<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733</id><updated>2012-02-16T09:26:10.100-06:00</updated><title type='text'>As the Coffee Brews</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>52</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-3407793322310793936</id><published>2009-06-14T14:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T14:57:27.002-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Life, so far</title><content type='html'>Wow, it’s been a long time since my last post.  It’s a lame excuse, but I’ve been busy.  Let’s just recap all the things that have happened in the past six months (not necessarily in chronological order).&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I graduated from college.  Goodbye, Sheffield U!  It was sad to say goodbye to the place, but damn, I’d been there for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;I quit my job at the credit union.&lt;br /&gt;My mom was declared in remission, so no more chemo and radiation for her. &lt;br /&gt;I got the job in New York.&lt;br /&gt;I moved to New York.&lt;br /&gt;Heather and I broke up.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Let’s just say the past half-year has been a rollercoaster.  Apparently that’s what your mid-twenties are all about; at least that’s what “they” say.  Apparently it’s totally normal to take a job so you can be close to your girlfriend and move to a huge new city and not have any money and subsist on ramen noodles and Keystone Light and then have your girlfriend break up with you to be with some douchnozzle named Vaughn (speculating).  It’s all part of the process. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;For the record, I did not move to New York solely for the purpose of being near Heather or to “suffocate her”.  I would be lying if I said she wasn’t a factor in the decision, but the truth is, I love New York and I had a fantastic job opportunity that I would have been crazy to pass up.  Like seriously insane.  And the job has turned out really well and I love working there, and in spite of all the shit that has gone down in the time that I’ve been here I still really love New York.  I am not going to be driven out by bad memories.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Heather and I are still “friendly”, but we’re not friends.  It’s difficult to be friends with the girl who broke your heart and to put it simply that’s exactly what she did.  Things really started going downhill after our anniversary, and by the time graduation rolled around, the situation was pretty bad.  And yes, I selfishly believed that moving to New York and actually being near each other again would help the situation.  It didn’t, and that’s where all the crap about me suffocating her comes in, and next thing you know we’re breaking up in my apartment the week before Valentine’s Day.  It wasn’t a knock down drag out fight; it was one of those excruciating adult conversations where you finally accept what’s happening and execute the only possible solution.  We’ve talked since then, and I’m not just talking about the tearful phone calls in the first couple weeks begging her to give us another chance.  We’ve seen each other a couple times, we met for coffee once, and went out for pizza another time.  But we don’t talk on a regular basis and we certainly don’t “hang out.”  She’s in my life, but on the perimeter.  And that’s where she’ll have to stay for now while I get my shit together and try to move on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-3407793322310793936?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/3407793322310793936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=3407793322310793936&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/3407793322310793936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/3407793322310793936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2009/06/life-so-far.html' title='Life, so far'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-2593782350056177694</id><published>2008-10-27T15:45:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T15:45:54.759-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy anniversary?</title><content type='html'>It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I made it to New York without incident, made it to Heather’s without incident, and was waiting for her when she got home at 5 p.m.  She seemed really excited to see me, and she was definitely surprised – she had mentioned that her roommate had been acting really nosy, and of course I couldn’t tell her that I was the reason why.  There will be a lot less tension in that apartment now.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;She seemed extra surprised that I had brought her flowers, and then when I started pulling gifts out of my backpack for her to open she was really confused and kept asking what they were for.  I thought she was joking, but I finally realized that she had forgotten our anniversary.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I hadn’t been able to talk to her on the actual day – she had called while I was at work in the afternoon, and when I called her back later that night and couldn’t get ahold of her I didn’t want to leave her a “happy anniversary” voicemail.  I wanted to tell her myself, and when she didn’t call back that night I decided I would wait until the next day to do it in person.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;She felt really bad, and apologized about a million times, and I know she’s been busy lately, but I really couldn’t help but feel slighted.  I know things are changing, and that we’re going to have to adapt, but the fact that I went through all this effort to celebrate our anniversary when &lt;i&gt;she couldn’t even be bothered to remember it&lt;/i&gt; bothered me a lot more than I cared to admit to her.  Is that selfish of me?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The rest of the weekend went well.  While she was in class and giving voice lessons on Friday I wandered around the city, and walked past the radio station I’m interviewing with next week.  I haven’t told Heather about the interview yet, and I don’t think I’m going to until after I’ve heard something back from them.  It doesn’t seem worth bothering her over something like that just yet.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;We went to see &lt;i&gt;Avenue Q&lt;/i&gt; Saturday night.  It was really hilarious, and we kept singing the songs to each other the rest of the weekend.  We went out for drinks with some of her friends Saturday night, including Vaughn, the guy she’s been spending so much time with.  He seems pretty cool, I just hope he doesn’t think I’m a douchebag. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I had to be at the airport late yesterday morning for my 1 p.m. flight, so we grabbed breakfast before I left.  We had some time to talk over the weekend and got some things worked out, but I don’t really know if it’s actually going to be better or if it just seemed like it because we were actually together at the time.  We promised to make an effort to talk to each other every day, so I guess that’s something.  I’m not trying to pretend like I know what’s going on with her right now, but I think I made it very clear that I want to make things work between us.  I can only hope she feels the same way.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The flight back was uneventful, save for the million thoughts spinning around in my head.  Maybe I’m overreacting about her forgetting our anniversary, but it’s still really bothering me.  I’ll get over it, I’m sure, and I think if things start improving between us that will help speed up the process.  Plus, I have a lot going on this week, including the phone interview with the New York station at 9 a.m. on Wednesday, so that will help keep my mind off things.  I hope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-2593782350056177694?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/2593782350056177694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=2593782350056177694&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/2593782350056177694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/2593782350056177694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2008/10/happy-anniversary.html' title='Happy anniversary?'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-5993097416022842149</id><published>2008-10-22T16:43:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T16:43:18.789-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things could always be worse</title><content type='html'>Man, this week is kicking my ass.  Between having to be at work at 5:30 a.m., actually attending classes, working afternoons at the credit union and then trying to study at night, I am beat.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Of course I let Brett talk me into going to the bars last night – some girl he knows was turning 21 and I got roped into celebrating with the bar sluts.  I didn’t drink that much because I had to drive home, but I didn’t get home until 2 a.m., something this old body isn’t that used to anymore.  Usually at 2 a.m. I’ve been sleeping for three hours.  I am definitely paying for it today.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Being so busy means I have had almost zero time to talk to Heather.  Our schedules do not seem to be coinciding this week and it seems like we’re living out in real life what Jim and Pam were dealing with on last week’s episode of &lt;i&gt;The Office.&lt;/i&gt;  She called last night about 9:30, when I was at the bar, and I went outside and talked to her for a few minutes but then she had to go do something, and by the time I got home it was too late to call her back. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Things will get better, I know, it’s just difficult right now.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;On a lighter note, I saw some drunk ass girls last night.  I saw two girls puke &lt;i&gt;in the bar.&lt;/i&gt;  I’m glad I’m not them today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-5993097416022842149?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/5993097416022842149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=5993097416022842149&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/5993097416022842149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/5993097416022842149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2008/10/things-could-always-be-worse.html' title='Things could always be worse'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-7259104305978225262</id><published>2008-10-20T23:09:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T23:31:53.402-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Heather in the City</title><content type='html'>Well things have finally slowed down a little here, I think I'm finally finding my "groove."  Not that I'm learning my way around the city at all, that's going to take years, if I make it that long.  But I'm able to get to and from class without a problem, and can usually find my way to a deli or coffee shop without a problem.  Yes, I still go to coffee shops, even if I spent nearly every day of the last few years in one.  You know, it's almost comforting.  And a welcome escape from studying, and the dorm life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of dorm life, my roommate Alison has really been getting on my nerves lately.  She was fine at first, but in the past week, she's been really nosy, asking what my plans are all the time, and where I'm going when I'm heading out.  I don't know if she's looking for an invitation or what, but it's frustrating, I feel like I have to sneak around at times.  I'm not opposed to hanging out with her, but I just need some Heather time.  We sleep in the same room, we don't have to eat together or study together all the time.  I'm really looking forward to this weekend, though, I've made some plans with some of my new girlfriends, and I've been able to keep it a secret from Alison!  We aren't going to go wild and crazy, just exploring the town, some shopping, and maybe going to a show.  Oh, and a trip to Nathan's Famous.  I went to one on a trip to St. Louis, but come on, I'm in New York, I think I have to have the original!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it's time for bed.  If I'm going to have fun this weekend, I'm going to have to bust my hump during the week, so I can have some free time.  On top of everything, I may start giving some vocal lessons this week, if I can find the patience to deal with kids.  The ones that are good I won't have a problem with, it's the ones that don't have the natural talent that I'm afraid will drive me up the wall.  But hey, money is money, I'm not going to ruin anyone's dream.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-7259104305978225262?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/7259104305978225262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=7259104305978225262&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/7259104305978225262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/7259104305978225262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2008/10/heather-in-city.html' title='Heather in the City'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-160609606776502380</id><published>2008-10-20T17:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T17:18:15.101-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In motion</title><content type='html'>Plane ticket?  