You think you’re better than me?

Even though I've been up since 4:30 a.m., I felt compelled to write about my day because never before have I been made to feel less valued than another human being. And it turns out it's a funny story.

I spent the day at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway working the MotoGP for my parents' business. For those who don't know, my family owns a special event concession company that has the contract for ice cream, lemonade and pretzels at the track and other places. I worked an ice cream cart. (It wasn't a good day for ice cream sales. Ick.)

The ice cream prices are $5 this year across the board. Yes, I know that's pretty expensive, but you're at an EVENT. People make comments from time to time, but they can wait to get to the gas station before they buy their Dove bar if they really want. No biggie.

I've worked events for years, and I've never encountered such a rude customer.

A 10- or 11-year-old boy approaches my cart alone from what I can tell at this point.

Me: "Can I help you?"

Boy: "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's going to be a Dove bar with almonds."

Me: (Kind of confused as to what that meant, if he was consulting himself, etc.) "OK, you want the almond one?"

Boy: "Yeah, one of those, and hold on. That's what you want, too, right?" (Waving to his dad.)

Dad: "Yeah, two Dove with almonds. How much is it going to be?"

Me: "It'll be 10 dollars, please."

Dad: "10 dollars!!" (Opening his wallet to reveal a LOT of cash inside.)

Seeing how well-dressed he and his son were and how much money he had stashed away, I should have known this guy was only saying something to be a dick. Note name change from here on.

Douche: "10 dollars. Wow. You should be wearing a mask."

Me: (Still trying to be polite.) "I'm sorry, sir. I'm only staffing the cart. I don't set or have any say in the prices."

Douche: "What? I SAID you should be wearing a mask. You should have a better comeback than that. A mask. That's robbery."

At this point, I'm startled because I'm quite unaware I'm supposed to be coming up with clever retorts for customers. I gave him his change from the $20 he shoved at me, and luckily another customer approached, so I was able to focus on others.

Three more people came up to make purchases and the douche and his son were still lingering under my umbrella grousing to each other about how ludicrous the prices were as they opened the boxes to their Dove bars. After the other customers leave, it's now an obvious ploy to be able to stick around to cause more of a scene.

Douche Jr.: (Holding up his empty box.) "Do you take trash?"

Me: "No, I don't have a trash can at my stand, but there is one right over there." (Pointing to the trash can no more than six steps away.)

Douche: (Interrupting me.) "For these prices you bet you take trash."

Douche Jr.: (Handing his box to his dad.) "Yeah."

Me: "No, sir, I'm sorry. I don't have a trash can."

Douche: "I bet if we just leave them on top of your cart you take trash."

Douche Jr.: "I know."

Me: (Somehow, I am only now starting to lose my pleasant, customer-service attitude on the outside.) "Sir, that's really pretty rude."

Douche: "Rude? I am a guest of this track, and YOU are an employee. Here's your trash!" (Slamming the two boxes onto the top of the cart.)

They start to walk away, and I am completely livid and shocked at this point, so I call after him, "That's really nice for you to be so rude and arrogant and set such a great example for your son!!"

Douche turns and waves his hand backward at me while Douche Jr. rolls his eyes.

This was all before it POURED down rain and a giant tent came flying across Georgetown Road about 8 feet airborne in 60 mph wind gusts. Then it nearly flipped over the chain-link fence that encloses the track before getting stuck in electrical wires where it hung precariously until it crashed back down into the street about 20 yards from where I was standing. Fun.

Though the race ended six hours ago, my toes are just starting to de-prune.

Final note about the track: Men should never wear crocs.

My last blind date ... out with a bang

Date Lab is the Washington Post's version of "Blind Date." They take and review applications, match people up supposedly based on those answers, have you go out for a paid dinner and interview you after. It appears in the Post's Sunday magazine and online. They RARELY do a good job setting people up.

Web-troller Jen reads them religiously even though she has never lived in D.C. She begged me to sign up, and I laughed at her for actually finding them to read since she didn't live there. Eons later, I was bored enough to fill out the application, and I told her it was her birthday present. (Thank god I was bored because it was NOT a short freakin' application.)

That was in April.

Months passed, and I forgot about it … except for when my friend, Melina, asked me if they had responded. (She was slightly obsessed hehe.)

In June, I decided I was going to move back to Indy, and the next week, Date Lab e-mails that they had found me a match. Surprise, surprise … nice timing.

I was not going to do it since I was moving, but both Jen and Melina said I HAD to do it anyway. I finally agreed even though I felt a little guilty.

The dinner was nine days prior to my leaving town. The set up finally showed up in this weekend's Post. You can read it here.

According to the comments, fellow D.C.ers didn't agree with Melina and Jen's assessment. Thanks, guys. :)

Moving, lack of blogs, other random

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She’s just not that into you

I'll admit that I read some advice columns. A lot of times it's because during work, I have to go through newspapers to search for graphics or illustrations our company can request from contributors.

I had to share this one because it is one of the most hilarious questions I have heard from a situational standpoint:


Dear Amy: My girlfriend is a bit of a neat freak.

This weekend, things were getting amorous, and we were heading to the bedroom when I lost track of her. Her explanation for the delay was that she stopped to clean the cat litter box.

I found the mental imagery disgusting, and it ended my interest in cuddling.

She is completely unapologetic. She insists it's no big deal and that I'm being a baby.

I cannot get her to understand how unromantic it is to clean the litter box somewhere between passionate kissing and lovemaking.

—Upset Boyfriend

Dear Upset: I'm with you.

Also, when your partner denies that something you find upsetting should be upsetting, she is denying your right to your own feelings and reactions.

Even if she doesn't share your reaction to this, your girlfriend should confirm your right to your own feelings and do her best to see things from your perspective.

