:: Life on Planet Dan-E ::

:: Disappointment ::

An afternoon playing my guitar or reading a good book is more fulfilling than most dates I've been on. Any women with substance in Miami? - Recent Twitter Update.

I've been flirting with a hostess that works at a restaurant nearby. I ask her to join me at a nearby bar after work one evening, and she eagerly agrees.

Cool, right? (If you think this has a happy ending, you don't know my life.)

We meet outside the bar and she greets me with a big smile and a kiss. "I hope you don't mind, some of the my friends are here." No worries. I've seen a few of her friends and many of them are, umm, hot. Except the first one she introduces me to is a bald guy wearing a ridiculous belt buckle the size of my head. As we shake hands, any concerns about him being competition is allayed by his flacid, almost delicate handshake. I'm thinking he's gay. Or so I thought. This guy has a thing for her but she's apparently undecided.

We have drinks, we dance (or at least, she danced and I tried to play along). "What's with you and that guy?"

"Oh, he's just a guy I work with."

I have misgivings about the night at this point. "So why is he staring at me like I fucked his wife?"

"Honestly, we're just friends but he gets like that." Wait, this has happened before?

I'm not looking for anything serious. I don't care if she's dating someone else. But don't let him tag along when we're going out, or did you skip that part in dating etiquette class?

"Really? I thought he's gay." She laughs. "You have a firmer handshake than this guy." "He's very Metro, but not gay." (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)

Whatever. "Next time, it's just the two of us." If there is a next time. "I promise."

We dance. We have fun. My plan was to go to a beer and wine lounge afterwards but I learn that Belt Buckle was allowed to tag along was because he knew the doorman at some hip new club on Collins. I thought I had to compete with guys who own Ferraris, live in hi-rise condos, or talk with a foreign accent. Apparently, that category now includes dudes who know bouncers.

She goes to the bathroom so I walk back to the bar to order a drink. I try to be the better man and get to know this guy but it's a pointless gesture as all he does is talk about himself and what a great chef he is (despite the fact that his main duty is the fry station.) I excuse myself go talk to her other friends, one of whom has such spectacular cleavage that I strain my neck trying to maintain eye contact. The Hostess (I'm thinking I need to date women in another line of work) returns and puts her arms around my waist, but I question if there's any sincerity to her gesture. "Can you come with us?"

"I had other plans." I tell her. My reply is accompanied by a dispassionate look. She looks back with a pouty, puppy-dog look and coos, "but I really want you to come."

Yeah, I caved.

We walk out and she tells the Belt Buckle that I'll be accompanying them. He sneers at me yet again and says that they'll never let me in because of my shoes. At this point, I decide I'm going home and let them fight it out. However, I can't just leave without giving this guy some shit.

"Why don't you use your culinary prowess and help me get in?"

"My what?"

"I thought you knew the guy at the door. Or are you just full of shit?"

"He won't like your shoes."

This was bullshit. I know this club and I had friends that got in wearing T-shirts and Vans. I had no intention of going but I wasn't about to let this guy off easy. I take a few steps towards him. "Why don't you just say that you don't want me to come?" The Hostess, fortunately, intercedes and also asks him to talk the doorman into letting us all through.

He weakly repeated," they won't like his shoes." I stare at him impassively but he's looking at the ground. I turn to her and ask "you really want to go with this guy?"

She pouts again. "I just want to go to this club."

"Have fun." I turn and walk away. "Can I call you when I leave?" "Night."

I head over to The Abby since I knew a friend from work would be there. I sit down next to him and order a stout. "How'd your date go?"

"Well, I'm here talking to you." He didn't press for details. I get home feeling a little too sober. As I'm pouring some bourbon, I get a text.

"Im goin home. Can i c u again latr?"

I don't feel like dealing with her. Besides, I have Woodford Reserve in front of me now.

"Ill think about it."

