Punctuality is an interesting thing. There are some people that don't mind when others are late and others who count it as their number one pet peeve. I think that a lot of it has to do with how late someone is. If you're waiting for the person for five minutes and they're most likely stuck in traffic and you're just kind of chilling at the bar while you wait, you're probably less irritated than, say, if you've been waiting for an hour on the street in front of the bar and they have no excuse and you start to get into the "Maybe they're not going to show up" frame of mind and begin to think that every one must be looking out of their office or apartment window thinking "oh, that poor girl. She's being stood up" and asking their co-worker or roommate, "is she still out there" every ten minutes, and the co-worker or roommate is saying "Yes" with a frown and "Maybe we should bring her some soup or tea or something" and...well, you know.
So, I decided to make a list of when it's ok to be late and when it's absolutely not. Let's start with...
WHEN IT'S OK TO BE LATE
1.) To your Wedding. This is the most perfect time to be late. It's already termed as "your day". You are supposed to make a grand entrance. And NOBODY can or will ever get mad at you. In fact, if and when the day comes for me, I'm planning on walking down the aisle whenever I'm damn ready. You might as well take advantage of it while you can and you can always blame it on the bridesmaids.
2.) Rock Concerts. It's kind of an unspoken rule that you straggle in to concerts. Everyone learns this lesson the hard way. You want to catch the opening band, so you get there right as the door opens. Then, you stand there, alone, in front of the stage. And when the opening band comes out, you feel awkward because it's almost like they're singing to you, since you're the only one there, but you feel rude walking away. So, you just kind of stand there and gaze at them, and sip your beer, occasionally nodding your head to the music because it gives you a chance to avert your eyes.
3.) To the Party. There's nothing wrong with this. As long as you actually get to the party. I bought a cell phone, got cable, read Harry Potter, started drinking, got my drivers' license at least five years after everybody else did. But, the important thing is that I got there.
4.) When you're already late. Look, if you're already going to disrupt the event or walk into the office after 9 a.m., you might as well make it fashionable and not walk in all frenzied.
WHEN IT'S ABSOLUTELY NOT OK TO BE LATE
1.) To Someone Else's Wedding. My mother's nightmare, which she has instilled in me by incessant nagging, is to get to a wedding at the same time that the bride is walking down the aisle. First of all, the bride is disappointed that you've already seen her in her dress and have missed the above-referenced grand entrance. Plus, when you walk in late, you feel really self-conscious as it is...then you add silence, hardwood floors, and heels. And then your mom gives you that "I'm so disappointed in you" look. That last one might just be me.
2.) Surprise Parties. Similar to the wedding scenario, my mother will get equally upset with you if you walk into a surprise party at the same time as the person who's being surprised. They see you in the parking lot, then they see some familiar cars, and they piece it all together before they get inside. And all that hard work that the party planner put into it is ruined because you couldn't get your act together...or so I've heard.
3.) Plays. Don't you hate those people that get to the theater after the curtain goes up? The usher with the flashlight is distracting. Your view is blocked by the people standing up to let them through to their seat. If they're in your row, they almost always step on your foot or knock over your things. Don't be those people.
4.) When You're Dating This Girl. As more and more people read this blog, they begin to share their own horror dating stories (which I love, so if you have any...send my way!). My cousin told me about a time when he was set up with a girl by a mutual friend of theirs. Some of this may be paraphrased, but here's the gist of the story. They had planned to go out to lunch. That morning, my cousin's errands took him a little longer than he expected, so he texted the girl and asked her if they could move the date from noon to 1 p.m. She texted back "sure". My cousin showed up to her place around 1:07 p.m. She came out of her house with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. After a few minutes of awkward silence following the "nice to meet you"s, my cousin asked her if something was wrong. She asked him, "What did you have to do this morning?" And my cousin said, "I just had a couple of things to do." And she responded, "You know what? I don't feel very comfortable going out now. I thought you had something important to do and that's why you were late." And with that, she turned around and went back into the house, leaving my cousin in the driveway. No word on whether there was a second date.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Rain Man
I feel a little bit badly about this one because this guy probably is actually a nice guy. I think that his bad date behavior stemmed from inexperience. In fact, the friend who fixed us up tells me that she thinks that this was his first date ever. I won't give you his name. Let's just call him Rain Man. You'll see why.
