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Life is only what you wonder.

Friday, October 28, 2005

I'm Waiting . . .


On my worst days, I think that before you're allowed to eat out at a restaurant, you should be required to work at least one shift as a server in a restaurant.
Not as a cook, line attendant, cashier, or host/hostess, but as a server who has to put up with everyone's crap and doesn't get paid by the hour to do it.
And not in a fancy-shmantzy restaurant either. Someplace like Denny's or the White Coffee Pot or some Truck Stop Diner -- on the busiest most chaotic night of the week.

People either don't realize that we rely on the tips we make to pay our bills, or else the just don't care and some days it's all I can do not to go off on somebody.

    Like this:
Two ladies are seated in my section and I go over to introduce myself and take their drink order and they immediatly start out barking commands at me before I can get my name out.
So all through their meal I'm being super-attentive. There's nothing I didn't do for them. I even took the one woman's coffee and heated it in the microwave because she said it was too cold. (She puts four creamers in it and expects it to still be piping hot. I guess she didn't pay attention in science class.)
Why was I so attentive? Because I have dollar signs in my eyes, that's why. I don't do it because I'm such a sweet person. (I mean, I am, but that's not why I do it.)

Anyway, I treated these women like they were queens, OK? Then right before they left the one woman calls me over and says,
"I'm so sorry. You've been great, but we didn't bring enough to give you a tip. But next time we'll take care of you, I promise."
"Sure thing, you bitch."
OK, I didn't say the "bitch" part, but I thought it pretty hard.

Because it's all about graciousness.
Which is another way of saying keep your fat mouth shut and think before you speak.
Who knows? She might actually follow through and take care of me later.
I'm not going to hold my breath, but it could happen.

    And this:
Last Sunday three little old Church ladies in thier humongous hats and floral-print dresses were sitting in my section.
Nice ladies, very sweet, no trouble at all to wait on.
Anyhoo, right before they left one of them (the one with the biggest hat - I guess she was the leader of the pack) calls me over and says, "I'm sorry, but we have no money to leave a tip, we gave all our money to Jesus."
Of course, my first instinct was to say,
"Well, you should have gotten Jesus to wait on you then!"

But I didn't say it.
I didn't even think it for more than a minute or two, because at least they were nice.
Sometimes that makes all the difference.

On a related note, I saw the trailer for the movie Waiting.
I haven't seen it yet, but it's only a matter of time.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Catch Me (If You Can)

It's been awhile since I posted last. It's not because there hasn't been anything to wite about.
Au contraire, mon frere!
There's just been too much to do and not enough time.

So now it's time to play catch-up.
This is what happens when you procrastinate, folks!

I've decided that instead of one massive post, I would break my adventures up and post them retroctively.

(I call them RetroPosts©. If you want to use the term, you owe me twenty five cents.)

These RetroPosts© will make eveything easier to digest, and they also have the added benefit of making it appear (to the casual observer at least) that I haven't neglected this blog for a week and a half.

So, after typing my fingers to the bone for the past hour and a half trying desperately to make everything up to date, it's time for a nap.

Saturday, October 22, 2005

Happy Birthday To Me (Yet Again)

Yes, today is my birthday.
I've gotten some pretty good swag so far, but the best present of all is that my Mom came from NC to see me!
She arrived last night and will be leaving tomorrow morning.

I know it's only for a few days, but having her here is wonderful.

It was the first time that the husband and Mom were meeting each other and they were both kind of nervous.
Turns out they needn't have worried, they both got along famously!

I kind of worry about her living all alone out there.
I'm trying to convince her to move back here and stay in the spare room. The husband even told her she would be more than welcome here. She said she'd think about it, which is the only answer I could get from her. I guess I'll have to see what happens.

Not much planned for tonight except the husband, Mom, and me (I?) are going out to dinner someplace tonight.
I'm going to save the partying 'til after Mom goes back to North Carolina. I don't want her seeing her only son drunk and/or hung over. That wouldn't look very nice, would it?

So, yeah, I'm another year older.
It's not how old you are, it's how old you feel, and right now I feel like I'm 21!

Friday, October 21, 2005

This Sh*t Is Bananas!

I know the Gwen Stafani song "Hollaback Girl" is tired, worn out, and everyone's totally sick of it by now.
Well, I can't speak for everyone, but I know if I didn't hear it again for a year or so I would be totally OK with that.

Still, reading the in-depth analysis of the lyrics made me laugh 'til tears were streaming down my face.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

The Duty Deed

I had "Jury Duty" today.
What a total waste of a perfectly good day!

