Street Urchin

Lots of people hate Christmas but I love it. Not for the presents, the bustle of shopping, the consumerism, not for religious reasons. I love it for the gaudy colored lights, the smell of cinnamon and pine, hot mulled wine, the comfort of family together in a warm house. It’s New Year’s Eve and Valentine's Day that I detest. Valentine’s Day is obvious; do I possibly need another reason to be depressed about being single and unloved?! But New Year’s Eve is just a mess. Drunk people everywhere, stress and expectation. Stupid myths about how you start off your year, ridiculous resolutions and insincere promises. Outlandish cover charges at lame bars. The complete unavailability of taxis. Those dumb hats people wear. It’s just plain annoying.
My hatred of New Year’s Eve has a long history. In fact, the list of irritations above is nothing compared to my personal history of mild catastrophes on NYE. I have had huge fights with two boyfriends on NYE and I mean FIGHTS – one I dumped beer on his head, ripped the necklace I made for him off and threw it out the window; another I sorta punched and he knocked me over in front of everyone at a warehouse party. On NYE 2000 (when the entire country was swept with Y2K rumors of immanent destruction and chaos) my bf at the time decided to take liquid LSD without telling me and I was baby sitting him all night in crowd of thousands. On yet another miserable NYE I watched my friend and cousin make out conspicuously and loudly for hours. That night culminated with a pigeon shitting on my FACE on my walk home. Last year I was in an awful night club, high on coke, with my Brazilian boyfriend and his friends, pretending to have fun. Needless to say, my track record is not good.
So, this year I decided to work at the restaurant. I assumed that would keep me out of trouble. But I was wrong. Before my shift even ended the manager had given me two drinks. Then I was convinced to go to a party at coworker’s house on the border of Oakland and Berkeley. My plan was to drink wantonly the first hour, so I could get a good buzz, and then spend the next couple hours drinking water and sobering up for the drive home. The only problem was when I went to look for my car at 2:30 am, I couldn’t find it. I went back the party house, they kicked me out saying everyone had left, it was over. I ended up wandering the streets of Oaktown, in a slightly ghetto neighborhood, alone, semi-drunk and crying for 3 hours! I called cabs - they never answered or never came. At one point a Yellow Cab operator told me the wait was 2 hours for a cab! I made phone calls; no one answered, they were either drunk or in bed asleep. The one person would I got ahold of was Teo, my ex boyfriend, who was at a party 40 miles away, wasted. I succeeded in completely freaking him out; he kept saying he was going to come get me and I kept telling him not to because he was too drunk. Instead he insisted on calling me every 5 minutes to see if I was OK. I think he called me like 30 times! I was literally running up and down side streets frantically searching for my car. At one point, I thought, 'THIS IS IT. This NYE I am going to die on the streets of Oakland, someone is going to kill and rape me and that will be the end of it all!' But no one did. I think I looked too crazy and pathetic!
At 3:30 am I ran into a woman walking her dog and she offered to let me ride her bike so I could cover more ground looking for my car. Then I was teetering through dark streets on a bike, babbling on my cell in terror to Teo and nearly crashing. Finally, around 5am the kind lady with the dog volunteered to drive me home in her old clunky van. I hopped in the front seat with the dog (I was best friends with her by now, she was so sweet and cute – a mix of chow and pitbull) and gave the lady $20 for gas.
When I got home there was a note on my front door from the 24 year old Indian guy I had went out with several days earlier (that’s another story)…
The note read (think it was actually supposed to be a song):

‘Dear, dear Violeta, O ya pretty face!
Better to keep your ears open, listen to me trying to ROCK!!!
You are the one I like for who you be and how you are!
You make me smile and happy like a fucking SUPERSTAR!!

Don’t you get MAD at me for dropping by here this card!
It’s the just way I am and I promise to change it if you want!!’

Blah blah blah… I’ll spare you the rest but it ended with.

‘I LOOOOOOOOOOOOVEEEE YA!!!!!’

Just when I was home, safe in my house and I thought the nightmare was finally over - Teo called, his voiced slurred saying he was on the Bay Bridge driving to my house. Apparently he hadn’t listened to my begging him not to drive drunk and was well on his way. He continued to call me for the next hour, completely lost in various parts of Oakland. There were cops everywhere. Miraculously, he arrived safely (and without a DUI)at my house around 7am. I opened the door and he tore my pajamas off. I like to think he was concerned about my safety but apparently he had other concerns in mind as well…
To top it all off I was expected at work that morning. I arrived 2 hours late. My coworkers were highly amused by re-enactment of the evening.

