:: Life on Planet Dan-E ::

:: So Now What? ::

I did my usual Wednesday night tennis thing. I wanted to get my mind off of my current unemployment status and beating the crap out of a little yellow ball seemed like a good idea. I get there and start warming up. Once we get split up I noticed a girl in a blue tennis outfit that's also playing on our court. She's kinda cute but I only noticed since the advanced clinic is usually a pickle farm.

As it turns out, she's pretty good and possesses a killer backhand (and that's not a metaphor for "she has nice legs," though there is that). While picking up balls we make eye contact. Normally, I'd probably just smile a little and keep picking up balls but instead I smile and ask, "How's it going?" She smiles back and says "hi."

I try to make some casual conversation with her between drills by starting off with "you have a nice backhand. Where'd you learn to play?" (Seriously, I have no game.) Fortunately she gives me more than just short, curt answers. If anything, she's laid-back and chatty, and has an easy smile. I find out she's from Chicago, lived in Miami for many years, is a school teacher, and likes Da Bears.

Once the clinic is over, I approach her to get her number. Only thing is, I left my cell phone at home - I never bring it with me when I play - and I didn't have a pen. So I ask her for her phone and she hands it over; I punch in my number and press dial.

"That's my number, and now I should have yours."

"Cool, I'm gonna save it." She flashes that smile again.

"Alright, I'll call you about Saturday."

"Bye."

"See ya."

(And this is despite the fact that I'm dripping with sweat, probably smell funny, and sporting a patchy two-week old facial shrub. Either my personality won out or she *really* doesn't care about looks. I'm guessing the latter.)

After she walks away, I pack up my rackets with a stupid grin on my face. I get home and grab my phone and... nothing. Absolutely nothing. WTF. It should have said "1 missed call" but there was NOTHING. How did it not go through? I pressed the green button! Did she have bad reception? Did she save the number too quickly?! I guess it's irrelevant because there was NOTHING.

So now what do I do? If I see her again at the clinic, she's going to think I'm just another asshole that doesn't call. (I mean, I can be an asshole but I usually call.) Just my luck. This is why I sometimes hate technology. Anyway, I'm gonna go self-immolate.

Labels: dating, girls, please just shoot me, tennis, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 10:05 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Server Stories: Early Night ::

"Dan-E, my wife and I got into a fight this morning so I'm closing tonight."

"Good to know Tino, thanks."

Weekdays at work have been slow lately, enough so that some of the floor staff is often cut even before we open. I don't mind working slow nights. I usually get a good section, the customers are more mellow than some of the human garbage that trolls through on weekends, and I still make good money since the slower pace allows me to be more attentive with my tables. But the constant six-day workweeks (and a few seven-days) for the last five months or so since I got hired here are getting to me. So when he volunteered to stay, I looked forward to being cut early.

Tino's a good guy. He's an immigrant from Argentina who started here working as a busboy. But unlike some complacent types, he worked hard to better his English and worked his way up to food runner and eventually a waiter, which is what he's been doing for the last year or so. We've really bonded in the last month or so since our sections are often right next to each other during weekends and we work well together. We enjoy good small talk, bitching about the managers, and we both have ponytails.

His wife is actually very gregarious, with a strong, outgoing, straightforward personality that leaves little room for ambiguity. I've had a few fun conversations with her after work. "You sure you want to stay?" I ask just to be nice. "Yeah man, my wife is gonna beat the shit out of me," he replied with a laugh that was only half-joking.

But it's also clear who wears the pants in the family (Tino seems to prefer those calf-length pirate pants) and having met his wife, I'm pretty sure she could kick his ass. She's not huge or anything; a thin 5'7" but she's a workout freak and looks like one of the girls who are freakishly strong, kinda like Monica from "Friends." (Also, she's fourteen years older than him.)

I helped set up the place and wish him good luck before I take off. "Thanks, but it's probably going to be dead."

"No, I mean good luck when you go home tonight."

Labels: girls, humor, waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 10:09 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Flake ::

Remember how I said that The Hostess was out of the picture? Guess who I ran into after work at Geno's Pizza last weekend? She was coming home from some club and stood in line behind me. We chatted briefly and while I was cordial, she was a bit tipsy. I stayed distant but she was her loquacious self. She said she missed me and asked why haven't called. Because you're a flake and I'm tired of that shit. "I've been busy."

She asked, almost begged me to call her and hang out. Maybe it's because I was getting off at 2am and tired but I agreed. My only day off was Wednesday and that's my tennis night. I could always play another night but I told her we could meet up after I'm done playing since my gut feeling said she'd bail on me.

Turns out I was right.

