The Nevada Gaming Comission didn't like that our gangbox was in the same room as their equipment that monitors the slot machines, so our crew moved up to floor 2.5 from the basement. It's okay, I guess; it's about ten feet from my contractor's field office, so the owner and superintendent, and a gaggle of general foremen and foremen are always about. Plus, the room is locked so we have to get with our foreman every time we need material. But that's fine...I don't let petty issues or drama rule my life. It wastes so much energy to get worked up over bullshit. And really, that's all it ever is: bullshit.
I learned alot. Mike's dad used to be in the Navy, so Mike knows a ton of knots and hitches. I learned a few; my faves being the zipper hitch and the half-hitch. There's a really pretty one that looks like a flower that aids in horse-riding but I can't remember what it's called. (Yeah, I know: pretty hitch. I'm a girl, deal with it.) I also learned the MC colour codes, and not just that red is for fire alarm. I learned the striped ones too. A little more about that damn elusive switch-loop but it's still confusing, which irritates me to no end. I figure a few months from now I'll look back and it'll be so simple, and I won't understand how it was difficult for me to grasp.
Guy, who taught my photovoltaic classes last summer is a general foreman for the Palazzo Tower at Venetian, and he says there's a new PV book out and I definitely want a copy. He says he'll hook me up. I can't wait. Aside from being extremely knowledgable, he's just an all-around nice guy. And speaking of Palazzo, watch for that tower (under construction, of course) in Ocean's 13, likely under a different name. I love insider goodies like that, in films. It makes it fun.
No joke, the best pizza in Vegas. In Nevada. Best I've ever had, and it makes me willing to go to Italy on my next European trip just to compare. There are only 15 or so in America, as it is, and only one in Nevada; lucky for me, it's in Henderson with is like a 20 minute drive.
Settebello is pretty small and unassuming...one hardly notices it across from Valley Wine and Cheese. But Tannah and I are both into checking out new foods and new places, so we stopped in one weekend. Honestly, I'm simply unsatisfied with any other pizza I've had since. The thought of Domino's or Pizza Hut turns my stomach now, and Metro Pizza is the only thing that's now "acceptable". But we only go to Metro now because it's closer; the price is actually cheaper at Settebello. (That, and the Stockyard at Metro is awesome.)
Okay, there are so, so many things that make this place incredible. Firstly, it was certified by the Italian government as being authentic to the guidelines of Verace Pizza Napoletana, or true Napoli-style pizza. Guidelines are strict: all the ingredients must come from Italy, and if there is a case that a product simply can't be imported, the Italian government must approve that ingredient coming from somewhere else. Also, the oven must be brick, and must be shaped and maintained a certain way. (The oven is awesome, it takes about a minute to cook. A minute literally, like 49 seconds.)
There are salads and appetizers too, and Italian favourites like Aranciata (which doesn't hold a candle to Orangina) and espressos and such. But the pizzas themselves are the reason to visit. Each pizza is individual-sized, and all but the foccacia pizza is made with a thin crust. Some pizzas aren't cooked--as in, fresh toppings like cheese and tomatoes on warm bread--, some have no sauce, some have no cheese. But it's authentic, and it's so rare to find such a place. I'm kind of glad Settebello isn't right down the street or I'd be there every night.
Saw my personal trainer Sunday morning. He really pushed me. You know that guy in the old videos that gets hit in the gut with a cannonball? I imagine I feel much like he did. I worked muscles I didn't even think I had. But I know it's for my own self-improvement. No one starts out at the gym feeling ducky. It's all pain and humiliation. That's okay; I give it a month, and it'll pass. And I'll have to step up my game, but hey, it won't be so bad once I'm used to it.
