Saturday, June 21, 2008

The Dog Ate My Memo(s)

One of the best things, to me, about being out of school is having no homework. As soon as I leave the office it's like a mini vacation. I run out of the front doors flinging papers as I go and laughing maniacally at my new found freedom. Guitar Hero here I come. Just kidding guitar hero is so last summer. Now it's all about Rock Band. Which, maybe by next summer when THAT'S old news I'll own it too. Anyway whatever. When I get home the night is mine. And I love it. I mean, that's a good three hours to do what I want with. And "what I want" usually consists of considering and then rejecting the idea of cleaning, making healthy food to eat, and/or exercising all whilst I sit in the love sac watching Top Chef or SYTYCD. My nights are grand. And the weekends are even better because now I have time for some sort of made for TV Lifetime movie or a chance to catch up on an entire season of America's Next Top Model. I just think it's a good idea to keep my finger on the pulse of the modeling world. In case I ever want to get into it. I like to have a back-up plan in case the whole law thing doesn't work out.

But I digress. Which, actually, is kind of the point of why I'm sitting here. Procrastinating. Because this weekend - the first since finally graduating from school over a year ago- I have had to take my work home with me. Yes. I have homework. Boo. And, true to form, I am seizing upon any and all opportunities to put off my work and prolong the fun. Hey it worked for 20 or so years, I don't see why I should change now. And by "worked" I mean I graduated so lay off. Of course, all the "fun" of the weekend is slightly tainted by the looming memos I have to write but, hey. If I can get one more nap in before Monday rolls around I'm going to do it. Plus lets be honest. It is over 100 degrees outside. Which is a clear sign that it's too hot to do any work and everyone ought to just meet up at the beach. My place is a ten minute walk away, lets go. ....But someone is going to have to carry me because it's too hot to walk.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Happy Birthday Gumball

I went to Magic Mountain last weekend. To celebrate my friend's 28th year of life. Because where else do you want to go when you turn 28? Disneyland? Well....Maybe. But Disneyland doesn't have that thrill that Magic Mountain does of possibly getting into a gang fight. Nor does Disneyland have a ride that shoots flames past you in 90 degree weather. So, yah. .....I think I make my point.

It was a good day and there were definite highlights: the birthday boy standing in front of one of those mist-making things cooling off his face, and realizing a little too late that there was also a mist nozzle aimed right at his pants creating a distinct "I had an accident" look; the various poses of high-fives for our rollercoaster pictures; and, of course, the delicious fast food which only tastes that good when you pay $20 for it. I mean....right? You will savor each one of those nacho chips.

But possibly the best (or at least most memorable) moment of the day didn't happen at the park itself. It happened at the birthday dinner. At IHOP. Ah, IHOP. Nothing tops off a day at Magic Mountain like a trip to the International House of Pancakes. You sit down after walking around all day in the sun and are presented with pancake options from around the world! It is amazing.

Dinner (or breakfast?) was good, and we enjoyed our meal there, but it turns out we are evil and inconsiderate group patrons and we didn't even know it. Well, now we know it. We should've realized that IHOP does not hire mind-readers. Because at the end of the night when it came to splitting the check we, as IHOP novices I guess, were under the impression that we could take the check to the cashier (I mean c'mon, you take your check to a cashier) and each just tell him we wanted to pay for whatever it was that we ordered. Split it right there. Badda bing badda boom. But it's not like that. Or so our old comrade informed us when we attempted said splitting technique and he asked us with that look of "I hate you and the fact that you are in my IHOP" if we asked our waitress for separate checks and if we were then aware that our waitress wasn't a mind-reader. Which, to be honest, with his thick accent I was just impressed he knew the english words "mind-reader." We said no, we didn't ask for separate checks, apologized and then watched as he went through the arduous 3 minute process of dividing our totals in his little computer.

At the end of it all - right at the moment we're all looking for the toothpick dispenser and heading out the door - one of our number says "thanks for doing that" to the unhappy Sergey, and he responded: "I hope you learned your lesson." And he meant it. But it didn't end there (although it kind of did because we stopped listening). He continued to lecture us (yes, actually lecture like you would an errant child) that when you have a group come into a restaurant (ah-ha! So he hasn't mastered english quite yet. Or else he's using the term "restaurant" very loosely) after 4pm you can't expect the restaurant to just know that you will be paying separately, you have to let them know, blah blah blah. He was still talking as we walked out the door. Which was probably rude on our part to walk out on him but c'mon. We get it. You made it abundantly clear to us that you thought we were idiots already. And we apologized and thanked you for your trouble. You're still going to continue angrily lecturing us? ....yah.....we're gonna go. And by the way you need to refill your toothpick dispenser because it is empty. And that's just bad customer service.

I took away two things from our IHOP experience. Number one: before 4pm the waitresses at IHOP are mind readers. And number two: the strawberry banana pancakes there are delicious.
So really....win win. What a great day!

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

It Begins

In accordance with the agreement entered into, I will begin blogging after you Kelly.