Ohmigodandthenhesaid

Let's pretend that I am a 16 year old girl for just a second so I can tell you these silly stories without feeling like a total jackass.

The other day I was standing at the front counter at Gregg's hanging up some shorts and this family was leaving with ALL this gear for their little boy's birthday- helmet, tricycle, gloves, flag, streamers, etc. I had seen them around the store for about an hour and knew they were all paid up but your bike sales person is supposed to walk you to the door and as they were leaving Super Cute Glen came trotting up behind them to let me know they were OK. I talked to the Dad and Glen gave me a thumbs up so I gave him a thumbs up and then he gave me two thumbs up so I gave him two back. AND THEN HE CAME OVER BEHIND THE COUNTER TO TALK TO ME. OHMIGOD I NEARLY DIED. Not to talk to Bridget (a nice girl I work with on Sundays), not to ring up a customer, but to talk to ME. Holy shit. So we chatted a bit about why he was leaving Gregg's (to take a job working with troubled youth- is this not a cool guy?) and how he'd still be at Gregg's on Sundays and he stayed to ring up some folks and he didn't leave until I had to answer the phone. And THEN as I was leaving my lunch break I ran into Luke leaving the store and he told me I'd missed a great party the night before (which Bridget told me ended up being a total "shit show") and how Harrison's "naked cock" had been bandied about. I don't need to see that. I am 30 years old, for chrissake. I don't even need to hear the words "Harrison's naked cock" and told him as much. So as I'm saying that Glen's coming up to take HIS lunch break and he hears it and looks at me and whispers the magic words. I made the proper horrified face and then tried to devise a strategy that would allow me to stay in the break room a bit longer. It involved me spilling water all over the floor so that was smooth. In another attempt to hang around a bit I remembered that I had met a guy named Rainer that morning at the triathalon (B&A and I did a relay Sunday morning) and I work with a kid named Rainer, whose name I thought was made up and who happened to be in the break room with Glen, and so I said something to Rainer about it. As I was headed back downstairs I heard Glen say, "How did she meet a guy named Rainer this morning?" I don't care what he was insinuating. The fact that he paid me any mind was positively exhilirating. And yes I am a totally pathetic.

AND THEN. I stopped in at Gregg's yesterday on the way home to check the schedule because I had this feeling the manager hadn't given me Sunday off (it's so crappy- they ask you to put your requests in this book so they can schedule your time off and then they ignore it) and I was totally right. Anyhoo, I knew Glen was working but I also knew the likelihood of my seeing him was pretty slim. My only clean bike clothes yesterday were this hideous pair of shorts in which the pad is all lumpy and they give me camel toe and this giant triathalon t-shirt that I normally wouldn't be caught dead in outside my bathroom. So of course, as I'm standing there talking to Bridget about the schedule, Super Cute Glen comes down the walkway with a customer and a bike and shouts something to the effect of, "Hey there, hot stuff." Yeah. I think I turned 6 shades of red. I popped my helmet off REAL quick so at least I wouldn't be a bobble head and put my suave on. You can giggle here. When he came back in he asked me if I was a racer because I still had my number on my bike and the numbers on my legs from the tri. Too bad I had to say no. And then he wanted to see the schedule and he just kind of snatched it out of my hand but in a funny way, not a crappy way. So at least he knows he can joke around with me, right?

He's invited people to meet him at the Latona after work on Thursday and I was getting ready to make a big deal about finding someone to go to with me but after the schedule snatch I decided I could go by my lonesome. Maybe he'll throw me a bone or something.

Did I just say that?

