Spoiled for Choice: August 2003

8.29.2003

Grow up

I work with a lot of guys, and I feel like their average age is approximately 15, even though they're all older than I am. All they've talked about today has been Britney Spears, Anna Kournikova, the relative merits of aging "as well" as Madonna has, and then Britney again. Jesus. I don't care about the VMAs. I didn't want to go to New York and pay $30 to hang out at afterparties where famous people of various degrees got in for free and made idiots of themselves, I didn't watch the ceremony on television, and I don't want to have to hear about it at my place of work. Thanks.

8.26.2003

Almost as good as free

This afternoon, upon arriving at work, I realized that I had forgotten my usual bottle of water. I can't go without having some sort of liquid, so I decided to buy myself a Snapple (if it costs the same as water, I might as well go for the flavor, right?).

I went to the vending machine area, inserted my $1.25 (actually, I put in $1.40, since I hadn't found my quarter until after I'd already deposited $0.15), and pressed the button for Fruit Punch. Imagine my surprise when I got back $0.40 change. I was so excited that I told my brother (with whom I work) to buy Snapples only from the D8 queue, but then he told me that every drink in the machine was priced at $1.00. Turns out that when they "fixed" the machine after the blackout (becaue it hadn't been working when the power came on), they accidentally set prices to $1.00. I was a little deflated to learn that I wasn't especially lucky, and that everyone was getting the same discount, but still...it's a quarter, man.

I think it's quarter worship leftover from college, when a quarter meant the difference between a clean shirt and that iffy sweater I wore twice last week.

French

My friend works in his company's IT department. Due to the blackout and then the various viruses that have been making the rounds, Friend has been putting in tons of overtime. According to Friend, he wasn't actually doing any more than usual (read: almost nothing), but the head of the IT department praised Friend for dedicated service. Anyway, as a reward for Friend's (supposed) hard work, IT Dept. Head has told Friend to go out to dinner on the company, up to $200.

Friend has decided to take me to a French restaurant (whee!) in Manhattan. Any suggestions?

8.25.2003

Productivity?

This weekend I:

1) Told a coworker that I would "fuck [him] up" if he touched me one more time. And punctuated said threat with the same kind of touches that so annoy the crap out of me. Now I feel sort of bad about it, but he'd been doing this for over a month, and I'd asked him to stop many times before. You don't realize how much of a New Jersey native you are until you start threatening to visit bodily harm on men who are at least six inches taller and 30 pounds heavier than you are.
2) Made up with a friend who I hadn't really spoken to for a while.
3) Realized that I'd love to be back in college, and that I feel like a huge failure at this point in my life.

8.23.2003

Endless crab legs: Is that too much to ask?

My mom and I love seafood. My dad? Not so much. He hates shellfish and will only eat actual fish. Which is fine with us. When we all go to restaurants, we compromise, if compromise means going to a restaurant where steak is a specialty and seafood is an afterthought. Moving on.

So my mom and I decided to go to Red Lobster, not because we love their food so much, but because they're having an all-you-can-eat crab legs special. We planned to go on Friday night, right after my mom picked me up from work. Imagine my surprise, then, when I saw my father in the car, too. I asked if my mom had dragged him along, but she said that he'd invited himself. Typical. My dad is a clingy person, and my mom isn't that way at all, so they have this pattern of approach/avoidance that would be really funny if they weren't my parents. Okay, it's still funny anyway, but not as much as it would be otherwise.

We drove to Red Lobster, and noticed that there were approximately 50 people outside the restaurant, all of whom were clearly waiting for seating. I went inside and found out that the wait would be at least an hour and a half, so we promptly left. At that point, I was ready just to call it a night and to go home, since I really only wanted crab legs, but I could see that I wouldn't be getting off that easily. My father said, "Where next?" and then my mom started to suggest other local seafood restaurants.

