This is getting bad.
By convincing others, I think I've convinced myself that I actually am an interpretive dancer.
It should have been a one-time joke, but I actually claimed it twice as my profession. I should explain.
We wanted to go to this dance club called "Aura" that is in Uptown. We went there a lot last year and a few times this year, so we figured it wouldn't be a problem. Except, this time, we were with 5 guys and they usually only let people in who aren't on the list if you're a group of girls. But, I was feeling super confident thanks to my boy J. Daniels AND it was my friend's 21st birthday, so I figured I'd try to talk us in anyway.
I completely surpass the velvet rope and line of people patiently waiting to get in and go up to the bouncer and say, "Hey, it's my friend's 21st birthday. Will you let us in?"
He looks at me like, 'Are you on crack?' but checks the list anyway. "Are you on the list?"
"Ermm....yeah, yeah we are."
"Ok, what's the name?"
"Uhh....King. The name is King." (There had to be someone under the reservation 'King' right?? I mean, there's a lot of cocky people in Dallas--especially in Uptown--so I figured they'd use that pseudo-name.)
He uses his little earpiece to call inside. "Hey, I don't have the name 'King' on the list out here, do you have it on the list in there?" After a few minutes where I basically died like 5 times, he looks me dead in the eyes and goes, "You're not on the list." Damn.
Am I embarrassed? Surprisingly, no. I couldn't really care less. And this is basically because I know that some way, somehow, we are going to get into that club. So my group walks to the back of the line behind the velvet rope. I'm freezing (I'm in a white lace tank top and its in the 40s) and I want to dance. Therefore, after about 5 or so minutes, I get the other bouncer's attention.
"Hey! Psst....hey!"
He looks at me like, 'Ok, here we go,'..... and as politely as he can manage, he says, "Can I help you?"
"Actually, yes. I know for a fact that it's not crowded in there, so you need to let us in. Like, right now."
He looks at me like, 'You are f****** with me right?!'......and as politely as he can manage, he says, "Can I ask what you do for a living?"
"Yes, I'm an interpretive dancer."
He looks at me like, 'There's nooooooo way that's possible,' but doesn't feel like fighting that fight......and as politely as he can manage, he says, "Ok, if people let you do your job, will you let me do mine?" ((OUCH))
"That depends, are you gonna let us in?"
"Can you let me do my job?"
"Are you gonna let us in?"
"Can you let me do my job?"
"Are you gonna let us in?"
"You can't answer a question with a question."
"Yes I can."
"No you can't."
"Yes-huh."
"No, in fact, you can't. If you took a test and answered every question with a question, you would fail that test."
Silence.
"OK sooooooooo....are you gonna let us in?"
He looks at me like, 'WHAT ARE YOU ON?'.....and as politely as he can manage, he says, "Ok, obviously I don't own this place so I just can't let anyone in. And, you're with a bunch of guys and we usually don't let a lot of guys in with so few girls. Let me talk to my boss and see what I can do.....but I'll probably let you in."
SUPER!
He's about to turn to walk away when I say, "Excuse me, but can I ask you one more question?" His head is about to explode as he grits his teeth and manages to politely say, "Yes, what?"
"I really do want to do this the right way and I appreciate you helping us, so how do I get on the list in the future?" ((I was trying to be polite and seem interested so hopefully that would help our chances of getting in....and I also want to be on the list next time.)) He gives me the details and I thank him as he goes to talk to his boss. I turn around and my friends' mouths are touching the floor. "HALEY! Where did that come from?? What are you doing??" "Well, it's John's birthday and I want him to have fun. So we're getting in."
The bouncer comes back and starts flirting a little as he says, "Ok, I'll let you in, but only because you girls are really cute and that was really brave. But you have to wait a few more minutes in the cold because you're wearing a white lace tank top." Thanks, buddy.
He gave me his card. He was pretty cute. I'm pretty sure he's in my age range. I plan on calling to thank him....maybe.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
I'm Really Upset and Confused.
And I'm being selfish.
Tuesday was the first day of school. I called one of my close friends to book a gossip sesh to discuss all the fun/good/bad/silly/stupid/crazy/inappropriate things we did over break. After a few hours of trying to catch each other between classes and playing phone tag, I finally got her on the phone.
But something was wrong. I could tell.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Well, did you check that website I sent you an hour ago?"
