The Curry Chronicles

Free Coffee Isn't Really Free If It Costs Me My Dignity

To preface this entry it should be known that EVERY morning before heading off to work where I try to teach young children the difference between red and green, one and two, a and b, oink and moo and my favorite, mine and ours (this is where I also have the lovely, only slightly demoralizing privelage of  teaching them how to go to the potty without getting pee everywhere, a very difficult task for  boys mind you), I stop at Mad Hatter's to get my usual large coffee and pumpkin muffin to go, $4.13.  And every morning I have the "privelage" of being served by the same waiter, we'll call him George, I have no idea of his actual name but he looks like a George.  Anyway, George is always very nice, a little too perky for me at 8:00 in the morning, but whatever, he works at a coffee shop that opens at 6:00 am, who knows how many cups he's had by 8:00.  Or maybe he is just truley a morning person, although I still feel strongly that these people don't exist.  They say they are, but really, they're just confused.  Back to the story, George, who is one of the managers, always seems very excited to see me.  Excited in that way that every morning when I walk in I'm thinking "oh no, god I really hope George is in the office doing paperwork and not at the counter serving." But on most days he is at the counter, and most days, despite my best efforts to get in the other line, I still always end up being served by George.  It should be said that George is a very sweet guy and is nothing but well-intentioned in his conversations.  However, I think George is just a little weird.  Weird in that way that he likes anime.  Every morning he comments on my change purse that I suppose straddles the line between anime and cute, but then he wants to start talking about Japaese anime to which I wanna say, "dude, I bought it cause I thought it was cute, I actually find nothing even remotely entertaining about japanese comics, I'm an adult."  (Although, granted, you might not be able to tell that from my wardrobe.)  I also think he's weird because, and though this is only speculation, I feel that he's the type of guy who would go to a Star Trek convention adorned in a full on Data costume.  (Captain Jean Luc Picard and Whoopi, the crazy psychic bartender, were the only two reasons to watch that show.)  All this to say, it's pretty safe to assume that George has a little crush on me.  Now I could be wrong, I tend to jump to conclusions when it comes to guys liking me, but usually when the guy is weird, I'm spot on.  Now I realize I'm no Marina Sirtis, but I can definitely do better than Data.  (Just so you know, I had to wikipedia the name of the girl, I don't know all the characters by heart, I am sorta cool.)  I suppose I could find a new morning stop, the coffee at Mad Hatters is not the best by any standards.  But those pumpkin muffins, damn the little crumblies on top. 

So in conclusion, I will continue to want for the something that will burn the roof of my mouth off.  I will continue to wait for the curry.

On a completely different note, damn, 'Bama can dance.  If his moves on the dance floor are any indication of what his first one hundred days in office will look like then I think it's safe to assume that things are finally lookin' up.  Signed, sealed, delivered, he's ours! 

Daniel Cleaver or Mark Darcy?

2009.  A new year.  Two new years infact, considerng that my birthday was just three days ago.  Ugh...27.  That wouldn't be so bad, I realize that 27 is not THAT old, but when you're staring down the barrel of spinsterhood, it's just one more year closer to dying cold and alone with no one to know except the cats who will by then have become my only companions.  Why is it that in a world where men outnumber women 2:1 is it so hard to find a decent, good-hearted man.  I guess in my case it's because I don't seem to be attracted to these men.   Afterall, I think that Daniel Cleaver is much more desirable than Mark Darcy.  Possibly, therein lies my problem.  But it's like a friend once told me, good men seem to make the worst lovers.  I apologize to all the good men out there, but if this is true, then I am definitely screwed. 

But this is a new year.  A chance to start again.  A chance to bitchslap spinsterhood in the face with the pint of Ben & Jerry's Chocaolate Chip Cookie Dough that permanently resides in my freezer and say NO!  I have two options.  I can either give up and learn to accept the men who have good manners outside the bedroom or I can continue to look for the man who drives me abolutely mad, whom I tend to hate more than love most of the time and with whom massive displays of disagreement occur spontaneously and constanly in public venues.  Sorry mother, but despite the new year and the oppurtunity for change, I choose the latter.   Maybe 28 will bring about change.  But for now, I wait.  And while I wait, I have vodka...and Chaka Khan.  

Bridget Jones said, "The way I look at it, in everyone's life, there's a certain amount of shit.  In the last year, things have turned out pretty shitty.  So logically, mathematically even, it's got to be time for something not shit."  

Patty Griffin said, "I don't know nothin' except change will come.  Year after year what we do is undone."  

Bridget, Patty, God I hope you're right.  

Happy Fuckin' New Year.