No big deal. I did what I was going to do anyway but I was still annoyed. I don't have much in the way of expectations from her. She's fun to hang with but I never considered her dating material since she smokes, is a little immature for her age, and quite frankly, I probably deserve better. But I did enjoy her company and it would have been nice to hang out.

(Full disclosure, the only reason I gave her another shot is because she's a cute brunette with blue eyes. I'm pathetic.)

I remember trying to date back when I was younger and having with deal with this shit then but is this what women are like when they're in their 20s?. I felt like going off her but instead I just let it go. Is this how women are at that age? Or have I just been getting bad cards?

Labels: dating, girls, rants, the hostess

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 12:04 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Server Stories: Keep an Eye on Your Camera ::

I had a five top of some yuppy types from New York who were in town for Miami's Winter Music Conference. Their reservations are at eight, when it's nice and dark outside. It started off with four, three guys and a girl. I tell them the specials, take their drink orders, ask for their IDs, which they're only too happy to do (they're all aged 25-27; since when did kids that young get so happy to be carded?). It's the girl's birthday so I make it a point to give her my version of VIP service: extra attention, maybe a free drink, and some mild flirtation.

The fifth person finally arrives as I'm serving the appetizers. It's a curvy brunette in a low-cut, flowing green mini-dress sporting some impressive cleavage. "Good evening miss, welcome to Swanky Trendy Restaurant. How you doing?" (I didn't quite do a "Joey" from "Friends" but it was close... I did pronounce the last "g.")

"I'm good. How are you?"

"I'm great thanks... now that you're here."

She throws me a big smile, looks at her friends and says "wow, I like the place already."

It's a Wednesday so it's not that busy, and all my other tables are low-maintenance deuces so I can keep birthday girl, her friend, and the guys happy (roughly in that order). I refill their waters, get fresh cocktails, light their cigarettes, make small talk, flirt lightly, and keep the whole table happy. Near the end, birthday girl is getting cold (she's wearing a short, sleeveless dress) so while she's selecting a dessert, I warm her up by rubbing her arms (I have very warm hands).

When I return with the desserts, the guy who was sitting across from her is now sitting next to her and has his hand on her waist. Oh, umm, oops. (Look, they never gave any sort of indication that they were a couple. No smiles, no hand-holding, nothing.)

Fast forward. Everyone is happy, birthday girl is glowing from her champagne and chocolate cake, and her friend is right there with her. When they leave, I light her cigarette one last time and she says, "thanks. I hope I see you again." "I'll be here all weekend. Stop by any time."

This is where the good part of the story starts:

They forget their camera. I'm closing out the bill, and checking other tables so they're long gone when I come back to clear the glasses. When I get back, they're on the phone with Jed, the manager. (Who, by the way is great for blog material, but that's for later.) He sees me and asks, "Dan-E, did you find a digital camera?" I hand it over, he returns to the phone, and tells my customers that we have their camera, and to stop by and ask for Jed.

I don't even think about that table again until today. When I get to work and start setting up my station. Jed comes up to me and asks, "Hey Dan-E, you remember that camera that you found the other day? Did you look through the photos?" "No. Why? "Dude, there were some fucked up photos on that thing. You should have looked while you had the chance." "Like what?"

"There's a picture of a guy with a dildo jammed up his ass."

And you felt I needed to see this? Why?

"And it wasn't just one. There were several." Within minutes, everyone working that day knows about the camera. A few minutes later, everyone knows it was from my table and they’re asking me, “which one of the guys was it?" As if I can tell from looking at someone if they like to stuff dildos up their asses.

Jed chimes in. "And the fucked up thing is that this guy was taking photo of himself with that dildo up his ass." After which he proceeds to demonstrate just how said photos might have been taken.

"Wait, they didn't stop by yesterday to pick it up?"

"They never came. They're probably too embarrassed to come back and get it. There was also some pictures of a chick in a thong flashing her tits."

"You couldn't mention that first? You had to mention the dude with a dildo up his ass, you homo."

"Yeah, but they weren't that great. Don't get me wrong, I'd still beat off on them but I've seen better."

"Good to know."

"I hope it wasn't that chick you were flirting with."

Shit. "I couldn't tell you. It was dark."

Everyone is having a field day with this. We laugh about it during set up. I joke that I'm going to download the camera to my laptop and create a fake Flickr page titled "Weekend in South Beach."

Just before we open, two of the guys show up asking for the camera. I inform Jed to which he replies, "dammit, I liked that camera." "Dude, you liked the photos." "Yeah, but I've been thinking about getting a digital camera anyway."

I tell the guys that the manager will be right down. Then I notice a girl yapping on a cell phone walk up behind them. She's wearing a denim skirt and a black tank top that's unnecessarily tight, since her pooch is kinda hanging out. Her face is okay but she's scowling for some reason. She doesn't notice me but she does look familiar... oh crap was that the girl in the green dress?! I turn around and walk back into the restaurant.

