we both went out for different errands and stuff.
part two. i forgot that my friend was staying at my house. i forgot all about all her stuff in my room. i was too focused on, yes, let's be honest, hanging out with the boy on saturday night, drinking beers at the stumbling monk with some of his co-workers and eventually, stumbling home with him. this were getting a bit heated in the bedroom when i heard a noise. thinking it was my cat opening the door, i looked over. no, not a cat. it was my shy, not-very-comfortable-around-boys friend, who had just walked into an extremely awkward scene while looking for her laptop cord. the same friend who couldnt take one more extremely awkward scene and had fled her house and was staying at mine for that very reason. second FML of the weekend.
appendix!
rancho bravo: its a freakin' taco truck... indoors! apparently, the old taco truck in wallingford thought it lucrative to expand to capitol hill. and whats better than an authentic mexican food taco truck? one that you can stand inside and sway in! the brave little taco truck took over what used to be PETA's number one target: the KFC fast food restaurant on 10th & pine. now its delicious, cash-only, post-drinking food. open until 3 am on weekends. genius!
Monday, April 13, 2009
the new economy
its still cold here in seattle. which means the kids of capitol hill are still freezing their tushes off at night, living in these big old crappy houses, paying like nothing for rent but wasting the rest of their tiny paychecks on useless space heaters and booze to ward off the feeling of cold feet.
april. what happened to global warming? what happened to spring? the other day i was weighing the pros and cons of my semi-dating slash not dating slash man-friend situation, and we decided on one thing. "its still cold," frey said, shrugging. "might as well keep him around at least until it gets warmer at night."
good point.
speaking of which. in light of The New Economy*, one must consider ways to make money, feed oneself and what to do for entertainment and hobbies. for cheap and/or free. here are a few ideas:
1. as mentioned before, sell your clothing. not stripping. take clothes that you are currently not wearing, preferably semi-fashionable and with no apparent deodorant rings (i learned this the hard way), and walk to (in this order) buffalo exchange, crossroads, red light and then crossroads again. in this cascading order, the pickier stores will buy the best stuff for higher prices, the vintage items will trickle down to red light and crossroads will have a different clothing buyer every eight hours, so who cares. they take anything.
2. collect all the pennies and jars of change in your house and take 'em to coinstar. don't take jars of quarters, people will get mad (i.e. laundry, bus money, etc). but they probably won't notice if you take that creepy, beer-stained glass under the coffee table in the living room full of 43 cents. hey, it all adds up.
3. sell shit on craigslist. that weird bookshelf you found on the street? sell it! the lamp "from pier 1 imports, just bought it but it doesnt match my new paint job"? yep, that's a good story. someone will want the smashed lamp you took from your dorm lounge three years ago. profit!
4. get crafty. my neighbors found beads and feathers somewhere, no they are gluing them to headbands. $10. hey, these things sell at urban for my $20.
5. food bank. i hear they exist. i should look into this, actually.
6. food stamps. i tried to apply. but the application form that came in the mail got lost. oops.
7. cheap medical attention! country doctor, like 18th & republican. you go there for your eye infection, weird cold, refill on thyroid meds, whatever. its only $15 if you're poor.
8. planned parenthood. yes and yes. its free if you're poor! free birth control, free condoms (boys can go too!), free annual exam. better safe than sorry! better late than never! ha!
9. someday we will live in a place that has socialized medicine. well, at least i hope i can move to europe someday... haha bad joke. anyways, more cheap medical stuff, which SHOULD NOT BE A SECRET! quality food center pharmacy. ask about their $10 for 3 months worth of generic meds deal. so legit. fill out a application, show your prescription (which you can get at country doctor or PP, yay!) and you're good to go.
10. busking. find a talent, dress up a bit, go hit up pikes place market on a saturday. might work. or you might get shooed along by police. whatevs.
11. yard sale. my neighbors are about to move to new york, and they are going to sell all their stuff out on the sidewalk. nice!
12. actually, there are a lot of semi- to un-legit ways to make money. selling smuggled drugs and stripping are just two things i have actually, seriously considered. stripping might be a pain because i hate shaving my legs. ...and i'd probably have to shave a lot more than that, now that i think of it. hm. back to selling mescaline.
once you got the money-makin' and money-savin' thing down, its time to move into the money-free entertainment category. how to have fun for free!
1. play at the park. no joke, its sort of fun. i wish it was warm though.
2. watch movies online. and TV shows! yay!
3. get dumpstered snacks and watch aforementioned TV shows.
4. go to a karaoke night at a bar. pre-funk beforehand and maybe they won't notice you're not buying drinks...
5. actually just get a friend who has an actual job to buy a pitcher.
6. sing for your drinks. (have done it)
7. frye art museum. free, i've heard.
8. sort through all your old bus transfers and find the right color for today. ride the bus! its fun!
9. naps.
10. cuddling.
11. making out.
12. sex.
13. actually all those could have gone under one bullet.
14. making cookies out of things you find in your kitchen. aka really old lumpy sugar.
okay enough fuzzy, free ways to have fun. on to other things. frey left, by the way. ridiculously sad, not sure what to do with myself. i pick up my phone like once a day in a mad rush to text out: MUST TALK, PRESSE, NOW, FRITES AND BLOODY MARYS??? but then i remember that our french fry and cocktail traditions are over for the moment. frey packed up her bags, her cat, and left for san francisco a week ago. seems so much longer ago. the night before she left, the goblin kids and i moped around until someone suggested that we grab a coupla six-packs of fat tire. next thing we know, a fat tire night is in full-swing, all of us blasting our favorite songs, sing-along time, laughing at the old stories, shouting across the room when normal indoor voices would have sufficed, and wow, where did all this beer come from?
it was good. just like the night we all met, two years ago. and the next day, her new McBoyfriend arrived at the airport, came to the house to help her load her car, and they drove off. us goblin house kids took a quick snapshot in front of the house, hugged her one-by-one, and then ran alongside her car as it drove off down the street. someone shouted, "just married!" as a joke and i called out to "write the ol' fam a lettah." but it did feel like we were giving one of our daughters away, in some sort of ridiculously backwards, old-timey shotgun wedding. weird.
anyways, frey is gone, hopefully soaking up the sun and her McBoyfriend and new coffee job. the house has been quiet since she left. josh is out, moved over to 20th & union or something. everyone else works a ton it seems. actually. work-wise, i have moved back into the poverty category. and thus the aforementioned list of ways to be poor and survive. i mean, its bad. i overdrew my account twice in the last two weeks, my credit card is basically maxed out and almost bounced a check. plus student loans. bam. one day, feeling the pangs of hunger, i looked through my drawers to see what i could sell. i sold my clothes. for money. to eat. welcome to the new economy.
and so, when a couple of shifts opened up at my A.R.J., i snatched them up. opening shift? no problem! 10 hour shift? yes, please! two doubles in one week? i'll take it. I AM DESPERATE. and have no problem sharing that. yes, working sixteen hours in one day makes me want to die, but when you are begging your roommates to for any random pennies they might want to get rid of so that you can haul a jar of coins to the change machine just to buy yourself a pita and hummus, things start to look a little different.
back to the dilemma of to date or not-to-date? things are... the same. always. i am enamored, i am pissed, i am confused, his phone dies for a week, i am over it, he shows up at my window at 3 in the morning from all the way across town throwing little pebbles and telling me he couldn't stand not seeing me for another second, i am flattered, he is drunk, it doesn't matter anymore. we go on. one day last week he came over, surprised to see a tall, freakish-ly good-looking french man sleeping on my couch. its a traveling couchsurfer*, i explain. he is not comforted, and asks me if he should be worried about "some european guy stealing his girlfriend." i just laugh at his sudden show of jealousy and wonder why he is calling me his girlfriend.
the next day we hung out with some of his friends, running around downtown. the convention center was hosting "sakura-con 09," which is about the most fucked-up shit i have ever encountered. like 10,000 anime fans gathered for a three day event in which apparently there are workshops and anime celebrities or something. oh, and EVERYONE dresses up. i wasn't surprised at the 400 sailor moons i observed. the 200 pokemon characters seemed somewhat appropriate too. there were several thousand obscure anime characters that i did not recognize, but the kids kept running across the place shouting, "OH EM GEE its ka-won-tee from dragon magic riders!" or something. but then there were a few super hero characters, TV personalities (i saw 3 stewies from family guy), and then the line bewteen anime and disney was blurred. at one point all the snow whites of the convention had gathered. cinderella (time two) joined in also. i can see how disney is animated. i was also pretty confused by indiana jones, three nuns and a girl in a green bathing suit. that didn't make sense. but then all was trumped when straight-up jesus came strolling by with a cross. anime? not so much. he had braces too.
anime fest 09. the boy and i strolled around, laughing, sipping vodka out of paper coffee cups and taking pictures. several of his friends joined us and while it was cool to meet them, the title girlfriend was busted out a few more times. weird. the day ended with dinner at pikes place market and a return to the hill. nice.
easter morning was all work, but afterwards i was itching to just curl up and watch movies. what's better than watching movies? watching them with a boy. what's better than cuddling and watching movies with a boy? building a roaring fire and having the whole house to yourselves. ha. well, at least you think the house is empty, and then you walk around in nothing but his tee-shirt and half of his housemates are having a pow-wow in the hallway. ah yes.
appendix!
*The New Economy: its a recession, let's be honest. money is tight, jobs suck, we are all poor, no matter what our conservative republican parents say ("people are just imagining this. things were fine under bush!" no, no they weren't.)
*couchsurfer: i like traveling. i like travelers. i am signed up for couchsurfing.com. i let cool travelers stay on my couch, and when i travel, i crash on their couches. pretty legit.
april. what happened to global warming? what happened to spring? the other day i was weighing the pros and cons of my semi-dating slash not dating slash man-friend situation, and we decided on one thing. "its still cold," frey said, shrugging. "might as well keep him around at least until it gets warmer at night."
good point.
speaking of which. in light of The New Economy*, one must consider ways to make money, feed oneself and what to do for entertainment and hobbies. for cheap and/or free. here are a few ideas:
1. as mentioned before, sell your clothing. not stripping. take clothes that you are currently not wearing, preferably semi-fashionable and with no apparent deodorant rings (i learned this the hard way), and walk to (in this order) buffalo exchange, crossroads, red light and then crossroads again. in this cascading order, the pickier stores will buy the best stuff for higher prices, the vintage items will trickle down to red light and crossroads will have a different clothing buyer every eight hours, so who cares. they take anything.
2. collect all the pennies and jars of change in your house and take 'em to coinstar. don't take jars of quarters, people will get mad (i.e. laundry, bus money, etc). but they probably won't notice if you take that creepy, beer-stained glass under the coffee table in the living room full of 43 cents. hey, it all adds up.
3. sell shit on craigslist. that weird bookshelf you found on the street? sell it! the lamp "from pier 1 imports, just bought it but it doesnt match my new paint job"? yep, that's a good story. someone will want the smashed lamp you took from your dorm lounge three years ago. profit!
4. get crafty. my neighbors found beads and feathers somewhere, no they are gluing them to headbands. $10. hey, these things sell at urban for my $20.
5. food bank. i hear they exist. i should look into this, actually.
6. food stamps. i tried to apply. but the application form that came in the mail got lost. oops.
7. cheap medical attention! country doctor, like 18th & republican. you go there for your eye infection, weird cold, refill on thyroid meds, whatever. its only $15 if you're poor.
8. planned parenthood. yes and yes. its free if you're poor! free birth control, free condoms (boys can go too!), free annual exam. better safe than sorry! better late than never! ha!
9. someday we will live in a place that has socialized medicine. well, at least i hope i can move to europe someday... haha bad joke. anyways, more cheap medical stuff, which SHOULD NOT BE A SECRET! quality food center pharmacy. ask about their $10 for 3 months worth of generic meds deal. so legit. fill out a application, show your prescription (which you can get at country doctor or PP, yay!) and you're good to go.
10. busking. find a talent, dress up a bit, go hit up pikes place market on a saturday. might work. or you might get shooed along by police. whatevs.
11. yard sale. my neighbors are about to move to new york, and they are going to sell all their stuff out on the sidewalk. nice!
