Clearwire: Not So Clear

Dear Clearwire,

You suck.
I wish I could say it, or scream it, to your stupid black modem-face however your connection is so awful that I am forced to write this from work. What’s that you say? Yes, I should be focused on updating my current Excel spreadsheet and continue to play personal travel agent to myself as I layout my upcoming work-related travel. Unfortunately I have been reduced to only checking my e-mail/blogging/facebook chatting while at work because my computer is completely useless at home no thanks to your “new and improved” Clear service.
No matter how many times I move you, or how far I distance you from my router, you still continue to suck. All. The. Time.
I hate you.
I loathe you so much in fact I am seriously considering Comcast. After wasting yet another hour of my time LiveChat-ing with one of your useless P.O.S. customer service people, I have lost all hope. As if I don’t have other things to be doing…like searching for new shoes on or watching 3 consecutive hours of Law and Order (thank you USA for feeding my addiction, leaving me sleep-deprived and late to work, I really do love you for it.)
Luckily for you the Comcast LiveChat operator was just as helpless, useless and ding-batty as your customer service. She bought you an extra few days before I pull your plug. And thanks to month-to-month contracts and no right-to-life laws for ISPs, your plug will be pulled.
So enjoy what weak and little bandwidth you have left, because it will be your last. Something tells me you have exhausted even that, making you more dysfunctional than when I left you this morning. Had there been a massive snow storm, similar to that of 2008 during which I was forced to “work” from home, I would most certainly already have dropped you 19 floors to your eminent death.
Again, I hate you.
Best of Luck in 2010 you crappy waste of Internet.

This is inedible.

I have to tell you about this woman that came into Sostanza last night. I can only hope that I am NOT that crabby when I get to be her age.

Apparently she is a regular, which means nothing to me since I only work on Mondays and I consider “regulars” to be the customers that come in, smile at me and give me a hug. Otherwise, they don’t count. Parkies can be too high and mighty sometimes, therefore I get to use my discretion as to who gets the title role of “regular.”
My first encounter with her was Friday, during a shift I picked up from Sean. I was in the weeds with a full section of tables that were all within minutes of each other. This is my general substitution for cardio and hot yoga, since the combination of stairs and heat are the equivalent to a work out. The new busser, who is hands down the most annoying person I have ever met in my life, decided it was acceptable to take her order and relay it to me. Don’t worry. I’ll get to tearing him apart later.
Anyways, she came in again last night. And in my best effort to pay attention to her, strain my hearing as to not have to ask her to repeat herself and do everything with a non-stressed smile – she was still completely rude to me. I could use a slew of swear words including but not limited to: wench, asshat and b*t%@ but instead I’ll chalk this one up to old age. I would like to think that anyone over the age of 75 is like my Grandma and the friendliest person alive. Turns out, not so much. Even after comping her a dessert, which she also hated, and discounting her bill she still didn’t tip me yet proceeded to pretend like I had fixed her life’s problems.
What a grinch.
Oh, and also, those are TENTACLES not fish tails and calamari is supposed to taste like that. My other 15 customers who ordered the EXACT same thing as you had no problem with it, therefore you are wrong. Next time you send me into the battle field that is our kitchen telling me something in inedible, please remember to give me an accurate description of why your food tastes like shit, otherwise the next thing served on your plate will my fingers. And I guarantee you the chef will not be as friendly as me.

I like rabbits!

Ah yes, the Christmas break. The last day before break is still the hardest day to get through. Unless you are like me: a total slacker who can manage to waste away an entire day on GChat and Facebook…in which case the time ticks by as slowly as ever. Regardless, my brain is already on vacation time. Five days without work…Margot just left and asked if I would be checking the voicemail messages tomorrow.

