Dance? On the Bar? Why Not!

Last night, in my first drunken night since El Surgery, I decided that the Manhattan's bar staff should dance on the bar. Gooood plan. Actually, no one cared. Which may have been the best part about it. The bar had been busy before we came in but just as we got there the crowd of KU geologists left because they had to get up at 7. Pansies! Some nice KU boy gave me a cinnamon toothpick, and I put it in my pocket for later. I'm surprised I didn't stab myself with it. What a dangerous night, fraught with spicy shards of wood and standing on bars surrounded by glass bottles.

We're closing the library early today to hash out the new library plans with the architects. I'm sad to give up my comfy desk chair to sit in a cold basement. But it means I'm less likely to slap myself awake at 3 PM.

Just Warn Me First

I'm less hateful today. I do wish I could be outside, it's a lovely day. One for tanning! I didn't go to the HS graduation because I have to work. It's nice because sitting in the bleachers for two hours gets hot, hot, hot! But it would be a chance to wear my J Crew dress I'm in love with again. Even if it tends to show a little too much skin. Not my fault!

I'm somewhat tired today, even though my body woke up at 7 this morning. After going to bed at 3. I could blame Hunter for the waking. He's rather demanding in the mornings. But then he comes and lays right behind me then puts his nose right on my neck and sighs. Very sweet. Almost makes up for the fact that he will soon be stepping on my face.

I went out last night with a group of people I've never gone out with before. I tend to do that when I know a lot of people. I never stay with just one group. I like that, keeps things interesting and the drama at a minimum. I had my first drink since before surgery and it didn't hurt! But then I hurt this morning, so maybe not ready yet. I'll wait another week. Or maybe just till Monday. It's interesting to me how a place can be different depending on the people you are with. When I'm with the pirates, Manhattans is loud and full of movement: dancing, conversations with many people, going outside. One of my HS BFF's, Amanda goes out with me on Thursdays and we seem to spend a lot of time apart except when we are dancing. Last night I sat at a table for most of the night, talking and posing for pictures. I also find myself dating someone again (a boy this time, much to my mother's approval. And a blonde, much to my chagrin. kidding...) and that adds a new element to the picture of going out. I'm so good at being hesitant and almost disinterested in the beginning of new relationships. I get scared easily. I run away. Because I know if I don't, I end up completely entranced and caught up. I think it's simply the part of me that hates change. But I force myself through it, to accept it and actively pursue it. It's funny, that I would be affected by change, when I put myself through so much.

WWYD?

For Five Bucks?

Last night, when I was working my (sober) butt off bartending because Chris wanted to mess around for his last night as a Wednesday bartender, I realized that I was doing something I never saw myself capable of. Spending an evening with a man old enough to be my dad, who I didn't know from Adam, who was also drunk. And to be fair, he was a nice guy. He was respectful, not vulgar, and not creepy. But still at a bar, alone on a Wednesday night. I talked to him a lot. Granted, he was sitting next to Amanda and I was talking to her too. And I could have been snobby, and moved Amanda down the bar, and only gotten him new drinks. But I wouldn't have made ten dollars off him, nor did it make me feel uncomfortable to converse with him. I don't make a habit of being friendly to a lot of people there because they get the wrong impression and think we are friends (which leads to hugs that are NOT ok) or to awkward "can we go out to dinner sometime" conversations. But it is a service industry and part of what I'm selling is me. I get paid five dollars an hour and I keep all my tips. But how hard is it to open a bottle of Bud Light? Or mix a drink. I don't get tipped because I pour awesome shots. I'm tipped because it's expected and they like me. Or they don't ever tip, and then I hate them. I guess what I mean is, it doesn't hurt me to socialize and be friendly to someone who isn't of my age bracket, or life style, or economic status. I get paid for it! It's not something I thought I'd be doing a few years ago, when I was sitting at the Backstretch every night (why didn't I do the 50 day club? I'll never know.) and I'm glad that I've been able to do the bartending thing. It's been fun.

