Alright, gentlemen, start lining up to the right, 'cuz I'm AVAILABLE!
Today was a shining example of what kind of sweet catch I truly am. It all started when I called my friendly IT guy to set up my blackberry with the company network. After wrestling (or wrastlin', as we like to say in my homeland) with Phonies, I was feeling pretty confident about the final phase of my set-up. What could possibly go wrong? If you're thinking "everything", then you are close to right. I think I may be a cell phone foster parent because I may be sending this puppy back to the shelter for adoption.
So, IT guy and I chatted (and I definitely need to bake him some cookies now), and we started the set-up process. Of course, being in my house there is no signal (as previously discussed), so I had to wander outside (which is now where I will hold all of my important phone conversations,so for anyone that might want to call me, be aware that the world is my stage--also be aware that I may be sending my phone to IT guy, so he'll be answering my phone for a few days). I walked about five blocks away until I found a full signal, then I stood in the middle of the sidewalk, facing the sun for 45 minutes. I held my phone an arm's length away from me (because if it got closer, the signal was lost). IT guy and I tried to make it work, but alas, it didn't. The whole time I stood there, people passed me giving me odd looks. I also noticed someone staring at me from their window. They probably thought I was casing the joint. Little do they know, I'm just an idiot with a piece of technology that I'll never fully master.
After an uncomfortably warm 45 minutes (because I was wearing a wool sweater and it was 65 degrees outside), I was starving. Standing in one place with your arm outstretched is hard work. Did I mention I was halfway up a hill? Yeah. Because my belly was doing the talking, I went to the first available restaurant (luckily it was located one storefront ahead of the terrible taqueria, otherwise we all know what would have happened--nothing but regret).
My hostess seated me outside at a table that was next to the window. A group of people were sitting inside the restaurant on the other side of the window. If the window weren't there, I'd be dining with them. Knowing that we were far too close for comfort, I felt the pressure to be on my best behavior. That means no excessive nose-blowing.
Everything was going smoothly in the beginning. I selected my meal, I read the paper, I didn't clean out my ears. I was an upstanding citizen. Hell, I'd want to dine with me. Then, my iced tea came. What could go wrong with that? Well, let me tell you. The waiter (who is a delightful bear that loves to call me sweetie and always seems genuinely pleased to see me) put an enormous lemon slice in my tea that was conveniently cut down the middle for my squeezing pleasure. Unfortunately, it was almost completely sliced, so when I squeezed it, half of it flew out of my hand and hit the window. Had the window not been there, it would have hit the guy sitting caddy-cornered across from me in the face. Nice.
I laughed that one off, and as far as I could tell, the window diners (who appeared to be having a business meeting) didn't notice (despite the fact that one of them barely escaped peril). Still confident that I could pull off civilized, I continued reading the paper until my sandwich arrived. Being famished, I knew I risked shoving too much in my mouth all at once. Some people don't outgrow bad behavior, okay? I really did my best to be a lady, but the universe was not on my side today (which says to me that I missed my window of opportunity to buy a lottery ticket).
I bit into my sandwich, and discovered that I'd gotten some gross gristle/bony/hard piece in my mouth, and I had no choice but to spit it out. And here's where it gets complicated. Had I been banished to a corner, where most restaurants like to seat solo diners, I could have gotten away with it. But being that I was inches away from a business meeting that I couldn't hear, I was in a bind. I tried to politely put my napkin to my mouth and spit it out. Unfortunately, there is no graceful way to make that exit. I did the best I could, but I know it was gross. I also tried to discard the evidence by shoving the napkin under my plate, but as I looked up, I noticed that everyone on the other side of the table was looking at me. CAUGHT!
I can't take myself anywhere! No wonder I go to the terrible taqueria all the time. They don't care, especially when I order take-out.
So that's the story. Who wants to have dinner?
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