Like I said, my friend fixed us up and gave him my phone number. He called, and when he suggested that we see a movie on our first date, I hedged a little bit. Who wants to see a movie on the first date? [Side note: the movie that he picked was Flawless. If you've never seen Flawless, it stars Robert De Niro and Philip Seymour Hoffman and is an uplifting tale about a security guard who suffers a debilitating stroke. Once, on another first date with someone, we saw Virgin Suicides- also a very uplifting tale about a group of teenage sisters who all commit suicide together. It was soon after these two incidents that I banned "going to the movies" from my first-date repertoire. Side note within a Side note: The Virgin Suicides guy dumped me for Jessica Biel. THE Jessica Biel. And that is partly why I hate her. Only partly.]
Anyway, back to Rain Man. Rain Man picked me up for our date and we were on our way. While we were driving, I turned to him and said, “Do you mind if we stop at an ATM somewhere? I don’t have that much cash on me.” Rain Man’s response: “Sure, I think there’s one at the mall on the way.” Ugh, Rain Man. I wish he had said “Don’t worry. I got this one. You pay next time.” But, that’s ok. I’m a liberated woman, right?
We pulled into the mall and Rain Man pulled up near the entrance and put the car in park. Again, I thought this was weird. He wasn't going to come into the mall with me? I felt like a tween whose dad just dropped her off. Still, I let it go.
Once I got back in the car, we drove to the movie theater down the street from the mall. We arrived at the theater and we walked up to the ticket booth and I expected Rain Man to take the lead here. But, he didn't. "Ok, Rain Man, I'll go", I thought. I went up to the ticket booth and said, “One for Flawless, please.” I was getting that Rain Man was not a "take charge" type.
There’s not much to say about what happened in the movie. We watched it. That's why a movie is never a good idea for a first date. But, the real excitement came when the movie was over and we went outside. It was raining. Not just raining….POURING. I didn’t expect Rain Man to offer to bring the car around considering the way the night had gone. And a little rain never hurt anyone, so I was ok about that. But, what I also didn’t expect was that he would make me wait in the rain for him to unlock the car door. You see, once Rain Man saw the rain, I saw another side of him come alive for the first time that night. He was RAIN MAN! He was taking charge. Of the RAIN! The second we stepped outside the theater, his eyes lit up and his whole aura electrified like the lightning flashing across the sky.
“It’s raining,” he exclaimed. “It’s raining!”
“You're a big fan of rain, I take it?” I asked.
“I love the rain,” he said. “It gives me a chance to put my rain gear on.” Did I hear that right? Rain gear??
“It’s raining,” he exclaimed. “It’s raining!”
“You're a big fan of rain, I take it?” I asked.
“I love the rain,” he said. “It gives me a chance to put my rain gear on.” Did I hear that right? Rain gear??
Rain Man made a beeline for his car and I followed him. He unlocked the driver side door and hopped into the car. I tried my side, but it was locked. For a split second, I thought, "He’s going to leave me here in the movie theater parking lot. Stranded. In the rain." I cupped my hands against the window and peered into the car, the rain soaking me to the bone. There, I saw Rain Man, sitting in the driver’s seat…I watched through the window as he put on a yellow rain slicker, yellow rain pants, galoshes, and yes, even a yellow rain hat to top it all off. He looked like the Gorton's fisherman sitting in a minivan. While I was standing in the freezing, pouring rain, Rain Man was weatherproofing himself… inside the car.
Rain Man turned toward me and looked startled as if he forgot that I was there. In the excitement of putting on his rain gear, he must have forgotten that he had brought me along. He reached over and unlocked my side. I contemplated asking him if I could wear his slicker, as I was cold and wet. But, I couldn’t bear to crush his unbridled joy by threatening to take away his rain gear. So, I just sat there shivering and we drove back to my apartment.
I never saw Rain Man again. I like to think that he's settled down with his Rain Woman and they puddlejump and shop for galoshes for their little Rain Kids. But, I learned a life lesson that night. Always be wary of a guy who owns a rain slicker.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Written in the %@$%-ing stars: Part II
When we last left our heroine, she was marveling at fate and how it had managed to bring her potential soul mate back into her life...