"No I haven't been home yet today. Why?" I had seen the link on my phone, but couldn't access the internet to read it. There was a woman's name (her Godmother) and "Caring Bridge" in the url, so I figured it was a charity my friend's Godmother was starting. She was such a caring and giving woman that I am not surprised that I jumped to that conclusion.
But it was the wrong one.
"Well," she said, "Shelly was skiing down a mountain in Aspen this weekend when she had a brain aneurysm." Oh no, I thought. Oh no, no, no, no, NO. This beautiful woman cannot die. "And they airlifted her to a hospital in Denver," she continued. No. "And she was in a drug-induced coma..." nooooo, please don't say it. "....until they took her off of life support this morning. She had too much brain damage."
I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. My eyes immediately filled with tears. And one word kept running through my mind.
Unbelieveable.
"Caroline, are you ok? Do you want me to come over?"
"No..." sniffs, "I'm fine. But I'm not going to class later. I can't."
"That's fine. Don't go. But I'm going to come over later is that ok?"
"No, you don't have to. It's fine, really."
HA, yeah right. Like I'm going to let you sit on your couch alone and think about her death all day long. So what did I do? Ran to the grocery store to pick up the latest Cosmopolitan magazine and a 6-pack of Blue Moon beer, of course. It won't heal the wound, but it'll help a little.
I'm still in shock that such an amazing woman could leave us just like that. Skiing with her husband and friends one moment and then in the next instant is moments away from death.
You wonder, how can I have such a reaction about one of my friend's Godmothers who I can't possibly know all that well? Well, this is something different. I had the pleasure of meeting her over two years ago in her fashion boutique 4510 here in Dallas. My friend Caroline took me there to have lunch and show me around. It is one of Oprah's favorite stores in Dallas....and one of mine too! Expect I can't afford anything there. Hah, but seriously.
I remember the first time I met her. She gave me a big smile, hug, and a, "Wow, Caroline sure can pick beautiful friends!" You know how people can give you compliments out the wahzoo and you know they're just being fake and don't really mean them? Well this was not Shelly. AT ALL. She was so genuine and loved everyone and you could feel that whenever she smiled at you, gave you a hug, or looked you in the eyes when she was talking to you. Her eyes sparkled, I swear. She was something special.
Which was why I was so shocked. As soon as those words left Caroline's lips, I imagined Shelly strutting over to us with her arms wide open for a hug as we walked in. She was always so happy to see you, she always made you feel good about yourself, and she always listened to what you had to say like it was the most important thing in the world.
Right now, I still can't believe she's gone. My mom and I were going to go visit her when we were in Dallas over New Year's, but we found out she was skiing in Aspen. "No big deal," I thought. "We'll see her when she comes back. We'll go have lunch at 4510 when she'll be there."
I never thought that I wouldn't get to see her again.
Which is why I'm selfish. I didn't even get to see her again! Imagine how wonderful of a woman she was if I, someone who has been around her only a handful of times, is mourning her loss. Imagine how her closest family and friends must feel! I can't even comprehend.
She will truly be missed. I still can't believe she is dead. I don't know when it will sink in.
If you want to see how amazing of a person she was, visit this website. Her family started it after her death to let everyone who knew her know what was going on. It has had over 12,000 hits and 340 comments in the guestbook. I told you she was something special.
Tuesday was the first day of school. I called one of my close friends to book a gossip sesh to discuss all the fun/good/bad/silly/stupid/crazy/inappropriate things we did over break. After a few hours of trying to catch each other between classes and playing phone tag, I finally got her on the phone.
But something was wrong. I could tell.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Well, did you check that website I sent you an hour ago?"
"No I haven't been home yet today. Why?" I had seen the link on my phone, but couldn't access the internet to read it. There was a woman's name (her Godmother) and "Caring Bridge" in the url, so I figured it was a charity my friend's Godmother was starting. She was such a caring and giving woman that I am not surprised that I jumped to that conclusion.
But it was the wrong one.
"Well," she said, "Shelly was skiing down a mountain in Aspen this weekend when she had a brain aneurysm." Oh no, I thought. Oh no, no, no, no, NO. This beautiful woman cannot die. "And they airlifted her to a hospital in Denver," she continued. No. "And she was in a drug-induced coma..." nooooo, please don't say it. "....until they took her off of life support this morning. She had too much brain damage."
I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. My eyes immediately filled with tears. And one word kept running through my mind.
