:: Life on Planet Dan-E ::

:: Happy Mother's Day ::

My mama told me when I was young
Come sit beside me my only son
And listen closely to what I say
And if you do this it'll help you some sunny day

Take your time, don't live too fast
Troubles will come and they will pass
Go find a woman and you'll find love
And don't forget that there is someone up above

And be a simple kind of man
And be something you'll love and understand
Baby be a simple kind of man
Won't you do this for me son if you can?

Forget your lust for the rich man's gold
All that you need is in your soul
And you can do this if you try
All that I want from you my son is to be satisfied

And be a simple kind of man
And be something you'll love and understand
Baby be a simple kind of man
Won't you do this for me son if you can?

Boy don't you worry, you'll find yourself
Follow your heart and nothing else
And you can do this if you try
All that I want from you my son is to be satisfied

And be a simple kind of man
And be something you'll love and understand
Baby be a simple kind of man
Won't you do this for me son if you can?
- "Simple Man" Lynyrd Skynyrd

That's one of my favorite songs, and Skynyrd's best song not named "Freebird" (actually, I think it's their best song, period, which I know is heretical to say but, whatever). I believe any parent that has a son should play that song for him the moment he's able to comprehend music and lyrics. If my mama ever told me such things, life might have been different.

I rarely blog about my parents for reasons I won't get too specific about here. Even before I hit my teens our relationship has been anywhere from indifferent to acrimonious. Moving away helped our relationship considerably. Age and some degree of maturity helped me change my perspective since I stopped seeing them as The Worst Parents Ever to just being able to see them for the people they are.

Trying to be a good son I called my mother to wish her a Happy Mother's Day and I was treated to, for the first time in God knows how long, a pleasant surprise.

Like usual, she questioned (she used to nag) why I don't have a girlfriend (because you did your best to sap me of any self-confidence whatsoever during my formative years you megalomaniacal bitch, which I refrained from saying). Every time she does this, I always remember how she was never exactly open-minded about the ethnicities I can or can't date.

(I don't write about my ethnicity any more on this blog for reasons of anonymity and I've removed any previous mention of it. Other than the few people who know me in real life, I prefer to keep it private, though it probably isn't hard to figure out. Anyway, because I was raised in California my personality is that of your average West Coast White Guy. If you talked to me over the phone, you'd think exactly that.)

Instead I just told her I've been on some dates lately and I'm pretty sure she wouldn't like any of them because of their ethnicities. She then threw me this curveball: (Paraphrasing) "I don't care what she is. If she's a good woman and you love her, then I'll accept her, regardless of what she might be. Do you hear me? If she's a good woman and she makes you happy, that's all I care about."

[Surprised at the response.] Really.

"Absolutely. Your father feels the same way. All we care about is that she's a good woman and she makes you happy."

[I'm now wondering who this woman is and what she's done with my real mother.] That's good to know. I appreciate that.

"Yeah yeah, now tell me, have you met anyone or what?" [Oh hey mom, there you are.]

Yeah, I had a date last week. It was nice, nothing special.

"What is she?"

[Here it goes.] She's Dominican/Black. [Waiting for the tirade.]

(And I didn't say that just to bait my mother. My date is in fact, Dominican/Black. My days of doing things out of spite are behind me.)

She lets out a sigh. "Is she nice? Did you have fun?" Yeah mom, she's nice. And it was one date. Nothing more. "Listen, I meant what i said. As long as she makes you happy, that's all I care about. I just want you to be happy."

[This being the first concession she made for me, in quite possibly, my entire life I simply go along with it.] I'm glad you're opening up Mom. I appreciate it.

We talked a little more before I had to go. I worked that night but I spent the rest of the evening thinking about our talk. Before this, when I thought about her all I could remember was the negativity, the overprotective nature, and her inability to grasp how wildly different my perspective was from hers. But while I'd like to thinkI've grown and matured in the last five years, it's now apparent she's also made some progress.

I've always done my own thing without consideration for my parents feelings, and I'll be the first to admit that some of it was motivated by rebellion. Whatever I may think of her as a mother, as a person she's beyond reproach. Always generous, outgoing, caring to a fault and she could cook a killer plate of spaghetti from scratch. Whatever, it's good to know that my parents are now willing to meet me halfway on something.

Getting them to accept the fact that my hair is almost down to my butt, that might be more challenging.

Labels: dating, hair, introspective, parents

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 5:19 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Weirdest Compliment Ever ::

I was hanging out The Abby the other night and ran into some friends I hadn't seen in a while. They already had a few by the time I got there so at least for them, conversation flowed easily while I just sat and listened, nodded, commented and laughed when appropriate. I had a long night at work and needed a moment to wind down.

After my first beer, I finally decided to let my hair down. Literally. (Work requires me to pull my hair back in a tight bun; a ponytail won't suffice since it's about two feet long.) One of the girls says "oh my gawd, I didn't know your hair was so long" and starts running her fingers through it. (If a decent looking chick wants touch me, I usually don't put up a fight.) "Can I braid your hair?"