Officially

Hello darlings.

I had a day off yesterday. It was lovely. I woke up at L's house and we ran around town in the morning. I suppose I meant to get my car fixed, but I had neglected to call about that before Monday morning so I'll have to do it some other time. I got to Denver in time for lunch (Drunken Noodles and Thai Ice Tea), did a little shopping (Red Currant candle smells so amazing),got gelato, and watched a movie (Happy Endings). I love lazy, plan-less days like this. Like Stina said on Friday, her plan was just to "get wasted" because who needs plans.

We did not get wasted on on Friday. That's what a trip to Flo-town mid-evening does to you. It makes it impossible to get drunk. You just get tired. Then you go to Denny's and share a plate of French fries while wishing you were at home in bed.

Dana straighten my hair on Friday night, and no one recognized me at the bar. It's kind of annoying. I love my curls. They are me and they are my signature. So it's unnerving when people tell me how sexy I look with straight hair. Or how much more they like it. It's insulting to how I look everyday. It's a fun change, sure. But I hardly wear make up on non-bar nights. I'm not going to take 40 minutes a day to flat iron my hair straight. I'm not giving up my mornings to make myself look sexier. I'm not sexy, I'm cute. I know I'm pretty, but I want to be pretty because I look like myself. I don't want to be an illusion. I don't want to be one of those girls who wakes up in the morning and needs to put make up on before she can walk out the door, or complains how she looks like shit at breakfast. Make up doesn't really make you look prettier. It just covers the little flaws that the people who care about you don't care about anyways. And that's why I'm offended that people told me I look "hotter" with straight hair. Thank goodness I chose to go with someone who knows me with curly hair and no eye liner.

And Then I Spent A Lot Of Money

Ok, so I didn't take any pictures of the DPH this weekend. I packed the camera in my purse, and promptly forgot to bring it into the bar with me. But that's ok, since it wasn't a crazy fun Friday night like the times before. Just your general, run of the mill drunken night out at Manhattans.

Today I went shopping instead of spending the day on the couch which was a really good idea because I needed to spend a lot of money. I must be feeling poorly. I'm not sure, I try not to feel much right now, thus the drunken nights at Manhattans. Shopping sure helped though. I just wish I would have gotten the skis, bindings, and boots at the sports store. That would make me feel fantastic! Although, Hunter laying on my lap right now helps too.

I also got an exercise ball with a DVD since I have no idea what one does on a blow up ball. But I'm getting tired of the snow and cold keeping me from walking at least a mile and a half. It was only ten bucks too! If only I can keep Hunty from popping it.

My largest, and possibly most regretful purchase was that of two pairs of Silver jeans. I really don't have a problem with buying somewhat expensive jeans, since I don't wear them much and it's nice to not have to buy them often. But I have a problem in picking jeans out. I don't really pick out flattering cuts. I just don't know how. So I really shouldn't have picked some expensive jeans from Dillards, because Dillards is not as cool as Gap is with the whole taking the tags off policy. Not that I have taken tags off a pair of Gap jeans, worn them, washed them, and returned them after realizing they looked awful on me. No, I've never done that.

My Weekends Start On Wednesday

It's true.

I'll gather some photo evidence this weekend of all the Dirty, Pirate, Hooker things I engage in.

A Return That Sparked A Lot Of Glee And Possibly Skipping To The Bar Last Night

When I pulled onto Main last night to park in front of the bar, I scanned the cars to see who was working with me. To my complete surprise, Chris's Jeep was there and it may have incited a little bit of a party in my car as I crossed the double yellow lines to park next to him. (Ok, three cars down, but so close!) Chris has been gone for the past two weeks on account of his wife having the baby two weeks early. And he could not have disappeared on us (being Zach and me) at a worst possible time. We are a team, and we needed our team leader! Ok, maybe Zach didn't but Zach has Chris's number and I do not so he could logically get in touch with him while I was left in the dark!