Unbelieveable.
"Caroline, are you ok? Do you want me to come over?"
"No..." sniffs, "I'm fine. But I'm not going to class later. I can't."
"That's fine. Don't go. But I'm going to come over later is that ok?"
"No, you don't have to. It's fine, really."
HA, yeah right. Like I'm going to let you sit on your couch alone and think about her death all day long. So what did I do? Ran to the grocery store to pick up the latest Cosmopolitan magazine and a 6-pack of Blue Moon beer, of course. It won't heal the wound, but it'll help a little.
I'm still in shock that such an amazing woman could leave us just like that. Skiing with her husband and friends one moment and then in the next instant is moments away from death.
You wonder, how can I have such a reaction about one of my friend's Godmothers who I can't possibly know all that well? Well, this is something different. I had the pleasure of meeting her over two years ago in her fashion boutique 4510 here in Dallas. My friend Caroline took me there to have lunch and show me around. It is one of Oprah's favorite stores in Dallas....and one of mine too! Expect I can't afford anything there. Hah, but seriously.
I remember the first time I met her. She gave me a big smile, hug, and a, "Wow, Caroline sure can pick beautiful friends!" You know how people can give you compliments out the wahzoo and you know they're just being fake and don't really mean them? Well this was not Shelly. AT ALL. She was so genuine and loved everyone and you could feel that whenever she smiled at you, gave you a hug, or looked you in the eyes when she was talking to you. Her eyes sparkled, I swear. She was something special.
Which was why I was so shocked. As soon as those words left Caroline's lips, I imagined Shelly strutting over to us with her arms wide open for a hug as we walked in. She was always so happy to see you, she always made you feel good about yourself, and she always listened to what you had to say like it was the most important thing in the world.
Right now, I still can't believe she's gone. My mom and I were going to go visit her when we were in Dallas over New Year's, but we found out she was skiing in Aspen. "No big deal," I thought. "We'll see her when she comes back. We'll go have lunch at 4510 when she'll be there."
I never thought that I wouldn't get to see her again.
Which is why I'm selfish. I didn't even get to see her again! Imagine how wonderful of a woman she was if I, someone who has been around her only a handful of times, is mourning her loss. Imagine how her closest family and friends must feel! I can't even comprehend.
She will truly be missed. I still can't believe she is dead. I don't know when it will sink in.
If you want to see how amazing of a person she was, visit this website. Her family started it after her death to let everyone who knew her know what was going on. It has had over 12,000 hits and 340 comments in the guestbook. I told you she was something special.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Think before you act....naaaaaaaah
So I'm in South Florida....having the time of my life! What am I doing here mid-winter, you ask? Well, visiting my friend from SMU aaaaaaand escaping the God-forsaken cold that has taken over the rest of the country. We were informed yesterday that it snowed in every single state EXCEPT Florida (well, and Hawaii but that doesn't count. And it's raining there hardcore anyways.) How did I come about visiting here? Well just chalk it up to too much flying on Southwest Airlines and earning a free ticket and the fact that I'm a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl.
It all started last October. I asked my friend that lives here if she was going to be here over break. I KNEW I had to get out of freezing Kansas City. She said YES! and invited me down to come visit her. Ok, ok, you don't have to twist my arm! As soon as I got home, I was on the phone with Southwest changing my Christmas Break flight plans. After about 20 minutes, it was all done and I hung up the phone so incredibly happy about trading in the frozen tundra that is Kansas City in January for DA BEACH.
And then it hit me. Did I even ask my parents if this was ok? Nah. Did I check to see if I'll have time for this? Nah. Did I make sure I could financially afford it? Nah. Did I really care about any of the aforementioned questions? Nah.
So Monday came and it was time to go to the airport. And it was blizzarding. My airline warned me that my flight might get delayed or cancelled. I was a little worried. My dad drove me to the airport as tons of snow was coming down and the highways and everything were completely covered. That's when I knew that, no matter what, I had made the right decision in jumping the gun and flying to South Florida. Leaving that freezing place for the sunny beach was the best decision I made this winter. And it's been so fun!
