Saturday, July 03, 2004
last weekend, part 3...
Looking for Part 1 and Part 2? Just click on those links!
Back in the van we went. We drove back to civilization, i.e. Glendale, and decided to get something to eat in the many restaurants that line Brand Blvd. We passed a restaurant that I had been to once before, over ten years ago, but at which I had never actually eaten (it’s a jazz supper club). I suggested that one, we parked and into the restaurant we went. We proceeded to do the usual restaurant stuff (menu-perusing, drink-food ordering, free-bread-table-hockey – what, doesn’t everyone do that? Never mind…), ate our appetizer as we talked and laughed. Our main courses were brought and we dug into them. No long after I was intent on my spaghettini twirling when I heard an odd plop and CuteNerdBoy scream like – well, he didn’t really scream like a little girl. I’d say it was closer to a loud yell, with perhaps a helping of bellow and the teeniest pinch of high-pitched scream mixed in. Whatever it was, it was laden with displeased surprise. I looked up and, clear as day and nearly big as a chihuahua, was a roach.
Believe me, I’m still shuddering. I daresay CuteNerdBoy is too.
Thing is, this roach was completely unfazed by its fall and my friend’s yell. It just hung out on his bread plate, enjoying the cushy softeness of the French bread it was resting on. It seemed to be checking out its victim, taunting him, thinking, “Hey, how ya doing? Nice bread ya got here. Mind if I sit a spell?”
As a matter of fact CuteNerdBoy did mind and tried to flag down a waiter, but no one seemed to notice his yell or frantically waving arms. The roach, noticing that the guy who was previously using its new summer home was more than a tad put out, realized that maybe hanging out wasn’t such a good thing after all, so it started to scurry. CuteNerdBoy quickly grabbed a napkin and went after the not-so-little bugger. Frustrated that no restaurant employees seemed to notice our obviously disturbed personages, I saw one at the end of the row and headed for him quickly yet resolutely. He was turned away from me, so I touched his arm and said, firmly but politely, “Excuse me, but a roach just dropped in my friend’s food.” It was our waiter and he followed me back to our table. I noticed the diners at a nearby table heard me, the older ladies looking as grossed out as I felt.
By this time CuteNerdBoy had caught the roach and had the now dead critter in a napkin, which he showed to our waiter, who looked both grossed out and disturbed. Turns out this was the third time in a few months that this had happened, that construction had begun in another business upstairs and was most likely disturbing the previously unknown roach population. He apologized profusely and got his manager, who also apologized profusely and let us off the hook bill-wise. Which, had he not, I would have been more than a little upset because – Hey! Roach! In food!
And yet again we made our way back to his van, creeped out and freaked out and desperately trying to keep the food that we did eat from making a return appearance. We started driving in the direction of my place again, wondering what to do next and almost afraid to do it, what with the aborted hike and aborted dinner. But I was not ready to go home yet and I said as much, whereupon CuteNerdBoy suggested a movie. We brainstormed and, again, it was his suggestion of the theaters at the Universal Citiwalk that we followed. The Citiwalk was on the way and wasn’t far from my home, so a perfect idea.
Again with the parking – though this time it included paying $8, which I think is pretty steep for parking – and with the walking to our destination. Once at the theaters CuteNerdBoy expressed a preference for Fahrenheit 9/11 and since I also wanted to see it, I agreed. Thing was, we had just missed the beginning of the last showing and the next one wasn’t for nearly three hours. *sob* Not an aborted movie too! And all of the other movies up on the board? CuteNerdBoy had already seen. Except White Chicks, which neither of us felt was a movie we needed to see.
Instead we decided to walk around, do a little window shopping, and see what time it was when we were done, at which time we’d decide our next move. We did so, lamenting the change of The Upstart Crow from a café/bookstore to a café/gift shop with only a few books gracing the shelves. We went into two sci-fi/comic book type stores and nearly drooled at all we saw (oh, how I wanted to take home the little bust of Grand Moff Tarkin [I really think they need a Count Dooku bust – Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing fan that I am, this would be one of the few times I buy memorabilia of any kind, let alone Star Wars memorabilia]). At one point we decided our stomachs and constitutions had recovered enough from the roach incident to get some dessert and coffee, so we trolled the Citiwalk to find something. After walking the length of the upstairs food court he spied with his little eye something as my attention was elsewhere.
“Cinnabon,” he uttered.
I looked up. “Ooh!” I then proceeded to grab his arm and pull/push him in the direction of the place he had seen, anticpating the sweet gooey goodness that only Cinnabon seems to be capable of imparting to its yummy cinnamon rolls. I should disclose that by this time I was experiencing my hummingbird on speed mode. Unfortunately, by the time I warned CuteNerdBoy, I was already well into it. Hey, if nothing else, I’m sure he found it more than a little amusing. And sometimes that's enough for a girl. Even if she is becoming increasingly flirtatious. Oh, yeah, that flirt was definitely making an appearance.
