I Survived NaBloPoMo

30 November 2009

It feels rather anti-climactic to conclude NaBloPoMo with a post about… well nothing really; but that’s all I have left.  In the last 30 days, I’ve emptied my drafts folder of every post worth posting, and even recreated an old idea or two.

I will leave you with a mini meme, just so you don’t feel like I didn’t give you anything today.

        1. What picture is the wallpaper on your phone?
        2. Putting on my chef coat makes me feel a bit like a superhero; what gives you that feeling?
        3. I am most looking forward to ____________________ in the new year.

First Things First… and That Ain’t First

28 November 2009

In context of lives well lived, I am a young man; and this isn’t about to be some whiny, woe is me, I’m getting old post.  I have, however, started to become one of those guys who compares the world to things that happened in “my day.”  It wasn’t my lack of appreciation for contemporary music that pushed me to this acknowledgement, nor was it suffering the indignity of a sex sprain.  I am declaring my premature fogy status because I have become increasingly uncomfortable with immodesty.

I’ve never made a secret of my online dating adventures.  Recently a woman sent me a message; I skimmed her profile, looked at her pictures, and was immediately put off by her bikini shots.  That the bikini has become the standard swim suit for all women not swimming competitively is something that I have accepted.  That it has grown smaller by the year is also sartorial Stare Decisis.  Putting that imagination extinguishing picture in an online dating profile for all potential suitors to see is a bridge too far for me.

A woman’s body may be the world’s most perfect creation, and I love seeing as many of them as karma and life will allow.  I just don’t want to see that body before I know your name.  This might mark me as a prude, but really, is there no modesty left in this world?


Giving Help, Giving Thanks

27 November 2009

As I was doing kitchen prep on Wednesday evening, I realized that I didn’t have enough of a couple of things.  Not a big deal, I figured I would swing by the market on my way to my friends place on Thanksgiving.  That morning, like any day when I plan to cook for nine hours, I put on my chef coat.

Walking into a grocery store on thanksgiving morning in a chef coat was not my best idea ever.  It took me almost an hour to buy three bulbs of garlic and two shallots.  There was the question about if a turkey could be over brined (yes but it would take days,) and the one about how long a bird should rest (depends on weight,) a couple about stuffing, and one or two about things I can’t remember.

Yes, I was running late, but only a particular kind of asshole wouldn’t help someone on Thanksgiving morning.  I am not that kind of asshole.

Ten minutes after I finally left the store I went to a coffeeshop near my friend’s house.  The gentleman handed me my large coffee and said “You’re working today too, the coffee’s on the house.”

Sometime’s karma is instant.


Don’t Call It a Comeback…

23 November 2009

A little more than a year ago I added a feature to the blog – a Would We Get Along Quiz.  It was written in the same style as one of those magazine quizzes and I wrote it, long before I started the blog, as something funny for an internet dating site.

I eventually removed it after a friend stated that it created the impression that I was using the blog to meet women.  I don’t disagree with the fact that it could be seen as giving that impression, but I still think the notion is funny and the literary exercise challenging.  So if you all will take my intentions at face value, I have written a new and improved version.


Just Like You Don’t Make Bomb Jokes in Airports…

22 November 2009

Sunday, 22 November 2009, 1:30pm

Customer Service Counter of Anonymous Big Box Retailer

 

RR: Good Afternoon; I need to return these earphones, please.

Retailbot: Reason for return?

RR: Well, they’re sound deadening and they work a bit too well for my liking.

Retailbot: [blink, blink]

RR: When I wear them on the street, I can’t hear cars approaching me and that seems a bit unwise.  So they work too well.

Retailbot: I can’t accept a return because it works too well.  The computer doesn’t have a box for that.

RR: OK, I understand that.  Does the computer have a box for customer satisfaction or dissatisfaction?

Retailbot: Yes, but you’re not dissatisfied.  They worked how you expected them to.  They say they’re sound deadening and they deaded the sound, right?

RR: Yes, yes, I understand what you’re saying but I assure you when I said that they “worked too well” I was just making a joke not being literal.

Retailbot: Yeah, but you said that they worked, that they did the job you expected them to do.  I can’t take a return because a product worked.

RR: I completely get what you’re saying.  It’s just that I had no idea the side effects of the product would be so… well, dangerous.  So ultimately I, the customer, am not satisfied.  So you can check that box with a clear conscious.

Retailbot: [blink, blink]

RR: Maybe we should just get your manager.


The Best Reason to Drink with Old Guys

20 November 2009

I love my local for too many reasons.  Not the least among them is the fact that the regulars are a hodgepodge of humanity.  All ages, races, and orientations are welcome under the big booze filled tent that is my local bar.

