Juicy!

Dear CPK Server:

I thought about what I wrote on that CPK Bitch back on March 24th.  I have to admit that I was being a little harsh on her - especially over $5.  I was just extremely upset at that moment in time.  It was just that you didn’t seem too apologetic when you gave us the $5, even though you apologized and said that you were embarrassed.  It didn’t seem sincere.  I didn’t meant to be a difficult customer. We just wanted our $5 back. 

Half Pint was correct.  Although I do know of folks who wait on people, I myself have never served.  So, please accept my apology.

Thank you.

The Asian Glow: When an asian person drinks a little bit of alcohol and turns red but is not really drunk.

I get the Asian glow when I have a few sips.  Last night, a few of us went to La Ferria in Inglewood for happy hour.  I ordered a margarita.  Took a few sips and started to blush.  When I finished that, I ordered a Mango flavored Mojito.  The server must have thought my asian glow was a sign of being drunk because the Mojito he brought to me was watered down!  I had to order another drink instead.

I was pulling into a Chevron gas station today to fill up my half empty gas tank.  Recently, it has been a habit of mine to look at the screen to see how much the person before me paid.  Usually, it’s around $60.  This time, I expected to see that amount again. 

Surprisingly, it wasn’t.  The screen showed $105.  Wowsers!  $105!  That’s one large tank of gas that car’s got there!  Either it was a Toyota tundra or it filled up two cars worth!  I guess I shouldn’t be complaining about the $32 I use to fill up half my tank of gas on my little green Honda.

It’s amazing - I still remember how the gas prices used to be $0.99 per gallon, the price of an ice cream scoop, the price of a Burger King Whopper!  $105 can sure buy me an awful lot of Whoppers!

Since the baby, the house has been a mess.  I have heard and have been told many times to let the laundry sit and to not be so obsessive when it comes to keeping a clean house.  But it has finally taken its toll on me.  The mess is catching up.  The baby has only been in my life for 9 months.  By the way, isn’t it strange how the 9 months of pregnancy seems to last forever but the 9 months of life for your little one passes by you before you can blink?

Anyways, not only do I have piles of unfolded laundry on the couch, but I also have piles of unread mail in my office, and a mountain of papers to file, and layers of dust sitting on the furniture and floors.  I haven’t done any spring cleaning as of yet and don’t know if I’ll even get to it this year.

And the stress.  Oh the stress!  Lately, I’ve been working long hours and haven’t had a chance to pick up the baby until 7 or even 8 pm.  That doesn’t sound too late but it actually is when you’re in the office around 5 am.  So I’m quite exhausted by the time it’s time for pick up my little man.  So I don’t sleep until midnight.

It’s hectic with the little one around.  Why do we even bother with kids?  Life is just so much simpler without them in our lives, isn’t it?  I have to admit that sometimes, I do feel trapped.  Trapped because I can’t just pick up  my things and go on a weekend trip.  Trapped because I can’t go to the movies with  my friends on the weekends.  Trapped because I can no longer spend my money on my clothes.  And trapped because my little man is now getting attached to me.

So why all the trouble?

It’s when he jumps up and down happily and claps his hands when he first sees me when I come home from work that makes up for everything that has gone bad for the day.  It’s when he puts his head on my shoulder when I carry him.  It’s when he laughs when I play with him.

Seeing those cute little palms close up in front of his cute, peaceful looking face as I kiss his cheeks goodnight puts a smile on my face every night.  That makes everything worthwhile.

I was away on a business trip and had just returned last night.  It was the first time that I had left my husband alone with the baby for a few days.  He wasn’t exactly alone because my mom baby sat until my husband was off work (around 7 or 8 pm).  But I was still a worry wart. 

I was constantly worrying about the baby.  Did he feed the baby?  Did the baby get his daily servings of fruits/veggies or did my husband take the easy route and give him formula in a bottle? Did he give him the daily vitamin supplements?  Did he rub the rash cream on the baby’s rash?  And what about the clothes - did he change them every night?  Did he this, did he that…blah blah blah…how could I even concentrate on my training that my company paid so much for?  And should I be feeling this way?  It’s not that I don’t trust my husband.  It’s just that…well…it’s just that…I just want to make sure the baby is well taken care of, that’s all.

