Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Tipping etiquette - curbside takeaway debate

So, yesterday, I decide to treat myself to a little curbside takeaway at the local Outback Steakhouse. I've discovered that you can get a child-sized portion of steak in the restaurant, but they tack an additional $2 on for an adult fee (or something stupid like that). If you order it over the phone, they don't. So, for just under $10, I had a child-size (probably 6 or 8 oz) steak, potatoes, a teeny-tiny drink, and a salad. I paid cash, and they brought my change (from a $20) out in a $5 and five $1s. I gave the curbside girl a dollar. And now I'm wondering if I cheaped out.
My debate is this - all they did was write it down, and then walk back and forth to my car. A dollar seems to be generous when it was a single person, not picky (not like when I order burgers from them), and under $10.
The other side of this is that I get into constant debates with people about Starbucks and whether one should tip there. As a former partner, I firmly believe in tipping at Starbucks. But that is because Starbucks beverages are a custom-made beverage, and, if you are a regular, the baristas get to know you and your drink(s), so it warrants tipping. I also usually just drop the spare change from orders, and about once a week (from my morning work run) drop an extra dollar in. Starbucks tipping averages go down when everyone uses their debit card or pre-loaded gift card, so that's another thing to keep in mind.
But do the curbside people warrant generous tipping? I just don't know.
(and, keep in mind, I'm generous with waitstaff in actual restaurants.)

Sunday, May 28, 2006

Why being online sometimes sucks...

I've rediscovered why I shouldn't read my brother John's blog...
because, invariably, every few months, I stumble onto the goings-on of my ex, S.
S is the one I was dating when I moved here. The one I refer to as either "the alcoholic" or "the drug addict". Because, sadly, he was (is?) both.
S was a friend of my brother's who I really met online. He and I had apparently met in person previously before we met online, but I was too cool to remember him.
Anyway, during my second time in LA, I got into LiveJournal through my brother. I had a journal that I updated pretty regularly (I had a temp job during which I had more time than actual work). I wrote regularly, checked my brother's regularly, and made "friends" with people that way. Plus, some of my social life then was tied in with my brother and his set. We are only 14 months / 2 school years apart in age, and as he had stayed in the city of our youth, was still plugged in socially with a lot of people. Plus, he's always been sort of "cool" and it follows that his social occasions (parties, etc) would also be hip and happening.
S was a drunk, and my brother knew that. But never put up a lot of objections to us dating. S was self-loathing, but he was brilliant. He wrote very funny stuff, was quite witty, was really into music, and quite a storyteller. He also had a self-destructive streak larger than his self-preservation instincts. When we were dating, we watched movies, listened to music, and talked. We wrote each other emails and blog entries and the like. And he fell in love with me quite early on.
I asked him to please not do drugs, and he mostly complied, as least while I was living out there. He still drank, daily, and in ways that make me uncomfortable to think about now. He had stories of debauchery and partying that amused and scared me.
S was what I now refer to as the "drunk poet", a type that worships Hunter S Thompson, Charles Bukowski, and others who glorify living altered and "defiant".
I don't truly know how defiant and rebellious and counter-cultural it really is to spend your rent money on vodka, and your grocery money on stolen prescription pills. It strikes me, a goody-goody "straight" kid from the get-go, as sad and pathetic.
But I loved S, I truly did. The brilliance of his mind really won me over. But I had to work at it, and that was difficult. And then I took my job out here, and we tried to keep it going long-distance (which is, as we all know, ultimately stupid). My mom paid for him to visit me, and then I flew out there to visit him. And when I got there, he was already drunk, and tried to break up with me. I told him I didn't fly 2000 miles to break up, and made him take it back. We spent the weekend together, and I came back here. (it just dawned on me that he visited me Memorial Day weekend 2002, 4 years ago. I went out there on Labor Day weekend.) We broke up over the phone in October, kept talking, and then I finally broke up with him, once and for all, in February. I had moved on.
But, because he was who he was, he would occasionally call and leave me sad messages. Or he would occasionally send me emails. After we first broke up, I'd check his LJ to see how he was doing, and find out things you wouldn't want to know (and be shocked that he had the balls to post those stories on the Internet, things about being high and screwing annoying co-workers and stuff along those lines.) And, because he was still friends with my brother, I would find out that he was still alive, and super-ultra-mega-self-destructive. And, then, last summer, while I was working at B's office while waiting out my non-compete, I found out, through a link on my brother's LJ that S had devolved into a massive coke habit, along with the drinking and smoking. I don't think I could adequately describe the feeling of illness that hit me when I read his stories of coking and whoring and losing his job and losing his apartment. I had another round of nausea-inducing reading in the fall/winter, and actually dropped him a line, anonymously, during which he invited me to get AIDS and screw pigs, until he found out who was posting him anonymously, and then apologized.
When we were together, my brother once said to me that he always thought S was trying to kill himself. I didn't really understand it until later, but it's the truth.
Anyway, what prompted this ex-BF reminisce was being on my brother's LJ today, and finding a post that S and his hetero-life-mate Tony have relocated to Portland, Oregon. The city that I have always said would be the city I would move to if I could. I miss the west coast, and Portland has always struck me as a great city. I have uncles there, and still a few friends (acquaintances, I guess, at this point) who were and are in bands around that city.
But now S is there. And my world has always been a VERY SMALL world. The universe where worlds collide and people from 1000's of miles away and lifetimes ago appear in odd places. Heck, and this is absolutely true, I am only 3 degrees from Kevin Bacon.
I don't know what to do with this information, other than post it and let my subconscious post it.
It has got me thinking of men in my past. Actually, I've flashed back to men in my past, the Oregon edition. Two guys whose names started with K, the two who both broke my heart. Or the guys in the bands I was friends with who I crushed on. The semi-celibacy of my Oregon years, and the growth I experienced living there.
I'm rambling, it's about 85 degrees indoors in the bookstore, and I need to rehydrate and pee.
Happy memorial day weekend. Hope you are cooking out and having a good time!