Check.  I arrive at LaGuardia at 2:33 p.m. EDT on Thursday, October 23rd.  I will then hop in the Super Shuttle, which will take me to Heather’s.  Perhaps it’s not the &lt;i&gt;least&lt;/i&gt; expensive option, but it’s definitely cheaper than a cab, and easier than trying to navigate the subway or bus lines.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Awesome anniversary gift?  Check.  I made Heather a DVD of pictures from the past year of our relationship, set to “our song,” “The Reasons” by the Weakerthans.  But that’s not all – I got her a Sheffield U. hoodie, because she was complaining a couple weeks ago that it’s perfect hoodie weather but her favorite Sheffield one is falling apart, and a book of crossword puzzles for her to fill out while she does her laundry.  I also got tickets for us to see &lt;i&gt;Avenue Q&lt;/i&gt; on Saturday – she loves musicals and I decided I could tolerate this one because it’s funny and vulgar, and I like funny and vulgar.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Flowers?  Check…almost.  There’s a flower shop just a couple blocks from Heather’s, and since I packed light (I’m only going to be gone for the weekend, her gifts are small and there’s also a baggage fee on nearly every airline, so I'm carrying on) I don’t mind hoofing it over there to pick her up a dozen red roses.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I think I’m pretty damn romantic, really.  Heather and I have been so out of sync lately that I think we really need a weekend to reconnect, and I am really excited to surprise her for our anniversary, even if it is a day late. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;And I have another surprise for her – there’s a radio station in New York that’s interested in interviewing me!  I’m doing a telephone interview next Wednesday morning for a production position.  I’m pumped about it.  I never really dreamed of a career in radio, but the more time I’ve spent in the field the more I’ve become interested in it, and I actually feel qualified to be an actual producer, which is weird since I’ve never in my entire life really felt qualified to do anything.  I didn’t think I would ever be the one to look forward to entering the “real world” and yet, here I am.  It’s funny how things work out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-160609606776502380?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/160609606776502380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=160609606776502380&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/160609606776502380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/160609606776502380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2008/10/in-motion.html' title='In motion'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-7954037527928040903</id><published>2008-10-10T17:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T17:03:04.645-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's just been that kind of week</title><content type='html'>Well, this has been a kind of uneventful, and incredibly frustrating, week for me.  I’m on thin ice with the credit union – my drawer was $85 short on Monday.  It’s the first time I’ve ever been off in the time I’ve worked there, which &lt;i&gt;I&lt;/i&gt; think is pretty impressive, especially since it seems like a couple of the other tellers are off a couple times per week.  Then I had one of the production assistants on the morning show I’m producing walk out on me on Tuesday – a really classy move on his part.  So I’ve spent the rest of the week scrambling to get things done.  It helps the mornings go by fast, but it’s stressful.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I also had midterms this week, so when I wasn’t working or taking tests, I was holed up in my regular spot at Brews Brothers studying.  Devon and Derek both have girlfriends now who spend the majority of their time at our house, and while they’re both very sweet (and, I’m not going to lie, pretty attractive) it’s impossible to concentrate on anything with four people clamoring around the house.  It’s not dead silent at Brews Brothers by any means, but I can focus there.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;This left very little time to talk to Heather this week, but what little I did talk to her, she seemed tense and things were incredibly strained between us.  She’s getting out and meeting people, and that’s good.  She’s been spending a lot of time with this guy Vaughn.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m fine with her having guy friends – it’s not like I don’t have plenty of friends who are girls.  I just hate that other people get to spend time with her and I don’t.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I’ve hatched a plan, though – a surprise visit next weekend.  I conned her roommate into making sure Heather doesn’t make any plans so she’ll be around when I get in on Thursday night.  Hopefully this little random act of romance will give our relationship the kick in the ass it needs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-7954037527928040903?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/7954037527928040903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=7954037527928040903&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/7954037527928040903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/7954037527928040903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2008/10/its-just-been-that-kind-of-week.html' title='It&apos;s just been that kind of week'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-4060512061823846960</id><published>2008-10-08T21:02:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T21:37:15.465-05:00</updated><title type='text'>An East Coast Girl</title><content type='html'>I got into Juilliard!  With a scholarship and everything!  Things have been soooo busy all summer long, into the fall, I feel like things haven't sunk in, hasn't hit me, even a month into my first semester.  I mean, I've been in New York for a couple months, but it doesn't feel like home yet, I still feel like I'm going to be going back to Sheffield in a few days.  I'm not.  Well, eventually I will be, you know, to visit friends, family, Chad.  He's been great through all of this, even helping me move and visiting once, but both of us are a little overwhelmed with things right now - he's taking a ton of classes to finish up his degree and helping his mom out when he can, and I'm always studying, practicing, or trying to get my bearings. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've made a few friends out here, there are definitely some cool people, but then there are also the stereotypical "music people."  Everyone's been in the same boat lately, so we've been all hanging out together, but I can definitely notice some cliques forming.  I'm not quite sure I fit into one yet, but there are a few people that I've hung out with one more than one occasion.  And one of them is a guy, which is driving Chad up the wall with jealousy, but what am I supposed to do?  I had guy friends back home, I've had guy friends all my life.  I know we're a thousand miles apart right now, so it's a big adjustment all around, but still, I'm not going to sit in my dorm by myself all the time.  I think he realizes that there's no threat to him, he just is jealous that other people are able to hang out with me when he isn't.  And I understand.  It's been a trying time, but we both think it's worth it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just have to figure out when I can make a trip home.  I'll be back for Thanksgiving, but I think a lot of that time will be spent with family, which is frustrating.  Same with Christmas.  And my weekends are completely booked well into next semester.  It's been a point of contention, but there's nothing I can do about it.   Plus, my scholarship covers room and board, but not much else.  I didn't save as much as I should have, so I'm trying to cut costs where I can, until I find a job with extremely flexible hours to have some sort of income.  I know I'm in the city that never sleeps, but this girl definitely get cranky without it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-4060512061823846960?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/4060512061823846960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=4060512061823846960&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4060512061823846960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4060512061823846960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2008/10/east-coast-girl.html' title='An East Coast Girl'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-218244248661131025</id><published>2008-09-30T16:35:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T16:37:58.819-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A few things</title><content type='html'>1.  Heather got into Juilliard.&lt;br /&gt;2.  Heather moved to New York in August.&lt;br /&gt;3.  For those of you keeping track, I was supposed to graduate in May 2009.&lt;br /&gt;4.  I am still living in Sheffield.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Yes, Heather got into Juilliard.  What, did you think she wouldn’t?  The day she got the letter she did the totally girly, “Oh I can’t possibly open it Chad, won’t you do it for me?” routine and I was happy to oblige.  Then one of us danced around and screamed like a little girl.  I won’t name names, but it wasn’t &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt; me.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;So, yeah, Heather moved to New York.  There was a lot of dancing around the issue of what would happen to “us,” mostly because I am a guy and, like most guys, do my best to avoid emotional confrontations, so I did my best not to bring it up.  We were finally forced to talk about it and decided it was definitely worth staying together.  We agreed that one of us will fly to see the other once a month, twice a month if possible, alternating if possible.  Of course, the economy is in a tailspin right now and do you know how expensive it is to fly?  Thankfully my dad had a bunch of frequent flier miles he wasn’t going to use that he was able to transfer to me, so those will help offset some of our travel expenses.  So far I have been to New York twice (once to help Heather move, and once for our first monthly visit a couple weekends ago) and Heather has been to Sheffield zero times.  I am not keeping score.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;School is back in full swing and I have been doing something really strange this semester – actually trying.  I decided toward the end of the summer that I would take extra credits for the fall semester and graduate in December.  This caused my mother endless amounts of joy, and for someone who’s spent the past several months undergoing chemo and radiation and basically feeling like she’s been hit by a freight train, endless amounts of joy have been in short supply.  Therefore, it’s hard to be annoyed when she still tells me every time I talk to her how excited she is that I’m graduating early.  Her cancer is in remission and her hair is starting to grow back a little bit, and I’m really proud of her.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Graduating early means I only have a couple months left of the college life before I have to enter the “real world” unless I go to grad school, which in no way excites me.  I’ve actually been looking for jobs – I know, odd for a procrastinator like me to think ahead.  And, yes, I'm looking for jobs in New York.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;So, that’s life for me (in a nutshell).  What’s new with you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-218244248661131025?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/218244248661131025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=218244248661131025&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/218244248661131025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/218244248661131025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2008/09/few-things.html' title='A few things'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-3516527625568485894</id><published>2008-03-14T20:05:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-14T20:08:27.558-06:00</updated><title type='text'>New York, New York</title><content type='html'>Well, Heather and I survived our first “vacation” together.  It was a bit dicey at times before her audition, when she was a giant ball of nerves.  I tried to be the caring and understanding and compassionate guy that I am, and tried to be receptive to her needs and her feelings, but to be frank she started acting like a big baby pretty much the second we got off the plane at La Guardia.  It happened that it was raining and a little bit chilly – not cold but &lt;i&gt;cool&lt;/i&gt; - during our time there and she refused to be outside.  At all.  I know she was preserving her voice, but couldn't she have bundled up?  Anyway, the time we should have spent sightseeing we spent holed up in the hotel room.  We watched &lt;i&gt;The Today Show&lt;/i&gt; on TV one morning when we should have been AT &lt;i&gt;The Today Show.&lt;/i&gt;  And, I’m a guy.  