Luckiest bastard on the planet...
...or how the most amazing and unbelieveable things just seem to keep falling in my lap...
Now Playing: Jay-Z vs. Linkin Park - 99 problems (Linkin Park remix)
First heard this tune this afternoon, but it's proven oddly appropriate for the events of the day... (that is, if I'm interpreting the lyrics correctly...) I think I like the Rick Rubin mix better though.
So the day starts out innocuously enough, I'm snoozing, not necessarily from a late night, but I was thoroughly beat when I got in last night. If anything, I went to bed early by my standards, around 2:30am. Slept in, figuring it was supposed to be (at least as far as I recall) cold and rainy, or perfect bed weather. Starting at around 5:30am, my phone started doing things, ringing, buzzing, vibrating on the desk, and all manner of non-sleep-condusive things. First, at 5:30, or 10:30GMT, it seems as though Laura's package has run into a little trouble at the London Stansted Customs bureau. Apparently, they're not exactly what I'd call thrilled about my valuation of $1 for her Titanium Powerbook, extra battery, external CD burner, dual position battery charger, and iPod Mini. so we're trying to figure out a way for her to get it out of/past customs without having to pay the 17.5% VAT, or "Value-Added Tax", added to stuff I guess brought into the country. We go back and forth on how to avoid this most unjust fate, even though on further reflection it was probably (ironically) precipitated by my putting the unrealistic dollar amount of $1 for valuation, with the exact intent of avoiding this very scenario. Ultimately, the expertise of a coworker or two of hers, combined with the assistance of an accomodating FedEx rep on her end got her the right verbiage to insert into a letter to customs, and as of 8:05am GMT, 3:05am EDT, her babies are released from their quarantine, ready to go home. ("On FedEx vehicle for delivery", in FedEx parlance.) By all accounts, she'll have the package in-hand within a couple hours of my writing this, and I'll be getting another call, this one celebratory (hopefully). Thank god, it's only taken me about ten months or so to find her a suitable computer...sheesh.
For fun, track it here. (Though it'll probably have been delivered by the time anyone reads this.)
After that, I get a few text messages here and there, then the phone rings with an unfamilair Charlotte number, and I almost don't pick it up...but who should it be, but the object of my pathetic flirtations two nights ago, and by some act of god nothing short of miraculous, she would like to see me, possibly for dinner tomorrow night? Uh, how's "Hail yes!" (we're in the south, remember, and when in Rome...at least that's my excuse for picking up certain dialectical idiosyncracies) for a response? Then I drift back off to sleep for a little bit, hoping desperately not to forget that a) I have an appointment not written down, and b) it's for 5:15 at the Fox and Hound. I finally rise from the dead at around 1:30 or so, positively euphoric over my good fortune. (As it turns out, I don't know the half of it, more below.)
I head out for a little bit to enjoy the weather (sunny and 80+ degrees) and get some groceries. In the midst of roaming Sam's club munching on breaded chicken and burger/french fry samples, I receive a call from T, tomorrow's date, noting that it's absolutely gorgeous out, and would I have time and the inclination to meet tonight on a patio or deck somewhere? How quickly could I say "yes"? Damnation, so much for not seeming too eager...(Allow me to take a moment and paint a picture of this magnificent creature. As petite as they come, standing just under five feet tall, shoulder-length blonde hair, blue eyes, and the most perfect proportions you could ever hope for, with an utterly sparkling persona, and she's got the hotness of a brain to boot...but I'm getting ahead of myself, read on.)
Perhaps twenty minutes later, Lin phones to catch me up on the gang's weekend concert (a Mr. Lenny Kravitz, the funky bad-ass jew) event, sounds like a fabulous time, sorry I missed it. Mention to her the prospective date for the evening, and how surprisingly hesitant and nervous I am about the whole thing; it's been forever and a day since I've been on anything even resembling an honest-to-god "date", and damned if I can remember how one is supposed to behave/act. I once had my high school journalism teacher and school newspaper advisor (so she arguably knew me better than most teachers, and yes, I was a school paper geek back then...it wasn't pretty, I assure you, let's not talk about it, yeah?) tell me that I and pretty much the whole crowd I ran with were "social retards". Yep, I've not come terribly far in the fifteen years since. Lin, amazing individual that she is, gave me her supportive perspective on the matter, imparting select nuggets of wisdom and clarity, but one of which was to not focus on the outcome, but to just go, be myself and hope for nothing but an enjoyable time. Prophetic words, indeed.
Upon return home, get a call from ham, turns out news travels fast, and he's calling to express regards, and more importantly, the necessity of my obtaining and switching to a Charlotte local number.
