I have only 99 days of work left until I can quit. That doesn’t sound so bad. I have been looking forward to moving out of this area nearly from the minute I moved here. Except now I don’t know where to go. John won’t be accepted to any Grad schools until Fall of next year, so we won’t know where we can move until about May when he gets his letters. But we really don’t want to stay here to wait it out. I really want to move back to Sonora, but it is getting more expensive to live there than in the city. I know my parents don’t want us to live with them, but who else would have us for only six months? You usually count on roommates to stay around for longer than that. I welcome any suggestions (particularly the helpful kind).
A guy came into the store yesterday and started checking out shoes (it IS a shoe store). When I went over to help him, he started explaining that he was dissapointed with the cologne selection in this town and that he now has to go to San Fransisco to buy his $90 cologne. Why he thought this would mean anything to me, I don’t know. He then asked me if I had any shoe recommendations. I asked him what his price range was and he said “Oh, about $80″! What kind of man spends more on his perfume than his shoes? Here’s a tip: girls like it if you smell nice (though he smelled like a whorehouse), but smelling clean is really good enough. It is more important that you dress nicely- it sounds shallow, but it makes such a huge, often subconscious, difference. I ended up going out with John and my lovely new friend Nicole later. While I was sitting at the bar telling Nicole this story, I realized that the guy was right behind me! I don’t know if he heard me (I do tend to get a little loud when I drink), but I kind of don’t think he did. He still smelled like a chemical spill, but he was dressed up. He had a dark pewter silk shirt and nice black slacks … and the ugliest shoes. His whole look was ruined. THe lesson? You can wear ugly clothes and get by if you have nice shoes, but no outfit works with ugly shoes. For this revelation, you are welcome.
Like I said, we went out with Nicole last night. In the first bar, she knew the bartender. ALways, always go drinking with somebody who is friends with the bartender! John had two drinks, I had three and Nicole had four (Nicole and I share a fondness for gin and tonics). But the bartender started practicing on us, too. He made us two practice drinks (both pretty good) and would give us the remainder every time he would make a drink for another customer in the mixer that was too big for the glass. It was great! When we asked for the bill, he looked at the three of us and said “$20 for all of you.” I wanted to kiss him (he did make strong drinks) but he is very gay and really wouldn’t have appreciated it. We then moved on to chicken soft tacos with the young golfer Nicole befriended in the first bar. After the spicy salsa, we sauntered over to the second bar, called the Shanty. The Shanty is not what you would call a high class establishment. It’s, frankly,pretty filthy, but seemes to perform its function as a meat market rather well. Nicole and I had a conversation about what a bad dater she is- picking scumbags and all. I told her that she really needed to start looking for nicer guys. She froze, looked at me and said “have you been looking around tonight?” I suddenly realized that I really DON’T look at men that way anymore. I have blinders for anyone but John. They’ve all become brothers or something. I looked around the bar and had to admit that they all looked like CRAP. Granted, maybe the bar scene isn’t so great for finding true love, but none of them even seemed to be candidates. It was depressing and gross. I used to wonder what it would be like if I hadn’t met John so early. Thank you to Nicole and one night at the bars for curing me of that! So today is a recovery day. I had A LOT of “distilled” fun last night and didn’t sleep very well. Poor Nicole has to work today!
Oh, by the way guys, we are coming down to the home- town next Saturday night. We won’t be there for long, but maybe we can find a way to get together.
I’ve let you all down! I haven’t written in a while, but I have a good excuse. My mother was here for a couple days and we had a really lovely visit. I am so sad right now that she has left that I am drunk. John and I had to make nachos and a big(very strong) batch of daquiris to help take my mind off of it. I miss her very much.
But, I do have a good story. On Friday I helped a customer with a pair of Chacos. As she was trying on the sandals she started wiggling and asked if she could use the bathroom. Because of previous problems, we no longer allow our customers to use the bathroom. I told her, as usual, that the bathroom was out of order. She said no problem, I’ll just run over to the restaurant next door when we’re finished here. She paid for her shoes and left. A few minutes later I went over to the couch where she had been sitting. This particular couch is actually a rustic wooden bench with dark blue silk throw pillows to cushion the seat and two big leopard print pillows- one for each corner. I noticed that one of the leopard print pillows was misplaced and picked it up to put it back. But, when I looked underneath, I froze. There was a huge, dark, WET spot where this woman had been sitting. She had PISSED on my mother- fucking couch and left it for me to clean up! SHe wasn’t old- she couldn’t have been more than 60 (probably in her late fifties). She wasn’t wierd- she was dressed nicely and (mostly)behaved properly. Why, oh god, why did she piss on my pillow? We will never know, but I’m the lucky one who got to bring it home with me to see if the dry- cleanr can do anything about it. I feel so privileged.
Off to drunken TV watching with the love of my life. If Hannah is reading this- give us a call. If it’s any of the guys- come up and visit, you bastards. We’ll feed you! (If that doesn’t work, tell me what bribe will!)