We went to Legal Seafoods, a restaurant I'd never been to before, but I didn't have a good feeling about the whole thing. I went in first and made our reservations, and then my mom and dad came in. My dad looked as though he was walking to a scheduled appointment for his own castration. I said, "We don't have to eat here," but he martyred, "That's fine. Don't worry about me." My dad is so dramatic. I got him a menu to look through, but he didn't seem to find anything that he liked. There was no way in hell that I was going to sit across the table from him watching him look as though someone had just kicked his puppy. I told him so, and then he said that he'd just go sit in the car and listen to the baseball game. Later, I realized that it would have served him right if I had taken him up on that offer. At the time, though, I told him that we didn't need to eat there, and my mom backed me up and suggested Ruby Tuesday's, which was, conviently, right next door.

Of course, a good martyr doesn't give in easily, so practically had to beg him to leave. Once he did, things were fine, except I was really pissed with him for coming with us when he knew that we were going to have seafood and then being a big baby aboutt he whole thing. We had an okay dinner at Ruby Tuesday's, but it took so long that I missed the beginning of Dead Like Me.

Way to go, Dad.

8.22.2003

No, really: Thanks

I wake up in the morning after my parents have left for work. It's not that I sleep late, since I'm rarely in bed after 9:45 am, but on weekdays I start work in the afternoon. Since I get usually awaken after they're supposed to be at work, I rarely speak to my parents in the morning. I can hear them, though, and usually parts of their conversations will filter into my dreams, although I rarely realize that what I'm hearing is real unless I hear it again later. Anyway, this morning while I was asleep, I thought I heard the word "plumber," but I didn't pay it any mind. Then, when I went to take my shower, I looked at the tub and was puzzled. It was just crusty looking. We're not obsessively clean, but I can never remember having see our tub look like that. I ran some water, pulled out the Comet, and called my mom asking her where I could find a sponge to clean. She told me to go to the kitchen to get one, since there wasn't one in the bathroom. Then she asked me if the plumber had arrived. I was like, "What plumber?" Turns out that the tub looked so gross because water and other stuff were backing up into it. Okay, that's just disgusting. I was going to clean that, too. And then shower in it. I asked my mom why she hadn't thought to let me know about this, especially since I always shower in the morning before going to work. Her answer: "You were asleep." Okay, that's the lamest reason ever.

Perhaps the fact that your daughter is going to shower in filth is enough of a reason to wake her. Or even leave her a note. Thanks, Mom.

8.21.2003

Dear That Guy

Dear That Guy at the baseball game, please stop waving. Please. We see you. You're the dumbass sitting behind home plate. Yes, you have a great seat. We know that you're estatic, because you've been waving at us for the last two and a half hours. I just thought I'd let you know that there's an idiot like you at every single baseball game, and that you're not special for having a good seat. I'd tell you to carry on, but although you've probably sustained extensive nerve damage by now, you haven't stopped waving yet, so I'll just leave you to it.

Thanks so much,
LiliaNic

8.20.2003

To make a long story short...

Okay, so the guy that I met last night? Was pocket-sized. Seriously. He was the same height as me, or maybe even a little shorter. And I am not a tall girl. Talk about disheartening. I felt like this was one of those television/movie blind dates where the woman has to find a way to hide her disappointment with the guy who shows up. I was waiting outside of the designated meeting place, when a man in a black shirt and khaki pants walked up to me. He'd told me what he was wearing, so I knew who he was. There was a quick mental revision of my hopes/plans for the evening (and possibly beyond), and then we were on our way. We had a nice time walking and talking about pretty much everything. We discussed several past presidents, civil rights, the Civil War, the Lincoln/Douglas debates, the most recent war, and Northern/Southern reality in this country. While I did enjoy being able to have a serious discussion with a man, I did have one problem: He kept cutting me off.

I don't mean that the last syllable of the end of my sentence would be overlapped by the first syllable of his first sentence. No. What I mean is that he would actually just start talking over me. How did this man get past the fifth grade believing that this was acceptable behavior? Also, every time he wanted to emphasize a point, he would touch me. My arm, my leg, my shoulder. It was kind of annoying. I don't like to be touched by people I don't know, or who I've just met. I'm especially picky about allowing men to touch me. I like guys, I enjoy their company, but I have boundaries.