I couldn’t even sleep the first night because I missed the baby.  I didn’t miss my husband so much.  I missed the baby.  It’s no wonder they say that husbands get a tad jealous when there’s a baby in the house.

After being away for what seemed like an eternity (ok, 3 days only), I was really afraid that the baby wouldn’t remember my face anymore!  Before I had left, he would always want me to hold him.  Even when his father holds his arms out to carry him, the baby wouldn’t want to go to him.  He’d turn back and put his arms around me, not wanting to go to daddy. 

It would break my heart if turned his back on me not wanting me to hold him after 3 days of being away.

But when I returned last night, his eyes lit up and he laughed as he clapped his hands when he saw my face.

I was so delighted.

Do you have a restaurant that you go to just because you are in love with the waiter or waitress? I’m sure everyone has a restaurant in mind. Then, what about the waiter that sucks ass? I know I’ve experienced a few bad waits. Today’s experience, however, pissed me off.

I love…no, loved CPK, California Pizza Kitchen. Love their pizzas. Love their salads. Loved their waiters/waitresses. Except today, this chick - she must be and POOR - made me not to ever want to order a Tomato and Basil pizza ever again.

After we finished our lunch, we asked for the check. Our bill came out to be $28.75. My colleague gave her a $50 bill. Our change: $16.25. I don’t know about you, but if you do the math, $28.75 plus $15.25 DOES NOT add up to $50.

At first, we gave her the benefit of the doubt and said she miscalculated. There is no way she would have / could have cheated us. But two things that she did erased our “benefit of the doubt.”

When we called her over to kindly tell her that we received an incorrect amount for our change, she (1) apologized immediately and said she felt embarrassed. Then she (2) reached into her apron pocket, pulled out her stack of bills - which was obviously her stack of tips for the day - and handed my colleague a $5 bill.

Now, if it really was an honest mistake, why didn’t she stop to think about what she did and verify with herself that it was in fact an error on her? Also, the more perplexing question, shouldn’t she be getting that $5 from the cash register instead of her tip apron??

I think she was trying to steal from CPK. I think she meant to shortchange us. I think she thinks we wouldn’t count our change. I think she’s a bitch for doing that.

And if you are her reading this, Hey, it’s ok. I forgive you.

Last night, a group of us (9 adults total) went to the Boiling Crab for dinner.  Everyone ordered a beer except for me.  After a few “sissy” remarks, I decided to succumb to the peer pressure and ordered myself a Bud Light.  I normally don’t drink beer.  But last night, I did.

After drinking half the bottle, I looked around the room.  My eyes followed this 1 or 2 year old little girl walking around.  It was cute because, like all children her age, it looked like she was walking as if she had two left feet, a little goofy footed.

Being a parent myself, I smiled and grabbed my half full beer bottle.  Suddenly, while everyone at the table was laughing a joke one of the guys told, I started to think about my childhood days.  My junior high days in particular.  

There were a lot of wannabe gangs back then.  I remember specifically this group of girls that thoug ht highly of themselves and wore lots of makeup and had nice clothes.  Where they got their clothes from, beats the heck out of me (I did find out how they got their clothes two years later, however).  I lost a few friends to them. 

I recall one of the girls who was my good friend in the 7th grade who decided to be a member of this girly “gang.”  She kept telling me to join so we can both be pretty and popular.  After many attempts to get me to join, she decided that I wasn’t cool enough to be her friend.

Fitting in wasn’t my concern.  My self esteem was high enough to make new friends.  Besides, seeing the change in her and watching her get into fist fights was enough to turn my back on her friendship.  I certainly did not want to go home with a broken nose.  And I definitely did not want a bamboo whipping from my mom (I’ll explain the bamboo whipping some other time). 

