Adventures in Dating: La vengeance se mange très-bien froide, et avec charcuteries

(DISCLAIMER: Sorry OSP has been a little MIA.  One of your faithful bloggers is on her honeymoon; the other was out of town for work then vacation.  We still love you though.)

I’m not going to lie.  Sometimes when I feel like I’ve been crossed I turn into a petulant six year old whose first instinct is to stomp my feet and throw things.  Normally I don’t act on this instinct but to be honest, sometimes acting like a silly child really does make me feel better.  In the story that follows, I had a partner-in-crime who indulges my silliness for better or for worse.  In this case, it was clearly for the better.

A few years ago, I dated a French guy, let’s call him Perdant (google translate that word and you’ll see it’s appropriate).  Perdant was…interesting.  He was the kind of guy who shunned TV (“ezz boaring”), listened to music called “noise,” listened to said music only on cassette or vinyl, wore super tight jeans, lived like a hobo and brought sherry to parties.  Perdant entertained me so I kept seeing him.  I also liked the accent.  I ended up moving to DC during the time I was seeing him and we kept up a sort of semi-relationship long-distance.  All of a sudden, Perdant stopped returning my calls, texts and emails.  I made sure he wasn’t dead through a friend who worked in the same building he worked in, chalked this lack of communication up to the very French existential crisis he was going through (swear to God we actually had a conversation about whether he was actually a scientist (he had his PHd), what did it mean for him to be a scientist, where did he belong, blah blah blah…I may have tuned out about halfway through, just sayin’) and moved on to Shooter.  Four months later, I get an email from Perdant telling me that he was seeing someone else, that it was serious and that he didn’t think it was a good idea for us to get together before, but that I should say hello next time I was home.  I was pissed that this communication came four months late, but by that point, I figured he was a weird jerk and I was better without him. 

I ended up back home for part of the summer last year.  Out of my sense of curiosity (apparently I’m a glutton for punishment when it comes to men) I reached out to Perdant to see if he would want to meet up.  He responded immediately, “Yes, let’s get together.”  So we set up plans to meet at a bar for happy hour.  I showed up on time, found a table, ordered a Sam Adams and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  One hour and two beers later, I realized I had been stood up.  I emailed Perdant, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt and said, “Did I mix up the dates?  I was at the bar, but you never showed.”  No reply for three weeks.  At this point, his name got carved in stone in the dickhead category.  Two days before I was set to leave the country for two months he emailed me and said that he was so sorry for not showing up, and asked if could we get together now.  I said that I was busy every second until I left for Europe and had no time for him. 

Usually, I get great satisfaction out of being cold and mean to people who have offended me.  This time though, my petulance kicked in.  Being mean wasn’t enough, I needed to exact revenge in some other petty way for two years of dickheadedness (that’s French, look it up).  My first thought was to TP his house—but he lived in an apartment so that was quickly nixed.  I turned to my partner-in-crime and fellow founder of the FSP (Former Senate Pages, a secret spy agency we created after going to the Spy Museum…we might write each other letters in invisible ink…) for ideas.  I should note that she also works in the same building he worked in.  Our brainstorming session led nowhere, or so I thought. 

Two days later, my PIC told me that she had exacted revenge.  While she was walking down the hall, she stepped on a dirty rubber eraser in the shape of a pig.  She proceeded to place said pig eraser in Perdant’s mailbox and then ran like crazy out of the mailroom.  I’m sure that Perdant has written some “noise” about this incident.  Was it the most ridiculous, silly, childish, petty thing a person could do for her friend?  Yes.  Did it make me feel about a million times better?  Yes.  Sometimes pulling a childish prank is just what you need to deal with ridiculous adults.  