I'm going to sound like a dick for saying this but... talk about a letdown. How did she go from looking great that night to so... bleh? Yeah, I know. It was dark, she had on makeup, she was probably wearing a push-up bra, I was probably tired, whatever. That’s just wrong. I thought maybe I was being a little harsh until Jed comes up to me and asks, "that's her from the photo. She the one you were macking on?"

"Don't remind me."

"What? She wasn't that bad."

"She looked so much better that night. I don't even know what happened to her in the last two days."

"It's alright brother. Believe me, I've done a lot worse than that."

"Good to know."

Labels: boobs, girls, naked, server stories, stupid customers, waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 1:15 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Freckles ::

I just remembered why I like girls with freckles. Maybe not the best example but, c'mon... that's good stuff.

I've mentioned that I like the show "Lost." And now you know why. It's not just because of the fascinating characters, intricate plot, and bizarre twists. (Well, maybe a little.)

Labels: boobs, girls, naked, whoa

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 2:48 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: So what Happened? ::

Not much really. I show up five minutes late. I greet Elly the bartender and like always, she leans in for a kiss on the cheek. She's been working there for a couple of weeks and she may or may not be flirting with me everytime I go there. I can never tell with female bartenders. I order my Yeungling ($3 a bottle!) and start playing some pool.

Pool Girl shows up an hour late, and it's not just her: it's her and six of her friends from school. Which is fine, I guess but I guess she misunderstood my intent when I asked her out to shoot some pool. Also odd is when I saw her earlier, she was wearing jeans and a black tank top, similar to what she wearing when I first met her. Now she's sporting a grey tank top and an attractive skirt while everyone else has the rumpled look of people who left a twelve-hour lecture. I stop thinking about it and return to my game.

We have a few brief chats, she tells me about her tattoos, and I find out she loves sharks. I meet a few of her friend but their energy is subdued. Maybe they did just leave a long lecture, I don't know. I lose a game and join them at their table. It's dead and I feel awkward. Remember Joe? There is something between them, though I can't figure out what. Every now and then she slinks off to talk to him about something. There's minimal contact, no forlorn looks, no affectionate glances... I can't get a read on them (though I'm still pretty sure I can take him). It's then I decide this is going nowhere.

She returns and says that we're moving the "party" (her word) to Zeke's Roadhouse. I love Zeke’s but this isn’t the night. As they leave and I tell her that I'm calling it a night. She looks surprised and tries to drag me along but I decline.

"Well, okay but call me, alright?"

"Don't be late next time."

She smiles, waves, and leaves and I'm left wondering whether to initiate a next time.

I walk to the bar to pay my tab and talk with Elly while I pay. I don't remember exactly how but we exchange phone numbers, agree to meet for coffee, which should have been a good thing except I'm pretty sure said something about having a boyfriend a while back. Maybe I heard wrong. Maybe they're about to break up. Maybe I need to stop going to dive bars.

Labels: bars, Beer, Dewey's, girls

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 12:46 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Job Search: Day 8 ::

I did some pavement pounding yesterday and dropped off at least eight or nine more resumes and filled out almost as many applications. Nothing really solid, since almost everyone told me something along the lines of "we're not hiring at the moment" or "our staff is full right now" followed by "but if you want to fill out an application, we'll keep in it on file and call if anything comes up."

One hotel I went to told me they don't take paper resumes (wtf?) but I can fill out an application on their website. I figured what the hell and I started that around noon. As it turns out, that place is owned by a multinational hotel company and this was their corporate application site. It wasn't just a simple case of filling in the boxes and checking the box that says I've never been convicted of a felony (Explain: Umm, great lawyer), as there were a series of questions and a survey that took half an hour. Which was fine since I didn't have anything else to do. (I could have just picked my nose but I'm a great multitasker.)

I need to print more cover letters and resumes so instead of going to Kinko's, I head over to my old school to use their printers. I hadn't been there in over a year and there were so many changes that I spent some time both trying to find the computer room and downloading the proper drivers. Around 3:30, I get a phone call from a number I don't recognize. Hoping it's one of the restaurants finally calling me (to tell me that they desperately need my services because I'm awesome) I answer eagerly.

It's that hotel.

That was fast. They must really need someone. We talked about ten minutes discussing several points about my experience and what would be required of me at the restaurant. Being corporate, it was one of their H.R. guys that went through my resume and called me to schedule an interview. So as it stands now I have an interview next Monday at 10:00am. Wish me luck.

Oh, there's more: While I was printing out my stuff, I ran into a girl that I met at Dewey's a couple of weeks ago. That meeting alone is worth a blog post (I'm surprised I didn't blog about that night). I'm sitting on the couch, she turns the corner, we make eye contact and each say a surprised "hey!" She's on her way to class so we chat only briefly. I get her number, and make plans to shoot some pool tonight at ten... because I'm awesome (I'm gonna keep typing that until I actually start to believe it. That could take a while.)

