Christmas

Gawd! How I love the holidays!

Dinner Alone

My squeeze is out of town, which is fairly common in our relationship. So last night I went to a favorite New Orleans style eatery here in Tulsa. I sat at the bar. This was not a very good idea. First, the bar was really crowded, probably because this was the only place in the restaurant that allowed smoking - of course everyone who sat at the bar, myself excluded, was smoking. Second, everyone who sat at the bar, myself included, was old, or fat, or old and fat. The gray haired grizzled old fellow who was talking about his glory days playing football for the University of Oklahoma bragged of being 58 years old. Crap! I’m 58 years old.

The being invisible thing was working for me last night too (see blog below). The man who came in after me and also sat at the bar not only was waited on before I was, but actually had his drink in front of him before anyone asked me what I wanted.

There were two women behind the bar. One was a regular who called everyone “Sweetie,” and “Baby Dolly,” and “Sugar.” The other was a newbie apprentice who was being shown all the ropes, but seemed hopelessly confused.

When I initially sat down, there were two seats to my right, and none to my left. Shortly two very, very fat women sat on those poor stools, their butts draping over the sides. Both ordered frou-frou drinks like “Sex With Your Uncle on the Beach,” and “Mother’s Fuzzy Navel”; the kinda crap women who don’t like to drink order because it has a lot of whipped cream on it (not that either of these two needed any more whipped cream in their diets). Both smoked. A lot.

Soon other fat women began to arrive and greet the two already seated. When someone new showed up, she would step between the two already seated there, and those two would move further apart to accommodate her. That meant that big Wilma kept moving closer and closer to sitting in my lap. By the time the third or fourth newcomer had showed up, Wilma and I were beginning to look like Siamese twins.

Wilma had quite the butt on her. It stuck out like the busted lip on a prize fighter. The problem was, every time she turned toward her buds, that big butt, like a lobe on a cam, whacked up against me. Soon I was holding on to the bar with both hands so that I wouldn’t be tossed off my stool.

I had ordered oysters on the half-shell. Historically, oysters have been half-priced at that restaurant before 6 p.m., but last night, even though I had ordered at 5:15 I got charged full bill. My two $2 beers cost me six bucks too. See blog below.

The oysters last night were tiny, smaller than my girlfriend’s titties, and not quite as salty. When I had finished, the apprentice barkeep came and cleared away my silverware, even though I still had dinner coming. I wasn’t able to stop her because my hands were occupied keeping me from hitting the floor. Behind me, a drunk woman sitting at a bar table was going off obscenely about her lousy boss.

It was an evening to remember.

Invisible

Some time in the not so distant past, I became invisible. I'm not sure when it happened exactly, I only know that when I talk to people they tend to respond as if I'm not there. No, it's not just students either. It seems to apply to a lot of folks.

Today in Starbucks I ordered a Sumatra coffee in a ceramic mug, a chocolate doughnut, and a glazed doughnut (I'm on a diet). The cashier handed me a glazed doughnut and a cup of coffee in a paper cup. I said "I wanted a glazed AND a chocolate doughnut and a cup of coffee in a CERAMIC cup."

The cashier said "We don't currently have any chocolate doughnuts."

I said "Yes you do. Right... there!"

So she took back the glazed doughnut and handed me a chocolate doughnut and a cup of coffee in a paper cup.

"No, I want a glazed doughnut and a chocolate doughnut and a cup of Sumatra coffee in a ceramic cup."

It's not like I mumble.

It's not like they were exceedingly busy.

I simply have become invisible.

The Importance of Education

Yesterday was the day I scheduled for missed tests throughout the semester to be made up. One Intro Psychology student told me she needed to make up a missed test.

"Which one?" I asked.

"I don't know," she replied.

"Well, which one did you study for?"

"Study? Aha ha ha ha!!"

Excuse

"I missed the test the other day because I was in jail."

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

Computer Suicide

Yesterday I found a site on the web that had ABBA music. As I was downloading and listening to "Take a Chance on Me" my computer committed suicide.