I made pico de gallo for the first time in almost a year. It's calming to hand-dice everything. Sure, it takes a few hours, but it's relaxing and the reward for it is yummy salsa. I mean how awesome is that? I will say that the onion I chose to dice was created in the depths of Hell; I chopped it in half with one swoop of the knife and it was agony. Hellacious. Ghastly. I was blinded, my nose was running, I was actually choking on the vapors. Tannah heard my cry of pain from the backyard as it tried to overtake me. Never had I encountered such an onion. If ever there was a vegetable set to take over the world, this was it. Luckily I vanquished it, and ate its delicious insides with tortilla chips.
All is well in the world.
Yesterday I had a really kick-ass Saturday. Firstly I went out to play paintball, seriously the first time in several years. My dad and Tannah go about every other week, and I told them I'd go once I found some kind of breastplate. My dad did, and now I owe him $25...but still, safety first! No more excuses, so I went.
I only got to play two games. The first one I was out in under a minute I think...it was pathetic. The second time I held out but the other team captured the flag first, so my team still lost. However, I hadn't taken my medication that morning, thinking that anticoagulants and paintball wouldn't mesh well. Add that to dehydration, and that equals sludgy, thick blood. So I kind of started hallucinating that I was at work, but not so bad that I didn't notice how "wrong" things were, so I sat out a game and drank a ton of water with a few aspirin. The headache and dizziness hit, and I had to bow out and go home. Disappointing but if I'm not thinking clearly I have no business wielding a paintball gun.
After a few more aspirin and a nap, Tannah and I went to see TMNT with Mada and his girl Merith, and Gordon and his son. Having been a fan of the original animated series as a kid, I loved the film, and rate it way higher than the live-action crap that came out years before. The voices were right, and the animation was smooth...good plot...all in all a great way to spend an hour and a half.
We went home, introduced Merith to Chef Ramsay via 'F' Word (I love the BBC), and after those two left, Tannah and I were itching for something to do. I've been restless for over a week, just wanting to get out, and so he finally took me up on it. We went to the Silverton to look at some pretty cool aquariums first. I miss our marine tank. We had a goofy clownfish and a boxfish, and the most kick-ass cowfish. The boxfish and cowfish are pretty similar (little cube-like bodies) and mouths like tiny donuts, but the cowfish had horns, and when Tannah opened the lid to feed it, it would spit water at him in recognition. As much as I loved my giant fist-sized snail, I really loved that cowfish too. And it died a horrible, pH-imbalanced death.
Onward...
After the Silverton, Tannah took the back way to Red Rock, all the way down Blue Diamond Road. We marvelled at how much Vegas has changed in the 20 or so years we've lived here, noting how much had been barren desert even five years prior. It's amazing how this city constantly grows and changes; it's like an evolution. I like being a part of it.
Tannah had never been to Red Rock Casino, not through all the time I spent there last year while it was being built, or after. I showed him Cherry, the tiny, overpriced nightclub with urinals shaped like mouths, and the center bar that was completely ripped off from the Wynn (except the Wynn has escalating staircases, which makes it much more posh). He was adequately impressed, but I think that was only because it was so nice for a Station Casino.
I don't know...I mean we didn't do anything spectacular but it was great just to get out and do something new. I really enjoyed myself in that sense. Maybe next weekend we can go check out the Wetlands Park...
Happy birthday, J.K.; we love you and miss you, even having only known you a short time. I know from personal experience that it takes but a moment to love someone, especially a child.
So, earlier in the year I decided to start eating healthy: more fresh fruits and veggies, more organic and whole foods, replace red meat with poultry and fish, and replace regular soda with diet. (I swear to you, Coke Zero and Diet Dr. Pepper are spot on.) Less sugar altogether, less carbs...not completely avoiding them, but just cutting down. And tons of salad! Aunt Debbie has a killer salad I tried in France, and it gave me ideas in making "exciting" salads: not just lettuce, carrot and celery. But arrugula, spinach, berries, apple slices, grape tomatoes, chrysanthemum petals, red wine vinegarette...it's awesome, and much healthier than traditional American chef's salad.
