This place has been crazy today, packed with college kids cramming for finals. We’ve been a little bit short on help, too, having to adjust schedules for exams. Heather, the sweet, gorgeous new girl who almost (almost) makes a gay man want to be straight, had to take three nights off this week – two for rehearsals and Thursday night for a recital. She’s a music major focusing in voice performance, and she invited Wendell and me to the recital. Wendell’s probably going to go, but of course someone has to hold down the fort here, and I guess that’s going to be me. I’d like to go and see what happens when she opens up a little bit, like maybe she’s a little less reserved when she’s on stage. I’ve tried to get her to be a little bit less shy around customers, and I can tell she’s working on it, but she’s not quite there yet.
Then there’s Chad, one of our regulars, who might be the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in this town. I actually hit on him once years ago, or so he tells me – I must have been pretty wasted. I can definitely see why I would. I’ve been secretly lusting after him since he started spending all his time here, but I unfortunately think that he might really be straight. I’ve seen him looking at Heather, and if he’s not going to go for me, I really wish he would just ask her out and get it over with. He’s not like some of the other guys who come in here and drool over all the girls. There’s definitely something about Heather that appeals to him. I know he used to have a little thing for Dana, but who doesn’t – she’s, as my brother put it, “hot.” She’s a little firecracker, too. She’s got a mouth on her, when the customers are out of earshot. It explains why Wyatt’s been lusting after her; he likes girls that act like badasses. Wyatt pretty much likes girls, period, which is why 95% of the employees here are college-aged females. None of them are uggos, either, but I’m as much behind that as he is. Who wants to come in for a latte and find an ugly barista? Or barrister? Is barrister even the term for a male barista? I know barrister is the British term for lawyer, but it seems that it should be the term for males who brew coffee. I’ll have to ask that British guy that I’ve been chatting with online, maybe he’ll know…
I’ve been totally slacking off today, as I tend to do when Wyatt’s not around, which he isn’t because he went to the casino for the afternoon. He likes to play craps, even though I don’t think he or anyone else in the world understands how to play it. A far as I can tell he’s had pretty good luck with it, judging by the amount of coke he’s been inhaling as of late. I can’t judge, I did my fair share of drugs in college, and have been known to indulge in the occasional late evening blunt, and Wyatt seems to have his coke habit under control for the most part. He’s still able to function most of the time, and while I will admit that I am at times concerned, I know when he’s in a downward spiral and he’s not there yet. I am, after all, the one who sent him to rehab in the first place, the one who’s walked him to his AA meetings every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning for the past three and a half years. If things get bad, I’ll step in. But they haven’t.
The late afternoon rush is starting, so I’d better get back up to the counter and supervise things while I wait for Wyatt to get back and regale me with gambling stories.
April 30, 2007
The boys of summer
What a weekend.
Devon, Derek, and I spent the weekend getting settled in our cabin and getting hammered, instead of studying for finals, which is what I probably should have been doing, and what I probably should be doing now instead of sitting at Brews Brothers hoping for a glimpse of Heather. I only have two actual finals to take, one on Wednesday afternoon and one on Thursday morning, and I’m not too worried about either of them. All my other papers and projects have been turned in and I’m feeling good about the end of the semester.
The cabin that we’re renting is pretty sweet. It’s actually more of a house than a cabin and I can’t believe we’re getting such a great deal on it, but Devon knows the guy who owns it. He’s going through a divorce and was pretty anxious to get rid of it, but with the housing market the way it is figured it would be easier to rent it out to some poor kids like us. As long as we don’t completely trash the place, we’re in good shape, and it’s ours from now until whenever we decide to move out – as long as we give him a month’s notice before we move out and somebody’s paying the rent, it’s ours. It’s definitely not what you would picture when you hear the word “cabin”. There are two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen, and a decent-sized living room upstairs along with a deck, and then another bedroom, another bath, a living room, and a bar downstairs with a brick patio that leads out to the dock. Derek’s parents are loaded and have a couple jet skis they bought a couple years ago and hardly ever use, so we’re getting those to play around with.
The weather was gorgeous this weekend too, so we put the dock in and the boat lift – both courtesy of our landlord, whose soon-to-be ex made him sell his boat. Another good friend of ours has a ski boat that he’s going to stash at our place for the summer, which would be sweet even if he wasn’t going to be in Thailand for most of June and July, leaving us in charge of his baby. We’ve really got it made. We’re having our big kick-off party the week before Memorial Day, while most people are still around Sheffield waiting for their leases to run out before they move elsewhere for the summer. I’m hoping to invite Heather, but I still don’t want to be too aggressive. We'll have to wait and see.
Saturday night a bunch of friends went to Brew, this bar in downtown Sheffield, to celebrate Mark’s engagement. He and his girlfriend have been together for six years, so it’s about time, and in spite of the fact that yet another buddy is crossing over to the dark side, we’re all pretty happy for him. It’s a little bit depressing sometimes, when it hits me that everyone’s graduating and getting engaged and moving on with their lives. I know I’ll get there someday – not that I’m in a hurry to get married or anything, I just feel really childlike sometimes. I try not to think about it and just let things happen, and I’m going to live it up while I can.