Thursday, May 25, 2006

Hair dryers of my mind

While I was taking an (unusual) afternoon bath & shower just now, I started thinking of hair dryers.

My parents aren't very image conscious people, and my mom has always had simple hairstyles - long and easy or short and easy. When I was small, we had a blow dryer. It was black, hard plastic and was kept in a storage case. It had attachments - a directing nozzle, a comb, and a brush. It was rarely used. I remember a babysitter (whose name is lost to history) from when it was just me and JD, in Woodland Hills, saying that I shouldn't use that hair dryer, as it was a man's hair dryer. In all honesty, it probably came into the household with my dad - he was a VERY clean-cut guy when my folks met (you should see some pictures).

When I lived with my great-grandmother, Gram, she had a completely different kind of hair dryer - a bonnet, like a shower cap, that you placed over your whole head. If you put it on, you couldn't hear anything but whooshing around you. It was probably designed for roller sets, but I was a little kid with long and easily tangled hair, so we sometimes put that bonnet on my head to get my hair dry after my bath.

My aunt Cathie had the "real" women's blow dryer, with a nozzle and switches and the whole she-bang. That's probably the first place i ever used a woman's hair dryer, other than having my hair styled post-haircut at the SuperCuts or whatever place mom took us to.

The first blow dryer I ever owned myself came courtesy of my Aunt Victoria, when we were roommates. She had gone on a date (with the man who is now her husband) to the horse races, and they had won. And with her winnings, she bought me a hair dryer. Because she lived together, and she knew I needed one. It was one of the most thoughtful and surprising gifts. And I had that dryer for a long time. At one point before my sister Colleen came to live iwth me, I thought it had died, and bought a replacement dryer at Target. When Colleen moved in, she revived that hair dryer, and it lived in her bathroom. When I was dating B, I took that dryer to his place, and left it there, so I could actually make my hair look decent if I bathed there.

As a little kid, you don't care about your hair so much, as long as it is (relatively) clean and not in your way too much. And when my hair was long, I didn't need to blow dry it to make it do something - ponytails were great. But I keep my hair shorter now, and a blow dryer is key.

I don't know that there was a point to this, other than I remembered the weird blow dryers of my youth. I guess it is about memory lane, and the weird details we remember.