So be it.  I became friends with the “nerdier” kind.  But I think my life turned out OK.  Last I heard, that girl was pregnant at age 16 and the father of that baby was in juvi.   I’m not saying that all “junior high gangsters” turned out that way.  I just wonder how my life would have turned out if I had followed that path. 

There was a lot of peer pressure back then.  It seems as if Junior High is the most fragile stage in a teen’s life.  The peer pressure may not be a big deal at first.  As a matter of fact, you may think it is harmless - like that bottle of beer I ordered last night.  But sometimes, all it takes is a little bit of pressure to make big changes in your child.  That small decision that my friend in Junior High changed her life indefinitely.  And really hope that the cute goofy footed little girl at the Boiling Crab isn’t going to be like my Junior High friend.

This is a story told my colleague today.  It is reprinted here with her permission.

“So do you want to try anal sex?” asked my hubby.

“Hell no.  That’s gross, you sick bastard.”

Disguisting and perverted.  He has never asked before, but for some odd reason, he wanted to try anal sex this past weekend. 

One hour later, he asks again.  “How about now?”

“No.”

I was starting to get annoyed.  “Let’s have anal sex.”  “No.” 

I swear, I said “No” a dozen times that weekend.  He was starting to piss me off halfway through the day.  I don’t know if he asked me a dozen times because he really wanted to try it, or if he was starting to find it entertaining that I was getting more and more upset everytime he asked.  Perhaps it could be both.  But I wouldn’t know becuase I didn’t talk to him the entire weekend.

“C’mon.  Let’s have anal sex now.”

“NO!”  I was furious now.  Call me crazy, but I called my mom and told her what happened.  I know, I know.  Who in the world is crazy enough to tell her mom that her husband wants to have anal sex, right? 

I’m glad I did though because after I took her advice, my poor perverted husband stopped asking me.

“The next time he asks you Honey, just tell him that you think he might be questioning his homosexuality because anal sex is usually associated with homosexuals.”

Now mind you - my mother is 80 years old.  Can you believe that came out of an 80 year woman’s mouth?  This woman sure has got some experience in her life!

Oh!  And my  husband didn’t get any this weekend.  Go figure.

Thanks for the nice lunch break E!  Definately got my mind off the stress at work!

My husband and I decided to hold a get together this past Saturday night.  Everyone seemed to have had good time.  Lots of people, lots of laughter, lots of wine, lots of food, and lots of chips.  No, not tortilla chips.  I’m talking about poker chips. 

It was our first poker night since I gave birth to our little man - Juicy Fruit.  We held a few of them in our pre-baby days.  So it seems like a long time since we had a party of any kind.  But I think it went rather well.  Everyone really did seem to have had a lot of fun.   Well, everyone except Juicy Fruit. 

Every time the group jumps up and screams because the river card gave someone a nice flush, Juicy Fruit would jump himself.  But he didn’t laugh like everyone else.  Rather, he cried.  The unfamiliar faces and the sudden burst of noise scares him.  I would have to carry him into his nursery to calm him down.

By 9 pm, he was tired.  I tried to put him to sleep in his crib, but he simply would not fall asleep.  Usually, he’s ok if left alone in his crib if he has his pacifier in his mouth.  But Saturday night, he wouldn’t even let me leave the room.  He was scared.  Can he really be a scaredy cat at 7 months?

I had to hold him in my arms and rock him to bed that night.  He would suddenly wake up at the sound of everyone’s screams in the living room, but would fall right back asleep as soon as he knew I was still holding him. 

It wasn’t until around midnight did he finally fall into a deep sleep.  By then, it was too late for me to enjoy the party.  The guests were starting to leave.  I guess that’s why Juicy Fruit was finally able to sleep.  The noise level came down dramatically.  No more sudden screams. 

Perhaps having a poker night wasn’t that great of an idea after all.  Not with Juicy Fruit around anyway.  Maybe I can try Mafia night next time instead.  At least that will be constant screaming instead of the sudden “Oh’s” and “Ah’s” from poker.

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