Spending hours upon hours in a hotel room with your hot girlfriend is a pretty awesome scenario, but it got old, even for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I was more relieved when her audition was over than she was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She nailed her audition, of course; I know this because she “doesn’t feel she did very well,” which is Heather-speak for “I nailed it,” but she won’t find out for awhile if she got in.  She didn’t want me to be there for the audition, so I finally got to hit the streets and actually see some of New York.  I took the subway downtown and went to the Empire State Building, which I know Heather would never have gone for anyway since she’s scared of heights, and went to Times Square and Rockefeller Center.  I didn’t know how much time I would have before she was done (she had to be at Lincoln Center at 10 a.m. and there was a possibility that she could have been there until 10 p.m.) so I just walked around, exploring, until she called me about 3:30 and said she was done.  Before I got back on the subway I happened to pass a florist so I stopped and bought her a dozen red roses, and when I met her back at our hotel it was tres romantic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had promised her a fancy romantic dinner while we were there, so I had made reservations at Tavern on the Green for the night of her audition in the hopes that she would be out in time.  Luckily, we had plenty of time to make it to dinner at 7 p.m.  I know it’s kind of a New York cliché, but the meal was really amazing and the restaurant is gorgeous.  I think Heather enjoyed it, and I know she loves to get all dolled up.  It was really nice to just unwind after the tension of our first couple days in the city.  The next day we really got to do some sightseeing…as in, we saw what there was to see in the cab ride from our hotel back to La Guardia. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a good trip, though, and I know Heather is glad to be through with the audition.  Now, we just wait to see if she gets in to Juilliard.  And I wonder, if she does get in, what happens to us…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-3516527625568485894?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/3516527625568485894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=3516527625568485894&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/3516527625568485894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/3516527625568485894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2008/03/new-york-new-york.html' title='New York, New York'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-191512657195484746</id><published>2008-02-27T15:42:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T16:14:12.857-06:00</updated><title type='text'>This is it</title><content type='html'>In the past few weeks, there's only been one thing on my mind: my audition at Juilliard.  It's finally here!  Well, almost.  Next week.  But Chad and I are leaving tomorrow for New York City.  The only time that worked out for both of us to go and have some time for site-seeing is this weekend.  It's too bad that I won't be able to enjoy any of it.  If the weather's cold, I don't even think I'll want to go outside, I'm too paranoid of getting a cold or sore throat or something right before the audition.  The audition is Monday, and we're not leaving until Wednesday morning, so I guess I'll have a day to unwind and take everything in.  As long as I don't totally screw everything up in the audition.  Then I may as well just drink my sorrows away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm performing the "Queen of the Night" aria, from Mozart's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Magic Flute&lt;/span&gt;, as my chosen piece.  I know that it's one everyone knows and does, but I think I can impress them with it.  I can get those high notes pretty well, so I'm hoping they'll see it.  Who am I kidding, of course they'll notice, it's not like I'm singing for Chad.  Not that he doesn't appreciate the music, he just doesn't quite get the difficulty of some things.  I do adore him for trying, though, and putting forth the effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second selection is one chosen by the jury, "Vissi d'arte," from Puccini's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;La Tosca&lt;/span&gt;.  I've done this one once before, years ago, so I feel alright with it.  But when I think a little bit about it, I get nervous that I haven't focused on it enough in the past couple of weeks, and then I get into this whole spiral of worrying again.  So I'm going avoid doing that from now until after the audition.  There'll be plenty of time for worrying after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, time to start packing.  While I'm not usually a "girly girl," I'm getting very excited to get all dressed up, both for the audition, and for the nice dinner that Chad's promised me.  I told him we could just get a pizza and check out some places, but he is insisting on taking me out to a fancy-pants place.  We'll see how things go!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-191512657195484746?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/191512657195484746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=191512657195484746&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/191512657195484746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/191512657195484746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2008/02/this-is-it.html' title='This is it'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-8993025507346703311</id><published>2008-02-04T16:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T16:43:55.076-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The semester so far</title><content type='html'>Things are busy here in Sheffield, and by busy I mean ass cold.  Seriously, you'd think we live in freaking Minnesota or something.  I’ve been staying warm by never leaving the house except when I absolutely have to and by making lots of trips to Brews Brothers for hot cocoa and hot apple cider.  Plus, Brews Brothers is about the only time I get to see Heather.  I’m trying not to get too worked up about it, since she is following a dream and come March all this stress will be over, it just sucks not getting to spend any real time with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The radio station where I interned last semester called me and offered me a job a couple weeks ago.  Can you believe that shit?  They must be desperate.  Regardless of the reason, I accepted it and am now assistant producer for the morning show.  Luckily, this all happened early enough in the semester that I was able to rearrange my class schedule a little bit to work around it.  The hours kind of suck – I have to be there at 5:30 a.m. – but it pays pretty decently (this would obviously increase exponentially if I were working full-time) and it will look great on my resume.  It’s basically like another internship, only this time they’re paying me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend is Crazy Dayz in downtown Sheffield.  Maybe they should have hired me at the Chamber of Commerce so I could veto “Crazy Dayz.”  All the businesses are having huge sales, and they’re having a chili cook-off that Wyatt and Wendell are participating in.  Yesterday I was in Brews Brothers around lunchtime and they offered me a bowl to taste-test.  I never pass up free food, and it was pretty delicious.  The credit union is doing giveaways and since the ladies on the teller line are going to be participating in the chili cook-off that leaves yours truly to hold down the crazy credit union.  After being at work at 5:30 a.m. every single weekday I am not looking forward to being at the credit union at 8 on a Saturday, but I’ve been told there will be balloon animals so it might be fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-8993025507346703311?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/8993025507346703311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=8993025507346703311&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/8993025507346703311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/8993025507346703311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2008/02/semester-so-far.html' title='The semester so far'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-7908946494633652560</id><published>2008-01-28T15:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-28T16:07:37.651-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally, a few minutes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Right now I'm in between my practice studio time and my shift at Brews Bros, and should probably still be at the studio.  I can only take so much singing at one time, though, especially if I'm going to be working all night long.  Now that school has started back up, the place is busy again, all those kids who didn't do as well as they had hoped for in their first semester classes are already hitting the books.  And already cranky.  Luckily, I don't spend much time thinking about that, because my mind is usually elsewhere.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;I've been rushing around, getting things all in a row, so I can be prepared for my audition for Juilliard!!!  I'm so excited about the idea of going to grad school there, I can't even really fathom how huge of a deal this could be!  I'm not getting my hopes up too much for going there, it would be amazing, but I know that it's a stretch for anyone to get in.  Just being considered has been an honor, one that's boosted my confidence infinitely.  Of course I have a few other schools that I'm looking into, you know, the whole "safety net" type thing, but you gotta shoot for the stars, right?  Now if I could only have a  minute to relax.  Chad and I are going out to NYC in March, but I have SO MUCH stuff to do before then.  I hope he understands that I'm not purposely trying to neglect him, but I have a lot of other things on my mind right now.  He seems to be a trooper so far, I just hope that he's not brooding inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last time that I was able to really relax was Christmas.  I spent a couple of weeks at home with my family, not doing anything.  That was amazing.  Something else that was amazing was the necklace that Chad got for me!  I love it!  He better not have spent much on it, though, because I just got him a couple of the books he wanted and a decent sweater.  I'm not sure if it lives up to the necklace I got.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-7908946494633652560?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/7908946494633652560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=7908946494633652560&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/7908946494633652560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/7908946494633652560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2008/01/finally-few-minutes.html' title='Finally, a few minutes'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-7188905741870870373</id><published>2008-01-18T18:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-18T18:46:52.230-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy new year</title><content type='html'>Heather and I weathered the Christmas storm and I went against all my better instincts and the advice of friends and bought her jewelry.  I really think Brett made a bigger deal of it than it was.  Buying your girlfriend of a few months jewelry for Christmas is not exactly the same as running off to Vegas and eloping, nor is it like being engaged.  I didn’t even put a ring of any kind on her finger, since I didn’t want her to get &lt;i&gt;too&lt;/i&gt; many ideas.  Instead, I got her a necklace – the pendant is an open gold circle with diamonds all around it on a gold chain.  I’m sure she likes it because she gushed about it to everybody after we exchanged gifts and I have actually seen her wear it, and not just on days when she knows she’s going to see me.  I think I did well.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She spent Christmas with her family and I spent Christmas with mine, although my family bugged me the entire time I was home to meet her, and evidently her family was doing the same to her.  I guess meeting the parents is inevitable, and I’m sure hers are great and I know mine are too, it can just add unnecessary stress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School started Monday – T minus five months to go before I graduate.  As much as I disliked my internship last semester, it’s going to be really weird having all that free time.  Heather is starting to think about what happens for her after graduation and apparently that is going to be grad school.  Not just any grad school...Juilliard.  It's not a done deal, but she sent in her application with a demo CD at the end of November and is going to be going to New York for a live audition.  She asked me to go with her, so we’re going to take a few days off school and work and head out to NYC at the beginning of March.  I’m sure it will be nerve-racking for her, but she is so excited about it.  She’s worked really hard and she definitely deserves something like this.  It’s evidently an honor even to get a live audition, so she’s already cleared one big hurdle.  It’s an incredible opportunity for her, and it really makes me wonder what the hell I’m going to do with &lt;i&gt;my&lt;/i&gt; life.  