So yeah. Cinnibon (original, of course - neither of us are all that sure about the all the new-fangled rolls they're now selling) and Starbucks drinks and soon after that we were ready for the movie. So into Fahrenheit 9/11 we went. And as I’ve written before, by the end of the movie we were both quietly furious. My peppy mood from before the movie was completely gone. I think I even scared my friend a little when, as we left the parking structure, I declared that I was in the mood to pound on something, despite the fact that whenever I throw or hit something out of anger (which is rare), I never feel better for expending the energy. If fact, I usually feel worse because what I’m feeling – and what I felt at that point – is impotent rage and neither throwing keys nor kicking a metal post begins to express my feelings.
On the way home CuteNerdBoy tried to distract me a bit with a song he had mentioned earlier (Aimee Mann’s cover of a James Bond song – I think it was Nobody Does It Better), which helped a little, but not much. And we parted with the usual friendly hugs and kisses.
So, you see why I didn’t write up the whole thing after I got home. There’s a lot to write up for one day, let alone the whole weekend.
(Imagine if I had tried this with the weekend in Big Sur – that would have been a daily serial lasting at least a month.)
I’ve got more stories to tell about this past week – for instance, talking about how it finally looks like I’m going to be a permanent employee at the CommercialFurnitureCompany. Or a very recent admission about something via e-mail to someone recently, something pretty major. We haven’t had the chance to actually talk about it yet, but this person has promised me that we will and, though I know it’ll be okay because of the people involved, I’m still more than a little freaked out. I may or may not write about it here. I haven’t decided yet.
But those are tales for another time. I’ve got to be off to take a drug test for my new permanent job. (And yes, I studied for it. I made sure I took a bunch of drugs so that I know what the effects of each are. Dude, I am soooo prepared for this test! Rock on! Whoo!!!! Oh man, I feel like shit.) And later in the day, such as early evening, I’ll be going to visit with my mom, where I will spend the night and hang with family tomorrow for Fourth of July, at which time I will be driven home. It’s going to be a fun weekend, I’m sure, even if my brain never gets out of the freaked loop it’s currently running around in. And I have Monday off, with nothing planned for it, so that’s pretty cool!
A fabulous weekend to all of you, whether it’s a holiday weekend for you or not (well, I do have Canadian and Irish readers, ya know). Please stay safe. And for my American readers, please remember that, even if you disagree with (or passionately hate) the current administration, we still have a great country and it’s okay to love it. I do. I consider myself to be far more patriotic than the fuckheads currently running the country. And don’t ever forget, Dissent is the American Way. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.
(I’d link some great articles in the LA Weekly, but my IE is acting really badly with certain websites and that seems to be one of them. So just go there and click and read all the articles about Independence Day. Definitely some food for thought there.)
Back in the van we went. We drove back to civilization, i.e. Glendale, and decided to get something to eat in the many restaurants that line Brand Blvd. We passed a restaurant that I had been to once before, over ten years ago, but at which I had never actually eaten (it’s a jazz supper club). I suggested that one, we parked and into the restaurant we went. We proceeded to do the usual restaurant stuff (menu-perusing, drink-food ordering, free-bread-table-hockey – what, doesn’t everyone do that? Never mind…), ate our appetizer as we talked and laughed. Our main courses were brought and we dug into them. No long after I was intent on my spaghettini twirling when I heard an odd plop and CuteNerdBoy scream like – well, he didn’t really scream like a little girl. I’d say it was closer to a loud yell, with perhaps a helping of bellow and the teeniest pinch of high-pitched scream mixed in. Whatever it was, it was laden with displeased surprise. I looked up and, clear as day and nearly big as a chihuahua, was a roach.
Believe me, I’m still shuddering. I daresay CuteNerdBoy is too.
Thing is, this roach was completely unfazed by its fall and my friend’s yell. It just hung out on his bread plate, enjoying the cushy softeness of the French bread it was resting on. It seemed to be checking out its victim, taunting him, thinking, “Hey, how ya doing? Nice bread ya got here. Mind if I sit a spell?”
As a matter of fact CuteNerdBoy did mind and tried to flag down a waiter, but no one seemed to notice his yell or frantically waving arms. The roach, noticing that the guy who was previously using its new summer home was more than a tad put out, realized that maybe hanging out wasn’t such a good thing after all, so it started to scurry. CuteNerdBoy quickly grabbed a napkin and went after the not-so-little bugger. Frustrated that no restaurant employees seemed to notice our obviously disturbed personages, I saw one at the end of the row and headed for him quickly yet resolutely. He was turned away from me, so I touched his arm and said, firmly but politely, “Excuse me, but a roach just dropped in my friend’s food.” It was our waiter and he followed me back to our table. I noticed the diners at a nearby table heard me, the older ladies looking as grossed out as I felt.
By this time CuteNerdBoy had caught the roach and had the now dead critter in a napkin, which he showed to our waiter, who looked both grossed out and disturbed. Turns out this was the third time in a few months that this had happened, that construction had begun in another business upstairs and was most likely disturbing the previously unknown roach population. He apologized profusely and got his manager, who also apologized profusely and let us off the hook bill-wise. Which, had he not, I would have been more than a little upset because – Hey! Roach! In food!