Upon arriving, I made my way outside to wait for my friend to come pick me up. A little 85-year-old lady sat down next to me. We were conversing when my friend arrived and I said I had to leave. The nice lady said, "Ok, you have fun! And be careful and safe," and gave me the look that says 'I was once your age too and I know what goes on in that pretty little head of yours so you better not do some of the things I know you're thinking about doing!'.....and then she gave me a big smile. How does she know me so well? :)
So today ends my stay in South Florida. We begin the drive to Orlando where we'll visit some friends and stay the night. Then we'll stay in Gainesville Saturday night and then begin the 16-hour trek home to Dallas on Sunday getting in late Sunday night.
And then the crazy spring semester begins! I CANNOT WAIT!
It all started last October. I asked my friend that lives here if she was going to be here over break. I KNEW I had to get out of freezing Kansas City. She said YES! and invited me down to come visit her. Ok, ok, you don't have to twist my arm! As soon as I got home, I was on the phone with Southwest changing my Christmas Break flight plans. After about 20 minutes, it was all done and I hung up the phone so incredibly happy about trading in the frozen tundra that is Kansas City in January for DA BEACH.
And then it hit me. Did I even ask my parents if this was ok? Nah. Did I check to see if I'll have time for this? Nah. Did I make sure I could financially afford it? Nah. Did I really care about any of the aforementioned questions? Nah.
So Monday came and it was time to go to the airport. And it was blizzarding. My airline warned me that my flight might get delayed or cancelled. I was a little worried. My dad drove me to the airport as tons of snow was coming down and the highways and everything were completely covered. That's when I knew that, no matter what, I had made the right decision in jumping the gun and flying to South Florida. Leaving that freezing place for the sunny beach was the best decision I made this winter. And it's been so fun!
Upon arriving, I made my way outside to wait for my friend to come pick me up. A little 85-year-old lady sat down next to me. We were conversing when my friend arrived and I said I had to leave. The nice lady said, "Ok, you have fun! And be careful and safe," and gave me the look that says 'I was once your age too and I know what goes on in that pretty little head of yours so you better not do some of the things I know you're thinking about doing!'.....and then she gave me a big smile. How does she know me so well? :)
So today ends my stay in South Florida. We begin the drive to Orlando where we'll visit some friends and stay the night. Then we'll stay in Gainesville Saturday night and then begin the 16-hour trek home to Dallas on Sunday getting in late Sunday night.
And then the crazy spring semester begins! I CANNOT WAIT!
Just so you turn green with envy:
Monday, January 10, 2011
I Officially Belong Here
Gone are the days of believing I was born to live in the bustling city of New York strolling up and down Park Avenue clad in designer items on my way to see the latest Broadway play.
Gone are the days of feeling like I've escaped becoming a townie or a Kansas hillbilly.
Gone are the days of believing I am too glamorous for good ole' Shawnee. Sometimes called "a backwards town" (by those who don't live here and know its true inherent value, by the way), it has a reputation of being old and rundown. But it's not.
After years of looking at some Shawnee citizens in our local grocery store and thinking, "I hope I'm not like one of those," now I definitely feel like one.
You see, I was born with a mouth full of messed up teeth. A late bloomer when it came to absolutely everything in my life, I was still losing my baby teeth as I entered high school. And then we were informed that there were three baby teeth I would never lose....because no adult teeth developed to replace them! I'M DEFECTIVE!!! Anyway, since I was getting older, we were advised to put braces on my teeth (including the baby ones) to straighten out my mouth. Later, the baby teeth would wear out and I would have to get fake ones. So, entering high school with a mouth full of braces that resembled a roller coaster (I'm not exaggerating--I literally had teeth all over the place), my self-esteem was immediately shot to the ground before anyone else had any chance to do it themselves. It was super. But I survived.
Fast forward 6 and a half years later to this week. My teeth are straight, white, and hurting. The baby ones, anyway. Their time has come to leave the nest. They've done their time and I've worn them out. So my mom took me to the oral surgeon to have one of my upper teeth removed. I was practically peeing my pants as I waited for the surgeon to stick my gums with that huge-a** needle so that he could put a pair of huge-a** pliers in there to yank out a tooth. Before he stuck that huge-a** needle in my mouth, I almost jumped out of the chair and screamed, "You don't have to do this! I can bear the pain for the rest of my life! Don't stick me with that thing!" But I didn't. Because then I remembered I was 21 years old (not 8) and should be fully matured and capable of getting a baby tooth pulled. Well I got the baby tooth pulled, but I'm not convinced I'm fully matured. Late bloomer, remember?
