Archive for the ‘money’ Category

halloween party plans
October 18, 2007

Jane and I have decided to have a Halloween party. Our house looks haunted enough, what with the rickety doors and light fixtures (in Martha Stewart world, disrepair=haunted, am I right?) so we figured why not. I haven’t decided what I’m going as yet but we’ve decided that the theme is “Famous Exes.” Ford and I are brainstorming something delish…

I’ve tried to cool down on the girl front. Well okay, I haven’t tried as much as I haven’t had the energy to put in to stoke the desire fires. I haven’t seen or heard from Alana in a week, and we only just had coffee then. Tennis-player and I have gotten together a few times to take walks, but no sparks have flown, and we haven’t even kissed. I guess work is just taking it out of me.

I really don’t mind waitressing, but I hardly have any energy left for even a love life.

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date with Alana and other possibilities
October 5, 2007

She sat me down on a plush sofa, brought me a robust glass of red wine, and disappeared back into the kitchen. Then she called me into dinner in this gargantuan dining area, appeared from the kitchen door carrying two square ceramic plates with a supernova-looking aqua glaze, on top of which she had prepared two plates full of vegetarian sushi with pink radish garnish. It was truly edible art.

“Better to be an older man’s princess than a young man’s whore,” my college friend Danielle used to say when we poked fun at her for dating a forty year old. I hate to say it, but I’m starting to see Danielle’s point.

I know Alana has the money to wine and dine me; she’s one of the rare few who can make good money from figure painting. But I don’t want to be someone’s pool girl, like I said. Still, I can’t say I hate being catered to once in a while, considering that I’m on my feet for six or seven hours most days sloshing trayfulls of booze everywhere.

After some relaxing and a rockin’ back rub, I had to set some boundaries.

Darcy: So, if you’re still with your husband, then…I’m also going to date as well.

Alana<pained expression>: If you’d like.

Darcy: Okay. I will.

So I set up a date with Emma, the girl who left her number for me at the bar, this weekend.

The rest of the night at Alana’s was spent looking at photo albums by the light of dimmed lamps and all of these gorgeous candles she has on sconces around the walls. And there was a kiss or two exchanged. But I’m trying to put the breaks on until I can see things a little clearer. I hope I’m not jumping in too deep here. And even if I am, it beats spending the time watching things like it happen on TV.

re: hott neighbor
September 28, 2007

Let’s do the time warp (again) to junior high maturity level. I had Ford do some recon on The Downstairs Neighbor and the marriage situation. She mentioned her partner, Bill, a couple of times in conversation, with whom she has been living for ten years. But also mentioned an ex-girlfriend she broke up with last year. So I was confused. Ford chatted her up last night and apparently she is in some kind of open relationship situation. Which would explain why she kept touching the small of my back while we were walking around looking at her art. Maybe.

She called me though. She called my cell, and when it lit up and buzzed on the kitchen table, and the caller ID said “Alana,” I nearly had a heart attack full of awkward glee. Speaking of junior high, it’s the, ah gee, I am special feeling, which never changes no matter how old I get and I get a call from a woman I really like. I know you’re not supposed to depend on validation of your attractiveness or intelligence from other people, but…come on. I’m all for healthy self esteem, but that notion is so woo-woo self-help-book and a little boring. Did I mention how cool she is? ::junior high self does a little dance in a circle and points disco hands a few times::

We’re going to a Thai place on the corner of her block and then back to her place for painting. Nervous, nervous. Note to self: two glasses of wine at dinner, tops.

In other news, my first day of work at Poe’s was actually great. I love the people there. Some dude dropped a fifty dollar tip for me too.

raucous workplace > creepy workplace
September 27, 2007

Jane got me a job waiting tables at the place where she finally snagged a bar-tending job, that goth-themed indie bar/restaurant where I met Ford, Poe’s. I feel pretty torn about it, since “waitress” was the job title I was looking to shed by spending four freaking years in college. Should have second-guessed that Art History major with a concentration in Female Professors and Amusing Yet Poor Decisions. Still, the owner of Poe’s is a really decent woman, and it beats the pancake place in WVA where I pretty much had to serve drunken frat boys pancakes on my breasts to get tips enough to pay for rent, groceries, and books. Poe’s is a late-night joint with lots of vegetarian options and hipster kids. Jane says they have decent live music. Everywhere has decent live music here–a perk of Nashville.

Needless to say, the interview with the insurance company was a total clusterfuck. When I got there first thing in the morning, the entire staff was in a soundproof board room that I could see through a glass wall. Their heads were all bowed and their hands were clenched. When they started filing out of the room a few minutes later, I noticed that the women were all wearing these hideous ankle-length khaki skirts. Gary, my interviewer and would-be boss, nervously licked his lips as he lead me into his office. He wanted to know how much experience I had in administrative assistance, and I told him none, and he said “None? No experience?” I said, well, I can take a phone message with the best of them. You read my CV online in order to call me in for an interview. He looked down at my wraparound dress and black heels (conservative outfit, I thought), and said, looking over his glasses, “I don’t know where you’ve worked before. But there will be a dress code in this office. Most of our clients are good Christian families.” Wait for it, wait for it. Then I ask him if he will be my boss, and he goes, “Well, I would be your earthly supervisor. Here, we all have the same boss…in Christ.” I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing, and managed to hold it together until I had just barely stepped out of the office. So waitressing it is. I’d rather deal with some overtly sexual comments and spilt beer than administrative assist at Jesus Creepery, Inc. Remember, he’s watching you, especially when you lead Gary into temptation. Ewww.

My first night on is tonight. And Friday is my big, um, art lesson rendez-vous with The Downstairs Neighbor. And I’m lost on what to wear and what to talk about to such a worldly, beautiful woman.

country club venture
September 22, 2007

We got to the Farmer’s Market as it was closing, so Ford drove me to his uncle’s country club in Belle Meade, a ritzy neighborhood populated by lots of Jaguars and yard workers. THE neighborhood in Nashville…ask Faith Hill.

I was skeptical.

I mean, admittedly, I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t my scene. I’d only been to a country club once before and that was with an ex-girlfriend of mine who was VERY in the closet. We got roped in to Easter brunch with her parents after her mom discovered us in her pink canopied bed, having walked home together the night before from a party two blocks away. Luckily we’d been too drunk to claw each others’ underwear entirely off, so when her mother sauntered into the bedroom, I had just enough time to pull my face out of her pink-lace-covered cleavage where I’d passed out. We sat up to a shrill, “L___! Time to go. Your father’s waiting in the car. And bring your friend along.” (Imagine smeared-mascara-raccoons-in-the-headlights with the sheets pulled up to our chins.)

I was so hung over I had to leave a couple of times to “visit the ladies’.” I remember pink cloth napkins and the clink of her mother’s gargantuan diamond ring against her Bloody Mary as she raised it to her red lips…and recognizing a neighbor of mine who was a waiter there and had to offer us four different types of muffins from a basket. I felt like a traitor.

But despite my reluctance, I had an awesome time with Ford. And I learned to play squash! Squash is like playing raquetball with a ball that’s had most of the bounce taken out. My quads are killing me from lunging.

And I beat Ford like 5 times.

Jane seems kind of agitated now. She’s banging pots and pans around in the kitchen.

Today it’s back to the computer and whoring my resumé out to every possible employer…yah, I just sent one to the Dollar General Management Team. I hope I don’t have to wait tables again.