Do I Look Like A Dominatrix?

Lawd.

This is for anyone who didn't stop by the bar tonight, because if you stopped by, you've already heard this story. Twice, in all likelihood.

So this guy who has come into the bar for the last couple nights because he's staying at the hotel decided that I looked like I was into S&M. He called down to try and talk to me but I was busy when he called, so I just gave him our hours.

He came back down, ordered another drink, and then asked me if I was into "asserting my will" and other like phrases, so that I could get the drift of what he was talking about. I said no thanks. That's where I should have ended it.

Instead, when he asked why, I said, well, for one thing, I have more in common with Ellen DeGeneres than my first name. This was a HUGE mistake, because he thought "Oh goody, she's into freaky shit! Now I'm in!"

No, I like women. This doesn't mean I'm a dominatrix, no matter what the Spice Channel will have you believe.

So he became a bit more persistent, asking me if there was anything he could offer to change my mind. I said, flat out, no each time. At this point it was more annoying than anything else. Personally, I don't care what your kink is as long as you don't try and drag me into it.

Eventually, a group of regulars came in and (thankfully) drove him out of the bar. He then proceeded to call down to the bar at least four or five times (most of which I told him to call back because I had customers) and ask again how he could persuade me.

He asked me for a hint. I told him, "Here's a hint: Try someone else." He said he was going to try every trick in the book. I told him, "Put down the book, I'm not interested." He didn't call for about two hours after that.

He called one last time "to see if you've changed your mind." I finally just said, look, I'm not changing my mind, so please stop calling. That worked for the rest of the night.

I know he's staying at the hotel, so he may be back, but if he even thinks about trying again, I'll throw him the fuck out.

Which I probably should have done anyway, but at first he was fairly discreet about it, and when someone is initially discreet, I tend to not care so much. But when someone refuses to take fuck off for an answer, then we have a problem.

Also, this guy had three strikes against him in that he was
1. skeezy
2. old
3. male.

These are all usually strikes against you when I weigh whether I want sleep with someone. #1 is always a disqualifier, and #'s 2 and 3 usually are, 2 more than 3, though 3 is still pretty strong.

It was more amusing and annoying than frightening, but if he tries anything tomorrow, I'll call the manager, who in turn will call the cops on him.

I think the comment that really summed it up was when someone told me, "You should have told him to shove it," and I responded, "That might have actually been counterproductive..."

Please god let this Braves job come through...

Hooray For Bread

I am officially finished with the Atkins Diet!

Well, at least the way I'm doing it.

I did the "induction phase" (20g or less carbs a day) for a full month, mostly because I have such a vast waistland. I've managed to lose about 17 or 18 pounds, though the acid test will be whether I can actually keep it off.

I think I will, mostly because I've seen how much less it actually takes to get me full than I normally used to eat, and I've become able to tolerate certain healthy options that I was previously unable to stand (certain green veggies in particular).

All I know is, when I wake up tomorrow, I'm going for a slice Katy's chocolate banana bread first thing, and having it with a big glass of milk, since I haven't had real fruit, sugar, chocolate, or milk for the last month. And anyone who's had this bread knows how good it is.

And then I'll probably be passing out in diabetic shock.

Gotta Love It

So I am the only bartender at the hotel I work at. The Food and Beverage director, Joey, is also in the same position at the much fancier, much more complicated hotel downtown, so my hotel is generally an afterthought.

I had called him trying to find out when I could get a sub in so I could actually get a day or two off this week, but it took me forever to get a hold of him. I finally did tuesday, and he said, "Okay, take tomorrow off, I'll send Leo (another bartender) up from [hotel downtown]."

So, as you might imagine, Leo never showed. Nobody (by which I mean Joey) ever told the manager of the hotel that a) I had the day off b) there was supposed to be a sub or c) if the sub couldn't show, the bar was going to be closed. So the bar ended up closed yesterday.

Of course, when I come in today, the manager yells at me as if this is my fault. I was so pissed I forgot to point out to her that nobody ever called me to ask where I was, and nobody called Joey to find out what was going on.

This is not the first, second, or third time I've had to deal with getting yelled at for something that is not my fault (usually it's Joey's). I'm getting so fed up with this job. I really need to have a higher tolerance for managerial moronicity (if that's a word), but for now, I just want to scream.

I'm working on an excuse to quit, though: I think they shorted me on my last check, so I'm writing down my hours, especially because I'd be due several hours of overtime this week, and if they try to short me on that, I'm so out of there.

Bah. Hopefully I'll get my dream job and this annoyance can go away...

One Last One

I found one last fortune (well, I think it's the last. I still haven't hit a large chunk of my room...), and I certainly hope it comes true:

- This is the year when ingenuity stands high on the list.

In Bed

Whilst cleaning out my room, I decided to go through a set of drawers I have and throw out what I don't need.

Among the things I found (besides a spork given to me by my ex for reasons I can't remember, a fork, an Israeli shekel and a Canadian ten cent piece, and manuals to appliances I no longer own) were old fortunes I saved from fortune cookies.

These appear to have been saved because of the hilarity they acquire when you play the Fortune Cookie Game, wherein you add "in bed" to the end of every fortune and hilarity ensues. So before I throw them out, here they are:

- Your luck has been completely changed today. (I wish...)

- Many ideals are becoming real. (Ditto.)

- You are soon going to change your present line of work. (Does this mean I'm going to start dating guys now?)

- You should be able to undertake and complete anything. (I would if I had the opportunity...)

- Stop waiting!!! Buy that ticket, take that special trip. (So does this meen I should get a hooker, or acid?)

- Get your mind set; confidence will lead you on. (This one may have actual wisdom...)

Well, I'm sure I'll find some more entertaining objects as I continue my "spring" cleaning. I'll keep ya posted.