Anyway, ever since I've had this tooth out, I can feel a hole in my mouth. And I don't feel glamorous. At all. And I feel like I either got into a townie bar fight at Johnny's Tavern (here in good ole' Shawnee) or that I'm a hillbilly who drunkenly let one of my friends pull out my tooth like in The Hangover. You can't see the hole at all, but I'm my own worst critic and demand perfection at every turn so I know it's there. And I? Don't. Like. It.
Sure I'm going to get a fake tooth soon and sure you don't know it's missing unless I show you OR laugh obnoxiously loud with my mouth wide open.... soooo who cares? No one, that's who. NO ONE CARES.
So now I just have to get over it. Over this feeling of being a hillbilly. But I doubt I will. I'm officially one of those Shawnee citizens. Super.
Gone are the days of feeling like I've escaped becoming a townie or a Kansas hillbilly.
Gone are the days of believing I am too glamorous for good ole' Shawnee. Sometimes called "a backwards town" (by those who don't live here and know its true inherent value, by the way), it has a reputation of being old and rundown. But it's not.
After years of looking at some Shawnee citizens in our local grocery store and thinking, "I hope I'm not like one of those," now I definitely feel like one.
You see, I was born with a mouth full of messed up teeth. A late bloomer when it came to absolutely everything in my life, I was still losing my baby teeth as I entered high school. And then we were informed that there were three baby teeth I would never lose....because no adult teeth developed to replace them! I'M DEFECTIVE!!! Anyway, since I was getting older, we were advised to put braces on my teeth (including the baby ones) to straighten out my mouth. Later, the baby teeth would wear out and I would have to get fake ones. So, entering high school with a mouth full of braces that resembled a roller coaster (I'm not exaggerating--I literally had teeth all over the place), my self-esteem was immediately shot to the ground before anyone else had any chance to do it themselves. It was super. But I survived.
Fast forward 6 and a half years later to this week. My teeth are straight, white, and hurting. The baby ones, anyway. Their time has come to leave the nest. They've done their time and I've worn them out. So my mom took me to the oral surgeon to have one of my upper teeth removed. I was practically peeing my pants as I waited for the surgeon to stick my gums with that huge-a** needle so that he could put a pair of huge-a** pliers in there to yank out a tooth. Before he stuck that huge-a** needle in my mouth, I almost jumped out of the chair and screamed, "You don't have to do this! I can bear the pain for the rest of my life! Don't stick me with that thing!" But I didn't. Because then I remembered I was 21 years old (not 8) and should be fully matured and capable of getting a baby tooth pulled. Well I got the baby tooth pulled, but I'm not convinced I'm fully matured. Late bloomer, remember?
Anyway, ever since I've had this tooth out, I can feel a hole in my mouth. And I don't feel glamorous. At all. And I feel like I either got into a townie bar fight at Johnny's Tavern (here in good ole' Shawnee) or that I'm a hillbilly who drunkenly let one of my friends pull out my tooth like in The Hangover. You can't see the hole at all, but I'm my own worst critic and demand perfection at every turn so I know it's there. And I? Don't. Like. It.
Sure I'm going to get a fake tooth soon and sure you don't know it's missing unless I show you OR laugh obnoxiously loud with my mouth wide open.... soooo who cares? No one, that's who. NO ONE CARES.
So now I just have to get over it. Over this feeling of being a hillbilly. But I doubt I will. I'm officially one of those Shawnee citizens. Super.
Friday, January 7, 2011
My Cousin Vinny
I never have a boring night out. Even if we decide to go to a low-key bar for a few drinks and some much-missed girl talk, it never ends up being "low-key".....EVER.
And I'm ok with that. In fact, I love it. Boring nights should be restricted to lame people who don't know how to have fun. And I don't associate with those kinds of people. (Feel honored. If you are reading this, then the odds are that you probably know me. And if you know me, then I don't consider you a boring person. Because if you were boring, I wouldn't talk to you......Joking....)
Last night started off with dinner at Waxy O'Shea's with the fam. Cue vast amounts of laughter. After, I decided to ditch the fam to go out with a few girls and was waiting outside the restaraunt for a friend so we could leave. Then I was, yet again, informed that my blog readership goes beyond what I anticpate. A nice man stopped me and asked, "Are you a Soetaert?"
