Employment 2010

This should be the last Christmas I write poems for people. My brother will be happy to hear that. Hopefully by next time this year, I'll be employed. :) Sigh, employed. Employed means giving real Christmas gifts. Can't wait to be employed. One more quarter of making fake ads before I make real ones. How soothing that word is, 'employed.' How comfy. How grown-up. I know I'm ready. Hope they're ready to hire me. (By the end of March-beginning of April, that is.)

Blind date

A loud-talker. Sounds like a Seinfeld episode, no? Anyway, he was. And I felt bad because how do you tell someone who you just met to use an indoor voice? It's impossible. I schemed of ways of doing so and failed. The bar filled up and still his voice reigned king. The bartender turned up the music to no avail. People gave me looks to shush up my husband. My husband? Instead, I rudely ate the delicious tuna tartare he paid for, and sipped my wine with a lowered gaze. Poor guy. On paper, we had a lot in common; a love for literature, art and food. But he greeted me with a brazen kiss and seemed to think my knee was a perfect resting spot for his palm during our two hour conversation. I smiled nervously and thanked him kindly when the bill arrived. Shrug. That tuna tartare was damn good.

Weird date

This one happened in NY. I don't recall how I met him. I think I was impressed by his Habitat for Humanity deeds, so I agreed to go out with him. I remember I wore stiletto heels and spent an inordinate time getting ready. I think I was just bored. Anyway, I remember we took the train to what seemed like North Carolina. It was close to an hour and I was under the scrutiny of homeless men. "I don't know why I'm dressed like a tramp, either," I wanted to tell them. When we got off the train, I looked around and knew I had left Kansas. I hobbled on my heels behind him, still with positive thoughts that I wouldn't end up dead in an alley. Long story short, he took me to a Walmart. Or was it a Target? I hope it was Target. "I just have to pick up a toothbrush, " he said. A 45 minute train ride to pick up a toothbrush that he could have bought at the Duane Reade (NY's version of CVS) on my block. Alas, there we stood in aisle 3, under glaring lights, staring at rows and rows of Oral B. I haven't worn those stilettos since.