Saturday, October 16, 2004
It's the best thing you can do with your clothes on.
That's what the old, gray-haired, nameless man from Kansas told me about skydiving last night. He also said that, if skydiving were a quickie, hang-gliding would be like going all night long.
It's amazing the things people will tell the girl who brings them their beer. Especially the girl in the short, pleaded plaid skirt. They'll tell you where they are from, what they do for a living, how their marriage is going, and about whatever else comes up over a few hours of drinking, without even having to disclose their name.
I guess there's a certain amount of anonymity that comes with the bar conversation territory.
Of course, there are the occasional comments from those who just must be completely spineless. "Are you Scottish, because I'm dying to know what's under that kilt."
I shit you not, someone actually said that to me yesterday. I wanted to fuckin' hit him. If that wasn't bad enough, they pushed the joke even further, and then when the guy's friend came to meet them he whispers to me, "Are you Scottish?"
Ugh. The weird thing was I wasn't as embarrassed for myself as I was for the only female in their company. They were these business types, on a lunch, and two of them were about to catch a flight to somewhere in the afternoon. The woman was a buyer or something, I heard her say.
Sometimes, especially at lunch, I see these "successful" people, and what they have to wear, and whom they have to hang around with, and I'm just not sure if it's worth it. I'm such a homebody. I kind of like just being casual and getting to say almost whatever comes to mind on the job. I kind of like that people give me money for that.
I like the rock star life.
Another table I had were these three really attractive, seemingly shy guys. One of them was married; the other two weren't. Turns out two of them were working as law clerks, and one was a dentist. The two clerks went to law school in Boston. They didn't tell me which one, and I didn't really care, but it was implied. They were obviously well to do.
Anyway, I was just bullshitting with them. The only reason I asked if they were married was because this table of two girls actually moved from another waitress's section to mine so they could sit at a table with a better view of these guys. I tried to help them out, but the guys weren't interested.
But then the girls left, and the guys were eventually joined by a group of people, also kind of preppy, and well to do, and the new group included a few women, and the vibe totally changed. For a while I had gone over there to chat when I had free moments; after that I felt awkward, so I just did my job. In my head I was like, "This is who you roll with?"
I don't know. I guess I'm trying to re-evaluate my idea of what kind of guy I would like to date, and those guys seemed pretty cool, until I imagined having drinks at that table, and I just wouldn't want to. And then I found myself wondering if either one of those guys would've gone out and had a beer and played Ms. Pac Man with me, and if it would be the best time ever. But I just don't know.
It's nice to have something to say, though. I will say that. Even if it is about work. I've been working a lot, but it's nice to know I'm gaining something from it, other than money. And the money is nice. I ended up making like $30 off those guys and their friends alone. I was rockin' that shit. Uh-huh.
I was rockin' that shit so hard I'm rewarding myself by going out an buying a hat today. I've been checking out hats at the nearby Foley's on my lunch break, but I couldn't bring myself to buy one while shopping alone, for obvious reasons. This line from You've Got Mail keeps trailing in and out of my brain whenever I'm tempted to buy one. It's this part when Meg Ryan's character is e-mailing Joe Fox about seeing a butterfly in the subway. And how it got off at a certain stop and flew off to who knows, maybe Bloomingdales, "to buy a hat that would be a mistake. As almost all hats are."
I love that movie.
That's what the old, gray-haired, nameless man from Kansas told me about skydiving last night. He also said that, if skydiving were a quickie, hang-gliding would be like going all night long.
It's amazing the things people will tell the girl who brings them their beer. Especially the girl in the short, pleaded plaid skirt. They'll tell you where they are from, what they do for a living, how their marriage is going, and about whatever else comes up over a few hours of drinking, without even having to disclose their name.
I guess there's a certain amount of anonymity that comes with the bar conversation territory.
Of course, there are the occasional comments from those who just must be completely spineless. "Are you Scottish, because I'm dying to know what's under that kilt."
I shit you not, someone actually said that to me yesterday. I wanted to fuckin' hit him. If that wasn't bad enough, they pushed the joke even further, and then when the guy's friend came to meet them he whispers to me, "Are you Scottish?"
Ugh. The weird thing was I wasn't as embarrassed for myself as I was for the only female in their company. They were these business types, on a lunch, and two of them were about to catch a flight to somewhere in the afternoon. The woman was a buyer or something, I heard her say.
Sometimes, especially at lunch, I see these "successful" people, and what they have to wear, and whom they have to hang around with, and I'm just not sure if it's worth it. I'm such a homebody. I kind of like just being casual and getting to say almost whatever comes to mind on the job. I kind of like that people give me money for that.
I like the rock star life.
Another table I had were these three really attractive, seemingly shy guys. One of them was married; the other two weren't. Turns out two of them were working as law clerks, and one was a dentist. The two clerks went to law school in Boston. They didn't tell me which one, and I didn't really care, but it was implied. They were obviously well to do.
Anyway, I was just bullshitting with them. The only reason I asked if they were married was because this table of two girls actually moved from another waitress's section to mine so they could sit at a table with a better view of these guys. I tried to help them out, but the guys weren't interested.
But then the girls left, and the guys were eventually joined by a group of people, also kind of preppy, and well to do, and the new group included a few women, and the vibe totally changed. For a while I had gone over there to chat when I had free moments; after that I felt awkward, so I just did my job. In my head I was like, "This is who you roll with?"
I don't know. I guess I'm trying to re-evaluate my idea of what kind of guy I would like to date, and those guys seemed pretty cool, until I imagined having drinks at that table, and I just wouldn't want to. And then I found myself wondering if either one of those guys would've gone out and had a beer and played Ms. Pac Man with me, and if it would be the best time ever. But I just don't know.
It's nice to have something to say, though. I will say that. Even if it is about work. I've been working a lot, but it's nice to know I'm gaining something from it, other than money. And the money is nice. I ended up making like $30 off those guys and their friends alone. I was rockin' that shit. Uh-huh.
I was rockin' that shit so hard I'm rewarding myself by going out an buying a hat today. I've been checking out hats at the nearby Foley's on my lunch break, but I couldn't bring myself to buy one while shopping alone, for obvious reasons. This line from You've Got Mail keeps trailing in and out of my brain whenever I'm tempted to buy one. It's this part when Meg Ryan's character is e-mailing Joe Fox about seeing a butterfly in the subway. And how it got off at a certain stop and flew off to who knows, maybe Bloomingdales, "to buy a hat that would be a mistake. As almost all hats are."
I love that movie.
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