Week 3, Thing 5

Don't blame the ewoks
Originally uploaded by marker (mark®)

For reasons not too hard to decipher, I decided to search "unemployment" on flickr and came up with this. I dig it. Earlier attempts to complete this "thing" have completely failed, so hopefully this will work before my MCPL time runs out!

Week 3, Thing 5

Love notes for Juliet
Originally uploaded by Torve

Having a new baby, and family spread all over, I have become pretty familiar with Flickr over the past few months. However, I had never before searched through for images other than my own or my sister's.

I promise I did not search only my daughter's name, but unsurprisingly (at least to me) the most interesting photo I found came from that search. This shot of a wall in Verona, purported to be THE Juliet's home, is of hundreds of love notes stuck up with chewing gum.

While the gum part squicks me out some, I just love the idea of this wall and knowing that something like this exists in the world is a bright spot amidst the past grim days.

Week 3, Thing 5

Love notes for Juliet
Originally uploaded by Torve

Having a new baby, and family spread all over, I have become pretty familiar with Flickr over the past few months. However, I had never before searched through for images other than my own or my sister's.

I promise I did not search only my daughter's name, but unsurprisingly (at least to me) the most interesting photo I found came from that search. This shot of a wall in Verona, purported to be THE Juliet's home, is of hundreds of love notes stuck up with chewing gum.

While the gum part squicks me out some, I just love the idea of this wall and knowing that something like this exists in the world is a bright spot amidst the past grim days.

Speaking of Crying

Never Get Married

That’s not true, of course you should get married. You should especially get married if you can marry someone like D’oh who is the only person who talks you out of your nonstop cryfest that you have to fake sick at work and go home to control. Just, if you do get married? Don’t have my day that I had today, because it will make you crawl under the covers and/or stare into space between fits of crying. And it is hot today. And I haven’t turned on the air conditioning. And I hate to be hot. A lot. So, sad crying + under covers= laugh/crying over how ridiculous you are with a remainder of migraine beginnings.

As you can probably tell, today was super-awesome!!

To begin, when you decide (because your Mom makes you…just kidding!) to get married in the Catholic Church, you know there are some marriage preparation hoops/hurdles/unnecessary ridiculous craptacularocities to contend with. What you are not aware right off the bat, though? Is how impossible it is to get someone to tell you what those things are and how to go about completing them.

D’oh and I got engaged last July. I couldn’t get an answer about marriage preparation from either the church I “attend” or the church at the beach where we are getting married until February. I called everyone. And then I called them again. And then I called them one more time. And then my Mom called and my sister called and what each and every one of us was told was, “It’s so far away, don’t worry about it.” Finally, I was told, “Take this class and you’re good.” Fine.

Class taken. It was very painless except for one moment in the class about “marital relations” where I thought the woman was about to seriously over-share about the best night of “relations” her and her husband ever had. Ew.

Fast forward to today, only take time to notice that in the last few weeks, my car has been purposely keyed by some little bastards at work, D’oh and I have become first-time homeowners of a supercute house (that really needs to be painted and oh my god why is paint so hard to pick!) and I am feeling very unready to be one, some old lady is calling downtown to complain about how unhelpful I am because I will not let her do eleventy things I’ve told her eleventy times I am not allowed to let her do, my wisdom teeth are coming through with claws attached, I think my left hip is slightly out of joint, a ginormous zit has appeared twice now on the side of my nose, I can’t sleep no matter how much alcohol I do/do not drink, I’ve found out my sister is moving to Missouri, and my apartment is disgusting.

Are you caught up? Good. Because today is the day I find out that I am a horrible person who has all this marriage paperwork to do and it says right here in your file, missy, that you were going to do all this paperwork in DC and you haven’t done it and it should have been done by now and the priest has no time for you and there is a Note in your File saying that Father Tom (who? he isn’t the priest marrying us and I’ve never heard his name before EVER I PROMISE!!!!) called you on September 5th and you never called him back and you can never get married and by the way you are stupid and I don’t like your haircut!

Cue Cryfest 2007.

I cannot get ahold of myself and I am baffled at the meanness of this woman who totally hears that I am crying on the phone with her and does NOT CARE and who I have spoken to at least twice before and nobody freaking mentioned this to me and oh my god I’m crying again as I write this, this is so ridiculous!!!