Tannah and I also started going to the gym pretty regularly. At least four times weekly. It's not exactly fun right now, but I know it's good for my body, and I'm far more awake during the day. I just feel good. Sure, I'm in a physically demading trade, for the most part, but it comes in cycles: for 3 months I might be digging trenches or pulling 500 or 750 wire, but then for 3 months I might be kneeling all day, making up boxes. Nothing is consistant.
I'm hoping I'll be in better shape and much healthier by summertime. It's only a few months away, but I think that's a decent goal. I just feel a driving need to transform myself. I don't know where it's coming from but I'm following it nonetheless.
It's become apparent to me over the years that there's a lack of understanding in relationships between men and women. I'm not sure if it's a universal trait, or if life is really so ridiculous. But it's sad, altogether. There are guys I've been friends with in the apprenticeship who, once married, are no longer "allowed" to speak to me. Why? I'm not looking to bed them. One, particularly, had an issue with his wife: I sent him three or four text messages about an upcoming exam. Seriously, it was legitimate. In fact, when I send text messages I send them with the assumption that they'll be read by the world. It's safer to think that way. However, the following school night, I was told by this guy that his wife had cancelled the text messaging feature on his cell phone, because of my "inappropriate texts". Honestly, they went something like, "hey test next week incls plc info/diags pg 10-34 & tables"...nothing at all insidious. There isn't even anything that could have been percieved as suggestive.
On the other end of the spectrum are guys who make it clear they want to be more than just friends, despite the fact that I'm married (or that they, too, are married); once I decline the invitation I'm met with hostility. Why can't I just be friends with a guy without it being percieved as something it's not? In my line of work, a good 90% of my coworkers are men, at least. Right now, there are no women on my site except for me. I'd like to be friendly, polite. I'd like to carry on conversation. I'd like to be open. But sometimes it's made impossible for me. Granted, I take certain precautions: I make sure I'm not alone with a guy off-site. It just looks bad, and I don't need any help in spreading the rumours that already circle jobsites. But I despise the fact that it has to be made more complicated than it needs to be.
Men: keep your mind on your work and not on your libido. Women: don't be so overbearing that he's driven away. Simple.
Not to be confused with business, of course.
So much that's been going on. Class was a blast, as always...it's coming close to the end of the year so we're all kind of restless. No one wants to watch safety films or do labs or anything. (I can't believe I only have a year left of my apprenticeship. It scares the holy you-know out of me.) And while I was in class, Tannah's dad had a graduation: he got a degree in medical coding and billing. His talents for detail will be well-used.
In a moment of sponteneous glory, Tannah and I actually went out on a week night. On a Thursday. A few guys from class and I got together and were originally going to hold study group but too many had to go early; therefore, we rescheduled it to 19h30, from now on. A late night, sure, but it gives everyone time to go home, shower, get something to eat...all that. So anyway, since last week's ended early, Tannah and I met with Sandra, a girl from my class. She's a lot of fun. We had a few drinks and she got pretty toasted but then again, I've had my moments too. (Flashback to my drunk moment at the Oyster Bar......)
Let's see. Friday we had extended family over as a celebratory deal for Tannah's dad. Salad, Mediterranean veggie chips, Irish beans, and hamburgers. It was good. I was tired, from Thursday still, and there was an issue between two friends that kind of sucked regally, but you know I can't deal with everything. They're both adults. And honestly, one of them was being childish and emotional in a dangerous way. I won't touch that.
Mexican swap meet, St. Paddy's food, Mudslides and White Russians, trying to coordinate Corey's schedule to mesh with mine...all in all, a very eventful weekend.
The Stardust was one of the first casinos I ever stepped foot into as a kid. Way back when Bobby Berosini was performing. At 02h30 this morning I woke up to what I thought was thunder...but when I drove to work at about 05h00 the dust was so thick, there was only about 15-20 feet visibility on the Strip. Then it clicked.
