I sat at the red light with my usual mindless rotation of thought. Through my rear view mirror, I saw a clunker of a car approach. It was your typical heap... the kind of car that might make one think that the person driving has very little. I watched as the driver, a man, and his passenger, a woman, slowly crept up to my bumper. It became clear to me that this was a couple. And then it became even more clear that it was something more than that.
I watched the woman hold the man's left arm to her head as it draped over her shoulder. I could see that she was clearly out of her seat as she sat closer to the man than the seat's comfortably allowed. They exchanged several glances. She kissed his cheek. He kissed hers. He leaned over and kissed her below the ear and held his head there. She leaned to his left hand still hanging over her shoulder. She kissed it and then just left her lips on his hand, as if his hand held the key to his soul.
When the car approached, my first thought was this was a man who had very little based on the bare condition of his car. As I watched he and his partner I quickly realized this man had far more than all that I had. He had the bare minimum that the world could give, but he also had everything.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
The Nerve
I went out with my friend Rebecca and one of her friends last night. We sat down at our table at the restaurant. And let me just say this... while I know I am pretty gutless when it comes to being bold with the ladies, but on the other hand, at least I'm not one of those guys who just bombard women and talk to them with entitled expectations. So, we sit down and right off the bat this guy comes to the table, "Hey ladies." He looks at me, "Hi." I just glare back at him.
"Can I get you anything to start," he asks. Are you kidding me? That's about the most ballsy introduction I've ever heard. Sure guy, and they'll just be lifting their shirts up for you too. But, I think the girls felt a little flattered and asked for beers. Ok, so first the guy is just all over them, but now they're going to try and score some free drinks off this guy? I figure I'll challenge the guy a bit and I tell him to bring me one too. He knows not to push it, so he just smiles and says he'll be right back. What a player.
The girls and I start looking over the menu. The guy returns in a minute or so with our beers. "Here you go." Damn, this guy is just fearless. "Hey, can I get you something to eat?" What? Is this guy just Mr. Money and he'll just feed his way into these girls' panties? But before you know it, the girls start telling him what they want. I really thought I knew these girls, or at least Rebecca. But all of the sudden it's like I'm in a Girls Gone Wild Video. Not to be outdone, I tell the guy to bring ME a cheeseburger. He rolls with it. I guess he figures he'll look like an ass if he tries to ignore me.
Before any of us can finish our beers the guy comes back again. "Can I get you all some more beers?" At this point I'm almost ready to stand up and say something, and if not to the guy, to the girls for being such floozies. But I keep my calm. Rebecca tells him to bring us another round, and HE DOES. Now listen, I know Rebecca is happily married and her friend is in a committed relationship. This is why I don't date. If my girlfriend or wife ever acted like this toward another guy, it would be over. But it seems they all act like this. They can't be trusted.
The guy comes back with more beers, but now he's acting all cool as he just drops them off and wanders off to another table where he's putting on the same act, but this time with guys. I guess he's bi or something.
A bit later the food arrives. I tell the guy, "Hope you can afford all this." He throws out a fake laugh to impress the girls. We start eating, but before we can even get four bites in the guy comes back and asks how we are doing. Give it a rest dude! They aren't going home with you.
We finish our food and, get this... the guy walks over and asks if he can get us anything else. "Oh, I know what you want you dirty son of a bitch," I think to myself. The girls sort of tone it down now. "Oh, no. I think we're ready to go home." The guy finally seems to get the message that they just aren't in to him. So what does he do? He walks back and throws down a piece of paper telling us to pay him. Now that is bold. I've never seen a guy get rejected and throw that one back. This guy's got balls.
What do the girls do? They pay the guy money. Do they have ANY self esteem? They look at me and ask how much I'm putting in. What? Let me get this straight... you ladies let some guy horn in on you... reject him after he buys you drinks and food... and I have to cover part of this? Seeing as how Rebecca drove, I figured I wouldn't argue with her, so I threw some money on the table. What a night.
"Can I get you anything to start," he asks. Are you kidding me? That's about the most ballsy introduction I've ever heard. Sure guy, and they'll just be lifting their shirts up for you too. But, I think the girls felt a little flattered and asked for beers. Ok, so first the guy is just all over them, but now they're going to try and score some free drinks off this guy? I figure I'll challenge the guy a bit and I tell him to bring me one too. He knows not to push it, so he just smiles and says he'll be right back. What a player.