I was stopped in my tracks and pretty surprised because no, I am not "technically" a Soetaert because that is not my last name, but my relatives are Soetaerts. So I'm a Soetaert in a kind-of-sort-of-way. Actually, I have been asked this question by adults who are familiar with that part of my family multiple times throughout my childhood. I would be stopped at the pool, at the mall, etc by random strangers asking the question, "Are you a Soetaert?" I guess I've got those dominant Soetaert genes then.
As we began talking, however, I realized I did know and recognize him from multiple gatherings my grandparents have had. He's a good friend of theirs. He said, "You went to Belgium this summer, right?" "Yes, I did!" "Yeah, your grandparents told me. That's when I started reading your blog." A shade of deep crimson immediately engulfed my face. My mind started racing. 'Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod WHAT have I been writing on that blog lately?? What all did I say I did in Europe?? Ohmigod, I need to start editing myself if my grandparents' friends are reading that thing!!!' I quickly recovered and responded with a big smile and "Ohh, really? That's great! Yeah, I'm always surprised when people tell me they read my blog because I forget it's public domain." Shit.
As much as I was worried about what I've been writing on this darn thing, I was actually very flattered. Wow, people actually like to read what I have to say? That made me feel so good! So thanks, Kevin, if you're reading this. I'm glad you stopped me and said hello! And happy birthday! (It was his birthday yesterday..) And thanks for reminding me to edit myself because you never know who is reading....
Anyway, fast-forward a few hours later. We've got some intense dance-floor moves by our crazy miniature 5-foot friend, a few failed pick-up lines by some random Wyandotte County guy in a wife beater, a successful spill of half a pitcher that managed to attract the attention of everyone within a 30-foot radius of our table, and two guys from K-State who just can't...seem...to graduate. And are still sticking around our table as well.
One guy's name is Vinny. And at first I think it's a fake name because this guy doesn't look like a "Vinny"....at all. Now when I choose my fake names, I try to pick one that at least fits me. And guys usually believe it. His was a failed attempt, but we played along anyway....it actually probably is real.
The conversation is winding down (has been for the past hour, mind you) when we decide it's time to peace out. Vinny asks for my number. Not really wanting to give it but not wanting to totally destroy his ego either, I say sure. He gives me his phone and I first type in my friend's number but I decide I can't do that to her....damn you, conscious! So after a few minutes of pretending to try and figure out how to work his phone while thinking about how I'm going to handle this situation, I resolve to put my own number in. I leave for Florida on Monday and won't be back in Kansas for 5 months so that seems a logical end to the "relationship". I'll just tell him that. No harm done.
He asks what I'm doing tomorrow night. "Well, my cousin is coming in town so we'll probably go to the Power and Light district.....you guys should come (???)" (WHY DID I SAY THAT!) He responds with, "Ohh, actually I think I'm gonna hang out with my grandpa. You see, he's really old but he's cool to hang out with." I should be insulted but I'm not....I just didn't care enough I suppose. I think, 'Wow, I just invited you and your friends to come out with us tomorrow night after you asked for my number and you say you would rather hang out with your grandpa?!' Haaaaa. Niiiiiice. Glad I fall short of a gramps. Awesome.
Anyway, we leave. Later, he texts. He sucks at carrying on a texting conversation. Relationship over.
Lessons from the night:
Monitor what you put on the internet (not that I've really put anything that bad).
Don't let a guy wearing a wife beater in a bar think he's got a shot because he'll just keep coming back...and back...and back.
Don't give your number to someone you won't have a future with. Pointless. And stupid.
Let your friend dance....but not so that she pulls a few muscles. That's too wide of a range.
And finally, have lots of fun. Always.
And I'm ok with that. In fact, I love it. Boring nights should be restricted to lame people who don't know how to have fun. And I don't associate with those kinds of people. (Feel honored. If you are reading this, then the odds are that you probably know me. And if you know me, then I don't consider you a boring person. Because if you were boring, I wouldn't talk to you......Joking....)
Last night started off with dinner at Waxy O'Shea's with the fam. Cue vast amounts of laughter. After, I decided to ditch the fam to go out with a few girls and was waiting outside the restaraunt for a friend so we could leave. Then I was, yet again, informed that my blog readership goes beyond what I anticpate. A nice man stopped me and asked, "Are you a Soetaert?"
I was stopped in my tracks and pretty surprised because no, I am not "technically" a Soetaert because that is not my last name, but my relatives are Soetaerts. So I'm a Soetaert in a kind-of-sort-of-way. Actually, I have been asked this question by adults who are familiar with that part of my family multiple times throughout my childhood. I would be stopped at the pool, at the mall, etc by random strangers asking the question, "Are you a Soetaert?" I guess I've got those dominant Soetaert genes then.
