The Semi-Blind Date and My Triumph Over Evil Corporations

Enron Dating Tactics

I’ll apologize now cause this post is LONG. It seems like the most pleasant events of your life happen on weekends, or during the summer. This past weekend was simultaneously pleasant and unpleasant. The weather was summer like and it was a weekend, which would lead one to believe that good things were in store…not quite, but they were at the same time. Tough to explain. See about two weeks ago tomorrow I got a call on my cell from a number I didn’t know. A friendly piece of advice, if you don’t know the number NEVER answer. But I did. And on the other end of the line was a young lady that I’ll call The Kingpin. Now I knew who this girl was because I once gave her a ride home from a church thing. I’m pretty religious by the way. Though some of you that read this have witnessed me being anything BUT religious but who cares what you think you’re going to hell anyways…actually LDS people don’t exactly believe in hell but that’s a discussion for another day. Now THAT’s a run on sentence. Back to the phone call. The Kingpin and I hardly know each other. In fact I didn’t really care for her when I did give her a ride. She talks incessantly, and is just weird. The kind of weird that makes you feel both sad for them and a deep fear that they’ll latch onto you as a friend. So she asks if I remember her and I think “it’s hard to forget a person that makes that bad of an impression” but I answered in the affirmative. She then proceeds to ask me out, beeehhhh (shivers), and not for that week even but for more then a week later. She says that her company is having some sort of “party” (her words exactly, remember those words) and she’s “ been given the option” (exact words again) to bring someone.

Sidebar (not so much on the side or in bar form)
Let me make a little sidebar here right in the middle of the page. Guys have no clue how to say no. We’re not all that used to getting asked out. So if you ask us out you can get a pretty confused yes, to a volatile no. Or a yes with a call back break it off. Or you might even get a stand you up. And the occasional yes with an actual follow through date. It’s just a guy’s gut reaction that you’ll get. It might even be part of the deep down fight or flight reflex, I can’t say for sure. So bottom line, ask a guy out at your own risk cause they can be like cornered wounded badgers, and they’ll just charge you and eat your face. That parts metaphoric; I’ve never been one for red meat. As you’ll come to see, The Kingpin got mauled.

So as I hang up the phone I get pissed. At myself mostly, for not being able to see what was coming and stopping it dead. So I have that hanging over my head for the next more then a week. I’ll think “oh man Aubrey’s coming to visit next week”, and it will be followed by “but guess what you get to do THIS weekend?!!” And my happy mood would be shattered. So as the more then a week progressed I waited for her to call. Yet she did not. So my hopes began to grow that perhaps, just perhaps she was too nervous to call back.

Thursday arrives. As I get out of the gym, I notice that I’ve missed a call. I call back the unknown number, hoping against hope it wasn’t her. The phone goes to voice mail, and I just thank my lucky stars. It’s her dad’s cell. (Now an even bigger alarm bell should have sounded, who gives out their dad’s cell phone number as a call back for a guy asked out?) I leave a quick message and chalk it up to good fortune. She doesn’t call back that evening.

Friday day. I keep my cell phone in the bottom drawer of my desk so the receptions so bad it’s on Roam. “This way”, I think, “I can possibly get her call and I can blame it on the phone. Perfect GENIUS!!” Remember who else thought they were a super genius…Wiley Coyote. He ended up a puff of dust at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. That’s a pretty huge metaphorical punishment. What would the real world equivalent be? What fate awaits me?!

I wait on. Three o’clock, four o’clock, five o’clock…nothing. I start to think, she really didn’t want to go or something has come up. I decide to go the gym as usual. I can’t WAIT!! About half way to the gym, stuck in traffic with no where to run the phone rings, I look down and someone has left me a message. It’s her. So out of sheer guilt I call her back. This next part….you will not believe.