My answer: no.
I’m on vacation bitches.
Most of you know what is going on in my dating life, but for those of you that need a little update, here you go. Nikki recently introduced me to a nice guy, and verbally slapped me for not recognizing a “good” guy when he is right in front of me. Getting my ish together and my focus on track, I decided she was right and jumped in head first.
This did not go as planned. And you would not believe how ridiculously awkward I am. I am like the Chandler in your world of Friends. I make jokes to cut tension, avoid eye contact when uncomfortable and God knows I blush with the best of them. I would like to think that I never was an awkward person…however recent situations are starting to make me wonder.
Let’s take last Sunday for example. After what seemed like a fun ‘date’ of me bouncing off the walls with holiday spirit and coffee to mask the severe hangover that I had been fighting off, I was slapped in the face with reality. Now, I don’t think the conversation that followed was out of the blue, nor do I think it was unwarranted. That being said, I felt about as tall as my heels…without me in them, which is roughly 3 inches for those of you a little behind on the shoe-know-all. I’m not sure it’s possible to come out of a “casual dating” conversation on-top, unless of course you tear off all his clothes and literally straddle said recipient. I did not opt for the latter – though maybe I would have felt less awkward had I – and was left feeling weird and unsure for the rest of the night.
I did wake up with a massive sinus infection the next morning, but I don’t think that it was at all related to Sunday’s conversation.
Perhaps I am being too vague for some of you. You might just have to deal with it this time, even though I am only connected to the conversing-party in a casual type way, I still respect his privacy.
This brings me to the next boy: a former co-worker. One I had a crush on for just about as long as we worked together, including the time he had girlfriend. I seem to enjoy the boys that I can banter with, maybe it’s because I don’t have to take them too seriously. Just like my relationships. Anyways, one awkward (I am going to need to find a new word) happy hour and several GChats later I found myself greeting him on a sidewalk in Greenlake mid-ugle sweater party. Hey, it’s the holidays people. And guess what? We totally made out. Did NOT see that coming. I am also starting to believe that I might be more naive than I either care to admit or am aware of…more than likely it’s the latter.
So I leave with with the following YouTube video that is one of my all time favorites. Seriously.

Yeah, I’m broke – but where’s my bar tab?

Do you ever do that thing where you know you should check your bank balance but you don’t want to because you know the result will be depressing? I certainly do. And being sans roommate now, it seems that writing a large, unavoidable rent check everything month is not only a reminder of how costly it is to be an adult, but also how annoying it is when I don’t plan ahead.

The good news is we are planning a trip to Vegas in March. And I have super cute new jeans that I got on sale…oh, and my rent was due. I should probably take care of that. Eff.

Mmm…feelings. Yum.

Not even kidding, I actually have been eating like crap the past two days. And I am pretty sure I am drinking so much coffee that I’m one Venti from an ulcer. Enough about my beverage intake, and back to my eating habits. Firstly, I just finished dinner at 10:35pm on a Thursday. I somehow managed to make it out for yet another “quick” shopping trip pre-dinner, thanks to an 8 oz. Americano. There I go again, with the coffee. 

Moving on, I don’t know if I have literally been eating my feelings. I certainly haven’t been eating like someone who wants to lose 12lbs, I can tell you that much. I did realize today though, upon seeing a book cover, that the concept of eating ones feelings is a horrible paradox. Eating everything that I see while wondering if or when my phone is going to ring probably won’t make my phone ring any faster. Similar to the age old adage “a watched pot never boils,” a stuffed stomach has no relationship to which cellphone tower sends what signal if a signal has never been sent.

My next point, the weight gain associated with said eaten feelings probably won’t be pretty. I’m not sure about you, but I know that I have the ability to eat a large amount of food in a short period of time. That being said, depending on the period of time in which my, or your, phone has not rang, a significant amount of actual gain in poundage can occur. As if we didn’t have enough insecurities prior to whatever has caused this porkalicious behavior. 

Bringing this train to it’s final stop, if the phone doesn’t ring for, let’s say, a month and you, or me, think about it everyday you could gain like…FIVE POUNDS. And if it’s the holiday season, I think statistically speaking that number doubles. I wasn’t a math major, so I am not sure how accurate that really is but that isn’t the point. Now that we have gained all that weight, I bet whoever wasn’t calling us before is going to be thrilled that we can’t fit into our pants anymore. I’m just saying. 

Ok, maybe that was a little extreme. I am simply suggesting that the literal eaten feeling really isn’t going to help anyone except your butcher…and possibly Weight Watchers. 

The good news for you is, caffeine is an appetite suppressant.  And there is a Starbucks around the corner. Also, remember while your phone isn’t ring, dinging or chiming that he isn’t worth 5lbs — that’s 10lbs November through December.