The girls and I start looking over the menu. The guy returns in a minute or so with our beers. "Here you go." Damn, this guy is just fearless. "Hey, can I get you something to eat?" What? Is this guy just Mr. Money and he'll just feed his way into these girls' panties? But before you know it, the girls start telling him what they want. I really thought I knew these girls, or at least Rebecca. But all of the sudden it's like I'm in a Girls Gone Wild Video. Not to be outdone, I tell the guy to bring ME a cheeseburger. He rolls with it. I guess he figures he'll look like an ass if he tries to ignore me.
Before any of us can finish our beers the guy comes back again. "Can I get you all some more beers?" At this point I'm almost ready to stand up and say something, and if not to the guy, to the girls for being such floozies. But I keep my calm. Rebecca tells him to bring us another round, and HE DOES. Now listen, I know Rebecca is happily married and her friend is in a committed relationship. This is why I don't date. If my girlfriend or wife ever acted like this toward another guy, it would be over. But it seems they all act like this. They can't be trusted.
The guy comes back with more beers, but now he's acting all cool as he just drops them off and wanders off to another table where he's putting on the same act, but this time with guys. I guess he's bi or something.
A bit later the food arrives. I tell the guy, "Hope you can afford all this." He throws out a fake laugh to impress the girls. We start eating, but before we can even get four bites in the guy comes back and asks how we are doing. Give it a rest dude! They aren't going home with you.
We finish our food and, get this... the guy walks over and asks if he can get us anything else. "Oh, I know what you want you dirty son of a bitch," I think to myself. The girls sort of tone it down now. "Oh, no. I think we're ready to go home." The guy finally seems to get the message that they just aren't in to him. So what does he do? He walks back and throws down a piece of paper telling us to pay him. Now that is bold. I've never seen a guy get rejected and throw that one back. This guy's got balls.
What do the girls do? They pay the guy money. Do they have ANY self esteem? They look at me and ask how much I'm putting in. What? Let me get this straight... you ladies let some guy horn in on you... reject him after he buys you drinks and food... and I have to cover part of this? Seeing as how Rebecca drove, I figured I wouldn't argue with her, so I threw some money on the table. What a night.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
The Awful Feed
Every year a different work team from my department is responsible for fundraising and organizing the Christm... er, Holiday Party for our department. It's often a battle to see who can raise the most money with fundraising and can throw the most elaborate party. The battle for "Oos and Ahs". This year our support staff unit is in charge. They've come up with some pretty clever fundraising tactics. But... they have come up with one event that has forced me back into a life of covert tactics. I am Jason Bourne... James Bond... Maxwell Smart.
For $5 you can have all you can eat waffles. Now, I like waffles, but my stomach doesn't. Throw me a pancake, whip up some French toast, or butter up a sweet croissant with jam and I'm one happy kid. But shove a couple waffles in my stomach and watch me agonize. Taste good. Feels bad.
I intentionally came to work early this morning so I could slip through the back door before they were set up. The bulk of us arrive at 8:00 a.m. I broke in at 7:30... and there they were... waiting. Our breakroom is pretty much the first thing you walk by when you enter the building through the back door. The pack of support staff were standing there waiting for all of us, irons hot. "Waffles?"
They're so nice and I want to be supportive, but my response was short and simple, "Oh no, my name is Sean, but thank you," and slithered to my office a mere 15 feet away from the breakroom. I was lucky. Their supervisor had yet to arrive. These folk were aggressive, but they did not have the power.
Now I was trapped. I ate my banana. I sipped from my water bottle, but I needed more. I waited until 8:00, called my co-worker, and suggested we go for a hot chocolate. She took my offer, but now I needed to get to her office. I could hear my co-workers being picked off, one by one, as they entered through the door. I could hear them gasp for air as the support staff water boarded them with waffles and syrup. I opened my door and peaked around the corner. It was clear. I walked the opposite direction at double speed. I didn't look back as I heard the back door open behind me, and the haunting, "Waffles?" SNAG! "Gasp!"
The layout of our building looks like a giant pound sign with one additional hall in the middle.
I worked my way over to the middle hallway, grabbed my co-worker, and we made our way to Starbucks. We made our order and came back in through the side door. I worked my way down to the back hallway which gave me a direct view into the breakroom from a distance. Those poor people. My co-workers were shackled to the tables as the support staff shoveled the waffles into their mouths, and then squirt syrup over their faces. At this point the support staff supervisor had made it to the feeding. She stood in the hallway intersection and ordered people into the breakroom. You had no choice. Say no, and feel the wrath. I took an immediate turn back into the middle hallway. I would have to work my way back the same way I had come.