12. actually, there are a lot of semi- to un-legit ways to make money. selling smuggled drugs and stripping are just two things i have actually, seriously considered. stripping might be a pain because i hate shaving my legs. ...and i'd probably have to shave a lot more than that, now that i think of it. hm. back to selling mescaline.
once you got the money-makin' and money-savin' thing down, its time to move into the money-free entertainment category. how to have fun for free!
1. play at the park. no joke, its sort of fun. i wish it was warm though.
2. watch movies online. and TV shows! yay!
3. get dumpstered snacks and watch aforementioned TV shows.
4. go to a karaoke night at a bar. pre-funk beforehand and maybe they won't notice you're not buying drinks...
5. actually just get a friend who has an actual job to buy a pitcher.
6. sing for your drinks. (have done it)
7. frye art museum. free, i've heard.
8. sort through all your old bus transfers and find the right color for today. ride the bus! its fun!
9. naps.
10. cuddling.
11. making out.
12. sex.
13. actually all those could have gone under one bullet.
14. making cookies out of things you find in your kitchen. aka really old lumpy sugar.
okay enough fuzzy, free ways to have fun. on to other things. frey left, by the way. ridiculously sad, not sure what to do with myself. i pick up my phone like once a day in a mad rush to text out: MUST TALK, PRESSE, NOW, FRITES AND BLOODY MARYS??? but then i remember that our french fry and cocktail traditions are over for the moment. frey packed up her bags, her cat, and left for san francisco a week ago. seems so much longer ago. the night before she left, the goblin kids and i moped around until someone suggested that we grab a coupla six-packs of fat tire. next thing we know, a fat tire night is in full-swing, all of us blasting our favorite songs, sing-along time, laughing at the old stories, shouting across the room when normal indoor voices would have sufficed, and wow, where did all this beer come from?
it was good. just like the night we all met, two years ago. and the next day, her new McBoyfriend arrived at the airport, came to the house to help her load her car, and they drove off. us goblin house kids took a quick snapshot in front of the house, hugged her one-by-one, and then ran alongside her car as it drove off down the street. someone shouted, "just married!" as a joke and i called out to "write the ol' fam a lettah." but it did feel like we were giving one of our daughters away, in some sort of ridiculously backwards, old-timey shotgun wedding. weird.
anyways, frey is gone, hopefully soaking up the sun and her McBoyfriend and new coffee job. the house has been quiet since she left. josh is out, moved over to 20th & union or something. everyone else works a ton it seems. actually. work-wise, i have moved back into the poverty category. and thus the aforementioned list of ways to be poor and survive. i mean, its bad. i overdrew my account twice in the last two weeks, my credit card is basically maxed out and almost bounced a check. plus student loans. bam. one day, feeling the pangs of hunger, i looked through my drawers to see what i could sell. i sold my clothes. for money. to eat. welcome to the new economy.
and so, when a couple of shifts opened up at my A.R.J., i snatched them up. opening shift? no problem! 10 hour shift? yes, please! two doubles in one week? i'll take it. I AM DESPERATE. and have no problem sharing that. yes, working sixteen hours in one day makes me want to die, but when you are begging your roommates to for any random pennies they might want to get rid of so that you can haul a jar of coins to the change machine just to buy yourself a pita and hummus, things start to look a little different.
back to the dilemma of to date or not-to-date? things are... the same. always. i am enamored, i am pissed, i am confused, his phone dies for a week, i am over it, he shows up at my window at 3 in the morning from all the way across town throwing little pebbles and telling me he couldn't stand not seeing me for another second, i am flattered, he is drunk, it doesn't matter anymore. we go on. one day last week he came over, surprised to see a tall, freakish-ly good-looking french man sleeping on my couch. its a traveling couchsurfer*, i explain. he is not comforted, and asks me if he should be worried about "some european guy stealing his girlfriend." i just laugh at his sudden show of jealousy and wonder why he is calling me his girlfriend.
the next day we hung out with some of his friends, running around downtown. the convention center was hosting "sakura-con 09," which is about the most fucked-up shit i have ever encountered. like 10,000 anime fans gathered for a three day event in which apparently there are workshops and anime celebrities or something. oh, and EVERYONE dresses up. i wasn't surprised at the 400 sailor moons i observed. the 200 pokemon characters seemed somewhat appropriate too. there were several thousand obscure anime characters that i did not recognize, but the kids kept running across the place shouting, "OH EM GEE its ka-won-tee from dragon magic riders!" or something. but then there were a few super hero characters, TV personalities (i saw 3 stewies from family guy), and then the line bewteen anime and disney was blurred. at one point all the snow whites of the convention had gathered. cinderella (time two) joined in also. i can see how disney is animated. i was also pretty confused by indiana jones, three nuns and a girl in a green bathing suit. that didn't make sense. but then all was trumped when straight-up jesus came strolling by with a cross. anime? not so much. he had braces too.
anime fest 09. the boy and i strolled around, laughing, sipping vodka out of paper coffee cups and taking pictures. several of his friends joined us and while it was cool to meet them, the title girlfriend was busted out a few more times. weird. the day ended with dinner at pikes place market and a return to the hill. nice.
easter morning was all work, but afterwards i was itching to just curl up and watch movies. what's better than watching movies? watching them with a boy. what's better than cuddling and watching movies with a boy? building a roaring fire and having the whole house to yourselves. ha. well, at least you think the house is empty, and then you walk around in nothing but his tee-shirt and half of his housemates are having a pow-wow in the hallway. ah yes.
appendix!
*The New Economy: its a recession, let's be honest. money is tight, jobs suck, we are all poor, no matter what our conservative republican parents say ("people are just imagining this. things were fine under bush!" no, no they weren't.)
*couchsurfer: i like traveling. i like travelers. i am signed up for couchsurfing.com. i let cool travelers stay on my couch, and when i travel, i crash on their couches. pretty legit.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
redefining old definitions
friday night was a good night. well, it started out perfect. i came home from work, and frey, ruth, jerad and micah were all headed out to the comet for afternoon $1 PBRs. i joined in, and pretty soon we had a beeramid* stacked up in the middle of the table. i turned to frey at one point to mention that i had seen one of our mutual friends come in to my restaurant job. i casually threw in the fact she was with a new man-friend.
silence.
i had opened my big mouth again, and forgot who i was talking about. this friend of ours isn't just anyone. she is micah's two-time ex-girlfriend. and he's not dealing with it well. and i just said the worst thing possible, and now the shit was about to hit the fan. and hit the fan it did. for forty-five minutes we watched micah build the beeramid up to epic proportions, getting more and more cynical and bitter as the beers went down. we all looked around at each other nervously. 'i just am terrified to see her, terrified to hear about her dating someone and honestly, i just can't even deal with hearing her name,' he slurred before excusing himself from our presence and returning home.
true love? or tainted love? i don't know. as we discussed it, frey's phone rang. her face, a bit flushed from the beer, turned a shade of scarlet that wasn't embarrassment or warmth. something new. she ran outside to answer it. no need to ask who it was. frey has about the best situation out of all of us. after years of not really getting into the dating scene of having to wallow in shitty situations, she meets a guy at a coffee convention. they hit it off and begin an adorably innocent phone correspondence. they get to see each other a few other times, in LA, and then in portland for various coffee events. by the end of the portland rendezvous, frey has decided to quit her job, move to san francisco, and date this boy. its a coffee shop fairytale.
there's a lot more to the story, of course, but its nice to something working out. i am truly excited for frey, and her new McBoyfriend. i feel like everyone in my life is in some sort of drama right now, whether good or bad. john came upstairs the other day and suddenly asked me if i would give him advice. surprised, i put down my laptop and looked at him. he has been dating a terrific girl for ... well forever, it seems. after we talked about the pros and cons he decided to go over to his lady's house and talk. i saw him today. they are good. le sigh. then there's nik. his on-again, off-again lady lover came back into his life after tearing it up for a year. nik wonders aloud, is it me or her? did i set myself up to be treated badly? maybe if they can each learn to love themselves, they can turn and offer love to one another in a healthier way, i suggested. he calls her up. last, my friend cortney. she started dating sweet little barista brandon about five months ago. he is a 'friend of the family,' and a well-respected guy at my house. their adorable romance seemed fine, but cortney would confide in me that she felt like she was more invested then he was. after a few months of feeling shitty about being the only one who was saying 'i love you' and meaning it, they broke things off. at first, all of us friends prepared for another split of micah and his ex-girlfriend proportions. we wondered about parties, schedules, started thinking about how to arrange things so no awkward interactions would have to happen. but magically, things are fine! cortney called me on saturday to see if i wanted to play pool, but i was already with brandon. i told her and apologized. but surprisingly, she said she would show up anyways. we all hung out, they are friends, things don't have to change. wow. a good breakup? perhaps it is possible.
back to life. ive been thinking lately. maybe i have lost my standards for relationships. these days, my only requirements include things such as 1. he doesn't steal money from you. 2. he doesn't verbally abuse you. and 3. you speak mostly the same language and/or live in the same country. i mean, that only narrows down the pool a bit. whatever happened to similar interests, liking his family, being great friends, understanding his past, communication skills, and, oh yeah, being head-over-heels for a guy? i mean, really, head-over-heels. seriously.
as my man-friend and i flopped back on his bed last night, reaching for one-another and kissing and 'that was great' sorta stuff happening, i got bold. 'what are we doing?' i asked. 'i mean, what is this? i really like you, but im starting to wonder what this situation is? what should i call it?' my words crashed together as i got more and more nervous. silence. my heart dropped. so bad. i shook his arm, wondering if he had fallen asleep. 'i just... well, what are you thinking?' i whisper. 'i don't know.' he mumbles, not looking me in the eye. i shake his arm again, hoping, like a magic-eight ball, that it will wield a different answer. 'i don't know.' he repeats. i roll over and stare at the ceiling. i know damn well what his answer means. i don't know, means, i don't want to date you. for some reason, that hurts a lot.
i had lunch with a friend the other day. we haven't talked in so long, even though out of my entire friend group, we have always understood each other so well. heck, we have even dated each others' friends. actually, quite often. and in the end, we have always been there for each other. but the last year of my life seems to have separated us. when i left for south america, i broke things off with his good guy friend. it was a bad situation. his guy friend was the ex-boyfriend of the girl he was currently dating. if that makes sense. so while each of us was dating someone, our respective dates were in between fuming at each other and pining for one another. at times, my friend and i felt like props in their crazy post relationship game of war. my friend's lady even started posting rude things about me on myspace, which i couldn't quite take seriously from a 25-year-old who was acting like it was the height of seventh grade. so i quit, stepped away from all that. i knew the girl was hurting my friend, but he was in it for the long haul. i guess they broke up when i went backpacking in march. but by the end of summer, she had reappeared in his life, much to the dismay of all of us friends. they on-again, off-again courtship proceeded into fall, and then winter. we stopped seeing our friend, even though he used to be part of the core group of us kids. and then, in january, things changed. his lady-friend took a vacation. the next day, our buddy was back in action, going out to bars, watching movies, playing pool, going to shows. one night, him, micah, ruth and i went to a show at neumos, got drunk on PBRs, ran up and down broadway and ended up falling asleep in a pile of chips and salsa on the couch in the living room. it was one of the best nights of 2009 for me.
and then, we were back in action. long talks on the front steps about what was going on in our lives. getting coffee. one night, he took me out to the movies and we snuck in beer and candy, throwing popcorn like kids. yesterday, we went out to lunch. throughout everything, i had been avoiding the topic of his lady-friend. but now i jumped boldly into the question. 'so, are you going to keep seeing her, or what?' he looked at me, and shook his head. 'its just that, well, i spent a year and a half trying to wallow through this relationship. and the minute she leaves for this trip, i feel the most free and happy i have felt in a year and a half. i need to feel this way always.'
i want that too. i hope he can be free and happy finally. maybe its time for a little redefining on both our parts.
appendix!
beeramid: do i really need to explain this? a pyramid of beer cans. most impressive when built with such quality beers as PBR, rainier or keystone (light).
silence.
