Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Update to my broken Dog - scroll down and read Dave Broke my dog first . . .

Tonight Dave came over to cook dinner for my friend Jerry and I and Daisy nearly knocked Dave over with the jumping and licking. (So maybe she’s not broke after all.) Dinner, however, was scrumptious. (Even though you yelled at me about everything I bought or had in MY kitchen.)

We had Chicken and Arugula Sandwiches from the Giant recipe collection. I was in charge of the ingredients and Dave would be all Rachael-Dave for the evening. So, I shopped at lunch and got the ingredients and for those of you that know me, I HATE TO GROCERY SHOP so I do it as quickly as possible. And of course, I didn’t do it to Dave’s liking.

First off, if you do make this recipe - (and you should because it's quite tasty)

– it calls for 1 Tablespoon of Honey and I want everyone out there to know that Honey costs $5 for that STUPID BEAR shaped jar! $5 FREAKING DOLLARS – what am I ever going to use Honey for again?? So, I’m going to give you a tip that my BFF gave me AFTER we had dinner. Go to Starbucks and ask for a couple of packages – unless you feel you’ll have a need for Honey in future – which I’m pretty sure I won’t. You can also go to KFC and do the same. (Dave and I thought of this one - umm.. hello? Biscuits anyone?)

So I get the ingredients and when Dave gets to my house he immediately mocks my shopping – because instead of horseradish sauce, (doesn’t it look like hoser radish? – anyway ...) I got some sort of creamy horseradish thing in a squirt bottle. I swear, it was the only HORSERADISH sauce I saw. (According to Dave, and his almighty grocery shopping knowledge, NO. There are 100’s of different kinds to choose from.) I of course argued and lost round 1.

Round 2: Bread – Recipe calls for: 4 Slice Giant Eagle sunflower seed bread, lightly toasted. Now last night, Dave told me to get the same type of bread we had for dinner last week when he cooked (yes you did because that’s why I bought what I bought). I went to the bakery section of the store and bought some sort of Mediterranean bread loaf that just looked and smelled YUMMY and didn’t even think about slicing it up for sandwiches. I’ll say it again: I WAS IN CHARGE OF INGREDIENTS, NOT PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER. Jill loses round 2.

Round 3: Side Dish(es) Dave tells me that after foraging through my fridge/freezer last week that I have enough frozen vegetables to feed a small army so he’ll defrost and season to every one’s liking. I decide that potato chips sound like the perfect side dish to a sandwich and pick up a bag of Wavy Lays. (What? Potato’s are a vegetable.) Fast forward. I’m upstairs cleaning my room waiting for my dinner and hear Dave scream for me to “come and look at this” and am forced to view several bricks of ice and corn, ice and peas/carrots combo, ice and a medley of veggies. (I really did have enough to feed an army - or, build my very own igloo.) Round 3 looks to be a wash because of my back up plan – MY wavy vegetables and, I included fruit to our dinner. It’s officially Summer (or at least it feels that way) in Ohio and that usually means that fresh fruit is served with dinner. Luckily I had this planned out – I had a very ripe Orange to go with the Blue Moon Beer!

Victory! Victory! I’m number one! You can’t have sandwiches without the beer! And Oranges are a necessary ingredient when drinking a Blue Moon.

So there I sit, enjoying dinner and I can’t help but think that Dave somewhat resembles my dad; making me look at everything I’ve done wrong. Seriously, who does this? No wonder I have self esteem issues. Tell me what I’ve done RIGHT (make up shit if you have to). He also makes fun of how much food I have in my house that is WAY past its expiration date. Honestly, no wonder I’m broke, I buy all this food and I don’t even like to cook – so it just sits in my fridge/freezer or shelf and collects dust or congeals to a gel-like consistency. (Last week’s dinner? I was POSITIVE I had red wine vinegar or something that we (Dave) needed for the recipe. Anyway, I DID have it but, as Dave pointed out - by making me look at it – again, why? - it was like a big glob of red-wine goo.) So I like to buy stuff – that’s another story altogether. Total score: Dave is a great cook and I AM a great shopper. I also decide that Dave would be both a good dad and an awful dad all at once. Good thing we never had kids . .. (Dear God – imagine if?)

Then, just as quickly as he came and prepared dinner, he was off and out the door. Jerry came over later and we of course gossiped and laughed about everyone and anyone we could think of. Later - I got to clean up, but that was the best part - I’m a sick freak who actually LOVES to clean up. It’s the only time I can see all the stuff I’ve bought for my kitchen.

California Dreaming . . .

So, week two in California was a busy one. We (my District Manager and Store manager) had three solid days of interviewing candidates for a new store that will open in the fall in Chino Hills. This part of my job never gets old (well, maybe at the end of the day) because people will tell you the craziest things in an interview (or anywhere for that matter.) Don’t believe me? Next time you’re talking to a complete stranger, on the bus, a plane, at the mall – wherever, just start talking to them and out of no where ask them something personal and see what happens. I get to experience this every week. I don’t know if it’s me or if it’s really true that people will tell you just about anything, but I get so many crazy answers and stories to my interview questions that I am seriously thinking about writing a book. (hmmmm…. I think I have an idea for another blog!)

So since I’m all the way out in California for three days of work, I decided to stay the weekend and take in the sights (beaches) of sunny California. Well, first off, it was UNSEASONABLY warm that week. I’m talking three digit temps. I think the last day I was there it was an ungodly 113 degrees! I had sweat in places I didn’t think could sweat. Very pretty sight I might add, too.