Anyway, I cry cry cry, fake sick, go home, cry some more, call my sister, cry some more, call D’oh, cry some more, pretend to nap, cry some more, finally start to clean my apartment (Shannon, you were right, throwing things away does make you feel better…but not that much), cry some more, decide the one Oprah I have a shot at watching this season will not help with the not crying as it is about some woman whose husband made her children videotape his beatings of her, and stare into space.

Finally, mean church lady calls me back and is still completely scoldful when she tells me that the priest can squeeze me in only if I am at Mass at the beach at 11:30 on June 3rd and D’oh and I can fill out my paperwork while he (the priest, not D’oh) does a baptism. Which is fine, only it ruins my bachelorette party that was supposed to be here in DC the night before so my sisters could escape their stinking kids for once and my friend from Puerto Rico could attend.

And can I just say that I have not even met this priest who is marrying us? Not even one time! And every time EVERY TIME I called there to meet up with him I was blown off in the most ridiculous way, like, “Bitch, you don’t need to meet no damn priest, he ain’t got no time for you anyway!”

But, hope is on the horizon because D’oh who was very matter of fact and helpful when the cryfest started at work is on his way over to cheer me up, right? Um, no. At last contact, D’oh was headed back home after his car overheated and almost blew the heck up on the side of the road because it is possibly about to die.

So, even if it isn’t helping me sleep, I’m off to find the alcohol. At least tomorrow I will be puffy and hungover and that sounds more appealing than how I’ve felt for even one minute of this afternoon. Later.

Crying Coming and Going

This weekend I attended my cousin's quite lovely wedding at which I internally mocked him and most of his immediate family for being a bunch of cryers. Sniffly, damp-eyed, choked up cry-boys. I am a cryer, I know, but I chose to ignore this fact and mock with wild abandon through the whole weekend.

So, karma.

This morning I had a very long, very vivid dream about D'oh being dead. He didn't die in the dream, it picked up after he had died and I had apparently moved back to the beach with my parents and gone back to my old retail job. But apparently I had done so like 5 minutes after he died, because it was all I and anyone around me was talking about...while I was letting people into dressing rooms with no more than five garments/three if they were swimsuits. Anyway, his death was not well investigated obviously, because it ended with some girl saying she was going to ask the police to make REALLY sure that it was D'oh who was dead and not somebody else.

Strange dream, to say the least, and it also made me cry cry cry as I was waking up this morning.

And then tonight, my well documented favorite show, Run's House, returned with the episode I've been wondering if they would do, about their baby daughter who died at birth, and it also made me cry cry cry because it was so sad and so awesome at the same time.

So now I will rest, and tomorrow, because of my stinking Irish genes, and a vengeful dose of karma, my face will be full of puff and red.

After the wedding, D'oh and I purchased a plant for his mother that I don't think we were charged for, yet we didn't take it back. Stay tuned tomorrow for the story of how I will probably have gotten mugged. Thanks a lot, karma! Keep it up, and I'll stop watching My Name is Earl.

No, I won't. I love it. And karma, that sneaky trickster, totally knows it.

The Greatest Show on Earth? Really?

Ask, and you shall receive, Shannon.

Once again, and probably for the last time, my sister and three nutjobs (plus six stuffed dogs, one of whom is a snake) arrived on my doorstep for the second annual circus/zoo/lunch in a restaurant/drinking too much by the adults weekend that has come, for me, to symbolize the beginning of spring. You have baseball, Shannon and I have liters of wine.

As usual, this weekend was peppered with some strange behavior on the part of her kiddies. While in every other location they may be cute, funny, and most importantly, compliant little things, once they enter my apartment door, they seem to overdose on some sort of punk pill. I can’t blame Marty too much for his inability to stop stomping his feet since we, as a family, usually applaud and encourage his twenty minute stomp and dance routines. But the girls’ strange obsession with the cup of change/Wedding Postage Fund that sits next to my television was almost the undoing of myself and their mother.

Part of this is my fault, since every other time they came over I had change sitting on every blank surface. But last weekend, all of the pennies, etc., had been firmly ensconced in a giant plastic cup. Which was seized by all kiddies for the sole purpose of dropping each coin one by one onto the hardwood floors so that everyone in my apartment and the one below me wanted to poke a variety of sharp instruments into their eardrums so that they would never have to hear that sound again. Then they covered a mirror with them. Then they were just taking out fistfuls for no reason. Then they wanted to weigh the cup of change. And then, my head popped off. Next time the nutjobs are in town though, D’oh and I will be in our house, I hope, and they can throw change left and right, up and down, east and west, you know, in a lot of directions, because it will be our house and no one will be living downstairs…unless we rent it out, because we’re broke.