Do you know what my Jury Duty consisted of? Well, I am going to tell you.

Jimmy's Jury Duty

8:15 AM - I arrive at the courthouse and have my bag searched and walk through a metal detector. I am then directed to a "Jury waiting room" where I wait for further instructions.

8:45 AM - I watch a scintillating video that explains everyone's rights to a jury trial, a (thankfully brief) history of our legal system, and some propagandist pep-talk about how we should be proud and thankful to be a part of the jury selection process.
Oh, yeah. I woke up this morning and said "YAY! I have Jury duty today!"

9:15 AM - Jurors are being called by number for check in. I sit and wait patiently for my number to be called.

9:40 AM - They finally get to my number. I go downstairs and wait in a line. When I get to the little table the woman takes my jury summons and my ID, checks my name on the list and has me sign the line next to it. She gives the summons and my ID back and I am then directed to wait in another line.
When I get to the counter the woman verfies my address is correct, hands me a sticker that says "JUROR" that I'm supposed to wear and three five dollar bills. (I get paid $15 for my wasted day. I could have made that in one hour if I was working.)
I am then directed to go back upstairs and wait.

11:15 AM - I've read two chapters of the book I brought (Sphere, by Michael Chichton) and I'm working on the third.
They must sense we're getting antsy because they put on a movie for us to watch. "The Terminal" starring Tom Hanks and Catherine Zeta-Jones.

12:25 PM - Just as I was getting into the movie it cuts off and an announcement states that it's time for lunch. The announcer directs us to be back no later than 1:45PM. I don't know what happens if you're late. Maybe they throw you in Jury duty prison or something.

12:27 PM - I am in the lobby, headed for the door, cigarette already in my mouth and my lighter clutched in my paw. Give me that sweet delicious cancer!

1:43 PM - I spent my hour and 15 minutes of "my time" wisely. I gorged myself at Quizno's, called everyone in my phone book telling them what a waste of time Jury Duty was, loaded up on snack foods and soda (the vending machine in the jury room was pricier than at the airport. Eighty-five cents for a packet of cheese crackers!) Bought some gossip magazines ("Katie is pregnant! Is Tom the father?") and smoked about seven cigarettes. (Too bad you can't store nicotine in your body and time-release it when you need it. You could smoke a whole pack, one after another, in the morning and then you wouldn't have to light up all day. It doesn't work that way, though.)

1:45 PM - My bag is searched and I walk through the metal detector again. I go back upstairs to wait.

2:00 PM - They put "The Terminal" back on. Our eyes glaze over.

2:37 PM - The movie is finished, roll credits.
Not a bad movie. I would never have picked this at Blockbuster.

3:00 PM - An announcement is made that they need some jurors.
Everyone perks up. Maybe the day won't be a total waste after all.
They call numbers of people to go to another room for Jury Selection.
I am not one of them.
A dozen or so people shuffle out of the room, never to be seen or heard from again.
I crack open a magazine, pop the top on my soda and munch on some cheese crackers.

3:30 PM - In order to placate us they put on another movie. "Hitch" with Will Smith and Kevin James (from "The King of Queens").

4:20 PM - Just as the movie was getting interesting, it cuts off and an announcement tells us that Jury Duty is over. We're free!
I make a mental note to rent this movie the next time I'm at Blockbuster so I can see how it ends, put a cigarette in my mouth and dash for the exit.

That was my Jury duty, folks. Thank God they don't come around that often.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Get A Long Little Doggie

Actually, I got two long little doggies.
Well, counting Rico, I now have three long little doggies.

Wait, let me back up a bit.

G.'s sister just moved into a new apartment and she couldn't afford the "pet deposit" (which is equal to half her rent) so she asked if we would take care of her dachshund puppes Foxy and Coco (both boys) for a month or so until she can come up with the neccessary funds.

My first instinct was to say no. Rico is a handful by himself -- and he's trained. He knows to do his "business" outside, that he doesn't belong on the sofa, and that chewing electrical cords is a no-no.
These puppies have no training whatsoever. They're not even paper-trained.

Still, it was either with us, or in a kennel.
And as tough as I try to act I'm actually a big softie, so I said OK.

They arrived last night, and they're adorable!

