Stop calling me. We don't want your truck. You could have been more helpful on your website, and I wouldn't have abandoned the page. We chose Budget, thanks, because it was easy to reserve online and cheaper. This tactic of calling people later to negotiate a better price than what your online service initially showed is, frankly, bullshit. Give people the price they want up front. Don't play this silly phone game with me.
And no, I'm not calling you back.
Budget Rulez, Penske Droolz,
I decided to not dress up as the Log Lady for Halloween this year. Not because I didn't want to, mind you, but I have no where to wear it and no time to make it happen. I'm up to my eyeballs in boxes. It'll be all I can do to buy some candy for the trickin' treaters.
I really love my Tumblr log. I just wanted to say it again. I like that you can one-click other people's Flickr photos; instantly added to the log. It is just so easy to stream all my streams in one attractive place.
I get smitten often, but I think this one might stick.
UPDATE: Subscribe to my Tumblr feed, fools.
First and foremost, I'm hungover and can no longer function on four and a half hours sleep like I once could in my twenties. I made a dire decision to mix a super caffeinated beverage with my vodka in order to keep the party going, and today I am suffering the consequences of my stupidity. I am rectifying the situation with a caffeinated beverage and water. Lots and lots of water.
I decided to reserve the back room at La Paz after a couple of reader recommendations regarding the size of the room and the service. I wanted to go to a place where people could mingle, eat from the menu if they wanted and get drinks in a reasonable amount of time. Perhaps La Paz is a place where all those things happen simultaneously, but it was not that place last night. I arrived right at 6, where Ivy and Jon were waiting, to learn they'd forgotten about our party. Oops! We had to wait a while for them to set it up, but once we were finally let into the room I was pleased to see it was set up nicely with tables formed into a U-shape that allowed for comfortable eating and drinking, but also conversation. I wasn't pleased to learn we only had one server. For, like, 35 people.
I'm not really sure if our server knew he was going to be waiting on a party that large, alone, but I'm leaning toward "didn't." He was just so overwhelmed with the group that he pretty much gave up. He took people's orders, but only some of them. Requests for drinks long went unfilled. I had to ask three times for a margarita. The Boyfriend went to the bar, where there were two bartenders and no customers, and ordered drinks for us. I hate that everyone had to spend time talking about the crappy service, but it was pretty bad. It wasn't detrimental to the evening, but it was borderline.
It was especially stunning when it was time to settle up. He basically just yelled at the room to come tell him what they had so he could tell them much they owed. We ordered: two margaritas, 2 Dos Perros, queso for the table. My receipt read: 2 rocks, 1 margarita - $31.41. The server then tried to explain to me the disparity of charges. He told me, his mouth seemingly full of marbles (pretty sure brah was wasted), "I pretty much saved you $17. See, I went into the kitchen to get queso--and they would just give it to me...and I didn't put it on there, I just didn't. So, see I'm saving you about $14." My transcription of the conversation is about 10 times more coherent that what actually came out of this guy's mouth. He was mumbling, stammering and using incomplete sentences. I told him, "I have no idea what you are trying to say. I can barely understand you," then signed the bill. See, there was a $25 fee for reserving that room, but I wasn't about to pay it. Not since it was obvious that this guy was scamming me and probably the restaurant. I used to work in that field. I know the tricks. Dude was pocketing so much cash by presenting the same ticket to multiple people. All I wanted was out of that place by that time, and couldn't care less what kind of thieving he was up to. He'll get busted eventually.
I'd like to apologize to my kind and generous guests for any unpleasantness as a result of the party location. You all were so awesome to come out and bring your wonderful children (to whom I taught the Trick or Treat, Smell my Feet song). And you brought presents! Which was totally unexpected, but highly appreciated. They were so thoughtful and well-selected. Chris gave me a black and white photo of Broadway in downtown Nashville that he took himself in an amazing frame. Smiley gave me a Stuff To Do in San Francisco and Northern California book that is fat and dense, and I can't wait to start at the beginning and get to exploring. Ivy asked people to pitch in, and they gave us a Target gift card that is going to come in so handy when we are starting over buying things like ketchup and mayo and shower curtains and maybe new linens. Thank you all so much; it is beyond awesome that you did that. Jon gave me a gorgeous Buddha statue that will get a prominent sitting place at the new house. I love it.
People who made time to stop by on a Sunday night:
After La Paz, Kate, Karsten, Chris, The Boyfriend, Jon, Lesley and Mrs. Jag went to Beyond the Edge at 5 Points where I consumed said super caffeinated beverages mixed with vodka. The service there was far superior. We watched the Red Sox win the World Series and jammed out to super loud jukebox favorites like G 'n' R, Poison and the High School Musical soundtrack. Mrs. Jag and The Boyfriend fell in love over talk of their admiration for Grease 2, though she grew less enamored after he dissed her beloved CSI. They will reunite once again this Thursday where Mrs. Jag will impress him with her passion for "The Office."
After some curly fries and one too many rounds, I lumbered home, where it was after midnight. It was no longer my birthday then. I was just 30. Which, it turns out ain't so bad:
It doesn’t happen right away, but sometime very soon in your early thirties, you’re going to learn what it was like for boys to be in high school. Everyone seems plausibly fuckable and you’ll spend a great deal of time distracted by wondering how soon it will be until you can get laid again. You’ll wonder if it would be rude to go into the bathroom at work and masturbate. You’ll start looking around the grocery store like vegetarian isn’t just a food preference.
The other thing I love about you, and it must have sucked, but I really appreciate your willingness to be human online–to be snarky when called for, to get pissed, to make mistakes, and to be willing to acknowledge them and live with the consequences. There’s a really ferocious bravery in that, especially as a woman, especially as a person others were constantly gunning for, and I find it truly inspiring.
I will miss you, but I’m so proud and honored that I know you and that I’ll get to see you do this thing and the next and the next.
UPDATE #2: Haha, BusyMom's take on the Waiter Extraordinaire is much better than mine:
A good time was had by all, but, no one seemed to have as much fun as Jeff Spicoli, our waiter.
Because, well, you know, if you serve, oh, say 85% of the food orders, and one of the Diet Coke orders, that's pretty good. It's even a "B" in some places.