i had opened my big mouth again, and forgot who i was talking about. this friend of ours isn't just anyone. she is micah's two-time ex-girlfriend. and he's not dealing with it well. and i just said the worst thing possible, and now the shit was about to hit the fan. and hit the fan it did. for forty-five minutes we watched micah build the beeramid up to epic proportions, getting more and more cynical and bitter as the beers went down. we all looked around at each other nervously. 'i just am terrified to see her, terrified to hear about her dating someone and honestly, i just can't even deal with hearing her name,' he slurred before excusing himself from our presence and returning home.
true love? or tainted love? i don't know. as we discussed it, frey's phone rang. her face, a bit flushed from the beer, turned a shade of scarlet that wasn't embarrassment or warmth. something new. she ran outside to answer it. no need to ask who it was. frey has about the best situation out of all of us. after years of not really getting into the dating scene of having to wallow in shitty situations, she meets a guy at a coffee convention. they hit it off and begin an adorably innocent phone correspondence. they get to see each other a few other times, in LA, and then in portland for various coffee events. by the end of the portland rendezvous, frey has decided to quit her job, move to san francisco, and date this boy. its a coffee shop fairytale.
there's a lot more to the story, of course, but its nice to something working out. i am truly excited for frey, and her new McBoyfriend. i feel like everyone in my life is in some sort of drama right now, whether good or bad. john came upstairs the other day and suddenly asked me if i would give him advice. surprised, i put down my laptop and looked at him. he has been dating a terrific girl for ... well forever, it seems. after we talked about the pros and cons he decided to go over to his lady's house and talk. i saw him today. they are good. le sigh. then there's nik. his on-again, off-again lady lover came back into his life after tearing it up for a year. nik wonders aloud, is it me or her? did i set myself up to be treated badly? maybe if they can each learn to love themselves, they can turn and offer love to one another in a healthier way, i suggested. he calls her up. last, my friend cortney. she started dating sweet little barista brandon about five months ago. he is a 'friend of the family,' and a well-respected guy at my house. their adorable romance seemed fine, but cortney would confide in me that she felt like she was more invested then he was. after a few months of feeling shitty about being the only one who was saying 'i love you' and meaning it, they broke things off. at first, all of us friends prepared for another split of micah and his ex-girlfriend proportions. we wondered about parties, schedules, started thinking about how to arrange things so no awkward interactions would have to happen. but magically, things are fine! cortney called me on saturday to see if i wanted to play pool, but i was already with brandon. i told her and apologized. but surprisingly, she said she would show up anyways. we all hung out, they are friends, things don't have to change. wow. a good breakup? perhaps it is possible.
back to life. ive been thinking lately. maybe i have lost my standards for relationships. these days, my only requirements include things such as 1. he doesn't steal money from you. 2. he doesn't verbally abuse you. and 3. you speak mostly the same language and/or live in the same country. i mean, that only narrows down the pool a bit. whatever happened to similar interests, liking his family, being great friends, understanding his past, communication skills, and, oh yeah, being head-over-heels for a guy? i mean, really, head-over-heels. seriously.
as my man-friend and i flopped back on his bed last night, reaching for one-another and kissing and 'that was great' sorta stuff happening, i got bold. 'what are we doing?' i asked. 'i mean, what is this? i really like you, but im starting to wonder what this situation is? what should i call it?' my words crashed together as i got more and more nervous. silence. my heart dropped. so bad. i shook his arm, wondering if he had fallen asleep. 'i just... well, what are you thinking?' i whisper. 'i don't know.' he mumbles, not looking me in the eye. i shake his arm again, hoping, like a magic-eight ball, that it will wield a different answer. 'i don't know.' he repeats. i roll over and stare at the ceiling. i know damn well what his answer means. i don't know, means, i don't want to date you. for some reason, that hurts a lot.
i had lunch with a friend the other day. we haven't talked in so long, even though out of my entire friend group, we have always understood each other so well. heck, we have even dated each others' friends. actually, quite often. and in the end, we have always been there for each other. but the last year of my life seems to have separated us. when i left for south america, i broke things off with his good guy friend. it was a bad situation. his guy friend was the ex-boyfriend of the girl he was currently dating. if that makes sense. so while each of us was dating someone, our respective dates were in between fuming at each other and pining for one another. at times, my friend and i felt like props in their crazy post relationship game of war. my friend's lady even started posting rude things about me on myspace, which i couldn't quite take seriously from a 25-year-old who was acting like it was the height of seventh grade. so i quit, stepped away from all that. i knew the girl was hurting my friend, but he was in it for the long haul. i guess they broke up when i went backpacking in march. but by the end of summer, she had reappeared in his life, much to the dismay of all of us friends. they on-again, off-again courtship proceeded into fall, and then winter. we stopped seeing our friend, even though he used to be part of the core group of us kids. and then, in january, things changed. his lady-friend took a vacation. the next day, our buddy was back in action, going out to bars, watching movies, playing pool, going to shows. one night, him, micah, ruth and i went to a show at neumos, got drunk on PBRs, ran up and down broadway and ended up falling asleep in a pile of chips and salsa on the couch in the living room. it was one of the best nights of 2009 for me.
and then, we were back in action. long talks on the front steps about what was going on in our lives. getting coffee. one night, he took me out to the movies and we snuck in beer and candy, throwing popcorn like kids. yesterday, we went out to lunch. throughout everything, i had been avoiding the topic of his lady-friend. but now i jumped boldly into the question. 'so, are you going to keep seeing her, or what?' he looked at me, and shook his head. 'its just that, well, i spent a year and a half trying to wallow through this relationship. and the minute she leaves for this trip, i feel the most free and happy i have felt in a year and a half. i need to feel this way always.'
i want that too. i hope he can be free and happy finally. maybe its time for a little redefining on both our parts.
appendix!
beeramid: do i really need to explain this? a pyramid of beer cans. most impressive when built with such quality beers as PBR, rainier or keystone (light).
Friday, March 27, 2009
the same old plot
i watched this movie last night. its about a nerdy boy who has lofty dreams of getting away from his hum-drum job and actually using his creative talent to produce something awesome. and then his girlfriend of five years dumps him, and he is crushed. he tries to get away from her and ends up repeatedly running into her. he also accidentally meets a girl at her work and starts to sorta date her. but she gets concerned that it is too soon after his old relationship has ended, and this causes drama. oh, and nerdy boy also discovers that his ex had been cheating on him for a year before they actually broke up. which sorta causes him to hate her a bit and feel shitty about himself.
no, they did not make a movie about my life. and maybe the nerdy boy in the movie dreams of producing a rock opera about dracula using puppetry, instead of a dark thriller film. and maybe the movie in question takes place in hawaii, instead of capitol hill, like my life. okay, let's be honest. i am talking about 'forgetting sarah marshall,' and i just like finding vague life lessons in film and TV and attempting to apply them to my life. i'm over it.
but really. funny, great movie. not like, oscar materiel, but you know. and there are a lot of similarities to my own life. i mean, barista boy is, well, a barista. and while his ex-girlfriend is not a movie star, but rather a well-known bartender in the area, same diff.
back to reality. barista boy's childhood friend was in town this week, so that the two could start some work on a film that both of them have dreamt of working on for years. i had heard the plotting and planning for a while, but had not really understood the magnitude of this project. like, they are seriously making a movie. sorta crazy.
anyways, the whole week was occupied with the two boys running around scouting out filming locations, gathering an art department, casting and a whole lotta other stuff i didn't understand. i was excited for my guy, but a bit disappointed that i couldn't see him so much. on night five of film craziness 2009, i texted him. i knew he was doing a lot of planning with his friend that night, but couldn't we all meet in a bar and take an hour break to relax with a pitcher? well, turns out he was already at a bar. huh. with his friend, of course, having a "meeting." with the art department too. well, fine. i had been planning on going out with a few of my roommates, and turns out their bar of choice coincided with barista boy's bar. perfect.
at the bar, i spotted him right away. not wanting to interrupt, i just threw over a brief smile and mouthed, 'hi.' barista boy, in the middle of excitedly explaining some story, saw me and waved me over. i stopped by for a minute and explained that my friends were coming too (trying not to seem as though i was stalking him) and we would be sitting at the bar. 'stop by and visit?' i asked coyly. he grinned.
yeah, right. an hour later, my friends are at the bar with me, laughing and gettin' tipsy and throwing peanut shells on the floor. across the bar, barista boy's friends are doing the same. everyone is having a jolly good ol' time, except for me. he is still sitting at his table, drinking a third pitcher and hasn't even walked the twenty seconds across the damn bar to say hi to my friends. he isn't busy with planning out his epic film, he is just boozing and laughing. what's worse, he is laughing with the annoyingly cute 'art department' girls who keep flashing me bitchy stares every time i look over at the boy. well, i refuse to walk over to his table. i came here with friends, not to see him! and if he wants to hang out, i will be right over here.
two hours in, i am pissed. i am stress eating peanuts and there is a growing mound of rage at my feet. i think i have drank about five beers, but my brain is clear as a bell, working its way into a spiral of frustration. he is still with his friends. my friends are oblivious to the whole situation at this point, thank god. how embarrassing. my own man-friend* won't even come say hi. i feel like an idiot.
if i felt like an idiot then, i felt even more like an idiot ten minutes later. a large group of his friends got up to leave, clearing space for my friends to transfer over to his table. we all squished into the booth, somehow getting myself placed in the highly unfortunate spot next to his intoxicated friend and two art department girls away from my boy. more of my friends showed up and, wonderful as they are, attempted to make conversation with all his friends. as i attempted to avoid conversation with drunk childhood friend (speech was happening at a painfully slow speed), all i could do was stare across the table, at the two art department girls (alyiah and maya or some other dumb dead r&b artist names, i don't know). again, my boy was drunk, oblivious, and some dumb bitch was grabbing his arm and flirting with him. NOT DOWN.
the finale to the trainwreck of a night was about to happen. alyiah turns to me (finally noticing me!) and asks my name. i tell it to her, staring her down. 'oh!' she says, smiling like a smart-ass who already knew exactly who i was. 'so, you're her. hm. nice. well, i've known this boy for many years. you see, i'm good friends with annie.'
oh, really, we're going there?
nice. so ex-girlfriend's name is pulled out, like some sort of hidden grenade. just for your info, sweetheart, she seemed to say haughtily. immediately after putting out the 'i hate your face because you're fucking with my friend's ex,' she smiles icily and goes back to leaning all over the boy. i am speechless. and raging. and my stupid boy is completely unaware of anything. fuck it.
i leave, ready to never come back. he comes outside, asks me where i'm going. home. he says he is going to go smoke pot with his buddies, and will i be around later? i shrug my shoulder and walk off. bastard. two hours later, after having a mini cry and falling asleep, he texts me. i ignore it. her texts me again, i tell him im asleep. he asks if he can stay over. i tell him the back door will be unlocked, but don't expect me to be awake.
as i am writing all this, i am wondering. why do i keep putting up with all this bullshit? on one hand, i know he just got out of a five-year relationship. i want him to run around, drink more than usual, let loose with his buddies, be accountable to no one. he needs it. he's been cooped up for half a decade. but on the other hand, i know that i haven't just gotten out of a relationship. i've spent the past few years running around, getting it out of my system. i want a fucking relationship. i want a boyfriend. i want to be able to rely on him, communicate with him, trust him. i don't want to have to nag him, train him, take care of him like some sort of worn-out mother. i hate that i have to remind him to study or get sleep or not drink too much. and for someone who isn't even his girlfriend, this sucks. he needs to be single for a while. i knew this from the beginning. and now, i know what i have to do. it just hard to think about doing it.
appendix!
man-friend: another word for suitor, your young man, gentlemen caller, lover, amigovio. definitely NOT synonymous with boyfriend. a great word for when your guy won't fucking commit to anything and you have no idea in hell what to refer to him as.
no, they did not make a movie about my life. and maybe the nerdy boy in the movie dreams of producing a rock opera about dracula using puppetry, instead of a dark thriller film. and maybe the movie in question takes place in hawaii, instead of capitol hill, like my life. okay, let's be honest. i am talking about 'forgetting sarah marshall,' and i just like finding vague life lessons in film and TV and attempting to apply them to my life. i'm over it.