He emailed me to tell me that he had a good time, and I wrote him back emphasizing how much I like him - as a talking buddy. Last night he tried to schedule another meet-up, and because of my insane work schedule, I was able to put him off without having to lie or even practice some creative evasion.

The bottom line is this: he's 30, he's 5'6", and he should understand at his earliest possible convenience that he has no chance with me as anything other than a friend.

8.19.2003

Back on..

Among the things that Thursday's blackout interrupted: 50 million people's power, and my chance to get my swerve on. Okay, maybe not, but for a variety of reasons the coffee date that I'd scheduled for last Thursday obviously couldn't happen: 1) The guy who I was supposed to meet didn't get home until 11:15 because the ferries were so backed up, and 2) adventurous or not, I wasn't going to meet some strange man for the first time during the worst blackout in US history. So we're back on for tonight, and I changed the venue from a diner to an ice cream shop, because those are more charming, and also more populated, so at least all the parents and their cute kiddies will be around to hear my screams, should my date reveal himself to be a raging psycho.

Also, I'm really worried that he's going to be ugly.

OMG! can U believe it????!!!!!

I have a problem with the way that teenagers and young adults are represented in the media. We're not all vapid, sub-literate shopaholics, but you'd never know that just by looking at the different portrayals of people in this age group. My friend Jordan showed me a Mastercard ad that he received last week. Look at that. Why would anyone ever speak like that? It takes more effort to decipher what the people in this conversation are saying than it would have if they'd just written normally. And also, check out those ugly smiley icons. How many people are participating in this conversation, anyway?

I would guess that most people have heard stories about younger people whose writing skills are practically nonexistent, due in large part to internet culture, but I still have to believe that these people are (in this way, at least) exceptional, and not at all representative of the general population.

Note to the advertisers of America: The advertisements that you market to teens and twenty-somethings would be more effective if you didn't make them offensive to your target group. Thanks.

Two things:
1) I fixed my comment system, which hadn't been cooperating.
2) I lost the comments that I already had.
3) I only lost two posts, and one of them was my own.
4) Here's a link to those posts.

8.18.2003

So Take That

I work from 8 am to 8 pm on Saturdays and Sundays. My job is to take reservations for people who need car service, but hardly anybody needs car service on the weekends. I average less than six calls an hour. It's kind of lonely. Anyway, when I leave work, I'm tired, because even virtual inactivity can start to wear on you after twelve hours. I spend my time using the internet illegally, which is to say that my coworkers and I have figured out which internet browser our software doesn't block (Hooray for Netscape). Even visiting my favorite web sites doesn't take twelve hours, and reading gets boring, and talking gets old...I'm sure you get the idea, but it's actually pretty horrible. Give me a busy job anyday.

So when my parents picked me up from work yesterday, we went to the ice cream shop so that the old folks could get their peach on. Then we headed to the International Buffet. I love their food, but I only go there on weekends (and only the week that I get paid) because that's when they have the best seafood. Usually I fill up on crab legs and shrimp and pasta, and yesterday was no exception. I was pretty hungry, since I haven't really been eating well lately, so I got more than usual. When I went to pay, the lady weighed my food and was going to charge me the price for all seafood. But aha! I'm on to them. If you get all seafood, your food costs $6.99 a pound. Seafood and other food is $5.49 a pound. I'd be an idiot not to get something else as well, right? I told the lady that I'd be paying the price for a mixed order, since I didn't have all seafood.

Thank goodness I grabbed those two spare ribs.