Anyhoo, punkish though they are, I really was sad to leave the little buggers when I had to leave the zoo and head to work on Sunday. Part of me may have been afraid though, that Shannon might do away with them if Lauren’s attitude did not shift dramatically, and then I would have no one to drink with once next spring came around.

What we are actually here to talk about today, though, is the circus. The whole reason the nutjobs were in town was to see this allegedly entertaining show. Unfortunately, what we saw was equivalent in entertainment value to that show where they are trying to find the new Sandy and Danny for Grease. D’oh made the fatal mistake of claiming to want to see that once, so I checked it out for fresh mocking material. It made my brain bleed. Billy Bush, who I believe I have mentioned before is dumber than your average hammer, is in charge there. I have to tell you that because if you just watch it, you won’t be able to recognize him underneath the eleventy layers of makeup he is sporting. And he is the only man in America whose lips are currently a lighter shade than the rest of his face…I hope. (Actually, I can think of one more, check the last paragraph.)

What I have subsequently learned about the circus is that there are actually three of them, Red (which we saw last year and very much enjoyed), Gold (which we’ll probably get stuck with next year), and Blue (which I wish I had not seen this year.) The Blue circus is called the Circus of Dreams in which a “family” is pulled from the audience and given the chance to live out their “dreams” by joining the circus right then and there in front of your very own eyes. Yes, that’s right folks, Dan, a young boy of indeterminate Asian descent, will be forced to choose what he wants to do FOREVER right here in front of you, thousands of strangers. His mom, sister, and father, of course know what they want to do right off the bat so they…abandon him and then he is immediately attacked by a giant dragon. Hmm. Initially, what Dan wants to do is beat a drum and look bored. And lip synch…badly. The circus web site claims that the Dans and company (yes multiple, we’ll get to that) do not speak English, but they have learned to lip synch. A useful skill in this country, to be sure. Although I do appreciate the circus being forthcoming about this and not setting us up for a Milli Vanilli-scale disappointment, no, they have not learned to lip synch. Neither has Dan’s “mom” or his “sister.” (Angelina Jolie aside, there is no way that a paunchy, washed up Broadway actor, a borderline little-person Russian acrobat, an obnoxious, (no matter where she’s from) teenage dancer, and Dan make up a plausible family.)

Spoiler alert: It turns out what Dan wants to be is one of those people who get flipped around by other people’s feet. He learns this after taking part in a human video game? Or something. I was lost long before then.

My first (although I guess I have snuck a few in here already) complaint about this spectacle is that the performers were so incredibly bored that they were not even phoning it in, they were tapping it in, in a very slow, morose, Morse code. One clown (an actual one...heh) just stood still throughout the whole opening number. Now, I am the first to be irritated by overly chirpy children’s performers, but if what you do for a living is entertain children? Especially children in my family? Be chirpy or go home.

My second complaint is that there hardly were any performers in the circus. A good chunk of the time was spent watching video screens where we got to see a behind the scenes shot of circus performers teaching Dan how to cheat at poker. This is where I first caught on to the multiple Dans as the kid in the video looked so little like the one on stage it was almost offensive. Just because they’re both Asian, Mr. Ringling, doesn’t mean that I’m not onto you.

I say it was almost offensive because what was actually offensive was the other thing we had to watch on the screen, that being the “sassy” elephants. I’m not sure why, but for some reason, the elephants all spoke like Mary did on 227 when Lester was acting a fool. Only the elephants made no sense. It went a little something like this.

Sassy Elephant #1: “The humans think they’re in charge around here, but we know who’s really in charge, don’t we girls?”

Baby Elephant: [Insert long, rambly, obvious elephant fact here. Something like, “We eat lots and are big. Humans eat less and are smaller”]

Sassy Elephant #2: Mmmm-hmmmmm, let’s spray the clowns with water

Or something like that.

In conclusion, the circus was not that good and it didn’t make any sense and they relied far too heavily on the horsey boys who rode their horses through fire (Mean!) to keep everyone interested. There was a bunch of motorcycles in a ball but really all that is is loud.