And, what's going to happen to us in the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would imagine, though, that the next few weeks are going to be pretty busy for her.  She really thrives on that, whereas when I get that busy I just get frustrated and want to hide out in my living room with a bottle of Jack Daniels and my PS2.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-7188905741870870373?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/7188905741870870373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=7188905741870870373&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/7188905741870870373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/7188905741870870373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2008/01/happy-new-year.html' title='Happy new year'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-7901490227413333652</id><published>2007-12-10T21:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T21:05:08.292-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A no-win situation</title><content type='html'>Well, somehow I managed to survive November (National Novel Writing Month, or National “My Girlfriend is Kind of Acting Like a Self-Centered Bitch” Month as I came to fondly think of it) Thanksgiving, my internship and the semester, and have arrived at finals week.  I’m not too concerned about finals, but Heather is naturally stressed to the max.  She spent all of dead week studying and rehearsing for her recital, which is going to be Wednesday night, and I spent it all working, drinking and eating too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of eating too much, my mom was feeling pretty good around Thanksgiving so she decided to go all out with Thanksgiving dinner.  And I mean all out.  I kept eating far beyond the point I first felt like I was going to explode, then spent the rest of the day on the couch, miserable and unable to move.  A few hours later I got up and ate some leftovers, then returned to the couch.  My brother and I were in such a food coma that we were too exhausted to even play video games.  It was good to be home, though.  I left Sheffield after work on Wednesday (Heather went home on Monday, saying she needed to get out of town to clear her mind and work on her manuscript) and got hammered with my high school friends, then stayed through the weekend.  It was nice, and tough to come back, but the little break really refreshed me for the last couple weeks of my internship, which is officially over as of last Friday.  I officially learned nothing, but my supervisor gave me rave reviews and it will look good on my resume, so rock on.  Now I have just one semester to go before graduation and the real world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent my fair share of time at Brews Brothers last week, trying to see as much of Heather as I could since she was pretty busy when she wasn't working.  Wendell and Wyatt have developed what they said was a ‘groundbreaking’ new flavor of latte – egg nog.  I was delighted to be the one to tell them that Starbucks thought of it first.  Heather told me that Brews Brothers’ is way better and I believe her, but even though I love egg nog I still don’t love latte and I won’t be trying it anytime soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I’m not stressing out about finals and I have a lot of free time this week because I requested this week off from the credit union months ago, I finally have the chance to get Christmas shopping done.  My brother is taking care of gifts for our parents, which is nice, but I still have to buy something for Heather.  Brett keeps pestering me about what kind of gift I’m going to get her, but I haven’t really decided.  I asked her to make me a list and she wrote down some pretty generic stuff, like DVDs and whatnot, but I’d like to get her something a little more meaningful.  At the same time, if I get her something &lt;i&gt;too&lt;/i&gt; meaningful it could change the entire dynamic of our relationship.  For instance, I really like to pick out jewelry, but if I get her jewelry this soon what does that say?  Does a necklace mean more than earrings?  What about a bracelet?  I could play it safe and just stick to the list, but if I do that then I look like an inconsiderate asshole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women.  You just can't win.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-7901490227413333652?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/7901490227413333652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=7901490227413333652&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/7901490227413333652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/7901490227413333652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/12/no-win-situation.html' title='A no-win situation'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-8075438837016245929</id><published>2007-11-14T00:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T00:50:11.625-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's the most something something time of the year</title><content type='html'>It's getting to be that frustrating time of the year.  Midterms, cold weather, and the wonderful stress of holidays and family.  This is the busy season for us at Brews Brothers, people walking past our store always stop in for some sort of coffee drink, or, our biggest seller, our specialty peppermint hot chocolate.  I don't know how the W's came up with it, but people freaking love that drink.  I'm not going to lie, it's a delicious drink.  But some of these people act like it's Manna from the Gods.  I guess it's kind of like me and the Shamrock Shake.  (hmm, I wonder if it's a coincidence that these are both mint-inspired drinks. . .)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To add on to everything, I've decided to do NaNoWriMo.  Yes, I've decided to write 50,000 words in one month.  Maybe a few of them will make sense.  Most likely, though, it'll be a bunch of crap.  Why do I do it?  Because, it's something that I've wanted to try to finish for a while, and maybe something to kick-start my creative juices.  No one is going to read it, I'll be sure of that.  Even though that's becoming a point of contention between me and Chad.  He thinks I'm wasting my time, that he should have a right to read it, blah blah blah.  What makes him think he has a right to read MY crap?  I know it's not good.  I don't need him to try to give me reassurance that it doesn't suck so hard.  And I sure as hell don't need him to tell me that it sucks.  Either way for him, it's a lose/lose situation, so really, I'm helping him out by not allowing him to read.  But, we'll get into our usual fight about it, once he sees me pecking away at my laptop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from that, though, everything is going well for us.  We're officially "boyfriend/girlfriend" now.  I wasn't really planning on asking him in the manner that I did, but it was a really emotional moment that I don't need to get into right now.  I think the main reason that I did it was to make it easier for both of us for Christmas.  This way, neither of us is confused about if we should get the other a gift.  Now we have to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's about bed time for me.  I'm fighting a cold, I've had a headache for the past week, and my throat is constantly sore.  I don't get sick that often, but when I do, my body goes all out.  Of course it has to happen this time of the year.  It couldn't wait for when I have 3 weeks off next month.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-8075438837016245929?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/8075438837016245929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=8075438837016245929&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/8075438837016245929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/8075438837016245929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/11/its-most-something-something-time-of.html' title='It&apos;s the most something something time of the year'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-582733007769059804</id><published>2007-11-12T18:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-12T19:06:36.369-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The daily grind</title><content type='html'>Well, November has been a busy month here in Sheffield.  I'm busy getting the life sucked out of me at my "internship," and Heather is participating in National Novel Writing Month, or "NaNoWriMo" as the insiders call it.  I had no idea Heather was even interested in writing until she informed me that she would be spending the month of November forcing out a 50,000 word novel.  It's about quantity and not quality, so it's not like she's been asking me to edit it, and I've been told that I'll "never be able to read it" because she says it's so terrible, which makes me wonder why she's continuing to write the thing at all, and she says the whole point is to make it to 50,000 words, not write the next &lt;i&gt;War and Peace&lt;/i&gt;, and then we stop talking about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're both starting to get sick, too, which is so pleasant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In news totally unrelated to Chad and Heather...is there any news totally unrelated to   Chad and Heather, or "Cheather" as Brett has taken to calling us?  Dana refers to us as the "Brangelina of Sheffield."  I'm not sure whether that's a good or a bad thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom is doing well, still doing the chemo thing, but hopefully kicking some cancer ass.  I can't imagine how she manages to be so upbeat about the whole thing, but she is.  It's like, "Cancer?  What?"  She's still working full-time.  I don't even want to work full-time now when I'm completely healthy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the grind now - I'm closing at the credit union tonight and my break is almost over.  Nothing like going to work after you get off work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-582733007769059804?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/582733007769059804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=582733007769059804&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/582733007769059804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/582733007769059804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/11/daily-grind.html' title='The daily grind'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-4261931068643306839</id><published>2007-10-23T18:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T18:55:47.262-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's official</title><content type='html'>Last night Heather came over for beers, pizza and Monday Night Football.  She hates football, but she’s a fan of beer and pizza and decided that two out of three ain’t bad.  She worked until 9, which gave me a little time to study! and take care of some stuff outside.  The weather was gorgeous yesterday, so I took the opportunity to rake some leaves and sweep off the patio downstairs.  This weekend my roommates are helping me take out the dock, something that should have been done a month ago.  I think we’re the only house left on the lake with the dock still in, so we’re going to wet suit up and take care of it on Saturday morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heather showed up about 9:30 and we ate and drank and watched football…during commercial breaks on CSI.  She’s crafty, that one.  I finally gave up the football dream and we watched the news and Letterman.  Then during a commercial Heather turned to me and said there was something she needed to talk to me about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I panicked.  I don’t know what I was panicking about, but I definitely was.  My mind was racing, thinking of anything I could possibly have done that would have pissed her off, and I couldn’t think of anything.  I’ve been very careful to not do anything stupid lately so as not to ruin the good thing we have going on.  I haven’t been to any strip clubs, haven’t gotten so hammered that I ended up walking into my next door neighbor’s house and passing out on their couch (that really happened), haven’t gotten kicked out of any bars for getting in some guy’s face about playing Nickelback on the jukebox…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It’s none of my business, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I was just wondering if you needed someone to talk to about your family stuff.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt like such a jackass at that point.  And instead of being all strong and taking the “I am a rock” approach, as I had planned to do, I broke down.  Complete, utter, sobbing, big baby breakdown.  I told Heather that my mom had breast cancer, that she was going through chemotherapy and radiation and that she was doing well but it sucks.  I told her that it’s really scary because even though my mom annoys the hell out of me on a fairly regular basis she’s also pretty damn important to me, and I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.  I told Heather that I was sorry I didn’t tell her sooner, but I didn’t know how to bring it up and I didn’t want her to feel sorry for me and I knew she was busy and had her own things going on and I didn’t want to dump on her emotionally.  