Restaurant Rules

Just a few days ago, a hellacious experience at a restaurant who shall remain nameless, left me with such a bad experience that I just knew I had to blog about it.  I woke up on a glorious weekend morning just craving an omelette and, upon discovering I had no eggs, cheese or anything to put in the omelette, my fiance and I agreed on a nice little brunch out - something we don't do too often.  With violation after violation of the rules below, my nice little brunch turned into the worst experience ever.  So here goes, a guide for restauranteurs, servers and patrons alike.  
In sum,  patrons, don't be afraid to leave a 62 cent tip.  Or better yet, no tip at all.  Or even better yet, refuse to pay your bill.  I've done it before and believe you me, I'll do it again if so provoked.  And restauranteurs and servers, don't take that as a sign that the customer is a jerk, take that as a sign that you are horrible at what you do.  Do better.   

1.  Greet the table promptly.  

There are some very simple things that can make a restaurant experience go well, or go completely south, and this is one of them.  Even if you don't have time to get a drink order, at a bare minimum, acknowledge the table.  If I have to wait 15 minutes for you to even say that "you'll be with me shortly," I'm not going to be happy.  (Note:  I normally would have walked out at this point, but this is brunch and girl needs her coffee to think clearly).  

2.  Get any non-bar beverages promptly. 

Last time I checked, pouring a glass of water and a cup of coffee took all of a minute.  So why, why, do I have to wait 15 minutes to even get my water and coffee?  Did you actually go to Columbia to get the coffee beans?  No, you were just being lazy.  I'm paying you to do something I could very well do myself, in my own home, while wearing my pajamas.  Do it right.  (Note:  I normally would have flagged a waitress, or even a manager, but the promise of an egg white omelette was the oasis in this desert).  

3.  Do not let bar beverages sit - and become mush. 

Note to servers:  I know you might not be of legal age to drink, but when you let a mixed or blended beverage sit for too long at the bar, it becomes mush and disgusting and I don't want to drink it anymore.  (Note:  I normally would have sent the beverage back for another one, but in my famished, dehydrated and un-bloody mary-ied state, I was in no condition to put up a fuss).  

4.  If you're going to offer a special, actually have a special.  

This is something that constantly amazes me about restaurants - they offer a special, and then, don't actually have that special in or ready for that day.  Are you just teasing me for the fun of it then?  Do you enjoy the crushed look on my face when I find out that I can't have the exact flavor of blended margarita that led me into your booth-lined hellhole in the first place?  

5.  Have enough staff to handle the day.  

This isn't rocket science.  You know approximately how many people will be coming to the restaurant on any given day.  You know how many people you need to work to take care of that many people.  Get them up, out of their beds and sobered up from drinking all the leftover booze at the restaurant bar the night before and in to work.  

6.  Bring out the right meal.  

This also isn't rocket science.  When the woman across from me orders two eggs over easy with toast and bacon, she actually meant that - not a fluffy belgian waffle topped with whipped cream and fruit.  In fact, I seem to remember from my restaurant serving days that these kinds of things are actually written down on paper - then printed up on a ticket - for you to read while serving the table.    

7.  Bring out the meal in a timely fashion.

I do not like to make a habit of waiting 45 minutes for a meal.  Just because my company and I are having a lovely conversation does not give you free license to be a lazy sloth and completely forget about your table.  Again, I must remind you that you are being paid to do something I can do myself.  Do it.  (Note:  I have actually waited this long for a meal, flipped out a few times during the waiting period and then flipped out royally when it arrived.  The rest of this story to continue in #8) 

8.  Never, ever, tell a customer they are wrong.  

I don't care what's going on in the kitchen or wherever.  Never, ever tell a customer that they are the ones who are wrong.  I'm pretty sure they know how long it took you to get their drinks and how long they waited for their meal, and how crappy your attitude has been better than you.  So when I demand that you send a manager over to speak to me, and I begin to relay to the manager my awful, horrid tale, don't dare correct me.  Also don't dare start speaking to your manager in a language you know I don't understand.  I'm already outraged, and there is no need to incur more of my wrath.  (Note:  A server actually did this to me after subjecting me to all these ridiculous server foibles.  I proceeded to continue to ream her out, with her manager right there.  I also reamed the manager out, for allowing the server to behave this way).  

9.  Hostesses:  Get it under control.     

Sweetie, let me just say this.  Putting people's names on a list and making sure you seat them in approximately that order is not difficult.  Stop flirting with your 16 year old boyfriend and texting your best friend all the superadorableomg things he says and do your job.  Otherwise, how else will you pay for that backless prom dress with the slit up to godknowswhere?  