We do small talk for about ten seconds. Then she cuts to the chase. She explains it starts at 7 and that they’ll (THEY’LL) be leaving from her home at about 6:45. The dress is business casual but I shouldn’t feel obligated to dress like that even though they’ll (THEY’LL) be dressed that way. The next part was a gift from heaven I swear. I look and I see that I’m about 300 yards from my gym. So I start to do some quick thinking. I ask her “So what’s this thing all about anyways, its like a party you guys are having?” Dead silence. “Umm well it’s a conference, and So-and-So will be talking to us about our future, and what we can do right now to have some economic stability in the future. Because as you know businesses today struggle to blah blah blah…” After she finished her little spiel she mentions that afterward we’re going to the dance at the church. And asked if I knew where it was. I have to admit I was shocked by her explanation of what she had asked me out to. In fact that shock quickly turned to anger. I was almost willing to go with her till she basically told me it was a sales pitch. So I told her I wasn’t sure where the dance was and she responded “well I’ll find out for sure and call and email everyone else I asked to go.” I was like “everyone else?!” Then she said that she had asked a few people to go.

So I start in with the excuse to break off the date cause at this point I’m pretty damn sure I’ve paid my dues. So I say “you know it takes me about two hours at the gym, (total lie) so I’d probably be way late to the conference how about if I just meet you at the dance (another total lie).” It really was more a statement then a question. Now the next part I’m truly proud of myself for. She asks in a semi distressed manner “You mean you’re not going to the conference?!” and I respond with a very firm if not a little elated “NO!” “That’s just really not my thing. I’ll just see you at the dance.” She says, “Ok, well umm, I guess I’ll see you then, at 10:30.” And I think, “On a COLD DAY IN HELL, I’ll see you there!!” but respond “Sure!”(said with not a little sarcasm). Then I say, “See you there!” and hang up quickly. At this point I’ve pulled into the parking lot of my gym and am freakin’ the happiest man in the parking lot by far. I’ve just saved myself from a horribly Tony Robinsesk evening. By the way Tony Robins scares the crap out of me. I feel like he’d just eat someone he picks out of the audience. He’s a giant with a taste for humans, I’m telling you. So that’s the story of my latest blog worthy event. Sorry its so freakin long. But I really wanted to get all the details. One scary detail I left out was that of the math. What do I mean by the math? The conference started at 7 she was going to show up at the dance at 10:30. HOW LONG WAS THE FREAKIN CONFERENCE?! The dance started at 9 so she's saying it'd be three and a half hours long. GOOD, LORD!!

Toilette Humor: Not My Most Proud Post

Alright, this is it. I will start posting regular entries on..in..at my blog. I’m still not quite familiar with the terminology yet. I’m sure the novelty of the newness to blogging will ware…wear off soon. Let me explain early on (newness reference #4) that I cannot spell. Its not something I particularly care about, but it must be noted so you all don’t think I’m some big old uneducated guy. In fact I’m not any of those things, big, old or uneducated, though I am a guy, through and through but that’s the subject of a whole other discussion. I’ve been reading some blogs lately to kind of get a feel for them (newness referece #5, they’re coming farther and farther in between. Maybe its like reverse contractions, now that I “gave birth” (newness reference #6) they’ll peter (I know.) off.) That was quite the parenthesis thingy huh? So anyways back to what I was saying…jeez I really wasn’t saying anything at all was I? Man blogging is amazing. But I did want this post (ha! I’m pickin (newness reference #7) it up fast) to have a subject not just some ramble. Now this is something I’ve been working on in my head for a while. I noticed it one day while I was relaxing in the men’s bathroom at the office.

Semi-public restrooms are strange places. Not earth shattering I realize but let me share with you some of the going’s on at my little corner of the toilette universe.

Cleaning Lady Conundrum
Our building has a cleaning lady. In fact I suspect they have several. But the one for our floor is something of an enigma. I’ve spoken to her on several occasions and she has a particular way of speaking that’s ummm, unusual. First several employees and I suspected she was speaking Spanish. Now I should be able to spot Spanish when I hear it, I’m kind of fluent in it, but not this time. Then later after some tests we conducted (me staying at the office late and saying hi in the hallway) we determined that it was in fact English. The reason we couldn’t understand? She appears to be deaf and has learned to communicate audibly. Now I’m not one to poke fun at the handicapped…. alright I do it often…but its hard to understand deaf people sometimes when they speak audibly. So yeah, she speaks English but is deaf. What’s the connection to the restroom? One day I was washing my hands, the door opens slightly and there’s a knock and some sort of unintelligible (I can’t spell but BOY do I know some big words, see I’m educated) voice. I respond of course, with a noise merely identifying that there’s someone inside. The doors shuts and I dry off my hands. As I come out the door who do you think I found there? The deaf non-spanish speaking but kind of English speaking cleaning lady. And she says, “Sorry”, when I come out. Apologizing for walking in on me. Now my question for you, if she’s deaf HOW THE HELL DID SHE KNOW I WAS IN THERE? I have no clue, neither does the rest of the office staff, or my parents, or friends. As you can see, it plagues me. And yes the office staff always shares what happens in the restrooms. We’re used to having a whole building to ourselves and now we’re in a bigger place and share with a few other businesses so we’re always running into “interesting” people in the bathrooms and hallways. So there’s the riddle of the non-spanish speaking but kind of English speaking cleaning lady.