A moment later my phone rings. It's her. She wants talk. Women always want to talk. She tells me the club turned out to be a dud. I can't help but chuckle silently. She wants to hang again and asks for another chance. You had your chance I almost say, but instead, "whatever is going on between you two, you need to get that worked out."

"There's nothing going on, I just work with him."

Aww, hell. Given my dry spell, one more chance probably won't kill me. We meet for lunch a few days later. She redeems herself somewhat over sandwiches. She is animated and fun. Unlike many women, she asks me questions. Conversation is easy but I feel like something is missing.

Yeah, she's cute, intelligent, and has a nice ass but... I couldn't let go of the fact that she invited another guy to our date. Intentions don't matter, you don't do that. Our interaction over lunch lacked our usual playful flirting. Maybe she's nervous? I certain had my guard up. She did apologize and now we're enjoying lunch together. Maybe the onus is on me to let it go. Perhaps I should just enjoy the moment.

I can't. I have standards but at the same time I don't ask for much. I'm tired of disappointment.

Labels: dating, frustration, idiots, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 12:35 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Thinking too Much ::

"There a lady from the Lowe's Hotel sitting in the lounge. I need you to take care of her."

Why me? "The cocktail server can't take of that?"

"We don't have one anymore, remember?" Oh, right. " Besides, they want to eat dinner there so I need you to do it."

"Then why is she sitting in the lounge?" The lounge is normally a drinks-only area for people to sit while waiting for a table to open up.

"I was going to put her in your section but she said the music is way too loud."

Great. I wasn't in a bad mood or anything but I had a lot on my mind and I just wanted a smooth night. I didn't need this shit.

"Anyway, she could bring us a lot of a business so I need you to go there and pamper the fuck out of her."

Great, another high-maintenance hotel drone. I already have four tables. I let out a sigh. "Which on is she?" "The one in the black dress." "No problem."

As I approach the lounge I see it's two blondes I couldn't help but notice earlier. One is a young six-footer with long, tanned legs emerging from a painted-on, low-cut, zebra-striped mini-dress. The one in the black dress is shorter, curvier, and sporting miles of cleavage. They both very attractive, but sullen. As I get closer I notice Black Dress is a little older. In fact her and Zebra Stripes share a resemblance and... wait, is that her MOM?! Note to self-don't flirt with Zebra Stripes.

They're sitting with a greasy-looking guy in a grey suit, on the the cushy sofas that encourage lounging and the zebra mini-dress is riding up quite distractingly. Oh yeah, her legs aren't crossed. Since you're not here to read about some seedy upskirt crap I'll end it here by saying I didn't see anything. (Despite my best efforts.)

To make a long story short, I pampered the fuck out of her and even got them to splurge on some oysters, lobster, and abottle of Veuve. The Black Dress is initially grumpy but, I answer every absurd question she had, serve her exactly what she needed, and in the end, she actually smiled.

At the end of the night, I'm sitting in the the office, lost in my own thoughts as the manager looks over my paperwork. She asks me if the lady was happy.

"I don't think so."

She looks up. "What happened."

"I don't know. She just doesn't seem like a happy person. Maybe she's not content with life. Maybe she's just yearning for her lost youth."

"What?"

"You look at the way she's dressed, like she's looking to recapture some of the attention she might have received she was younger. And the fact that she lets her daughter dress that way, it's almost like she's living vicariously through her kid."

The manager, by now, has her face contorted trying to figure out exactly what I'm babbling about.

"From the way she talks, the way she asked for things, her demeanor, and even her posture, she doesn't seem happy at all. Probably hasn't been happy in a long time."

She leans forward towards me and says, "Dan-E, I need you to focus and listen to my question: was she happy with her dining experience?"

"Oh." Is that what you meant. "Umm, yeah, she loved her lobster tail."

She leans back in her chair and releases an exasperated laugh. "I don't know what to make of you sometimes."

"Yeah, my mind was elsewhere."