I told her I really liked her and didn’t want to screw anything up by asking too much of her too soon, especially since she isn’t my girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was patient, and just listened to me.  She didn’t seem weirded out by the fact that I was crying.  In fact, when I told her my mom had cancer, even she teared up a little bit.  She went on and on saying all of the supportive things that I totally needed to hear and then she said, “Do you want me to be your girlfriend?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I paused.  Was this some kind of trick question where she would say, "Haha, you big crying loser?  See ya!"  But I decided to risk it.  “Yes,” I said.  “I have wanted you to be my girlfriend for a really long time.”  Then I added, “I’ve wanted you to be my girlfriend for a long time but I didn’t know if you felt the same way.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heather just looked at me.  Then she kissed me.  Then she said, “Chad, I would love to be your girlfriend.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Heather and I had one of those adult conversations where we talked about our feelings and were all sappy and got all sorts of things figured out.  I feel better knowing that I can open up to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now we’re official.  So official, in fact, that before we went to bed we both logged into our respective Facebook accounts and changed our relationship status to “In a Relationship with…”  It feels great to finally be able to say that.  Officially.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-4261931068643306839?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/4261931068643306839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=4261931068643306839&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4261931068643306839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4261931068643306839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/10/its-official.html' title='It&apos;s official'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-291671116946155121</id><published>2007-10-22T19:55:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T19:56:36.789-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Family stuff</title><content type='html'>Finally, a weekend off…sort of.  I had taken Sunday off from the credit union and only worked from 8 to 11 Saturday morning thinking I could take the rest of the weekend to relax a little, maybe spend some time on the lakeside enjoying what was possibly the last nice warm day until June, and hang out with Heather.  That got interrupted when I found out my mom was having a pretty bad day Saturday, and I ended up leaving after lunch to spend the night at home with my family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt really bad bailing on Heather, especially since I gave no real explanation as to what I was doing.  “Family stuff” is what I told her, which is the most generic explanation.  I hope she didn’t take it to mean “I’m seeing other people.”  I want to tell her what’s really going on, but it’s a hard thing to bring up.  Everyone I’ve told so far has done the pity thing – “Oh, I’m so sorry” – which I find to be unnecessary; it is what it is.  I mean, it’s cancer, and it sucks, but unless you gave my mom cancer, there’s no need to apologize.  I know people are just being polite, but I would almost rather they say nothing at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know Heather will be understanding and compassionate and will say all the right things just because that’s who she is, but I’m not sure I want to drag her into it.  She isn’t even officially my girlfriend, and I don’t want her to feel like I’m dumping too much emotional baggage on her too soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I’ll tell her, maybe I won’t.  But I know I have to say something more than just “family stuff” if I want her to stick around at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week should be hectic at the radio station.  There’s a new afternoon DJ (a.k.a. someone new to harass me) starting, and a contest going on where they’re giving away ten coupons every hour between 8 and 5 all week long for a free meal for two at the new sub shop in town.  I’m hoping to steal a couple of the coupons for myself, especially after Heather and I ate there on Saturday and I found out that it’s delicious.  Since I don’t get paid, I think it’s the least they can do.  Since I’m the one actually ID’ing the winners and handing coupons out when people come to pick them up, it should be easy enough to snag a couple. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I’m sure I’ll be glad when this week is over, as usual.  I’m hoping to make up for this weekend’s abandonment of Heather by taking her to the Architecture in Helsinki show on Sunday night.  We’re both pretty obsessed with them at the moment, and Heather seemed excited when I brought it up.  Maybe I’ll have figured out how to tell her about my “family stuff” by then.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-291671116946155121?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/291671116946155121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=291671116946155121&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/291671116946155121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/291671116946155121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/10/family-stuff.html' title='Family stuff'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-1792465315879521054</id><published>2007-10-22T01:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T02:04:59.522-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A weekend about nothing.</title><content type='html'>I finally had a weekend to myself, no work, no school projects, no birthday barcrawls, nothing.  It was fantastic.  Chad and I hung out for a lot of it.  We grabbed a sandwich at a new deli that just opened (best egg salad sandwich I've ever had!) and enjoyed the unseasonably warm weather.  While I am a fan of the cooler seasons, this last week of early summer-like warmth has been appreciated.  Of course, there's supposed to be a cold front coming through the area tomorrow, and this is supposed to stick.  With this front comes rain.  I think the next 5 days have a 70% chance, every day.  Just thinking about it is almost enough for me to want to start a grunge band. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, the best part about this weekend was being able to lounge around and do nothing.  At first I felt anxious, like I was supposed to be doing something the whole time, but that quickly passed.  Chad came over after he got off of work and watched a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Survivorman &lt;/span&gt;marathon on Discovery Channel.  He loves that show.  We stopped at Sub Shop (very original name) for a mid-afternoon snack, since we had been wanting to go there since it had opened a few weeks ago, and I'll probably be going all the time.  Maybe I can work out a deal with one of the guys working there, I'll give him/her coffee if he/she gives me sandwiches.  Sounds fair to me.  Chad thinks he gets a raw deal since he can't just trade bank accounts for food, but I always remind him he makes $5 more per hour than I do.  I think it balances out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chad didn't stay much longer after eating, he said he had some "family stuff" to deal with, but wouldn't go into specifics.  I hope everything's ok.  I didn't want to prod him too much about it, but maybe I'll ask him about it tomorrow.  I had my own family stuff today, my parents came into town and took me to dinner!  Somehow they had heard it was "Family Weekend" at Sheffield, so they thought they had to show up.  I was fine with it, I never turn down a free meal, especially at a place like Molto.  Plus, it's always nice to see them without feeling like I should be working on something or studying or when I'm extremely hungover.  I think they appreciate it, too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, my weekend of relaxation is coming to a close.  Tomorrow will probably bring homework, and a new week of lessons, and reality.  But the escape from it was much-needed, if only for two days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-1792465315879521054?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/1792465315879521054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=1792465315879521054&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/1792465315879521054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/1792465315879521054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/10/weekend-about-nothing.html' title='A weekend about nothing.'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-284658124837855571</id><published>2007-10-16T19:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T19:19:10.680-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The incredible mind suck</title><content type='html'>Heather and I are dating.  This is exciting, of course, but what it exactly means, I'm not sure.  I mean, we get to have sleepovers, and I buy her flowers every once in awhile, and I'm pretty sure I'm in love with her but am terrified to tell her, but when we run into people at the movies or at a bar or whatever, and I introduce her, I just say, "This is Heather."  I don't know if I'm supposed to say "This is my girlfriend."  So I just don't.  Things are going great, and I don't want to fuck anything up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The end of the summer was crazy.  There was a lot of alcohol consumed, and a lot of drunken debauchery, and a few injuries obtained while wakeboarding and windsurfing.  Luckily, Heather was around to kind of keep me in check.  If not for her, I probably would be dead.  I'm still kicking it at the lakehouse, but Devon and Derek both ended up moving out and into an apartment in Sheffield, so Devon's brother and one of his friends moved in.  They're both super smart -- engineering majors of some sort -- and don't do a whole lot of partying, which is actually kind of a nice change of pace from the summer.  The house is also a whole lot cleaner now that there aren't a hundred people tromping through the place all hours of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got an internship at a radio station, to fit in with my "communication studies" major.  I don't have a clue what I want to do with my career, but I'm pretty sure I don't want one in radio.  I thought I would get a little bit more of a behind-the-scenes look at the radio industry, but what's actually happened is that I get to do the radio industry's bitchwork, like opening mail and occasionally getting to go on Brews Brothers runs for the morning on-air "personality," Suzie Summers, who is really just a bitch.  The best part of the mind-numbing, life-sucking internship is that in addition to not learning anything, I am also not getting paid.  This means that I'm still working weekends at the credit union, and any extra hours I can squeeze in during the week when I'm not doing school or internship stuff.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom was also diagnosed with breast cancer at the end of July, and she's going through chemotherapy and doing the radiation thing.  She's lost her hair but she certainly hasn't lost her spirit, or her ability to nag me to get married and give her grandchildren.  It's been tough, but it turns out my mom's a pretty amazing person.  But on the weekends -- at least those that I'm not working my ass off -- I've been spending as much time as I can with my family.  It's actually pretty relaxing, and I've never been one to complain about homecooked meals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, that's my current life in a nutshell:  I kind of have a girlfriend (maybe), I have an internship that isn't paying me anything either money-wise or experience-wise, I'm still dispensing cash to people who are actually making money, and I have no time to spend with the aforementioned would be/could be/maybe girlfriend.  But things are pretty good.  I can't complain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-284658124837855571?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/284658124837855571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=284658124837855571&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/284658124837855571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/284658124837855571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/10/incredible-mind-suck.html' title='The incredible mind suck'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-852085013242566733</id><published>2007-10-16T11:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T19:47:14.993-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Schoole daze</title><content type='html'>I'm into my second month of classes this semester, and they're kicking my ass pretty badly.  Why does a voice major have to take calculus?  Taking on a few students hasn't helped my situation, either.  But I love kids, I love listening to them sing, I love how they don't care who hears them or what they sound like.  They just have fun.  If they could tell me how to do integrals, it would be the perfect job! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I'm still working at Brews Bros, but not nearly as often.  Between class, giving and taking private lessons, and trying to squeeze in sleeping occasionally, there aren't many hours to devote to the espresso machines.  