but really. funny, great movie. not like, oscar materiel, but you know. and there are a lot of similarities to my own life. i mean, barista boy is, well, a barista. and while his ex-girlfriend is not a movie star, but rather a well-known bartender in the area, same diff.
back to reality. barista boy's childhood friend was in town this week, so that the two could start some work on a film that both of them have dreamt of working on for years. i had heard the plotting and planning for a while, but had not really understood the magnitude of this project. like, they are seriously making a movie. sorta crazy.
anyways, the whole week was occupied with the two boys running around scouting out filming locations, gathering an art department, casting and a whole lotta other stuff i didn't understand. i was excited for my guy, but a bit disappointed that i couldn't see him so much. on night five of film craziness 2009, i texted him. i knew he was doing a lot of planning with his friend that night, but couldn't we all meet in a bar and take an hour break to relax with a pitcher? well, turns out he was already at a bar. huh. with his friend, of course, having a "meeting." with the art department too. well, fine. i had been planning on going out with a few of my roommates, and turns out their bar of choice coincided with barista boy's bar. perfect.
at the bar, i spotted him right away. not wanting to interrupt, i just threw over a brief smile and mouthed, 'hi.' barista boy, in the middle of excitedly explaining some story, saw me and waved me over. i stopped by for a minute and explained that my friends were coming too (trying not to seem as though i was stalking him) and we would be sitting at the bar. 'stop by and visit?' i asked coyly. he grinned.
yeah, right. an hour later, my friends are at the bar with me, laughing and gettin' tipsy and throwing peanut shells on the floor. across the bar, barista boy's friends are doing the same. everyone is having a jolly good ol' time, except for me. he is still sitting at his table, drinking a third pitcher and hasn't even walked the twenty seconds across the damn bar to say hi to my friends. he isn't busy with planning out his epic film, he is just boozing and laughing. what's worse, he is laughing with the annoyingly cute 'art department' girls who keep flashing me bitchy stares every time i look over at the boy. well, i refuse to walk over to his table. i came here with friends, not to see him! and if he wants to hang out, i will be right over here.
two hours in, i am pissed. i am stress eating peanuts and there is a growing mound of rage at my feet. i think i have drank about five beers, but my brain is clear as a bell, working its way into a spiral of frustration. he is still with his friends. my friends are oblivious to the whole situation at this point, thank god. how embarrassing. my own man-friend* won't even come say hi. i feel like an idiot.
if i felt like an idiot then, i felt even more like an idiot ten minutes later. a large group of his friends got up to leave, clearing space for my friends to transfer over to his table. we all squished into the booth, somehow getting myself placed in the highly unfortunate spot next to his intoxicated friend and two art department girls away from my boy. more of my friends showed up and, wonderful as they are, attempted to make conversation with all his friends. as i attempted to avoid conversation with drunk childhood friend (speech was happening at a painfully slow speed), all i could do was stare across the table, at the two art department girls (alyiah and maya or some other dumb dead r&b artist names, i don't know). again, my boy was drunk, oblivious, and some dumb bitch was grabbing his arm and flirting with him. NOT DOWN.
the finale to the trainwreck of a night was about to happen. alyiah turns to me (finally noticing me!) and asks my name. i tell it to her, staring her down. 'oh!' she says, smiling like a smart-ass who already knew exactly who i was. 'so, you're her. hm. nice. well, i've known this boy for many years. you see, i'm good friends with annie.'
oh, really, we're going there?
nice. so ex-girlfriend's name is pulled out, like some sort of hidden grenade. just for your info, sweetheart, she seemed to say haughtily. immediately after putting out the 'i hate your face because you're fucking with my friend's ex,' she smiles icily and goes back to leaning all over the boy. i am speechless. and raging. and my stupid boy is completely unaware of anything. fuck it.
i leave, ready to never come back. he comes outside, asks me where i'm going. home. he says he is going to go smoke pot with his buddies, and will i be around later? i shrug my shoulder and walk off. bastard. two hours later, after having a mini cry and falling asleep, he texts me. i ignore it. her texts me again, i tell him im asleep. he asks if he can stay over. i tell him the back door will be unlocked, but don't expect me to be awake.
as i am writing all this, i am wondering. why do i keep putting up with all this bullshit? on one hand, i know he just got out of a five-year relationship. i want him to run around, drink more than usual, let loose with his buddies, be accountable to no one. he needs it. he's been cooped up for half a decade. but on the other hand, i know that i haven't just gotten out of a relationship. i've spent the past few years running around, getting it out of my system. i want a fucking relationship. i want a boyfriend. i want to be able to rely on him, communicate with him, trust him. i don't want to have to nag him, train him, take care of him like some sort of worn-out mother. i hate that i have to remind him to study or get sleep or not drink too much. and for someone who isn't even his girlfriend, this sucks. he needs to be single for a while. i knew this from the beginning. and now, i know what i have to do. it just hard to think about doing it.
appendix!
man-friend: another word for suitor, your young man, gentlemen caller, lover, amigovio. definitely NOT synonymous with boyfriend. a great word for when your guy won't fucking commit to anything and you have no idea in hell what to refer to him as.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
momentarily perfect
ah. twenty-four hours of nothing going wrong. finally.
last night i ended my four-day streak of working. and so, of course, i ended it on a high note: by plopping myself down at the bar at my Actual Restaurant Job and indulging in my shift drinks (plus some). happy saint patty's day!
ah co-workers. its the funny thing about working in a restaurant - one minute you are all about to kill each other, cursing their laziness that caused you to do ALL the side work or their inattentiveness that cost you that tip. and the next minute, you are all leaning on one another, drinking for hours at the bar and becoming Best Friends Forever. also sometimes one particular kitchen staff lady will start drunkenly showing you pictures of her cat. hm.
and so began my saint patty's day night. on beer number whatever, i was happily texting barista boy back and forth, trying to see if our paths could cross. i was distracted, however, because: 1. one of the kitchen prep cooks was getting boozy and talking to me about her cats. and 2. an old friend suddenly started texting me ridiculously flirty messages.
background info! summer 2008 was ridiculous in this girl's life. boy ridiculous. grade A ridiculous. details? no, too long of a story. facts. around july, i meet three separate boys: 1. McWaiter - an adorable server at the now defunct cafe around the corner. also an accomplished painter. 2. McCult - a gorgeous (think former model) film guy who works at amazon when he's not hanging out with his adorable and somewhat creepily close younger brother. also, he once confessed to me that his entire family was raised in a cult. absolute truth! 3. McBoeing - a nerdily cute engineer who had just moved up from california to work at the airline manufacturer. likes riding bikes and watching good movies.
did i mention the uniting fact that all three of these amazing gentlemen who each clearly pursued me during the last confusing six months of 2008 shared? oh yes, none of them were single.
thanks, universe. so, basically, each of them had either an off-and-on again gee-eff, a girlfriend who was currently in another continent or, in one case, a solid four-year relationship. and yet they all flirted, went on (basically) dates, called, texted, and in one case, confessed their attraction and attempted to kiss and subsequently, sleep with me.
stupid summer. i didn't let anything happen, but eventually, it destroyed the friendships i was attempting to maintain with the three guys. we fizzled out, stopped calling, and one guy moved away. but (back to the point!) on tuesday night, McWaiter reappeared in my life in the form of aggressive text-flirtation. all night, from my A.R.J. to (later on) the redwood, he basically text booty-called me. so bizarre.
avoiding the texts, kitchen staff cat lady and i headed over to aforementioned bar. i was eager to see barista boy, who was meeting me there, as well as some other co-workers. but as soon as i walked in, things started to suck. the co-workers who were supposed to meet me were so drunk that they were stumbling home. i couldn't find barista boy. and beyond being stuck with cat lady, suddenly my slutty capitol hill record appeared EVERYWHERE. McTrendy, McFlower, and this random guy who i don't even have a name for all boozingly surrounded me. i was forced to smile awkwardly, give the obligatory hug and 'oh hi! i havent seen you in forever!' and politely decline a drink. uggg. and yes, perfect timing, as the prior hookups of my life presented themselves in practically fucking alphabetical order (while my phone is going nuts with McWaiter texting like crazy AND kitchen staff cat lady is leaning on me asking if i want to drink more - yes.), suddenly behind me barista boy shows up. 'what's going on?,' he asks.
FML*
somehow i ward off the crowds of embarrassment and sit down for a drink with my coffee crush. and then, suddenly, things are good. kitchen staff lady finds a few friends to talk to. embarrassing mistakes disappear. drinks also disappear. and next thing i know, barista boy and i are happily stumbling home.
the next morning is warm sunshine spilling onto shared sheets, my cats climbing into bed with us and waking us up with their purrs. we slept in, well-aware of our lack of obligations for the day. around noon we finally dressed and walked over to his coffee shop, for delicious espresso and reading the paper. we grabbed lunch at a near-by vietnamese restaurant; catching ourselves feeding one another tidbits from our respective plates via shared chopsticks and elbows on tables; wanting the distance caused by the tiny table to be less. so relationshipXcore!
later we caught a bus to the u-district, with barista boy jumping off the bus at an unexpected stop, lightly tugging my hand along with him. why? because he wanted to show me an amazing exhibition at an art gallery. cute. next, we walked to his house and sat around listening to belle & sebastian records while screen printing t-shirts for my friend. double cute. the wonderful twenty-four hours of my life ended with him walking me back to my place, stopping in the middle of a sidewalk along a busy street to passionately smooch me. actually we were in front of a full bus. sort of public, sort of disgusting, sort of i melted.
i continued my evening in a haze of stopping by my new work for orientation and later, a housewarming party for a friend. yet i couldn't get my brain off my wonderfully amazing day. so silly, so not logical. but here i am. ugg.
appendix!
* FML - Fuck My Life. a phrase that immediately demands sympathy from others. often follows an unfortunate 'that REALLY sucks, dude!' story or series of unfortunate events (not the book). also a website. someone, apparently, had the wonderful idea of compiling submitted FML stories in handy, constantly updated blog form. http://www.fmylife.com
last night i ended my four-day streak of working. and so, of course, i ended it on a high note: by plopping myself down at the bar at my Actual Restaurant Job and indulging in my shift drinks (plus some). happy saint patty's day!
ah co-workers. its the funny thing about working in a restaurant - one minute you are all about to kill each other, cursing their laziness that caused you to do ALL the side work or their inattentiveness that cost you that tip. and the next minute, you are all leaning on one another, drinking for hours at the bar and becoming Best Friends Forever. also sometimes one particular kitchen staff lady will start drunkenly showing you pictures of her cat. hm.
and so began my saint patty's day night. on beer number whatever, i was happily texting barista boy back and forth, trying to see if our paths could cross. i was distracted, however, because: 1. one of the kitchen prep cooks was getting boozy and talking to me about her cats. and 2. an old friend suddenly started texting me ridiculously flirty messages.
background info! summer 2008 was ridiculous in this girl's life. boy ridiculous. grade A ridiculous. details? no, too long of a story. facts. around july, i meet three separate boys: 1. McWaiter - an adorable server at the now defunct cafe around the corner. also an accomplished painter. 2. McCult - a gorgeous (think former model) film guy who works at amazon when he's not hanging out with his adorable and somewhat creepily close younger brother. also, he once confessed to me that his entire family was raised in a cult. absolute truth! 3. McBoeing - a nerdily cute engineer who had just moved up from california to work at the airline manufacturer. likes riding bikes and watching good movies.
did i mention the uniting fact that all three of these amazing gentlemen who each clearly pursued me during the last confusing six months of 2008 shared? oh yes, none of them were single.
thanks, universe. so, basically, each of them had either an off-and-on again gee-eff, a girlfriend who was currently in another continent or, in one case, a solid four-year relationship. and yet they all flirted, went on (basically) dates, called, texted, and in one case, confessed their attraction and attempted to kiss and subsequently, sleep with me.
stupid summer. i didn't let anything happen, but eventually, it destroyed the friendships i was attempting to maintain with the three guys. we fizzled out, stopped calling, and one guy moved away. but (back to the point!) on tuesday night, McWaiter reappeared in my life in the form of aggressive text-flirtation. all night, from my A.R.J. to (later on) the redwood, he basically text booty-called me. so bizarre.
avoiding the texts, kitchen staff cat lady and i headed over to aforementioned bar. i was eager to see barista boy, who was meeting me there, as well as some other co-workers. but as soon as i walked in, things started to suck. the co-workers who were supposed to meet me were so drunk that they were stumbling home. i couldn't find barista boy. and beyond being stuck with cat lady, suddenly my slutty capitol hill record appeared EVERYWHERE. McTrendy, McFlower, and this random guy who i don't even have a name for all boozingly surrounded me. i was forced to smile awkwardly, give the obligatory hug and 'oh hi! i havent seen you in forever!' and politely decline a drink. uggg. and yes, perfect timing, as the prior hookups of my life presented themselves in practically fucking alphabetical order (while my phone is going nuts with McWaiter texting like crazy AND kitchen staff cat lady is leaning on me asking if i want to drink more - yes.), suddenly behind me barista boy shows up. 'what's going on?,' he asks.
