I work at a bar.
I live with someone.
I have friends.
I love reading.
That sums me up.
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Monday, August 1, 2011

Get out of my way.

Its incredible to me that people walking on the side walk will blatantly not move over. A party of three walking shoulder to shoulder will stare you down if you are walking towards them. What in the world? I'm pretty sure the city pays for the sidewalk not you. I actually ran into a tree today trying to get out of the way of three, obese, middle aged, ugly, people.

Do you hate that I'm young and skinny?
Sunday, July 24, 2011
For the first time in my life I'm sort of dating someone.... with a kid.
I'm not quite sure on how to handle it. I haven't met this kid yet and I already have trepidation towards what will happen when I do. A kid is ... permanent. What if it doesn't like me? What if it likes me too much and then we part our ways? What if I grow attached and then we split?
It's a new playing field for me.
It's scary enough starting a relationship. This kid business feels like my fledgling relationship is already weighted.
Friday, July 22, 2011

Is this thing on?

Its been so long since I've written anything that it seems pointless to try to "catch up" with anyone who still reads this. So I'm just going to start, today, and write again. I have a new laptop and some time finally on my hands.

I still work at The Black Sparrow. (an update, but not really)

Fledgling relationships are always interesting. I became friends and then later "siblings" with a guy whom I work with. I was seeing someone at the time, but honestly, I loved the guy. Not in that "secretly I wish I was with you but I'm not" sort of scenario. I loved him for him. To justify that feeling and still show that I was deeply committed to my significant other, I started calling him my brother. Drunk one night, I told him how I felt, and explained I had no intention of ever dating him, but that I really just loved him for him. Maybe that was stupid to do, but alcohol feeds honesty.

He soon after added me on Facebook as his sister and I accepted that he was my brother via a social website.
Then the divorce hit. I still don't know what happened. He went on vacation with me, told me it was the best vacation ever, talked about buying a car with me, we had just purchased renters insurance together, one day later he left me without telling me why.
I was a wreck.

4 days after the break up, I had finally weaned myself off of booze and had switched to anti-depressants and happy pills. A friend invited me over to watch tv (she was worried sick about me) and while she was playing on Facebook, messaged my "brother" and asked what he had done for his "sister" in all this mess.
He came over shortly after to support his "sister."
It was a normal evening, they did a couple round of shots, while I laid on the couch in a Clonazepam haze, we watched True Blood, and then it was time for my friend to go to sleep. She asked my brother if he wanted to stay and he agreed. I laid down on one couch and him on the other. He started whispering to me in the dark and telling me how things would be better soon for me.
I got up, walked over and curled up against him. He held me, I told him I loved him, he said it back and then it went all haywire.

I slept with my brother.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Are you Type A,B, or C?

There are three types of people in this world when it comes to restaurants:

Type A:
Arrives to a restaurant, sits down, gets greeted, then proceeds to talk and not look at a menu. When they finally get around to looking at the menu, and decide on what they want, they are pissed as hell that the server is not immediately at their table to take their order. I'll call this type, "The world revolves around me." After getting their order in, they will chug their waters as fast as they can and repeat the above process with their refills. TWRAM are horrible people to wait on and usually tip like crap no matter how many water refills they get.

Type B:
Arrives to a restaurant, sits down, gets greeted, orders drinks, by the time the server gets back with said drinks, orders food and lets the server know if they want extras (side ranch, no tomato, etc.) and are completely happy even if their drinks get a little low or their waters need refilling.
Tip like rock stars.

Type C:
Arrives to a restaurant....
Then A, take forever to sit downv(should we sit here? or here?), or B sits down immediately.
Gets greeted....
Then A, orders drinks or B, can't decide on anything but is polite about it.
Server gets back with drinks, (finally, or immediately)....
Then A, One can't decide on something so server has to come back, or B orders food.
Server checks on them from time to time....
Then A, orders more drinks, B, suddenly remembers they want a side of ranch
Server brings food...
Then A, orders more drinks, or B, suddenly remembers they want a side of ranch
Server brings check....
Then A, pays, B, suddenly wants separate checks, C, wants more drinks instead.

It's a love/hate thing with Type C. Sometimes they tip well, making every indecision worth it. Sometimes they don't, making you never want to wait on them again.

Luckily, with my job, if I don't want to wait on you, I don't have too. Shitty tip? No thanks, I'll even tell you that to your face. Awesome customer? I'll actually wait on you before three other people in the crowd.

You know what this means?
300 dollars on a Tuesday night and home by one A.M.
My rent is 400 + all utilities.
I've always had a back-up apartment. I've lived with two guys (meaning most of the stuff went into their place but not all), I've had drawers at five guy's places, and I've always had an apartment. The two guys I lived with always wanted me to bring the rest of my stuff over and move in officially, but in the back of my brain there was always a flashing red light, "Warning, SipsWine, Warning."

So based on the above, it comes with monumental satisfaction, to say, "I'm moving in with Ben." It took only 28 years to feel comfortable enough with someone, to move in when they asked.

Needless to say, the experience is very new for me, and Ben is having a blast laughing at my questions and hesitations.
Me: So what are we going to do with chest of drawers?
Ben: Put it next to mine.
Me: But then we'll have two.
Ben: Is your chest of drawers full of clothes?
Me: Yes.
Ben: Then I guess we need two.

Or.

Me: Where will I hang my Audrey Hepburn pictures?
Ben: On the wall.
Me: Which one?
Ben: I don't care, any of them.
Me: But, which one do you want them on so they are out of your way?
Ben: Honey, this is your apartment now. I want them wherever you want them.

It'll take some getting use too.
Saturday, December 25, 2010

Big Gift vs. Small Gift.

Every year, for the last 28 of my life, my parents have gotten my brother and I a "big gift." That could mean an actual big gift (my dollhouse that my dad made for me when I was 6 or 7) or a "big" gift (like my American Girl's doll when there was only Molly, Kristin, and Samantha). Either way, my brother and I would open presents and then go find our "big gift."

This year, my brother and I decided that a "big" gift was in order for my parents who had a 1997 27 inch tv in their living room.

500 dollars later, we had a 32 inch (only size that would fit into their entertainment center), 1080, LCD, LED TV for them.

My mom and dad have not stopped talking about it since.
It's a nice feeling to give back some of what you've received.

Merry Christmas everyone.

ONE RING TO RULE THEM ALL.



Long story.
I forgot my Google password.
I hadn't posted in awhile, still remembering my password, posted, promptly forgot password.

I'm 27 and have selective Alzheimer's.

Then I was reading Hyperbole and a half and decided that her newest post was the most amazing post I had ever read and magically, I remembered my password.

I REMEMBERED!

Not only that, I have a laptop, which means I can type out posts NO MATTER WHERE I AM.

So the last year was a waste. The man I dated dumped me and then decided 4 months later that he actually wanted me and thought we'd be good as man and wife. I use "man and wife" because this decision was based solely on what he felt and in no reference to my happiness and well being.
Therefore, it was a man decision to require a wife to cook and clean for him, because I'm sure about 4 months after I was out of his life he suddenly realized he had had only pizza, wings, and chinese food to eat and was sitting in his own filth.
I look really good then.

I took one look at him and said, "no."

He took it as I would rather be with the ridiculously handsome and same aged boyfriend I was seeing and not the fact that I didn't want to aspire to clean and cook for him the rest of my life.

Men are sometimes stupid.
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