So the summer of fun is starting out. I set my summer schedule at work on Friday – I work from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. Monday through Friday, starting next week. It’s only about fifteen minute drive from the lake to Sheffield, so I won’t have to be up before ten, and I’ll get home in plenty of time to grill out and start drinking and still enjoy a couple hours of sunshine.
Life is good.
Devon, Derek, and I spent the weekend getting settled in our cabin and getting hammered, instead of studying for finals, which is what I probably should have been doing, and what I probably should be doing now instead of sitting at Brews Brothers hoping for a glimpse of Heather. I only have two actual finals to take, one on Wednesday afternoon and one on Thursday morning, and I’m not too worried about either of them. All my other papers and projects have been turned in and I’m feeling good about the end of the semester.
The cabin that we’re renting is pretty sweet. It’s actually more of a house than a cabin and I can’t believe we’re getting such a great deal on it, but Devon knows the guy who owns it. He’s going through a divorce and was pretty anxious to get rid of it, but with the housing market the way it is figured it would be easier to rent it out to some poor kids like us. As long as we don’t completely trash the place, we’re in good shape, and it’s ours from now until whenever we decide to move out – as long as we give him a month’s notice before we move out and somebody’s paying the rent, it’s ours. It’s definitely not what you would picture when you hear the word “cabin”. There are two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen, and a decent-sized living room upstairs along with a deck, and then another bedroom, another bath, a living room, and a bar downstairs with a brick patio that leads out to the dock. Derek’s parents are loaded and have a couple jet skis they bought a couple years ago and hardly ever use, so we’re getting those to play around with.
The weather was gorgeous this weekend too, so we put the dock in and the boat lift – both courtesy of our landlord, whose soon-to-be ex made him sell his boat. Another good friend of ours has a ski boat that he’s going to stash at our place for the summer, which would be sweet even if he wasn’t going to be in Thailand for most of June and July, leaving us in charge of his baby. We’ve really got it made. We’re having our big kick-off party the week before Memorial Day, while most people are still around Sheffield waiting for their leases to run out before they move elsewhere for the summer. I’m hoping to invite Heather, but I still don’t want to be too aggressive. We'll have to wait and see.
Saturday night a bunch of friends went to Brew, this bar in downtown Sheffield, to celebrate Mark’s engagement. He and his girlfriend have been together for six years, so it’s about time, and in spite of the fact that yet another buddy is crossing over to the dark side, we’re all pretty happy for him. It’s a little bit depressing sometimes, when it hits me that everyone’s graduating and getting engaged and moving on with their lives. I know I’ll get there someday – not that I’m in a hurry to get married or anything, I just feel really childlike sometimes. I try not to think about it and just let things happen, and I’m going to live it up while I can.
So the summer of fun is starting out. I set my summer schedule at work on Friday – I work from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. Monday through Friday, starting next week. It’s only about fifteen minute drive from the lake to Sheffield, so I won’t have to be up before ten, and I’ll get home in plenty of time to grill out and start drinking and still enjoy a couple hours of sunshine.
Life is good.
April 29, 2007
I love weekends in the spring
It's a beautiful day here, so I think I'll be doing my "studying" outside. I use the word study lightly, as the main reason I'm going outside is to get some color. I've been looking a little too pale lately, the computer monitors don't quite give me the tan I want.
Opening yesterday wasn't terrible. It went by quickly, most customers were either just stopping by for their morning pick-me-up, or students glued to laptops. (I'm expecting this place to be packed with the students over the next week.) With the weather changing, the iced drinks are becoming more popular, so I'm slowly learning how to make them. Most of the time, it's just pouring the normal drinks over ice, or blending them with ice, not exactly brain surgery, but still something new.
After work, I went home and tried to nap, but the weather was too nice, and the neighbors were too noisy. They were out grilling, so the smells kept me awake, too. I called up a couple of friends and got a little cook-out going over at Charlie's place. Charlie is the only person that I know with a grill, but he's a good guy so it works well. I'm not sure about his girlfriend, though, she seems too flighty to be around that often. Plus her name is Tiffani, with an "i". I hate that. But she was tolerable yesterday. Dana came by with a couple of our friends, so we sat around and drank some beers while Charlie manned the grill. I offered to do the grilling, I can hold my own with the tongs, but he wouldn't have it, I think he was insulted by my asking. Whatever. If he has to cook on an open fire to feel manly, I guess I won't take it away from him. I just walked away, saying "I'll take my medium-rare, Charles." He hates it when someone call him Charles. Or Chuck. He only wants to go by Charlie.
We stayed there until close to 9, then headed downtown for some more drinks. I really needed them to unwind from the past few days, and to help relax before the busy-ness of finals week starts. It didn't take long for me to start feeling a little tipsy, at which point I decided to head home. I had been up basically since 5 in the morning, and was fading fast. I missed out on a friend's bar crawl, but I don't like those things anyways, so I took the good excuse to miss it. The extra sleep definitely helped, I feel totally refreshed and ready to take on the world. I think I'll start by taking on the lake. It'll be packed, but this is the first day off I've had when it's been this nice, so I can brave the crowds. I know a couple of places that are out of the way, so I'll try those first. I don't want to be antisocial, but I don't really feel like running into too many people I know right now. I just want to take the time to read and relax, and to enjoy the weather.
