The Bells

I love talking to LDL on gchat on an almost daily basis. In fact, when I can't find her online - you know, cause she has other things going on besides sitting at her computer - I find myself in a bad mood with no outlet for my daily stories. She thinks I'm funny and I need that.

In the midst of all our moving, traveling, learning, and adventuring, we are also brainstorming on ways to make our mark in the world outside of our days jobs (mothering & engineering - LDL wins that battle). I, like twenty bazillion other people, would like to one day write a book. Not even a novel and definitely not The Next Great American Novel, but rather a small book of short stories or vignettes based on real-life.

Fast forward to the past couple of months, when my already lackluster hearing has taken a turn for the worst. It's not a funny situation to be in and I am sure there will be posts about the annoyances that occur from that later. But for now, the stories that happen to me because I can't hear much are pretty funny. The following is today's conversation with LDL.

 me:  well - one hilarious thing

do you know that I only have one bowl big enough for mixing?

 ldl:  i did not - seems you should get another bowl

 me:  so I mix dry ingredients in a ziplock and then slowly add them to the wet ones occupying my one bowl

 ldl:  hahahahaha

you should blog about that

 me:  and I use the same ziplock

 ldl:  though it surprises me, being the tree hugger you claim to be

 me:  I know. I have so many stories to tell

 ldl:  oh, that helps

 me:  me:  and I use the same ziplock

 ldl:  got it

i think it is ziploc btw

 me:  so. . . sometimes things have a little baking soda/powder/brown sugar etc and it's not supposed to

patatoe potato

here is what is REALLY hilarious

I was at jamba juice yesterday (after having spent an hour at the post office - but I did make the surly clerk laugh)

and I ordered a strawberry smoothie

the clerk behind the counter then asked me "can I have your number?"

I was SO taken a back

 ldl:  oh my gosh

 me:  aback? one word?

 ldl:  you thought he was asking for your phone number

WAS HE!?

 me:  and I said - "um. no."

 ldl:  no idea, get on with the story

 me:  and he said "well, what else can I get you?"

we are both very confused

turns out he actually said "does that complete your order"

 ldl:  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

how did that end up turning out????

i mean, its not funny that you can't hear - but that is stinking hilarious

taylor

 me:  he gave me a survey to fill out - I can win a "buy one get one free" smoothie

It's Raining Men (Every Specimen?) Part Two

I thought I had outgrown the old (and unnecessary) "Leave room for Jesus" warning from various school dance chaperone's and my Dad. Dad taught me the most perfect way to thwart unwanted closeness regardless of respective strength. Try this with me now. Bend your arm so that it it 90 degrees to your hip. Place your elbow directly on your hip bone. Hold steady. Now have a buddy try to push closer while in typical school dance posture. Brilliant right?

Never did I think I would need this move as a 20-something while out dancing and hanging with my friends. Here we go.

THE TOUCHER - "don't give me no lines and keep your hands to yourself"
Even before I moved to San Francisco I had heard that the Mission neighborhood was an awesome place to head out for dinner, but that I probably wouldn't feel "cool enough" to actually live there. After all, even though I own a pair of skinny jeans and have long been a fan of Chuck Taylor's, I very rarely wear them together. I have my sister LDL and her "toothpicks in a bucket" comment to thank for that. But when I got a tweet/text from an old friend from college telling me that she and her bridal/bachelorette party had finished with their tour of Napa and had moved on to 16th street, I put on some shoes, grabbed my Clipper card and headed out the door. Truthfully, I would have gone anywhere for a chance to catch up with JMH.

JMH and her posse of hilariously fun women were hanging out at a small establishment called Double Dutch. It's one of those places where the long and narrow entrance lends itself perfectly to the crowded bar and then dance floor layout (not unlike Roberts' in Nashville). After jamming out for a while the whole group was in need of refreshments. Since I was getting a bit claustropobic on the dance floor, I ventured out to the bar. While trying to purchase a few tasty adult beverages a member of the JMH posse (and a new pal of mine) saunters over and challenges me to see if I can get someone else to pay. This is not my game. I am terrible at this game. I would MUCH rather fork over my hard earned cash than have to pretend to be interested. But I accidentally made eye contact, my new friend was fired up and thus began the slippery slope.