"No kidding. Stop thinking so much."

"Yeah, I do that sometimes."

Labels: introspective, thinking too much, waiting, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 2:00 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Cryin' ::

I was making small talk with the girl from my that date the other night. She was wearing this gold tank top and I started poking fun at her for it by pretending she was an awards statue.

She thought it was funny at first but later told me that she sometimes practices her award-winning speech in front of the mirror. Did I mention before that she's trying to be an actress? Now, I haven't dated a lot of actresses so I don't know if this is a common thing or not but I didn't find it too odd. And being friends with sports fans, my friends and I do, on occasion after a few drinks, make fun of the typical athletes' celebratory speech or post-game interview.

"I wanna thank my Lord and Savior..."

"We all gave a 110%..."

"They really brought their A-game..."

"No comment."

I mentioned this and she suddenly got serious, saying it's not a joke to her saying it's her dream to make it big. Okay, that's fine and all but lighten up a little? This is where it got a little odd for me. She then said she occasionally cries while she practices this speech.

Really?

I like to get into character when I do it, she says.

Is it wrong of me that I wanted to start laughing? Or am I just being an asshole? Rhetorical question. Far be it for me to poke fun at someone's hopes and dreams (especially for the unjaded few I meet in MIami that still have hopes and dreams) but, I don't know, making yourself cry like that just seems a little odd. Like said, I haven't dated a lot of actresses.

Labels: dating, unintentional humor, weird, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 7:34 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: I Just Died a Little ::

I remember the Manny trade when it happened. Quite clearly in fact because I was writing an anti-Manny rant on my blog. It surprised me. I didn't care for it.

Some of my misgivings were allayed as we squeaked into the playoff and upset the hugely favored Cubs. Literally every story I read out of Los Angeles extolled his positive influence in the clubhouse, especially the younger players who saw him as Yoda with a bat.

Then came the offseason speculation of which team he would sign with. Dodger players openly lobbied for his signing. I couldn't argue. He's as good a role model as any - as long as we're only talking about hitting, and in an idiot-savant kind of way - for baseball prospects to emulate. I wasn't thrilled when he eventually signed but it was only two years, and the second year was an option anyway.

Like with so many things, my optimism was cautious. The kids' stats (seriously, look at the jumps in OPS) were noticeably better. There was a buzz permeating Dodger Stadium. We just won 13 home games in a row. Yeah, it was against a soft schedule but this was a promising start.

And then this happened.

That editorial articulates my feelings better than I ever could. I knew, I just knew that given his acrimonious departure Boston that there was too much potential for unnecessary drama looming. But I couldn't foresee anything like this. we went from "this is going to be a good season" to "I just hope we don't implode." I'm gonna go beat myself into a pulp with a fungo bat.

Labels: baseball, frustration, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 6:35 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: More Steaks ::

I can cook a Ribeye or Porterhouse steak that could rival anything you might get out of a steakhouse, and I can do it without a grill or fancy broilers. I'll serve it with grilled asparagus or garlicky sauteed wild mushroom worthy of any great cut of beef.

But my numerous attempts at chicken fried steak with a side of country-style potatoes usually end up at best, average. At least to my palate. WTF?

Yes, it bothers me a little that there are a few grill cooks at a Denny's or a Waffle House that would laugh at my dish.

Labels: cooking, steaks, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 12:50 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Fettuccine, Linguini, Martini, Bikini ::

As much as I love spending time in the kitchen some friends are surprised that I don't own any of those informercial cooking products that blare from the TV at three in the morning. (They're probably asking because they know I'm usually awake at three in the morning.)

It's a good question actually and my answer usually falls along the lines of either "it looks like a piece of shit" or "I prefer doing it old-school." It's why I never owned a George Foreman Grill (I prefer a good skillet AND I like the grease to stay put when I cook my steaks, thank you), one of those Ronco rotisserie ovens (doesn't work well with cedar planks), or any type of food storage savers (I never have leftovers and nothing lasts very long in my fridge.)