I stuck my head around the corner to see if the hallway was clear. It was. I turned the corner, walking light as to not make a sound. I could hear the supervisor coming back to the intersection. I ducked into the state office copy room and held my back tight against the wall. I heard the back door open and another victim dragged in against their will. The hallway was clear again. I rushed to the House Arrest office, and dove in as the supervisor made her way back to the intersection. I was one door away from my office. I leaned out into the hallway, just enough for my left eye to see what was happening. The supervisor opened the back door, stuck her head out, looked left, looked right, came back inside and shouted out, "there's more coming, get ready!" She popped back into the breakroom for a moment. This might be my last chance.
With full speed, and little care for damaged property, I jumped into the hallway, took a few steps, and fell into my office. I quickly turned and shut my door as quietly as possible. I could hear the back door open, followed by a series of screams. I couldn't save them. I couldn't even warn those who knew not what awaited them. I could only listen to the feeding. Our office would never be the same.
Like all things terrifying, the feeding eventually came to an end. The cries from syrup drizzled chins slowly came to a hush. The breakroom emptied. It was safe again. I slowly opened my door and listened. The horror had died. I cautiously walked out into the hallway. I made my way down the center hall where the majority of my co-workers held office. I looked into each office as I made my way down the hall. The story was the same in every office. Bodies hunched over their keyboards. Arms were hung down with hands nearly touching the floor. Some would attempt to raise their hand as if signaling for help. I could do nothing for them. Some still had syrup surrounding their upper lips. They're tongues curling around the upper lip in one last attempt to taste the sweet nectar of Mrs. Butterworth.
These people would be worthless for hours. If the Chinese were to attack, now would be the time. I, however, was safe. I had survived... the Waffle Apocalypse.
For $5 you can have all you can eat waffles. Now, I like waffles, but my stomach doesn't. Throw me a pancake, whip up some French toast, or butter up a sweet croissant with jam and I'm one happy kid. But shove a couple waffles in my stomach and watch me agonize. Taste good. Feels bad.
I intentionally came to work early this morning so I could slip through the back door before they were set up. The bulk of us arrive at 8:00 a.m. I broke in at 7:30... and there they were... waiting. Our breakroom is pretty much the first thing you walk by when you enter the building through the back door. The pack of support staff were standing there waiting for all of us, irons hot. "Waffles?"
They're so nice and I want to be supportive, but my response was short and simple, "Oh no, my name is Sean, but thank you," and slithered to my office a mere 15 feet away from the breakroom. I was lucky. Their supervisor had yet to arrive. These folk were aggressive, but they did not have the power.
Now I was trapped. I ate my banana. I sipped from my water bottle, but I needed more. I waited until 8:00, called my co-worker, and suggested we go for a hot chocolate. She took my offer, but now I needed to get to her office. I could hear my co-workers being picked off, one by one, as they entered through the door. I could hear them gasp for air as the support staff water boarded them with waffles and syrup. I opened my door and peaked around the corner. It was clear. I walked the opposite direction at double speed. I didn't look back as I heard the back door open behind me, and the haunting, "Waffles?" SNAG! "Gasp!"
The layout of our building looks like a giant pound sign with one additional hall in the middle.
I worked my way over to the middle hallway, grabbed my co-worker, and we made our way to Starbucks. We made our order and came back in through the side door. I worked my way down to the back hallway which gave me a direct view into the breakroom from a distance. Those poor people. My co-workers were shackled to the tables as the support staff shoveled the waffles into their mouths, and then squirt syrup over their faces. At this point the support staff supervisor had made it to the feeding. She stood in the hallway intersection and ordered people into the breakroom. You had no choice. Say no, and feel the wrath. I took an immediate turn back into the middle hallway. I would have to work my way back the same way I had come.
I stuck my head around the corner to see if the hallway was clear. It was. I turned the corner, walking light as to not make a sound. I could hear the supervisor coming back to the intersection. I ducked into the state office copy room and held my back tight against the wall. I heard the back door open and another victim dragged in against their will. The hallway was clear again. I rushed to the House Arrest office, and dove in as the supervisor made her way back to the intersection. I was one door away from my office. I leaned out into the hallway, just enough for my left eye to see what was happening. The supervisor opened the back door, stuck her head out, looked left, looked right, came back inside and shouted out, "there's more coming, get ready!" She popped back into the breakroom for a moment. This might be my last chance.
With full speed, and little care for damaged property, I jumped into the hallway, took a few steps, and fell into my office. I quickly turned and shut my door as quietly as possible. I could hear the back door open, followed by a series of screams. I couldn't save them. I couldn't even warn those who knew not what awaited them. I could only listen to the feeding. Our office would never be the same.