Last night I spent the better part of an hour bending elbows with a late 70something gentleman who I’ve know for a long time.  For no good reason, I never knew that Eddie was a veteran.  I’ve had more conversations with this gent than I can remember but we’ve never talked about his service or his time in the Korean Theatre.

I don’t know how the topic came up, but I just listened as Eddie told me the lighthearted and funnier parts of war.  It was loud and profane and had me in tears with laughter.  Suddenly Eddie’s face took a somber pale and he said:

You know, Refugee, that’s the reason I hate that mutherfucker Dick Cheney and his cronies.  It’s only the assholes who’ve never seen war that are eager to go back to it.

I was dumbstruck with the simplicity of his statement.  I just thanked him for his service… and paid his tab.


Woulda Twittered Wednesday… if I Were to Tweet

18 November 2009

I know that mall stores play holiday music beginning in November, but must my coffee shop try to make my head explode by following suit?

“Stop being a slave to the tyranny of your own ego” – advice to OSSL after he avoided getting laid because of a useless argument

If you’re gonna argue with me about the constitution to impress a woman, you really should’ve been right b/c you’re a lawyer and I’m not

Correcting an attorney on the constitution using my pocket copy is apparently a good way to block/win the girl

I need a new word that describes “something of value abandoned with an old date because you decided recovery cost isn’t worth it” Thoughts?

On a scale of 1-10, please rate my asshattery for not wanting to date a woman because she txt msg lk 16yo grl.

I didn’t wake up in my clothes on Saturday morning… but only because I thought it a good idea to strip in the kitchen on Friday night.

To the dude who just purchased a ruler long and half dollar thick cigar, it’s not a conversation piece; it’s a compensation piece.

I get the appeal of cuisine as competition; but competition with parties outside of one’s self is antithetical to cuisine.

This is a blatant admission that NaBloPoMo is kicking my ass.


Ask the Refugee – Sure Why Not?

15 November 2009

My dearest Refugee,

Please help.

I am a regular at my local bar. It is a place where everyone knows your name, and, in most cases, your drink. As a result of my friendships with the bartenders, my tab is never what my tab should be. In fact, my tab is normally $7. I might have 3 glasses of wine, 4 rum and cokes. Doesn’t matter. My tab is normally $7. As a rule of thumb, I leave a $20 tip.

My problem arises when friends join me for a drink. Well, one friend in particular. One night this week, we met for a drink. He had 2 rounds, I had 3. When the tab came, he offered to pick it up. It was $11. He tipped $5. FIVE DOLLARS! Our tab easily should have been $35, which means that at 20% the bartender would have walked away with $7. And my friend tipped $5. Even if he had tipped $20, the charge still would have been under what the tab should have been.

I’m so embarrassed that he’s shafting my bartenders, my friends! What’s a girl to do?

Dear Girl with a Cheap Friend,

Your issue isn’t so much a question of tipping etiquette as it is a friend etiquette quandary.

Some explanations for those who aren’t serious bar regulars.

GCF’s tab is so preposterously low because the bartender(s) has decided that she’s good for the bar.  She’s the kind of guest who brings other people into the bar, and makes people who are already there want to stay a little longer.  That and/or he’s trying to sleep with her (subsequent conversations with GCF via gChat eliminated that option.)

Further gChat conversation indicated that GCF’s CF has done this on more than one occasion, and knows that he is being “taken care of.”

GCF, I feel for you – I’ve been in your situation and the bartender’s situation as well.  I can assure you that your bartender knows exactly what happened and is not assigning blame to you for the low tip.  There are a few options for you.

  • Don’t drink with cheap people once you’ve learned that s/he is cheap.
  • Have a difficult conversation with your friend to alert him to your discomfort with this tooltastic behavior.
  • Don’t let him get any tabs and eventually have a difficult conversation when he asks you why.
  • Find a way to slip back into the bar – “I forgot to tell my bartender something” – and slip him some extra cash.

I am inclined to think that the first two are the best of the available options as the last two are incredibly passive responses.  Assuming you don’t wish to get rid of this friend over this issue, how do you have that conversation?

With any awkward discussion, I am a fan of having a script in my head if not on paper.  The script need be no more formal than a rough outline of the points you need to make.  No one wants to have to revisit this issue because you forgot something and writing them down will help crystallize the points and maybe illuminate new ones.

Just like you would never talk your partner about a sexual issue right before you were about to have sex, find a non-related moment to talk with him, and no accusations, just conversation, and never have these talks in front of others – ever*.

I would refer you to the Refugee Guide to Fighting Fairly for more information.

 

 

p.s. I am looking forward to writing a general tipping guide, and frankly cannot believe that I haven’t written one already.  Expect it soon.

* interventions are an obvious exception.


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