Men’s Public Bathroom Saloon Theory

Now I don’t know many women that spend time in men’s public restrooms. Except maybe the cleaning lady that I’ve decided to call Daredevil in homage to that other handicapped super hero. Though she’s not all that super, she’s just able to sense when people are in bathrooms. Not exactly heat vision, I know, but hey when you can’t hear you take what you can get I guess. So back to men’s restrooms. I’ve been working on this theory that connects men’s restrooms with the Saloons of the old west. Now guys can tell you their bathrooms are as near a sanctuary as you can get. There’s reading material, and there’s a chair where you can “relax”. Not much but we’re a simple people. So you come to these public restrooms and you find all manner of….relaxed “behavior”. Now the saloons of the old west were places where a man could go to “relax” as well. And was an outlet for all sorts of “behavior”. And I’m sure the smell of the two places is roughly the same. For example, the spittoon. What could be more relaxing then having a good spit. And I’ve noticed that many guys use urinals as such. I guess they make fantastic spittoons. Even better then the old ones cause you don’t have Gus the town’s old prospector getting plastered and putting his foot in it and spillin it all over your new bottle of Kentucky Red Eye or getting it thrown at you in a bar fight. You just push the handle and BAM it’s gone. Of course the reason I’ve noticed the whole spittoon thing is cause they don’t actually push the handle or in some cases even hit the urinal. Another evidence of the “relaxed” atmosphere in the men’s restroom is the conversation. For some reason guys get their defenses down or just get kind a friendly when using a urinal and will talk to anyone, even complete strangers. Much like cowboys trading whoring stories over a beer. Those are really the only two connections I’ve got, I’m sure there will be more as time goes on. Also I just thought I’d add I’ve seen guys go to amazing lengths not to have to touch the handle to flush toilettes or urinals. I mean they’ll step on the handle or kick it. And I swear to you I’ve seen someone push down a handle on a urinal that’s as high as 5’. I kid you not. And he did it like it was THE most natural thing in the world. I was like “jeez man ever think of taking up hurdling”? So yeah that’s the Saloon Theory.

The Asspants Confession

While on the subject of men’s restroom’s I have to share this incredibly embarrassing story, mostly at the request of my Old roommate Robb, who I’ve mentioned before. I’ll let you in on a secret, I can get pretty vain. So yeah if there’s a mirror I’ll check myself out, mostly to make sure my flys not down and that my shirts not all twisted around my waste. Now the story begins when I bought some new dress pants. I had just ruined three pairs of slacks in three weeks time. One to bleach, one to a print toner cartridge that also died part of my leg blue and painted my hands up like I’d stolen money from a bank and the little ink cartridge had exploded, and a third to a whole in the butt. So I went and picked up some new slacks. Man they’re sweet! So yeah I tried them on at home and they fit great, in fact I noticed, and yes go ahead and laugh, they made me look like I have a great ass. Now I’m just man enough to admit that I noticed that. So please let it go. Moving on. Fastforward to Monday at the office. I went to the restroom, did my business and washed my hands. Then noticing I was alone and I decided to check out my ass in the mirrors. I was busy checking myself out and suddenly I heard the door open, I looked up but no one came in. So I exited the restroom and there was this guy right outside the door, kind of waiting to go in. And umm yeah so he caught me checkin’ myself out in my asspants, as my Old roommate Robb has decided to call them. Man I feel better now that I’ve just humiliated myself in front of the whole internet. What will I post next? Who knows, but this is the last time we talk about the ass pants. Unless you’re my long distance relationship interest Aubrey. She gets a huge kick out of my ass pants story.