With our ice cold drinks (paid for by me) and followed by two new, eager young men, we head back to the dance floor. Man in the red shirt had a signature move. It's called "let me see if I can grope you without you hitting me". Since this is a family oriented blog, I'll leave it at that. But it was awful and he did it to everyone. At once point, I was sandwiched between him and his collection of eager friends, saved only by my ability to slip through small spaces like I was coated with vaseline. Also, I have a pretty mean right hook. JMH and the posse thought it was pretty hysterical. I'm sure the distraught and exasperated look on my face was awesome. But alas, the night was ending, the bouncer was escorting us out and our new red shirted friend was sticking a little too close for comfort.

And then, JMH reared back, turned to old red shirt and said "YOU need to watch your hands". He recoiled, confused and embarrassed and then reached for my waist to hug me close. +see beginning paragraph for my next move+ Caught off guard by my swift reflexes he tried again, this time from behind me and told JMH "it's what you girls want. It's why you dance." And then FIRE shot out of her eyesockets and she said. . . .

Well, actually, that's Bill Cosby's line. But you get the point. Girlfriends Unite: 1 Red Shirt Posse: negative one billion.

It's Raining Men (Hallelujah?) Part One

First things first: Nothing has changed in my personal life and I definitely am not trying to go all Elizabeth Taylor out here on the West Coast. I've never really been a fan of giant jewelry. That being said, I realized while sharing a few of my most recent stories with LDL that they all involve some kind of bizarro conversation with a strange man. I've done my best to categorize them.

THE GAMBLER - "know when to walk away; know when to run"

Recently I was invited to an event by a member of senior management for my company. It was hosted by the Asian American Society of Architects and Engineers. The event included dinner (Chinese) and a speaker who happened to be the project manager for an upcoming $4.6 billion sewer reconstruction project. The goal was to present a good image about our company. I'm the token "diverse engineer" (as a white female - duh). Anyway, during the meet and greet mingling session everyone jostled for a place between the presenter's table in the front of the room and the bar. Being the crazy observant person that I am (it's not normal to locate an exit immediately?), I spot an unfortunate looking character. He is definitely passed middle age, shorter than 5'8", wearing an old school Texas-style string neck tie, transition glasses midway through transitioning and a hat that is best described as a cross between a cowboy hat and one used by fishermen. Flaps tied up obviously. I've sketched a picture: please remember I am an artist by desire only.

So this man "Walter" saddles up next to my manager, a co-worker and myself and begins selling his trade. Ignoring me. Turns out he is a "private consultant" looking to be paid by the hour for engineering work. It was clear he did not think I was important enough to impress and bypassed me when handing out his business card. As he was leaving, he scooted up behind me and whispered in my right ear. Immediately I am two things: Perturbed and Losing. Because he is speaking into an ear that hasn't worked in 27 years it appears by my body language (turned toward him, neck arched, reading lips) that I am actually interested in what he is saying. What's really happening is that I am listening intently, desperate not to accidentally volunteer for something. What follows is a series of questions that I deem totally inappropriate and so I lie. I lie easily. It's scary how easy it was to make things up. It saved me this time but oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive. Self-defense is excusable right?

Gambler: What's your name? How old are you? Where do you live? Do you have roommates? What are your favorite places to go? Can I look you up on your firm's website? I notice you aren't wearing a ring - good thing for guys like me. Have you ever been to The Starlight Lounge? I'm there practically every night. I'd love to take you to dinner there. No? Huh. Okay, well if you change your mind or just want to stop by it is located - location conveniently forgotten. Enjoy your evening. Here is my card in case you want to get in touch. Extra long gaze into my eyes and purposeful finger graze. I threw up in my mouth a bit.

It's funny how when he was looking for work he didn't have enough business cards to hand one to me but when he is looking for company at the Starlight Lounge he has plenty. Gross.

So that's it folks. Just another day in the life of a young(ish) engineer, desperate to break free of cubicle land.