FML*
somehow i ward off the crowds of embarrassment and sit down for a drink with my coffee crush. and then, suddenly, things are good. kitchen staff lady finds a few friends to talk to. embarrassing mistakes disappear. drinks also disappear. and next thing i know, barista boy and i are happily stumbling home.
the next morning is warm sunshine spilling onto shared sheets, my cats climbing into bed with us and waking us up with their purrs. we slept in, well-aware of our lack of obligations for the day. around noon we finally dressed and walked over to his coffee shop, for delicious espresso and reading the paper. we grabbed lunch at a near-by vietnamese restaurant; catching ourselves feeding one another tidbits from our respective plates via shared chopsticks and elbows on tables; wanting the distance caused by the tiny table to be less. so relationshipXcore!
later we caught a bus to the u-district, with barista boy jumping off the bus at an unexpected stop, lightly tugging my hand along with him. why? because he wanted to show me an amazing exhibition at an art gallery. cute. next, we walked to his house and sat around listening to belle & sebastian records while screen printing t-shirts for my friend. double cute. the wonderful twenty-four hours of my life ended with him walking me back to my place, stopping in the middle of a sidewalk along a busy street to passionately smooch me. actually we were in front of a full bus. sort of public, sort of disgusting, sort of i melted.
i continued my evening in a haze of stopping by my new work for orientation and later, a housewarming party for a friend. yet i couldn't get my brain off my wonderfully amazing day. so silly, so not logical. but here i am. ugg.
appendix!
* FML - Fuck My Life. a phrase that immediately demands sympathy from others. often follows an unfortunate 'that REALLY sucks, dude!' story or series of unfortunate events (not the book). also a website. someone, apparently, had the wonderful idea of compiling submitted FML stories in handy, constantly updated blog form. http://www.fmylife.com
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
another day another dollar
all of a sudden, it seems like everything is just falling into place.
jobs! jobs, money, surviving, etc. so good. one week ago today, i was at the point of poverty in which i walked to the bank in the rain to deposit thirty-seven dollars and forty-five cents in change so that my electricity bill check would not bounce. SAD. and then i walked to the consignment store where i sold a good deal of my clothes for twenty dollars and eighty-one cents, so that i could go out and drink. MORE SAD.
things have improved. on wednesday, i was called to see if i wanted a shift at my McCatering job for saturday. yes, please. thursday, i went in for interview number two at a local Independent Coffee Shop (I.C.S.). wonderfully enough, the management is pretty easy-going. so easy-going, in fact, that the owner suggested we go down the street to a bar for my interview. we chatted for a few hours, drank some drangles*, got a little buzzy, laughed lots, and, BAM! i was hired. i love capitol hill.
the next day at my Actual Restaurant Job., i was asked to cover several shifts this coming week. not just any shifts. prime servings shifts. which equals mucho dinero in tips. no joke, if i work just two of these serving shifts, i've paid for a month's worth of rent. cha-ching!
so, extra shifts, new job, and tips galore. money problems temporarily gone. and then there's the boy problems. not exactly problems, just stress, drama, etc. after getting back from portland, suddenly things seemed different with this boy. more real, more genuine. maybe we both had time to evaluate things? i don't know, but things have been good. thursday night, i was sitting at home listening to music when he called. it was 1 in the morning, and he sounded a bit drunk. he asked me to come meet him at the rosebud, so i threw on a coat and met him. i found him slouched over a whisky and looking a lot like he did the first night we met. he was joking around with his co-workers, but i could tell he was upset about something. as we walked up and down the pike/pine corridor, he started beating up on himself unnecessarily. i grabbed his arm and demanded to know what was wrong. he sighed, leaned against the wall by the comet and looked down. "i had lunch with her today. she told me she was moving to sacramento to be with her boyfriend. i asked her if it was a bit soon to move in with someone she's only been dating two months..." he trailed off. "and then i realized what every single one of my friends knew. they've been dating a lot longer than two months."
shit. wow, ouch.
so the ex-girlfriend had been going behind his back when they were dating. and poor boy, he always tends to see only the good in people. i mean, he wanted to think of his ex as a decent person, keep on cordial terms with her and always had only good things to say about her. but now, as we walked back to my house, he grew bitter. "she's a horrible person," he mumbled. he suddenly stopped and apologized to me for 'over-sharing' as he called it. i grabbed his arm as he looked away from me and stared at him. "no," i said, "this is what it should be. sharing our thoughts, feelings. i feel like we barely know each other sometimes. but i want to know you."
(moment!)
and there it is. the moment, three in the morning, standing under the flickering street lamp in front of that empty parking lot on 11th, staring at each other, wrapped up in emotion and me telling him i cared about him and wanted to understand what was going on in his head and heart, and him almost in tears, hugging me, believing that i actually cared for him as much as i said i did. it was... i don't know. a step.
and then we went home, and just slept in each others arms, barely kissing, just hugging each other. ridiculously romantic. this isn't even me. i don't know what any of this is.
back to the real world. work work work. i went into work (A.R.J) on friday morning (dazed from the previous night's conversation) and barely left work until monday night. it was crazy from hour one. i made coffee, drinks, ran food, served bar stools and tables and hosted and at one point, arranged cheeses. i also drank wine, freaked out and screamed at co-workers during my intense four-day marathon of work. on sunday, i worked a double. i was there at 9am and ended up breaking the record for most amount of hours spent working/breaking/drinking at my work. my first shift was seven hours and the next was four. but in between shifts i drank and after my second shift i drank and when my co-worker susie got off work at 11, we both drank. suddenly it was 3am and about half a dozen front of house and kitchen people were boozing heavily in the closed restaurant, helping ourselves to paper cups full of stella artois from the tap. and i hadn't left the restaurant in 18 hours. i love working in the restaurant industry.
today i slept in, resting from the ridiculous amount of work i've done in the past weekend. yet tonight i host, and it is st. patty's day. get ready to bust out the alcohol to anyone who wishes they were irish. my goodness my guiness...
appendix!
* drangles: afternoon drinks! or lunch-time. or breakfast... basically anytime when you drink and feel guilty about the early hour that you have begun boozing.
jobs! jobs, money, surviving, etc. so good. one week ago today, i was at the point of poverty in which i walked to the bank in the rain to deposit thirty-seven dollars and forty-five cents in change so that my electricity bill check would not bounce. SAD. and then i walked to the consignment store where i sold a good deal of my clothes for twenty dollars and eighty-one cents, so that i could go out and drink. MORE SAD.
things have improved. on wednesday, i was called to see if i wanted a shift at my McCatering job for saturday. yes, please. thursday, i went in for interview number two at a local Independent Coffee Shop (I.C.S.). wonderfully enough, the management is pretty easy-going. so easy-going, in fact, that the owner suggested we go down the street to a bar for my interview. we chatted for a few hours, drank some drangles*, got a little buzzy, laughed lots, and, BAM! i was hired. i love capitol hill.
the next day at my Actual Restaurant Job., i was asked to cover several shifts this coming week. not just any shifts. prime servings shifts. which equals mucho dinero in tips. no joke, if i work just two of these serving shifts, i've paid for a month's worth of rent. cha-ching!
so, extra shifts, new job, and tips galore. money problems temporarily gone. and then there's the boy problems. not exactly problems, just stress, drama, etc. after getting back from portland, suddenly things seemed different with this boy. more real, more genuine. maybe we both had time to evaluate things? i don't know, but things have been good. thursday night, i was sitting at home listening to music when he called. it was 1 in the morning, and he sounded a bit drunk. he asked me to come meet him at the rosebud, so i threw on a coat and met him. i found him slouched over a whisky and looking a lot like he did the first night we met. he was joking around with his co-workers, but i could tell he was upset about something. as we walked up and down the pike/pine corridor, he started beating up on himself unnecessarily. i grabbed his arm and demanded to know what was wrong. he sighed, leaned against the wall by the comet and looked down. "i had lunch with her today. she told me she was moving to sacramento to be with her boyfriend. i asked her if it was a bit soon to move in with someone she's only been dating two months..." he trailed off. "and then i realized what every single one of my friends knew. they've been dating a lot longer than two months."
shit. wow, ouch.
so the ex-girlfriend had been going behind his back when they were dating. and poor boy, he always tends to see only the good in people. i mean, he wanted to think of his ex as a decent person, keep on cordial terms with her and always had only good things to say about her. but now, as we walked back to my house, he grew bitter. "she's a horrible person," he mumbled. he suddenly stopped and apologized to me for 'over-sharing' as he called it. i grabbed his arm as he looked away from me and stared at him. "no," i said, "this is what it should be. sharing our thoughts, feelings. i feel like we barely know each other sometimes. but i want to know you."
(moment!)
and there it is. the moment, three in the morning, standing under the flickering street lamp in front of that empty parking lot on 11th, staring at each other, wrapped up in emotion and me telling him i cared about him and wanted to understand what was going on in his head and heart, and him almost in tears, hugging me, believing that i actually cared for him as much as i said i did. it was... i don't know. a step.
and then we went home, and just slept in each others arms, barely kissing, just hugging each other. ridiculously romantic. this isn't even me. i don't know what any of this is.
back to the real world. work work work. i went into work (A.R.J) on friday morning (dazed from the previous night's conversation) and barely left work until monday night. it was crazy from hour one. i made coffee, drinks, ran food, served bar stools and tables and hosted and at one point, arranged cheeses. i also drank wine, freaked out and screamed at co-workers during my intense four-day marathon of work. on sunday, i worked a double. i was there at 9am and ended up breaking the record for most amount of hours spent working/breaking/drinking at my work. my first shift was seven hours and the next was four. but in between shifts i drank and after my second shift i drank and when my co-worker susie got off work at 11, we both drank. suddenly it was 3am and about half a dozen front of house and kitchen people were boozing heavily in the closed restaurant, helping ourselves to paper cups full of stella artois from the tap. and i hadn't left the restaurant in 18 hours. i love working in the restaurant industry.
today i slept in, resting from the ridiculous amount of work i've done in the past weekend. yet tonight i host, and it is st. patty's day. get ready to bust out the alcohol to anyone who wishes they were irish. my goodness my guiness...
appendix!
* drangles: afternoon drinks! or lunch-time. or breakfast... basically anytime when you drink and feel guilty about the early hour that you have begun boozing.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
what had happened
okay, so the last post was a little hasty. and severe. if i can break this all down into two parts maybe we can figure out what had happened...
part one.
the beginning of the week was spent in a haze of McCatering, fun nights at little pubs, and of course, another dream run of deliciously nice dates with barista boy. he holds my hand when we walk around town, he buys me coffees and beers and food, he introduces me to his friends. etc etc etc. getting a little boyfriendXcore. but the scary thing is, i don't really mind.
wednesday! i am having a chill evening, hanging out with four nashville guys who are crashing at the goblin house*. then my friend susie calls and wants to grab a drink. i head over to oddfellows and we class it up, olympia style. i casually text barista boy, who had mentioned he was going to be at the comet that night for a show.
and then. barista boy comes crashing into oddfellows around 1. drunk. and with his even drunker female roommate. and drunker female roommate is ALL OVER HIM. yes, she is like 30. yes, she has a boyfriend. yes, she barely knows him. but seriously. bitch, please. and to make matters worse, when barista boy gets up to use the bathroom, she leans over the table to susie and i and whispers (more like shouts): "so which one of you is trying to fuck him?"