Opening yesterday wasn't terrible. It went by quickly, most customers were either just stopping by for their morning pick-me-up, or students glued to laptops. (I'm expecting this place to be packed with the students over the next week.) With the weather changing, the iced drinks are becoming more popular, so I'm slowly learning how to make them. Most of the time, it's just pouring the normal drinks over ice, or blending them with ice, not exactly brain surgery, but still something new.
After work, I went home and tried to nap, but the weather was too nice, and the neighbors were too noisy. They were out grilling, so the smells kept me awake, too. I called up a couple of friends and got a little cook-out going over at Charlie's place. Charlie is the only person that I know with a grill, but he's a good guy so it works well. I'm not sure about his girlfriend, though, she seems too flighty to be around that often. Plus her name is Tiffani, with an "i". I hate that. But she was tolerable yesterday. Dana came by with a couple of our friends, so we sat around and drank some beers while Charlie manned the grill. I offered to do the grilling, I can hold my own with the tongs, but he wouldn't have it, I think he was insulted by my asking. Whatever. If he has to cook on an open fire to feel manly, I guess I won't take it away from him. I just walked away, saying "I'll take my medium-rare, Charles." He hates it when someone call him Charles. Or Chuck. He only wants to go by Charlie.
We stayed there until close to 9, then headed downtown for some more drinks. I really needed them to unwind from the past few days, and to help relax before the busy-ness of finals week starts. It didn't take long for me to start feeling a little tipsy, at which point I decided to head home. I had been up basically since 5 in the morning, and was fading fast. I missed out on a friend's bar crawl, but I don't like those things anyways, so I took the good excuse to miss it. The extra sleep definitely helped, I feel totally refreshed and ready to take on the world. I think I'll start by taking on the lake. It'll be packed, but this is the first day off I've had when it's been this nice, so I can brave the crowds. I know a couple of places that are out of the way, so I'll try those first. I don't want to be antisocial, but I don't really feel like running into too many people I know right now. I just want to take the time to read and relax, and to enjoy the weather.
April 27, 2007
TGIF
Finally, the weekend. I am out of my last class for the day – actually my last class for the semester, since next week is finals week. April has really flown by.
I don’t have any real plans for the summer, just hanging around Sheffield. I’m upping my hours at work to about 35 a week. It’s probably a good thing because of the whole making money aspect of having a job, but it cuts down on time to be a bum at Shelton Lake outside of town, where a couple of buddies and I are renting a cabin for the summer. I’m sure there will still be plenty of time for boozing and boarding, and Shelton Lake is a goldmine for beautiful women in tiny bathing suits.
Mom and Dad want me to spend a few weeks at home, but I told them that I can’t get the time off work. That’s not entirely true – there are a ton of part-time tellers at the credit union that would jump all over my hours if they were offered up. I just don’t want to go home. Maxwell, my hometown, is alright – about 25,000 people, a nice place to grow up, just not a lot going on. None of my friends from high school live around there anymore, and none of them go home, and I don’t think any of us really consider Maxwell to be our home anymore so much as just our hometown.
Besides, this is my last summer of freedom before graduation, my last chance to really live it up before entering the Real World. I don’t want to spend it watching The Price is Right at my parents’ house and golfing with my dad. I want to spend it on a boat, or behind a boat, or wasted on the dock, which is what I fully intend on doing. I’ll visit my parents for a few days, and I’m sure my parents will come to Sheffield a couple times, but I’m not leaving for any extended period of time.
I stopped by Brews Brothers on my way home after class, talked to Wendell for awhile, and chilled out for awhile with an iced tea and a cookie. There was no sign of Dana, who is usually working when I get out of class on Friday, but Heather was there. She seemed pretty busy though, and kind of frazzled and distracted, so I didn’t want to bother her. She wasn’t humming. I hope she’s doing okay, but I guess it’s just that stressful time of year. It’s too bad I’m never drunk around her and in a position to use my liquid courage to strike up a conversation. Normally I’m not so nervous around women, but…damn.
I don’t have any real plans for the summer, just hanging around Sheffield. I’m upping my hours at work to about 35 a week. It’s probably a good thing because of the whole making money aspect of having a job, but it cuts down on time to be a bum at Shelton Lake outside of town, where a couple of buddies and I are renting a cabin for the summer. I’m sure there will still be plenty of time for boozing and boarding, and Shelton Lake is a goldmine for beautiful women in tiny bathing suits.
Mom and Dad want me to spend a few weeks at home, but I told them that I can’t get the time off work. That’s not entirely true – there are a ton of part-time tellers at the credit union that would jump all over my hours if they were offered up. I just don’t want to go home. Maxwell, my hometown, is alright – about 25,000 people, a nice place to grow up, just not a lot going on. None of my friends from high school live around there anymore, and none of them go home, and I don’t think any of us really consider Maxwell to be our home anymore so much as just our hometown.
Besides, this is my last summer of freedom before graduation, my last chance to really live it up before entering the Real World. I don’t want to spend it watching The Price is Right at my parents’ house and golfing with my dad. I want to spend it on a boat, or behind a boat, or wasted on the dock, which is what I fully intend on doing. I’ll visit my parents for a few days, and I’m sure my parents will come to Sheffield a couple times, but I’m not leaving for any extended period of time.
