File Under: Why Me?

So I'm leaving work on my dinner break this evening, and I held the door for the patron behind me.  Mistake!

It is one of our regular patrons who has been coming in for years.  I don't think anything of it until he links arms with me.

Um, okay.  He's a bit older than me -- like 30 years.  I thought maybe he was having trouble walking, lost his balance, something like that.  But he doesn't let go of my arm once we get outside.

This is the conversation that follows:

Patron: What is that delicious smell?  Is that your perfume?

Me: *looks around, sees no one else in the vicinity*   Yes, I guess it is.

Patron:  I like it.  You smell really good.

Me: Thank you.

Patron:  It's different, kind of mysterious.

Me: Thanks.

Patron: Are you married?

*Now, in my head I start worrying a little bit.  We are drifting in to territory I do not want to cover with this man.  At the same time, I don't want to lie. *

Me: Nope.

We pause as I, thankfully, was parked on the opposite side of the parking lot.

Patron:  Okay, that's good to know.  Well, have a nice evening.

Me: You too.

What.  The. Hell.

None of the patrons who have asked me out at work are anyone I would consider dating.  Let us recount:

-- The dude who learned my schedule, wrote bad love poetry on the internet, was in and out of rehab, and tried to sell his belongings to a coworker.

--Another guy who was older than me, although probably the most normal of the group.  He really likes his Sci-Fi movies.

-- A teenager, and after I said no he wanted me to buy him beer.

-- The guy who needed help writing his resume, had a high school diploma, and was living in his car.

Those are the standouts in my memory.

T.G.I.F.

Santa and His What Now?

First, the briefest back-story  possible....

When I was little, my parents took my brother and I on a trip to The North Pole.  My Uncle John,  Aunt Robin, and my cousins went as well.  When we went to visit Santa he was on a break, and we got to see Mrs. Claus.

Apparently my dear brother was not going to tolerate that.  Later on in the day, he decided to go back and see Santa by himself, without telling anyone.  Not good when you are just a little guy.  We found him, eventually, hanging out with Santa, but not before my Aunt had started checking all of the ponds and water features, sure that he had fallen into one of them and drowned.

The point of this awesome story -- there is an amusement park in New York state for kids that is called The North Pole.  I even included the link above for your enjoyment.

Got it?  Good.  Keep that in mind as you read on.

My niece and nephew are here staying for a few weeks.  Here is a guide to the people involved in tonight's conversation:

L: My niece.  She is 10.
A: My nephew.  He is 5.
Mom:  My mother.  She would kill me if I listed her age.
Me:  That would be me.  And old enough.

This is the conversation that took place in the car earlier this evening.

A: I've never seen snow.
L: I have!
Mom: We know.
Me: Austin that's why you should tell your Daddy that you want to come visit in the winter!
L: For my birthday!!!!!
Me: I tried mailing you a can of snow for Christmas.  Did it work?
L: Sort of, but it didn't really feel like snow.

Kids are chatting in the back of the car...

Me: Maybe we should take him to The North Pole.  They had that cool ice pole thing that was there all year round!
Mom:  Did they have snow?  I don't remember.
Me: I remember Aunt Robin thought Brian had drowned somewhere.

A: I've been to the North Pole!
L: No you haven't!
A: Uh-huh!  I was there, and I saw Santa, and I was throwing snowballs at him and his midget clowns and...
Me:  Wait wait wait...what?  His midget clowns?!
A:  Yeah.  His midget clowns.
Me: You mean his elves?
A: Yeah -- his midget clowns.  The guys in the funny suits.  They hate children.

At this point I kind of checked out on the conversation.  I was laughing so hard about the "midget clowns" instead of elves that I never did hear why he thought that they hated children.

Rich People Problems (a Vassar Story)

*Based on a tiny sampling -- one family, really -- who happened to be sitting near me in the diner.

So I'm in the diner, eating a late lunch with my mother.  It was pretty busy, but nothing out of the norm.  This family comes in, and they get seated at the table right next to our booth.  First it is just 2 ladies, and someone who is one of their daughters. They are looking at the menu, getting settled in, and there was some big hubbub about looking at cakes.  Whatever.  Wasn't really paying attention to them at this point.