I remember watching the Landmark and the Dunes go down. I remember that when the Desert Inn went down, there wasn't an implosion party because it was only a month of so after 9/11, and out of respect they kept it low-key. I even remember Castaways (formally the Showboat) going down at 08h00, and how bizarre that seemed to me, until I remembered it was in a residential area. But now the Stardust, making way for Echelon. 50 years of Vegas history...it's actually pretty sad. And hate to say it, but when we were building the Wynn, I walked past the Stardust everyday on the way to my car, and I remember thinking, "I wonder when they'll tear this eyesore down?"
So for those of you out there that want to see it, here's the Stardust implosion.
Sunday I wore my D.A.R.E. shirt from way back in 5th grade. You know, "DARE to keep kids off drugs" and all. (Yes, that's really 18 years ago, and yes, it still fits.) So anyway, Tannah and I were out and this boy, probably around age 10 or so, stops, smiles and gives a very stiff and proud salute to me. At first I just smiled; I had no idea who he was grinning at--or saluting to--but his dad (or at least an older male that could have been his dad) gave him a questioning look and the boy pointed at me, at my shirt. The dad or whomever looked at me and nodded.
I've never been saluted, and I don't even think I deserve it. But it was totally cool nonetheless...even though D.A.R.E. didn't really work for anyone I know who participated. But that's an aside.
Firstly, my littlest sister had her 7th birthday party today. I can't believe how much has changed in those years. Incredible.
Je ne sais pas dire ceci, mais je devrais: Brynin est retournée. Elle n'a pas été ici dans quelques années et maintenant, soudainement: je ne sais pas vraiment quoi faire au sujet d'elle. Elle est très compliquée, et todo sobre sus maneras y creencias son tan madreadas. Pienso a veces que no es nada, que talvez, es algo que debo ignorar pero otras veces, yo sé que la influencia está allí. No me importa, realmente. En un sentido, no es serio. Debo realmente aprender entenderla. Pero en el mismo tiempo, no soy segura que yo deseo saber cualquier cosa. Pero creo que debo, sí. Definitivamente.
Más adelante, supongo. Tengo que pensar. Y es muy tarde, así que... necesito dormir. O realmente debo pensar de dormir, quizá. No sé qué hacer... Tannah sabe. Es una buena cosa. Espero que ella siga siendo donde ella necesita estar.
Brad Delp, the lead singer of the rock band Boston, was found dead this afternoon in his New Hampshire home. He was just 55. I saw Boston with my dad a few years ago, and it was one of the best concerts I've ever seen. They played the classics of course, and all of "Walk On". All of it. With a really cool "Phantom of the Opera" type organ set-up.
I wish I had more to say, I'm just kind of shocked. Yeah, it sounds lame but still: their talent, beliefs...wow.
On Tuesday I got the call late in the morning from the apprenticeship hall, asking if I could get down there to get my paperwork filled out and then over to the new contractor, all before 13h00. It certainly didn't give me much time; all my work clothes were in the washer, so I threw them in the dryer while I got my tools together, and left the house with wet jeans on. I was thrilled that the weather was balmy, and that I'd had the foresight to shower earlier instead of being lazy and putting it off.
Anyway, I got to G&G Systems at ten till...very good. Did more paperwork, watched safety videos and some union propaganda, got my new hardhat, leather gloves and safety glasses, and was off for my drug test. (I just wish they drew blood instead of making me drink so much and overcome bladder shyness...I hate urine tests.) But anyway, Wednesday was my first day. I'm at the Venetian, on a service crew. It's so awesome...we do little things like TI's (tenant improvements) and, say, revamping slot machine bays, or adding conduit somewhere. It's somewhat laid-back, and it's just me and three journeyman. The great thing is, they actually teach me. Even my foreman, Mike, said that he's run into far too many apprentices that aren't where they need to be as far as training, and he actually promised that I'll learn. I'm stoked.