Can you believe that at 30 I can write this much about a boy and whether or not he may or may not have even the slightest interest in me? A boy who is probably no older than 27 if I'm lucky and may have a girlfriend with crusty makeup (according to my new friend Megan). It is infuriating. I am not sure if there was a vibe. I thought maybe there was. But then again it may just be that we haven't talked pretty much since I started working there and so he doesn't know what to do with me or what to say. But to me it felt like a vibe. I'm so bad at this. I'm pretty sure he came to talk to me at the counter the other day to let me know about his thing Thursday but I opened the conversation by asking why he was leaving so he knew that I knew. I actually came up with a really good, non-creepy way to give him my number tonight when I went to pick up my check but he wasn't around. Fucking hell. Now I have to sit tight til Thursday and think of all the ways NOT to make an ass of myself just so I can see if he's just nice or maybe the tiniest bit curious about me. Why does he have to be so hot?

Tattooed Trauma

In February I started thinking about getting another tattoo. I was at a funky little store in Olympia and they had this gorgeous ring with a snake pattern on it and I thought, Man, that would make a sweet tattoo. So I sat on it. And finally decided I wanted that damned snake tattoo.

I actually stopped off at Liberty Tattoo one night. The guy was really cool and had some ideas about how to make my snake a little softer without being cutesy. I paid him a $20 deposit and left pretty happy.

Then I started thinking. Like did I really want this tattoo? Or was it just some weird itch that would go away after I got going? Like internet dating. Why was I getting it? Did it really have all the personal meaning I thought it did or was it just because a snake tattooed on your arm is pretty bad ass? Because I have not for one second regretted my Frank tattoo. But I was in the bathroom thinking about what I would tell my niece about getting tattooed and in my head I told her that after all was said and done I wished I only had Frank. So would I regret the snake? I could cancel and only be out the $20. I imagined myself cancelling and then feeling relieved as I rode my bike to the gallery opening I was supposed to go to that evening. But then I thought about how freaking cool I would feel with that damned snake. Which is probably not the right way to feel about it. Or maybe I just have this weird built up idea about tattoos because Frank is so meaningful. Whatever. I didn't think I'd actually regret getting it. I just didn't know if I NEEDED it.

I woke up the next morning raring to go and get that damned tattoo. But then. But then! The guy in Olympia who I'd emailed a few days previous about a bike he had for sale contacted me and told me it was still available. NNNNOOOOO. Now I had to make a choice. Bike or tattoo? I decided on the bike because I figured I'd get more mileage out of it. Literally. Of course, as my friend Bill pointed out, it really depended on where I was getting the tattoo. Anyway. I called the bike guy and made arrangements to go pick it up.

But then I started thinking. Again. Did I really NEED this bike? I already have two, one of which doesn't work. Yet. And I was going to have to take at least 3, probably closer to 4, hours out of my only day off that week to drive down to Oly to see the stupid thing. And what if I didn't like it? I couldn't get ahold of my friend Betsy who lives down there so I couldn't even turn the trip into a social event. Hell fire.

So I called my sister. She gave me a firm no on the tattoo. Not being tattooed she doesn't get it. And she gave me a firm no on the bike. Not being a bike lover she doesn't get it. She told me I should instead take my money and get myself a pair of shoes as I was literally walking through my favorite pair and the soles were falling off the other. So I listened to her and cancelled my trip to Oly and went to the shoe store. And found NOTHING. At three shoe stores I found NOTHING.

So now I am without tattoo (which I actually ended up regretting NOT getting). I am now without cool old bike with a headlight that runs off the rear wheel. And I am without new shoes. I ended up taking my money to the Snow Goose for some beers with friends. And that worked out just fine. But think how much cooler I would have been showing up at the Snow Goose on my new old bike with a snake tattoo.

If you're listening, please go check out Frightened Rabbit and tell me they don't rock. I kept hearing these songs on KEXP and thinking, Damn that's good, and I'd go look and it was FR. Had to buy the album. Also check out The Maldives. They opened for Bobby Bare Jr. last night at the Tractor and they were quite good. And they have the cutest mandolin player EVAH. Seriously. Unfortunately I didn't hear his name so I can't be all creepy and go find a picture of him for you. At any rate, lovely songs about missed chances and poor timing in love. And if you don't know Bobby you don't know me.