Considering my recent fortunes, I'm betting 50-50 that she's going to flake and not show up but then again, she might show up and have a lot of fun right?

I should mention this: I'm posting this at Taste Bakery and manager who's been working there as long as I've been going there just gave me a bag of cinnamon rolls to take with me because she didn't want to throw them out. If you know anything about me the only thing I love more than food is free food. This is a good sign.


EDIT: 7:35 - I just saw her at Starbucks. I came here after Taste closed and just walked in to get some coffee. (I think she's stalking me). We talked very briefly and I noticed she had two cups and made a (lame) joke about caffeine addiction. She said the other one's "for Joe." My first thought was, "who the fuck is Joe? Boyfriend? Study partner? Maybe a bisexual female friend whose full name is JoAnne?" (I have an active imagination.) Anyway, says I'll see you tonight and leaves. I see her with Joe, who's a tall, lanky, dorky looking guy with glasses. I think I can take him.

Oh yeah, I can't believe I forgot to mention this the first time: this girl and I have the same first name. Whoa, déjà vu .

What do you mean I'm thinking too much??

Labels: girls, I'm an idiot, job search, whoa

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 5:55 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Server Stories: Girls and Whiskey ::

It was a pretty slow Wednesday night. I got to work at five and I didn't get my first table until almost six-thirty. It was a four-top of some young-looking kids that were in town with daddy's credit card. As they walk in I notice the petite, sandy-blonde chick wearing a low-cut dress showing off her nice set of personalities. My buddy Chuck and the new guy walk over next to me and admire the talent as she takes her seat. I walk up to the table ask them for their drink order first and everyone gets soda or iced tea except for the sandy blonde, who orders Jack Daniels on the rocks.

I raise my eyebrows and I look at her for a moment before I ask for her I.D. She digs it out of her purse and hands it to me. She turned 21 three months ago. Girls her age who try too hard to be precocious usually stick of Cosmopolitans or some vodka mix (and it's always either Grey Goose, Kettle One, or Belvedere). But Jack on the rocks...

Wow. Don't get me wrong. I like Jack Daniels. On the rocks or with Coke, it's a great whiskey. I'm an avowed bourbon drinker that also loves s good scotch and Irish Whisky(I'm not a fan of Canadian Whiskeys; Crown Royal is okay but everything else tastes like swill) but I'm 33 and I possess an iron palate. (The Gay Wingman once dared me into doing a Wild Turkey shot and I downed with no problem, whereas he went into convulsions, despite the fact that he's been drinking longer and harder than I ever had). Jack Daniels is similar to bourbon except it's made in Tennessee and has been filtered through sugar maple charcoal (imagine a gigantic Britta filter; it's called the Lincoln County Process), which imparts and a smoky sweetness you won't find in, say, Woodford Reserve. Regardless, drinking this stuff without a mixer takes either a strong tongue or years of drinking to develop a tolerance (in my case, both).

I hand her driver's license back, smile and say "nice pull." She smiles back at me and says quietly, "I've been doing this for a while." It's then I noticed that she owns not only a killer smile, but also a beautiful pair of hazel eyes that could potentially make powerful men starts wars to win her favor. I'm about to flirt with her except the guy sitting next to her suddenly slides right next her, puts his hand on her thigh, and says to me with a slightly raised voice, "can we start with some calamari?"

I pull myself out her eyes and walk over to the computer, being grateful that I’m wearing an apron. My buddy Chuck and the new guy are still checking out Hazel Eyes. After I run the drinks, I walk up to them and joke, "I think we got 'Miss Girls Gone Wild 2008' at my table." Chuck thinks it's funny while new guy just shakes his head and says, "Damn. She's fucking hot dawg. She show you her tits or something?"

"Nah. I mean, she's hot, but she's drinking Jack on the rocks."

"Aw damn."

"And... she turned 21 in November."

"For real?"

"Yeah."

"Like, last year?"

"Yeah."

"Aw, damn dawg. That's hot, That's fucking hot." (He says "dawg" a lot. And he's Brazilian.)

I chuckle. He's a good guy. He's only 28 but he's been married for four years already. He says he never has and never will cheat on his wife and I believe him since he'd tell me if he did, but it's clear he married too young and he still wants to sow his wild oats. (Then again, his wife is a beautiful English lass with blonde hair and a round ass and if anything like that was in love with me, I'd probably want to lock that down too.)

The calamari is done. He drops it off at the table and walks past me, shaking his head and says "damn." I smile. I sorta know how he feels. Assuming she was single, he can't have her because he's married. I can't have her because... well... I have my own neurosis I need to work through.