I stopped by Brews Brothers on my way home after class, talked to Wendell for awhile, and chilled out for awhile with an iced tea and a cookie. There was no sign of Dana, who is usually working when I get out of class on Friday, but Heather was there. She seemed pretty busy though, and kind of frazzled and distracted, so I didn’t want to bother her. She wasn’t humming. I hope she’s doing okay, but I guess it’s just that stressful time of year. It’s too bad I’m never drunk around her and in a position to use my liquid courage to strike up a conversation. Normally I’m not so nervous around women, but…damn.
Just getting home
Nothing like closing the library on a Thursday night. I'm such a loser. I was going to stop by The Brew (a bar, not to be confused with Brews Brothers) for a friend's birthday, but by the time I was getting to a good stopping point, they had called and told me that they moved on to a different bar, some dance club that I wasn't about to set foot in. I decided to be a studious girl instead, and got some more homework finished. I have a quiz tomorrow, so I prepared for that. It's in my music composition class, so I'm not too worried. But seriously, who gives a quiz on the Friday before Finals Weeks? I'm thinking it's just a ploy to get people to actually come to class instead of getting an early start on the drinking. Those lucky enough to not have to work at 6 am Saturday will be out in full force. I am not lucky enough to not have to work at 6 am on Saturday.
Great. Dana just called me to see if I could fill in for a few hours tomorrow morning. Through her slurred speech, she said something about going to an after hours party somewhere, and that she probably wouldn't be able to make it in at 10. As long as she's there by noon, it'll be alright, I guess. I just can't be late for my 12:30 class. I'm going to walk out of there at noon, whether Dana shows up or not. She's lucky that I was still up, and lucky that I'm desperate for hours.
Tomorrow's going to be a long day, and an early night. I can already feel the cranky mood coming. Such is the my life.
And on that, I'm going to bed.
Great. Dana just called me to see if I could fill in for a few hours tomorrow morning. Through her slurred speech, she said something about going to an after hours party somewhere, and that she probably wouldn't be able to make it in at 10. As long as she's there by noon, it'll be alright, I guess. I just can't be late for my 12:30 class. I'm going to walk out of there at noon, whether Dana shows up or not. She's lucky that I was still up, and lucky that I'm desperate for hours.
Tomorrow's going to be a long day, and an early night. I can already feel the cranky mood coming. Such is the my life.
And on that, I'm going to bed.
April 26, 2007
Another lonely night
I just got home from Brews Brothers; it was a pretty disappointing night there, to say the least. There was no sign of Heather, and the other girl there that I'm pretty friendly with, Dana, wasn't working either. Dana's not really my type, she's pretty tall and is blonde and I prefer brunettes, but she's really nice, and on the few occasions that we've had actual conversations I've found her to be really funny.
I didn't see much of Wyatt or Wendell, either. Wyatt was telling me the other day about his online betting, and with it being NBA playoff time I have a sneaking suspicion that he was in the back putting money on the Bulls. (I'm a Cleveland fan myself - gotta love that LeBron James.) I don't know where Wendell was all night, probably updating his profile at match.com. He swears by online dating, but I don't think he's had any more success with it than he has at real-life dating. So, with no Dana, no Heather, and the W's making themselves scarce, I didn't stick around long. I've been trying to get the nickname "The W's" to stick in reference to Wyatt and Wendell, but I haven't had any luck with that. Either "The W's" or "W-Squared". Either way, it hasn't been happening.
Tomorrow is my last day of classes before finals. I'm pretty relieved. I've actually studied my ass of this semester and my grades are really good for once, so at least I'm going into the summer (and my senior year) on a high note. I wonder what Heather's major is. She's definitely not in anything in the communications field or I would have seen her around school. She strikes me as the art history type, or maybe something in the English field...literature, perhaps. I'm dying to ask her, but I don't know if that's too forward, seeing as how we've only had a couple of very brief conversations. I wanted to ask Brett about it last night, but he was so hyped up about the new girl that he's dating (Ambrosia, I think her name is - who names their child after mythological food?) and so far gone on $2 Jack and Cokes that the effort seemed pretty futile.
I should probably get to studying for my final in Communication and Contemporary Culture, the one class I haven't been doing so hot in this semester, and one that I would really like to do well in given that it's one of the core classes for my major. Hopefully Heather will be working tomorrow. Hopefully Heather will be humming.
I didn't see much of Wyatt or Wendell, either. Wyatt was telling me the other day about his online betting, and with it being NBA playoff time I have a sneaking suspicion that he was in the back putting money on the Bulls. (I'm a Cleveland fan myself - gotta love that LeBron James.) I don't know where Wendell was all night, probably updating his profile at match.com. He swears by online dating, but I don't think he's had any more success with it than he has at real-life dating. So, with no Dana, no Heather, and the W's making themselves scarce, I didn't stick around long. I've been trying to get the nickname "The W's" to stick in reference to Wyatt and Wendell, but I haven't had any luck with that. Either "The W's" or "W-Squared". Either way, it hasn't been happening.
Tomorrow is my last day of classes before finals. I'm pretty relieved. I've actually studied my ass of this semester and my grades are really good for once, so at least I'm going into the summer (and my senior year) on a high note. I wonder what Heather's major is. She's definitely not in anything in the communications field or I would have seen her around school. She strikes me as the art history type, or maybe something in the English field...literature, perhaps. I'm dying to ask her, but I don't know if that's too forward, seeing as how we've only had a couple of very brief conversations. I wanted to ask Brett about it last night, but he was so hyped up about the new girl that he's dating (Ambrosia, I think her name is - who names their child after mythological food?) and so far gone on $2 Jack and Cokes that the effort seemed pretty futile.
