How could I forget?

I forgot one of the funniest parts of the night. After handing me the $50, the woman gives me a note scrawled on a napkin:

"GOD made the sky blue for people like you. Love Wendy."

She then says, "I'm a writer."

Poor woman.

A Night Out With Two Shirts

Our night started early, innocently. We went to Ziggy's Healthy Grill for TwoShirt's first introduction to whole wheat pasta and turkey meatballs (he didn't even notice the difference) and a Ziggyrita, the healthiest margarita in town.

We run back home to put up my leftovers and to drop off TS' car. As we're there, he notices my pasty white neighbor on the porch. TS screams, "Hey Kim! Can I leave my car here or will some FUCKING YUPPIE make a big deal out of it and yell at me. I HATE FUCKING YUPPIES!" I almost peed in my pants laughing in the car.

From there we went downtown to figure out where I should take my dad for his birthday celebration. Of course, being Sunday at 7, nothing is open, so we went to Cabo for a little margarita and beer. Sitting on the patio, we watch pigeons huddle around a couple who is getting ready to leave. As soon as they leave their seats, the Godpigeon motions to the rest of his crew to jump aboard, and they massacre the chips. The funniest part, though, is that the Godpigeon begins picking up a chip, dipping it in salsa, and then flying down to the ground to eat it. The rest follow suit. Funnniest damn thing. Then, Two Shirts, starts talking to the pigeons: "Come here, pigeon." He's not doing it in that high pitched puppy voice that people get. It's a soothing yoga teacher sound, "Come to me, pigeon." Damn pigeon starts coming over. Then another starts almost eating out of his hand. He is now dubbed TwoShirts, the pigeon whisperer.

Next comes Warrens, a mint green building on the outside and something akin to the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland on the inside. We sit down to be educated by the bartender about every drink and every form of liquor made. In fact, if you didn't know, a real martini is not made with olives. It is made with lemons. Olives are "new, only within the last 25 years." yeah, that's new.

We're sitting at the bar, me sandwiched between the two men (the way I like it!) when we hear some woman shout out, "I'm sorry. I've never been to Detroit!" Yes, it was very much like the woman in Willy Wonka, "I like Grapes!" We look over, and there is a pitifully drunk woman talking to herself or to the large paper bag on the counter, I'm not sure which. We start placing bets on what's in the paper bag, the final consensus being that it was filled with a shrunken head, a tube of very messy lipstick, a handmirror, a wire hanger, and a bag of salt water taffy.

A Cumbia comes on, and the woman, very animated, jumps up and screams, "A Salsa! Does anyone salsa?" No one says anything of course, and I feel bad because I think that this poor lonely woman just wants to dance and is about to get up and dance all by herself in the middle of the bar. So I say, "fine, I do" and get up to dance with her. FREAK. She tells me that I need to
"dance sideways. do it sideways" and I have no idea what she's talking about because she's just basically hunched over like someone in a nursing home scooting across the rec area for some punch. The song ends, we sit down, thankfully.

Well, that was the wrong, or perhaps the right move, my friends. It opened up the lines of communications, lines better left closed in a high security mental institution. "Heeeeey," she drunkenly screams at me, "Hey, you have a beautiful face. Don't be mad at me. Don be mad. I like men, okaaay. I like [hiccup] men bucha see you have a bootiful face and you should be smilin."

Ok, I say.

"No, yeeeew should be smilin. You have nice teeth. You should smile those teeth. They're nice teeth aren't they nice teeth I think they are nice teeth.. YOu should smile with those nice teeth [crazy cackle] yeah you should you should smile. "

Ok. [smile a weird please don't kill me smile]

"Here." She hands Two Shirts a wadded up piece of green something. He opens it up, and his eyes instantly widen, almost popping out of his head. He turns to me, "Kim, you need to smile!"
It was a $50 bill. No shit. The woman gave me a $50 bill. I hand it back to her, and she says, "NO NO NO NO NO you smile. you smile all night. you have a beautiful face and a beautiful smile and nice teeth and you should smile. you're sitting there all [she makes some weird sad face] and you should smile here's money for you to smile all night. you smile." Again, I try to give her the money back but this time she is a little violent about me keeping it so I just pocket the money and say thank you.