I simply nod and turn my attention back to my buddy and talk baseball while watching SportsCenter. Meanwhile the girl is drunk and keeps losing her place while trying to give me something called a "fishbone braid." She gives up after a few minutes and sits back down and says this:

"Dan-E, if I ever get cancer and lose my hair I want you to donate yours so I can wear it."

We laughed. Did I mention she was drunk?

Labels: Abby, drunk, hair, unintentional comedy, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 11:21 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Nothing better to do? ::

Anyone who reads my blog knows I'm a huge football fan. I've followed my SanFran 49ers since the Joe Montana era. You might think I live and die during the months of October to January depending on how they do, which isn't too far from the truth. But at its core, football is entertainment, nothing more. It's one vehicle for men (and women) who follow the desire to be a part of something larger than themselves, however absurd, ephemeral, or sophomoric our devotion may seem to others. We love our teams, we love the sport itself, and we know that although Our Team may have lost in the playoffs/not made the playoffs/sucked so bad you wanted to disown them, life goes on and there's always next year.

That being said, what the FUCK is up with this shit?. Seriously, there's the Michael Vick issue, players out there causing shootouts at strip clubs, and players still trying to take steroids and other performance enhancing supplements but forget all that. Those long-haired bastards need to see a barber.

I mean, really? This is what the powers that be of the National Football League are going to discuss?

Granted, this is the merely the suggestion of one team president of one football team - Kansas City Chiefs president Carl Peterson- who by the way, hasn't been able to put together a winning team since Dick Vermeil retired a few years ago. But the fact that it's actually important enough of an issue that it'll be discussed during the NFL owner's meeting tells me that some people who run the league are incredibly shortsighted and out of touch.

Look, I realize that for me to get all riled up about something this trivial (from any perspective really, be it from team owners to the casual fan) is a bit absurd, considering there's so many other things out there that I can get riled up about. I know that there are other things that concern me more. But reading about this affected me in a way I can't exactly explain, and it's not just because I'm a football fan with long hair that's almost down to my ass (okay, maybe a little).

The NFL has had an image problem the last couple of seasons. Players testing positive for drug tests, several criminal convictions, players being caught with gun arsenals, and even allegations of cheating among the coaching ranks. This article argues my point more eloquently than I can (and gayer... seriously, "Waiting to Exhale" dude? Take a day off and watch "Caddyshack" or something) and I'll paste a few points.

...players wear their hair long for reasons beyond fashion or to be rebellious. For example, Pittsburgh Troy Polamalu does it as a tribute to his Samoan heritage and Jacksonville's Lamont Thompson as a way to remind himself to be patient. And as a man who has grown locks twice in my life, I can tell you starting them can be very spiritual and maintaining them a source of pride. Like fingerprints and DNA, no two heads of locks are exactly the same.

...No, I see it as another way to make corporations comfortable about the NFL because its image has taken a severe hit the past couple of seasons. Whitewash the personality so that the product is more palatable to a broader audience.

I'm going to wake up tomorrow and think about the day ahead and the upcoming weekend. I'm going to study for the upcoming wine test I need to take at my new job. I'll watch CNN and consider the upcoming election. And I'll probably wonder if I'll be able to wake up in time to get in some tennis Saturday morning. And even if some of my favorite players have to cut their hair to meet uniform standards, I'll probably still follow football with the same fervor as your average football freak.

But at least I have a modicum of an idea of what really matters.

Labels: 'roids, football, hair, rants

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 12:16 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Server Stories: You want me to what? ::

Today was my second day of training. I'll go into that in a later post but I have to mention this. I got there early so I could do my paperwork. They made copies of my driver's license and social security card, after which they made me go through a 27-page legal document with details on various company policies ranging from customer service to agreeing to possible drug tests. (As long as they don't test for bacon, I'm okay.) The kicker was that I have to print and sign all 27 pages. Never seen that before, but I guess it's a good thing they're thorough.

The second thing: While I'm developing carpal tunnel, one of the managers tell me that I need to do something about my goatee. "Sure, I'll trim it back tonight."

He looks somewhat apologetic. "We're gonna need you to shave it off completely."

I distinctly remember at least two waiters who had goatees. Being as it I'd rather be clean-shaven and employed over bearded, unemployed, and broke I don't make a fuss. "That's fine, I'll shave it off tonight."

He shrinks somewhat. "Can you do it now?"

There was a pause. "Now? Like, right now?"

"You're gonna be in the kitchen so we need you to be cleaned up to meet health codes."

I also distinctly remember a few guys in the kitchen who had beards. I consider point out that fact but I don't make a fuss.

"I don't have a razor."

"Go ahead and finish up and I'll see what I can do."

Was it that my goatee was a little bit longer and bushier that the other guys? Or was it that they had full goatees while mine was only on the chin? Whatever, this fucking sucks.