Now the Dad comes in.  He apparently has been on the phone with the daughter who is graduating from Vassar this weekend.  She is all upset.  Something about having forgotten Monday was a holiday, and she didn't plan things out right, and now she doesn't know what to do but she is afraid they will be mad at her because her mom is such a phenomenal planner, etc. etc.  Kerfuffle with the waiter about ordering the lunch specials, but can they get the sandwiches and just split the fries between them to be more healthy, blah, blah, blah.  (Waiter dude, I hope they leave you an enormous tip, because this table already seems like it is going to be high maintenance.)

So the family at the table discusses the poor planning problem for a bit, and they decide that the universe will work things out.  There is still room on their flight back to L.A. on Monday.  She can come with them, and she will have to pay for half of her ticket.

Now the daughter who is at the table gets up and says she will go do something.  I couldn't really hear her.  About a minute later she comes back with the chick who is graduating and freaking out over the phone to her father before.  WTF?!  She was outside this entire time?

But wait!  There's more!

So apparently she woke up this morning freaking out because she is graduating, and she will probably never see some of her friends again, and they had all packed up their bags and were loading their cars because they are driving home and live on the East coast, and she didn't know what to do.  Then, she had assumed they were all going to "like spend a week together at the Jersey Shore or at The Cape or somewhere", but all of her friends had decided to just go home after graduation, so her plans "totally fell through."  Then, she forgot that Monday was a holiday, so her assistant won't be there to help her get her belongings out.  (I have no idea what she means about having an assistant.  She's a freaking undergrad student.  Does Vassar give undergrads an assistant?  I assume she means RA in the dorms.)  Also, her friend from Idaho, "had totally packed most of her stuff up in her car and shipped it back home already.  Now she just has a little to take on the plane.  I didn't think to do that."  

Wait...what?

You have a car.  Why in the hell would your friend pack her car full of stuff and pay to have it shipped back to Idaho?  How the hell much stuff can she possibly have accumulated?  One of the beauty parts of having a car is that you can pack it full of shit and drive it to where you want to go.  This must be a rich person thing. I cannot even fathom why the hell you would ship a car home from college instead of driving it.

**At this point an Uncle arrives for lunch, complete with luggage.  He has just taken the train up from New York City.  "Business Class, of course.  Anything else is like being in one of those dirty trains in Calcutta where they pack you in like cattle."  Oh, and apparently the Book of Mormon is "pretty good", but he had some criticisms about the staging of that as well.  But the train ride up here is so beautiful, one of the best in the country.**

Moving on.  Our girl apparently has an apartment lined up in New York City, through a friend's family, but she can't move in until the beginning of June.  Ah ha!  Now I see where the poor planning is coming in!

The solution this family comes up with?  She will pack up her stuff, ship it home to L.A.  She will fly home with them on Monday and stay for a week.  They will worry about packing her stuff up and shipping back to New York after they get home.

For a week, people?  Seriously?  You must have more money than brains, the lot of you.  Do you have any idea how much it is going to cost to ship all of her crap to L.A., only to turn around and send it back a week later?  Why not pay to store it here somewhere?  Vassar will probably store it -- I know they let students rent rooms during the summer.  This makes absolutely no sense.

So the plan is apparently that she will be moving into an apartment on Park Avenue near 70th.  Her uncle asks if it is the size of the table. Hahaha.  Her mother is horrified and asks if it has at least 2 bedrooms.  Are you kidding me?  That's a pretty sweet deal to go directly from college to having your first apartment on Park Avenue.  Our girl informs her mother that it has a door man, "you know, like all buildings do."  Say what?

So now she is all about how great it is going to be, and she'll be the only one there for the summer before her friends move in later, and it will be great.  This is the chick who earlier in the meal, forget the rest of the day even, admitted to freaking out because her friends were leaving, and she was worried about flying home by herself or sitting next to a stranger on the plane.  I'm sure you'll be fucking fantastic living on your own in NYC.  Bonne chance!

Now here is the best part.  She is graduating with a major in art history.  Guess what job she has lined up to work at this summer?  You're never going to guess!  Bar back.  I almost guarantee she has no idea what the job entails.  I hope it is a really busy bar, or she better be getting one hell of a "friend of the family" discount on the rent for a place on Park Ave, especially when you are the only one living there to pay the bills all summer!

Next was a story from the uncle.  Apparently someone they all know, not sure if it is another relative or what, just bought a 2014 Porshe Cayman S.  Yes, it was because of the fender-bender in the M3, so had to get rid of that.  Kept the Range Rover though, so this is just the weekend car.