You guys know about my love of a good cheeseburger so I almost picked up one of those Big City Slider Stations until I read this review. "Smells of noxious chemicals" doesn't sound very appetizing and I prefer a good full-size burger anyway. Also, judging from the size of your typical slider, I'd have to eat at least twelve or so of these before I got full and I don't have that kind of time. (Actually I do these days but, whatever.)

I do a lot of chopping and dicing when I cook so when I first saw the informercial for the Slap Chop it seemed like a Godsend... Until I realized the "star" is that same hypermanic guy pushing the Sham-wow. I don't know about you but I can't not laugh at this thing. There's his classic line at the 0:37 mark that I can't believe made it past the writers and directors of this car crash. There's a part of me that wants to buy this thing for the sole purpose of being able to use that line on some friends while keeping a straight face.

Then there's classic line number two when he's talking about the "Gratey." "Fettuccine, linguini, martini, bikini." I don't know about you but I have this visual of an Italian Bistro in the Bahamas that features a swim-up bar.

After watching that a couple of times, he killed it for me. Something about him just seems... off, and not just because he could be the A.D.H.D. posterchild who reuses to take his medication. He seems like a guy that would try to peddle real-estate deals to people who got ripped off by Bernie Madoff. That and the Slap Chop just seem like it would come apart after two weeks so it falls under the "piece of shit" category. I have a decent chef's knife. I'll stick with that for now.

Side note: Am I the only one that saw the informercial for the Snuggie and got creeped out?

Labels: cheeseburger, cooking, humor, unintentional comedy, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 5:11 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: 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
.....

:: And no Taxpayer Dollars were Used... ::

... to construct this stadium just in time for the Super Bowl. What can I say? Stuff like this makes me smile.

Labels: awesomeness, food, football, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 12:40 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: It Seemed like a Good Idea... ::

... but quite frankly I have no idea what to make of these women wearing a bikini make of bacon. Taken separately, they're two things I really like to put in my mouth (wait, what?) but combine the two and it's just a little odd. Even for me.

Maybe it's our version of eating sushi off a naked woman but I just can't see this catching on at restaurants across America. Ironically, when I first heard about the naked sushi thing, my reaction was along the lines of "and?' Go figure.

Labels: bacon, food, naked, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 11:46 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Football Round 2 Recap ::

Last weekend's football results made me nostalgic for the good ol' days when things like home field advantage, experienced quarterbacks, bye weeks, and statistical analysis actually meant something. Instead, we had the goofiest results this late in the playoff in a long time. That sound you heard Saturday evening was the thousands of people who lost money that day.

Tennessee had the best record on the regular season thanks to a stifling defense and balanced, steady offense. Baltimore had an equally good defense but were "led" by rookie QB Joe Flacco. Thanks to three ill-timed fumbles, the Ravens won despite Flacco completing only 50% of his passes, possibly because they were deflected by his unibrow. My pick: Tennessee.

Philly somehow Forrest Gump-ed their way into the playoffs despite playing wildly inconsistent all season. (They lost to Washington twice including a 10-3 snoozer that made soccer games exciting; and a bizarre 13-13 tie to Cincy, one of the worst teams in the league). Beating Minnesota wasn't a big surprise but watching Eli play like it was his rookie year was a little surprising. He let loose more floaters than I do after eating at a Mexican buffet. My pick: New York.

The snow game in Pittsburgh was a classic, if you define "classic" as "complete blowout." Sandy Eggo lost by eleven points but it wasn't really that close. Absolutely true fact; Sandy Eggo had possession for exactly one play, which was an interception in the entire third quarter. Absolutely true fact that I might have made up; Darren Sproles is actually a Hobbit. He's the fastest Hobbit from the Shire and I think maybe the fact that he had to wear spikes slowed him down. My Pick: Pittsburgh.