10.  Patrons:  Control your children.  

I cannot emphasize this enough.  If you are going to bring your children to a restaurant, make sure you have put enough of the fear of God into them that one sharp stare from you will correct any bad behavior.  If this doesn't jive with your I-wanna-be-your-friend theory of parenting, get a babysitter and stop ruining my moment with my martini.  

Emoticons: They Don’t Accomplish What You Think They Do

I remember the first time I ever saw an emoticon.  It was back in the late ‘90s and using my Compuserve email account (yep you heard right: Compuserve.  Just saying it brings me flashes of the song Mmmbop and checking email in between chapters of whatever Judy Bloom book I was reading)  I was exchanging emails with a classmate.  Even though we were in all of the same classes, had a note notebook (one notebook containing all our notes to each other that we’d pass back and forth in the hall between classes), and ate lunch together, at night we tried out this new thing called email and kept up our 24/7 communication (pre-cell phones and text messages).  I remember in one of her emails I saw a bunch of equal signs followed by an end parenthesis.  I was so confused.  Were these math equations?  Then I realized that “=)” was a smiley face.  

From there advances in social media progressed.  Next there was the AOL IM account, my own Yahoo! email account, text messages, work, Gmail, Gchat and so on.  A lot of my friendships are conducted primarily through these forums (phone calls are for losers!).  The problem of course with communicating like this is that tone doesn’t translate.  You can read an email or an IM and perceive it as being incredibly bitchy when it was not meant that way, or you can lose some of the emphasis you want to have in a “go fuck yourself email.”   This is where emoticon use (and abuse I will argue) come into play.

The purpose of emoticons are of course to show emotion.  To me, they make most sense where they’re used in lieu of words.  Maybe to compliment something you’ve said.  I use them and I'm not saying they should be ditched entirely.  But there are a few ways that emoticons get used that drives me up the wall. 

The first is the overuse of the emoticon.  In the office, please do not send me an email asking me to do something work related and followed by a smiley face.  It looks like the work product of a 13 year old girl.  Seriously.  In the work place, be professional.  This isn’t elementary school; we don’t gold stars on our work product, I don’t need a smiley face either.  Say what you mean, mean what you say and you won’t need the emoticon.  Plus in my line of work, those documents could end up being produced in a public forum and I don’t want to look like an unprofessional intern and neither do you, late 40s boss.

The second is the use of an emoticon to cover-up a bitchy statement.  Recently an email came to us in the office reminding us to complete our billing by the end of the month.  It ended with “I will be giving up names for the late birds so please get your time in on time! :-)”  You JUST said that you’re going to turn us in for discipline if we didn’t have something done by 4pm on a certain day.  That’s not a happy statement!  That’s a bitchy statement and the emoticon doesn’t make you look like less of a bitch.  It just doesn’t!  Once I had a text message exchange where it was clear I had annoyed the other person as evidenced by a very curt reply.  In my head I thought, “Sheesh calm down dude.”  But I’m a big girl and don’t take things like that personally.  I sent a reply like “Understood” or something and I got back, “THANK YOU!!! :-D.”  Listen sugar, the “extra happy face” does not make up for being a dick!  Just go with it, or say something along the lines of “I’m sorry for that last message.  That was short of me.”  Emoticon doesn’t make it better!  It also doesn’t cover up passive-aggressiveness.    I had a roommate who would leave messages on our whiteboard like, “Put knives down sharp end down in the dishwasher, I like my arteries! :-)”  Sugar, clearly you were mad that you were almost cut.  JUST BE MAD!  The emoticon did not make your angry statement less angry!  If you had said that statement in person, I seriously doubt you would have had a smile on your face. 

So everyone, own your emotions and ditch the unnecessary emoticons.  They’re not accomplishing what you think they are.   