There's a lesson there for those who'd learn it.

Retrograde

They tell me that Mercury is retrograde and that's why things are going loopy.

I guess.

What a day. My computer at school crashed and no one seems particularly concerned, other than myself. I kinda NEED my computer, with finals approaching and all.

Then, the CTYW (Concrete Thinking Young Woman) in my Human Sexuality class challenged a statement I made. I said "If I ask students on the first day of the semester to write down a question they want answered in the class, everyone has one. But if I ask people at the end of the semester what was the most important question they had at the beginning, most will say they didn’t have one. This is an interesting social psychological phenomenon." CTYW said "People will write down a random question in the beginning because you ask them to; this has nothing to do with social psychology." Of course, responding to a request just because someone made the request is called a "demand characteristic" and it so happens that it IS a social psychological phenomenon. I would suggest to CTYW that in continuation of her behavior in my class, "Just because you don't know what you're talking about, be sure to voice an opinion anyway."

Then after class PJ told me that he'd come to the last class late, found the door locked (it often locks itself when the door closes) and unsuccessfully tried to get my attention. Having told me this he then handed me the textbook I had lent him earlier in the semester to save him $100 and said "I won't be taking the final," and stormed off. Boy, I'll be sorry now. He sure showed me, didn't he?

Then there's the fellow who today denied that testosterone levels have anything to do with math skills "because it doesn't take into account free will." Can you flap your arms and use your free will to fly? Can you use your free will to rid yourself of congestive heart failure? People are forced to live by the laws of physics and biology until there's something psychological with a biological basis, and then they can just decide NOT to be schizophrenic, or depressed, or have a low IQ, etc. Choose to be a genius and you WILL be.

Here's something I've learned a long time ago. People believe what gives them comfort. Whether that belief is based on evidence or not is irrelevant. Teaching psychology is largely a waste of time for the faculty.

To quote Earl from "My Name Is Earl" that must be why we get paid so much.

Virginia

My squeeze and I spent this last weekend in Richmond and Williamsburg, Virginia. It was an exhausting three days and the Saturday and Sunday part put me in a viscous bad mood.

Squeeze flew to Richmond on Thursday for work related activities. I had to teach on Thursday, so I joined her there on Friday. To accomplish that I had to get up at 4:00 a.m. (I actually arose at 3:00) to guarantee getting to the airport at 5:00 for a flight that left at 6:00. I got to Richmond at 12 noon and my squeeze picked me up at the terminal with a nearly new bright yellow Mustang rental. Sweet!

She drove me to the hotel we were staying in, the Jefferson. The Jefferson is one of the grand dames of Richmond, having opened in October of 1895, and still going strong. It was beautiful and elegant. People were nice and very courteous. There was an afternoon high tea in the Rotunda. It was quite civilized, as I expect people and things in my home state to be (I grew up in Northern Virginia).

Friday night Squeeze, one of Squeeze's underling editors, and Underling Editor's husband went to a really nice, incredibly small, French restaurant. I was tickled that UE's husband took it upon himself to order the wine; all of it was French, and he mispronounced every name, totally without hesitation or self-consciousness. He was like a caricature of a Texas oil millionaire ordering wine in French.

Now I have to tell you that Squeeze is a bright woman. She has been successful in bidness, and is a college graduate of a prestigious private Southern college. But she's taking medicine, and I think it's had an effect on her brain. Two examples: When our entourage first entered the restaurant, all bundled up in heavy coats, the greeter said "May I have your coats?"

I replied "May I have your watch?"

Squeeze turned to me and said "Why? Does he have a nice watch?"

It's a joke, sweetheart, a joke.

Later, we were all commenting on a painting on the wall near our table. Some thought is was antique, others thought is was contemporary. I said "Well, here's the artist's chop." A chop is a signature used by Japanese artists and I was facetiously suggesting that not only was it modern, but it was made in Japan.