Carolina was 8-0 at home during the regular season while Arizona was 3-5 on the road, including 0-5 at games played in the Eastern Time Zone. Arizona had the fewest cumulative rushing yards during the regular season (less than even the bottom-feeding Detroit Lions), while Carolina had the third most prolific ground game. Knowing all this, for some reason, I still picked Arizona to win the game. Why? Call me crazy, I had a gut feeling. Also, I wasn't betting any money on it. If I was playing in even a $5 playoff pool, you'd better believe I would have picked the Panthers. (Fuck my life.)

Next week, Arizona and Philly will play for the chance to play in the Super Bowl. It's the only time that two teams with less than ten wins have ever faced off in a divisional championship game. One month ago when both these teams were floundering, if I told you that they'd both be one game away from the finals, you'd think I was hitting the Jack Daniels a little too hard (then again, you could have said the same thing last weekend). You can't predict anything in this league. Anyone can win any game at any time.

Last year, Baltimore was 5-11 and now they're playing in the AFC championship game. Last year, Arizona was 8-8. While they improved by only one game, they're now playing in the NFC championship game. Good God, the Lions might be respectable next year.

(Who am I kidding, they're years away from merely "no long a laughing stock.”)

Labels: football, humor, NFL, picks, sports, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 11:02 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Football Woes ::

I've been a long time SanFran 49ers fan through the good times (back when we won the Super Bowl XXIX against Sandy Eggo 1995) and through the bad times (pretty much every year since then). I've tried to stay loyal when we became the laughing stock the last few years, but I had a glimmer of hope when we hired coach Mike Nolan.

When Nolan was fired, Mike Singletary, known in Chicago as the "Heart of the Defense" and having borderline psychotic intensity on the field during his years as a linebacker, seemed like a good idea at the time.

This guy spends his offseason as a motivational speaker, so it was reasonable to assume he'd be able to spark some intensity into an otherwise lackadaisical team.

And then he pulls this stunt. His reasoning? "I used my pants to illustrate that we were getting our tails whipped on Sunday and how humiliating that should feel for all of us. I needed to do something to dramatize my point; there were other ways I could have done it but I think this got the message across."

First off, why in the name of Venus' taint did this ever become public? Is this really something you want reported in the news? Second... for the love of God WHY?

I think I need to find a new football team. Any suggestions?

Labels: football, frustration, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 12:05 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Olympics ::

I didn't really pay much attention to the Olympics beyond men's basketball, baseball, and women's beach volleyball and softball.

But I'd flip it on every now and then and I would occasionally see an event where my first thought is "this is considered a sport?"

Handball? "Race Walk?" Trampoline? Last time I checked, trampoline is something drunk people jumped on during a backyard BBQ. At this rate, beer pong should be a "sport" by 2016.

Labels: sports, unintentional comedy, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 12:02 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Flat ::

I've been contemplating buying a bike for a while. The only thing that's kept me is the rampant petty theft so prevalent in South Beach. Back when I was in art school, I knew one guy who went through three bikes, five bike seats, seven wheels and tires, two handlebars, and even a set of pedals. In one year.

But now that my job has a place for employees to store our bikes indoors, I'm less worried about it being stolen. I took the bus over to the Target since a couple of my co-workers also bought bikes there. Of course, since I was already there, I stopped by Five Guys to get my cheeseburger fix.

I'm not looking for anything fancy, just a decent bike that can haul my fat ass between work and home and not break apart. This way I don't break sweat while walking to work or spend money on a cab. I find a good one for only $90 and I also grab a sturdy-looking lock for $12. Considering my budget was $160 or so, I did all right. This was cool. My first set of wheels in five years. I'm going to enjoy this.

Then I tried to ride home.

I was okay until I hit the Macarthur causeway and discovered I'd be pedaling roughly three miles into the wind. I shouldn't have stopped running. That sucked. And then just before I make it across, there's a small "hill" I have to crest just before Alton Road. That really sucked.