But, the kiddies seemed to enjoy it and the truth is, if there hadn’t been a hockey game later requiring the Verizon Center to be a balmy one degree, and if Shannon and I hadn't, very unwisely, opened the second giant bottle of wine the night before, I probably would have enjoyed it more myself. And it is always fun to have Shannon and her kids around, partly because when we are together we run into things we probably would not notice if we were not together. Once, it was a little boy practicing his tin whistle on the porch. The day of the circus it was an irritated albino riding a Segway up and down the street for no apparent reason. What more can you ask for?

edited to add: A commercial for the circus just came on while I was posting this, and about half the things in the commercial were not in our show. However, the announcer made a point when he said, "You have never seen anything like the Circus of Dreams. And I hadn't. Now I have. Eh.

Technically? It's Thirty-Six, People, Thirty-Six, 'Kay?

Lucky for you all I had nothing to do tonight because it just took my computer a month and a half to switch to the new blogger/google combo and I was inches away from chucking you all straight out my window. Now what we're doing today, kids, is killing some birds with some stones. Not literally, of course, that will get us thrown in the clink right quick. But figuratively, here tonight, through the magic of my crappy computer, I will simultaneously catch up on my email, and my blog. I know. It's super interesting AND also not boring. Except it might be. No promises.

ANYWAY

Earlier this week I got the email I'm sure you've all gotten entitled, 4 Things About Me and You. I get these survey things fairly regularly and I like them. I liked this one because it pretended (see title of this post) it was short, and sometimes 32 questions is just too many to be answering about myself. Then, I realized that I was mentioned by some, and defended by NONE, as someone who was unlikely to respond to that email because I am too busy. Which I am, but being me I instantly decided that of course I would respond, I always answer my email what do you mean no I don't just because I never do doesn't mean that I never do. I know, it's a fun little place inside my head. Then to add a non-injury to a non-insult, my non-blogging sister listed my blog as one she reads every day and then slammed me for never updating! Can you believe it? It's only been like, months, no? The result of this maelstrom of non-insults and non-injuries and non-blogging siblings has resulted in this post. As it is created out of guilt, I lay no claim to its quality. You only have yourself to blame, Carroll, if it sucks.

4 Things About Me and You

A. Four jobs I have had

• Nanny (because I cannot escape children, they are everywhere I go and they flock to me, it's a little unsettling. My sister used to refer to me as a baby whisperer, and I don't think she was too far off.)
• Sales clerk at a store in a resort town (I've discussed this at length somewhere in here, but I can't stress enough how miserable vacation people are. Stay home, I'll like you better that way)
• Children's Librarian (ongoing...)
• Abstractor/Indexer (you might think that sounds boring, but wait until you are stuck abstracting policy papers in a single office with someone you HAAAAAATTTTTTTEE!!!! Because, wow, that makes you want to invest in a hot poker for your own eyeball.)

B. Four movies I would watch over and over (I feel a little unqualified to answer this one as I just today finished watching a Netflix movie I've had since November. Yes, I am how they make their money.)

• Bridget Jones' Diary (because if you don't love that part where he wraps her up in his coat at the end, I can't be friends with you. I can, but I will totally talk smack about you behind your back because you are an unfeeling and cold individual. Kisses!)
• Any and all movies starring any and all Muppets characters. (Muppets, not Sesame Street, I appreciate what their purpose is, but all of the residents of that street seem to have some sort of personality disorder as well as abandonment issues. Big Bird, I'm looking at you.)
• A Christmas Story (For real? You don't know why? You're dead to me.)
• Sixteen Candles (Birthday cake? Table? Candles? Love.)

C. Four places I have lived (Hopefully in a few months there will be a new one to add to the mix. D'oh and I done bought a house...almost.)

• Washington, DC (Within and without shouting distance of the wild animals that take up a heck of a lot of room.)
• Wilmington, DE, Ardmore, PA, and Washington, DC, simultaneously. (I refer to this as my squatter period.)
• Bethany Beach, DE (I refer to this as my leech period.)
• Poughkeepsie, NY ( I refer to this as the time I escaped with my life as it turned out there was a serial killer on the next block. That was the best time of my life to not be a hooker.)

D. Four TV shows I love to watch (Four might be a stretch, I'm sort of mad at TV since it ruined Top Chef)

• The Amazing Race (although if Oswald and Danny don't make it to the end of this season, I don't know that I will, either.)
• Project Runway (don't you? DON'T YOU??)
• House Hunters (see C above)
• What Not to Wear (I am anticipating a return to obsessive viewing of this show now that the sound has mysteriously returned, after mysteriously disappearing, from TLC.)