Like all things terrifying, the feeding eventually came to an end. The cries from syrup drizzled chins slowly came to a hush. The breakroom emptied. It was safe again. I slowly opened my door and listened. The horror had died. I cautiously walked out into the hallway. I made my way down the center hall where the majority of my co-workers held office. I looked into each office as I made my way down the hall. The story was the same in every office. Bodies hunched over their keyboards. Arms were hung down with hands nearly touching the floor. Some would attempt to raise their hand as if signaling for help. I could do nothing for them. Some still had syrup surrounding their upper lips. They're tongues curling around the upper lip in one last attempt to taste the sweet nectar of Mrs. Butterworth.
These people would be worthless for hours. If the Chinese were to attack, now would be the time. I, however, was safe. I had survived... the Waffle Apocalypse.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
More Thoughts From My Phone's Notes
2/20/2011 - The big dumb swede goes to cuban family dinner (movie idea I had after spending an evening in a house full of Spanish speaking Cubans and watching Rick launch an entire pan full of beans, rice, and pork on the floor)
(That same night) - Garlic lemon and salt for cuban meat (had to make sure I remembered the hostess' cooking secret)
3/12/2011 - Rick's a scaredy fuck tart. (I apologize for the harsh language, but he was that night)
3/15/2011 - Find an AA group to do marathons with so you can get all their drink tickets at the end of the race.
3/15/2011 - With my bag and my dog and my car (i broke into a mad rap with these lyrics at a beer tasting festival in regards to a somebody I used to know. It became a big hit... nn-t, nn-t, nn-t...)
3/16/2011 - No more theramin (came to my mind during the opening band during a DEVO concert. The band took the cowbell concept to a whole new level with the theramin)
3/18/2011 - Bump the junk (no idea)
3/25/2011 - Anonymous Friend: She's drinking tequila. She'll have her hands down your pants.
Me: Huh uh, I have a belt on.
3/25/2011 - Texting is like women on their periods. You can go weeks without anything and then you use up all your minutes in one night. ( I honestly have no idea where this came from and what it means)
4/8/2011 - Ricky gotta sippy cup. (in regards to the little glasses served at Horse Brass)
(Later that night) - Me (to Rick): How is it you know who every single hot young actress that nobody has ever heard of is?
Rick: I have cable.
4/9/2011 - (Overheard from a lady at the table next to me) It smells like frozen child care.
(Later that night at a concert) - Why are their conductors? Why not just have somebody from the Ramones just yell out, "1-2-3-4!" and let them play?
4/10/2011 - Purple fleece grey hat blonde (After going to my friends' kids' football game this morning and spotting a nice looking, single woman who I didn't have the guts to go speak to, but thought I'd post some ad on Craigslist Missed Connections)
(That same night) - Garlic lemon and salt for cuban meat (had to make sure I remembered the hostess' cooking secret)
3/12/2011 - Rick's a scaredy fuck tart. (I apologize for the harsh language, but he was that night)
3/15/2011 - Find an AA group to do marathons with so you can get all their drink tickets at the end of the race.
3/15/2011 - With my bag and my dog and my car (i broke into a mad rap with these lyrics at a beer tasting festival in regards to a somebody I used to know. It became a big hit... nn-t, nn-t, nn-t...)
3/16/2011 - No more theramin (came to my mind during the opening band during a DEVO concert. The band took the cowbell concept to a whole new level with the theramin)
3/18/2011 - Bump the junk (no idea)
3/25/2011 - Anonymous Friend: She's drinking tequila. She'll have her hands down your pants.
Me: Huh uh, I have a belt on.
3/25/2011 - Texting is like women on their periods. You can go weeks without anything and then you use up all your minutes in one night. ( I honestly have no idea where this came from and what it means)
4/8/2011 - Ricky gotta sippy cup. (in regards to the little glasses served at Horse Brass)
(Later that night) - Me (to Rick): How is it you know who every single hot young actress that nobody has ever heard of is?
Rick: I have cable.
4/9/2011 - (Overheard from a lady at the table next to me) It smells like frozen child care.
(Later that night at a concert) - Why are their conductors? Why not just have somebody from the Ramones just yell out, "1-2-3-4!" and let them play?
4/10/2011 - Purple fleece grey hat blonde (After going to my friends' kids' football game this morning and spotting a nice looking, single woman who I didn't have the guts to go speak to, but thought I'd post some ad on Craigslist Missed Connections)
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