I think I will stay home next year. Maybe have a toast with myself and some sparkling apple cider. No need to temp fate anymore…

Vet for the Insane

Last night I had a dream that there was a giant rat in my house. I never actually saw the rat until the end of my dream but evidence of it was everywhere. It was gnawing its way through my food, my furnishings... There were big, raw, exposed bite marks on everything. I was terrified of encountering it yet I needed to catch it to remove it from my house. Finally I set a trap for it. It was huge with enormous yellow fangs.
BUT the rat escaped. I was totally freaked out. Then one of my least favorite coworkers appears in the dream. I am hugging him and kissing him. Weird.
I wonder what Freud would make of all this...

One other thing...

My conversation with the old poet started with me scolding him for cutting in line to the wedding buffet. I believe I called him 'Amoral'. He cut right in front of little kids, grandparents, a priest - what a jerk! After he put up with my lecture and subsequent character dissection he had the nerve to say, "You do realize you're completely crazy!"
To which I replied, "Its not the first time I've heard that..."
"But it might be the last, IF I KILL YOU!"
heh heh

How are you?

The Scream

I just got home from a wedding. Now, weddings are not my favorite thing. In fact there has not been a single wedding that I have attended in the last 6 years that has not failed to make me cry hysterically at some point in the night. Granted, over the years I have gotten better at hiding it. Tonight for example, I politely excused myself and drove home, only slightly intoxicated. The problem was that I was listening to U2 and it somehow reminded me of my ex boyfriend (who I thought I was finally over) and then, before you know it, I am sobbing out loud, alone in my car, driving across the Bay Bridge. Red tail lights bleed into an impressionist painting as I wipe streaks of mascara off my face.
It all took a turn for the worse when an older, 50+ poet started to follow me around at the reception. He just wouldn’t leave me alone. At one point he gave me a long hug and told me he loved me. Then he came back later to say “You know I just wanted to tell you that saying ‘I love you’ was just a figure of speech.” To which I replied “Don’t worry, I wasn’t spending all night thinking about it. I forgot you even said that”. At that point he then continued with veiled insults, at one point asking me how old I was. I refused to tell him. He guessed 36. I was pissed! Now, I’m not the youngest woman in the room but I’m not used to people guessing older than my age.
It just sucked. I felt insulted and hit on at the same time. I guess that’s an age old trick; make a woman feel like shit about herself then hit on her. I am tired of sleazy jerks hitting on me. I’m tired of men saying rude and inappropriate things to me and thinking they can get away with it just because I’m single.
I arrived home depressed and lonely. I plugged in my Christmas Tree (to cheer myself up) and called my ex boyfriend. I know, I know, not good. But I am soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo fucking lonely, you people in relationships have NO fucking idea. He was nice enough but the nevertheless the conversation left me feeling even worse.
So when I listened to my mom’s VM saying, “Hi honey. I just called to see how you are…” it felt very ironic. What should I say?! “Hi Mom, I’m great. I am a 34 year old, single waitress. How the @#$%!&* do you think I am?! I want to gouge my eyes out! I want to die. I can’t stand this any longer. I want to run away to a foreign country and never see anyone I know again. I want to join a monastery in Tibet and never utter a single syllable. I want to disappear from the face of this earth. I want to become lighter than air, a gas that just floats away in the atmosphere. I never want to have a relationship with another human being again for the rest of my life!!!!!” So yeah, that’s how I feel. I don’t think I will tell Mom. It’s just a bad night. I’ve had many, many, many of these. I will get over it. I suppose…
The only thing I can say is writing this makes me a feel a little better.

What a Man!

Anton is completely insane, but still my favorite!

Real Life

I'm not convinced anyone even reads this blog, although a couple people have surprised me...
Anyway, I am obsessed with documentary films. There are so many good ones out there! So, as a little holiday gift to my dear reader or two, I have compiled a list of my favorites (See links at top of page):

Crazy Love - a true life story of obsessive love gone bad, imagine that?!
www.crazylovefilm.com
Tibet: Cry of the Snow Lion - Chinese oppression of the Tibetan people
Flag Wars - White gay men move into an all black 'hood - DRAMA!
Maxed Out - American's have a debit problem, a big one
The Great Happiness Space - Japanese 'Host'(Escort)boys party and perform for rich women, a total trip
Dig! - a crazy rock n' roll odyssey about one of my favorite bands, The Brian Jonestown Massacre
Wetback: The Undocumented Documentary - the stories of immigrants from Central America crossing into the US, sad and fascinating
Devil's Playground - Amish Teens go buck wild!
Fahrenheit 911 - Michael Moore, say no more!
Who Killed the Electric Car - ironic to watch now, as we are bailing out the Big 3 auto makers...
Jesus Camp- reveals how freakish the religious right is in this country!