E. Four places I have been on vacation

• Bethany Beach, DE (it's not leeching, when it's vacation, right?)
• Ocean City, NJ (I never could get myself to go through the haunted house, maybe someday...probably not)
• Nassau, Bahamas (there was a smidge less national attention on that area at that time)
• Wellesley, MA (a very fun, but very cold and froggy pool can be found here)

F. Websites I visit regularly

• Perez Hilton (don't judge me)
• Tell it to Coachie (I like to see how my own family is ripping me off every once in a while. HAHAHAHA)
• The Entropy Three (she may be a thief but she's got cute kids)
• Television Without Pity (because watching isn't enough)

G. Four of My Favorite Foods

• Goat Cheese and Poblano Burger (you can find them here, and oh my god you should)
• Any combination of potato and cheese (except au gratin, I just don't get it. Do you like it? Really?)
• Dark chocolate (milk chocolate doesn't taste right. You won't convince me. And, please don't mix any chocolate with orange flavor because I will puke right now, I swear to god)
• Spice Rubbed Chicken and Vegetable Tacos with Cilantro Slaw and Chipotle Sour Cream (Make it today! Tell your friends! Tell mine, maybe they'll make it for me!)

H. Four people I think will respond

• Shannon and/or Carroll may leave a comment, but that will be all
• ----
• ----
• ----

I. Four favorite beverages

• Margaritas
• Water, but without ice (haven't you had that glass that's all ice and no water and it keeps knocking against your teeth? And still with the ice? Don't even talk to me about water with lemon, or seltzer (sorry Mom and Shannon and Kate) Plain water is the only way)
• Champagne (I like bubbles...and that it makes me a very happy, but slurrrrrry, drunk)
• Coke (If I'm so hungover that I want to die, and I tell you that I want to drink something other than that, punch me in the face, because I am a liar)

So, there we have it, Thirty-Six things masquerading as 4 things about me. See you in a few months.

Fine, Here it Is! or How I Spent My Winter Vacation or Meddy Kreestmas, I Vant to Suck Your Blood!!!!!!!

To say the least, the holidays were exhausting. In a good way, though, with lots of merriment and merrymaking, aside from a slight cheesecake power struggle that erupted between me and my mom, but was swiftly squashed by a realization that the wrong cheesecake had been made and the throwdown was called off. If you’re related to me, you know what I’m talking about. If you’re not, you are probably not reading this, anyway.

So, knowing in advance that the holidays would be doubly crazy and time consuming what with the addition of D’oh and his family’s traditions I decided to tackle the most work-intensive part of the holidays, gift giving, with an uncharacteristic good attitude. This shouldn’t have been too difficult because who loves giving gifts more than me? Answer: No one.

The good attitude was specific in nature, however. I knew that one wrong encounter with a surly salesperson would send me tipping right back over to RageTown, USA (It’s in Texas) so I decided that I would win them over. The salespeople would love me, because I would force them to. After all, I come from their ranks.

As recently as way too recently for someone my age, I worked retail in a resort town. What I learned in that job, is that people who have lots of money and go on vacation are evil and bad and should be paid a visit by Children’s Services. I’m not kidding. There is no person more miserable than the 50 something dad of a 5 year old being forced to spend time with their family in such a concentrated time and space. They hate their families a little, is what I’m saying. But! They have to keep that to themselves, that hate, so they feel free to share it with whoever else crosses their path, especially those who are younger and poorer than they are. And if they are in a position to impact those people’s day for the worse? They will take it and tear right into it. It really is disturbing how cruel grown people will be to people in the service industry, just because they can. But let’s not sail off on that tangent, there are vampires ahead in this story!

Anyway, one of those 50 year old men, I was determined not to be, so off I went to spread my Christmas cheer and much to my surprise, it freaking worked! People, as evidence of my success, listen to this! I won over the Grand Mama of Miserable Salespeople (a.k.a. the one lady working the returns counter at Toys ‘R Us one week before Christmas.) I had her wrapped around my finger by the time I got out of there, and she didn’t make me show my receipt. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to exchange anything there, but be it known that thou shalt render your blood in exchange for thy Tinker Toys iffeth you arriveth withouteth your receipteth. (That was weird, huh?)