As we began talking, however, I realized I did know and recognize him from multiple gatherings my grandparents have had. He's a good friend of theirs. He said, "You went to Belgium this summer, right?" "Yes, I did!" "Yeah, your grandparents told me. That's when I started reading your blog." A shade of deep crimson immediately engulfed my face. My mind started racing. 'Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod WHAT have I been writing on that blog lately?? What all did I say I did in Europe?? Ohmigod, I need to start editing myself if my grandparents' friends are reading that thing!!!' I quickly recovered and responded with a big smile and "Ohh, really? That's great! Yeah, I'm always surprised when people tell me they read my blog because I forget it's public domain." Shit.
As much as I was worried about what I've been writing on this darn thing, I was actually very flattered. Wow, people actually like to read what I have to say? That made me feel so good! So thanks, Kevin, if you're reading this. I'm glad you stopped me and said hello! And happy birthday! (It was his birthday yesterday..) And thanks for reminding me to edit myself because you never know who is reading....
Anyway, fast-forward a few hours later. We've got some intense dance-floor moves by our crazy miniature 5-foot friend, a few failed pick-up lines by some random Wyandotte County guy in a wife beater, a successful spill of half a pitcher that managed to attract the attention of everyone within a 30-foot radius of our table, and two guys from K-State who just can't...seem...to graduate. And are still sticking around our table as well.
One guy's name is Vinny. And at first I think it's a fake name because this guy doesn't look like a "Vinny"....at all. Now when I choose my fake names, I try to pick one that at least fits me. And guys usually believe it. His was a failed attempt, but we played along anyway....it actually probably is real.
The conversation is winding down (has been for the past hour, mind you) when we decide it's time to peace out. Vinny asks for my number. Not really wanting to give it but not wanting to totally destroy his ego either, I say sure. He gives me his phone and I first type in my friend's number but I decide I can't do that to her....damn you, conscious! So after a few minutes of pretending to try and figure out how to work his phone while thinking about how I'm going to handle this situation, I resolve to put my own number in. I leave for Florida on Monday and won't be back in Kansas for 5 months so that seems a logical end to the "relationship". I'll just tell him that. No harm done.
He asks what I'm doing tomorrow night. "Well, my cousin is coming in town so we'll probably go to the Power and Light district.....you guys should come (???)" (WHY DID I SAY THAT!) He responds with, "Ohh, actually I think I'm gonna hang out with my grandpa. You see, he's really old but he's cool to hang out with." I should be insulted but I'm not....I just didn't care enough I suppose. I think, 'Wow, I just invited you and your friends to come out with us tomorrow night after you asked for my number and you say you would rather hang out with your grandpa?!' Haaaaa. Niiiiiice. Glad I fall short of a gramps. Awesome.
Anyway, we leave. Later, he texts. He sucks at carrying on a texting conversation. Relationship over.
Lessons from the night:
Monitor what you put on the internet (not that I've really put anything that bad).
Don't let a guy wearing a wife beater in a bar think he's got a shot because he'll just keep coming back...and back...and back.
Don't give your number to someone you won't have a future with. Pointless. And stupid.
Let your friend dance....but not so that she pulls a few muscles. That's too wide of a range.
And finally, have lots of fun. Always.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Absinthe
I'm sorry....I meant absence. I must have just put that as the title because I was thinking about the other day when my mother told me Miley Cyrus got caught smoking a bong and she claimed it was "Absinthe" (which keeps going in and out of legality, by the way) and NOT Pot. Of course we believe you, Miley! Not.
Poor girl. A role model to millions and she can't have fun by doing anything illegal. She's been robbed of the adolescent ability to know right from wrong and knowingly choose the wrong. Instead of her parents and and their friends finding out about her mistakes, she's got the whole world to worry about. Neighborhood gossip at its finest: The Tabloids.
Anyway, this is about me, NOT Miley. I felt that perhaps that was a lighthearted lead-in to what is sure to be a semi-depressing post. Sooooo.....let's get to it.
Please excuse my prolonged absence.
I haven’t been feeling like myself lately. So I haven’t been doing my normal things. I love writing, yet I haven’t been able to bring myself to come here. I LOVE going out (perhaps sometimes too much) but I haven’t been able to make myself go.