Squeeze said "Where is the chop?" I gave her "the look," meaning, "you gotta be kidding me." Everyone else had laughed, clearly getting my attempt at humor. Squeeze then says "Why won't you tell me where it is?"

Sigh. You gotta cut back on them little pills.

We arose on Saturday, checked out, and headed to nearby Williamsburg. Colonial Williamsburg is a fun, fun place. I've been there many times, beginning when I was in the fourth grade and several times since. I've always had a ball, so I was looking forward to seeing it again. Unfortunately, Sunday was the day for the official lighting of the Christmas decorations, and everyone on the Eastern Seaboard over 70 was in that tiny town last weekend. It was wall to freaking wall people. Stepping on you, stepping in front of you. Restaurants had hour long waits for lunch! It was catastrophic. Squeeze claims that she literally tried 47 hotels unsuccessfully before getting us a reservation at the place we stayed. That should have suggested something was amiss right there.

The second clue that there was going to be a problem was when Squeeze and I tried to shop at a local discount mall. Finding parking was impossible and outrageous. It really didn't matter if you followed some pedestrian to her car and put on your blinker telling everyone else "I was here first, this spot belongs to me." Other motorists would hang around that spot too, and if they could, would pirate your parking slot. Squeeze had that happen a couple of times. I was ready to get into a fist fight over it (I think I coulda taken the old woman with the walker) but Squeeze said it wasn't worth bumping fenders over. We left without ever finding a place to park, with Squeeze vowing to return again later (I have no doubt she was far more interested in that outlet mall than in Colonial Williamsburg).

Later, when we tried to have dinner, even scuzzy places in strip malls were running hour and two hour waits. Luckily(?) we found a place that seated us immediately. Unluckily, it was an hour between when we ordered out dinners and when we were actually served them. If I hear anyone else in the next week or two say "Thank you for you patience," I'm gonna belt 'em.

We left the hotel mid-morning Sunday, and Squeeze said "Let's go back to the outlet mall. It shouldn't be crowded now. Everyone is in church or sleeping in."

Actually, everyone in Williamsburg was at the outlet mall. We again had the same problem finding a parking spot and again got pirated. I was getting really irritated.

I said "Why don't you order whatever it is you want off the Internet, and I'll GIVE you the $20 you'd have otherwise saved."

Squeeze snapped at me. "Alright!" she said angrily, "We'll go sit around in the airport and do nothing for a couple of hours."

Go ahead. Find a damned parking spot if you can.

This is hell.

Finally she found a spot and parked the car. She announced that we should go our separate ways and meet back at the car in one hour exactly. I had nothing I wanted to see or buy, other than a cone of ice cream from Ben and Jerry's. I began searching for their store.

In just a few minutes my cell phone rang. Squeeze suggested that perhaps it would be prudent to meet after 20 minutes rather than an hour. Fine. Unfortunately, by the time I had located Ben and Jerry's it was so far on the other side of the mall from where I was that there was no way to get there, get an ice cream cone, and get back to the car in 20 minutes. It was like the climber who makes it to the highest base camp but can't quite make the summit of Everest before the storm sets in.

We reassembled at the car. For all that hassle, Squeeze had bought some makeup. As SUVs swam like sharks around us hoping to snatch our spot, Squeeze struggled to find her car keys.

Once she did so and we got away from the Dante's Seven Circles of Hell Outlet Stores, Squeeze drove like a crazy woman toward the Richmond airport, hitting speeds of 85 and 90 in a 65 mile per hour speed zone. When we got to the airport, she was out of the car and running toward the terminal.

"What happened to 'a couple hours in the airport'?"

She replied, "When I said that I was basing it on the time my watch said. I just realized that my watched had stopped!"

Note to Squeeze: With mechanical watches that are not self-winding, you need to wind them EVERY DAY or they stop running.

The plane trip home was a nightmare as well. Delays, delays, delays.

I don't think I'll ever go to Williamsburg again. What a pity.