After my parents and Mike's friend hung up with me, they went back to the campsite to tell Mike about what had happened. Toward the end of the week, my mother called me to tell me how great Mike was. He stopped by my parents' campsite for lunch every other day; he accompanied them to the general store; he built their fire for them. He was really winning them over! I was pleased to hear all of this, yet a little bit miffed that I was missing my own wooing. But, my parents gave Mike our phone number when the week was up.
He had told them that he had always wanted to go to King Richard's Faire, a renaissance fair that comes to my hometown of Carver every fall. Here's the sitch on KRF: 1.) My entire high school worked there. 2.) An actual Faire person was about one step up from a carny--crazy eyes that stared at you for too long after you ended a conversation with him, but no pedophile tendencies. 3.) On opening weekend, Carver residents could get in for free, which was pretty much the only reason that my mother took us there.
Anyway, soon after my parents came home, he called to speak with me. He seemed great on the phone and we made plans for him to come down to the Faire for opening weekend. That week, I kept expecting him to call, so we could finalize our plans. We had spoken a few times on the phone, but we hadn't pinned down the details. Saturday came...I still hadn't heard from him. So, I called him. He picked up and I said, "Hi!" And he said, "Hi." And then there was total silence. I asked him, "So, what time are you coming?" And he said, "I'm working today." There was no "sorry, I have to cancel" or "Let's get together next week instead." It was a little bit baffling. Could it be that he was actually only interested in my parents?? I said to him, "When are you thinking of coming down?" And he said sardonically, "When I'm not working..." I had no idea what else to say, so I hung up, completely confused and wondering what it was that I had done wrong.
I didn't talk to him for a year following that. I graduated from high school, and then the following September, I started college. I began to think about him. That last conversation that we had was weird. Why would he bother impressing my parents, or making plans with me, if he didn't want to get to know me? And look at how we had found each other! Clearly, we were meant to be! I wasn't going to give up that easily. I decided to write him a letter. In the letter, I let him know that I was living in the Boston area and if he ever wanted to get together, he could give me a call and I gave him my new number.
Two days later, he called. He explained that he had had a girlfriend the last time we had talked, and he thought that he could just hang out as friends, but it occurred to him that it wouldn't be a good idea. So, he blew me off. He knew it was stupid. He wished he had been honest. But, he wasn't dating her anymore and he wanted to get together. That sounded reasonable. We made plans for that Friday night and I felt that we were back on track!
That Friday, he actually showed up! We ended up having a great night! We went out to dinner. We walked around my campus. We shared a kiss on the rooftop of the university library with the Boston skyline in the background. I was thrilled. Now, the stars were talking! As he was leaving, we made plans to see each other the next day.
The next day, I gave him a call to see what time he was coming to get me. He picked up and I said, "Hi!" And he said, "Hi." And then there was total silence. I asked him, "So, what time are you coming?" And he said, "I'm working today." I said to him, "When are you thinking of coming down?" And he said sardonically, "Um, when I'm not working..." I thought, "This guy is giving me the EXACT same blowoff!" And even though I was upset that he was blowing me off after such a great date the night before, I was even more upset that he wasn't even bothering to think up another excuse!
I hung up, frustrated. We never spoke again. I looked up at the stars and said, "What the hell?" And they just shrugged their shoulders and said, "meh. there's only so much we can do."
After my parents and Mike's friend hung up with me, they went back to the campsite to tell Mike about what had happened. Toward the end of the week, my mother called me to tell me how great Mike was. He stopped by my parents' campsite for lunch every other day; he accompanied them to the general store; he built their fire for them. He was really winning them over! I was pleased to hear all of this, yet a little bit miffed that I was missing my own wooing. But, my parents gave Mike our phone number when the week was up.
He had told them that he had always wanted to go to King Richard's Faire, a renaissance fair that comes to my hometown of Carver every fall. Here's the sitch on KRF: 1.) My entire high school worked there. 2.) An actual Faire person was about one step up from a carny--crazy eyes that stared at you for too long after you ended a conversation with him, but no pedophile tendencies. 3.) On opening weekend, Carver residents could get in for free, which was pretty much the only reason that my mother took us there.