Gay Wingman walks up and he wonders what the three of us are talking about. Chuck points out Hazel Eyes and even the gay guy is like "wow, she is hot." He nudges me and says "you need to go talk to her right now."

"Dude, she's with her boyfriend."

"Oh honey, he's a dumb jock that still wears his cap backwards. You're way smarter than that meathead is and, oh my gawd, his shoes are just awful."

He's sober. It's not unusual for him to have a drink or three before a shift but he's sober right now. I just look at him and nod. "I'm serious. Even if you don't get her number, you need to go make an impression and show her she can do better than that jock."

"Dude, shut up."

"You're fabulous honey. You need to get that out there more. We need to get you out there more. And she also likes that brown liquor."

I smile. I don't have a response to that but other than the "fabulous" part, he might be right. Alcoholic tendencies and loquacious ramblings aside, he just might have a point.

They finish their dinner and pay. They leave while I'm standing near the entrance talking to the host. When they walk by, the boyfriend ignores me but Hazel rubs my arm as she walks past and says good night. I smile back and say "I'll see you again soon." I grab the check. The boyfriend paid and left a crappy tip.

I don't care. I'm in a good mood for the rest of evening.

Labels: big ass, boobs, girls, server stories, the gay wingman, waiting, whiskey, whoa

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 12:56 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Wingman ::

There's this guy at work that seems to have appointed himself as my "gay wingman/dating coach." He's a proud native New Yorker. Outgoing, garrulous, brazen, and believes everyone should bask in his "fabulousness." He also has a drinking problem, loves smoking weed, and is on probation for a domestic dispute with an ex-boyfriend (the details of which I didn't care ask about). You could be judgmental, but we're friends and some nights after a long day and a couple of beers, he's one of guys I talk to about my female problems, so what does that say about me?

Every now and then after a few drinks, he makes it a point to meet women and then introduce them me. I'm just sitting there trying to find something to hide behind. I'm not opposed to meeting women, except he has a knack for picking out the ones that are married, have boyfriends, or is so drunk that she'd probably go home with Scott Peterson.

I don't know if it’s a New York thing but he's generally blunt in his observations of me, especially when he goes into this bizarre (alcohol-induced) Queer Eye meets Dr. Phil mode. I'd normally dismiss his drunken ramblings (like when he tells me to cut six inches off my hair and shave my goatee; no way I'm cutting my hair, and I'll trim my goatee but if I go clean-shaven I'll look like I'm 17) except he pointed out some of the very same neurosis that I blogged about in the past. And it's not all critiquing, he does point out the positives as well, without being like, creepy or anything.

He knows about The Hostess, only because he saw us leave work together and asked me the next night about what was going on (nothing... I think) and if anything happened (we had dinner once, drinks once and lunch once). His conclusion? She likes me but she's probably as neurotic as I am. Interesting choice of words since since she sometimes compares herself to Monica from "Friends."

This should be interesting.

Labels: dating, girls, the gay wingman, the hostess

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 12:46 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Dreams and Nightmares ::

Everyone has dreams and nightmares. Sometimes you remember them, many times you don't. I don't recall ever blogging about this and I wouldn't, except last week, I had two very different dreams revolving around the same theme in one night. That along isn't blog-worthy, except last night, I had the same two dreams.

Remember the post about The Curator? In my dream, she came back to my restaurant to visit me, except she's with her date who turned out to be some old, bearded guy wearing a black trench coat and a beret (...in Miami. It’s too damn hot to wear trench coats and berets here). She walks in, gives me a big hug and a kiss, and says, "by the way this is..." (I don't remember the name). I forced some awkward conversation until I jolted awake feeling angry, bitter, and wanting to break something.

I went back to sleep and the second dream involved something resembling a porno scene (not that I would know anything about that). Except in this case, I was prominently involved and I wasn't some random pool cleaner or plumber, and she wasn't some porno-hot blonde with a giant, fake rack. The woman was someone I've never seen or met but in the dream, she was some I've been dating for some time (kinda like that weirdo future flashback from the TV show "Lost" where Jack and Kate are talking at the airport and you discover that the scene is from the future when Jack "we have to go back [the The Island]").

I walk into my little studio (which is a little depressing in retrospect; am I still living here in the future? I don't have a house yet? It's my own fucking dream and I can't even conjure up a nice little one-bedroom? What the fuck?) and there she is, dressed in a lacy, black tank top and thong and she couldn't be happier to see me. We started making out, then I ripped her panties off and [--CENSORED--].

(Oh calm down. For Pete's sake's people it was just a dream. And I've been at this too long to tarnish this blog with some explicit narrative of some graphic love scene that didn't even happen. You wanna read that shit go to some sleazy adult web site. Clitoris.)