I finally made it over the hump and got back on the beach... only to discover my rear tire was getting flat. I JUST bought the damn thing and I ALREADY have a flat? (God either hates me or he just needed a good laugh after a long week.)

This map shows you roughly my route (I went down Biscayne instead of the freeway, obviously. I forget my rocket boosters at home) from Target to where I discovered my flat tire. Fortunately, there's a gas station nearby and I had just enough air. I thought that maybe it was simply under inflated and I didn't notice until now.

I go home, take a quick shower because I'm drenched in sweat from the ride. When I'm ready to head to work, the tire is flat. So once again, I have to walk to work and once again, I arrive with my shirt sticking to my body from the sweat. It's a good thing I appreciate irony.

Labels: bike, five guys, frustration, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 1:31 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: 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
.....

:: Hospital ::

Thanks to the well wishers who were nice enough to leave comments in the last post. That was very kind of you. The rest of you readers can eat my ass. Just kidding. This was the first in my adult life I had to go to the hospital as a patient and can I tell you? It SUCKED.

The short version is that my stay was caused by hyponatremia. It's a case of severe electrolyte imbalance from low sodium levels in the body. (Read more about it here and here). In my case, it started after a round of tennis Saturday morning. I usually chug some water beforehand since I naturally sweat a lot. But I had some diarrhea beforehand from eating ceviche the night before and didn't compensate for it. I played my usual time, it wasn't any warmer or more humid than before, but I felt a little lightheaded once I got home. I didn't drink my usual amount of water but I refilled my water bottle twice while playing, which I thought would be plenty.

Once I got home, I chugged a couple more glasses of water before stretching out my kinks. Then the cramps started. It started in my legs, moved up to my back, then my abdomen, and even my toes. I was still feeling light headed. I drank another glass of water. I made my way to the restroom to pee but I noticed the volume was inconsistent with my intake, and what little came out was this putrid yellow color. Heat exhaustion? Maybe.

I read a lot of sports articles so I'm familiar with the symptoms of heat exhaustion. I also read about hyponatremia but it never crossed my mind since the articles I read usually related to endurance athletes (marathoners, triathletes). I drank more water and stood under a cold shower for a while. (I should point out that my glass is a little larger than your average water glass.)

Didn't help much. I became dizzy, my breathing was shallow, and my hands were cold. My hands are almost never cold. On top of that I felt nauseous. As stupid as it may sound, that was my first indication that something might be really wrong since I have a Seinfeld-like streak of never vomiting .

I got home before one and now it's almost four. I have to be at work in an hour and I can't even stand up without feeling faint. I somehow manage to call work and tell Antonio that I'm not sure if I can make it. He knows my track record in my short time there so for me to call in sick, he knows something's up. He tells me to stay home and get better.

When I tried to walk to the fridge to get more water, my legs gave out. My nausea built up to the point where I had to throw up. I somehow make it to the bathroom and I vomit almost nothing but water. No blood, fortunately but I'm actually somewhat upset that I broke my streak. I still had my phone so I dialed 911 while wondering why the ceiling was spinning faster than the ceiling fan. The paramedics show up, and I try to explain to them what happened in as much detail as possible.

I barely remember the ride to the hospital. I kinda remember being handed a clipboard in the waiting room, but my vision was blurry and my hands were so weak I couldn't write anything. I vaguely remember laying on a gurney with the doctors asking me what happened, asking my name, the date, and if I knew where I was (earth!). I distinctly remember trying to explain but I just couldn't find the words. I can only imagine how incoherent I must have seemed. "Played tennis... dehydrated... cramps... diarrhea... dizzy..."

I woke up a few hours later and saw blurry silhouettes of people looking down at me. Once I gathered my senses, I noticed I had an oxygen tube in my nose, a bandage inside my left elbow, and an I.V. drip on my right hand. I had these sticky things on my chest with wires attached, and those wired led to a heart monitor. I wasn’t flatlined, which I took as a good sign. I finally saw these people looking down at me and half-expected a large black man to lean over and say "hello Neo." I pass out again.