I blame gray Kansas City.
Don’t get me wrong: I LOVE Kansas City….in the summertime. And during the holidays. But after the holidays and during the months of January and February (which I am convinced are the two most pointless months of the entire year), it’s cold and gray and there’s nothing going on. So I’d just rather sleep.
I realized this when, night after night, my friends would call me around 9/10ish telling me to go out with them aaaaaaaand I was in bed. In my pajamas in the dark having taken off my make-up, I was settling in with Bon Iver and getting ready to pass the F out. At 9pm. Am I a BABY?!?! It’s not like I planned to go to bed at this time. In fact, I never even looked at the clock until they would scream, “HALEY!!! IT’S 9:30!!!!”
“Ohh, really? I thought it was much later. Anyway, I’m going to pass. I’m tired.” And I would almost instantaneously escape into dreamland as I hung up.
I couldn’t bear the thought of tearing myself from my warm bed, getting dressed and re-doing my make-up to go out into the 20-something weather and drive 30 minutes to get where we wanted to go. That’s the other thing about Kansas City: we all live so far away from each other and the bars that it takes time, energy, and effort to get somewhere. And that’s the time, energy and effort I just don’t seem to have right now. So I fall asleep.
Whew, what a depressing post!
Don’t worry, my break hasn’t been so low-key and full of nothingness. I’ve had some really great times that, incidentally, can’t be recorded on the Internet. For future employer’s sake. And yours. And mine. But some can and will be recorded. Just not right now. I don’t have time: I’m going on a run. That’s where I do most of my thinking. It’s where I clear my head. And where I come up with some of my blog posts because I have the time to think. I made this quick little one because I felt like I owed you an explanation.
And if you didn’t need/want one, I did. So there it is.
Enjoy the months of January and February—I’ll be trying to pretend it’s June.
Poor girl. A role model to millions and she can't have fun by doing anything illegal. She's been robbed of the adolescent ability to know right from wrong and knowingly choose the wrong. Instead of her parents and and their friends finding out about her mistakes, she's got the whole world to worry about. Neighborhood gossip at its finest: The Tabloids.
Anyway, this is about me, NOT Miley. I felt that perhaps that was a lighthearted lead-in to what is sure to be a semi-depressing post. Sooooo.....let's get to it.
Please excuse my prolonged absence.
I haven’t been feeling like myself lately. So I haven’t been doing my normal things. I love writing, yet I haven’t been able to bring myself to come here. I LOVE going out (perhaps sometimes too much) but I haven’t been able to make myself go.
I blame gray Kansas City.
Don’t get me wrong: I LOVE Kansas City….in the summertime. And during the holidays. But after the holidays and during the months of January and February (which I am convinced are the two most pointless months of the entire year), it’s cold and gray and there’s nothing going on. So I’d just rather sleep.
I realized this when, night after night, my friends would call me around 9/10ish telling me to go out with them aaaaaaaand I was in bed. In my pajamas in the dark having taken off my make-up, I was settling in with Bon Iver and getting ready to pass the F out. At 9pm. Am I a BABY?!?! It’s not like I planned to go to bed at this time. In fact, I never even looked at the clock until they would scream, “HALEY!!! IT’S 9:30!!!!”
“Ohh, really? I thought it was much later. Anyway, I’m going to pass. I’m tired.” And I would almost instantaneously escape into dreamland as I hung up.
I couldn’t bear the thought of tearing myself from my warm bed, getting dressed and re-doing my make-up to go out into the 20-something weather and drive 30 minutes to get where we wanted to go. That’s the other thing about Kansas City: we all live so far away from each other and the bars that it takes time, energy, and effort to get somewhere. And that’s the time, energy and effort I just don’t seem to have right now. So I fall asleep.
Whew, what a depressing post!
Don’t worry, my break hasn’t been so low-key and full of nothingness. I’ve had some really great times that, incidentally, can’t be recorded on the Internet. For future employer’s sake. And yours. And mine. But some can and will be recorded. Just not right now. I don’t have time: I’m going on a run. That’s where I do most of my thinking. It’s where I clear my head. And where I come up with some of my blog posts because I have the time to think. I made this quick little one because I felt like I owed you an explanation.
And if you didn’t need/want one, I did. So there it is.
Enjoy the months of January and February—I’ll be trying to pretend it’s June.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)