8.16.2003

Blackout

And G-d caused a blackout. And it was good. No, seriously. I didn't mind the blackout at all - when it was happening. I left my house at 4-something on Thursday afternoon, and spent another 20 minutes in Jersey before getting to Manhattan. Between the time when when we paid the toll to cross the bridge and when we arrived in Harlem, the power must have gone out. By the time we were driving down the streets, none of the traffic lights were working and it was absolute Bedlam. I got to where I was going, found my friend at the hair-braiding place where she was getting her hair done, and went inside. The ladies who worked there were West African, and were communicating amongst themselves in French. Yay! So while they were having a good time talking about the customers, I was having a good time listening to them. They didn't talk about me or my friend, but I think they thought that I was African, so maybe they were just being careful. Anyway, I got my hair braided, and I went to try to take the subway - I hadn't yet realized the extent of the blackout. The gates were closed, so I decided to take a bus home. Thankfully, it wasn't hard to catch a bus uptown from 125 St, so I managed to get on one.

The lady who boarded ahead of me hadn't paid yet, and moved aside to let me pass after I'd used my Metrocard. The guy on the first seat complained about "[her] ass being in his face," and she just let him have it. She used one hand to punctuate her words and another to hold on to her four-year-old daughter. That woman cursed him in at least two languages that I recognized and one that I did not, and everyone on the bus was just rapt. I've never heard anyone get told off for so long. That man never said anything after his first phrase, but that was enough. Finally, the woman's companion, who had boarded and found a seat, went back up to the front of the bus and tried to pull her friend away from the visibly deflated man. Telling-Off Woman hadn't had enough yet, and had to be dragged to the seats that her friend had saved. At the next street corner, the bus driver stopped, waved a policeman on, and had Told-Off man escorted off.

The man a couple of seats ahead of me was so unnerved by the presence of a police officer on the bus that he spilled a large portion of his beer all over himself. That's right, folks, his beer. I didn't ask. It's a good thing, though, that the police officer didn't come any further on the bus than necessary to get Told-Off man, because that other guy just reeked of beer. After that, my bus ride was uneventful. I took the bus up to 168 St, and then started to walk further uptown. I refused to pay the extortionate prices that people were asking for water, but I couldn't help sneaking longing looks at the cold bottles that were in the coolers that I passed.

I made it to 178 St, and I was going to go to the George Washington Bridge Bus Terminal, when I realized that I could catch a bus to Jersey on 179 St without braving the hoards of people on 178 St. As I was going to 179, I looked back and saw the masses of people lined up at 178 St having a huge shoving match. It was crazy. People were yelling at each other and I was just relieved that I didn't have be at that line. I got on my bus, and there were about 12 other people on the bus - max. A man and a woman who boarded the bus talked about how they had been stuck in an elevator 5 floors up and had to be evacuated by the fire department. I figured that my own "I got my hair braided in a place with no air conditioning" wouldn't have held up against that, so I kept my mouth shut. I didn't realize that other people were having trouble leaving Manhattan, because my own exit was pretty much a piece of cake.

When I got home, my parents and I chilled on the back porch. I couldn't contact the new guy, so the blackout put the kibbosh on my date/caffeinated beverage. I can now blame Canada for the fact that I am alone. Michelle, a family friend (and my brother's ex-girlfriend) was up visiting from South Carolina, and we all just sat around, ate dinner, and talked. Later, my dad, brother, and myself went to Newark to get my brother's current girlfriend, and what a difference! Newark was lit up, and even though there were police officers around, none of them were really necessary, since the city had power.

Then we went home and saw all of the houses in our town with power. YES! Except that our area was still in the dark. For the rest of the evening, we went listened to the Yankee game on the radio and then went to sleep. The end.

The next morning, we heeded the warning about not creating any non-essential traffic by going to the mall to shop. Kind of like the New Yorkers who heeded Bloomberg's warning about sewage at city beaches by going to the city beaches. But smarter.

Work yesterday was an absolute nightmare. I work for a call center that takes car reservations, and very few of our vendors were working yesterday, so we were only taking reservations from certain areas. No Manhattan at all, which sucks, since that's where about 90% of our customers call from. I had to put up with some super rude people, but I felt the worst for the ones who were polite and nice and just wanted to get home.