If your girlfriend can't imagine how this interruption would make you feel, then perhaps the next time she is feeling romantic, you should take a little "break" and rotate your tires.


I say it could be because she's making out with a guy that uses terms like "amorous" (ick), but no matter the problem ... dude, she couldn't have been THAT into it if she got sidetracked by the cat litter box. Seriously. You've got bigger problems.

Apparently I’m pregnant

Jemaine: "I made all of the ladies in the first two rows pregnant." -Hiphopopotamus vs. Rhymenoceros

Yeah, we were in the second row of the Flight of the Conchords show tonight, so the lyrics applied. They were closer to me for part of the show than my office mate in the next cubicle. It was awesome, and I didn't even have to make any effort for the tickets. Thanks, Mike. :)

For all of you who immediately clicked on this blog because of the title and its rumorous implications ... you didn't REALLY think I was pregnant did you? Hahahahaha. Sorry. No. No. Negative. Not.

OK, now that that's out of the way, great show. "If You're Into It," check. "Mutha'uckas," check. "The Most Beautiful Girl in the Room," check. And Nick, if you were there, this could have been you during "Business Time":

They asked if anyone in the auditorium could play drums, the room was silent, and it totally took this dude at least 15 seconds to speak up. I couldn't believe it. You could have been up there in a flash from where we were sitting.

And did I mention, I <3 Bret.

That's all I've got. Good night.

And she married the creep

"I scouted her out for a month," he said. "I wanted to see her routine, and I wanted to see what time she came in, see how consistent she was. And sure enough, she was like a machine. She would come in right after work and get on the treadmill and do her abs. And finally, I build enough courage after about 3½ weeks. And I said, 'I know you are going to go do some abs after. And do you mind if I join you?' "

Smoooooth.

Oh, these days of being skeptical of everyone. I read that and I think, "GAH! And I would be FREAKED out and change gyms. Immediately."

But no, this woman* marries the guy that bluntly admits he has been stalking her routine ... one young Alex Rodriguez. (He also apparently passes out at births. Puss.)

I guess I'll miss out on my ticket to millions. I mean ... if I went to the gym. ;)

*She says she did not know he was a celebrity at the time.

Airport hell

Friday night, my 10:05 p.m. flight turned into an 11:45 p.m., then 12:25 a.m. and finally, a 1 a.m. flight (and I wasn't even flying American).

I already felt a little subdued and blah from drinking a couple of pints after working all day then riding a bumpy as hell bus out to Dulles for about 45 minutes (not smart) ... and my dad now lives about 1.5 hours from the airport, so you can imagine the great mood I was in thinking that I wouldn't see a bed until about four in the morning.

I go get some food, waste time and when arriving back at the gate ... that is when I started feeling like Neal Page.

I went to the counter to check the flight status fearful because it was no longer on the departure screen. The airline agent knew nothing about what was going on.

Enter my own Del Griffith who quickly stepped up to give me the updates his BlackBerry was feeding him. I was happy to hear the flight was still a go, but I should have known ... He was just too eager.

We stood waiting for the news we were switched from a C gate to A terminal. "Come on, let's trek!" he says after introducing himself as Michael.

NOTE: I know this list gets crazy. Feel free to skim to not feel overwhelmed, but I had to list everything I could just for the sheer scope of it all.

In the 15-20 minute walk and shuttle ride, I learn:
-North Carolina is home for him
-He grew up in New York
-He's a rocket scientist, but now travels as an information technology salesman
-He has two girls and a boy, 8, 5 and 2
-If he moved to Indianapolis, he'd have Colts season tickets and go to the 500 every year
-The first 500 he watched was Danica Patrick's rookie year
-He's more of an F1 guy, but not NASCAR because the cars look like they're driving through mud
-His wife started liking F1 when he demanded to watch qualifying on TV
-Her favorite driver is Kimi Raikkonen
-His friends make fun of her because he's a drunk
-Her sports interest goes 1) figure skating 2) "American" football 3) F1
-She's a Patriots fan
-He feels bad having a second car since he travels so much, but he loves his Acura MDX
-He deserves it after keeping a Camry for 10 years
-He liked it so much he traded in his wife's 7-year-old minivan for another one

Here is how I feel on the shuttle:

When we reach the gate, I'm able to get away to use the restroom and make some calls to let people know how delayed I am. I tried switching rows of seats as a hint.

When he realizes I'm off the phone, he moves into my aisle and starts up again. I check the time ... still 1.5 hours to go.

The additional things I know about this man:
-His kids go to a private school that has grades K-12
-Elementary school students make banners for homecoming
-He's thinking of taking a teaching position there to stop traveling, and he'd at least get tuition reduction
-One parent working there gets a 50 percent reduction, both parents working there gets 75
-Trying to make finances work, but his wife would have to go back to work to do it
-She had a master's in health administration, but hasn't worked in nine years
-His dad was a lawyer that worked long hours and went to teaching to spend more time with him
-He was an only child
-Doesn't understand sibling rivalry
-His family has five cats
-His house has a walkout basement with screened-in porch that the cats love
-The cats all got along except Daniel didn't like the last one to come
-Daniel hates Wendy and bites her tail and it gets infected
-Their 2-year-old pet frog just died
-He thinks it is because she just laid eggs, and it really wipes her out every time
-He worries that his son should have a dog
-He had a British Blue cat as a kid that loved being brushed (he acted this out from the cat's perspective)
-The cat could differentiate the sound of the brush dresser drawer opening from others and would come running
-His oldest daughter doesn't get her room painted until she cleans it
-He'll have to paint it purple with a pink border

I'm sure there was more, but I can't remember it all. I have never been around someone that would just NOT STOP talking.

It was amazing. I may not know this man's last name, but I know more about what is going on in his life than I do about many of my friends.

This is how I felt when finally boarding the plane: