Beer for Bums

In a drunken collaboration we've developed a sure fire way for us to go to hell.

Hmmmm

I am the Jesus for the crazies. They flock to me.

(excuse my blasphemy, but it's true)


I had myself a date tonight. He seemed like a nice guy but of course, whenever meeting e-men, I always have a back up plan in place to avoid being the next newscasters dream story. We met in a public place, took my car (so I could ram it into a cement wall and kill us both if he tried anything fishy) and headed off to Thai food.


I'll just brush over some topics of conversation...


1: Defending his being molested by his babysitter when he was 4 as one of the most compassionate and rewarding experiences of his life.


2: His fear of becoming a teacher due to his doubt on whether or not he could refrain from being inappropriate with students.


3: His attack on ME because people who are so vehemently against the topics in 1 and 2 likely have the desire to partake in such activities


and last, his questioning on how "I" might feel about having sex with him, and animals, simultaneously.


I was saved by the arrival of the Thai restaurant. During dinner the conversation unfortunately continued and I almost punched him in the face when he mocked my dad's suicide. Finally, we finished dinner, I regained my composure, and initiated my escape plan. Tonight it was my wonderful gay husband, J. He was scheduled to show up at my house at 9:30 pm. I knew that my date wasn't familiar with the area and since I lived in a twisty-turny neighborhood and knew that he wouldn't remember where I lived. We drove back to my place and arrived at 9:01. I had 29 minutes to stall because there was no way I was actually going to spend any reasonable amount of time with this man inside my house and away from ears that might hear my screams.


Somehow, after all we'd been through, my date thought he still had a chance. The minute I stopped, he proceeded to lean over and yank my foot from the floor board of the car to observe my tattoo...I sat there, awkwardly as he stroked my foot and admired the art work, slowly running his fingers between my toes and simultaneously bringing my dinner back up.


I held my cool, retrieved my foot, and jumped out of the car and risked my chances in the house. In an attempt to send a very strong hint, I vacuumed (for the full 25 minutes) while he sat awkwardly on the couch. Seeing as I only have vacuum in one room of my apartment I figured the message was going through loud and clear. Then, right on time, Jason rang the door bell and I was free!


Everything went according to plan, I apologized to my date, and informed him it was time to go. Somehow, even after all this, I had to peel him off me when he attempted to stick his slimy tongue into my mouth before exiting my vehicle.


I'm starting to think I may be the common denominator in my dating and that I'm lucky to not have been chopped into bits and put in tupperware.

McCreepy

Lately I've been working to pay off some bills, leaving me with very little surplus. Since this month has been a bit slow, very little surplus means dinner is a cold can of ravioli.

Roommate broke the microwave. :(

Anyway, as I was spooning cold imitation tomato sauce into my mouth my phone rang. It was the fox driving old guy from last month inviting me to dinner.

Ummm...what happened to giving a girl some notice?

Then I realized...Ummm...Bitch, You ARE eating COLD, GENERIC BRAND, MEAT POCKETS for dinner.

I agreed to dinner, scrambled for my "date dress" and met him at one of the finest restaurants in town.

From what I remembered he was handsome enough to justify at least one dinner. But then again I had never seen him in his Hawaiian shirt, khaki short, sock-less loafer wearing glory.

WTF was I thinking!!!!!!!!!!

The worst part being he looked like my grandpa. Meaning he looked like the kind of grandpa who's hand gravitates to the fine line between a young girls back and ass. Nothing kills a date like fearing you may seem to be part of a strange Incestuous love triangle.

It got worse when I was I.D'd at the door, and the hostess gave me a look of doom. Especially since I didn't HAVE my I.D and was left standing there while he went back to the car.

Once we DID make it inside, let me share with you what I received in exchange for partaking in a delicious $200.00 meal:

ONE: Glimpses of text messages coming from the hostess to my...date...asking him if he'd told me "the truth"

TWO: His Italian lessons, teaching me how to say "whore" and "slut" because that's what all these other girls were

THREE: Stories about what MADE these other girls "whores"


At one point, when he took a breath and learned that my hobby included writing, he then taught me a few things about books.

ONE: He was contemplating writing a book on relationships, because there just aren't any relationship books out there

TWO: Now that he's thought about it, he WAS going to write a book about relationships because there aren't any relationship books out there

THREE: He was going to call it "All men want is good pussy and all women need is a good dick"

I have never yearned for cold meat product more in my life.

"K"lapmet Karma

Karma got ME today in the form of one needy and belligerent customer after another.





Of course after the third or fourth one you realize that monetarily your day is toast and courtesy seems to take all you have.



Unfortunately it was in regards to the only thing we DIDN'T have....corn. I'll just let you listen for yourself.



MY LADY PATRON: " I want country fried steak, salad with ranch, and corn"



ME:" I'm sorry ma'am we don't serve corn, but we DO have a baked potato, mashed potatoes, extra vegetables (that aren't corn) or maybe even applesauce?"



MY LADY PATRON "I want corn. You gave it to me last week so I know you have it"



ME (losing my cool): "Again I'm sorry, perhaps it was another restaurant because we've never offered corn"



MY LADY PATRON "Yes you do. Why don't you go CHECK. You'll see."



IN MY MIND "Fine you stupid bitch. I'd be happy to go waste my time looking for your fucking corn, but since we DON'T HAVE ANY FUCKING CORN, and I'm sure that once I ask they'll tell me we DON'T HAVE ANY FUCKING CORN, why don't you choke on your god damned salad and save me the trouble of having to stand here and play kiss ass. Then again what the fuck do I know I'm just a stupid-corn-fetching-coffee-pouring-gum-chewing-waitress who gets to run around all day hunting down golden nuggets for whores like you"



OUT LOUD: I would be happy to. There's a good chance we've added it to the menu and I just didn't know. In the case that we're out is there anything else you'd like to try?





MY LADY BITCH: "Applesauce" she pretty much screamed at me.





The look of satisfaction she gave me as I lowered her plate, turned to my satisfaction when she saw the applesauce.



I smiled politely and let her know " Once again I'm sorry, but we didn't have corn"





The mutual sassing was worth it, seeing as this was a moneyless transaction :)

The Call of the Banjo

Today was awesome.

It reminded me of all the things I hope one day to never become.

I know you all have seen those fishbowls full of business cards advertising free lunch. We have one hosted by a local financial institution. You drop in your card and they fish it out, then you get free lunch and they try and lure you into their programs.

Well I would've paid money to see which card fished out this bunch of goonies.

It was a free lunch Wednesday and Greg the finance rep came in early to wait for his guests. Somehow they managed to pull the bumpkin wagon around the restaurant without me noticing because I was genuinely shocked when 12 over sized back country folk came strolling in the door.

They were a tasteful mix of the "Deliverance" gang and the lady in the looney turn shirt collecting cans off the street, and they had brought everyone they knew to this free luncheon.

My first stand off with the Mrs's was whens she demanded the largest booth we have in the restaurant, the one currently occupied by another group of guests.I offered her the back of the restaurant instead where her crowd could still stick close together and be able to hear their speaker.

Crazy Bitch fought me.

She actually thought I was going to kick another group out of their seats in the middle of their lunch so her posse could huddle in unison. I gave her two options. Either wait for the group to finish, however long that might be...or sit in the only other two adjoining booths in the restaurant. She finally huffed into place and in a matter of seconds began barking orders and appetizers at me.

She literally ordered a full appetizer, full dinner, drink, AND dessert for every person at her table. If this lunch was free, by god they were going to ROLL out of this joint.

I punched in their order, shocked that people like this really exist. I have never seen such a group of entitled and yet undeserving people in my life. I don't think they listened to a word our business man Greg spewed out, but they sure did make the best of their charity lunch.

The finale came when I brought out our "Gem's" choice of salad. Because we were a full restaurant and clean dishes were low, it came out on a plate instead of the accustomed bowl. She was disgusted and ordered me to have it sent back because she couldn't mix it on a plate. She NEEDED a bowl.

My 3 steps to solving her dilemma.

One...walk to kitchenTwo....

Get bowlThree....Dump Salad in bowl

Once presented with her lovingly tossed salad, she glared at me and said..."Excuse me! Did you just DUMP this salad in a bowl?"

"Yes ma'am, It figured it wouldn't be as hard to mix this way" I sang at her. My frustration MORE than obvious.

She slammed the Salad back into my hands and demanded I go back and get her a NEW salad, made in the bowl with the garnishments on top.I tenderly replaced the salad into the one empty spot on the table, and said no.

And since her lunch was paid for, my tip already in my pocket, and her entire family telling her to get over it, she knew there was nothing she could do about it.

As she fumed, and I walked away, I almost thought I heard the sad wailing of broken hearted banjos.

McSuprise

So I was fresh out of diner dash smelling like breakfast specials and ranch dressing, waiting in line at the local fast food stop for my giant diet coke. I was minding my own business when a decrepit, rust-covered, maroon vw fox zoomed past me....then clunked into reverse and backed up to my passenger side window.

The semi-handsome older gentleman behind the wheel beckoned for me to roll down my window and hurriedly exclaimed that he thought I was a good looking woman and he'd like to take me to dinner.

I have absolutely NO idea what I was thinking, but I gave him my actual number.

Eek.

I suppose I was just giving him props for have the cahunas to beat down the window of a complete stranger.

I done got me some stalkers

And they gone done and drank all the hot chocolate.

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum have been eating at the diner. They rally up all the leather they can find in order to compliment their not-so-charming cowboy hats and they mosey on into my section.

At first it was flattering, well not really, but the tips they left in an attempt to gain my attention was flattering.

Now it's creepy.

I'm a pretty easy going girl, but walking in, requesting my section, and CAMPING ALL DAY LONG, while eye-balling my undeserving behind...is creepy.