Not that it's a bad thing, my hair doesn't smell like coffee all the time anymore (people think they like the aroma of coffee.  They haven't been around it for 8 hours a day for an entire summer.) and I've cut back on my sugary drink intake.  Plus, Wyatt got the idea that employees should start paying something for their drinks, even while on the job, so it's gotten a little less fun.  And the employee turnover that we've had has been bad.  This new crop of fresh faces seem alright, but they're nowhere near as fun as some of the old crew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chad and I are "dating" right now.  What that exactly means, who knows.  Neither of us have much time, he's doing an internship at a local radio station in addition to trying to get things lined up to graduate in the spring.  His internship isn't exactly what he expected, unfortunately.  He thought he would be assisting the DJ's, maybe running the switchboards and eventually even getting some airtime.  Instead, he's opening mail, sorting through files, listening to people bitching about each other behind their backs, and basically being a glorified secretary.  To top it off, he's not getting paid for it, so he still has to spend his weekends at the bank.  So when we do have time together, most of it is spent venting to each other, or sleeping.  He does come in to see me on my occasional shifts at Brews, but usually in the middle of the day he's so flustered he doesn't seem to enjoy his iced teas as much.  He still loves the cookies, though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-852085013242566733?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/852085013242566733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=852085013242566733&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/852085013242566733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/852085013242566733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/10/schoole-daze.html' title='Schoole daze'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-1085753308072099278</id><published>2007-07-14T10:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-14T11:30:02.360-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I've got iced coffee drinks running through my veins</title><content type='html'>Wow, I have done absolutely nothing all week long.  I've been working, but not too often, and trying to get into better shape (trying being the key word).  I've hung out with Chad maybe once, but he's out of town now for some family thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 4th of July was pretty awesome, a huge group of people got together at the lake, where the whole town was out to celebrate, it seemed.  There was a boat parade where the most adorable kids dressed up as their favorite movie characters (this was the year of Transformers, I guess.  Only one of the costumes was any good, but the kids were still super cute!), then a kind of lame ski-jump show.  The fireworks were amazing, a bunch of us went out onto the boat to watch them fire off from a wonderful viewpoint.  Of course, large amounts of alcohol were consumed, but we were always good on the boat, we always had a designated boater. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards everyone hung out, Chad and the boys pulled out some sleeping bags, so a lot of us just passed out under the stars.  I woke up pretty early the next morning, as the heat and humidity was already starting to get unbearable by 8 am.  Luckily (I guess) I had to work for most of the day, so I was in the air conditioning at Brews Brothers.  I had to keep slamming iced mochas to stay awake for most of the time, then basically crashed when I got home.  I woke up around 4 in the morning to find that I had missed about 10 calls.  Apparently everyone had gone out that night, and I missed it.  I feel like I was there, though, with all the drunk messages I had. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I need to go jog off all of the recent iced coffee drinks I've been having lately.  It's so hard to turn down the chance to sample one of Wendell's latest creations.  You'd think I'd learn my lesson by now, especially after the iced S'mores drink.  It sounds delicious in theory, but whatever the hell he put into it did not work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-1085753308072099278?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/1085753308072099278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=1085753308072099278&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/1085753308072099278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/1085753308072099278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/07/ive-got-iced-coffee-drinks-running.html' title='I&apos;ve got iced coffee drinks running through my veins'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-336930336335775416</id><published>2007-07-03T15:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-03T15:43:47.802-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fireworks</title><content type='html'>Heather's and my first date went really well.  The movie theatre was closed that night because the air conditioning went out, so we just got ice cream and went for a walk.  And talked.  As usual, time flew by.  I held Heather's hand and she seemed to get a little bit excited about it, so I took that as a good sign.  And at the end of the night, I was just going to give her a kiss on the cheek -- I wanted to be gentlemanly about it -- but she kissed me!  I like a girl who can make the first move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've both been really busy over the past week or so, but we've talked on the phone a lot, and I've seen her briefly at Brews Brothers a couple of mornings before work.  I did ask her if she would be willing to go on a second date with me, and she said yes!  As it turns out, since we're counting the last date as the first date, the dinner I cooked at my place with the flowers in the beer bottle vase wasn't a date, but that's okay.  I'm still happy with the way things turned out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I invited her to come out and spend the day with me tomorrow, and she agreed!  It's supposed to be hot and sunny -- perfect weather for the lake on the fourth of July.  There should be a few people around, what with Derek and Devon's lady friends and other random people who will be coming and going throughout the day.  I know Brett and Ambrosia will be stopping by, and Dana and some other people.  Heather is going to come late in the morning to watch the boat parade.  Apparently everyone on the lake decorates their boats and dresses up their kids and grandkids and drives around slowly for everyone else to gawk at them, and then they give prizes out later.  The theme is "Movie Magic" and the neighbor kids have Indian costumes.  I'm pretty sure they're going to roast in the sun.  They're having a ski show toward our end in the afternoon, so we probably won't even have to go anywhere to watch that, and then we'll go out in the boat for the amazing fireworks display at night.  I'm really giddy to get to spend the day with Heather, I'd better be on my best behavior!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-336930336335775416?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/336930336335775416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=336930336335775416&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/336930336335775416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/336930336335775416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/07/fireworks.html' title='Fireworks'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-1996898600872552324</id><published>2007-06-27T22:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T22:30:20.561-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A date?!?</title><content type='html'>I finally caught up with Chad today, he came into Brews Bros while I was working, and we actually had a little down time to talk.  It was nice!  And, we set up a date for tonight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may ask why I'm home at 10:00 the night of a date.  Well, we were going to catch a movie, so we headed down to the theater, only to see a sign on the door saying that they're "temporarily closed for remodeling".  This was the first that either of us had heard about a temporary closure, and since Chad knows one of the night managers there, he called him to see what the story was.  Apparently, the air conditioning went out earlier in the day, and with the ridiculous heat we've been having, they just decided to close the place for the night.  He didn't mention why they didn't just say that on the door instead of the remodeling.  Whatever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, we walked down to the ice cream shop and each got two scoops in a waffle cone, then headed out for a walk.  It had started to cool down by then, and the ice cream made it even cooler, so it turned into a lovely night for a stroll.  We made it all the way down to the park, and sat on a bench, just watching the river calmly flowing past, and talked.  I don't know if I've ever talked so much with a guy, but he's such a good talker, time just flies past!  We talked about music, some sports (I like to think I know a little bit about some sports, like baseball, so I can hold my own in a conversation) and life in Sheffield.  We decided to start walking back when the sun started hiding behind some trees.  On the way, he held my hand!  (I get so girly about stuff like that, sorry)  My place was on the way back to his car, so we stopped there, and talked some more on the doorstep.  After a few minutes, he said he needed to go, he had work in the morning, but before he could go, I leaned up and gave him a quick kiss, just like that!  A little out of the ordinary for me, but what the hell, you only live once, right?  Anyways, I think it really surprised him, he was speechless for a few seconds before he said goodnight and walked in the direction of his car. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was a wonderful night, one of the better dates I've been on in a while.  Granted, it's one of the only dates I've been on in a while, but still.  Now I think our schedules are opposing for the next few days, so who knows when I'll see or talk to him next.  I just hope he knows that I had a great time!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-1996898600872552324?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/1996898600872552324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=1996898600872552324&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/1996898600872552324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/1996898600872552324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/06/date.html' title='A date?!?'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-5664471601940255829</id><published>2007-06-27T08:10:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T08:19:54.003-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Guess who's got a date...</title><content type='html'>I finally, finally got up the nerve to call Heather. Of course, I was really busy last week (my parents came to town to harass me for a couple of days, which was nice because I ate really well during that time) and didn't get around to calling her until Friday afternoon. And of course her phone went straight to voicemail. So when I got off work I went over to Brews Brothers, and there she was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said something like, "Hey stranger!" when I walked in and waved at me as she went off to help a customer, and I grabbed the newspaper and went and sat at my usual spot after I got a smoothie. Then after awhile things settled down a little and she came and sat with me, and we talked for awhile and it was really nice. We talked about our parents and how they're awesome but really irritating a lot of the time. I told her I was sorry for not calling her when she got back into town, but I didn't know how the two-day rule applied when she'd been out of town for a week. She said it was okay, that &lt;i&gt;she&lt;/i&gt; felt bad for not calling me when she got back into town, and that for future reference the two-day rule was not necessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, we made plans for a mid-week date! Her work schedule is crazy busy right now since Wyatt and Wendell are pretty short on help over the summer, and she didn't really have a night open until tonight. We're going to see a movie and then get some ice cream -- we decided "dinner and a movie" was too cliche.  It is officially a date!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-5664471601940255829?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/5664471601940255829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=5664471601940255829&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/5664471601940255829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/5664471601940255829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/06/guess-whos-got-date.html' title='Guess who&apos;s got a date...'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-314101165006498865</id><published>2007-06-22T12:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-22T14:35:55.165-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Such a life to lead</title><content type='html'>Dana and I were supposed to go out to the lake yesterday, but an unexpected thunderstorm put an end to those plans.  