A little later, I wake up again, feeling a little closer to normal. I stay awake, and I realize I have this massive urge to pee. I try to get up, and I vaguely hear a lady say "not again" and walk over to my bed. "Sir, please don't try to more around. You have to stay in bed." My first coherent words of the night were, "dude, I have to piss." She hands me a jar. You're fucking kidding me right? Oh this is gonna suck. I do this a few more times during the night, which apparently shows the doctors I'm healthy enough to remove from the ER and into an intensive care room.

On the way up a nurse tells me exactly what happened. It's then he mentions hyponatremia. Really. I thought maybe my heat exhaustion advanced to a heat stroke, but I got fired from a restaurant despite being the only one there who didn't do drugs, so what the hell do I know. I ask what would have happened if I didn't call 911. "You might have suffered from brain damage, maybe fallen into a coma..." Oh, good to know.

Basically, I lost a lot of salt and fluids from all the sweating and didn't replace the salt. I overdid it in replacing the fluids, throwing my electrolyte balance completely out of whack.

They wheel my to my room, complete with a TV and a brand new urine jug. Great. I look at the clock. It's after 3am.

I end up staying all of Sunday and Monday, despite my constant pleas to leave. I felt fine, I wasn't suffering any ill effects, and I was getting sick of having my blood drawn (eight times! EIGHT! My left elbow looks worse than a heroine addicts'). The reason they kept me so long was to make sure my CPK levels returned to normal. I think one of the nurses told me when I arrived, my CPK levels were around 3000, and normally, healthy levels are... umm... considerably less (somewhere in the low hundreds if I remember correctly and a lot of my recollection is a little hazy).

During my stay, I have to pee into a jug, endure having my blood drawn repeatedly, and deal with limited mobility thanks to being hooked up to an I.V. the whole time. (It was a 9% sodium solution in case you're curious. You probably should know these things.) I don't sleep well. I fight boredom. I have bizarre dreams I think too much (never a good thing). The food is bad. I hate this place.

But I keep telling myself that it beats brain damage or death.

I finally get released Tuesday afternoon. I'm relieved more than anything. The nurse tells me that while my CPK levels aren't quite back to normal, they've dropped fast enough that I'm safe as long as I follow a few precautions. She tells me avoid sports for a while, and to drink lots of Gatorade over the next few days.

It's about one when I get home. Mike looks hungry. Rick-E is nowhere to be seen. I figure he's sleeping under my sheets again. I take a nice cool shower and get ready for work. I walk into my closet for some fresh clothes and see my cat sitting on top of the shelf like he's Simba on Pride Rock. How the hell did he get up there? I look down and see the pile of clothes and hangers strew about the floor. That's how. I wanna be mad I'm more impressed than anything, kinda like Ron Burgundy when his dog pooped in the fridge but at a whole wheel of cheese.

There's been a lot going through my mind those few days in the hospital and afterwards, and I'll probably blog about it later. But I'm happy to still be here. But I never want to go through that again.

Labels: exercise, hospital, still here, tennis, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 4:47 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Job Search: What did you call me? ::

I've been getting to know the staff pretty well that over the last few days since it's either been slow at the restaurant and we've had time to stand around and talk or we go out for beers after work. One of the guys comes up with a new nickname for me every few days, some of the guys are already at the stage where we feel comfortable talking shit to each other, and a few of the girls there are in love with my massages. (They're also jealous of my hair, which is weird and kinda cool at the same time. Know what I'm talking about? Um, neither do I.)

(It's the polar opposite of the last place in that while I don't really like working there, I like the people who do.)

Anyway, there's this bartender who always calls everyone "honey," "sweetie," or "baby." She seems nice enough but we've never had any substantial conversations beyond stuff like how long we've been living in South Beach or our favorite booze.

