I’m lazily battling through finals right now, with revisions on one paper, and another paper and presentation on queer Jews due Monday, as well as one shift tonight and three more interviews to bully people into in the next three days which really should have been done days if not weeks ago but you wouldn’t believe how hard it is to get people to answer questions over email. Like, impossible. And I still have to figure out what to write about for Israel/Palestine but I have a week and a half on that one, so I’m not too worried.
Unlike class work has been a breeze for the past two weeks (I know, despite my dire declarations to the contrary. I’m always proven wrong by midnight.) both fun and profitable. And usually weird.
Last night I had a really sweet customer, but despite his sweetness I couldn’t shake the feeling he was going to try to eat me when my back was turned. I’m not being lewd here, I’m talking chewing-my-flesh-off-my-shoulders eat. Eventually he ran out of money and the feeling was too stressful to handle for free, so we parted ways. Maybe he’ll be back.
Tuesday Regan and I were in back playing games–if I’m giving you the idea that that’s all we do, I’m sorry. For a while there it was the most interesting thing to happen but that’s changed!–and one of the bouncers came back and whispered something in the bar backs ear.
“No!” he said, sounding scandalized.
Bouncer nodded grimly.
The bar back sighed, grabbed some paper towels, and walked out.
I looked at Regan, who had her eyebrows raised practically to her hairline.
“let’s go be nosy strippers,” she suggested.
We got out there and bouncer one is lecturing a sleazy looking bald man with a pointy soul patch. Boring.
The waitress appeared.
“and then I hear them snorting and I was just like, ‘you can’t do that!’ and I got the bouncer.”
“someone was doing blow,” Regan concluded.
“someone is always doing blow,” I answered. “I thought this would be more exciting!”
“well, then they left and I went in and they left it on the back of the toilet!” the waitress elaborated.
“I think it was because he was in such a hurry to get out.”
“wait, that guy?”
And then the story came out coherently. The bald man was making out with/having some kind of sexy time with a girl (not a dancer) in the women’s bathroom and cutting up lines when the waitress walked in and heard them.
“really? the women’s bathroom? come on! it’s not like the parking lot is far, or like people don’t make out in the actual club all the time!”
“and then when I yelled at them they ran out without their coke and I found it on the back of the toilet.”
The bouncer got done lecturing and kicked the guy out. His lady friend was already gone. Excitement over I wandered back to the dressing room to finish losing (badly) at word scramble.
Now I’m trying to work up the energy to take my computer in to the Mac store and get one of the books I need from the library. A few days after I got my new computer–the one i need to take in today–in March, a customer at work came up to me excitedly.
“I saw you at my work! You were buying a computer!”
Strippers. We exist in The Real World too! At the mall and everything! buying laptops!
“I wanted to say hi to you but it was too crowded!”
“um, I’m glad you didn’t because that would have been inappropriate. I just wanted to buy my computer.”
This was totally rude and alienating, apparently, and now, with the potential of having to deal with a wounded and sulky customer while just trying to get my laptop fixed, taking the damn thing in has reached the magnitude of an epic quest, something that will require fortitude and bravery and probably some makeup.