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Cute Waiters Are My Kryptonite
Young, hot waiters with flirty eyes and a come-hither smile are a god-send when one is in a bad mood. Especially those fishing for a handsome reward at the end of the meal.
And I was lucky enough to cozy right up to one those types at dinner tonight. He was elegantly tall, not all gangly and all arms and legs, had a yummy ass, and big toothy grin meant to disarm even the tightest wallet, and a friendly southern demeanor. He was young enough to ooze that innocence of youth, yet old enough to keep me out of jail. Did I mention he even smelled like a bit of ambrosia had fallen onto his lightly tanned skin – just enough to hint at how intoxicating his skin would smell if I were nuzzled deep into his collar bone.
Luckily for me, my younger friend was with me and together managed to make total and complete fools of ourselves to the meriment of all the sane, normal folks around us.
First, my friend was so distracted by the waiter’s looks after he took our drink order that she managed to smack her eatiing utensils and like a fulcrum, send them flying onto the table next to us.
Then our drinks come, and she managed to laugh like a hyena in heat when he turned away from us, which meant he turned around to see what had lodged in her throat, and she blushed all red and managed to send her phone flying onto the floor. I upped the stupidity ante by spewing my tea all over the table because her phone shattered into a dozen little pieces.
Next, my friend discovered that he liked refilling my tea. So she was pressuring me to drink my tea faster and faster. Before I knew it, I had swilled five glasses and was ready to float out the door, just so we could keep him coming back to the table.
Then dessert. Mistake. I was ready to explode tea from every orafice, and she wants dessert. I have since passed the excitement of the cute waiter, since i was now the “idiot tea girl.” But, we got one of those cake things with the ice cream and way too much chocolate – the diabetic coma type. Of course, Mr. Perfect Ass Waiter had to do a big flourish and show of laughing and saying smart witty things as he put the cake thingy down in front of us. I was crying tea from my eyeballs now – but I managed to down another glass, so he had to come back. This time, my friend blatantly stared at his tight buns as he walked away.
I laughed at her, she got flustered, and with a sinlge swipe of her arm in an effort to throw her napkin at me, she sent her full water glass flying across the aisle and drenching the nice family who sat across from us. I was doubled over laughing and terrified the tea would pick that moment to make a grand escape – so I ran to the restroom as fast as I could laughing my ass off.
I get back and the check is waiting. It was my turn to pay, so I did, with a cc. As i was signing the receipt, she was writing the waiter this flirty, call me, you’re hot as hell note. She put her phone number on it, and we both agreed that he wouldn’t forget us.
However as i was walking into the parking lot a thought hit me like a ton of tea bags (not the icky boy kind). She signed her name to the note and left a number. i signed the credit card slip. She and I have the same first name.
I barely made it to a tea extraction area.
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Im Tired
Im so tired of stuff. And the sad thing is stuff can be categorized in a varied and random lot of things, ideas, or just life. I don’t even know which stuff to start with in this blog. Stuff is bogging down my life, and I think the world in general. Saying I wanna streamline my life could possibly qualify as the understatement of the year.
I think the most recent thing to complicate my overly used brain is the new Website. I made it for me, and then people got out of hand. No surprise. Is there a reason I can’t do something for me? There are too many Web sites out there as it is. Each one wants users and likes to steal, and bartar to get the best ones. I just did something for me, and people freaked out. They acted like I had killed their puppy. I don’t think so – so in the end, I just stole myself. I got unbanned, but am unsure if I even want to post somewhere I get treated like shite.
The second most recent thing is that I told a good friend to piss off, and never talk to me again. I may have over reacted on this one, but hey, if I don’t over react or overthing, then I’m not me. It’s the temper. I’m lousy with rage until I get some time to think about it. But, this time, I went off. This friend was describing how he had found the love of his life after a “fun” weekend. And, basically he told me that “thanks, it’s been fun sharing everything about my life with you, but I longer want you around.” He handled it poorly, and again confirmed my belief that men can’t really be trusted for anything.
The other thing is the weather. I hate cold weather. But I’m chained to my house with four-inch thick links. Stupid housing market bubble buster; and the ex who used the house to pay for his masters from which I no longer benefit. I want to be somewhere warm and sunny and problem free. I don’t want to have to think about scraping my windshield or shoveling my driveway by myself.
So, I’m tired of all this stuff. I need to find new stuff.
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So i took a huge leap
I decided to take a big ass leap. I’ve made my own site. I can blog however much as I want here. And, I hope others come to blog. I’m not so much into videos, but have at it if you want. There won’t be a lot of features, cuz I really don’t understand it all.
But I want a place for us to blog without the crap spammers, cuz I’ll just who ever pisses me off – cuz I don’t care, and as it says “because it’s really my world.”
Put up good stuff please.
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Hit it a little harder…
With a big explosion (not really, more like a dull thud), my bathroom fan gave up the ghost a week ago. I can’t live without my bathroom fan because I tend to steam up the mirror (um, no). So, I turned to trusty Amazon, and ordered a new one.
That said, tonight was installation night. Or as I now refer to it: Why won’t you miserable piece of rotted cow intestine fit into the hole that was preappointed by the previous owner? Just fit, right back where I had yanked you out of the ceiling. Reverse engineering, mofo, a simple concept, and yet, not happening.
After an hour of cussing, and throwing things, and cussing, and crying, and looking up ceiling fan motor installation on Bing, I drank a beer, and tried again.
Repeat above scene.
I sat the motor on the kitchen table and had a heart to heart with it.
Me: Motor, why don’t you fit where you’re supposed to?
Motor: silence
Me: Motor, why can’t you be a sweety and help me out?
Motor: silence
Me: Motor, I’m going to get the hammer and make you fit.
Motor: silence
Me: (pleading) Please, please, motor worked.I tried again, and used a hammer to gently help it into it’s hole, and in the process I knocked loose a torrent of nasty, gross, foul, decades old gunk from the fan casing. Who knows how many dead skin cells from who knows how many people fell into my face. Yippeee!
Pissed, I used the hammer a little more judiciously, and juuuuust managed to get it to fit. And now it runs with a weird clicking sound and has a hitch in the rhythm.
But no more steam. (um, no).