For about 2 more hours, she keeps looking over and making sure I'm smiling, and by this point, I'm laughing so damn hard that I can't help but smile. My jaw hurts. Two more hours of her talking to me about the same thing, and then our friend Jake, the Lucy from peanuts guy comes in. We briefly and quietly catch him up to speed, but we don't have to catch up much because she pretty much says it all.

Then she crosses the line. She leans over, almost falling off her stool, to Two Shirts, and says, "Hey [in a very seriously disturbed tone] she never did give me a hhhhhhu-ug for that money." TS turns over his shoulder to me and says, "ok, she crossed the line. Let's get out of here." We quickly pay and leave to La Carafe for sanctuary.

Weird thing is the woman was still at the bar when we went home, and TS, in rare form, goes back in and thanks her for the money. She says, "No problem."

What a night.

Moron

I came home from work last night about 10:30 pm to a blocked off street. After convincing the cop that I actually do live on that street and am not just looking for parking for Pride, I look for a spot. the only spot on the whole street is in front of my pasty white next door neighbor's house. Park, go upstairs, crash from a 61 hr work week. Mind you, my pasty white neighbor was actually parked in his driveway at this point.

This morning, get up at 7, go to work. Come home about 2:30, fuckhead is parked in front of my house--his driveway is completely empty. And he's sitting inside his house, looking out the window with pasty white fuckhead son/daughter on his knee, staring and smirking. He just does this to spite me EVERYTIME i park in front of his motherfucking house. I hate this bastard, and today, I'm going to do something about it.

First of all, I'm unleashing Tootie G on his ass; she's going to piss on his fucking piece of shit black boring ass Audi. Then I'm concocting something else which will most likely involve rock salt, anal lube, and illegal fireworks. [Simpsons' Allusion: Homer: "I'll have a three musketeers, a pen, comb, one of those porno mags, some illegal fireworks, pint of old harper, and some of those portable enemas"].

That oughta do it.

I Loathe Yuppies

Remember this story? And this one?

Today I had to park on the south side of the street because the north side is blocked off for the Pride Parade. I find the last place left, which is in front of a neighbor's house across the street. I get out of the car with heavy bags, close the door, and am halfway across the street when he yells out, "Hey, you can't park in front of my house. I need to edge my lawn in a minute." I said, "Um,, there's nowhere else to park." he points to the other side of the street. I say, "well, that's actually off limits due to the parade." He says, "Well, this is my guest parking." JESUS there goes that guest parking shit again. I have to explain to him like I did to the dullard next door that the part in front of his house is not his personal property.

What in the hell is wrong with these people?

Oh, I forgot

The funniest part of the whole night was after I peeled off my smoke filled clothes and fell asleep. I had the wildest dream.

I dreamed that my friend Panchette was dating Praxis88, and that Edgy and I went to visit them in DC. Prax took us out in his royal purple VW van (oh, yeah) for my birthday. We were going to some local watering hole when Prax got a text on his cell. He turned the van around Dukes of Hazzard style and headed out to "fix a tense situation." What?

Turns out, some group was going to blow up a building, and Prax needed to stop it from happening. I said, "Um, I thought you were a librarian." His response: "You thought the Library of Congress was really a library?"

Long story short, we had to dress up in saris and pretend we were praying by the building while we fiddled with some wires and somehow fixed the situation or so we thought. As we drove away hi fiving each other, the building exploded anyway. Praxis wiped his hands together and said, "Well, it happens. All in a day's work."