I should probably get to studying for my final in Communication and Contemporary Culture, the one class I haven't been doing so hot in this semester, and one that I would really like to do well in given that it's one of the core classes for my major. Hopefully Heather will be working tomorrow. Hopefully Heather will be humming.
The Regulars
Like I said, I've only worked at Brews Brothers for a few weeks now, close to a month. My best friend Dana works there, and helped get me the job. It seemed like it would be a decent place to work, everyone that I had met from there was cool, and I knew about some of the coffee drinks. I had no idea that people could be so anal about their coffee drinks, though. Some want their cappuccino to be exactly 158 degrees, one guy wants the whipped cream on his frappe to be no less than 1/2 of an inch, but no more than 3/4 of an inch above the cup, and there's a girl that comes in semi-regularly that always orders a cappuccino but always means to order a latte. I don't know why she hasn't figured this out yet, but I kid you not, she takes about 2 minutes to figure out what she wants, and even then she's second-guessing herself. I've tried to help her, to remind her the difference, but it does no good. Luckily everyone at the counter knows what she wants when she walks in the door, so the drink she wants is ready for her, regardless of what she orders.
It didn't take too long for me to pick out the regular customers. Lucy, the coffee-confused, comes in Monday, Wednesday, and Friday around 1:15 and leaves a little before 2:30. Then there's a guy everyone just knows as "Pants" for some reason, who will come in, do 15 jumping jacks in the back near the restrooms, and then come up and order something iced and a cinnamon roll. There's a group of college students that come in and sit at one of our couches, trying to act like the cast of "Friends," but none of them are attractive or funny. There are the high school students who act like they're college students, but the always look too intimidated to actually enjoy themselves. There's this guy named Chad who always orders the same drink (an iced tea), gets the same cookie (peanut butter, though once or twice he's gotten the oatmeal) and sits at the same table. He seems to be friends with "The W's" somehow, but then, everyone that comes in knows one of them somehow. Like Danny, who comes in almost every day, orders a regular coffee, and sits and stares out the window for hours on end, and will only talk to Wyatt. Cindy makes small talk with everyone, employees and other customers alike, while she waits for her strawberry soda. She thinks my name is Liz for some reason, I swear I've told her at least 20 times it's Heather. I guess I'll be Liz to her. And these are just the people during the week. On nights and weekends, there are whole other crowds. The regulars are usually my favorites, I'm even starting to talk to them on occasion, when there's not a line out the door and people yelling for their double shots. Wendell said I needed to get better about that, that I'm too quite and reserved. So my goal is to say hi to at least 3 people every hour, aside from when I take their orders.
Crap, I didn't look at the time. . . I'm late for my study group. Gotta love calculus. I don't know how I'm going to use it in the music field, but the university seems to think that I will. At least I have the night off to work on some backed-up homework.
It didn't take too long for me to pick out the regular customers. Lucy, the coffee-confused, comes in Monday, Wednesday, and Friday around 1:15 and leaves a little before 2:30. Then there's a guy everyone just knows as "Pants" for some reason, who will come in, do 15 jumping jacks in the back near the restrooms, and then come up and order something iced and a cinnamon roll. There's a group of college students that come in and sit at one of our couches, trying to act like the cast of "Friends," but none of them are attractive or funny. There are the high school students who act like they're college students, but the always look too intimidated to actually enjoy themselves. There's this guy named Chad who always orders the same drink (an iced tea), gets the same cookie (peanut butter, though once or twice he's gotten the oatmeal) and sits at the same table. He seems to be friends with "The W's" somehow, but then, everyone that comes in knows one of them somehow. Like Danny, who comes in almost every day, orders a regular coffee, and sits and stares out the window for hours on end, and will only talk to Wyatt. Cindy makes small talk with everyone, employees and other customers alike, while she waits for her strawberry soda. She thinks my name is Liz for some reason, I swear I've told her at least 20 times it's Heather. I guess I'll be Liz to her. And these are just the people during the week. On nights and weekends, there are whole other crowds. The regulars are usually my favorites, I'm even starting to talk to them on occasion, when there's not a line out the door and people yelling for their double shots. Wendell said I needed to get better about that, that I'm too quite and reserved. So my goal is to say hi to at least 3 people every hour, aside from when I take their orders.
Crap, I didn't look at the time. . . I'm late for my study group. Gotta love calculus. I don't know how I'm going to use it in the music field, but the university seems to think that I will. At least I have the night off to work on some backed-up homework.
Thursday morning blues
Last night Brews Brothers was packed. It was really unusual for a Wednesday night, because aside from the weekends Wednesday is “the” going out night in Sheffield. Maybe everyone was just getting their caffeine buzz before getting their drink on, I don’t know. I even had to sit at a different table, because by the time I got off work and went home to grab my book (High Fidelity. This is literally the 32nd time I have read this book. The pages are all dog-eared from me having read it so much) most of the other tables were full, including the table where I usually sit. I asked Wyatt one day if I could have a RESERVED sign permanently put on my table, and he said no, so last night I had to squeeze into a little booth in the corner.