And I really mean unexpected.  Everywhere I looked said that we had a 10% chance of rain.  I always figured that the 10% is just a way for the forecasters to cover their asses when they think there's no way it's going to rain, but they don't have the balls to put the precipitation chances at 0%. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyways yesterday was spent doing some much-needed cleaning around my room, and the preliminary stages of packing.  Dana and I are moving to an apartment in August.  It's a little further away from downtown, but much cheaper, so it's worth the sacrifice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was really looking forward to going to the lake, I need to unwind a little bit.  Ever since I've gotten back from our Father's Day vacation, I've been working almost non-stop, and during the times that I'm not working I'm struggling to stay awake.  I'm that lame.  Plus, it would've been nice to see Chad, I haven't seen or heard from him since that last time I was out there.  I probably should've called him to let him know I was back in town, but I figured I would've run into him at Brews Brothers.  He hasn't been in lately, though, so I don't know what's up.  I hope everything's ok.  I bet I missed a good party or two out there, he probably hooked up with some girl.  He doesn't seem like the type that would do that randomly, but then again, maybe that's his ploy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I get to go in for the 4-midnight shift, always a fun time on a Friday night.  It's not like I wanted to hang out with friends or anything.  Afterwards, I'll be too exhausted to do anything, so I'll probably be heading to bed.  It builds character, right?  I mean, not doing anything, sleeping all the time, and working.  At least I have Sunday off, I'm thinking of heading to a show downtown, one of my voice major buddies sings for a band, and I've never heard them perform.  She's invited me so many times, I may as well check it out.  Who knows, I may like them!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-314101165006498865?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/314101165006498865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=314101165006498865&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/314101165006498865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/314101165006498865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/06/such-life-to-lead.html' title='Such a life to lead'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-9192982106072638773</id><published>2007-06-19T15:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-19T15:44:20.495-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The eternal struggle</title><content type='html'>Girls have it so easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the eternal struggle of a man – the delicate balance of not seeming desperate (when we always are) while also trying to act interested (which we also always are).  It’s exhausting.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heather came over about a week and a half ago, on Friday evening, for steaks and beers and boating.  To me, that’s a date.  If I have a girl over, to my house, and &lt;i&gt;cook her a meal&lt;/i&gt; (in this case, steaks and potatoes on the grill), that’s a date.  However, the whole “casually hanging out” thing, or whatever it is that we’re doing, leaves a lot of grey area.  Did Heather think it was a date?  It’s impossible to tell.  I wanted her to think it was a date, and tried really hard to create a date-like atmosphere.  Take, for example, the patio table; I picked fresh daisies (yes, I know that they were daisies…yes, I had to e-mail my mom a picture that I had taken for her to identify them) from the ditch across the road and put them in a vase on the table.  And, okay, so what if we didn’t have a vase?  A 40-ounce Bud Light bottle from Devon and Derek’s last round of Edward 40-Hands doesn’t count?  Really, if flowers in a beer bottle on the table don’t say “date,” I don’t know what does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it’s not like the evening was awkward, because it wasn’t.  When we’re together the conversation just flows and it’s perfect.  Heather’s really funny.  And &lt;i&gt;really&lt;/i&gt; smart.  Time just flies when she and I are spending time together and I find myself not ever wanting her to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we ate we went on a slow boat cruise around the lake.  It was just around sunset and it was beautiful.  Our trip was cut short when I realized that the gas gauge was hovering around E – Devon, naturally, forgot to fill up before he left for the weekend, and in lieu of going all the way to the other end of the lake to the gas station, Heather suggested we just go back to the house and hang out.  So we sat on the end of the dock, dangling our toes in the water and talking and laughing and looking at the stars for hours that flew by in a matter of seconds.  And next thing you know Heather’s telling me that it’s late and she has to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I walked her out to her car and we hugged, and she said that she would see me when she got back from the vacation she was taking with her family – an entire &lt;i&gt;week&lt;/i&gt;.  And I really wanted to kiss her, but I didn’t know if that would be crossing some sort of line, or if it would be rushing things too much.  So, I kissed her on the cheek.  That’s a sweet thing to do, right?  And that throws out the “I really like you but I don’t want to cross a line and freak you out” vibe, doesn’t it?  God, I hope so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve gone into Brews Brothers the past couple mornings before work, but haven’t seen Heather at all.  How does the two-day rule for calling a girl after a date apply when she went on vacation for a week the day after your date?  Do I wait two days from the day she got back from vacation?  That would be today, and I’m dying to call her, and I wish there were some handbook for men that just spelled all this out for me and played out every scenario that I could possibly encounter.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or – and here’s a thought – Heather could just say, “Hey!  I like you, too!”  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wouldn’t life just be so much easier if girls would say what they’re feeling?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-9192982106072638773?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/9192982106072638773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=9192982106072638773&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/9192982106072638773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/9192982106072638773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/06/eternal-struggle.html' title='The eternal struggle'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-4434479403422786945</id><published>2007-06-18T11:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-18T12:07:44.855-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back for the attack!</title><content type='html'>For Father's Day, my family and I decided that we'd take a little vacation with Dad, anywhere that he'd like to go.  Of course he said that he didn't care as long as we were all together, but eventually he came up with seeing as many minor-league baseball parks and games as we could in a few days.  We checked schedules, drew up maps, and hit the road for almost a full week, making it to five different games!  I had a good time, I think my dad really loved it, but my mom and sister seemed like they were just along for the ride.  They did a good job of humoring us, though, and didn't bring down the mood at all.  It was too bad our brother couldn't make it, but since he has a "real job" and everything, he wasn't able to get the time off, plus he would've had to spent a few hours on the plane ride back here, then 6 days in a car, and then turn around and fly back East.  He would've enjoyed the games, but I don't know if he could've handled the trips, especially with my sister and me.  He loves us, but together, we team up on him and have the ability to make him really, really angry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend, before the trip, Chad had me over for a little boating, some steaks, and hanging out.  I had said I was going to bring beers, but when the time came to leave, I was running around trying to get ready, and just totally forgot.  I was running late, so I was a little flustered.  He had a couple there, so it was alright.  Plus, that way I didn't get too drunk to drive home again, like the last time I was out there.  We had a good time, our "boating" experience was cut short due to a lack of gas, but that was fine with me.  Chad got all bent out of shape about it, saying how Devon was supposed to take care of that before he left or something.  But Chad seemed kind of nervous and flustered most of the night for some reason, but that didn't stop him from grilling up a delicious steak for me, just the way I like it, barely past rare.  He also threw some potatoes on the grill, one of my favorite sides.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After dinner, we just sat out on the dock watching boats go by, and then the stars as they came out.  It was a beautiful night, perfect for star gazing and conversation.  Before I knew it, one a.m. rolled around, and I needed to get home.  I had work at 10 the next morning, and needed all the hours I could get since I had taken the whole next week off.  (The W's were not happy about that one, but when I told them what we were doing, they agreed to let me have a job when I came back.)  I could tell Chad was a little disappointed that I had to leave, and that I would be gone for an entire week, but he was so sweet and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek before I left. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm off to work now.  I heard from Dana that there were a couple of new people, so I guess today I'll see how they are.  I'm always so nervous about the new employees, it takes a special breed to work at the Brews Bros, not everyone makes the cut!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-4434479403422786945?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/4434479403422786945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=4434479403422786945&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4434479403422786945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4434479403422786945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/06/back-for-attack.html' title='Back for the attack!'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-1238603305669227015</id><published>2007-06-08T13:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-08T14:22:48.807-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend plans</title><content type='html'>Heather just came into work to cash a check and actually waited until I can help her even though there were tellers who were open.  We chatted for a little while about Brews Brothers and then I asked what she was up to this weekend.  She said she didn't have any definite plans, so I asked her if she wanted to come out to the house tonight to grill some steaks and go boating.  She said that would be great and that she'd be over about seven with beer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, how excited is this kid?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Devon and Derek are both out of town this weekend too, which means it will be quiet and there will be no one to fight for the boat.  The house, the boat, the lake -- all mine, and Heather's.  The lake I guess we have to share, but the house and the boat are definitely ours.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I shouldn't be so pumped about this, but damn, I am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-1238603305669227015?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/1238603305669227015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=1238603305669227015&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/1238603305669227015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/1238603305669227015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/06/weekend-plans.html' title='Weekend plans'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-1561236264787143514</id><published>2007-06-07T14:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-07T14:09:21.389-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting flustered</title><content type='html'>There’s a new girl at Brews Brothers.  Her name is Alex – I only know this because she was wearing a “Hello, My Name Is” nametag on our first encounter.  Where she got that nametag I will never know.  Maybe it’s some new thing that Wyatt came up with while he was on a coke binge or something.  I had never once seen anyone wearing a nametag of any sort in Brews Brothers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Alex is cute, I guess.  She’s kind of short and has short curly dirty blonde hair and green eyes.  I think her eyes are fake.  Not fake – I mean, her eyes are real, I just think she wears colored contacts, because they’re &lt;i&gt;too&lt;/i&gt; green.  