Poledancers ain't got nuthin' on Bellydancers
Hello dear readers . . . is it time for an update? Oh HELL yeah . . . lemme start the recollection, from the end of finals after Killer dropped me off at the airport.
Learning how to get my tickets, mom bought them online, from the airport . . . abso-fuggin'-lutely fun *shakes his head*. So I wait in line to talk to a person because the personnel I tried to talk to who were walking around did nothing but continue walking . . . ass clowns, all of them. I reach the end of the line only to be told to use the machines to my right, so I mozy on over and try to use the machine. Lawrence tries to help me, but we get nowhere fast when the 13-digit number it asks for is NOT the 12-digit number I have on the print-out itenerary . . . bloody hell. Well, back to waiting in the line that just seems to have doubled since the last time I waited in it. So there was this older lady (I'd say late 30's early 40's) who had the same problem as me, and we were both sick of waiting. After she shows a lack of trust when I say I'll wait for her while she tries using some ID card (credit cards or driver's license supposedly) on the machine she says I should do it. Taking a leap of faith, mainly because I don't want to wait in the damn line, I have her hold my place while I try using my bank card . . . voila!!! I get tickets!!! So, I save her place, as agreed, while she tries it herself and gets tickets!!! She asks if I'm 21 yet, offers to buy me a drink while we wait for our flight, and I respectfully decline. She settles for Cinnabon while I go up to wait by my terminal and chat with Lawrence while I draw Don Pimp as a cartoon. It looks great, to my reckoning.
The layover in SF took longer than the combined flight time. While running around wasting time I had the good fortune to bump into a "Suit" (totally his fault) who turned all pissy and said, "Watch where you're going." His friends/associates/bosses/other suits basically told him he was wrong and that he should apologize. Something to which I said, "I would like an apology." With a group of suits nodding in agreement with me, I got my apology and went off to find myself a book and clam chowder (in a bread bowl!!! can't get much better). They were the only 2 things in the airport that were reasonably priced; candybars I can buy for <55 cents were going for $1.50 each (gotta love airports). The flight to San Diego was pretty short, and my parents were there to pick me up.
Spring Break, or "Spring Blink" as TC calls it, came and went rather quickly. I didn't do anything utterly spectacular, but I did get hit on by some HS girls. *shakes his head and then shakes his fist angrily* WHY couldn't they have done that when I was IN high-school? *sighs* It was nice to spend time with the family though. Since they moved away visits have become rather few and far between, even when Mom was still working in Merced. I did notice a few things while I was in one of SoCal's malls (where the first HS girl hit on me) . . .
What do women get when they wear a 12" skirt (if even 12" and yes I mean the ass-ruffles/FMS's)? They get paranoia is what they get. *nods* Mmmhmmm, it's true. So I was floating around the local mall and noticed that a number of the girls were wearing them that day. I would constantly see them tugging them up so as to conceal the top portion of their butt then move them back down a bit a few minutes later to conceal the bottom part. I couldn't keep the amused smile inside my head so it was plastered all over my face. Then there were the escalators . . . So there was a girl on the escalator who had her posterior at eye-level. Now come ON, am I supposed to just look away? . . . ok, so I am, but it was RIGHT THERE!!! Of course, her woman-sense must have been tingling (women tend to know when guys are looking, no?) and she was constantly turning around to look at me. Eventually I got to looking around instead of straight ahead, but that didn't stop the guy behind me or his buddies *smirks*. Again I quote Lt. Col. Slade, played by Al Pacino, "The day we stop looking is the day we die, HAH!"
In other news I saw another chick-flick that I rather liked, "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days." It was a bit predictable, but it was fun to watch nonetheless . . . because I'm a sucker for that kind of thing. I am also glad to report that I did not find any used tampons or maxipads in "Eastlake" that may cause joggers to slip and hurt themselves. I already miss the warm nights . . . oh well, spring is underway.
The flight back to Davis was uneventful, though I did see the "ticket lady" (mentioned above) in the airport, and she looked at me funny before exclaiming "Last week, right?!" Adam picked me up at the airport after some OTHER HS girl started edging beyond flirtation . . . *sighs* it ended with something like this:
her: "So what high school do you go to?"
me: "High School?"
her: "oh . . ."
me: *awkward silence while thinking, "shit, I was about to ask her what her major was."*
verdict: *skies open up and a hand points at me* Al Jay is cursed . . .
a possible response from the J-Man: *smack* stop being so damn melodramatic
final verdict: Suck it up, you pansy
At Strings they do a funny thing with the waitresses there. I swear they do it just to screw with your head, but each one seems to take her turn servicing your table. They also have some really, REALLY good bread there, even though their salad isn't so great. I learned about what the difference between regular olive oil and virgin olive oil is; the waitress (one of them, I think her name was Kristine/Kristy *shrugs*) was interested in the question and went to go find out about it. It has to do with the processing of the olives. Virgin olive oil is not as processed as the regular stuff, like someone at our table theorized. Of course that's the simple definition, and I could look it up online in more detail. I think it will do for now.