Staying the extra couple of days sounded like a good idea when I booked the trip like 2-3 weeks prior. After being in L.A. the first week and then another right after, (and being homesick) those extra days sounded more like boot camp than vacation to me. I was really looking forward to hitting the beach – but since it was so hot I didn’t feel like lugging myself and all my beach necessities to and from the car. This is when boyfriends come in handy, they carry stuff and feel all manly and I can act girly as I walk in my cute new bathing suit, cover up and flipity – flops and find the perfect spot in the sand. It’s a win-win really. But, with no man at hand, that idea was shot to hell.

I was discussing this point with Dave, when he tells me that he can’t believe I haven’t “hooked-up” with men while I’m on the road. I’m in a different city/hotel every week – why haven’t I done this? His tone is serious and I’m like, “haven’t you watched Law and Order SVU ever? Um, hello. . . . people DIE ALONE in HOTEL ROOMS with NO ONE BACK HOME knowing what happened to them!” Ok, so maybe I watch a little too much CSI, Law and Order, The First 48 and Cold Case Files, but still – it happens – all of those shows, while fictional, are BASED on ACTUAL events. (It says so in the credits.)

Anyway, he somehow convinces me to go on and see if anyone is looking for a hook-up in the OC. But, my computer’s firewall prevents me from checking Craigslist out, so we decide on Now, Dave is at my house on my computer and logged in as me and I’m in CA on my work computer and logged in as well and we’re both looking for a man for me that I can go on a date with. Is Dave not the greatest man on this earth or what? (and you cook – yes, you rock right now Dave). So, we begin our search and I narrow it down to those who are on line at that moment. I’m only going to be in L.A. for the weekend, I need to act quickly. So I find a couple and start off with a wink and then email. I can’t believe how easy it was and how quickly I got over my anxiety about this whole thing. Dave and I finish chatting for the evening, since it’s late in Ohio and we’re about to say our goodbye’s and just as I hang up, I got an instant message from Bachelor number one.

It's 2am in Ohio and I need to get my beauty sleep. Stay tuned . . .

MEN . . . CAN'T LIVE WITH(OUT) 'EM . . . .

So that first week in California I got an email for a date from a former boyfriend, or whatever he called himself. I prefer to think of him as the guy who works for the CIA. You know the type, he's all over me for like 2 months making plans for all kinds of things like going boating or bike riding or what-the-fuck-ever is on him mind at that moment, and talking about vacations we should take. Then, just as soon as I feel comfortable knowing that he's there by my side, WHAM! He's been re-assigned to someone else's life and I'm left defenseless against my own insecurities.

Well, after listening to Dave and my friend Jerry’s' advice I emailed said man back and accepted his offer for a date a week ago. (Who am I kidding? I would have called him anyway - shut up, you've all been there.) So, we chat a bit and make the plan for our hook-up (I mean date) and it's like we haven't missed a beat. I mean it's only been a year or so but hey, who's counting? (Not me anyway)

We head downtown to have dinner/drinks, drinks and more drinks. If I'm going to pick up where we left off - I'm going to need a boat-load of drinks, and of course food - lots of food (that I won't eat because he ALWAYS talks about dieting when we go out to eat (WTF????) Fine, if I can't eat like I want to, I'll spend your money on food that will just sit there and then I'll just drink/drunk on your tab. Dear God and Baby Jesus, why oh why do I like this man?? We start with small talk to catch up. How’s so and so and so and so. What’s new with them? What have you been up to since the last time I saw you (ripping my beating heart from my chest?) You know, light conversation over food and (haunted) spirits.

He then switches the conversation to my travels. Am I still traveling a lot? Where have I been so far this year? And then, then he asks me if I've ever been to San Diego . He knows I have, and I tell him so and when I ask why he asks, and get this, he says that he was just there this past February. I let it go for a minute - he travels for his job too, but has never traveled West before. We start talking about downtown SD and the Gas Lamp District and how much fun it is, yada yada yada, but he only had one night there because his CRUISE left port the next day. (SCREEEEEECCCCCHHHHHH goes the record/music in my head) "What?? You went on a CRUISE?" I ask (scream). "With whom? - Cunt face? (Name has been changed on her behalf).

That FUCKING bitch went on my GODDAMN cruise!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! UGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I just looked at him and smiled (while I tried to stop the screaming inside my head) and simply said, "We need more drinks." Inside I was seething and what I really wanted to do was punch him in the balls, but I decided I'd hit him where it would hurt him more and make me feel a whole lot better; his wallet. I then told the bartender that I was feeling adventurous and to make me anything "tropical" and with an umbrella. You know the kind; the put-every-kind-of-alcohol-in-the-drink-to-make-it-more-expensive (since it's on him and oh yeah, give yourself a big fat tip.) So I ordered 2 or 10 drinks like this (shots too) to help me forget that I didn't go on a cruise this past February (it didn't work) but it did make me forget about kicking his head in. We sat there for a few more hours, drinking enough to cover the cost of another cruise, and started talking about past Jimmy Buffet concerts (his hand on my knee) and being on the boat up at the lake (his hand on my thigh) with his friends and maybe (hand moving all over) we'll go again this summer. Yada yada yada - here we go again. . . . I hate him, I really do - but I like making out and yada yada yada-ing more. (Whatev - all bets are off when you’re drunk.)

BTW - Cunt-face is out of the picture (of course she is - she got MY cruise and then ditched the rat bastard)