I haven't had my nap yet, and it is over 90 degrees outside. I'm going to lay down and enjoy some rest.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

we should all have this problem....

we should all have this problem....

http://www.newsoftheworld.co.uk/story_pages/news/news4.shtml?hairtrigger
EDITION: Sunday, 21st May 2006

REAL (SEX) LIFE EXCLUSIVE STORIES
I HAVE 250 ORGASMS A DAY (and it's a scream)

By Matthew Acton & Rachel Spencer

SEXY Ellie Allen is a girl who just can't say no— because she's too busy saying Yes...Yes...YES!

The pretty brunette suffers from a rare but genuine medical condition that means she has up to 250 orgasms a DAY.

It's called Permanent Sexual Arousal Syndrome—PSAS.

But Ellie isn't moaning—in fact she can see the funny side of her complaint.

"Men brag that they'd love a woman who can't stop climaxing," she laughed. "But I struggle to find partners who can keep up with me."

And no wonder. The slightest thing can make the earth move for Ellie.

The throb of a BUS engine, driving over SPEED BUMPS, the purr of a LAWN MOWER, even the rhythmic motion of a PHOTOCOPIER!

Ellie, 28, told us: "People think having orgasms all the time must be brilliant—but they look at me like I'm some kind of nutter because I'm always having to stifle my sighs or scurry off for a private moment."

The first time Ellie had an orgasm on a crowded bus, her fellow passengers were seriously alarmed.

"The engine was making the vehicle shake and suddenly I felt an unbearable tingling, my back arched and my body jerked sharply as I peaked," she recalled.

"Everyone was staring like I was having some kind of fit as I finally yelled out. I simply couldn't help myself. An old lady asked me what was wrong and I had to pretend I'd stubbed my toe."

Now Ellie relies on lifts from understanding friends...

"If there's a road with several speed humps then I'll be off by the time we've crossed the last one," she confessed. "I don't drive very often. When I pull up just the vibrations are enough to set me off.

"That led to my most embarrassing moment—when a policeman stopped me for sneaking through traffic lights on amber.

"By the time he got to my window I was already pretty flustered. He said, ‘You know why I've pulled you over, don't you?'

"I was bright red in the face and knew if I opened my mouth I'd have to moan or cry out as I was actually coming at that stage.

"So I just nodded and pretended to have a coughing fit, but it was pretty high pitched.

"He made me get out of the car and my legs felt really weak because I'd only just climaxed.

"They almost went from under me and he thought I was drunk so he breathalysed me!

"But once I'd composed myself I flirted with him a bit and got away with a ticking-off."

Although PSAS is a physical disorder, causing increased blood flow to the sex organs, doctors know little about what triggers it.

There is no cure. Sufferers enjoy, or endure, up to 300 orgasms a day without warning. The condition gradually crept up on Ellie after she first had sex at 17.

"I was like most girls at first and didn't always climax," she said. "It didn't really bother me. I always enjoyed sex but it wasn't something that ruled my life.

"I've never been promiscuous. And I used to find lengthy sex sessions that went on for hours a bit boring.

"My orgasms were pretty run of the mill then. They'd last half a minute or so. But between the age of 18 and 20 they got more and more frequent.

Ecstasy

"Occasionally, every few months I'd have multiple orgasms but not all the time. Now I can't stop. I'm aroused from the moment I wake up.

"My boobs are swollen, I get this throbbing feeling and I'm desperate to climax.

"When I do it calms me down for a little while, but soon afterwards it begins again."

Everyday activities that most of us take for granted are a minefield for Cambridge art gallery assistant Ellie.

"Out shopping I can be set off just by the vibration of people's footsteps," she revealed.

"Lifts and stairs are unbearable.

"I can't work in an office because even ringing phones and humming photo-copiers do it. Gardening puts me into spasms every time I bend over and the throb of the lawnmower sparks a climax.

"And furious dancing in clubs is obviously out.

"One day I was trying to clear a blocked drain. The stench was disgusting but as soon as I started wiggling the rod about to shift the blockage, I was crying out in ecstasy!

"I don't count how many orgasms I reach a day but it must be around 250—more on a busy day."

Treatments for PSAS include an anaesthetic gel to numb sensation around the private parts.

But the only concession Ellie makes to her condition is to wear loose clothing to cut down on friction.