After I had gotten my iced tea and my cookie and sat down and gotten all situated, Heather came over to clear one of the tables near me and she said, “Hey.” Then she smiled, and walked away.
Then later, as the crowd was starting to thin out a little bit, she came over and was clearing the table next to me and I could have sworn she was humming “Casimir Pulaski Day” by Sufjan Stevens, which is my current favorite song, despite the fact that some of my buddies think Sufjan Stevens is a “tool.” You know how when you hear someone humming you can tell if they’re going to have a good singing voice or not? Heather’s humming of the Sufjan Stevens song was beautiful. I’m a sucker for a girl who can sing. I expected her to open her mouth and start singing and the sun to come out and a rainbow to form above her head. Really, it was that pretty. And of course I realized immediately that this was the perfect opportunity to talk to her, that WE LIKE THE SAME INDIE FOLK SONG, and I swear I was really going to try. I opened my mouth to speak and was going to say, “Is that Sufjan Stevens you’re humming? I’m a big Sufjan Stevens fan,” but just as the “is” started to escape my lips, an old lady said “Excuse me, miss,” and Heather had to go off to tend to her, and then my cell phone started ringing and my friend Brett wanted to meet for a beer, and I had to go.
After I had gotten my iced tea and my cookie and sat down and gotten all situated, Heather came over to clear one of the tables near me and she said, “Hey.” Then she smiled, and walked away.
Then later, as the crowd was starting to thin out a little bit, she came over and was clearing the table next to me and I could have sworn she was humming “Casimir Pulaski Day” by Sufjan Stevens, which is my current favorite song, despite the fact that some of my buddies think Sufjan Stevens is a “tool.” You know how when you hear someone humming you can tell if they’re going to have a good singing voice or not? Heather’s humming of the Sufjan Stevens song was beautiful. I’m a sucker for a girl who can sing. I expected her to open her mouth and start singing and the sun to come out and a rainbow to form above her head. Really, it was that pretty. And of course I realized immediately that this was the perfect opportunity to talk to her, that WE LIKE THE SAME INDIE FOLK SONG, and I swear I was really going to try. I opened my mouth to speak and was going to say, “Is that Sufjan Stevens you’re humming? I’m a big Sufjan Stevens fan,” but just as the “is” started to escape my lips, an old lady said “Excuse me, miss,” and Heather had to go off to tend to her, and then my cell phone started ringing and my friend Brett wanted to meet for a beer, and I had to go.
April 25, 2007
Some thoughts between customers
Ugh. Why did I say I would take the opening shift this weekend? Shouldn't I be enjoying myself, like everyone else? Wyatt owes me big time for this. Why the hell does he need Saturday morning off, anyways? Oh, that's right. He's got the idea that he can still hang with the college kids until all hours of the night, and bounce back the next morning. He can't. I bet he hasn't been able to do that for 10, 15 years. I guess I shouldn't complain, though. As far as bosses go, Wyatt and Wendell are alright, good even. They are laid-back, as laid back as a 40-year-old gay man and his underachieving younger brother can be. Since I'm the new girl, I take hours when I can get them. Even if they come at 6 in the morning. I keep telling myself that I'll have the afternoon free, like it matters. I'll just end up crawling into bed and trying to take a nap. That is, if I don't help myself to too many lattes to keep me going at work. One good thing about "The W's" not being around is that there's no one to care or say anything when we "sample" some drinks.
I'm trying to get the nickname of "The W's" going for Wyatt and Wendell, it seems to me like they should have some sort of nickname. But it's not catching on. Who names their kids Wyatt and Wendell? And why am I asking so many questions? I guess I have to for entertainment. There only people in here right now are the weekend regulars, the kids at Sheffield University that don't go out, and therefore have a good GPA. Mine's not bad, but I haven't really been challenging myself. Being a voice major has been a lot of fun, so far. People always ask me what I want to do with a degree in music, and I always tell them the same thing: I don't know. I hoping to figure that out in the next couple of years. For now, I'm just doing what everyone says should be done; I'm doing something that I love. I don't want to be one of those students who are majoring in something that they don't like and realize it too late. There's a guy in the music department, either instrumental or music education or something, who studied computer engineering for almost four years before deciding he didn't like it, and switched schools and majors. I admire him for recognizing his situation and switching before he started working in a job he hated, but I don't know why he just didn't go into music in the first place. Live and learn, I guess.
I've worked at the Brews Brothers coffee shop for a few weeks now; I decided that I should finally get a job, I can't keep siphoning off Mom and Dad, even though they won't say it themselves. They've got the money to help, but eventually I'll need to stand on my own feet. Hopefully not standing on them for eight hours at a time serving wanna-be authors their caffeine fix, but it's a start.
I'm trying to get the nickname of "The W's" going for Wyatt and Wendell, it seems to me like they should have some sort of nickname. But it's not catching on. Who names their kids Wyatt and Wendell? And why am I asking so many questions? I guess I have to for entertainment. There only people in here right now are the weekend regulars, the kids at Sheffield University that don't go out, and therefore have a good GPA. Mine's not bad, but I haven't really been challenging myself. Being a voice major has been a lot of fun, so far. People always ask me what I want to do with a degree in music, and I always tell them the same thing: I don't know. I hoping to figure that out in the next couple of years. For now, I'm just doing what everyone says should be done; I'm doing something that I love. I don't want to be one of those students who are majoring in something that they don't like and realize it too late. There's a guy in the music department, either instrumental or music education or something, who studied computer engineering for almost four years before deciding he didn't like it, and switched schools and majors. I admire him for recognizing his situation and switching before he started working in a job he hated, but I don't know why he just didn't go into music in the first place. Live and learn, I guess.