Long story short, I had to get rid of it so I went to a nearby market, bought a 99 cent package of razors, and shaved it off in the bathroom (but not before performing Last Rites for my dear, longtime companion). It seemed to have earned me a few brownie points since the manager asked how I was doing throughout the night, and gave me extra study material before I left.

Still, I feel naked and vulnerable now. I've had that thing for eight years now. The only times I shaved it off were for weddings of some close friends and I grew it right back afterwards. And not only do I feel exposed, I now look like I'm 17.

Whatever, the important thing is that I have a job that I want to keep. I'm going to burn through training and kick ass on the floor. And it'll grow back. Which is what I'm going to do since there’s tangible evidence that facial hair in fact, allowed. I'll just have to keep it cleaner and shorter.

At least they didn't make me cut my hair.

Labels: goatee, hair, naked, server stories, waiting, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 1:25 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Job Search: Day 11 ::

My interview at the hotel seemed to work out okay since I got a call today for a second interview. It's one of those posh hotels on Ocean Drive that has a restaurant out front. I knew it was posh because the first time I walked in, I noticed a medley of oddly colored and shaped furniture in the lobby. There were also a guy and a girl at the door, whose sole job responsibility was to open the doors for people coming and going.

That and a while back, I went there with a friend to the bar at the terrace and had to pay eight dollars for a damn Newcastle.

It's owned by a hotel corporation so the multiple interviews wasn't surprising. What was surprising was the sheer number of people I had to talk to. Just for a job as the morning waiter (which, I have to admit, from the way they described it, the job might bore me. But I'm trying not to be picky. I just want to work.) There's the guy who called me both times who I think was one of the hotel H.R. directors. The lady who interviewed me (who made me wait almost ten minutes) was I think either another H.R. person or a manger I'm not sure. I talked with her about fifteen minutes and tried not to be distracted by the fact that she was a tiny, somewhat attractive Asian woman (even though her last name was "Brown" which threw me off) with a Southern accent.

Once we finished talking she told me that I'd be talking to another guy who actually works at the restaurant. Oh, okay. I wait for another ten minutes and I look over one of the more curious pieces of "furniture." I'm honestly not sure if it's for sitting on, putting your feet up, or some kinky sex furniture for weird positions. I spent the next three minutes imagining the possibilities until the guy finally comes down (and I tell myself if I get hired, I'm gonna steal one of those things).

The guy who turns out to be the Wine and Liquor (I think that's what he said) Director and he has a light Boston accent with a little bit of a lisp. We talk for another fifteen minutes and he gives me a more complete description of the restaurant as well as my job responsibilities (I know for sure I'm going to be bored) and asks questions about my work history, which he seems impressed by somewhat. I answer whatever questions he has (though I may have left out the whole thing about getting fired). We finish up and he tells me that he's going to have me come in for a second interview so I can talk to the restaurant manager, the restaurant H.R. guy, and I think he mentioned something about Emeril, I'm not sure.

I figure I at least passed the first round of tests so it's a good sign, I think. (Though I've been through this crap before and nothing happened so I'm not getting my hopes up.) I look at my clock and it's almost eleven.

I walk around some more and fill out applications at a few other place and get more of the same (we're not hiring but you can fill out an application). I talk to a few mangers, I get a possible lead, but as it is, this hotel restaurant seems my best bet. I just hope they don't make me cut my hair.

Labels: hair, job search, please just shoot me

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 11:29 PM [+] :: | 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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:: Server Stories: Halloween ::

My restaurant allows its staff to dress up for Halloween. I wasn't planning on dressing up until I got a call that morning from Chuck, and he really didn't want to be the only straight guy in costume. I relented and lacking time and creativity, slapped together at the last minute a male Hawaiian Hula Dancer that I had left over from a previous Halloween.

My hair has gotten long enough that the managers make me keep it up in a knot, whereas a ponytail was previously sufficient but for that night, they let me keep it down. I wouldn't be writing about it except for this: three random women that night asked me it that was my real hair - ??? - followed by something along the lines of "oh my gawd, it's so beautiful, I'm so jealous," etc.

Random women have been telling me how much they like my hair every now and then so I guess I should be used to it by now (that and some drunk guys from Pittsburg thought I was Steelers safety Troy Polamalu, though they didn't ask me for an autograph or anything, which would have been kinda weirdly cool), except I've never had anyone ask if it was a wig. Then again, considering the costumes I saw some guys wearing that night, I wasn't surprised. Kinda funny now that I think about it.

Labels: football, hair, halloween, NaBloPoMo, server stories, waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 2:24 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: On Second Thought... ::

I've been contemplating for a while whether or not to get my ear pierced. Nothing fancy, just my left one. I tell a female co-worker about this and her immediate reply was, "why? You already look like a girl with that hair."

I could have mentioned my big, hairy legs, broad shoulders or my scruffy facial hair, but there's really no coming back from something like that, is there?

All I could say was, "yeah, good point."

Labels: hair, piercings

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 1:55 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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