What to say? Nope, not too much here. It’s been beautiful up until yesterday and it started cooling down… and by cooling I mean I need a jacket. So, funny things that have happened to me lately:
- Apparently buddhist monks also enjoy the finer things in life… and by that I mean the local Dunkin Donuts and their free wireless internet. You know monks need their caffeine and email just as bad as the average person, right?
- I’ve had two of the strangest experiences at Mexican restaurants lately. 1) we went on our first official girls’ night out to see hottie Matt Mc. In Failure to Launch (very funny, good date movie… for those of you that are dating, rather than just doing it… you know who you are). We decided to go to a mexican restaurant beforehand and the bitchiest waitress ever “helped” us. First she came up to us and asked my friend J if she was ready to order… she said “I just need a minute”. So clearly the correct thing to do was for her to take one giant step back and start counting backwards from 60 under her breath. This pressured my friend so much that she couldn’t think of an order and lost her window of opportunity. Oh well, you snooze, you lose, and then you don’t get your burrito. Next, I’m halfway through my cheesy delicacy when she comes up and starts removing plates asking if we want dessert or just the check. Um, bitch, I’m still eating…. But yes, in fact, I’ll have a fried ice cream then. My friend S really wanted to complain at this point, but I reminded her that although I agreed she needed a smack down I did not want ice cream covered in spit… or other miscellaneous goo. Then, after the waitress drops off the bill, we are sitting talking, and she repeatedly walks over and lifts up the check to see if we’ve yet to place our credit cards. We ask if it’s okay if we finish our drinks and sit for a minute. Seriously, she comes back two minutes later and hovers. Apparently the little screen flashes an angry red at her and then she has to grab our cards and kick us out. Of course rather than doing anything about it and complaining to management she will forever be immortalized in scathing, idiot waitress stories that I will tell until some waitperson does any even worse job.
- 2) we went to another mexican restaurant tonight and had a very flamboyant gay man, who clearly felt stunted by his uniform and the mandatory bolo tie he was forced to wear. When told he smelled good he responded with “thanks, it’s a mix of burberry and paris hilton’s perfume” WTF, I’m gonna start sporting Drakkar Noir and Polo, who says I’m not woman enough to smell like a dude.
- so myspace is an odd place. I’ve met some really awesome people (you know who you are), but there are also some crazies out there. I keep getting friend requests from 40 year old men, divorced, two kids, Christian, huge NASCAR fans. Um, I’m sorry, does my profile just scream out to hillbillies? I thought I came off pretty liberal… but who knows. I also find it very amusing that there is at least one guy a day sending me a message saying “You’re hot… let’s meet up”. Does that really work? Are there really girls out there that say, “Sure, I don’t know you, and you might chop me up and feed me to your hog, but let’s meet up in a dark alley somewhere.” I had no idea when I signed up that it would essentially be an online meat market. Who needs match when you have myspace.
- So my friend… ,we’ll call her Betty, is wondering the appropriate amount of time to consider a relationship, just that, a relationship? Is a month too long or too short? I think if you’re bumpin and grinding on a fairly regular basis, you hang out almost every other day, and you have actually had a night together when you really did “just” sleep… maybe it’s time. It’s tricky though, if he’s parading you around in front of his friends and calling you his “friend”, but then telling his parents about you, and saying he might want to change his “relationship status” on his myspace… Yech, dating is so much drama…. I think it wouldn’t be so bad if we went to caveman days, with the clubbing over the head. Except this time women should get the clubs, and while the men are gathering berries you check him out, and if he looks fertile and virile (and like he might have a good job, future aspirations and be sensitive… you can of course tell all that from looking)… then you take a good swing and WHACK… you’ve found your mate. No hassle, no relationship mess, just a mild concussion.
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This post does NOT do a good job of making me want to join myspace.
Your perfume bit made me spit water all over my computer, which is now sort of operating, but not really. Very funny, you owe me 3k