I've worked at the Brews Brothers coffee shop for a few weeks now; I decided that I should finally get a job, I can't keep siphoning off Mom and Dad, even though they won't say it themselves. They've got the money to help, but eventually I'll need to stand on my own feet. Hopefully not standing on them for eight hours at a time serving wanna-be authors their caffeine fix, but it's a start.
An Introduction
There’s this place in Sheffield that I can’t live without, Brews Brothers. I’ve been coming here pretty much since I moved here, which was five years ago, way back when I was a freshman the first time. I actually was only a freshman once, but I took two years off, because school was cramping my style. So now that I’m back at it, I’m a junior, even though I’m 23, and at the age when everyone I know is graduating and getting real jobs and moving to exotic places like Albuquerque and Minneapolis. Someday I’ll graduate and do the same thing. My academic advisor says I have just two semesters to go after the current one, which is good news. Then I’ll be a Real Adult with a Real Degree in Communication Studies, whatever that entails.
Anyway, I’ve been coming to Brews Brothers since about the second week that I was in town. I was at the bar one night – here you only have to be 18 to go to the bars, but at the time I had my older brother’s ID – and I got hit on by this 35-year-old dude with a fake tan and a receding hairline. Try writing home about that one. Turns out the guy’s name was Wendell, and once I explained to him that I’m not gay, just (to quote Derek Zoolander) “really, really ridiculously good looking”, we had a good laugh and he told me that he and his brother, Wyatt, own the coffee shop in town, Brews Brothers. And I’ve been going there ever since. I even briefly worked there, for a period of about two days during my “time off from school” phase. But it was quickly decided that I make a much better loiterer than I do coffee shop employee, and I returned to my post at my regular table in front of the window.
It’s strange that I would choose to frequent a coffee shop, since I can’t stand the stuff. After watching my parents chug down pot after pot pretty much my entire life, the smell of black coffee actually makes me kind of sick. I’ve just never developed a taste for it, which isn’t to say that I haven’t tried. Wyatt’s always experimenting with flavors, creating new concoctions, channeling his previous alcoholic tendencies into mixtures of coffee such as “Mocha Caramel Mango Latte.” Since he knows me and I’m there pretty much all the time, when I’m not in class and not working 25 hours a week as a teller at the credit union located inside Grocery Mart, I usually get to be the guinea pig. I’ve explained to him a thousand times that I don’t like coffee, but he keeps insisting that I try his experiments. If one day he does mix up something that doesn’t make me want to hurl, I think it will be the pinnacle of his coffee making career and he will either retire from the java business or die happily in his sleep that night.
Frequenting Brews Brothers has other benefits, aside from Wyatt’s strange brews and free cookies – I’ve never paid for a cookie there, and I consume plenty of peanut butter and oatmeal raisin ones, washed down with hot cocoa in the winter and iced tea in the summer. There are many attractive females at Sheffield U, and many of these attractive female apply to be baristas at Brews Brothers, and all of the females who are actually hired to work there are attractive. This is partially due to the fact that Wyatt is kind of a pervert, and partially due to the fact that Wendell is not a fan of – as he puts it – “uggos”. Either way, I’m not complaining.
The newest barista to join the Brews Brothers staff is Heather. She’s petite with big brown eyes and longish brown hair, and she’s shy but when she smiles – wow. Her smile will just warm your heart. And her teeth are perfect. I wouldn’t say that perfect teeth are a necessity in a girl, I’m sure I could love a girl with imperfect teeth if she was the right girl, but I recognize a perfect set of pearly whites when I see them, and Heather has them.
Heather has been working at Brews Brothers for three weeks and two days. The only words I have ever said to her are “please” and “thank you” except for the time that I asked her what her name was, and said that my name was Chad, and that I really wasn’t stalking her, that I was kind of a regular at Brews Brothers, that she could ask Wyatt and Wendell to confirm this, that I’m just a student at the university doing my homework and drinking my iced tea and eating my peanut butter cookie. Since then, we make eye contact, we both smile, and I nod politely, but that’s it. And I want to talk to her, but I don’t know what to say. I think I might have been too over the top during our first conversation, rambling on and on, and now she probably thinks I’m mentally challenged or something since I haven’t really spoken to her since.
It’s not that I’m shy; at least, I don’t think I’m shy. I’m a friendly guy. I’ll talk to pretty much anyone. I like to meet people and hear what they have to say. And I’d really like to talk to Heather and hear what she has to say, I just wish she would break the ice, so I know I’m not overstepping my bounds.
