Musings
--I could totally become one of those people on the beach in the early morning with little plastic bags full of shells. I'm a total shell whore. If it is big, I want it. I was obsessed with shells as a child and the obsession has not abated. However, I'm really not certain what those people are looking for. Or what they do with them. They get bags of shells every day. Do they sell them? Do they keep them? Do they enbed the shells into a wall of their home? Is it just the thrill of the hunt? Kinda like dating? Who knows...
--Why do people always say hello to each other on the beach? People who wouldn't give the time of day to anyone else in daily life? People who fail to hold the door open for other people still manage a smile and a "good morning" when walking along the beach. Why can't you take that attitude and transfer it to the rest of your life? What does it hurt to say "please" and "thank you" and "good morning" to others? Of course, I'm at the point where I'm going to start going up to people and ask them what kind of shells they're looking for, so maybe I'm not a good person to emulate...
--Still have not spoken to a soul who isn't a waiter or a bartender. Other than the lesbian who wanted to know if our seafood fritters were crab cakes or hush puppies. Wow. I did kinda yell at a table of about eight real estate agents who couldn't figure out how New England ended up with a first down after the Chargers missed the field goal Sunday. Only about how you would think a bunch of SEC football experts would know more about football than a lowly Big Ten fan and all, but who the hell am I, anyway? Right? RIGHT?! Sorry. I'm suffering from a bit of a Big Ten crisis of self-confidence. I also told a lady to shut the hell up when she wanted the bartender to change the channel to the news with 1:14 left in the fourth quarter. Also, I thought about talking to a guy of indeterminate age (approximately 22) who was eating dinner with his friend, the friend's dad and the obvious step-monster. The guy made a point of checking out my legs each time he walked by our table, which was flattering in a rather disturbing way. It would have been better if I'd actually been assured he was over 21, but everyone at the table was drinking ice water. Freaks. Thankfully, we left before I embarrassed myself by asking him if he wanted work as a cabana boy.
--Every single night here has been an adventure. We spent the first night searching for a salad. You wouldn't think a salad would be that hard to find. Four places. We went to four different places looking for a salad and a glass of wine. Amazing. I then proceeded to insult the woman at the table next to us by pointing out the fact that she was wearing her phone actually on her belt and wasn't that a bit gauche? She began shooting us the eye at that point, then talking animatedly to her dinner partner, who she'd been ignoring until that point. The second night we spent looking for a particular restaurant, whose menu we found in the condo and had spent the afternoon drooling over. In leaving the condo, we made the fateful choice of turning right rather than left, which took us the exact opposite direction of where we needed to go, of course. Rather than dinner, we got a 25 minute trip down the beach, a stop at a 7-11 to check the phone book and a visit to the liquor store/biker bar to buy beer. We totally could've gotten dates there. We were eventually forced to go back home, where we, you know, got the address off the menu. We're so smart. The remainder of the trip has simply been the search for the perfect margarita. Always an adventure.
--I forgot how big the bugs are here.
--Still obsessed with this dream I had the other night. It involved me trying to do a flip turn on a slant-faced pool and smashing my lip. Odd.
--When considering the perfect guy, or girl for that matter, how does that ideal get formed, do you think? I used to pine after tall men with dark hair and big blue eyes. I've dated exactly one of those, ever. Now I find a completely different type of guy attractive. Except for the tall part. And what is it about life that forms those preferences? And what about life changes those preferences?
--Why are Jessica Simpson's eyes so far apart?
--Who knew mullets were still a valid hair-style choice? I didn't, until I got here.
--Why do people always say hello to each other on the beach? People who wouldn't give the time of day to anyone else in daily life? People who fail to hold the door open for other people still manage a smile and a "good morning" when walking along the beach. Why can't you take that attitude and transfer it to the rest of your life? What does it hurt to say "please" and "thank you" and "good morning" to others? Of course, I'm at the point where I'm going to start going up to people and ask them what kind of shells they're looking for, so maybe I'm not a good person to emulate...
--Still have not spoken to a soul who isn't a waiter or a bartender. Other than the lesbian who wanted to know if our seafood fritters were crab cakes or hush puppies. Wow. I did kinda yell at a table of about eight real estate agents who couldn't figure out how New England ended up with a first down after the Chargers missed the field goal Sunday. Only about how you would think a bunch of SEC football experts would know more about football than a lowly Big Ten fan and all, but who the hell am I, anyway? Right? RIGHT?! Sorry. I'm suffering from a bit of a Big Ten crisis of self-confidence. I also told a lady to shut the hell up when she wanted the bartender to change the channel to the news with 1:14 left in the fourth quarter. Also, I thought about talking to a guy of indeterminate age (approximately 22) who was eating dinner with his friend, the friend's dad and the obvious step-monster. The guy made a point of checking out my legs each time he walked by our table, which was flattering in a rather disturbing way. It would have been better if I'd actually been assured he was over 21, but everyone at the table was drinking ice water. Freaks. Thankfully, we left before I embarrassed myself by asking him if he wanted work as a cabana boy.
--Every single night here has been an adventure. We spent the first night searching for a salad. You wouldn't think a salad would be that hard to find. Four places. We went to four different places looking for a salad and a glass of wine. Amazing. I then proceeded to insult the woman at the table next to us by pointing out the fact that she was wearing her phone actually on her belt and wasn't that a bit gauche? She began shooting us the eye at that point, then talking animatedly to her dinner partner, who she'd been ignoring until that point. The second night we spent looking for a particular restaurant, whose menu we found in the condo and had spent the afternoon drooling over. In leaving the condo, we made the fateful choice of turning right rather than left, which took us the exact opposite direction of where we needed to go, of course. Rather than dinner, we got a 25 minute trip down the beach, a stop at a 7-11 to check the phone book and a visit to the liquor store/biker bar to buy beer. We totally could've gotten dates there. We were eventually forced to go back home, where we, you know, got the address off the menu. We're so smart. The remainder of the trip has simply been the search for the perfect margarita. Always an adventure.
--I forgot how big the bugs are here.
--Still obsessed with this dream I had the other night. It involved me trying to do a flip turn on a slant-faced pool and smashing my lip. Odd.
--When considering the perfect guy, or girl for that matter, how does that ideal get formed, do you think? I used to pine after tall men with dark hair and big blue eyes. I've dated exactly one of those, ever. Now I find a completely different type of guy attractive. Except for the tall part. And what is it about life that forms those preferences? And what about life changes those preferences?
--Why are Jessica Simpson's eyes so far apart?
--Who knew mullets were still a valid hair-style choice? I didn't, until I got here.
posted by Miss Head at
6:04 AM
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