It was great, I was great, she loved it, and things were awesome... until MY ALARM WENT OFF and I jolted awake feeling angry, bitter, and wanting to break something.

By the way, the girl in the second dream looked a lot like this (Please don’t ask me how or what search engine or what keywords I used to find that photo. I don’t know who she is or who the girl in my dream is. I just thought I’d help you, um, visualize my dream. That’s my story. I'm serious.)

Indelicate parenthetical humor aside, I had those two dreams in one night, on two separate nights and roughly the same thing happened both nights. Anyone know anything about dream interpretation? This happen to anyone else?

Labels: big ass, boobs, dreams, girls, naked, nightmares, porn, sex, the curator

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 1:02 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Is she Interested or is She just Nice? ::

If there's one aspect of dating (one of many, really) that I've been bad at, it's reading women's signals. My restaurant recently hired an attractive new hostess that all the straight guys that work there are drooling over. If I didn't have all this neurosis to deal with I'd probably be drooling along. We talk like friendly co-workers do: hi how are you, how was your week; did you see "No Country for Old Men" yet; good night dork. The other guys are more obvious about flirting with her.

She's in her early 20s, energetic, and quite gregarious. So I don't read into anything when she tells me about her family, friends, and other stuff since she shares that stuff with pretty much everyone. Now, here's where my confusion starts and the reason for writing this post:

Management decided to let her train as a server to replace a guy that quit. I wish her luck and help her when I can without actually doing anything for her. At the end of her first night of training, she asks me if we can walk home together (we live a few blocks from each other) and say "sure." I want make a small detour to Pita Plus on Washington to get some take out. She agrees immediately. We end up eating there and talking some more (she talks, I listen). When our food is up I get ready to pay (for my own stuff, since at no point this whole time did I think this was a date of any sort), except she starts reaching into her purse and says "I'll get this." "Huh? What? Why?" The clerk interjects tells us we don't have to pay until after we're done eating (I'm there all the time). "You don't have to buy me dinner." She just shakes her head.

During dinner, she asks me if I can help her study for her waiter test. I get this brief moment of nostalgia where I'm back in college but once that passes I say "sure, if I'm free that day." No big deal, as long as it doesn't interfere with the Football Playoffs. We keep talking, we get to movies and I ask her about "Cloverfield." I mention I'm thinking about seeing it this weekend and unprompted, she says "I'll go see it with you." I raise my eyebrows. "Sure, if you want..." "...if that's what you were getting at. I always do that; some of my friends might say we're going to do this and that and I'll say 'sure I can make it' and he's like 'we weren't gonna invite you. this is guy's night." I just reply, "sure you can come."

The whole time, I was just enjoying her company, but that's when I realized something: Is she nervous? Why would she be nervous? She was always energetic and chatty but she seemed even chattier than normal. Or maybe I was tired and my perception was off. Anyway, we've so far established that I'm helping her study and we're going to see "Cloverfield" and I did almost nothing to prompt it. With me so far? (I'm still trying to figure this out myself.)

She notices the clerk cleaning up his counter and she stats digging in her giant bag for her purse. Again she offers to pay, again I protest. I don’t recall doing anything to deserve a free dinner, and I’m not used to stuff like this happening. She finally says, "you can get it next time we go out." Wait, next time? (I'm not kidding when I tell people that I'm not good at planning ahead. After I post this, I might watch Australian Open Tennis, I might go to sleep, or I might take dump. I just don't know. Or maybe she assumes a lot.)

She pays, I finish my shawarma pita and we walk home. She said some odd questions and comments that night; "Is this your normal walking pace? I walk fast, too. Are you religious? I like to walk around my apartment naked.” And this: “You know, when your hair is down, it really changes the structure of your face." (That's what she said, verbatim. Naturally my response was a confused "um, really?")

When we get to my street, I tell her good night and thanks for dinner. We kiss on the cheek and walk to our apartments. The last two blocks I'm wondering what exactly happened that night. I worked a 13-hour double and while I enjoyed her company, she has a lot of energy and I was drained.

The next night, it's business as usual. The TV is set on Fashion TV and "Midnight Hot" comes on. There are always thongs, usually there's sideboob, sometimes there's full boobage. There was a feature with a curvy brunette wearing a black thong and a see-through halter. Good thing it was late and the crowd thinned out because the four straight guys on the floor were ensorcelled by the model and none of us were getting any work done. We were standing around each other - possibly drooling - and if you saw us you'd probably laugh at how ridiculous it was.

I snap out of it when I the hostess smacks my arm from behind and says "alright boys, that's enough." She said "boys" yet I'm the only one that gets hit; what's up with that? I just turn my head, give my innocent smile. I turn back to the screen and she says sarcastically (I think) "if you're wondering, yes I'm jealous." None of us reply because now the model is bent over a coffee table and we’re catatonic. It stays like this for a minute till the manager sees and yells "get back to work!"

