So There.

I just stumbled across something I wrote back in April of 2008.  I ended up in another relationship shortly after this and while it wasn’t the worst relationship ever, it wasn’t the best.  After that relationship ended in December 2009, I vowed to stay single for the entirety of 2010 – no boyfriends.  And now, having actually met a New Year’s resolution for once, I can say that this writing from almost three years ago has never rung more true to me than it does now.  🙂

“I disregard the proportions, the measures, the tempo of the ordinary world. I refuse to live in the ordinary world as ordinary women. To enter ordinary relationships. I want ecstasy. I am a neurotic — in the sense that I live in my world. I will not adjust myself to the world. I am adjusted to myself.”
– Anais Nin

This quote means so much to me. This quote is me.

Last night, I was out with some great friends and body image came up somehow. One of my friends told me I was “okay” and “fine.” And I cried. No joke, I fucking cried.

Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the mojitos, maybe it was the breakup or the fact that I still don’t have a job. Who knows. I felt silly that I cried. When I got home, I sat on the back stoop and asked myself (out loud like a champ) why that got to me so much. And then I realized that it is because he (c’mon, you know who, don’t ruin my flow) made me feel ordinary, okay, fine.

Well, I say fuck that. I don’t want to be fine. I want to be fabulous. I don’t want to be okay. I want to be extraordinary. And I am. Because I said so.

So it was silly to cry and I apologized to my friend who really didn’t mean it the way he said it – really, he’s a great friend. But, it wasn’t silly because now I have a conviction that I didn’t have before. I didn’t realize how ordinary he (ya know, him again) had made me feel. I don’t ever want to settle for that again. I’m not ordinary, I’m fucking fantastic.

So there.



Response to Happy Holidays on Cafe Darkness

My good friend and partner in crime, Cafe Darkness, wrote a post today where all she does is bitch and moan about the worst OR most annoying things related to Christmas and the holidays. To knock her scrooginess, I decided to write a post on the BEST 5 things about The Holidays.

Find her list here.


1) Parties. I like to party. I like to dress up. I have a lot of cute dresses, I like glitter and heels that are way too tall to be appropriate around family and bright red lipstick and martinis and drinking and having fun (and having casual sex) and all of these things happen more plentifully around Christmas. Yay! Let’s party!

2) Champagne. Kind of a spin-off to #1 but deserves it’s own category. I have NO idea what it is about Christmastime, but I swear to God every single event I attend, whether it’s a casual brunch or a sit down dinner, has an abundance of champagne. I like champagne. See how this works out?

3) Tacky Christmas Decor. While your mom and Martha Stewart are putting up pine garland and plaid bows, I’m pulling out the glitter, the snowflakes, the colored lights, the tinsel trees and the pink, green, blue, purple, yellow and teal ornaments and hanging them from my kitchen doorway, living room ceiling and pretty much wherever else I want. It’s like Ke$ha decorated my apartment. Or a very drunk Cafe Darkness.

4) Presents. Who doesn’t like to get presents? I picked up a new road bike this morning that my mom bought for me (or will pay me back for) and I am already pleased about that. Holler!

5) Snow. Heavy snow means I get out of work which means I can go out to bars locally and have snowball fights. If you don’t like that, you like the devil and I don’t think I want to be friends with you anyway.

Mr. Big Stuff

Mr. Bigstuff, who do u think u are?
Mr. Bigstuff, you’re never gonna get my love

In the words of Miss Aretha Franklin, who do you think you are?  I can’t believe the audacity of some people.  As a bartender, we get all kinds of crazy walking in from day to day.  We also get regulars, make friends and come to know and love our nights behind the bar like our living rooms.  It’s cozy and comfortable and we like to entertain our friends.  But these relationships can take time.  I’m not saying you can’t hit it off with your bartender in one night, but you don’t just saunter in like you own the damn place after one encounter.  At least not if you expect anything from your bartender, like good service, special attention or a hook up on your tab.

Well, I had a guy break this unspoken rule at happy hour yesterday while I was behind the bar.  I came into my shift to find him at the end of the bar sitting fat and happy with a beer and a stack of money in front of him.  The woman directly to his right was drinking an appletini, which I don’t understand because I don’t work in a martini type of joint, but I digress.  The man pays for a couple more rounds for the both of them, paying as he goes in cash and not leaving any of that wad on the bar for yours truly.  Thanks, man.  You are really setting the stage for specialized service by not tipping me.  Anyway, he waves me over and says, “Don’t you guys ever buy a drink for people around here?  I think you should buy my next beer.”  Me: blank stare.  I mean, are you out of your damn mind?  Who do you think you are and how dare you tell me that I should be buying your beer when you haven’t exactly done me any favors and I’ve never seen you before in my life?