And yet again we made our way back to his van, creeped out and freaked out and desperately trying to keep the food that we did eat from making a return appearance. We started driving in the direction of my place again, wondering what to do next and almost afraid to do it, what with the aborted hike and aborted dinner. But I was not ready to go home yet and I said as much, whereupon CuteNerdBoy suggested a movie. We brainstormed and, again, it was his suggestion of the theaters at the Universal Citiwalk that we followed. The Citiwalk was on the way and wasn’t far from my home, so a perfect idea.
Again with the parking – though this time it included paying $8, which I think is pretty steep for parking – and with the walking to our destination. Once at the theaters CuteNerdBoy expressed a preference for Fahrenheit 9/11 and since I also wanted to see it, I agreed. Thing was, we had just missed the beginning of the last showing and the next one wasn’t for nearly three hours. *sob* Not an aborted movie too! And all of the other movies up on the board? CuteNerdBoy had already seen. Except White Chicks, which neither of us felt was a movie we needed to see.
Instead we decided to walk around, do a little window shopping, and see what time it was when we were done, at which time we’d decide our next move. We did so, lamenting the change of The Upstart Crow from a café/bookstore to a café/gift shop with only a few books gracing the shelves. We went into two sci-fi/comic book type stores and nearly drooled at all we saw (oh, how I wanted to take home the little bust of Grand Moff Tarkin [I really think they need a Count Dooku bust – Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing fan that I am, this would be one of the few times I buy memorabilia of any kind, let alone Star Wars memorabilia]). At one point we decided our stomachs and constitutions had recovered enough from the roach incident to get some dessert and coffee, so we trolled the Citiwalk to find something. After walking the length of the upstairs food court he spied with his little eye something as my attention was elsewhere.
“Cinnabon,” he uttered.
I looked up. “Ooh!” I then proceeded to grab his arm and pull/push him in the direction of the place he had seen, anticpating the sweet gooey goodness that only Cinnabon seems to be capable of imparting to its yummy cinnamon rolls. I should disclose that by this time I was experiencing my hummingbird on speed mode. Unfortunately, by the time I warned CuteNerdBoy, I was already well into it. Hey, if nothing else, I’m sure he found it more than a little amusing. And sometimes that's enough for a girl. Even if she is becoming increasingly flirtatious. Oh, yeah, that flirt was definitely making an appearance.
So yeah. Cinnibon (original, of course - neither of us are all that sure about the all the new-fangled rolls they're now selling) and Starbucks drinks and soon after that we were ready for the movie. So into Fahrenheit 9/11 we went. And as I’ve written before, by the end of the movie we were both quietly furious. My peppy mood from before the movie was completely gone. I think I even scared my friend a little when, as we left the parking structure, I declared that I was in the mood to pound on something, despite the fact that whenever I throw or hit something out of anger (which is rare), I never feel better for expending the energy. If fact, I usually feel worse because what I’m feeling – and what I felt at that point – is impotent rage and neither throwing keys nor kicking a metal post begins to express my feelings.
On the way home CuteNerdBoy tried to distract me a bit with a song he had mentioned earlier (Aimee Mann’s cover of a James Bond song – I think it was Nobody Does It Better), which helped a little, but not much. And we parted with the usual friendly hugs and kisses.
So, you see why I didn’t write up the whole thing after I got home. There’s a lot to write up for one day, let alone the whole weekend.
(Imagine if I had tried this with the weekend in Big Sur – that would have been a daily serial lasting at least a month.)
I’ve got more stories to tell about this past week – for instance, talking about how it finally looks like I’m going to be a permanent employee at the CommercialFurnitureCompany. Or a very recent admission about something via e-mail to someone recently, something pretty major. We haven’t had the chance to actually talk about it yet, but this person has promised me that we will and, though I know it’ll be okay because of the people involved, I’m still more than a little freaked out. I may or may not write about it here. I haven’t decided yet.
But those are tales for another time. I’ve got to be off to take a drug test for my new permanent job. (And yes, I studied for it. I made sure I took a bunch of drugs so that I know what the effects of each are. Dude, I am soooo prepared for this test! Rock on! Whoo!!!! Oh man, I feel like shit.) And later in the day, such as early evening, I’ll be going to visit with my mom, where I will spend the night and hang with family tomorrow for Fourth of July, at which time I will be driven home. It’s going to be a fun weekend, I’m sure, even if my brain never gets out of the freaked loop it’s currently running around in. And I have Monday off, with nothing planned for it, so that’s pretty cool!
A fabulous weekend to all of you, whether it’s a holiday weekend for you or not (well, I do have Canadian and Irish readers, ya know). Please stay safe. And for my American readers, please remember that, even if you disagree with (or passionately hate) the current administration, we still have a great country and it’s okay to love it. I do. I consider myself to be far more patriotic than the fuckheads currently running the country. And don’t ever forget, Dissent is the American Way. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.
(I’d link some great articles in the LA Weekly, but my IE is acting really badly with certain websites and that seems to be one of them. So just go there and click and read all the articles about Independence Day. Definitely some food for thought there.)
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