Anyway, I'm supposed to meet her Saturday to help her study and see "Cloverfield" (as long as she doesn't flake. She told me she's flakey and I made other plans anyway). As I went to bed that night, I'm wondering: Is she just looking for new friends? She just moved here. Is she just nice? Does she have a crush on me? What does that even mean? Is Saturday a date or are we just hanging out? (Yes, I'm THAT lost. Sad, isn't it?) Either way, I fall asleep with a goofy smile on my face.

Labels: big ass, boobs, dating, girls, hair, I'm an idiot, please just shoot me, the hostess

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 1:17 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Short list of ways to make women happy ::

I just had to share this great email forward I got. Enjoy:

Someone finally came up with a complete list!
It's not difficult to make a woman happy.

A MAN ONLY NEEDS TO BE:
1. a friend
2 a companion
3. a lover
4. a brother
5. a father
6. a master
7. a chef
8. an electrician
9. a carpenter
10. a plumber
11. a mechanic
12. a decorator
13. a stylist
14. a butler
15. a sexologist
16. a gynaecologist
17. a psychologist
18. a pest exterminator
19. a psychiatrist
20. a healer
21. a good listener
22. an organizer
23. very clean
24. sympathetic
25. athletic
26. warm
27. attentive
28. gallant
29. intelligent
30. funny
31. creative
32. tender
33. strong
34. understanding
35. tolerant
36. prudent
37. ambitious
38. capable
39. courageous
40. determined
41. true
42. dependable
43. passionate
44. compassionate

WITHOUT FORGETTING TO:
45. give her compliments regularly
46. love shopping
47. be honest
48. be very rich
49. not stress her out
50. not look at other girls

AND AT THE SAME TIME, YOU MUST ALSO:
51. give her lots of attention, but expect little yourself
52. give her lots of time, especially time for herself
53. give her lots of space, never worrying about where she goes

IT IS VERY IMPORTANT:
54. Never to forget:
- birthdays
- anniversaries
- arrangements she makes

YOU MUST LET HER:
55. dress you up like her own personal ken doll
56. point out your flaws and change you as she sees fit

AND FINALLY:
57. never attempt logic in an arguement since she's always right
58. you must give up your friends, poker nights, sports nights, etc.
59 and if are out, you must let her know exactly where you are at any given point that night


HOW TO MAKE A MAN HAPPY
1. Show up naked
2.Bring beer

Labels: girls, humor, naked

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 12:21 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Thing I have Learned from Relationships with Women ::

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Labels: dating, girls

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 10:19 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Server Stories: Drunkenness and Breakups ::

I know it's been a while since I posted but there hasn't been much goingon. Unless you wanted read about me being too chicken-shit to talk to women or stuff like that, I haven't felt like writing.

My buddy Duke, who I used to work with, came by to visit over the weekend. I might have mentioned him before, but the short version is: good worker, fun to work with, beautiful fiancé, and overall good guy. I didn't get to know him as well as I'd like since we mostly talked during down times at work but there was a mutual regard and respect while we were co-workers. His fiancé would stop by the restaurant every now and then, and we became friends as well. They were an adorable couple.

He left late last year to find another line of work, and just before that, I remember how he seemed eager to start a family soon. We didn't talk much since then other then some phone tag and text messages. So when I saw him Sunday night at work, I was happy to see him and there was a small part of me expecting him to pass out cigars or something. As it was, I was busy tending to my tables and my manager, who's his golfing buddy, was monopolizing his time catching up. Which was fine because I had a full section and my tables were keeping me busy; I figured I could talk to him once we closed.

Once I finished my paperwork and sat down next to him at the bar, I found him completely hammered. Slurred speech, stumbling, can't-walk-much-less-stand-hammered. He lived in Aventura, which is a good fifteen miles north of South Beach so, my manager, our friend Chuck, and I were wondering how to get him home. No way in hell he was driving.

We tried to get him to call his fiancé, who worked nearby, but according to him, she was at home, and couldn't get here on her scooter at that hour. A cab would be expensive, the manager couldn't take him because he had to stay late and close the restaurant, Chuck had to get home because his "wife is waiting for me and she's dressed like a whore" (also, she's Colombian, which means that if he's not at home or at work, she thinks he's out chasing skirts, so I understood completely). So that left me, since all I wanted to do after work was go to the Abby and have a beer.