Anyway, soon after my parents came home, he called to speak with me. He seemed great on the phone and we made plans for him to come down to the Faire for opening weekend. That week, I kept expecting him to call, so we could finalize our plans. We had spoken a few times on the phone, but we hadn't pinned down the details. Saturday came...I still hadn't heard from him. So, I called him. He picked up and I said, "Hi!" And he said, "Hi." And then there was total silence. I asked him, "So, what time are you coming?" And he said, "I'm working today." There was no "sorry, I have to cancel" or "Let's get together next week instead." It was a little bit baffling. Could it be that he was actually only interested in my parents?? I said to him, "When are you thinking of coming down?" And he said sardonically, "When I'm not working..." I had no idea what else to say, so I hung up, completely confused and wondering what it was that I had done wrong.
I didn't talk to him for a year following that. I graduated from high school, and then the following September, I started college. I began to think about him. That last conversation that we had was weird. Why would he bother impressing my parents, or making plans with me, if he didn't want to get to know me? And look at how we had found each other! Clearly, we were meant to be! I wasn't going to give up that easily. I decided to write him a letter. In the letter, I let him know that I was living in the Boston area and if he ever wanted to get together, he could give me a call and I gave him my new number.
Two days later, he called. He explained that he had had a girlfriend the last time we had talked, and he thought that he could just hang out as friends, but it occurred to him that it wouldn't be a good idea. So, he blew me off. He knew it was stupid. He wished he had been honest. But, he wasn't dating her anymore and he wanted to get together. That sounded reasonable. We made plans for that Friday night and I felt that we were back on track!
That Friday, he actually showed up! We ended up having a great night! We went out to dinner. We walked around my campus. We shared a kiss on the rooftop of the university library with the Boston skyline in the background. I was thrilled. Now, the stars were talking! As he was leaving, we made plans to see each other the next day.
The next day, I gave him a call to see what time he was coming to get me. He picked up and I said, "Hi!" And he said, "Hi." And then there was total silence. I asked him, "So, what time are you coming?" And he said, "I'm working today." I said to him, "When are you thinking of coming down?" And he said sardonically, "Um, when I'm not working..." I thought, "This guy is giving me the EXACT same blowoff!" And even though I was upset that he was blowing me off after such a great date the night before, I was even more upset that he wasn't even bothering to think up another excuse!
I hung up, frustrated. We never spoke again. I looked up at the stars and said, "What the hell?" And they just shrugged their shoulders and said, "meh. there's only so much we can do."
Friday, August 10, 2012
Written in the %@$%-ing Stars
I'm about to tell you a tale that you will be convinced has the happiest of endings. After all, it would seem that this romance was written in the stars.
The summer before my sophomore year of high school, I went camping with my family in the White Mountains. I'll just let that sink in for a second. Me...camping. I've already mentioned that I hate bugs. Some other things that I hate...wilderness, sleeping outside, community bathrooms. All of these things can be found camping. Although I love smores and the smell of a burning campfire, I love them in the comfort of a living room. Think less sitting on a fallen log and more sitting in a comfy armchair. So, add this to the fact that I was 15 years old and in my "Parents-are-so-embarrassing-little-sisters-are-so-annoying-I'm-angsty-where's-my-journal" phase, you have one sullen teenager on your hands.
The first day we got there, I went to mope by the lake, thinking of the awesome time that my friends at home were probably having without me and all the parties and trips to the mall that I was missing. My mother sat down beside me and said, "I have good news! Six sixteen-year-old boys just moved into the campsite next door." Before she even finished her sentence, I jumped up and Usain Bolted back to our campsite to examine the goods. Not only were they sixteen-year-old boys, they were hot, jocky, football-tossing sixteen-year-old boys. This nightmare was quickly becoming the best dream ever.
I spent the rest of the week trying to look cute and be wherever they were, hoping they would call me over to throw the old pigskin around. One particularly caught my eye. He was always wearing a UNLV sweatshirt. Of course, I didn't have the nerve to go talk to him. So, I settled for creepily gazing at him from afar, and laughing really loudly at all of my parents' stupid jokes, so that he could see how much fun I was to hang out with.