I did observe something pretty strange, though.
I put Rico and "da boys" out in the back yard last night to they could run and romp and play and so they were out of my hair for a few minutes. When I went back to check on them, they were humping one another!
No shit! It was like an all-male dog-orgy on my back lawn.
Upon closer inspection I noticed they weren't actually "doing it", they were just going through the motions.
I guess just like men in prison who have no access to women, dogs will take whatever they can get!

Thursday, October 13, 2005

A Five Minute Story

Make It Last

It was just one of those things, you know?

I was sitiing at the bar, kind of feeling depressed because I had no man in my life, and I was drinking too much, which was only making it worse.
(Sorrows float in alcohol.)
And the damn Patsy Cline music someone played on the jukebox wasn't helping matters any.
Then he walked in, scanned the room, then came and sat on the stool right next to me.

You know how you can just look at someone, and just know without knowing, that you could very easily fall in love with them?
Maybe physically their your ideal "type". Maybe it's the way they walk, or the way their eyes sparkle, or the way they smoke their cigarette.
Maybe it's the shape of their hands, the long tapering fingers.
Or the color of their hair or the fullness and curling of their lips when they grin at you.

Sometimes you just know.
There's an instant attraction, an instant connection.

Maybe this has never happened to you, and if so you probably just won't understand.
It's OK, I'm used to that by now.

He was from out of state (Arizona) visiting friends that live here, he said.
He had a boyfriend at home whom he'd been with for over three years, and whom he loved very much, he said.
He was leaving tomorrow morning to go back home, he said.

And all through our conversation his eyes were telling me he wanted me.
I wanted him, too.

Thinking back, I can't remember who made the first move. Our eyes were making love long before anything physical happened.
All I do remember is Erasure ("Chains of Love") was playing on the jukebox and his mouth was on mine, his arms were around me and mine were around him and his kisses were making me breathless.

We went back to my place.
Although I knew he was cheating on his boyfriend being with me, I didn't care. That was his bad Karma, not mine. And if he felt guilty for it afterwards, well that's not my problem either.
And all through our lovemaking (passionate as it was) these thoughts were going through my head:

    Make it last, this will never happen again.
    Make it all that he wants, and everything that I need.
    Make it last, because we're not making any promises. He'll be gone forever tomorrow.
Sometimes you have to take what you can get.

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

It's All About The Follow Through

Sorry I haven't posted anything substantial in a little while. What with working and other things going on, I haven't had much time.
It's quality, rather than quantity that counts the most, right?

This morning I had to go to court about the whole mugging thing that I went through not too long ago. It was the preliminary hearing to see if it should go to trial at Circuit Court.

Technically, my presence wasn't strictly neccessary because the officer that made the arrest was there to testify. But just in case something untoward would have happened and the officer couldn't make it, my presence would have been very neccessary.

I must admit, when they brought the guy who mugged me out in shackles, it totally creeped me out. Just seeing him brought it all back.
I would rather have not gone back there, but some things you just have to face whether you want to or not.

The Assistant States Attorney went over everything that happened with me again, even though I had told her (over the phone) everything that happened.
"The Defense wants a reduction of the charges," she told me, "But after reading the report, and now talking to you, I've decided that they're not going to get it."

I was asked to step outside the courtroom when the officer gave his testimony (apparently so it wouldn't influence my own), so I missed that part of it, and it turns out that my original police report was enough, so I wasn't needed after all.

The final result is that all the charges (first degree assult and battery, theft) all stand and the matter will be going to Circuit Court.

"Will you be willing to testify if we need you?" she asked me afterwards.
"Oh, yeah." I replied.
After what he did to me, I want him sent up the river.

I'm going to step up on my soapbox (again) for just a moment. Bear with me, please.

  • If you are a victim of a crime (theft, rape, assault, what have you) you need to report it. It's the only way we can get the bad elements off the streets and in the prisons where they belong.
  • If your a witness to a crime, you need to step forward and tell what you witnessed so justice can be served.
  • And last (but definitely not least) you need to follow through. Go to court, testify. Move Heaven and Earth to be there.

    Before that case went before the judge I saw three cases dismissed (It's called a "Null Pros" in legal jargon) simply because for one reason or other the police officer couldn't make it and the victims were not there.
    These people just got to walk away scott free.
    Were they guilty? Who knows? We will never know because they're roaming the sreets even as I type this.

    Anyway, it's not over with, a few months from now and I'll be back to follow through yet again.

    And if that wasn't enough, guess what I recieved in my mailbox the other day?
    An official summons to report for Jury Duty on the 20th.
    It's neverending.

  • Monday, October 10, 2005

    Who's That Guy?