She said: "Sex provides me with just a few moments' relief and then the tension builds up again.

"One boyfriend even went on an arduous keep-fit regime in a bid to keep up with me.

"But I still wore him out so badly he ended up in tears and we split. It's more embarrassing when I'm with a new partner because often they think I'm putting on an act and I worry that it scares them off.

"Usually men think it's great at first because they can bring me to orgasm in seconds with any kind of contact.

"But I'm not satisfied and keep on for hours demanding more and more action—and then it gets difficult for them and they end up feeling guilty. But it's not their fault.

"I've discovered that slower, more gentle love-making can leave me a little more satisfied as it takes a bit longer to climax.

"Even then I'm talking a couple of minutes at the most!

"I drink camomile tea to calm me down and I find a few glasses of wine on a night out can help to deaden the urges a bit."

Fortunately Ellie's bosses at the gallery understand her unusual needs. "They know what's happening if I suddenly go red and have to dart off," she said.

"And I certainly serve customers with a smile. Sometimes they just might hear me gasp as well!"

Saturday, May 20, 2006

T-shirts I want to have made...

Don't Shush Me!
because I don't ever want to be in a relationship AGAIN where I am shushed, or made to feel that being my exuberant, talky, laughing self is a bad thing.

(I am) One of the Rudest People
inspired by an awful woman at a movie theatre who told me (and T), "You are some of the rudest people." to this day, we don't know why... because we laughed during a comedy? Whatever. This slogan is another one about owning who we are, and not being apologetic about it.

I know you love me... Get over it.
inspired by a friend who doesn't deal well with men effusively telling her that they care about her. Plus, it's the perfect shirt for when you are feeling totally hot and untouchable. The perfect ego, good hair, good boobs, good tummy, good ass day.... or when you need a boost.

Death begins in the colon
this is from the radio program I work on. One of the hosts, D, has become obsessed with his colon and his mortality, and has been talking - for weeks - about getting a colonic irrigation treatment. colonics are like enemas, but with a modified pressure washer. They supposedly clean out all the detrius that has accumulated in your excretory system, and leave you feeling pounds lighter, and your tummy flatter. but they are gross to talk about. and, every time the topic comes up, D says, "Death begins in the colon." I think the shirt would need to be an oatmeal ringer tee, with brown contrast and brown writing.

I've been thinking about having these made, either on
CustomizedGirl or another place. Unless I can find a silk-screener to make them cheaply. I am having the first 3 made for me and T. If you want one, or can think of other slogans that would rock, let me know.

Friday, May 19, 2006

How would YOU describe me?

Recently, I asked someone whose opinion matters to me to pick one word to describe me. They couldn't find one word, but rather picked three. Two of them I readily own, and one really bothered me. In order of how they were presented to me, here are the words:
Passionate
Insecure
Spunky

I own passionate - I know I get riled up about things and people and ideas and music. I know I sometimes let my energy get ahead of me.

I fully accept spunky. It's been a part of me for a long time, though it's one of those things that I think is so tied into my physicality that it is hard to separate. Am I spunky because I'm short and cute? You don't usually see tall or bigger women described as spunky - it's mainly attributed to those who are shorter in stature and also energetic.

But the insecure thing... that really bothered me. This person actually meant mostly in terms of my career. I've talked to this person a lot about work and what bothers me, and they know I'm not getting the validation I as a person need in my daily work dealings.

Insecurity / neediness / acceptance is an issue I've been working on within myself for years. It's an old demon that I thought I had, for the most part, conquered. I no longer care what total strangers think of me, and I've had the strength to cut off unhealthy friendships ('cause I don't need to be validated by people who don't actually like or respect me). But, the insecurity apparently shines right through, and even this person, who is new in my life, sees it as an integral part of me.

So, my group of personal advisors, what three (or five) words would you use to describe me? I'm trying to get a real picture of who / what I am presenting to the outside world. Only when you are aware of things can you work to change them.

Post back here or email me privately with your thoughts. If you choose, I'll put my thinking cap on and do the same for you.