Call me if you are emotionally unavailable

I never used to think that I was one of those girls that had a 'type'. I thought I was pretty open-minded when it came to dating. Well, it turns out I do have a type, and a very specific one at that...
I like my men tall, dark, handsome, emotionally shut down and preferably with an alcohol problem! Bonus points for being at least 6 years younger than me, being from another country and speaking broken English. Extra bonus points for only telling me how much you like me when you call me drunk at 1am.

I'm annoyed

I am not feeling very appreciated by men lately. A Certain Person is not returning my texts. Nor is he available to come over quite as often as I would like! In my opinion he should be a little bit more into me, a little bit more enthusiastic about the situation. I am hardly asking for much here - I don't want him to be my boyfriend; just to flatter me, flirt with me and hook up with me maybe once a week or so. Its that too much to ask?! UGGGGGGGGHHHH. I have PMS and I'm pissed!
I have no idea how women manage to have relationships with men. No idea at all.

Rock the Cradle of Love

Last night at work I saw the cutest boy! I was doing my usual prowl through tables; refilling waters, chatting with clients, etc... when I spotted a very sexy, dark haired boy in red soccer jersey at one of the tables. Everytime I walked past he stared hungrily at me. I took to giving him coy, surreptitious glances across the crowded room. Finally I told my coworker; "That guy at your table in the red shirt is sooooo hot!" To which he replied, "Yeah that looks like your type..." (Whatever that means!)
He dared me to go flirt with him and ask him for his number. I was terrified. Then I thought about it more. What the hell did I have to lose?! I rushed to the bathroom to fluff my hair and reapply my lipstick. Greg (my coworker) was yelling through the door, "Violeta, Just get out here and do it ok?!"
By the time I emerged after powdering my nose and gathering my confidence, he informed me that he had already gone to the table and told them that "Someone here is interested in getting your number..."
I went over, blushing horribly, for the obligatory flirt session. There was a problem - the wrong guy was insistent at chatting me up, asking me what I was doing after work and could he get my number. I didn't know what to do; the dark haired boy couldn't look me in the eye and was intently playing with his plate of mac 'n cheese.
Later, I told Greg that the wrong guy had asked me out. To which he informed me, "Uhhhh... well, the guys at the table just told me that boy is 16!"
SIXTEEN???!!!! 16???!!!
Ok. Yes, I have been known to date younger guys. But I am not that much of a perv! He had a five o'clock shadow for crying out loud! He was the oldest looking 16 year old I have ever seen.
The rest of the night all my coworkers laughed at me.
I was a bit mortified. Especially when they told the manager what had happened.

Loca para ti (Crazy for you)

I have neglected to mention it but I have been sleeping with one of the cooks where I work. By 'sleeping with' I mean that we have sex like once or twice month. Afterwards, he immediately gets up and goes home where he lives with his brother. In between that we have a lot of drunken late night phone conversations involving me speaking bad Spanish and him saying things that he can't possibly mean like "Te Quiero" and "I love you".
I know I should stop it. But he is so cute! It makes me happy to see him at work; he looks so sexy in his white chef's coat, a gold chain glimmering underneath, in just a hint of chest hair, his smile revealing perfect teeth.
Its very innocent in a way. We hug each other behind the dumpsters - so no one will see (and because I just loooove dumpsters!), before I go home. He kisses me on the cheek. I don't think he has that much experience with women. He's 27 but he acts like he's 17.
The other day he told me "Tengo uno regalo para ti" and gave me a little leather flask that said 'Te Quiero Mucho' on it. It was hideous.
Today my friend came in to visit me at work. I pointed him out. I think he caught us staring. My friend couldn't figure out which one he was, I kept saying, "The tall one with the mustache" and she kept looking at the wrong one and going "That old guy??!!"
Later I asked her what she thought about him. "I don't know. He looks like a regular guy", was what she said. She's probably right.
Who knows why I find him so appealing?!