$1700 Part 2

I make my way back to the bar, where Edgy is already sitting with Jack and Coke in hand, order a Cosmo and say, "What the hell is this?" At this point, we both look like wet dogs and are hunkering down in the part of the bar with little light to remain as inconspicuous as possible and to stay away from the aforementioned Katie. People keep walking up to us, "Are you a member?" By this time, David is long gone, so I just tell people, "Prospective...just figuring it all out."

Then we get the scoop from a Jewish woman from the Bronx who moved down here to be close to her son and is overwhelmingly unhappy with him because he (surprise) decided to move to California after she moved here. Now she's trying to get reacclimated and form some friendships (at this point she makes sure to tell me 20 times that this club is not just for hookups--that you CAN hookup but that you really just want to make a close network of friends here). Then she mutters through the side of her teeth that it's too damn expensive. I ask what she means by that, and she doesn't want to tell me. Finally, she relents and says that to get into this party, you had to pay a $1700 activation fee. $1700 gets you what, I ask. She says it gets you into the party (plus a $20 tip fee tacked on for the waiters and Katie people) and pays for administrative things like your personal appointment setter for the year. Apparently, after that, there is something to do everyday (they were all going skydiving the next day), but you have to pay entry fees for everything that you do, so the $1700 really only gets you this free party and a Katie of your own. At this point, it makes sense why she's a little miffed that I'm eating their food as a "prospective" member.

Twinge of guilt hits but quickly passes with my next mai tai (they make tasty ones) and a couple of Southwestern eggrolls. Couldn't get the coconut shrimp. Those people piled them on their plates like it was their last meal. Then again, can't blame them after paying $1700. Linen tablecloths and candles everywhere. It was like prom, really, only with more laugh lines and bald heads.

David comes up with his entourage, emerging from the masses like a cult leader, all eyes transfixed on him. Really, picture a guy with soap opera looks surrounded by little waifs with the Katie Holmes geek chic look and Blackberries in hand to capture your date requests. It was surreal. At this point, I'm texting 3 people at the same time in utter disbelief that I'm watching this. Wait...David raises his hand. It appears that he's blessing the people (I can't hear him over the whispers around me) no no, he's just saying thank you for lining his pockets with gold...er, I mean coming to the party.

He waves us on into the private screening room where we find more linen tables and waiters. I'm thinking, Ok, this is cool. What are we seeing? More food, more drinks, previews. Previews? what are these? They are all animated. What the hell? Then the movie. It's Over the Hedge?!? WTF? Animated squirrels and porcupines?

We're about halfway through the movie when wheezing comes from right behind us. It's some guy laughing. He laugheezes through the whole movie. Not a funny movie, really, even with rum, but this guy thinks it's a riot.

All in all, an interesting night. I've never attended a $1700 datefest before, and probably will never do it again, but at least I can say I had the experience.

The $1700 blog entry--prelude

What a night--a night warranting an advil and one of my special smoothie concoctions (works even better than Vault: soymilk, fresh OJ, and frozen cranberries) this morning.

It started off as any other night. I, in need of a night out for once (this new job has me working late most nights), said, "Edge, let's go to the symphony in the park." Well, our state birds, Los Mosquitos, kept that from happening, so we opted for dinner and a movie instead. Here in TX, you can have dinner and a movie in one place, thanks to Harlows, so we went there for dinner. Actually, I was pleasantly surprised with the food, and the mashed potatoes were nummy.

It had been a long day, so I added a Mai Tai with dinner, even though I've cheated enough this week. You have to cheat when you sit in meetings all day, and they bring in lunch to keep you there longer. Great Mai Tai and really big and strong (I like 'em big and strong) but the service--not so great. We missed our movie and any other movies we wanted to see at the 7ish time frame, so we had to wait until 9.

Well, I needed to go shopping for some items for a father's day project (for the kids) this weekend, so we decided to walk a mile or so up to the nearest Walgreens. We've gone about a 1/4 mile when out of the sky appears the little black cloud that is always over Eeyore's head. Damn thing pours on us and seems to follow us everywhere we walk. The funny thing is that the rest of the skies are perfect.