Monday, May 15, 2006

Friday's Brush with Celebrity

So, country music stars Big & Rich were on-air Friday with the Young & Elder morning show on KIX 106, and since I had met them before, I wanted to get a picture.
When I asked, they said "sure, we love redheads!"

here's my photo with them:


that's Big Kenny (in the funny hat, ducking down) on the left, and John Rich on the right. And that's me grinning in the center. I don't think I've ever looked shorter.

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

I DESERVE

inspired by another quick skimming of my dating bible, "He's Just Not That Into You"...

a few slogans to keep in mind when dating and living one's life:
DON'T WASTE THE PRETTY
Better than nothing isn't good enough
Mixed Messages are a woman's excuse

I DESERVE:
To be treated with respect and dignity.
A man who is proud to be giong out with me.
A man who wants to date me, be seen with me and is willing to tell people about me / us.
To be a priority in someone else's life, not an afterthought.
A man who admits when he's made a mistake.
To be wanted.
To be cherished and adored.
To be complimented (without fishing).
Someone who actually likes me, not who they think I could be.
Surprises (because I love surprises).
Someone who does what they say they are going to do.
To be asked out.
To be asked out 24-48 hours in advance of a potential date.
To be presented with a planned date, not some vague "hanging out".
Advance planning and follow through.
To get a phone call.
To get a phone call during the daylight hours.
To get a return phone call / text, even if it is just to say, "I'm busy, we'll chat later."
Someone who is willing to consider and discuss the future.
To not be shushed (to be the loud, exuberant me that I am).
Someone who orders my favorite drink without asking.


Do you have more suggestions? Please post or email them to me. This is a list I wrote up last night when I was inspired.

added by my dear friend Juan,
to be as central a focus of his life, as he is to mine.

Monday, May 08, 2006

Go Away, B!

why won't B just leave me alone?
Why does he feel the need to email and check up on me?
It's like he's trying to annoy me into not moving on. It's not like I have any interest in getting back together or going back to that life... but, by constantly popping back in, he's keeping me thinking of him and not able to fully move on.
I'm just so frustrated by my life right now...

Sunday, May 07, 2006

Squirrel Suicides and a bad case of the lonelies

I went out to get my morning Soy Latte, and saw at least two different dead squirrels in the middle of the road (not as bad as dead skunks in the middle of the road, but still...). Back when we were in high school, my brother and I would look for roadkill on our drive to school. If we saw roadkill and the car with the naked bitch mudflaps, it was going to be a good day. (high school superstititions)

it is 10:30 am on a Sunday, and my loud-walking upstairs neighbor is playing music, just loud enough for me to hear. It's the new bon jovi song, "Who Says You Can't Go Home?", but i can't tell whether it's the solo or the version with jennifer nettles from Summerland. I'm going to bet it is the country version, as that is the genre she usually plays loud enough for me to recognize.

Friday night, I got unintentionally wasted. The radio show had a live remote at On the Border in Cordova (the suburbs, with one of the big malls), and I had one margarita. On a day with a small lunch and no nap. So, I was buzzed. Enough that the (new) friend A, who met me there, made me leave my car there for our later plans. My friend T also came by, and seemed quite amused as my tipsy antics. I rarely get that way, and I am (as I well admit) one of those people who feels the need to tell you when I'm drunk. A and I went downtown to Beale Street Music Festival (not in time to see Jason Mraz). I tried to get a hold of S, as he lives downtown, right near the park where the music festival was, but he didn't call or text me back.

A & I had a great time. We got some food (Steak on a Stick) and drinks (really awful SoCo hurricanes, which weren't even frozen) and went to check out a few bands. We saw Bryan Adams, and sang along to most songs. While we were standing around waiting for the Canadian pop singer to start, two fellas started chatting us up - Maurice and Todd. A called Todd "Superman" because he was tall and skinny and had that Clark Kent look about him. Todd was talking to her, Maurice to me, but it was all in good fun. And since they are from Ohio, though Maurice now lives in Pasadena, it's fair to say we won't see them again, so i have no issue with posting their names. We stayed at that stage through about half of Train (I know they are middle of the road pop, but I like them), and then went off to see Three 6 Mafia. triple six are local, and won an oscar (!), so we thought it might be fun. The guys ran off in white middle-american terror in about two songs. We stayed for about half the set, then I couldn't handle it anymore, so we walked the park. Saw the CC tent, the one hosted by the old radio conglomerate I used to work for. I waved at some former co-workers from the fence, and they motioned for me to come in. I said I couldn't, and one ripped his wristband off and handed it to me so I could come in. So, I did, and one of the radio engineers (the second youngest one), hit on me a little bit, as did a TV cameraman I could always count on for some harmless flirting. There was a little drama that I still don't understand from the girlfriend of a guy I used to work with (who apologizes to me for my quitting everytime I see him). But I felt bad because A was waiting outside, so I left. We were stuck in a parking structure for nearly an hour, trying to leave, and I got home at 2 and passed out.