Ahh, then there was the first fencing practice of the new quarter. After hearing rumors that people thought it was an unofficial practice I was a bit surprised that so many folks decided to show up. The rust showed on more than just my sabre *sighs*; I'll have to remedy that before Saturday. Bring it on!!! Melanie and Alysha were running on the machines that night too; it was great talking with them. I haven't done that in a while; I'll have to go find Jacek and Lianne again too. . . we need to get together to do stuff before those two graduate and go away *frowns*. Ah yes, "The Namson" showed up to Thursday's practice; he'll be picking up the blade again *smiles widely*. I missed seeing that guy around.
Friday was great. My communications class was cancelled, which kinda sucked because I was looking forward to speaking with the teacher and/or the TA about switching discussion sections so I could go teach kiddos in Folsom for Simon. I didn't think I looked too shabby for dinner with the fencers at the Moroccan restaurant, but I'm sure Dad would have a bunch to say if he saw me. OK, so the jeans pulled it down a few notches to casual . . . not to mention my beloved, scuffed-up Docs (I love those shoes). We were asked to bring guests, and my guest for the dinner was Holly. *smiles* I finally got to meet Daio Ching's sister, who "cures bruises instead of making them." What came as a huge surprise was when the music at the restaurant got louder, and a bellydancer stepped out from behind the scenes. OK, so as I've been telling just about everyone today, "poledancers have NOTHING on bellydancers." She danced around us while we had a devil of a time trying to stuff bills in her dress. *laughs* One would think that a moving target and finger movement would be right up there with fencers. It was pretty damn difficult with her body gyrating this way and that *insert sly smile here* not that I'm complaining. By the end of the dinner I got Holly to stuff a bill down the bellydancer's dress *smiles* Bad influence? . . . methinks NOT *fixes halo*. What was left of our party retired to Chez TC to watch "The Incredibles" before heading our respective ways.
Today (Sat.) looked to be a great day with the sunshine and clear skies, and after talking about the Summit yesterday I felt the need to go visit it again. There was also Sharon's party to go to. By the time I finished lunch I had sufficient need to go forth and ponder while marching up the path to get to the Summit. So a time of simply enjoying the scenery turned into clearing the mind until the sun started to go down and Davis's lights started to turn on in the distance. At that point I figured it was time to go home. As a minor bonus I found that I got rather great reception at the summit, none anywhere nearby.
Learning how to get my tickets, mom bought them online, from the airport . . . abso-fuggin'-lutely fun *shakes his head*. So I wait in line to talk to a person because the personnel I tried to talk to who were walking around did nothing but continue walking . . . ass clowns, all of them. I reach the end of the line only to be told to use the machines to my right, so I mozy on over and try to use the machine. Lawrence tries to help me, but we get nowhere fast when the 13-digit number it asks for is NOT the 12-digit number I have on the print-out itenerary . . . bloody hell. Well, back to waiting in the line that just seems to have doubled since the last time I waited in it. So there was this older lady (I'd say late 30's early 40's) who had the same problem as me, and we were both sick of waiting. After she shows a lack of trust when I say I'll wait for her while she tries using some ID card (credit cards or driver's license supposedly) on the machine she says I should do it. Taking a leap of faith, mainly because I don't want to wait in the damn line, I have her hold my place while I try using my bank card . . . voila!!! I get tickets!!! So, I save her place, as agreed, while she tries it herself and gets tickets!!! She asks if I'm 21 yet, offers to buy me a drink while we wait for our flight, and I respectfully decline. She settles for Cinnabon while I go up to wait by my terminal and chat with Lawrence while I draw Don Pimp as a cartoon. It looks great, to my reckoning.
The layover in SF took longer than the combined flight time. While running around wasting time I had the good fortune to bump into a "Suit" (totally his fault) who turned all pissy and said, "Watch where you're going." His friends/associates/bosses/other suits basically told him he was wrong and that he should apologize. Something to which I said, "I would like an apology." With a group of suits nodding in agreement with me, I got my apology and went off to find myself a book and clam chowder (in a bread bowl!!! can't get much better). They were the only 2 things in the airport that were reasonably priced; candybars I can buy for <55 cents were going for $1.50 each (gotta love airports). The flight to San Diego was pretty short, and my parents were there to pick me up.
Spring Break, or "Spring Blink" as TC calls it, came and went rather quickly. I didn't do anything utterly spectacular, but I did get hit on by some HS girls. *shakes his head and then shakes his fist angrily* WHY couldn't they have done that when I was IN high-school? *sighs* It was nice to spend time with the family though. Since they moved away visits have become rather few and far between, even when Mom was still working in Merced. I did notice a few things while I was in one of SoCal's malls (where the first HS girl hit on me) . . .