Conversation moved on to discussing graduation tomorrow.  Apparently they will be going to dinner later in Rhinebeck, "You know, the area where Chelsea Clinton got married."  Yeah.  They will be eating at The Beekman Arms because she wants "a really good steak."  Not to slam the Beekman Arms, but wouldn't be my first choice.  Did you check Yelp even?  I just Googled it, and they came up 7th of the restaurants in Rhinebeck.  This was followed up by a story about this epic party she was at last night, and there were so many people there that the floor broke. Also also?  "Bill Clinton is supposed to be coming to the area to speak somewhere next week.  It's too bad we have to fly home on Monday.  Maybe we could have gone and listened to him."

Then we had to hear stories about how you can ask any of her housemates, she is always the one that cleans the floor.  She doesn't like to do her dishes, but she always cleans the floor.  They have a mop and everything.  Hold up, right there.  I cannot even picture you mopping a floor.  Also, if you live in a house, presumably off campus then, who the hell is this assistant that was being discussed earlier on?  

And right before we finally left, the hubbub about the cakes was cleared up.  Apparently they needed to know what the cakes looked like because they were ordering two cakes for her graduation!  From the Dutchess Diner!  No disrespect to the diner by any means, but what the hell people?!  Not for nothing, but you all seem kind of snooty,  and it seems like your solution to most things is to throw money around.  Why in the world are you ordering cakes from the diner instead of The Pastry Garden, or the CIA, or Cafe Aurora, La Deliziosa, etc?  And please tell me you are not going to bring cakes from The Dutchess Diner to the Beekman Arms and ask them to serve them.  Wow.

That's not even all of it, just the highlights that I remember.  Thankfully we left, as I had about hit the end of my rope.  

Really? That's What You Are Opening With?

When you work with the public you get a lot of comments, as you can imagine.  Not all of them are nice.  I've been cursed out.  I thought a woman was going to deck me once she was so worked up when I told her she owed $1.  Yeah, $1.

My point is that you never know what is going to happen during a transaction.  You might ask someone how they are doing, and they will literally tell you exactly how well they are not doing. I'll never forget the time I had a woman start crying and telling me she had just had to put her dog to sleep.

You get the idea.  The response you get can be kind of a crapshoot.

Normally when a patron approaches the desk I like to start with, "Hello.  Can I help you?"  or something to that effect.  Nice, friendly, and you should get  a somewhat predictable answer:

1) Hello.  I need to _______.  (renew my book, pick up a hold, request a movie, etc.)

2) *pissed and angry*  I've got a problem with my account.

3) I forgot my card and need to use the internet.

That narrows it down, quite a bit, but everyone generally falls into one of those categories.  You can generally tell the ticked off patrons long before they tell you they are mad at you/the library/the world.

So, when I greeted a patron this afternoon, I was not expecting to get in reply, "Oh, so you do have arms."

Seriously?  Where the hell did that come from?

Me: Hello!  Can I help you?
Patron: Oh, so you do have arms.

What do you say to that?

-- Yup.  Thanks for noticing!
--I was born with them.
--So do you.  What is your point?
--What planet are you from?
--What are you smoking?
--You should probably not be driving right now, sir.

I chose to ignore the comment, check the patron out, and get him out of the building as fast as humanly possible...you know, using my two arms.

So bizarre.  You can't make this stuff up, I swear.

Thrift Shopping

A little reading music, to enhance the experience

I am a long-time fan of thrift shops, flea markets, garage sales, items left on people's lawns with "free" signs taped to them, etc.  My entire house has been furnished this way.  I wouldn't say that I am poor -- I have a full-time job, I'm not getting government assistance of any kind.  I like to call myself one of the "monetarily challenged" members of society.  I work, I pay my bills, but the dollar doesn't go as far as it used to so you have got to save where you can.  Hence, my love of thrift shops and upcycling items.

I scored three great things today!  One of them is so incredibly awesome that I fell in love with it immediately.  We'll save that for last, shall we?  Let the suspense build.

First, I found a cool denim vest/jacket thing at the SPCA thrift store.  Helping animals and getting new clothes -- bonus!  I think it might be for a guy, but it has pockets and is long enough to wear sort of like a tunic (well, on me it is, maybe not on taller folks).  Winning!