Saturday, A called me at 8:30, and we decided we would indeed go to Pilates (how we met) and then she would take me to my car. So, we did, and I was back to my car by noon. I tried to call T, as I was in her neighborhood, but got no answer. So, i headed home.

It was another of my lonely Saturdays. Friday nights and Saturdays are when I feel the loneliest. Weeknights, it's understandable that I am alone. Not a lot of my friends work a normal 8-5, so it is hard to coordinate with other radio peeps. And, I'm often exhausted. But weekends are when I really feel single, and kidless, and friendless. And as a single, kidless person, I have to negotiate around other peoples' (couples, mothers) schedules. And, I feel like since B and I broke up, and I've started to explore and think, I've become really good at overthinking and being needy. And not everyone wants that. So, I spend Saturdays staring at the TV. I wanted to go to MusicFest yesterday (cake and Huey Lewis and Bruce Hornsby were all playing), but I couldn't find anyone to go with, and then it started raining, and I didn't want to go downtown to a crazy event by myself, as a single girl. Safety and feeling like a loser combined.

So, its Sunday, and I woke up early again (8:30), and the case of the lonelies is starting to hit again. And I don't have the bookstore, 'cause I took off from it for MusicFest (thinking I'd have plans come together) and now i don't have any solid plans.

This single thing, it's frustrating. And, even though I'm an outgoing person, it's harder to meet people than you would think. And I have trust issues now, and I need more reassurance now.

On an totally unrelated note, I have to post this 'cause I am SO frustrated. I have a fake name that I use on the air, Mitzi. I've grown fond of it, as it separates my work persona from me, and keeps the scary listeners from knowing my real name. Apparently, my PROGRAM DIRECTOR (*that's boss) thought it was okay to tell one of these scary listeners (that has become a drinking buddy of his) my real name. And dude was using it, in front of other people, at the event on Friday. And, he told me that ML (the PD) had told him my name. The a-hole was gloating about the whole thing. AAARRRGGHH!

Monday, May 01, 2006

conversations with the ex

excerpts from Friday's emails from B:

Thu 4/27/2006 9:13 AM
I just wanted to check in and see if everything is ok? I have been trying to give you your space and let you enjoy life without me giving you a hard time… I can take a hint. When you never called me back about W’s party I understood that you do not want to talk to me. I want you to be happy. For a long time you were such a large part of my life and I do have to say I miss you. I do not know when we stopped talking but I hope some day we can start again.

You friend forever,
B

(my reponse)
Thursday, April 27, 2006 9:26 AM
everything is good. the ratings come out next week, and I hope they don't suck.
thank you for the space... understand, it is not just you. I need my space from everything and everyone to get myself back on track.
I hope you are well, too.

Thu 4/27/2006 10:38 AM
...I do not think you will have any issue with the ratings, the show sounds great. I can hear your influence in it and they are lucky to have you. Thanks for writing back I am glad to hear that everything is going well and when you are ready I will be around. Jess I have some good friends in my life that I hope to have for the rest of my live and I hope that you will be one of them…

Thank you for being a friend…
B


excerpt from Sunday's email from B:

Sun 4/30/2006 9:49 PM
I want to say how sorry I am for calling you that name the night of the party… I am so sorry. I felt like you were trying to kick me out. I know that I do not show it very often but I do have feelings. That night it hurt me when you were telling me to go. I know that was not your intent. I am so sorry it has taken me so long to say it. Jess you will never now what an important part of my life you are. It was great seeing you today and I am sorry that I made up such a dumb reason “coming to the bookstore”. You look great, and I am glad that everything is going well.

Sorry,
B