They were with one parental chaperone, a woman about my mother's age. One morning, I waited until I saw her leave for the shower. I grabbed my caddy, hoping to time it so that I would be standing behind her in line. Once there, I casually tapped her on the shoulder and said, "Oh hi! I think you're in the site next to mine." Soon we were engaged in conversation. I learned that they were from Haverhill, MA. They were all going to be juniors in high school. They were all on the football team. I was hoping that she would invite me to stop by, but she didn't take my many hints. A few days later, they left. As they drove away, I saw UNLV in the back of the minivan and he smiled. And I cried. That boy could have been the love of my life and there was nothing I could do to see him again! This was before Missed Connections of course.
Two years later, my parents and sisters returned to the campground. As I would soon be a high school senior, I was allowed to make the decision to stay home this time. Up at the campground, as my family was setting up their campsite, my mother began to talk to the guys in the next site over. She asked them where they were from: Haverhill. She asked them how old they were: 18. She asked them if they'd ever been to the White Mountains before: a couple of summers ago. She said, "That's really funny. We were here a couple of summers ago and we were next to a bunch of kids from Haverhill." And he responded, "That was us. I thought you guys looked familiar." And of course, my mother being the wing woman that she is said, "You need to come to the payphone [Note: haha, payphone] and we have to call my daughter."
They called me. I answered. I spoke to the guy that she had brought over to the payphone [Note: still can't write that with a straight face]. I asked him, "You probably won't know who I'm talking about, but one of you guys wore a black UNLV sweatshirt." And he responded, "Oh man, that's Mike. He still wears that f-in sweatshirt like every day."
I couldn't believe my luck! I thought that Mike and I must have been meant to be! So, why am I not married to him, you ask? Tune in next post!
The summer before my sophomore year of high school, I went camping with my family in the White Mountains. I'll just let that sink in for a second. Me...camping. I've already mentioned that I hate bugs. Some other things that I hate...wilderness, sleeping outside, community bathrooms. All of these things can be found camping. Although I love smores and the smell of a burning campfire, I love them in the comfort of a living room. Think less sitting on a fallen log and more sitting in a comfy armchair. So, add this to the fact that I was 15 years old and in my "Parents-are-so-embarrassing-little-sisters-are-so-annoying-I'm-angsty-where's-my-journal" phase, you have one sullen teenager on your hands.
The first day we got there, I went to mope by the lake, thinking of the awesome time that my friends at home were probably having without me and all the parties and trips to the mall that I was missing. My mother sat down beside me and said, "I have good news! Six sixteen-year-old boys just moved into the campsite next door." Before she even finished her sentence, I jumped up and Usain Bolted back to our campsite to examine the goods. Not only were they sixteen-year-old boys, they were hot, jocky, football-tossing sixteen-year-old boys. This nightmare was quickly becoming the best dream ever.
I spent the rest of the week trying to look cute and be wherever they were, hoping they would call me over to throw the old pigskin around. One particularly caught my eye. He was always wearing a UNLV sweatshirt. Of course, I didn't have the nerve to go talk to him. So, I settled for creepily gazing at him from afar, and laughing really loudly at all of my parents' stupid jokes, so that he could see how much fun I was to hang out with.
They were with one parental chaperone, a woman about my mother's age. One morning, I waited until I saw her leave for the shower. I grabbed my caddy, hoping to time it so that I would be standing behind her in line. Once there, I casually tapped her on the shoulder and said, "Oh hi! I think you're in the site next to mine." Soon we were engaged in conversation. I learned that they were from Haverhill, MA. They were all going to be juniors in high school. They were all on the football team. I was hoping that she would invite me to stop by, but she didn't take my many hints. A few days later, they left. As they drove away, I saw UNLV in the back of the minivan and he smiled. And I cried. That boy could have been the love of my life and there was nothing I could do to see him again! This was before Missed Connections of course.
Two years later, my parents and sisters returned to the campground. As I would soon be a high school senior, I was allowed to make the decision to stay home this time. Up at the campground, as my family was setting up their campsite, my mother began to talk to the guys in the next site over. She asked them where they were from: Haverhill. She asked them how old they were: 18. She asked them if they'd ever been to the White Mountains before: a couple of summers ago. She said, "That's really funny. We were here a couple of summers ago and we were next to a bunch of kids from Haverhill." And he responded, "That was us. I thought you guys looked familiar." And of course, my mother being the wing woman that she is said, "You need to come to the payphone [Note: haha, payphone] and we have to call my daughter."