 Trying to get a full-length shot with the pockets, and failing

Excellent leather-feeling collar that pops up quite nicely

Next stop was a consignment shop in Hyde Park.  (I think I left consignment shops out of my list of ways I furnished my home.  My bad.  They are fantastic as well, no disrespect intended.)  The two most spectacular finds of the day were scored here.  

First, you should know that I collect nutcrackers.  I have an ever-growing family of them that I put out at Christmas time.  Today, I added a new member to the family:

Isn't she exquisite?

My mother wanted to know why I would want a nutcracker that was dressed like a drag queen.  Say what? Hello, it is obviously the Bride of Frankenstein!  Just look at her hair.

So obvious.

And now, prepare to be overwhelmed by an avalanche of awesomeness!  I fell in love with this little guy immediately!  I snatched him off of the shelf, and I may have been petting him as I continued looking through the store.  He is so fantastically adorable that I don't know how the seller could bear to part with him.

Is he not the cutest little yak you have ever seen? (It was labeled yak, that's how I know.)

OMG so cute and fuzzy!

Right now I have my new yak friend sitting on a shelf in a china cabinet.  I have to find him a safe place to live.  If I leave him out unprotected on a remotely cat-reachable area I know Jazz-kitty will maul him.  She redecorates things on a fairly regular basis.

That is a  good day's hunting.  Where else are you going to find such great things? 

And for those curious -- all together still under $20.  

  

Jazz-kitty: Music Critic

Yesterday was a long day.  Last night found me just winding down, listening to some music while I was baking a cake to take to work today.  Yes, I find baking relaxing.  I don't care if you think that makes me weird.

Anyway, I had Pandora on the Top Hits station, and Taylor Swift's I Knew You Were Trouble came on.  I wasn't paying much attention to it, just had it on in the background.  You know, when you kind of want some music but you don't really care what it is?  That's where I was at.

Jazz-kitty starts bugging out.  Running around like a crazy thing -- into the kitchen, out of the kitchen, into the kitchen, etc.  She does this on a fairly regular basis. Sometimes she is annoyed because I'm not giving her all of my attention, sometimes it is because the weather is nice and she is just hyper.  She freaks out if I have been gone longer than usual at work-- will meet me at the door and then take off running all over.  Sometimes she is just nosy and is watching the neighbors outside in their yards, or the birds, and running from window to window.  My point is this:  there are a lot of reasons Jazz-kitty could be acting like a little spaz.

The Taylor Swift song ends, and she calms right down.

No way!

Could Jazz-kitty seriously have been protesting Taylor Swift?  Has my little cat become a music critic?  I had to investigate.

I go straight to iTunes and buy the song on my phone.  I go into the living room, turn up the volume, and start playing the song on my phone.  Jazz-kitty comes running in from the other room and tries to beat my iPhone senseless.

She really does not like this song.....

I wonder if she hates other songs and I have just never made the correlation before between her bugging out and the music playing?

So I put the phone on Shuffle, and lay it on the couch cushion.  I really don't want her to destroy the phone, but maybe it is the music coming out of the phone itself that she thinks is some sort of a toy.

First song up is Let's Go Crazy by Prince.  No reaction from Jazzy.  Interesting.  I guess the iPhone-as-toy theory has been proven wrong.

Owl City Fireflies?  That has potential -- there are some high pitches in there, maybe that is bothering her ears?  No reaction.

Okay -- no more random shuffle.  Let's narrow this down.

I try a few different female singers and get no response.  She actually laid down when Beyonce was on, like she was getting a little kitty lullaby or something.

I tried Dropkick Murphys thinking the bagpipes might bother her, if nothing else.  Nope.

So I put the Taylor Swift song on again.  Jazz-kitty gets up and starts smacking her paws on the iPhone.  Seriously cat?  It really is just T-Swift you hate?

I went back to iTunes and bought one of her older songs, Love Story, to see if that would have the same effect.  It did not.  Jazzy gave the phone dirty looks, but she didn't attack it.

So I bought that We Are Never Getting Back Together song.  Jazzy was not a fan.  Flipped the phone right over and almost knocked it onto the floor.

Apparently Jazz-kitty is not a Taylor Swift fan, but if she has to listen to the music she prefers the older songs and not her newer work.

Jazz-kitty even took a self-portrait for all of you!  I started the "evil" T-Swift song that freaks her out, and then I switched the phone to camera and reversed it, then put it on the couch.  Jazzy, as we all knew would happen, starts attacking the phone.  My experiment worked, and she kind of took a picture of herself.