???
in the next few minutes i casually assure her that:
1. we aren't trying anything
2. don't worry, he's already being taken care of
3. actually, the girl she saw leaving the house the other morning was ME
4. NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS
actually the last point was never uttered but was strongly hinted at. the night ended with drunk roommate, barista boy and me standing outside oddfellows; me trying to have a conversation with barista boy and drunk roommate annoyingly trying to hail a cab. the conversation with barista boy was also just about the most confusing thing ever, and one i will attempt to summarize in yet another numbered list.
basically:
1. i really, really, really, really (etc etc etc) like you.
2. wait, are we dating?! (why is he asking me this? i thought we already agreed we were not.)
3. okay, we're not dating. buuuuuuut there's no one else i am seeing, or even want to see. and you're free to do what you want, but i just want to let you know that it would be hard for me to see you with someone else.
???
so... we're exclusively not dating?
part two.
i was sick of trying to figure all of this out. sick of the guessing games. sick of the back and forth. sick of feeling like a cranky girlfriend (but NOT a girlfriend!). so i decided to go to portland for the weekend. got my shift covered, bought a train ticket and called up my wonderful, crazy portland sistah kiki.
i arrived in portland friday night and headed straight to NE to meet kiki at a bar. coincidentally, the weekend i choose to flee seattle was also the weekend that all of seattle was in portland. the U.S. barista competition (yes, there is such a thing. nerdy) brought up frey, steven, brandon, cortney and a bunch of other seattle kids were packed into the ace hotel amidst all the convention center craziness and nightly barista parties (=nutty amounts of free alcohol). besides this, the four nashville guys that had been crashing at my house were now in portland. seattle invasion!
anyways. met up with kiki at a bar, she introduced me to her delightful roommates: ruji (sarcastic gay girl studying copyediting and selling sex toys made from recycled bicycle bits), regina (quiet bespeckled girl and recovering heroin addict) and levi (cute nerdy boy grad student studying math and tutoring undergrad students. just got out of a girl situation... trouble). we all got beers and sat outside smoking. i ended up talking with levi for a while, comparing notes and lamenting our not-dating situations. and then it happened. i was flirting again! what was i doing?!
the night went on, we hit up a few more bars and then drove downtown to the fez dance club. i havent been out dancing in a while but this place was crazy fun - copious amounts of silly kids dancing their little hearts out in converse shoes and hoodies. the music was all MIA to wham to rhianna. totally danceable. half way through a coupla vodka sours i realized that kiki and one of the nashville travelers had snuggled up in a corner. my buddy steven had disappeared and now all i had was a high blood alcohol content, some good tunes, and a sweet, flirty boy in front of me... two seconds later we were millimeters away from making a Ridiculous Mistake. i pulled myself and my dumb face away from him and walked away briskly. i waved my hands in front of my face a few times, almost as an afterthought, to indicate that my reason for walking away was purely a body temperature situation. i don't know if he noticed.
gah. i love how i feel guilty for almost kiss-cheating on someone i am not even dating! good lord this is stupid. anyways. back to portland. the rest of the weekend was delightfully stress-free. i hung out in NE, riding bikes to coffee shops, reading good books, laughing lots, having some good portland smokes, making lots of vegan food, drinking cheap beers and just sleeping in late. so wonderful. as for the whole levi thing, i managed to be ridiculously awkward around him at all times, providing kiki with an endless supply of things to tease me about. great.
i got back to seattle last night on the train. i felt wonderfully gross. the afternoon had consisted of kiki and i reading books in the ace hotel, grabbing multiple drinks at the ash street saloon, and then stumbling into voodoo donuts where i somehow acquired a commercial size frosting bucket full of half-day-old donuts; all before i boarded the train. arriving back at home, i shared donuts and stories before we all rushed out to the bars at midnight for my roommate josh's long-awaited 21st birthday festivities. frey showed up, and after doing the obligatory tequila shot with the birthday boy, we settled into a corner to dish on our weekends. turns out that things have been going good for her. very good. in fact, her McText is now her McBoyfriend, and among more important things such as she-might-move-down-to-san-francisco-with-him and her-mom-wants-to-meet-him and they-go-on-normal-dates-and-have-normal-conversations; besides all this, he asked her about changing her relationship status on facebook. cha-CHING! she just scored a 100% real, genuine relationship.
!!!
good for her. at least one of us knows how to date. maybe someday i'll learn too.
ps. barista boy showed up to the birthday celebrations around 1 am. he was drunk. i was drunk. we stumbled home and got a little rowdy. in the morning i realized that my roommates jerad was sleeping on the couch on the other side of my paper-thin bedroom wall. woops.
part one.
the beginning of the week was spent in a haze of McCatering, fun nights at little pubs, and of course, another dream run of deliciously nice dates with barista boy. he holds my hand when we walk around town, he buys me coffees and beers and food, he introduces me to his friends. etc etc etc. getting a little boyfriendXcore. but the scary thing is, i don't really mind.
wednesday! i am having a chill evening, hanging out with four nashville guys who are crashing at the goblin house*. then my friend susie calls and wants to grab a drink. i head over to oddfellows and we class it up, olympia style. i casually text barista boy, who had mentioned he was going to be at the comet that night for a show.
and then. barista boy comes crashing into oddfellows around 1. drunk. and with his even drunker female roommate. and drunker female roommate is ALL OVER HIM. yes, she is like 30. yes, she has a boyfriend. yes, she barely knows him. but seriously. bitch, please. and to make matters worse, when barista boy gets up to use the bathroom, she leans over the table to susie and i and whispers (more like shouts): "so which one of you is trying to fuck him?"
???
in the next few minutes i casually assure her that:
1. we aren't trying anything
2. don't worry, he's already being taken care of
3. actually, the girl she saw leaving the house the other morning was ME
4. NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS
actually the last point was never uttered but was strongly hinted at. the night ended with drunk roommate, barista boy and me standing outside oddfellows; me trying to have a conversation with barista boy and drunk roommate annoyingly trying to hail a cab. the conversation with barista boy was also just about the most confusing thing ever, and one i will attempt to summarize in yet another numbered list.
basically:
1. i really, really, really, really (etc etc etc) like you.
2. wait, are we dating?! (why is he asking me this? i thought we already agreed we were not.)
3. okay, we're not dating. buuuuuuut there's no one else i am seeing, or even want to see. and you're free to do what you want, but i just want to let you know that it would be hard for me to see you with someone else.
???
so... we're exclusively not dating?
part two.
i was sick of trying to figure all of this out. sick of the guessing games. sick of the back and forth. sick of feeling like a cranky girlfriend (but NOT a girlfriend!). so i decided to go to portland for the weekend. got my shift covered, bought a train ticket and called up my wonderful, crazy portland sistah kiki.
i arrived in portland friday night and headed straight to NE to meet kiki at a bar. coincidentally, the weekend i choose to flee seattle was also the weekend that all of seattle was in portland. the U.S. barista competition (yes, there is such a thing. nerdy) brought up frey, steven, brandon, cortney and a bunch of other seattle kids were packed into the ace hotel amidst all the convention center craziness and nightly barista parties (=nutty amounts of free alcohol). besides this, the four nashville guys that had been crashing at my house were now in portland. seattle invasion!
anyways. met up with kiki at a bar, she introduced me to her delightful roommates: ruji (sarcastic gay girl studying copyediting and selling sex toys made from recycled bicycle bits), regina (quiet bespeckled girl and recovering heroin addict) and levi (cute nerdy boy grad student studying math and tutoring undergrad students. just got out of a girl situation... trouble). we all got beers and sat outside smoking. i ended up talking with levi for a while, comparing notes and lamenting our not-dating situations. and then it happened. i was flirting again! what was i doing?!
the night went on, we hit up a few more bars and then drove downtown to the fez dance club. i havent been out dancing in a while but this place was crazy fun - copious amounts of silly kids dancing their little hearts out in converse shoes and hoodies. the music was all MIA to wham to rhianna. totally danceable. half way through a coupla vodka sours i realized that kiki and one of the nashville travelers had snuggled up in a corner. my buddy steven had disappeared and now all i had was a high blood alcohol content, some good tunes, and a sweet, flirty boy in front of me... two seconds later we were millimeters away from making a Ridiculous Mistake. i pulled myself and my dumb face away from him and walked away briskly. i waved my hands in front of my face a few times, almost as an afterthought, to indicate that my reason for walking away was purely a body temperature situation. i don't know if he noticed.
gah. i love how i feel guilty for almost kiss-cheating on someone i am not even dating! good lord this is stupid. anyways. back to portland. the rest of the weekend was delightfully stress-free. i hung out in NE, riding bikes to coffee shops, reading good books, laughing lots, having some good portland smokes, making lots of vegan food, drinking cheap beers and just sleeping in late. so wonderful. as for the whole levi thing, i managed to be ridiculously awkward around him at all times, providing kiki with an endless supply of things to tease me about. great.
i got back to seattle last night on the train. i felt wonderfully gross. the afternoon had consisted of kiki and i reading books in the ace hotel, grabbing multiple drinks at the ash street saloon, and then stumbling into voodoo donuts where i somehow acquired a commercial size frosting bucket full of half-day-old donuts; all before i boarded the train. arriving back at home, i shared donuts and stories before we all rushed out to the bars at midnight for my roommate josh's long-awaited 21st birthday festivities. frey showed up, and after doing the obligatory tequila shot with the birthday boy, we settled into a corner to dish on our weekends. turns out that things have been going good for her. very good. in fact, her McText is now her McBoyfriend, and among more important things such as she-might-move-down-to-san-francisco-with-him and her-mom-wants-to-meet-him and they-go-on-normal-dates-and-have-normal-conversations; besides all this, he asked her about changing her relationship status on facebook. cha-CHING! she just scored a 100% real, genuine relationship.
!!!
good for her. at least one of us knows how to date. maybe someday i'll learn too.
ps. barista boy showed up to the birthday celebrations around 1 am. he was drunk. i was drunk. we stumbled home and got a little rowdy. in the morning i realized that my roommates jerad was sleeping on the couch on the other side of my paper-thin bedroom wall. woops.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Monday, March 2, 2009
sunday nights on the hill
last night was wonderful. seriously. perfect. maybe the little social matchmaker in me was pleased to see the nice array of couples around me (everyone from barista boy's co-worker and his nice little gee-eff to frey and - FINALLY - McText*); maybe i actually felt like i was one of those couples for a change; or maybe i was just happily slammed by the vast amount of booze and pommes-frites in my system. whatever it was, it was a great night.
who says sunday nights are for staying in? welcome to the hill. no one stays in really, because there is always a cheap pint (okay, let's be honest, it would be a pitcher) of beer calling your name around the corner and some boozy, divey bar where you know you'll run into friends or foes. it just makes life interesting. and if you do stay in, its with season two of arrested development and a coupla' tall boys of tecate.
my plan for sunday night involved something like this (written at seven o'clock in the PM):
1. reading a good book at presse (check) while sipping on some of the new tourraine wine that just came in (check)
2. checking my email excessively at home (sadly, check)
3. consider going to kings tavern because i just found out it is $3 bloody mary nite, all nite (check check check!)
4. probably end up on the hill again
5. maybe play some pool at quarter lounge?
6. hopefully end the nite with a gleeful gathering at the goblin house (assonance. or is it alliteration?) involving a little ritual called mexi-fest 2009**, part 4.
my actual night went something like this:
1. read a book at presse and drank too much wine. stumbled home.
2. checked myspace for a bit. ian texted me about going out to ballard.
3. tried to round people up to go to ballard but everyone was a'drinking already.
4. ended up at the stumbling monk with frey and McText
5. we got drunk-er.
6. stumbled over to barista boy's work, where we partied it up after hours style with him and the other baristas, courtesy of a fridge full (not full anymore) of company beers.
7. nine of us crammed in a car and headed over to presse, where we repeated #6 but more presse-style (where pommes-frites and actual hard liquor was involved)
8. drunkkk.
