thatnight.net

The family sits around in lawn chairs, enjoying the 95-degree weather.

Aunt: “They say you’re supposed to spend three-month’s salary on an engagement ring.”

Derrick rolls eyes.

Rachel: “Yeah, I heard that in Knocked Up. Anyway, Derrick’s uninterested in the subject.”

Aunt (jokingly): “Well, you know, he doesn’t have to be the husband.”

Light laughter ensues.

Samantha, age 7, chimes in from pool: “Yeah! He could be the wife!”

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Derrick’s mom bought me a sewing machine today. Now I can make things like this:

…at a much faster rate. Would you like one? $5,000.

I think I want to leave our apartment when the lease is up since my landlord won’t let me have a puppy. That, and the teenage hooligan downstairs plays his guitar at all hours. His parents raise hell when we take showers after 10:30pm, but he’s allowed to strap his amps to the ceiling below our bedroom and JAM LIKE SANTANA.

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We live by a rather large hillside covered in vines. A week or so ago, we noticed a few little kids poking around in the leaves. Later on, I examined the spot, and uncovered what was below all the green – strawberries!

It’s funny how little things are so easily overlooked.

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I’d like to be seven again, and have my only anxiety be the anticipation of the fountains coming back to life, and whether or not I’d be near a spot where the water would shoot out the hardest.

Click here for the full album.

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“Four daredevils tell a spectacular story of love, loss, joy and freedom up on high. Through a whirlwind of dance and movement on 12 foot high flexible poles, the vibrantly costumed couples transcend past, present and future as they move together and apart.”

Saw this show at the Arts Festival this afternoon. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but the result was very pretty. More pictures here.

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I have a real problem. For fear of embarrassment, I will not get into how bad it’s gotten, but take my word, it’s gotten bad. The amount of Ben and Jerry’s I’ve purchased and consumed recently is alarming, and I’ve finally (and reluctantly) decided to do something about it.

I will not quit buying it. Although the prices and calories are somewhat damaging, I’ve developed a plan to moderately decrease my ingestion of ice cream over the next few months (years?).

I’ve decided that once I purchase a flavor of Ben and Jerry’s, I will not be allowed to purchase that flavor again. I will compile a list to avoid anticipated attempts of cheating. I am aware that Ben and Jerry release new flavors almost regularly. This doesn’t pose a problem for me, since I am convinced I can devour ice cream quicker than the new flavors are released, and therefore, when a new flavor comes out, I will be excited about trying it, rather than be secure in the fact that I can buy 3 pints if it’s good.

My rating of the flavors will consist of “thumbs down” and “almost as good as Dave Matthews Band Magic Brownies,” because they’ll never top that flavor. I will hold off on purchasing my favorite during this circuit. It needs to be saved for either a really good or really bad day. But I did begin with these three flavors, two new:

Willie Nelson’s Country Peach Cobbler. I like peach, and there’s of lot of peach here. Not just peach ice cream, but swirls of peaches. Extremely refreshing. Almost as good as Dave Matthews Band Magic Brownies.

Chunky Monkey. I like bananas, but banana flavoring never really pulls it off. Reminds me of either rotten bananas or dried bananas, neither of which I want in ice cream. Thumbs down.

Stephen Colbert’s Americone Dream. I’m still at the point where I’m unsure whether to hug Colbert or kick him in the teeth. The ice cream sort of leaves the same dilemma. The caramel and waffle cone pieces in vanilla ice cream idea is good, but it’s been done. Colbert must have purposely gone conservative. Again. Sorry, thumbs down.

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I was invited to be a contributor at “the official blog for Pittsburgh’s female blogging community.” I think the only thing more flattering than being asked to add to a collaborative blog is being placed on a team of writers who are probably way cooler than I am.

And, I mean, being able to read multiple interesting posts all in the same place? Score for me.

Check it out here.

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It was 8:50 and I was nervously tapping my fingers on the coffee table, waiting for Derrick to get home so he could take me to the Apple Store. The mall closes at 9:30 and it was at least a half hour drive there.

My power cord had been acting funny, probably the result of constant dragging and twisting. And my infatuation with the magnetic connector. Pull it out and it’s tugged right back in. Over and over. It’s not hard to imagine how it finally died completely. Capitulation.

Of course we managed to pull in at 9:26, as the lights in the food court flickered out. I was already miserable at the prospect of not making it, the 1/2 hour ride of failure back home. We ran.

The doors were still open. As I crossed them, I yelled to the first lanyard-wearing, black-shirted person in sight. Please, I need a power supply. Oh, please, if you only knew the hour of torture I’ve put myself through at the prospect of not having one. For all that is shiny, don’t turn me away.

She motioned for another guy to help me, quickly. He looked towards one corner of my MacBook and fluidly grabbed a small box from a shelf while walking towards me.

“This isn’t the one that came with the computer, right?”

“Actually, ye…”

He repeated himself sternly. He was my age, and obviously much more aware of the world.

“This is one you purchased separately, right?”

I was looking down, but Derrick later informed me that the kid was winking so much that Derrick thought for a moment he had Tourette’s. “Yes?”

He walked to the counter. I pulled out my checkbook, began writing “Apple.” Power supplies were $79. I researched earlier. The kid noticed my open wallet.

“Why are you writing a check?”

“I was just…”

“Why are you writing a check?”

“…”

He was simultaneously removing a shiny, white power cord while stuffing my graying, distorted cable in. Derrick nudged me. I put my wallet away.

“Thank you,” I said, still confused. “What’s your name?”

I thought he said Princess. Derrick heard Francis.

He gave me my receipt. “Factory error.”

It must have all happened within a 2-minute time frame. I was in a blur for half of the ride home.

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I gave in my two weeks notice at the restaurant a couple days ago. I’ve only been working there since December, but since I’m vain and unable to dedicate myself to customer satisfaction at a restaurant where I’m forced to wear a tie and pinstripes, where the women run around with martini glasses and high eyebrows, I decided my talents would be better utilized elsewhere.

As a cleansing of my bitterness, here’s some basic, person-to-person etiquette to keep in mind when dealing with your server:

• “This food is terrible. What’s the deal?” Oh, I don’t know, I must’ve overcooked it. Let me run back to the kitchen and try again, and I’ll keep that in mind when I cook your next course.
• Feel free to unwind for an hour after we close. I don’t need to be anywhere.
• Also, don’t mind those thirty customers lining up at the door. Linger for another 45 minutes. They’re here to paint. By the way, I make $2.45 hourly.
• Anything spit, sneezed, or otherwise expelled from your or your child’s body and left on the table has to eventually be dealt with by an uninvolved party. Revoltingly.
• You just bought a $60 steak and a $200 bottle of wine. On a weeknight. You can afford %15! You can!
• “Why isn’t lasagna on the menu?!” The lasagna fairy ran out of magic.
• “This check is pretty steep.” Yeah, I change the prices after you look at the menu for kicks.
• I’m polite enough to not interrupt your conversation. But please, if I’ve been standing at your table side for ten minutes, for the love of God, acknowledge me.

And just to be fair, for current and future servers:

• Richer does not usually equal a higher tip. It’s usually those customers who also work for tips that tip well.
• That one guy sitting alone today could be coming back with five friends tomorrow.
• Counting your tip in view of your customer is extremely awkward.
• Under most circumstances, be nice. Or switch to retail. They need the help.
• I still don’t know what osso bucco is. You’re not smarter than me because you do.

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