Archive for the ‘restaurants’ 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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hetero weirdness
October 10, 2007

Ford joined me for a rousing kickboxing class yesterday afternoon, to which he wore a grey athletic t-shirt and navy mesh shorts. If it weren’t for the addition of white knee socks with royal blue stripes up the sides, he actually would have looked decently butch.

Well he took the socks off because he said they were “encumbering his high kicks.” ::eyeroll:: But when we came back from class, Ford in his sweat stained gray shirt with his hair all messy with sweat, smelling like a wrestling team locker room, the pheromones brought Jane out of her bedroom like a cobra out of a basket.

“Ooh, Ford you’re so sweaty,” she said, a hint of sarcasm still thankfully lingering in her voice, but with an edge of something that made me want to squeal under my breath and wave red flags in the air.

“That’s what happens when you sculpt guns like this, Jane,” he shot back back and flexed. There was a bizarre moment of silence while Jane gazed. I banged some pots in the sink to break the sound of Twilight Zone music playing in my ears.

Fast forward ten minutes, and Jane is taunting Ford about his taste for Watermelon Smirnoff Ice. Whew.

I am choosing not to think too hard on that one for the sake of my own sanity.

Also, re: waitressing for the rest of my life–no. I’m looking into doing nursing school during the day. It seems like every other job I see online is for some kind of nursing job. Or I might try to check out some business management classes. Boring, but necessary if I want to move up in this world from the position of customer service wench. Wish a liberal arts degree meant shit in this world.

net zero date
October 9, 2007

Date with Grace (woman who is actually near my age) went okay this weekend. It was sort of a roller coaster though…we went out to an Italian restaurant at her suggestion…which isn’t the most original thing in the world, so, I was feeling like, “Ehh.” Right after she sat down, she began talking about this amazing book she is reading by Ariel Levy, Female Chauvinist Pigs, and talking about the misogyny involved in the news coverage of Hillary Clinton’s campaign, and really impressing me with some feminist thought, so I thought to myself, “Eeh!” Then she ordered a beef dish– Eeh. But then I noticed that she had the longest eyelashes in the entire world, which accented these brilliant almost teal-colored eyes– I mean, I’m not going to lie, this girl is gorgeous–Eeh! She’s more into playing and following tennis than art or poetry though–minus a thousand. But she’s also really involved in GLBT politics in Nashville–plus a thousand. So as you can see, the scales were tipped down and back again, and I’m still at about net zero opinion. Have you ever had a net zero date? I felt like I went back and forth at a dizzying speed until I really had no idea whether I wanted to drive her directly back to my bedroom and light some candles or run away screaming. I mean, I’d see her again if she calls me.

I miss Alana. I called her last night and can’t help but think she didn’t pick up because she was with Bill. Blah.

Have to work tonight. Major Blah.

quickie
October 4, 2007

About to drive to Kickboxing at the Y, then come home, shower, paint my toenails Amelia Redheart, and see what Alana has to say to me tonight when we have dinner at her place.

The thing is, I got a phone number from a customer last night at work. A cute, sweet, smart, Southern customer. Who’s practically my age.

The potential drama is as thick as the humidity today. We need a good rain to clear the air.

Major updates to come.

how (not?) to date married women
October 3, 2007

After my little Sex and the City therapy session on Monday with Ford and an extensive thrift shop binge with Jane yesterday, I felt I’d exorcised Alana from my system. The obsessive cell phone checks had dropped down to about one an hour, which was an improvement. Sometimes when I’m expecting a call from a woman, I convince myself that my phone actually will not ring or vibrate and that the only way I will not miss the call for sure will be to obsessively check the tiny screen for it to light up with that magic name, at which time my heart will emanate rainbows as I pick up the silent call. I say I’m just checking the time, but please. I’m focusing hard on willing sweet little call to come through the airwaves. Cell phone whisperer.

Anyway, cell phone whispering failed. Then last night, as I was carrying two Goblin Tonics to a table of identical twin brothers with hair down to their butts, I nearly dumped my tray onto the floor when I spotted a sweet looking fortyish woman sitting in the corner, stirring a Shirley Temple. Tania, a fellow waitress, brushed up behind me and whispered, “I think someone’s here to see you.” She offered, thankfully, to take my tables for a minute.

Darcy <approaching table with ‘what are you doing here’ tone>: Well hi there.

Alana: Hey Darcy. <which she says, Dahhcy, and I just melt right there, against my will…kind of>

Darcy: Didn’t think I was going to hear from you.

Alana: I didn’t think I was going to call.

Darcy<raising eyebrows>: I can’t really talk now. I have…well, I’m working. <I see Jane frowning in the background from behind the bar, shaking her head and making the “cut” signal>

Alana: That’s okay, I’ll wait.

Darcy: It’s going to be another two hours.

Alana: Meet me at the diner across the street?

<I look over at Jane, who is now bugging her eyes out incredulously>

Darcy: Ummm…okay. I’ll call you when I get out.

We had coffee at three a.m. She didn’t offer any excuses, except for the fact that she was scared about actually loving someone outside of her marriage. I said I wouldn’t stand for being treated like a pool girl, expected to show up in a garter belt with champagne and strawberries every time her husband was out of town (although, come to think of it, that wouldn’t be so terrible…but I digress!) She was much less forward than our first meeting. Kind of shy. She has such large brown doe-eyes, and the longest lashes. She invited me to dinner at her place on Thursday. I’ll probably go.

When I got back home an hour later, I found Jane in our office, lights off, youtube videos of Mark Wahlberg glowing in reflection on her face from the computer, her ironed-straight bottle-red hair up in a ponytail, with Twizzler hanging out of her mouth. She said, “Well, it’s about time, beotch! What the deal?” I told her Alana invited me over for dinner. “Oh yah,” she said, biting off a piece of Twizzler. “Don’t say anything!” I said. She shrugged, gave me a hug, Twizzler still hanging out of her mouth, and sauntered toward her bedroom. She made a little whip-cracking motion with her hand, and said “wha-chh!” and shut the door. Whatevs.

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.