9. still drunk this morning.
someday in my life, i will look back at all this and cluck (cluck?) like some sort of mother hen (in my mind i will be wearing an apron and folding a lot of little kitchen towels to stack in one of my many kitchen cabinet drawers. oh lordy) and sigh, my, what an irresponsible life i used to live. but then, after a minute of folding towels, a tiny smile will leak out onto my middle-aged face full of worry wrinkles and too many years of chaperoning school field trips and i will think, "who the fuck am i kidding. i would do it all again in a heartbeat."
back to the list. let's divulge details! first of all, frey and McText. all over it. LOVE it. while we were sitting in the stumbling monk i was torn between wanting to find a convenient excuse to leave them alone for a bit and realizing that i wanted to nerdily keep observing their out-of-control flirting. in the end i suggested that all three of us go to get caffeine from the coffee shop where my barista boy was supposedly studying.
side note. i need to calm the fuck down sometimes. i am over-analytical, anxious, paranoid sometimes. okay i am a little bat-shit crazy. saturday night, especially, heightened my bat-shit craziness. after a week of barely seeing the boy, weird phone malfunctioning and stressful schedules, i asked him what the haps were for his saturday evening. he implied that he might stay in. no biggie. BUT. around midnight, when i stopped by oddfellows to see my good friend brittany, i was shocked to see barista boy exiting the establishment with a bunch of his friends! friends=fine. going out without me=fine. implying that he was going to stay in, acting sketchy about it, leaving me in the doorway off oddfellows with an awkward kiss and 'my friends are leaving! call you in a minute!' and NOT calling?=not okay. basically, it was just weird. and then the whole bat-shit crazy thing kicked in.
anyways.
back to sunday night. i had been texting barista boy all night, asking him if he wanted to join us at the stumbling monk. it is like, his favorite bar. he said he wanted to, but should study a while. i thought it would be nice to visit him at his coffee shop where he had been camped out with his books since his mid-day shift ended. when us three arrived, he had abandoned his books over in the corner and was drinking beers with his co-workers at the bar! pfft. studying, my ass. i half-jokingly (more like one-tenth jokingly) yelled at him and he shrugged his shoulders. i made a slight scene, throwing my mittens and hat at his chest as he made excuses, i yelled some more and all my bat-shit crazy rage from the night before made itself known. he just grinned and started smooching me, the little bastard. bleh.
long story short. frey, McText, barista boy, myself and all of the coffee shop crew ended up drinking at the coffee shop for a good while. we ended up rolling over to presse and drinking a heckuva lot more, and things just got happily fuzzy for me. as barista boy and i collapsed into bed around 3, drunkenly laughing and kissing and, well, yoooou knoooowww, we had this sudden, deep, crazy conversation. i told him i had never been in love. he said (cue the paraphrasin'), what is love? it just sneaks up on you. it could be the girl you left after a six year relationship. or it could be the girl you just met.
fuck fuck fuck.
and this is the moment i realize that this is the worst idea ever. and i dont care.
i woke up this morning and wanted to stay in bed with him forever. cheesy, i know. and then, when he left, i actually watched him walk down the street from my window! who the heck am i, all of a sudden? some sort of WB teenager? frickin' A. this is scary.
appendix!
* McText: he's from san francisco, him and frey met at various barista competitions (nerdy west coast kids!), they text. a LOT. sorta like a textlationship. and now he's in town (!!!)
who says sunday nights are for staying in? welcome to the hill. no one stays in really, because there is always a cheap pint (okay, let's be honest, it would be a pitcher) of beer calling your name around the corner and some boozy, divey bar where you know you'll run into friends or foes. it just makes life interesting. and if you do stay in, its with season two of arrested development and a coupla' tall boys of tecate.
my plan for sunday night involved something like this (written at seven o'clock in the PM):
1. reading a good book at presse (check) while sipping on some of the new tourraine wine that just came in (check)
2. checking my email excessively at home (sadly, check)
3. consider going to kings tavern because i just found out it is $3 bloody mary nite, all nite (check check check!)
4. probably end up on the hill again
5. maybe play some pool at quarter lounge?
6. hopefully end the nite with a gleeful gathering at the goblin house (assonance. or is it alliteration?) involving a little ritual called mexi-fest 2009**, part 4.
my actual night went something like this:
1. read a book at presse and drank too much wine. stumbled home.
2. checked myspace for a bit. ian texted me about going out to ballard.
3. tried to round people up to go to ballard but everyone was a'drinking already.
4. ended up at the stumbling monk with frey and McText
5. we got drunk-er.
6. stumbled over to barista boy's work, where we partied it up after hours style with him and the other baristas, courtesy of a fridge full (not full anymore) of company beers.
7. nine of us crammed in a car and headed over to presse, where we repeated #6 but more presse-style (where pommes-frites and actual hard liquor was involved)
8. drunkkk.
9. still drunk this morning.
someday in my life, i will look back at all this and cluck (cluck?) like some sort of mother hen (in my mind i will be wearing an apron and folding a lot of little kitchen towels to stack in one of my many kitchen cabinet drawers. oh lordy) and sigh, my, what an irresponsible life i used to live. but then, after a minute of folding towels, a tiny smile will leak out onto my middle-aged face full of worry wrinkles and too many years of chaperoning school field trips and i will think, "who the fuck am i kidding. i would do it all again in a heartbeat."
back to the list. let's divulge details! first of all, frey and McText. all over it. LOVE it. while we were sitting in the stumbling monk i was torn between wanting to find a convenient excuse to leave them alone for a bit and realizing that i wanted to nerdily keep observing their out-of-control flirting. in the end i suggested that all three of us go to get caffeine from the coffee shop where my barista boy was supposedly studying.
side note. i need to calm the fuck down sometimes. i am over-analytical, anxious, paranoid sometimes. okay i am a little bat-shit crazy. saturday night, especially, heightened my bat-shit craziness. after a week of barely seeing the boy, weird phone malfunctioning and stressful schedules, i asked him what the haps were for his saturday evening. he implied that he might stay in. no biggie. BUT. around midnight, when i stopped by oddfellows to see my good friend brittany, i was shocked to see barista boy exiting the establishment with a bunch of his friends! friends=fine. going out without me=fine. implying that he was going to stay in, acting sketchy about it, leaving me in the doorway off oddfellows with an awkward kiss and 'my friends are leaving! call you in a minute!' and NOT calling?=not okay. basically, it was just weird. and then the whole bat-shit crazy thing kicked in.
anyways.
back to sunday night. i had been texting barista boy all night, asking him if he wanted to join us at the stumbling monk. it is like, his favorite bar. he said he wanted to, but should study a while. i thought it would be nice to visit him at his coffee shop where he had been camped out with his books since his mid-day shift ended. when us three arrived, he had abandoned his books over in the corner and was drinking beers with his co-workers at the bar! pfft. studying, my ass. i half-jokingly (more like one-tenth jokingly) yelled at him and he shrugged his shoulders. i made a slight scene, throwing my mittens and hat at his chest as he made excuses, i yelled some more and all my bat-shit crazy rage from the night before made itself known. he just grinned and started smooching me, the little bastard. bleh.
long story short. frey, McText, barista boy, myself and all of the coffee shop crew ended up drinking at the coffee shop for a good while. we ended up rolling over to presse and drinking a heckuva lot more, and things just got happily fuzzy for me. as barista boy and i collapsed into bed around 3, drunkenly laughing and kissing and, well, yoooou knoooowww, we had this sudden, deep, crazy conversation. i told him i had never been in love. he said (cue the paraphrasin'), what is love? it just sneaks up on you. it could be the girl you left after a six year relationship. or it could be the girl you just met.
fuck fuck fuck.
and this is the moment i realize that this is the worst idea ever. and i dont care.
i woke up this morning and wanted to stay in bed with him forever. cheesy, i know. and then, when he left, i actually watched him walk down the street from my window! who the heck am i, all of a sudden? some sort of WB teenager? frickin' A. this is scary.
appendix!
* McText: he's from san francisco, him and frey met at various barista competitions (nerdy west coast kids!), they text. a LOT. sorta like a textlationship. and now he's in town (!!!)
Saturday, February 28, 2009
frozen custard on the mind
ah. ah. ah. junior L word announced. and all my brain can think of is "i wonder how long its going to be until they open that little frozen custard stand down the road."
good lord i am a fat kid.
okay, back up. before i get into all THAT, i have to discuss some facts:
1. i am from the midwest. eighteen years of my life. we're talking working class town, cheap beers, watching football on a small TV with a continually snowy reception (no pun intended), getting excited for spring ('winters not over 'til may 15!' was a saying of my parents, apparently referring to the blizzard of '92 or something), the smell of bacon in the afternoon, meat-packing plants, having your cousins live next door, eating lutefisk and sauerkraut and bratwurst and best of all: FROZEN CUSTARD*.
2. there is a frozen custard stand opening up on 13/14th & pike. soon. (!!!!!!)
3. you can't imagine how excited i am.
anyways. i spent the last two days telling everyone i could about the frozen custard stand. best news of my week. in fact, my life isn't that exciting as of late. i mean, besides working a McCatering event on wednesday, a visit to el doctor on thursday (where i kept on my coat, boots and clutched my purse in hopes that i could convince myself that the number on the scale was mostly my baggage and not my newly acquired chub), working behind the bar at A.R.J. on friday and a wee bit o' excess drinking to start off the weekend last night. not much. so i think it is safe to say that frozen custard is the best news of my life right now.
so, last night, in a moment of (ew i was about to write passion but that sounds sorta creepy/romantic) drunken bedroom revelry (all i could think of), when barista boy grabs my face and holds my hand and mumbles a bunch of things to me (all the while i am attempting to make him stop talking by kissing him) and i just keep saying "what? what are you saying? what's that?" like some sort of 80-year-old grandma, he suddenly blurts out,
(oh gawd)
"i really, really like you."
and then there's that moment of silence where i am supposed to blush, hug his neck, giggle and repeat it back to him, but i just stare up at him drunkenly with my mouth half open.
he strokes my hair and whispers "what are you thinking? what is on your mind at this very second?"
and that's it. i am still thinking about frozen custard. no joke. i was wondering if the new stand would have a flavor of the day, and if i could acquire a calender of flavors-of-the-day, to know what days it would be worth it to haul my fat ass three blocks down the road.
and that's when i blurt out,
(why)
"frozen custard!"
appendix!
*frozen custard is delicious. it is sort of like ice cream, but with eggs added to the cream and sugar part of the ice cream. and the machine that makes it produces less air bubbles or ice crystals or something, so its dense and rich and creamy. it is a wisconsin specialty. also, it is life-changing. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frozen_custard
good lord i am a fat kid.
okay, back up. before i get into all THAT, i have to discuss some facts:
1. i am from the midwest. eighteen years of my life. we're talking working class town, cheap beers, watching football on a small TV with a continually snowy reception (no pun intended), getting excited for spring ('winters not over 'til may 15!' was a saying of my parents, apparently referring to the blizzard of '92 or something), the smell of bacon in the afternoon, meat-packing plants, having your cousins live next door, eating lutefisk and sauerkraut and bratwurst and best of all: FROZEN CUSTARD*.
2. there is a frozen custard stand opening up on 13/14th & pike. soon. (!!!!!!)
3. you can't imagine how excited i am.
anyways. i spent the last two days telling everyone i could about the frozen custard stand. best news of my week. in fact, my life isn't that exciting as of late. i mean, besides working a McCatering event on wednesday, a visit to el doctor on thursday (where i kept on my coat, boots and clutched my purse in hopes that i could convince myself that the number on the scale was mostly my baggage and not my newly acquired chub), working behind the bar at A.R.J. on friday and a wee bit o' excess drinking to start off the weekend last night. not much. so i think it is safe to say that frozen custard is the best news of my life right now.
so, last night, in a moment of (ew i was about to write passion but that sounds sorta creepy/romantic) drunken bedroom revelry (all i could think of), when barista boy grabs my face and holds my hand and mumbles a bunch of things to me (all the while i am attempting to make him stop talking by kissing him) and i just keep saying "what? what are you saying? what's that?" like some sort of 80-year-old grandma, he suddenly blurts out,
(oh gawd)
"i really, really like you."
and then there's that moment of silence where i am supposed to blush, hug his neck, giggle and repeat it back to him, but i just stare up at him drunkenly with my mouth half open.
he strokes my hair and whispers "what are you thinking? what is on your mind at this very second?"
and that's it. i am still thinking about frozen custard. no joke. i was wondering if the new stand would have a flavor of the day, and if i could acquire a calender of flavors-of-the-day, to know what days it would be worth it to haul my fat ass three blocks down the road.
and that's when i blurt out,
(why)
"frozen custard!"
appendix!