We make it back to Harlows, soaked. The valet guys give us glares, as do all the people in the restaurant. And then, as I'm trying to make my way to the bar through an odd sea of people, some 1970s game show host steps in front of me (Edgy just walks by to the bar, unnoticed):
"HEY!"
Um, hey?
"What? You don't remember me? It's David, remember?"
[blank stare]
"I can't believe you don't remember me! Julia, right?"
[blank stare]
"Oh, sorry, I thought you were Julia, one of our members. You look just like her."
Um, yeah, I am Julia; I just go by Jules, more often. Um, yeah, so open bar right?
"Yeah, and free food, too. Help yourself. And Katie's assigned to you so let her know if you want to make any arrangements."
[blank stare]
"With any of the other singles."
Riiight. yeah, ok. Well, thanks, David. Sorry I didn't recognize you right off. I was a little discombobulated with the sudden rain and all and plus, are you working out?
"Why yes, I am, actually."
Yeah, that's what I thought. Well, I'm gonna make my way to the bar now. Thanks a lot.
[I walk to the bar, thousands of hungry eyes following me. ] This should be fun, I thought.

Ambrosia is the food of the gods? F*ck Ambrosia.

I fell off the wagon and I fell off it hard, my sweets, but every ounce of pain and heartache I will feel in the morning is soooooo worth it. My friend took me out tonight in payment for babysitting her daughter.

Dolce Vita, the name of the place, and it was! Ah, the sweet life, folks, started out with potatoes arrabiata as an appetizer. OMG, if I thought that the Heidelberg or the Red Lion had good potatoes, I was corrected tonight. My friend ordered roasted cauliflower, which she said was delicious, but I didn't try it. Vinegar will forever be nixed from my diet; plus, I hate cauliflower.

Also had a Sicilian wine. I forgot the name and the type of grape. Sorry, I was enrapt in tubers at the moment. It wasn't a typical wine style anyway and had three Italian names to remember. My friend got a fruity white wine that started with an F. Falagheri or something like that.

Then it was time for some pizza. Yeast and cheese are no nos, you know. Well, they have about 16 different types of pizza. I ordered the melanzane (Eggplant, parmesean, and mozz). Scraped off the cheese (which didn't taste right to me anymore anyway) and didn't even miss it. The eggplant was like eating dessert, perfectly cooked and salted--no bitterness. A nice, thin crust like Mama Fazio used to make. [Sigh, if only Edgy had an Italian aunt or something. I miss the food from Samiutzo's family].

Did I stop there? Hell no! Ordered espresso, which came in a square demitasse (I love square cups) and a little pistachio biscotti. Then ended with gelato. I LOVE GELATO. I think Glinda even has a picture of me with gelato spoons in my mouth. This, though, was the 2nd best gelato I've ever had (Vivoli in Florence being the best--ah god, the melone). Three baby scoops of whatever flavors you want in a sundae glass with whipped cream and a canoli shell on top. We ordered pistachio, white chocolate mint, and dark 55% chocolate. Pistachio was fantastic. I was torn between it and the nocciola, but nocciola always reminds me of weddings and baby showers. Plus, it was the perfect color green. I love green food. The white chocolate mint was made with real mint leaves. It honestly reminded me of summers on my grandma's porch chewing on the mint leaves in her yard. The chocolate, though, made both of us say HOLY SHIT at the same time. I don't think I've ever had chocolate gelato so good. I don't even like chocolate gelato, actually. She picked that one, but damn, it was a good choice. Combination of the three together on a spoon with a hint of real whipped cream--PRICELESS!

Ah, la dolce vita!

Someone did call me a raconteur in a love letter once

Your Seduction Style: The Charmer

You're a master at intimate conversation and verbal enticement. You seduce with words, by getting people to open up to you. By establishing this deep connection quickly, people feel under your power. And then you've got them exactly where you want them!

What Is Your Seduction Style?