Call T to see where she'd like to meet, and suggest ilios noche, a reputed hotspot for italian-greek fusion cuisine. She agrees, and we arrange to meet there at 6:30. Jump in the shower, pick out some random clothes (my lucky burgundy/grayish Armani dress shirt and likewise lucky gap jeans), splash on a bit of the Hugo, and haul ass to get over there in time. Sure enough, for what is very possibly the very first time in history I'm actually five minutes early for a first date, I arrive to her smiling visage on the outdoor seating area of the aforementioned dining establishment. Coincidentally, we're waited on by none other than hottie fitness Kel, whom I had just parted company with not seventeen hours earlier. We chat and chat and chat, having a marvelous time. So much so that I absolutely fail to gauge the passage of time, and closing the place down. We decide to head over to Hickory Tavern a few doors down, where we're able to continue on their patio, also outdoors. Invite Kel to join us when she's done, and sure enough she does, we all talk and drink for a while, the girls seem to hit it off, Kel heads home, and T and I lounge about for a while longer. Unfortunately, despite every intention on my part to not keep her out overly late on a school night, I didn't get home until 1:30, I'd imagine she was 10 or 15 minutes later than that. Sorry T, hope you'll allow me to make it up to you.
Yet another amazing aspect of how all this has come together is that T claims to have been in a bit of an alcohol-induced haze Saturday night, and apparently has very little recollection of the events of the wee hours. Apparently, she didn't realize that I gave her my number, or having kissed me, and subsequently went to some lengths to try and divine my number (calling people, web searches and such) before she "discovered" my card. Any number of variables could have hopelessly shifted the chain of events that led to this evening. Mindboggling.
To summarize, easily the best first date I've ever had to date. Yum. This is definitely the start of a beautiful friendship; great things will come from this, I have a good feeling. What a find. Skippy, there must be something to that whole faith thing you talked about, after all. In my case it's an absolutely blind, yet unwavering faith in this increasingly charmed life I seem to have, here's to hoping that there's enough good fortune to go around/rub off on those around me. Doo, doo, doo, doo doo doo, doo, indeed.
The downside to all this is that taxes are still no closer than being done than they were three days (or three years, for that matter) ago. Unfortunately, the rest of the week is shaping up to not be any more productive in that arena. I should just look at the W2 for the year that drops off as of the 15th, and cry myself to sleep as to how much it's going to cost me, and not worry about getting them done in time, 'cause it's just not going to happen. Alas, it is what it is.
Oh, and for the record and posterity, the "perceived chemistry" spoken of a few nights ago, turns out to be attributable to BOTH the alcohol and a preponderance of that elusive "electric chemistry". You start with nonverbal communication, and come full circle right back to the nonverbal. The thrill of the chase is an addictive rush, even if it is distressingly abbreviated. For you Swingers fans, the quote of the day is:
"So two days?"
"Definitely, two days is like industry standard."
Truer words have nary been spoken, my friends. Off to bed, it's going to be a busy week.
Now Playing: Jay-Z vs. Linkin Park - 99 problems (Linkin Park remix)
First heard this tune this afternoon, but it's proven oddly appropriate for the events of the day... (that is, if I'm interpreting the lyrics correctly...) I think I like the Rick Rubin mix better though.
So the day starts out innocuously enough, I'm snoozing, not necessarily from a late night, but I was thoroughly beat when I got in last night. If anything, I went to bed early by my standards, around 2:30am. Slept in, figuring it was supposed to be (at least as far as I recall) cold and rainy, or perfect bed weather. Starting at around 5:30am, my phone started doing things, ringing, buzzing, vibrating on the desk, and all manner of non-sleep-condusive things. First, at 5:30, or 10:30GMT, it seems as though Laura's package has run into a little trouble at the London Stansted Customs bureau. Apparently, they're not exactly what I'd call thrilled about my valuation of $1 for her Titanium Powerbook, extra battery, external CD burner, dual position battery charger, and iPod Mini. so we're trying to figure out a way for her to get it out of/past customs without having to pay the 17.5% VAT, or "Value-Added Tax", added to stuff I guess brought into the country. We go back and forth on how to avoid this most unjust fate, even though on further reflection it was probably (ironically) precipitated by my putting the unrealistic dollar amount of $1 for valuation, with the exact intent of avoiding this very scenario. Ultimately, the expertise of a coworker or two of hers, combined with the assistance of an accomodating FedEx rep on her end got her the right verbiage to insert into a letter to customs, and as of 8:05am GMT, 3:05am EDT, her babies are released from their quarantine, ready to go home. ("On FedEx vehicle for delivery", in FedEx parlance.) By all accounts, she'll have the package in-hand within a couple hours of my writing this, and I'll be getting another call, this one celebratory (hopefully). Thank god, it's only taken me about ten months or so to find her a suitable computer...sheesh.
For fun, track it here. (Though it'll probably have been delivered by the time anyone reads this.)
After that, I get a few text messages here and there, then the phone rings with an unfamilair Charlotte number, and I almost don't pick it up...but who should it be, but the object of my pathetic flirtations two nights ago, and by some act of god nothing short of miraculous, she would like to see me, possibly for dinner tomorrow night? Uh, how's "Hail yes!" (we're in the south, remember, and when in Rome...at least that's my excuse for picking up certain dialectical idiosyncracies) for a response? Then I drift back off to sleep for a little bit, hoping desperately not to forget that a) I have an appointment not written down, and b) it's for 5:15 at the Fox and Hound. I finally rise from the dead at around 1:30 or so, positively euphoric over my good fortune. (As it turns out, I don't know the half of it, more below.)