The thought has also crossed my mind that maybe I’ve forgotten how to do this – you know, talk to girls. My friends tell me it’s like riding a bike, that you don’t really forget, you just have to get back on and start riding. It’s not that I haven’t dated since I’ve been at college. I have, but it’s been awhile, since the final demise of my on-again, off-again relationship with my high school girlfriend, Lindsey. She and I went to separate colleges and chose to lead separate lives, together, which didn’t work out nearly as fantastically as we had planned. We broke up at Christmas break freshman year (happy holidays), got back together five months later when we were both living at home for the summer, broke up again that October, got back together in February, and broke up for good at the end of April, right before finals, which catapulted me into my “time off from school” phase. I dated a few girls in that time, nothing serious, and then Lindsey and I got back together, briefly, last summer. Then I enrolled at school again and we broke up, again. And I haven’t dated anyone since. It’s not that I’m waiting for her or some stupid thing like that – I told her I was done with it, done with the drama, with the “she loves me, she loves me not”, with the on-again, off-again rollercoaster that had become our lives together. I just haven’t been ready.
But then I see Heather, and I think that I might be.
Anyway, I’ve been coming to Brews Brothers since about the second week that I was in town. I was at the bar one night – here you only have to be 18 to go to the bars, but at the time I had my older brother’s ID – and I got hit on by this 35-year-old dude with a fake tan and a receding hairline. Try writing home about that one. Turns out the guy’s name was Wendell, and once I explained to him that I’m not gay, just (to quote Derek Zoolander) “really, really ridiculously good looking”, we had a good laugh and he told me that he and his brother, Wyatt, own the coffee shop in town, Brews Brothers. And I’ve been going there ever since. I even briefly worked there, for a period of about two days during my “time off from school” phase. But it was quickly decided that I make a much better loiterer than I do coffee shop employee, and I returned to my post at my regular table in front of the window.
It’s strange that I would choose to frequent a coffee shop, since I can’t stand the stuff. After watching my parents chug down pot after pot pretty much my entire life, the smell of black coffee actually makes me kind of sick. I’ve just never developed a taste for it, which isn’t to say that I haven’t tried. Wyatt’s always experimenting with flavors, creating new concoctions, channeling his previous alcoholic tendencies into mixtures of coffee such as “Mocha Caramel Mango Latte.” Since he knows me and I’m there pretty much all the time, when I’m not in class and not working 25 hours a week as a teller at the credit union located inside Grocery Mart, I usually get to be the guinea pig. I’ve explained to him a thousand times that I don’t like coffee, but he keeps insisting that I try his experiments. If one day he does mix up something that doesn’t make me want to hurl, I think it will be the pinnacle of his coffee making career and he will either retire from the java business or die happily in his sleep that night.
Frequenting Brews Brothers has other benefits, aside from Wyatt’s strange brews and free cookies – I’ve never paid for a cookie there, and I consume plenty of peanut butter and oatmeal raisin ones, washed down with hot cocoa in the winter and iced tea in the summer. There are many attractive females at Sheffield U, and many of these attractive female apply to be baristas at Brews Brothers, and all of the females who are actually hired to work there are attractive. This is partially due to the fact that Wyatt is kind of a pervert, and partially due to the fact that Wendell is not a fan of – as he puts it – “uggos”. Either way, I’m not complaining.
The newest barista to join the Brews Brothers staff is Heather. She’s petite with big brown eyes and longish brown hair, and she’s shy but when she smiles – wow. Her smile will just warm your heart. And her teeth are perfect. I wouldn’t say that perfect teeth are a necessity in a girl, I’m sure I could love a girl with imperfect teeth if she was the right girl, but I recognize a perfect set of pearly whites when I see them, and Heather has them.
Heather has been working at Brews Brothers for three weeks and two days. The only words I have ever said to her are “please” and “thank you” except for the time that I asked her what her name was, and said that my name was Chad, and that I really wasn’t stalking her, that I was kind of a regular at Brews Brothers, that she could ask Wyatt and Wendell to confirm this, that I’m just a student at the university doing my homework and drinking my iced tea and eating my peanut butter cookie. Since then, we make eye contact, we both smile, and I nod politely, but that’s it. And I want to talk to her, but I don’t know what to say. I think I might have been too over the top during our first conversation, rambling on and on, and now she probably thinks I’m mentally challenged or something since I haven’t really spoken to her since.
It’s not that I’m shy; at least, I don’t think I’m shy. I’m a friendly guy. I’ll talk to pretty much anyone. I like to meet people and hear what they have to say. And I’d really like to talk to Heather and hear what she has to say, I just wish she would break the ice, so I know I’m not overstepping my bounds.
The thought has also crossed my mind that maybe I’ve forgotten how to do this – you know, talk to girls. My friends tell me it’s like riding a bike, that you don’t really forget, you just have to get back on and start riding. It’s not that I haven’t dated since I’ve been at college. I have, but it’s been awhile, since the final demise of my on-again, off-again relationship with my high school girlfriend, Lindsey. She and I went to separate colleges and chose to lead separate lives, together, which didn’t work out nearly as fantastically as we had planned. We broke up at Christmas break freshman year (happy holidays), got back together five months later when we were both living at home for the summer, broke up again that October, got back together in February, and broke up for good at the end of April, right before finals, which catapulted me into my “time off from school” phase. I dated a few girls in that time, nothing serious, and then Lindsey and I got back together, briefly, last summer. Then I enrolled at school again and we broke up, again. And I haven’t dated anyone since. It’s not that I’m waiting for her or some stupid thing like that – I told her I was done with it, done with the drama, with the “she loves me, she loves me not”, with the on-again, off-again rollercoaster that had become our lives together. I just haven’t been ready.
But then I see Heather, and I think that I might be.
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