What a smart, tech-savvy little girl!

**On the off-chance that Taylor Swift actually ever sees this at some point:  (Highly unlikely, but you never know.)**

Dear Taylor Swift,

Hi there.  

I do not mean to imply in any way that all cats hate your music, or just your newer hits.  

I have two cats -- the other is named Whiz, and she is older and far calmer than Jazzy.  She did not care one way or the other about any of the music I played, and chose to sleep through all of this nonsense.

I just think Jazz-kitty is adorable, and this amused me to no end.  Hopefully other people find it funny as well or I will just come off looking like one of those bat-shit crazy cat ladies.  

Thanks for not suing me into non-existence over this, or writing a song about what an evil person I am.  :)

At a Diner? Really?

Warning: 

There are some obscenities used in this entry.  If that is going to offend your delicate sensibilities, or warp the fragile little mind of a child reading over your shoulder, then I suggest you leave right now.   Consider yourself warned.

So I went out to eat at a local diner tonight.  The people sitting behind and to the right of me were having a very loud conversation the entire time I was there.  From what I heard, they seemed to be on a date -- I'm thinking first, possibly second date.

The part I found the most interesting was that they didn't seem to be eating anything, only drinking.  I'm thinking they had already had a few before I ever arrived and that's why they were talking so loudly -- the diner certainly was not noisy enough for them to be speaking as loudly as they were.

The enlightening conversation seemed to revolve mostly around drinking, what they liked to drink, how much they could drink, etc,; and it was all taking place amidst  a sea of profanities.  If I am saying it was a lot of profanities, you best believe it was a lot of profanities because that normally does not phase me.

Allow me to share a sampling of the dazzling repartee:

Female: What the hell are you drinking?  Oh god, that's fuckin' disgusting!
Male: hahaha  Not it's not!  I like it! huhuhuh
Female: That's like Mexican piss in a bottle.  It's gross.
Male: Maybe I like drinking piss.  hahahaha
Female:  I can't believe you drink fucking Corona.  How can you stomach that shit?

You get the idea.  This lead into a dazzling debate betwixt the two about what was the most piss-tasting beer they had ever had.  I never got to hear her final response.  He settled on Keystone Light, and it tasted like piss but he really liked it.  Not the most resounding endorsement for a beverage.

We were far from over, however.  They changed topics for a while, and I am not sure if they were friends with the waiter or they were just really sloshed and making friends with him.  They were asking him all about his eyeglasses, had he always worn them, were they new.  They really were fixated with his glasses.

Then they switched back to more discussions about alcohol.  I'm referring to this as the I-Can-Drink-You-Under-The-Table-I'm-So-Awesome period.  Really not sure how this is supposed to make one a "catch", unless it is a plus to prove that you have a tendency to get shitfaced in diners and remember nothing else that happens that day/evening.  I suppose that would make you a perfect girlfriend for all the wannabe rapists out there.

I remember this part pretty much verbatim, as she repeated it several times.  He had been waxing poetic about some sort of wine, she just wanted whatever giant wineglass he was describing but she would fill it with rum not wine and drink it all, wine is a pussy drink, blah blah blah.   You get the idea.  Here is the line that stayed with me:

Have you ever had a zombie?  No?  I had 3 of those before  like 12:30 at the Palace.  You aren't even supposed to do that!  That shit isn't legal!

I'm assuming she meant the drink, not that there were actually zombies of the brain-eating variety around.  How is this illegal?  Frowned upon due to the high alcohol content, perhaps.  Even if it was on a Sunday, since it was 12:30 it would be legal -- even 12:30 pm would be okay since it is after noon.  Maybe she isn't legally old enough to be drinking anywhere.  I had no idea as they were sitting behind me.

Finally I'm leaving and get to take a look at them.  I was really thinking it was going to be an older woman, a little rough around the edges.  Maybe a younger woman who just looked like she had done some hard living.

I was so wrong.  Young chick, probably closer to the barely able to legally drink side of things.  And that brings me to my big question of the evening:

When did it become cool to get smashed at a diner?  Did I miss something?  Is this some hipster bullshit?  Diners are generally good for the food, not the alcoholic beverages.  Is this a thing now, or is it just this chick that goes around getting hammered at all of the local diners?