The manager gave me some cab money, Chuck thanked me for taking the bullet, and I took the keys to Duke's car and drove him home. I know the general area where he lives and once I got close I tried to wake him up, but he apparently had a LOT of wine and I couldn't wake him up with an air gun. I did what seemed logical at the time, which was grab his phone and call his fiancé to get directions. I get her on the phone, tell her what's up with Duke and ask how to get to their place. I ask her if she's at home, and she tells me no. "Oh, so you're at work?"

"No, we're not together any more."

Wait... what?

My favorite couple that I met since I moved to Miami, are no longer a couple? What the fuck?! It started to make sense as I made my way to his place. He showed up alone, he was evasive when I asked how his fiancé was doing, and one of the cooks saw him on the verge of tears in the other dining room (I wouldn't know about this until the next day). He clearly didn't want any of us to know what happened, and when I talked to him briefly after dropping him off, he could barely look me in the eyes.

I called her after to let her know Duke is home safe and she gave me the Cliffnotes version of why she left him and thanked me for getting him home safe. During the cab ride home, it took a while for me to process everything that happened. I mean, the last time I saw either of them, they were leaving the restaurant, holding hands and looking forward to their lives together, and seemed to me the picture perfect couple. And now - even though many months have passed - they're not together? That sucks.

Duke called me the next day to thank me for driving him home, but also to ask me why I felt the need to call his ex-fiancé in the first place. I told him the truth: he couldn't drive so I drove him home in his car, he wouldn't wake up so I called her for directions, etc, etc. Clearly, he didn't mean for any of us to find out about this since he's not only heartbroken, but he feels embarrassed and emasculated that she left him, for reasons he didn't get into, nor did I inquire about.

I feel bad for him. On some level, I can relate to his situation. But on the other hand, he was with this girl for seven years (!) and they were supposed to husband and wife, which I never felt about anyone I was with. I told him that as a friend, I'd be available to talk to him if he ever felt the need, but to be completely honest, there's a part of me that doesn't want to listen to him vent his baggage. Not because I'm an asshole, but because I have so much of my own shit I need to figure out that I'm just not sure if I want to listen to someone else's relationship problems. ("You had a hot girlfriend for the last seven years and I can't even get a woman to so much as look at me. Yeah, sure." Don't get me wrong, I can be an asshole, I just don't want to be at this time). If he calls, of course I'll be available.

But I've been sitting on this for the last few days. This doesn’t really affect me in any way; I hadn't seen either of them in almost a year, and yet I'm still thinking about this now. Looking back, maybe I should have just tried a little harder to wake him up.

Labels: drinking, girls, regrets

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 1:54 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: I Love Baseball ::

If you'd like to see an early nominee for Sports Headline of the Year, check this out. Yeah, I laughed for a solid minute or so when I read it.

(By the way, I graduated high school in 1992.)

I'm also linking to this great blog written by Alyssa Milano. (Yeah, that one.) I'm not just linking to her because she's hot (honest), not because she's some trendy L.A. girl that loves the local teams (she isn't, not that there's anything wrong with that), or even that she's obviously a diehard Dodger fan that inherited her fandom from her father (ok, maybe a little), but because this chick obviously loves baseball. (That and I've had a small crush on her ever since my balls dropped - so it's been at least five years - I'm a late bloomer - but whatever.)

While I'm not surprised to discover that she's a Dodger fan, I'm almost shocked at her insightful commentary, ("...I love that Brady Clark can come off the bench and hit like he's been playing every day. But...why was Lieberthal batting cleanup? Is that some Moneyball thing?" And there's also "Love it or hate it, this is our team. Our outfield, our manager, our LOB #’s, our lack of power. It’s all ours.") tormented-fan griping ("...Base running fundamentals? What’s going on with our base running? ...To anyone that was watching on TV -- did Nomar look safe trying to steal second? He looked safe to me from the stands. ...Power bat please? ...Anyone else stressed right now?") and glorious SanFran Giants-bashing ("Anyone else naively think last night's game was a shoe-in because the Gnats sat Vizquel, Roberts and Klesko? I know I did." And "Hi. Wow. Okay. Last night, I threw up in my mouth a little when Bonds hit that home run.") She calls them the "Gnats." That's so adorably awesome, I could eat her out. Up. I meant up. Let's move on.

And I love her unique, woman's perspective on being a long-suffering Dodger fan ("It's easy for even the most optimistic to get negative after watching yesterday's game, to see the specific flaws instead of the whole picture [kind of like when you look in the mirror and only see the zit on your chin even though it takes up a miniscule part of your whole freaking face]. But I am going to make a conscious decision to stay positive, at least for the time being...") It's been a good fourteen years or so since I stopped worrying about my complexion so while I've also noticed those flaws, it's amusing to read how a flawed lineup is analagous to a zit on a woman's face.

Oh, and then there's this photo.

Labels: Alyssa Milano, baseball, blogs, Dodgers, funny words, girls, humor

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 6:17 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
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