Spoiled
12/16/01
Spoiled Right
Alicia Keys - A Woman’s Worth
You could buy me diamonds
You could buy me pearls
Take me on a cruise around the world
Baby you know I’m worth it
Dinner lit by candle
Run my bubble bath
Make love tenderly to last, to last
Cause baby you know I’m worth it
Last night I got spoiled right by a good friend, and current international man of mystery.It’s been a bit too long since I’ve been spoiled so well and though my daily life has been spartan, I haven’t forgotten how to enjoy certain decadent elements.
I picked up cola boy around 7 last night. Cola boy is the same friend who nearly died after rocking over a vending machine which left him with the semipermanent imprint “Danger, Do Not Tip” indented on his forhead after highschool shenanigans. He’s also the one, some may remember, who hijacked an icecream truck when he was 9 and now works in the state department. As this is the last opportunity I may see the gentleman for the next 2 years as he will be stationed in Asia, I would gladly move the mountains to rendezvous with the knucklehead.
His first words to me after “Hello, you look gorgeous, I miss you *muah muah*” were “Hey, there’s a nice hottub at the hotel. You wanna? After dinner?”
Moi: “For shits & giggles, hell yes.”
Cola: “You have a suit?”
Moi: “Nope.”
Cola: “Let’s go get you one.”
20 minutes later I had a periwinkle bikini in my hand as we headed off to dinner.After arriving at PoshPlace we were told that without reservations, our wait would be 45 minutes or more.
Walking into the lounge we were immediately greeted by the hostess who told us “Actually, a table for two is available right now. I called this couple’s name 5 times. Here you go.” Chilling like villains and right next to a swanky cool jazz trio. They played the Peanuts version of “It’s Christmas time, Christmas time” for us.
Splitting a bottle of wine, cheeses, good conversation and trash talk, Cola said to me “Girl, I missed you, and I love seeing you here. This is your natural environment. Sipping wine, evoking elegance, and looking good.”
Moi: “Ummm hmmm no, I fake pretty well, my natural environment is really worn sweats, fuzzy red sox, thick glasses, and a keyboard.”
Cola: “Yah, whatever.”
I ate a cut of prime rib that was the size of my head. No really, actually maybe a little bigger than that. Incredibly tasty with a dollop of real horseradish…not just the creamy stuff. Cola had the pepper steak which he called divine. Our gargantuan cow consumption was followed by Dows 20 year tawny port, and a creme brulle which we split. I, like Amelie, adore the sound of that first crack in the shell of creme brulle. Any dessert that requires a blow torch is automatically cool in my book. One, two, *CRACK*. Delight, oh my nose, ears, and tongue.
Then it was off to hottubbing.
With my brand new periwinkle bikini, my pot belly from obscenely decadent consumption hopped into the tub and cooked for a few minutes. It was a delight and the jetstreams against my lower back were absolutely saucy. I hadn’t been in a hot tub in months and now I wonder why I haven’t made more friends with people who own hot tubs. Shame on me.
After long, delightful hugs from Cola, I departed for home, satiated from my forray into the “good life” and ok with the fact that I’ll be shlepping at the mall again the next day. Wait, did I forget to mention the massages? Those were awful nice too.
After sharing my Saturday evening with coworkers, I received the following reaction.
From Paris “Man, you are *Never* *EVER* allowed to bitch about your social life ever again. People don’t buy *me* bikinis. It just sucks to be a poor white man.”
From Ali: “Wow…so did you have sex with him?”
Moi: “No, he’s married! We’re friends”
Ali: “So wait, you didn’t suck on anything?”
Moi: “Ali, please, don’t use such language in front of parents and their children
So yeah, wined, dined, and hot tub blind but no other coochie deal nor drama. Cola is a happily married international man of mystery and we’ve been friends for too long to have sexual tension drama. We’re just uber-cool like that.
Santa Pimping Story Dujour
Harley Davidson Dad with hat, leather vest, dirty shirt, and boots brings similarly dressed 4 year old up to the front of the line. Awww, how cute! Kiddie Harley!
“Ma’m, Here’s $5. I just want to take my own pictures if you don’t mind”
“Sir, that’s fine, and free if you like. You don’t need to give me $5 for that.”
“Nah ma’m, you all work hard. Consider it a donation.”
His son’s name is “Bear.”
As his “Bear”’s turn comes up to go and visit Santa, like most 4 year olds, Bear halts, hesitates, and turns back down the ramp ready to burst into tears. Harley Davidson Dad promptly grabs his arm and swings him, actually, volleys him into Santa’s lap a good 4 feet away. Hmmm, same technique as common in free lance midget tossing from what I’ve been told.
Bear starts bawling in terror at Santa. Dad clicks away. I buy myself a hot chocolate with his donation.
And all is oddly right with the world.
Santa Pimping Story Dujour #2
Santa’s hours were supposed to end at 6:00 tonight. At 6:20 Santa is completing visits with the last few families still in line before being blockaded by security. Gasping frantically at 6:21, a family of 4 come rushing at me to beg that they be allowed to come and take photos.
“Sorry sir, the line is closed. We’re already over schedule.”
“But we thought it was open until 7.”
“Here’s a schedule so you won’t have this issue in the future”
“So like… a 5, um… $20 couldn’t change your decision?”
“Sir, have you ever had a cranky Santa Claus yell at you?”
“… No…”
“Don’t. Make. Me.”
My latest catch-all phrase for rude people during the xmas/ madness?
“Way to go, holiday spirit. Way to go.”
Min Jung
No Comments Yet