Now I'm at work again, and we're still having some delays, but they're much more manageable today. Still, when people complain about the wait of up to an hour, I want to tell them about how the wait yesterday was anywhere from 3 to 5 hours - and that's once we started taking reservations again!

Things that happen when people are too reliant upon electricity:
My parents and brother kept trying to answer the cordless phone when the one non-cordless phone we had would ring.
People in my house kept flipping up light switches.
People were sitting at traffic lights that weren't operational, waiting for something to happen.

All in all, the blackout was an interesting experience.

8.14.2003

Another milestone

I've reached that seminal milestone in every American woman's life: I am being stalked.

Actually, I'm not sure that he's stalking me, but it creeps me out that my ex-boy/best friend has taken to showing up where I am. I mean, what are the odds that he just happened to go to the same concert that I was going to? One that had been sold out for weeks and for which tickets were available only through eBay? Yes, that's what I thought.

I am trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he has a history of being creepy toward women who aren't interested in him. It's a good thing that everyone we know in common already knew that and nobody thought to tell me until it was too late. Thanks, friends!

But I have to admit that this new development has given me a new topic of conversation...with those same friends. Yeah, I know, they kind of suck as friends, but I can only deal with one thing at a time.

By the way, I didn't see him at the concert, which was terrific, although I advise all Liz Phair fans to avoid the tall drunk old guy who wouldn't leave me alone during her set, but thankfully left or passed out before Jason Mraz started. If the old dude had kept up during JM's set, I would have brought on the pain. I never believed that I had an addictive personality, but I could quite easily become obsessed with Jason Mraz.

I could always ask my new shadow for details about stalking...

8.13.2003

Crazy?

I just made a date with some guy who I've never seen before. Over the course of my job, I've spoken to him on the phone a couple of times. So is this creepy or interesting? I just can't tell.

Any ideas?

Another day, another title.

So I've already changed the title of my blog from "Countdown to Oz" to "My Sweet Nicole." I'm still going to Australia, but the probably won't figure too much into this blog, so why bother naming this place after a trip that is still several months off? This is going to be where I post things like stupid/funny conversations I've had with stupid/funny people. If you want to read my longer, more serious pieces, head over to my dland site.

8.11.2003

I am going to Australia. I don't know when, but I will. I am currently saving up enough money to get there. I've figured that it will take me about $3000 to get up out of the USA and over to Oz. There's the $495 registration fee that I will need to pay BUNAC, the program through which I will be traveling. Next, there's the $700 minimum that I will need to prove that I have in the bank in order for the nice people in Australia to grant me a visa. Finally, I will need to buy a plane ticket, and the cheapest one I've found so far was $900. Okay, so that only adds up to $2100. I didn't imagine my need for the other $900. I just want to have some wiggle room when it comes living several continents away from most of my family and friends. Although I do plan to meet some cool people/lifelong friends in Australia, it would be rather stupid to go there expecting immediately to find people who will let me bum money off of them. Also, it's just too risky.

So to date, I have exactly $10.00 in my savings account, and a combined $44.00 in my three checking accounts. The money is divided in such a way that I can only actually do ATM withdrawals from one of those accounts. No bigs. That particular bank has the most ATMs anyway. I have a full-time job that pays a little better than starvation wages, but I have expenses: credit cards and student loans. Neither is unmanageable, but they're pains. Plus, I have very little self-control when it comes to stopping myself from shopping. I'll get it together eventually, but for now, I feel like I'm going to be stuck in my parents' home for the rest of my life. I love my parents and they're the best, but that thought alone is enough to make me want to weep.

I don't think that funding my trip to Australia will be the focus of this blog, or even play a huge part in it, but this biznitch needed a name. Also, I am aware that I am in desperate need of a new template, but that will have to be addressed tomorrow. I'm sick of looking at this particular screen (yeah, yeah, yeah, I know...and so are you).

Spoiled for Choice