Example: We're remodelling some office spaces, and I don't have alot of experience with that kind of thing. So I was running some MC, mounting boxes, and doing make-up. My journeyman, Tony, told me to look at the prints to add a receptacle under the window. I screwed around with the prints and finally told him I didn't really have a clear idea how to scale them. And just like that all three of them (Tony, Jason and Cory) all began explaining, showing me tricks, and it was refreshing. Usually when I admit I'm not sure what I'm doing, someone just takes it from me and does it himself, because it's quicker than showing me how.
Oh! Not only all that, but I'm working inside (!!!) and I don't have to wear my hardhat. Nothing's nicer than climate control and a hardhat-optional environment. No overtime, at least not steady, but that's okay. It'll give me time to study for the Clark County Journeyman Wireman Exam. <shuddder> We have to pass it in order to turn out after our apprenticeship, and get this: It just became a requirement this year. None of the fifth years have passed it yet, and I'm starting to panic. So are some other fourth years. So a group of us (or many, smaller groups) are going to start meeting to study, do code calculations, get reacquainted with proper formulas, things of that nature. We were all going to do it in one huge group, but no one can agree on the days to meet, and besides it might just turn into a huge boozing extravaganza.
Also, an afterthought: regarding the last post, I talked to my mom (via e-mail) and she clarified that she doesn't think that CCK doesn't apply to me completely, I guess it more had to do with she wasn't understanding how it applied, exactly. So...things are better there, too. Good times, good times.
TCK=Third Culture Kid: a person who has spent a significant part of his or her developmental years outside the parents' culture(s). Although elements from each culture are assimilated into the TCK’s life experience, the sense of belonging is in relationship to others of similar background.
CCK=Cross-Cultural Kid: is a person who has lived in—or meaningfully interacted with—two or more cultural environments for a significant period of time during developmental years.
A woman named Ruth van Reken (an author and an adult TCK) has a site on CCKs, in reference to the similarities and differences to TCKs...it was about people who fit the idea of a TCK but don't fit the lifestyle (like didn't move to other countries). And at the end there was a survey on multiculturalism and for the hell of it, I took it. She wrote back today and said that she was excited that I responded, because mine was one of the first surveys she had gotten back that was "true" CCK (cross-cultured kid) that was not also TCK (third culture kid). She says CCK applies more to international adoptees, children of immigrants, and refugee children, the main difference being that TCKs usually know they will return to their country or culture of origin (or parents' origin) but CCKs usually don't.
So anyway she wants me to write some life experiences specifically about growing up between cultures and how that affected me then, how it affects me now, etc. She's currently writing a book and says that there are more CCKs than TCKs and there's a need for specialised research. The site says TCKs usually know that they are TCKs, because of transition seminars and culture camp and such, but CCKs don't...they are just expected to assimilate. So I got her information and all...I know it might sound dumb but it feels good to have an understanding, and to know I'm not alone in feeling so out of place, even if no one else seems to understand, or even believes that it applies to me.
And I'll admit, that is an issue...my mom told me it doesn't apply. I doubt my siblings really feel as strongly as I do over it. And my dad, although incredibly understanding over our adoption talk months ago...well, I guess at this point I'm afraid of being told I'm silly and overdramatising it. Tannah understands; maybe not completely but he empathises, at least. I'm told that multiculturalism wasn't prevalent in my life while growing up; maybe not outwardly, but I did identify alot with the German aspect of my birth heritage and it was difficult to adjust when I renounced it upon being adopted when I was fourteen. I didn't say anything then because I felt I had no right, that I should be happy to renounce as I was so wholly accepted and loved otherwise, and part of me wanted to just forget everything from Before. I buried it instead. It's incredibly confusing and hard to explain, and I don't expect most to really understand (seeing as I can't come up with an adequate explanation) but...it just is. In fact, very few have ever been able to really understand it except people I've met who've been in similar situations.