Guilty Pleasures: Television Edition

Look, anyone who knows me, knows I'm a hardworking lady.  On average, I spend about 14 hours a day engaged in some form or another of intellectual activity.  And while I love that kind of challenge, when I get home, I'm ready to turn it off for a little while and watch some TV that will absolutely not force me to think in any way, whatsoever.  So here it is, my favorite ways to dumb it down after a long day.  

1.  Toddlers & Tiaras 

Whoever thought this gem up should be given an award.  Even though every mother on this show is clearly a stage mother and the children either (a) hate what their doing or (b) are being bred for a career involving a pole, I CANNOT break myself away.  And somehow, every time I watch an episode, I find myself wondering which of my friends will let me borrow their child to groom for pageant life.   

2.  Dancing with the Stars 

This is pure genius.  Let's take B-list and lower celebrities and give them their second shot at 15 minutes of fame by teaching them how to do something they know absolutely NOTHING about.  Pure. Genius.   

3.  Real Housewives of New Jersey 

If you haven't caught on yet to the Real Housewives series, you are sorely missing out.  Women with money (from husbands, family or careers) spend an hour a week showing America just how well they can spend their money and just how poorly they can behave.  In the New Jersey edition, every stereotype of Jersey living is amplified.  Each episode is chock-full of big hair, glitter, faux fur, tight dresses and the occasional reference to organized crime.  It never fails to bring out my inner Jersey girl.  

4.  Real Housewives of Orange County 

"RHOC," as us admitted Bravo TV addicts call it, merits separate mention from New Jersey (and separate mention from all the other cities).  RHOC is the original Real Housewives, and boy, it is a winner.  There's more plastic in any one room on that show at any given time than there in an entire Mattel factory.  Despite the fact that I'm appalled by all the name calling and ridiculous attempts at having a "career," I still ask my hairdresser to cut my hair like Gretchen's every time.  

5.  Glee 

If I get home super late from work, I will stay up even super later just to watch Glee on DVR.  Are the story lines anything new?  No, of course not.  Every week presents new teenage angst.  He likes her, but she likes him and she wants to be on Broadway and Sue Sylvester is out to destroy them all.  Still, it makes me want to start my own Glee club.  And believe you me, my Glee club would have some seriously stellar performances.  

6.  Man v. Food 

America at its best.  What is more American that watching a man (or even better, being the man) who literally stuffs his face with more food than humanly possible JUST to see if he can do it and not die?  I often think that I could do one of the hot wing challenges.  And then I remember how much I cried after nuclear wings at Buffalo Wild Wings.  

7.  Family Guy 

I admit it openly.  Crass humor makes me giggle.  There's something so refreshing about a baby endeavoring to take over the entire world (and take out his mother in the process).   

8.  South Park 

There's something wonderful about South Park - they literally make fun of everybody.  And I mean everybody.  Mormons, Catholics, Republicans, Democrats, Rainforest activists, WWE wrestlers, Rednecks, the cast of the Jersey Shore.  It's Equal Opportunity Humor.  You can't go wrong.  

9.  My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding 

More television brilliance.  If you haven't seen this yet (it's on TLC), you absolutely MUST.  It follows young gypsy women (and by young, I mean 13-18 on average) who are marrying their gypsy husbands.  These gowns are out of this world! Just last week, I actually saw a girl who had her gown wired with lighting.  While the gypsies are strict about male-female interaction before marriage, the young women wear clothes made with less fabric than a newborn onesie and dance like Britney a la Slave 4 U.  Wrap your head around that.    

10.  Say Yes to the Dress 

Weddings clearly provide fodder for exploiting already heightened emotions.  And nothing is more easily exploited than selecting "THE DRESS." In yet another winner from TLC, brides and their moms/family/friends/in-laws shop for the most important dress the bride will ever wear.  Inevitably, there will be a blow up.  The bride has a different vision of her dress than the people she's selected to help her pick out her gown.  Or, the bride has fallen in love with a gown 3 times more expensive than her budget.  Nothing, however, nothing, is more wonderful than when the bride selects a gown (which a number of bride have on the gown) that is literally a see through corset with a poofy skirt.  Nothing says sacred vows more than a bustier attached to tulle.