What do women get when they wear a 12" skirt (if even 12" and yes I mean the ass-ruffles/FMS's)? They get paranoia is what they get. *nods* Mmmhmmm, it's true. So I was floating around the local mall and noticed that a number of the girls were wearing them that day. I would constantly see them tugging them up so as to conceal the top portion of their butt then move them back down a bit a few minutes later to conceal the bottom part. I couldn't keep the amused smile inside my head so it was plastered all over my face. Then there were the escalators . . . So there was a girl on the escalator who had her posterior at eye-level. Now come ON, am I supposed to just look away? . . . ok, so I am, but it was RIGHT THERE!!! Of course, her woman-sense must have been tingling (women tend to know when guys are looking, no?) and she was constantly turning around to look at me. Eventually I got to looking around instead of straight ahead, but that didn't stop the guy behind me or his buddies *smirks*. Again I quote Lt. Col. Slade, played by Al Pacino, "The day we stop looking is the day we die, HAH!"
In other news I saw another chick-flick that I rather liked, "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days." It was a bit predictable, but it was fun to watch nonetheless . . . because I'm a sucker for that kind of thing. I am also glad to report that I did not find any used tampons or maxipads in "Eastlake" that may cause joggers to slip and hurt themselves. I already miss the warm nights . . . oh well, spring is underway.
The flight back to Davis was uneventful, though I did see the "ticket lady" (mentioned above) in the airport, and she looked at me funny before exclaiming "Last week, right?!" Adam picked me up at the airport after some OTHER HS girl started edging beyond flirtation . . . *sighs* it ended with something like this:
her: "So what high school do you go to?"
me: "High School?"
her: "oh . . ."
me: *awkward silence while thinking, "shit, I was about to ask her what her major was."*
verdict: *skies open up and a hand points at me* Al Jay is cursed . . .
a possible response from the J-Man: *smack* stop being so damn melodramatic
final verdict: Suck it up, you pansy
At Strings they do a funny thing with the waitresses there. I swear they do it just to screw with your head, but each one seems to take her turn servicing your table. They also have some really, REALLY good bread there, even though their salad isn't so great. I learned about what the difference between regular olive oil and virgin olive oil is; the waitress (one of them, I think her name was Kristine/Kristy *shrugs*) was interested in the question and went to go find out about it. It has to do with the processing of the olives. Virgin olive oil is not as processed as the regular stuff, like someone at our table theorized. Of course that's the simple definition, and I could look it up online in more detail. I think it will do for now.
Ahh, then there was the first fencing practice of the new quarter. After hearing rumors that people thought it was an unofficial practice I was a bit surprised that so many folks decided to show up. The rust showed on more than just my sabre *sighs*; I'll have to remedy that before Saturday. Bring it on!!! Melanie and Alysha were running on the machines that night too; it was great talking with them. I haven't done that in a while; I'll have to go find Jacek and Lianne again too. . . we need to get together to do stuff before those two graduate and go away *frowns*. Ah yes, "The Namson" showed up to Thursday's practice; he'll be picking up the blade again *smiles widely*. I missed seeing that guy around.
Friday was great. My communications class was cancelled, which kinda sucked because I was looking forward to speaking with the teacher and/or the TA about switching discussion sections so I could go teach kiddos in Folsom for Simon. I didn't think I looked too shabby for dinner with the fencers at the Moroccan restaurant, but I'm sure Dad would have a bunch to say if he saw me. OK, so the jeans pulled it down a few notches to casual . . . not to mention my beloved, scuffed-up Docs (I love those shoes). We were asked to bring guests, and my guest for the dinner was Holly. *smiles* I finally got to meet Daio Ching's sister, who "cures bruises instead of making them." What came as a huge surprise was when the music at the restaurant got louder, and a bellydancer stepped out from behind the scenes. OK, so as I've been telling just about everyone today, "poledancers have NOTHING on bellydancers." She danced around us while we had a devil of a time trying to stuff bills in her dress. *laughs* One would think that a moving target and finger movement would be right up there with fencers. It was pretty damn difficult with her body gyrating this way and that *insert sly smile here* not that I'm complaining. By the end of the dinner I got Holly to stuff a bill down the bellydancer's dress *smiles* Bad influence? . . . methinks NOT *fixes halo*. What was left of our party retired to Chez TC to watch "The Incredibles" before heading our respective ways.
Today (Sat.) looked to be a great day with the sunshine and clear skies, and after talking about the Summit yesterday I felt the need to go visit it again. There was also Sharon's party to go to. By the time I finished lunch I had sufficient need to go forth and ponder while marching up the path to get to the Summit. So a time of simply enjoying the scenery turned into clearing the mind until the sun started to go down and Davis's lights started to turn on in the distance. At that point I figured it was time to go home. As a minor bonus I found that I got rather great reception at the summit, none anywhere nearby.