I hate talking about things like this because I feel like a traitor. A silly, ungrateful traitor. Believe me, if I could erase my childhood and start over at my adoption, I would. But I was too old already. I can try to forget all I want but it's still there, just buried. I can't wear a mask forever, as much as I'd like to try. And yeah, I really hate how whiny-princess this sounds. But after sitting here so long, I really can't think of another way to write it.
For anyone who feels they may fit into the category of a CCK (or TCK for that matter), read the information presented here, and then please consider filling out the short survey...for the sake of research and understanding!
[Note: I stole this post from the site Tannah runs with his brother and their friend; I'm using it here because, well, I was at the show, too. In fact, I'm Mrs. Jango. :) Read the original, much better version here.]
Well, a co-worker of mine was able to get my wife and me some comp tickets to see “Mel Brooks' Musical Comedy The Producers” at the Paris Casino yesterday. That’s the nice perk about knowing-someone-who-knows-someone who can get you (2x) $110 tickets to a Las Vegas show. For the 17 years that I have lived in Vegas, I’ve only had to pay for 1 show and that was The Magic of Lance Burton back at my high school prom. I was excited the score some freebie tickets because I was planning on taking Mrs. Jango to check out the musical this April. (Pocketed $220 dollars!)
I’ve never really been a fan of musicals or Mel Brooks' movies with the exception of “Space Balls”. All of his movies are too silly and Mel Brooks has a way of blowing any good movie with his horrible endings. So, even though the hype around “The Producers” is huge, I definitely had my reservations about it. I sure you’re wondering why I was even remotely interested in “The Producers”; well it’s quite easy. It’s only 5 little syllables: David Hasselhoff.
Yeah, you read it right, DAVID FUCKING HASSELHOFF!!! From my perspective, it’s a win/win situation. Free tickets + David Hasselhoff + good show = Win! (Or) Free tickets + David Hasselhoff + train wreck = Win! No matter how I did the math, I was going to have a great time because David Hasselhoff would be fun to watch on stage: good or bad. Who doesn’t want to see Michael Knight on stage, singing and dancing? Hell, David Hasselhoff is coolest thing to come out of Hollywood since movie cameras, drug use and hookers. I don’t mean just any normal-kind-of-cool, I’m talking about Germany’s prodigal saint with handsome good looks, open chest full of man hair, in a completely hetero, in his own league, Baywatch kind of cool. Damn, he’s ice cold…
So yesterday evening, Mrs. Jango and I went to Le Théâtre des Arts at the Paris, Las Vegas. It’s a small theater, but I still like it. We saw “We Will Rock You” at the same theater, a couple years earlier and that show was okay but it was too much of a cheesy Vegas production. “The Producers” on the other hand was far more…professional.
The dialogue was witty and the some of the visuals were downright hilarious. “The Producers” totally lives up to the hype. I laughed with David Hasselhoff’s hilarious entrance as Roger DeBris, the very flamboyant gay director, in a full evening gown. This had to be one of the funniest things I have ever seen on stage next to the synchronized, rotating swastika during the performance of “Spring Time for Hitler”. I really enjoyed the music and no one ruined my bliss with horrible singing or acting. For a brief moment, I didn’t feel like I was watching a Vegas performance, but watching a real Broadway musical. I have to take back most of the bad things I’ve said about Mel Brooks.
Now I want to plan a trip to New York and watch a real Broadway show.
Here it is, it'll be published in the Las Vegas Review Journal (LVRJ) on Monday. A recap:
Corey Levitan is a columnist for the RJ, and writes a weekly column called "Fear and Loafing in Las Vegas". Every week he takes suggestions for a "job" to do for one day...he's been a nude model, a bathroom attendant at a gay bar, a light-bulb changer at the Fremont Street Experience, a construction worker, and the list goes on. And on.