What Do I Want? Sleep! When Do I Want It? Now!

I was awakened this afternoon by a rather large, loud, and angry peace march winding by my front door. It appeared to consist of most of ETHS (Evanston Township High School) marching down the street, shouting the following chant with a bullhorn:

What do we want?
Peace!
When do we want it?
Now!

Being cranky because of being woken up, the first thing that came to my mind was the counter-chant that is the title of this entry.

The second thing that came to my mind was, "Aw, isn't that cute? They think they're making a difference."

I realize this is a ridiculously cynical thing to say, especially for someone who thinks it's horribly stupid and dangerous to go to war without UN support. I think the "Peace! Now!" and "No Blood For Oil!" folks are tremendously oversimplifiying things, but there are legit reasons to wait.

However, after living in DC for 18 years and watching causes I care about get shot down one after another after another for the benefit of people giving wads of money to campaign causes, I really feel like large-scale protests don't work anymore.

The fact that Bush has gotten even more war-focused after millions of people worldwide protested against his policies in the largest, most organized worldwide public protest ever, further convinces me that holding signs and marching and shouting is not going to do a damn thing.

Unlike a lot of the protesters, I don't either equate Bush to Hitler or think he's more dangerous than Hussein. However, I think his actions and his policies are incredibly dangerous, and he and Rumsfeld especially are inflicting wounds that will take decades to heal.

I'll grant you, high school students and people who haven't grown up in DC have far more reason to protest than I, the students because they would be the ones drafted were the draft reinstated, and non-DCers because they aren't horribly cynical.

But I haven't gone to a single peace protest, and I kind of resented being woken up by one (even though it was 11am, and most normal people are awake at that point). However, I do think protetst serves a purpose for the people protesting to feel like their voices are being heard.

And for some of the students I saw, it appeared to be serving the purpose of getting them out of class for an hour or so.

And really, isn't that what life is really all about when you're in high school?

Life Imitates Television

Remember that episode of Seinfeld where Elaine freaks out because she finds out that the Today Sponge is no longer being manufactured, so she buys the last remaining case of them in New York and doles them out sparingly, only to the Spongeworthy?

Well, Seinfeld fans and contraceptive fans alike can rejoice this week, because the Today Sponge has returned, eight years after its conspicuous demise.

Holy Shit

I know homeowners.

Update

I made it back from Atlanta in one piece. Hooray.

I think the interview went well. The one thing that surprised me was that it was only about half an hour long. I had been expecting at least an hour's worth of grilling, but it was fairly standard and short.

I'm not really sure whether to see this as a good or a bad sign. It could be good, in that they knew that I know what I'm talking about and that I'm enthusiastic. It could also be bad, in that they decided I wasn't the right person, personality-wise or whatever.

They're interviewing the other candidates tomorrow and Wednesday, and said they'd try and let me know as soon as possible whether I got the job.

I've been flipflopping back and forth on whether I think I'm going to get it or not. I thought immediately after the interview that it went really well. Then when I was at work I was really pessimistic.

I think that's mostly because I've realized how much hope I've staked on getting this job, despite how much I've been trying not to. I realized how much I hate my current job as a hotel bartender, particularly the manager of the hotel and the food and beverage manager.

I will be working six nights a week until I get some sort of relief. And if I have to do that more than two weeks, I'm quitting. This is not a job I can sacrifice my life and my sanity for. I don't make enough money, and more importantly, I don't have enough fun.

Getting this job with the Braves would really solve all kinds of problems for me. I don't really know what I'm going to do if I don't get it, other than be incredibly pissed, and I think realizing that has made me more discouraged about my chances for the job.

Damn it. I wish I knew what these people were thinking. These will be a nerve-racking few days, and the only distraction I'm going to have is work (which bites) and a surgical consult on my pain in the ass (which will also be tremendously unpleasant).

I really hope I get this damn job. It'd be perfect for me. I just hope I convinced the guys I interviewed with of that.

Brief Recap

Looks like I kind of misplaced my blog for a couple of days. Let me briefly bring you up to speed:

I felt much better Thursday, so I worked Thursday and Friday. Friday kind of sucked because there was a "Trashy Prom" being held upstairs for a couple sororities, and since alcohol was being sold there, pretty much all I sold was shots of Jaegermeister.

It was weird, there was nobody in the bar at 8pm, and by 9:45, it was packed. I called Mark to rescue me from the boredom, and by the time he showed up, I was barely keeping up with the insanity. Gotta love those nights.

And pretty much all I did was clean up ashtrays, since people came into the bar to smoke since they couldn't smoke upstairs and it was too cold to smoke outside. Yay. They pretty much made a giant mess, bought a couple shots of Jaeger, and left. Whee.

Plus I got stuck doing end of the month inventory until 3:30am, which would make that an 11 hour day.

Tonight I went and saw Margaret Cho, who was very funny, although it was the first night of her new tour, so it seemed like she was still getting the show completely down. She is piss-your-pants funny when she's right on, and she wasn't quite there tonight. She was still hilarious though.

Tomorrow I'm going to Atlanta for my interview with the Braves, and I'm really, really trying not to get my hopes up too high, even though I really, really fucking want this job.

I just want to tell the interviewier, "Look, I will do anything for this job. Anything. I will not sleep, I will not eat, I will do nothing but live Braves baseball for the next six months if you hire me, and I'd be fucking ecstatic to do it."

However, I don't really want to come off as too desperate, so that line is probably not going to be uttered. Also unlikely is the resurrection of the "Pleasepleasepleaseplease" (x1,000,000) technique that worked so well on my parents.

I'll just emphasize my professionalism, my enthusiasm, and my qualifications.

And if that doesn't work, I'll beg.