I kept up my shiny attitude for many many shopping trips but then, as I should have known, I hit a roadblock. There are some people in my family, specifically some boys and boys-in-law that proved a little difficult to shop for. Now, I KNOW that I don’t have to give everyone the perfect gift and some people tell me I don’t have to give them a gift at all. Which is fine and I get it, but that kind of hurts my feelings because I do not give gifts because I have to, I give them because I love to give the gifts! I love the be the giver of the Best. Gift. Ever! So just take your gifts and tell me how awesome they are, even if you return them, ‘kay?

Um, anyway.

The quest for the gifts for these people had sapped my good will and my regular, somewhat cranky attitude was starting to emerge when I finally, Finally, FINALLY stumbled across a kiosk in the mall (I know) that sold these prints of all these places around DC that you would only recognize if you really lived here. At last! Perfect. Gift. FOUND!!! My good attitude was on the verge of returning, when I heard.

“You like to be looking at zee peectures?”

I turn around, come smack dab face to face with Vampire Lady #1

Me (still surprisingly friendly given that I am, you know, me): “I’m just looking”

VL#1: “ Ok, thees ees ze prices and thees ees the prices and over here, thees is the prices.”

Me: Ok, thank you.

VL#1: Oh, I deedn’t meeeen to boder you. I don’t want to be bodering you. I deedn’t meeeen to boder you.

Me (looking at D’oh with the exact expression you would have if you were a regularly rageful person who had just been perfectly nice to a vampire who in turn became completely offended): …

At this point Vampire Lady #1 wanders off a little and keeps muttering about how she didn’t mean to bother me which is fine except….WHAT?

I pick a print for a boy-in-law, pay the scary lady and scurry off, baffled to say the least and a little annoyed because my perfect record of salesperson kindness had almost been broken and who doesn’t like to achieve their goals? Not me, that’s who. (Does that make sense?)

However, because I am apparently the type of person who somehow always manages to prolong situations that annoy her to the point of insanity, I had to return to the mall for some last minute gifts, and I told myself that I would NOT leave the mall until all my shopping was done. Except then I couldn’t find anything so I unwillingly stopped back by the kiosk (I know) to give the prints another quick look. And, things were looking up because Vampire Lady #1 was not there. Except:

Vampire Lady #2: I see you bee looking at zee pictures for vedddy long time, no?

Me (Out. Of. Patience!): I’m just looking

Vampire Lady #2: Okaaaaaay, I just to be standing here staring at you until you are so uncomfortable you consider jumping over the railing to get away from me.

Me (Literally, two minutes later): Do you have another copy of this, there is some dirt on the mat.

Vampire Lady #2 (Drawing herself up to her full 4 foot 9 inch frame and giving a little, I don’t even know, shimmy?): You know what this is? This? This? This it is dirt. You know what else it is?

Me (to myself, I think): Kill me kill me kill me kill me

Vampire Lady #2: It is reeeeemmmovvvaaabbbllle.

Then the lady dusts it off, puts it back in the plastic wrap or whatever, puts the print behind her back and just stands there staring at me, obviously trying to hypnotize me with her eyes and creepy demeanor until I squeezed my blood into a sippy cup and gave it to her.

Many moments of silence pass. I have no idea what to do.

Me: So, can I buy it?

Vampire Lady#2: Oh, you want to buy it? I did not know because you are so….

And then she just stands there smirking at me. Never a good idea, my friends. Never.

Me (to myself, possibly): Do not kill her do not kill her do not kill her. Yes, she is insulting you in some strange Transylvanian way but this is the last gift, let’s make it through. Let’s dig in. Let’s dig deep. Let’s be a team player. Let’s remember our good attitude. Let’s remember how we won over the mean Toys R Us lady. Let’s…not expose our neck.

Unfortunate passerby to Vampire Lady #2: Do you know where the food court is?

Vampire Lady #2: You to go down and you to turn right.

And then she turned back to me while the girl is still standing there and says,

“You see how I am very abrupt with them, yes? I guess that is my way”

Me: What the…?

More awkward staring commences until she FINALLY tells me the price, takes my credit card, writes something down (not the price, some strange very long sentence) in her little notebook about me, and gives me a raised eyebrow as a goodbye after doing that thing where she keeps holding on to the bag after she hands it to me for just that extra second too long.

I have know idea what that whole experience was about, but it happened, and it was vaguely interesting enough to constitute a blog entry of some length so happy belated holidays. Fa la la la la and all that stuff and just be happy I posted, ‘kay?

I sort of promise to update more regularly with better written entries, but we both know I don’t mean it. Maybe that way I’ll actually do it…heh.