When someone suggested he be a minister, he wrote to over 300 churches of various denominations, and only received one response back, that being from Community Lutheran Church. (The church my parents, youngest sister, Tannah and I attend.) He only did the early Sunday service, and my parents and sister had gone to the Saturday night service, but Nathan and I saw him there, and although it was a few weeks ago, the story and video were just posted on the site today.
I think it's awesome that, even as a non-Christian, he could do this with such an open mind...he was very professional, and I'm not certain many other people could do it. Either their own beliefs would get in the way, or pride, or disdain for other beliefs. I just think it's refreshing. And what an awesome way to get the word out on the street!
Funny story: our foreman, Mark, was giving Santi his final lay-off check...I mean we all knew the lay-offs were coming, the WRF is almost done and there aren't alot of jobs to transfer to. I saw that and realised I had Santi's holesaw from a few days ago so I ran to go get it. When I gave it to him, I noticed my safety glasses were scratched up and I asked Mark, "Hey, when you get a sec, can you get me another pair?" And Santi said "You'll prolly get a new pair Monday" and that's when Mark handed me my check.
I was just beginning (today!) to learn how to bend rigid conduit....damn it all to hell!
But it wasn't for cause, it was a reduction in force, and I am eligible for rehire so I was like "Yeah I'll sign the book and get out on Monday or so." Except there's a page and a half of apprentices before me...so it looks like I get a few days off. :) But I'm glad I didn't wait till Monday to sign: when I called the apprentice job hotline Friday night to see how many calls there were, there were none...and there was a message that all newly-indentured apprentices were to come for first sign-in Monday morning. If I'd had the misfortune to sign after them, I could have been out of work for quite a while.
With my luck I'll be sent to Titan...or worse, back to the Rock. Or with irony, I'll go back to the Palms but I seriously doubt that. I guess I'll see. I really don't like the waiting game, though.
In other news, I got so irritated by my constant feeling like shit that I spent the $50 and got an awesome carbon monoxide detector. I was having alot of symptoms that eased or disappeared altogether once I left the house. I spent half and hour screwing around with it, testing every room and the garage...nothing. Then it hit me: I feel a mild version of this when I'm at Tannah's parents' house. (I'm allergic to their dog, China.) So I took and allergy pill and it wasn't an hour before I felt pretty close to normal. I hate allergies. I hope I'm allergic to that ugly olive tree in the front yard so we have an excuse to have it turned into mulch.
Yeah, no posts in quite awhile. That's okay. I've just been feeling like shit. Sore throat, fatigue, some minor nausea. Yeah, I took a pregnancy, test; that's not it. I've been taking thousands of milligrams of vitamin C and zinc, too. It feels like a mild flu, except that nothing works.
I did manage to go to Costa del Sol on Thursday, with the guys. Since I'd missed going last Thursday, I took Tannah there last Saturday, so I could try the linguine and clams, and it was pretty good but not nearly of the divine nature everyone made it out to be. So this time, I was out to try something different.
Except first, Santi bought me a drink: Grey Goose and cranberry. I didn't feel too bad, he buys everyone a drink. But I downed it and before I knew it, he'd ordered me another and had already paid for it. They aren't cheap. So feeling obligated, I sipped it as we walked (well, I staggered) to the Oyster Bar. I knew I was feeling happy...not quite huggy, but getting there. I could feel I was just a little obnoxious, and I hated that, I really don't like losing control, but it was already done. Neph got shrimp scampi over linguine, and even though I was sitting between Matt and Santi, what they ordered didn't sound like as much fun (bouillebaisse and house roast, respectively). I was happy with my choice; hell, I was giddy with it. And maybe it was the drinks but I think that was the best pasta I've ever had.
Then came my drunk moment. Matt and I joke around all the time at work, and when our bills came, we paid (as one does). I set my bill down and he set his on top of mine and I looked at him and said, "I'm on top, bitch!" Oh horror of horrors, but he burst out laughing, and so did everyone else...still, I'm never getting two drinks with my crew again. I know I'll hear about this for as long as I'm on the jobsite.