One night after work a few of use head to the bar after work. The bartender and I were talking while I'm waiting for my Guinness to settle. She gets her vodka cranberry and heads back to our table. As she walks away she calls me "Sweet Cheeks."

Now, I've met plenty of women who always use expressions like "honey," "sweetie," or "baby" and I've never read anything into it. But "sweet cheeks?"

That's new.

Labels: bars, guinness, weird, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 2:39 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Server Stories: The New Job ::

The last post was about how I got the job. This post is about what the job is like.

The short version is that so far it's... eh. I haven't made much money despite the fact that the prices are considerably higher than my old job. For one, the nights have been slow and being the new guy, I don't get a good section until I pay my dues.

On my first night on the floor as a waiter, I walk up to my first (and only) table of the night and I greet the couple by saying, "good evening, welcome to Seafood Grill." Don't even bother, I'll say it for you: I'm a fucking idiot. Old habits are hard to break. Fortunately, it's an older couple and the music is going so they don't hear much beyond "welcome."

Tuesday and Wednesday night were snoozers. It was slow and no one really did much of anything. Thursday night, I got assigned to a party of 125 people in the mezzanine. No problem except it was a gropu of Italian Nationals and only a handful of people in the party spoke even passable English. Everyone else insisted on speaking Italian despite the fact that I don’t look remotely Italian. Also working against us was that they didn’t assign enough servers, there were two new guys and the party Captain was also a first time Captain. All things considering, he did a pretty good job making sure everything that needed to be done got done but it was an ordeal. In the end, the customers were happy and we walked out with a decent payday.

Friday was okay. Saturday sucked because it was the coldest night of the month and I was assigned an outdoor section. I had three tables the entire night. I picked up a 7-top indoors because of one of the waiters wanted to leave early. Cool, just transfer it and I'll take over. Except they spoke mainly Spanish and were very high maintenance. He also failed to mention that there were a few items they turned away that he conveniently forgot to ask the manager to void leaving me to explain why Table 11 was asking to speak to management. I had Sunday off and I used it to decompress and run some errands.

Monday SUCKED because although I finally got a full section, it was indoors and the weather finally warmed up enough that the majority of the customers wanted to dine al fresco. I walked home with $22.

Honestly though, it's just a run of bad luck and like averages in baseball, things will improve.

I'm venting and ranting somewhat but truth be told, it's not all bad. The majority of my co-workers are really cool people, and many of them have been more than happy to help me out if I have a question or five. They invited me out for drinks on my third night and got to know some of the folks. One of the girls is already in love with my shoulder rub techniques. Couple of the guys and I have already bonded to the point that we're already talking shit to each other.

The General Manager, like any good GM, knows his stuff, regales the staff with stories of his accomplishments, loves the sound of his own voice, and is viewed by the staff with either apathy or acrimony. The two assistant managers on the other hand, seem like good people.

Antonio has been there for only two months but he's the friendly one that goes around and greets the staff before work. It seems however, that the staff views him as the GM's puppet (or "puppy" depending on the person's grasp of American euphemism.

Vera is an absolute sweetheart. She always sits patiently and answers my numerous questions, doesn't go on ego trips, is exceedingly friendly, and is always willing to help someone out. It's somewhat surprising since literally every manager I've worked for has some sort of character flaw that manifests itself eventually, be it ego, melodrama, power-trippers, inability to handle pressure, or lackadaisical work ethics. I saw none of this, though it may be because I haven't been there long enough. Also, perhaps because she's part French, is about 5'10," and possesses a willowy body, but she's always dressed impeccably. It's too bad she's a smoker. And married. And completely out of my league.

Still, this beats sitting around on my ass, nursing sore feet from walking around South Beach job hunting, and watching Food Network reruns.

Labels: rants, server stories, waiting, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 1:56 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: 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
.....