I ended up telling the guy that I would not buy him a beer and that if he wanted drinks bought for him, he could befriend the owner.  Well, little did I think that he would actually approach the owner in this manner, but he walks up to him and interrupts him in the middle of a conversation with friends and tells the owner of the bar that he needs a drink bought for him.  He also mentions that I wouldn’t buy one for him and how that pisses him off.  The owner, naturally, is curious as to why he should buy this audacious asshat a beer at all, let alone after being told point blank that he had to.  This guy’s response was that he was owed a beer on the bar’s tab because he had spent (and I quote) “forty fucking dollars.”  Oh.  Okay.  $40.  What a baller.  You’re just like everyone else who sits in a bar for three hours buying drinks for two.  Get over yourself.  Your tab was not *that* high and you’re also not tipping anyone.

Anyway, this guy had it coming to him after he called the owner a cheap mother fucker.  Whoops.  Lead into two big drunk men screaming at each other and flailing their arms and you’ve got yourself one heck of a happy hour scene.  Oy!  It was a mess.  The owner finally bought him a cheep beer and the guy still wasn’t pleased so he ended up “taking his $40 elsewhere, dammit.”  Good riddance.  Keep your money.

Soooooo…why am I telling this long twisted tale of rude bar behavior?  Because I can’t imagine ever telling someone I had just met that they needed to buy my drink because I had spent some average bit of money.  So, don’t do that.  Okay?  Thanks.  Let me get to know who you are, whether it’s over the course of an evening or after multiple visits.  Make sure I know your name and you know mine and be nice to me and tip me well.  And then, yes, I will offer to buy you a drink sometime.


Don’t Date Me

I had a first date last night.  It’s the second real first date I’ve had this year and I’m pretty sure I screwed it up.  Usually, it’s the stupid guys I go out with that make things awkward, but I’m pretty sure I took home the trophy last night.

We were to meet around 8-ish (I threw the “ish” in there because I am always late and “ish” is a great CYA tactic.) at a great restaurant in Carytown.  I was running late (again, pretend you are surprised at that) and actually had to field a text message AND a phone call from my gent asking if I was still planning on attending said first date.  Whoops.  Sorry.  So I showed up 20-ish minutes late and apologized a lot and hoped he was still planning on being even remotely nice to me.

As it turns out, he was.  He opened the door for me and everything!  (Hooray for high expectations!)  Anyway, dinner was great.  The food was amazing and the conversation flowed as freely as the red wine.  All was looking up until after dinner when we decided to meet a bunch of my psychopathic best friends out at the local watering hole.  I was worried about bringing him out around them because they are huge drinkers and all my fears and hesitations were soon confirmed.  Not just because they were crazy (they were) but because they make me crazy too (I was.)  I drank a little (lot) too much, I probably ignored him half the time (for which I am truly very sorry) and I sang karaoke with a cracked sickly voice as if that’s something to be really proud of.  I’m pretty sure I would regret more of my behavior if I could actually remember all of it.

That said, I’m hoping that maybe there is an off chance that these antics could be perceived as “cute” somehow or maybe my date has a minor mental imbalance that allows this to be seen as normal date behavior and he’ll want to ask me out again.

If the answer is yes, that would be pretty cool.  Second dates are good, especially with attractive, respectful and successful men.  If not, I will understand and sit back on my throne as the Princess of Crazytown until some other gentleman decides he’d love to be disappointed by my company.

In other news…

I think I might start Operation: Get Your Shit Together soon.  Maybe today.  I could probably use a little more balance and this half marathon I’m signing up for in March ain’t gonna run itself!

I have 2 hours between the day job and my bartending gig.  I think I will spend it at the tanning salon because I’m starting to gross myself out with how pale I am.  I would break in my new cross trainers, but uh… it’s raining (read: I’m lazy).

I have some yummy recipes I’m going to be posting soon on the PG blog:  Can’t wait to talk about them!

Oh, and lastly, I started a new blog!  Hi.