They called me. I answered. I spoke to the guy that she had brought over to the payphone [Note: still can't write that with a straight face]. I asked him, "You probably won't know who I'm talking about, but one of you guys wore a black UNLV sweatshirt." And he responded, "Oh man, that's Mike. He still wears that f-in sweatshirt like every day."
I couldn't believe my luck! I thought that Mike and I must have been meant to be! So, why am I not married to him, you ask? Tune in next post!
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
A Christmas Story
Yes, I know that it's August. But, if there can be Halloween goodies in the stores, I can talk about Christmas Past. In my family, we celebrate Christmakah. The Chanukah part is religious; the Christmas part is not. We have a traditional Chanukah where we light the candles, say the blessing, exchange gifts each night. Then, on Christmas, we play Christmas music, watch A Christmas Story at least three times and open presents. It's the presents that are the basis of this story...
One Christmas, my sisters, with excited looks on their faces gave me a big gift. They told me that this was only part of the gift and the other part hadn't arrived yet. They looked so thrilled with themselves, that I couldn't wait to open it! When I did, I pulled out a canvas bag with an unexplainable circular piece of paper inside. My mom exclaimed, "It's a cooler!" Now, for those who don't know me very well. I don't cook. I haven't been grocery shopping since March 2009. That's absolutely true. I will run in and get a cookie plate for a party or something, but other than that I avoid the supermarket like the guys on match.com who take shirtless pictures of themselves in bathroom mirrors. Also, I don't really sit on grass. I hate ants, I hate beetles, I hate spiders. It seems that whenever I sit on grass, one of those is crawling on me. So, you can see why I was confused that my sisters who know me so well, would get me a cooler as a present and be excited about it.
My face fell. I tried not to let it show, but I have one of those "open book" faces. It makes it really hard to hide disappointment. My sisters looked baffled. Until Lori said, "It's not really a cooler! Are you serious?? Do you not know what that is?" I looked at it again, and realized that the circular piece of paper had three holes in it. It was a bowling ball bag! My sisters had bought me my own bowling ball! After that, I was much happier. And my family laughed and laughed at what a spoiled brat I am. I wanted to name my bowling ball Peter the Purple Pin Eater, but a friend told me that was too long. So, I named her Beth.
One other Christmas story comes to mind. My father is one of the best people in this world. He's sweet; he's kind; he's a fantastic dad! He's also horrible at listening. He had asked my mother what she wanted for Christmas and my mother said that she really needed a new winter coat and that she'd like it to be brown. I'm sure my mom was expecting something like this:
One Christmas, my sisters, with excited looks on their faces gave me a big gift. They told me that this was only part of the gift and the other part hadn't arrived yet. They looked so thrilled with themselves, that I couldn't wait to open it! When I did, I pulled out a canvas bag with an unexplainable circular piece of paper inside. My mom exclaimed, "It's a cooler!" Now, for those who don't know me very well. I don't cook. I haven't been grocery shopping since March 2009. That's absolutely true. I will run in and get a cookie plate for a party or something, but other than that I avoid the supermarket like the guys on match.com who take shirtless pictures of themselves in bathroom mirrors. Also, I don't really sit on grass. I hate ants, I hate beetles, I hate spiders. It seems that whenever I sit on grass, one of those is crawling on me. So, you can see why I was confused that my sisters who know me so well, would get me a cooler as a present and be excited about it.
My face fell. I tried not to let it show, but I have one of those "open book" faces. It makes it really hard to hide disappointment. My sisters looked baffled. Until Lori said, "It's not really a cooler! Are you serious?? Do you not know what that is?" I looked at it again, and realized that the circular piece of paper had three holes in it. It was a bowling ball bag! My sisters had bought me my own bowling ball! After that, I was much happier. And my family laughed and laughed at what a spoiled brat I am. I wanted to name my bowling ball Peter the Purple Pin Eater, but a friend told me that was too long. So, I named her Beth.
One other Christmas story comes to mind. My father is one of the best people in this world. He's sweet; he's kind; he's a fantastic dad! He's also horrible at listening. He had asked my mother what she wanted for Christmas and my mother said that she really needed a new winter coat and that she'd like it to be brown. I'm sure my mom was expecting something like this:
My dad bought her this:
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
I guess it's good that he's honest?
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