    I haven't done this in awhile, but after seeing Twist, Bully, and Disturbing Behavior recently, I couldn't help posting photos of Nick Stahl. Not only is he way sexy, but he's a good actor as well.

    Apparently he also appears in the HBO series Carnivàle.

    He was extra sexy in Bully, that's for certain, but that's probably because he was playing a "bad boy" type, and you know how sexy bad boys are.
    (Well to me, anyway.)

    Tuesday, October 04, 2005

    Ready For Action!

    I had a dream that Tony and I were superheroes and I posted it on here the way I sometimes do when I have an interesting dream (that I can actually remember).

    Well, when I checked my INBOX early (like around 2AM) Monday morning, what do my bleary eyes see before me? Tony had read my post and sent me a drawing that he did of us in superhero gear! What a nice surprise!
    This is the very first time someone has created a graphic or picture for me.
    Thanks, Tony!

    The drawing is quite good, actually, as you can see for yourself. He got my face and my hair perfect, and with just a few lines.
    Amazing!

    Some random thoughts:

  • I hope we're fighting crime someplace warm. In the wintertime we would get pretty chilly in those outfits!
  • Look at the buges in our tights. We are humongous!
    (Those must be our secret weapons, and they look pretty powerful by the size of them.)
  • Look at the cute swashbuckler boots Tony is wearing!
  • We look like a pretty dynamic team, don't we?

    Never just content to leave things just as they are, I immediatly set to work on the graphic, adding text and word balloons to make it look like a comic book cover.
    What do you think? Pretty spiffy, huh?

  • Monday, October 03, 2005

    You Make It Happen

    One of the most difficult things there is in this world to do is to look at someone and not make a value judgement about them.
    By "value judgement" I mean a judgement of someone's "worth" strictly by what you see with your eyes.

    We all have our little prejudices. Most of us try to overcome them, but even so, they're there.
    Maybe it's heavyset or overweight people ("fatso"), maybe it's the elderly ("old geezer"), or small children ("little brats").
    Some men are women-haters, some women are man-haters, some people have a dislike for one race or another. Anything someone can be (black, white, rich, poor, panhandler, thief, gay, straight, doctor, lawyer, Indian chief) is going to be disliked by somebody, somewhere.

    I'm a gay white male, and if someone has a problem with that, then it's their problem, not mine. I can't do anything to change any of those things. Nor would I want to just to please someone else.
    You don't like it, you can kiss my pale white butt.

    Value judgements are particularly dangerous in my line of work, mostly due to the "self-fulfilling prophecy" aspect.

    For those that don't know, a Self-Fulfilling Prophecy is a prediction that, in being made, actually causes itself to come true.

    For example, if a party is seated at one of my tables and I look them over before appoaching the table and make a judgement about them ("Oh, it's a bunch of [inset value judgement here: elderly folks, teenagers, lesbians, Mormons, whatever], I probably won't get a good tip from them.")
    The very second after I make my little judgement about those people, my actions from that point on are altered slightly, most of the time totally subconciously.
    Maybe I'm not as attentive to them as I should be.
    I might not smile as broadly.
    I might, without even knowing I'm doing it, give them a nasty look or roll my eyes when they ask for more cream for their coffee.
    I might wait for them to ask me for something insead of offering it, or (better yet) just bringing to the table.
    They might notice that I'm not as attentive to them as I am my other guests.
    They might sense a certain "standoffishness" in me.
    Even if I try to "fake it", they could pick up on the fact that I'm being a big phoney.
    The result of all of that? A lackluster tip.
    Surprise! I just made my "prediction" come true.

    I try never to judge people before I get to know them. (Afterwards is a totally different story.)
    There are all kinds of people in this world of ours and there is room here for all of us.

    SFP's are also desructive in quite another way.
    If you're thinking ahead of time that someone won't like you, they very possibly won't. Not because you're not a likeable person, but because you're giving off a vibe (probably subconciously) that says either "I don't care if you like me or not" (passive) or "I don't like you either" (agressive).

    Anyway, that's my thought for today.
    Have a good one!

    Sunday, October 02, 2005

    Joke of the Day

    I heard this one the other day, so I thought I'd share it:
    A salesman rings the doorbell and a little boy opens the door. The boy has a bottle of Jack Daniel's in one hand, a Playboy magazine in the other, and a lit cigarette is dangling from the corner of his mouth.
    "Hello there, little boy," the salsesman says, "Are your parents home?"
    The little boy says, "What the fuck do you think?"