*frozen custard is delicious. it is sort of like ice cream, but with eggs added to the cream and sugar part of the ice cream. and the machine that makes it produces less air bubbles or ice crystals or something, so its dense and rich and creamy. it is a wisconsin specialty. also, it is life-changing. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frozen_custard
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
one sugar-coated fat tuesday
let's get one fact out of the way. the highlight of mardi gras 2009, for me, was a stack of three (3) fluffy buttermilk pancakes, served to me free of charge at the international house of pancakes.
mardi gras / fat tuesday started off something like this. i was dreaming that McFlannel had asked me to go to another show (yes, okay, sometimes my dreams are a bit ninth-grade-esque) and i felt bad, but went anyways, subsequently abandoning barista boy (who in my dreams was continually holding a portafilter, oddly). i think i might have even sleep-mumbled "i would love to, ----!" after which i was shaken out of my dream by said barista boy, who laughed and asked who i was talking to. back to reality.
i half sat up in bed. the rain streaming down the windows, the large room full of records and posters, a pile of shoes and socks and undies on the floor. i look down and see myself entangled, once again, with barista boy in his creaky old home.
after a few hours of cuddling, going back to sleep, waking up, making out, cuddling ... (you know. rinse n' repeat.) i finally detangle myself from his sheets and start getting dressed. he hangs over the side of the bed, watching me try to find my bra. i am grumpy, not wanting to travel all the way to redmond that afternoon for my McCatering job. it is pouring buckets, i have to go all the way back to capitol hill to get my uniform, and i am hungover. barista boy hands me my undergarments (a highly embarrassing faded orange bra with a pink bow in the middle, compliments of my high school taste in lingerie and current lack of clean laundry) and listens to me grumble. he has a far-away, sad look on his face. sometimes he gets like this.
it bothers me. it bothers me that there is so much about him i don't know. we never, ever talk about the ex-girlfriend. i think he may have tried to bring it up once or twice but i switch the subject. it just feels weird, like someone you're dating showing you their dead wife's clothes. that stuff should be kept in a locked closet.
but then again, we are NOT dating. and it was so recent. and he can't detach himself from that past. the half unpacked boxes all over his new room, the photos all over myspace. his weird bed sheets (side note. while having a drink at linda's with my friends ian and dennis a few weeks back, i confided in them about a pressing issue in my mind. i tried to choose my words carefully, but they all rushed out at once. "should i be concerned if ...he has little mermaid sheets?" a second of silence, then ian and dennis were pounding the table and laughing. they never let that one go). anyways, the weird bed sheets, apparently "inherited from his ex-girlfriend." and now, at this moment, barista boy was staring up at a funny amateur acrylic painting on his bookshelf. it was of a small, square-jawed girl with intense black-lined eyes, grabbing the hand of a tall, lanky boy wearing a red sweatshirt. the old couple. a piece of art. and he still had it.
i pretended not to notice and got my shoes on. barista boy, suddenly snapped out of his trip down memory lane, grabbed my hand. let's make coffee before you leave, he whispers, kissing my neck. i sigh, smile, and agree. what the hell, let's pretend for five minutes.
on the bus back to my house a while later, i get a phone call from McCatering, inc. the secretary informs me that the event has been canceled for the day and i do NOT need to haul my ass all the way out to redmond! i secretly cheer, even though it means i don't get paid. but, in a moment of clouds-parting-and-rainbows-and-sun-and-maybe-a-unicorn-or-two, she informs me that events canceled day-of mean that i will be paid for a minimum of five hours. for doing nothing. hot damn!
i get back to my house and my roommates are sitting around in the living room. they ignore my bus ride of shame look (same clothes, unbrushed teeth, eyeliner all over my face) and immediately shout out good news number two of the day: it is free pancake day at international house of pancakes.
at this news the clouds LITERALLY parted, the sun appeared and dried up all the nasty rain puddles all over capitol hill. in two minutes we were sitting out on the front steps, soaking up vitamin D and unzipping our american apparel hoodies. my house walked as a collective over to the junkie-ridden IHOP 3 blocks away and prepared to wait half an hour for a stack of free pancakes. it was so, so worth it. i poured four different kinds of syrup on mine. best day of my life.
the rest of the day was a lovely haze of recovering from 3000 calories of pure glucose, watching bottle rocket with my roomies all crowded comfortably on the couch and making vague plans for getting off said couch. around six, frey came over and she and i decided to hit up liberty for happy hour, some former roommate girl talk time and to visit her McCrush of the moment. mostly successful, but we did end up with a bitchy little server who tried to correct me when i ordered a 'french 76' (its made with vodka instead of gin, and that is its proper name. i know, i work behind a bar) andddd micah tagged along. i love my roommate micah to death, but he is sort of the little brother i never had and never really wanted. you know. he sat in between us two ladies whining about his weekend and work, while downing three mexican cervezas. in the end he didnt have any cash so we ended up paying his tab. whatever.
afterwards, i parted ways with my friends and headed over to THE coffee shop to see if i could score some espresso and a little breaktime fun. barista boy closes on tuesdays, so i knew i would catch him. i was right. he was in the back room, eating a gyro when i showed up (a little boozy, too). he was surprised to see me but we talked for a bit while i stared at the printer (what did that printer spit out the night we tore up the back room like it was part of the set of "zack and miri"?). and then i realized something. we are awkward. i knew it before, but it never bugged me that much. my mind suddenly jumped back to a conversation i had with McFlannel the night we got drinks before the show. we were sitting in this intimate corner of the cha cha, deep in conversation about our families, about death, about life. we connected on every single level. it was nuts. i had no reservations. and now, barista boy and i stood around awkwardly, trying to make conversation about some article in the stranger. i sighed. barista boy looked around and saw his buddy walk into the coffee shop. "oh! its ----! i'll be right back, ok?" and kissed my cheek swiftly before running off to spend the rest of his break laughing heartily with his friend.
is this it? is this going to fizzle out, like every other one of my boy situations in the past two years? another pin on the map of capitol hill and my ridiculous history of unintentionally hitting up each and every business, from one end of broadway to the other. seriously, this needs to stop.
mardi gras / fat tuesday started off something like this. i was dreaming that McFlannel had asked me to go to another show (yes, okay, sometimes my dreams are a bit ninth-grade-esque) and i felt bad, but went anyways, subsequently abandoning barista boy (who in my dreams was continually holding a portafilter, oddly). i think i might have even sleep-mumbled "i would love to, ----!" after which i was shaken out of my dream by said barista boy, who laughed and asked who i was talking to. back to reality.
i half sat up in bed. the rain streaming down the windows, the large room full of records and posters, a pile of shoes and socks and undies on the floor. i look down and see myself entangled, once again, with barista boy in his creaky old home.
after a few hours of cuddling, going back to sleep, waking up, making out, cuddling ... (you know. rinse n' repeat.) i finally detangle myself from his sheets and start getting dressed. he hangs over the side of the bed, watching me try to find my bra. i am grumpy, not wanting to travel all the way to redmond that afternoon for my McCatering job. it is pouring buckets, i have to go all the way back to capitol hill to get my uniform, and i am hungover. barista boy hands me my undergarments (a highly embarrassing faded orange bra with a pink bow in the middle, compliments of my high school taste in lingerie and current lack of clean laundry) and listens to me grumble. he has a far-away, sad look on his face. sometimes he gets like this.
it bothers me. it bothers me that there is so much about him i don't know. we never, ever talk about the ex-girlfriend. i think he may have tried to bring it up once or twice but i switch the subject. it just feels weird, like someone you're dating showing you their dead wife's clothes. that stuff should be kept in a locked closet.
but then again, we are NOT dating. and it was so recent. and he can't detach himself from that past. the half unpacked boxes all over his new room, the photos all over myspace. his weird bed sheets (side note. while having a drink at linda's with my friends ian and dennis a few weeks back, i confided in them about a pressing issue in my mind. i tried to choose my words carefully, but they all rushed out at once. "should i be concerned if ...he has little mermaid sheets?" a second of silence, then ian and dennis were pounding the table and laughing. they never let that one go). anyways, the weird bed sheets, apparently "inherited from his ex-girlfriend." and now, at this moment, barista boy was staring up at a funny amateur acrylic painting on his bookshelf. it was of a small, square-jawed girl with intense black-lined eyes, grabbing the hand of a tall, lanky boy wearing a red sweatshirt. the old couple. a piece of art. and he still had it.
i pretended not to notice and got my shoes on. barista boy, suddenly snapped out of his trip down memory lane, grabbed my hand. let's make coffee before you leave, he whispers, kissing my neck. i sigh, smile, and agree. what the hell, let's pretend for five minutes.
on the bus back to my house a while later, i get a phone call from McCatering, inc. the secretary informs me that the event has been canceled for the day and i do NOT need to haul my ass all the way out to redmond! i secretly cheer, even though it means i don't get paid. but, in a moment of clouds-parting-and-rainbows-and-sun-and-maybe-a-unicorn-or-two, she informs me that events canceled day-of mean that i will be paid for a minimum of five hours. for doing nothing. hot damn!
i get back to my house and my roommates are sitting around in the living room. they ignore my bus ride of shame look (same clothes, unbrushed teeth, eyeliner all over my face) and immediately shout out good news number two of the day: it is free pancake day at international house of pancakes.
at this news the clouds LITERALLY parted, the sun appeared and dried up all the nasty rain puddles all over capitol hill. in two minutes we were sitting out on the front steps, soaking up vitamin D and unzipping our american apparel hoodies. my house walked as a collective over to the junkie-ridden IHOP 3 blocks away and prepared to wait half an hour for a stack of free pancakes. it was so, so worth it. i poured four different kinds of syrup on mine. best day of my life.
the rest of the day was a lovely haze of recovering from 3000 calories of pure glucose, watching bottle rocket with my roomies all crowded comfortably on the couch and making vague plans for getting off said couch. around six, frey came over and she and i decided to hit up liberty for happy hour, some former roommate girl talk time and to visit her McCrush of the moment. mostly successful, but we did end up with a bitchy little server who tried to correct me when i ordered a 'french 76' (its made with vodka instead of gin, and that is its proper name. i know, i work behind a bar) andddd micah tagged along. i love my roommate micah to death, but he is sort of the little brother i never had and never really wanted. you know. he sat in between us two ladies whining about his weekend and work, while downing three mexican cervezas. in the end he didnt have any cash so we ended up paying his tab. whatever.
afterwards, i parted ways with my friends and headed over to THE coffee shop to see if i could score some espresso and a little breaktime fun. barista boy closes on tuesdays, so i knew i would catch him. i was right. he was in the back room, eating a gyro when i showed up (a little boozy, too). he was surprised to see me but we talked for a bit while i stared at the printer (what did that printer spit out the night we tore up the back room like it was part of the set of "zack and miri"?). and then i realized something. we are awkward. i knew it before, but it never bugged me that much. my mind suddenly jumped back to a conversation i had with McFlannel the night we got drinks before the show. we were sitting in this intimate corner of the cha cha, deep in conversation about our families, about death, about life. we connected on every single level. it was nuts. i had no reservations. and now, barista boy and i stood around awkwardly, trying to make conversation about some article in the stranger. i sighed. barista boy looked around and saw his buddy walk into the coffee shop. "oh! its ----! i'll be right back, ok?" and kissed my cheek swiftly before running off to spend the rest of his break laughing heartily with his friend.
is this it? is this going to fizzle out, like every other one of my boy situations in the past two years? another pin on the map of capitol hill and my ridiculous history of unintentionally hitting up each and every business, from one end of broadway to the other. seriously, this needs to stop.
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