I head out for a little bit to enjoy the weather (sunny and 80+ degrees) and get some groceries. In the midst of roaming Sam's club munching on breaded chicken and burger/french fry samples, I receive a call from T, tomorrow's date, noting that it's absolutely gorgeous out, and would I have time and the inclination to meet tonight on a patio or deck somewhere? How quickly could I say "yes"? Damnation, so much for not seeming too eager...(Allow me to take a moment and paint a picture of this magnificent creature. As petite as they come, standing just under five feet tall, shoulder-length blonde hair, blue eyes, and the most perfect proportions you could ever hope for, with an utterly sparkling persona, and she's got the hotness of a brain to boot...but I'm getting ahead of myself, read on.)
Perhaps twenty minutes later, Lin phones to catch me up on the gang's weekend concert (a Mr. Lenny Kravitz, the funky bad-ass jew) event, sounds like a fabulous time, sorry I missed it. Mention to her the prospective date for the evening, and how surprisingly hesitant and nervous I am about the whole thing; it's been forever and a day since I've been on anything even resembling an honest-to-god "date", and damned if I can remember how one is supposed to behave/act. I once had my high school journalism teacher and school newspaper advisor (so she arguably knew me better than most teachers, and yes, I was a school paper geek back then...it wasn't pretty, I assure you, let's not talk about it, yeah?) tell me that I and pretty much the whole crowd I ran with were "social retards". Yep, I've not come terribly far in the fifteen years since. Lin, amazing individual that she is, gave me her supportive perspective on the matter, imparting select nuggets of wisdom and clarity, but one of which was to not focus on the outcome, but to just go, be myself and hope for nothing but an enjoyable time. Prophetic words, indeed.
Upon return home, get a call from ham, turns out news travels fast, and he's calling to express regards, and more importantly, the necessity of my obtaining and switching to a Charlotte local number.
Call T to see where she'd like to meet, and suggest ilios noche, a reputed hotspot for italian-greek fusion cuisine. She agrees, and we arrange to meet there at 6:30. Jump in the shower, pick out some random clothes (my lucky burgundy/grayish Armani dress shirt and likewise lucky gap jeans), splash on a bit of the Hugo, and haul ass to get over there in time. Sure enough, for what is very possibly the very first time in history I'm actually five minutes early for a first date, I arrive to her smiling visage on the outdoor seating area of the aforementioned dining establishment. Coincidentally, we're waited on by none other than hottie fitness Kel, whom I had just parted company with not seventeen hours earlier. We chat and chat and chat, having a marvelous time. So much so that I absolutely fail to gauge the passage of time, and closing the place down. We decide to head over to Hickory Tavern a few doors down, where we're able to continue on their patio, also outdoors. Invite Kel to join us when she's done, and sure enough she does, we all talk and drink for a while, the girls seem to hit it off, Kel heads home, and T and I lounge about for a while longer. Unfortunately, despite every intention on my part to not keep her out overly late on a school night, I didn't get home until 1:30, I'd imagine she was 10 or 15 minutes later than that. Sorry T, hope you'll allow me to make it up to you.
Yet another amazing aspect of how all this has come together is that T claims to have been in a bit of an alcohol-induced haze Saturday night, and apparently has very little recollection of the events of the wee hours. Apparently, she didn't realize that I gave her my number, or having kissed me, and subsequently went to some lengths to try and divine my number (calling people, web searches and such) before she "discovered" my card. Any number of variables could have hopelessly shifted the chain of events that led to this evening. Mindboggling.
To summarize, easily the best first date I've ever had to date. Yum. This is definitely the start of a beautiful friendship; great things will come from this, I have a good feeling. What a find. Skippy, there must be something to that whole faith thing you talked about, after all. In my case it's an absolutely blind, yet unwavering faith in this increasingly charmed life I seem to have, here's to hoping that there's enough good fortune to go around/rub off on those around me. Doo, doo, doo, doo doo doo, doo, indeed.
The downside to all this is that taxes are still no closer than being done than they were three days (or three years, for that matter) ago. Unfortunately, the rest of the week is shaping up to not be any more productive in that arena. I should just look at the W2 for the year that drops off as of the 15th, and cry myself to sleep as to how much it's going to cost me, and not worry about getting them done in time, 'cause it's just not going to happen.
Oh, and for the record and posterity, the "perceived chemistry" spoken of a few nights ago, turns out to be attributable to BOTH the alcohol and a preponderance of that elusive "electric chemistry". You start with nonverbal communication, and come full circle right back to the nonverbal. The thrill of the chase is an addictive rush, even if it is distressingly abbreviated. For you Swingers fans, the quote of the day is:
"So two days?"
"Definitely, two days is like industry standard."
Truer words have nary been spoken, my friends. Off to bed, it's going to be a busy week.
posted by Gene at 5:06 AM
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