Anyways, he's back. And I may have bounded into the bar and crashed into him saying (screaming?) "I'm so glad you're BACK." Thus prompting Rich to excuse himself from behind the bar so we could "catch up." God, not like that. He's like my brother for crying out loud. A brother who may have unzipped my shirt last night, but that's only because I was asking for it. Come on, who wears a zip up shirt to the bar? Only someone who is asking for it, and that's why I stayed behind the bar all night because more sketchy guys were there and I am no fool. Chris's advice to me is that I have to watch out for the persistent guys because they are the most trouble. Only certain men will continue to pester a women into giving out her number and I want none of those men. Persistence is a virtue, but in this case it's just obnoxious. I don't give out my number at work, unless you are a girl or old childhood friend. Even then I usually get their number for the sake of appearances. Plus, there is no way I want some drunk boy's number when he graduated in 2004. Please, boy, you wouldn't even be out of college yet.

Anyways, Chris and I had a lovely time catching up on all that went down at the bar while he was gone. No sooner than he found out I am single now, did he start scheming to Marry me Off to his friend Ryan. Actually, I'm pretty sure the scheming started the night before I became single, two weeks ago, when he started going into the virtues of Ryan and how he just wants him to have a nice girl. Chris likes to set me up, although the last time was ill-fated even if his friend was nice. Just not my type at all, even if he just signed a very important contract for a very large sum of money. But Chris is not just conspiring to get us dating. He is trying to marry us off, so we can live in Canon and have dinner parties at his house and babysit Ace for him, and play on some intramural couple softball team.

I don't have the heart to tell him I'm moving to Denver.

I Need An Intervention Right About Now

I had a conversation with someone last week about how I have standards now, and those standards are no kids, no wife, no drugs, must have a job, and college. Hey! Good standards.

Let's go back to last Wednesday at the bar. I was behind the bar, and some guy kept talking to me. I don't remember his name, just like i don't remember anyone's name since they are not important and I don't care. Also, I must meet you at least three times and be told your name as many in order to remember you. This guy has two kids, his wife left him two months ago, he smokes pot, I'm pretty sure he's been to jail, and I don't think he has a job.

And he wants my number so we can go on a date.

Him: Go out with me.
Me: No, I just broke up with my boyfriend on Sunday.

Repeat. Like 4 times.

Fast forward to today. Same man walks into the children's section of the library. Where I am working. Without Deb, who I had previously warned that said man might come into the library and she was to make me go do something when that happened.

But now he's gone and gone without a promise of a date from me. Because I attract losers. Losers who show up to my work. And I dated the last loser who showed up to my work for five months. Gah!

*EDIT*

I know three weeks ago, I would have never posted that about BB. My friend may think he's a loser, but I know how that would make him feel and I was never one to hurt him. Perhaps he was never as aware of my feelings and how his actions may affect them as he should have been. And while that's wrong, it's not as if I haven't had that happen to me before by someone who did love me, who still does love me, and who I still have a meaningful relationship with. People can do awful things to those they love for reasons that are so beyond me. I'm sure I have, and I don't know if you can point out someone who hasn't. So I don't really mean to call BB a loser. But he and I both know that I am far too amazing to be with him. And those are his words, not mine.

Infiltrating The Other Team

It seems that I have found a clique. Well, to be quite honest, it's a gang. Here in Colorado, a gang is defined by more than four members that have a symbol. The gang I'm joining is known as the DPH, which stands for Dirty Pirate Hookers. Here is part of the gang, one is missing:














This is the most bad-ass pirate group you'll ever meet. I'd advise you not to mess with them. Like they said "You date one of us, you date us all."

PS. My "initiation" will be complete when I start drinking a bottle of Captain and once I pass out and knock over the bottle, I'm totally in. That's way more pirate like than actually drinking the whole bottle.