Distractingly green, and not really in a good way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time I met Alex was yesterday morning when I ran into Brews Brothers before work.  They have new smoothies and I really like the mango papaya ones.  Brett made fun of me when I told him I was digging the mango papaya smoothie, but it tastes good and is a good way to help your hangover subside before you have to go dish out cash all day.  You’d think that touching all that money would be fun – I once got to give out $8,000 in cash – but really, after awhile it just gets depressing.  It’s like pet-sitting a cute dog; you get to play with it, but you don’t get to keep it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was pretty empty yesterday morning and there was no one at the counter when I went up to order.  Then Alex came out with her big “Hello, My Name Is” sticker and emerald green eyes.  So I started to order my mango papaya smoothie and peanut butter cookie, but she interrupted me to ask for my Brews Crew number.  (Brews Crew is this great little rewards program that Wendell came up with, where for every dollar you spend you get a certain number of points and once you hit a certain number of points you’re eligible for free drinks, etc.)  I was all flustered because she interrupted me, and I accidentally gave her the pin number for my ATM rather than my Brews Crew number, and when she put that in the computer she said “Candace?” and kind of smirked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just then Heather walked by and said “His number is 3492,” and smiled at me.  “I must be getting my numbers confused today!” I said nervously, feeling like a douche.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What can I get for you?” Alex asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was still all flustered from being interrupted and giving the wrong number, and because Heather was standing right there, putting coffee mugs back on the rack and looking absolutely adorable.  “I’ll have a mapaya…mangapaya…” I stuttered.  “M a n g o  p a p a y a smoothie.  And a peanut butter cookie.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heather was kind of chuckling to herself as she went off to help another customer, and I hope she didn’t think that I was nervous, because I wasn’t &lt;i&gt;nervous,&lt;/i&gt; per se, and I definitely hope she didn’t think that I was nervous because I like Alex, which I definitely don’t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I definitely like Heather.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-1561236264787143514?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/1561236264787143514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=1561236264787143514&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/1561236264787143514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/1561236264787143514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/06/getting-flustered.html' title='Getting flustered'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-3169418731617412695</id><published>2007-06-04T15:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-04T15:23:27.167-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A little confusion</title><content type='html'>So far, the summer has been awesome.  We threw another big bash at our house over Memorial Day weekend, except this time it was more of a three-day drunkfest.  People actually had tents set up in our yard.  There were beer bongs and keg stands and, thankfully, no cops.  We’ve been pretty adamant so far about underage people not drinking at our parties.  I don’t know if it’s working or not, but so far law enforcement hasn’t been involved, so it must be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately all the drinking, wakeboarding, and work have been interfering with spending time at Brews Brothers.  I invited Heather out for Memorial Day and was hoping she’d come and need a place to sleep over again, but she was going out of town with some of her girlfriends.  I did get her phone number, though, and she told me to call her the next time something was going on.  I really want to call her just to call her, just to say hey and talk about stuff and maybe, if I can get up the nerve, ask her out, but I didn’t want to overstep my bounds.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wyatt and Wendell have also been acting weird lately.  The week after our housewarming party, I was at Brews Brothers one morning before work and Wyatt came over and said, “Hey, stud” and kind of smiled.  This is something I’d expect from Wendell, but coming from Wyatt it was just…weird.  I was in there later and the week and Wendell said something like “Hear you had a great party” and winked.  It makes me think that maybe Heather said something to them about sleeping over, or if not Heather then Dana.  And if it was Heather, I wonder what she said.  I’ve kind of wanted to ask Wyatt or Wendell about it, but I also don’t want to make a complete ass out of myself.  I guess I’ll just have to wait and see how things play out…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-3169418731617412695?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/3169418731617412695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=3169418731617412695&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/3169418731617412695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/3169418731617412695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/06/little-confusion.html' title='A little confusion'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-1360703021444815582</id><published>2007-05-31T22:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-04T15:06:14.429-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why do I put up with these kids?</title><content type='html'>So we've had to fire some people here lately, this one chick Paula was stealing from the drawer and thought she'd get away with it.  What a bitch.  She was cute, a little too emo-looking for me, but some people go for that, so whatever.  I was pretty sneaky when I caught her, I came in to the shop one day in disguise, fake mustache and everything, and sat "reading the paper" off in one of the dark corners and had a perfect line of sight for watching her the entire time.  Money had been missing for a while, and just because I can be a little out of it from time to time, she thought I wouldn't notice.  But there's a reason that Wendell leaves me in charge of the money.  I'm smart like that.  Another dude that worked here left, but was on his way to getting fired after not showing up much.  He quit before I could get the chance to fire him.  I can't even remember his name right now and I'm not sure if I ever knew it.  Now we have to hire two new people, or give some of the other workers more hours.  Whatever.  I don't know why I can't have more say in who works here, but no.  It's always "Wyatt, so-and-so needs to be told to take shorter breaks," or "Emo-girl needs to be fired, can you handle that Wyatt?"  But when I tell Wendell that the girl with the nice legs and pretty eyes should be hired I can never be heard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there's Heather, who has been freaking out lately, worried that some guy thinks that she's some sort of floozy because she slept next to him for one night, and that's all.  I guess it's not just some guy, it's Chad, the regular of regulars.  And nothing happened, from what she's saying.  Chad's not been in here as often but it's the summer and no one comes in here as often in the summer.  She kept saying that she hopes he doesn't have the wrong ideas about her, that she's a good girl and was just drunk and needed a place to stay and thought it would be nice to have someone to lay next to overnight.  If that's the worst of her worries, then she should be alright.  I swear these kids have no idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They have no idea about why I go out all the time.  They think I'm just some creepy guy looking for some young tail.  That's only half true.  Really, I'm going out there to get ideas and to see what that crowd is into these days.  Granted my college days are behind me, way way behind me.  I guess I shouldn't really say college days, more like my college-aged days.  I never really went to college.  I moved here to go but classes just weren't my thing and cramped my style.  I once had style.  But I can still hang with the crowd and see what's what.  I get ideas for new things to use at the shop.  I hear about some local musician and try to get him to play an in-store.  I see the styles and try to influence the hiring of people who fit.  All to try to bring in the business.  The kids appreciate it but Wendell thinks I'm just some horny creepy drunk dude trying to stay in the college age.  He really knows that I'm not a drunk at least not anymore.  I did meetings and stuff man.  So what if I check girls out while I'm at the bars.  Have you seen some of the things they wear these days???  How could I not check them out?  When their boobs are out there a guy has to look.  It's written in our genes, even Wendell will look at a nice pair and make a comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways I hope Heather snaps out of this soon.  She's one of our better (and cuter) workers so we don't need her freaking out and letting things slack.  I guess if it had to happen summer is the best time.  It's too bad that I know how good of a girl she really is otherwise I might try to move in.  If I were 10 years younger of course.  Her voice is amazing.  A couple of weeks ago she had a performance or a recital or whatever they call it that I went to.  Mainly to impress this girl I was dating, making her think that I was cultured and shit.  But part of me wanted to see Heather outside of her Brews Brothers duds and I'm glad I did.  She had this dress on that could have killed a man and was glowing like an angel or something.  That dress definitely worked for her.  Taking the date to the concert worked for me.  I should probably thank Heather for inviting me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-1360703021444815582?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/1360703021444815582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=1360703021444815582&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/1360703021444815582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/1360703021444815582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/05/why-do-i-put-up-with-these-kids.html' title='Why do I put up with these kids?'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-2111145457846608831</id><published>2007-05-25T11:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-25T11:32:59.741-05:00</updated><title type='text'>work work work</title><content type='html'>I have been working constantly this week!  We lost two workers in the past couple of weeks, and I've been trying to get as many hours as I can, rent doesn't pay itself, and neither will a new outfit.  Apparently the girl we lost (it wasn't so much "lost" as she was "fired") needed some new outfits, too, because she was stealing from the drawer, and from other people's tips!  How weak is that???  The guy we lost (yes, there are a few guys that work here, and now even fewer) had recently graduated, and decided he needed to move on rather quickly.  He was planning on staying until the end of summer, but all of a sudden two days ago he quit and left town.  No two weeks or anything.  Seems like a weird situation.  Oh well, it means more money for Heather!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there was this party recently that a few friends of mine and I went to, out at a cabin by the lake.  Chad was there.  As was a lot of alcohol.  It was fun!  Chad and I talked for a long, long, long time, about nothing at all, really.  But it wasn't in a way that was weird, it was just getting to know each other, while drinking and sitting on a dock overlooking the lake.  The setting was beautiful, I might add.  Maybe next year I'll have to talk Dana and a few other girls into trying to get together and rent a place out this way.  It'll take a lot more hours at Brews Brothers, but I think it'd be worth it.  I could sit out on a bench facing the lake every night for hours, just on my own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I ended up staying at the cabin after Dana passed out.  I may be a lightweight, but I could drink her under the table without even trying.  But I must have had a little more than I thought, I kind of went to sleep in Chad's bed, with him in it.  Don't worry, nothing happened at all.  It was nice, though.  I just hope Chad doesn't get the wrong ideas&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-2111145457846608831?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/2111145457846608831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=2111145457846608831&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/2111145457846608831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/2111145457846608831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/05/work-work-work.html' title='work work work'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-4104640065857246053</id><published>2007-05-22T10:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-22T10:14:36.548-05:00</updated><title type='text'>People watching</title><content type='html'>Last night Brett and I went to Brew (the bar) because we were feeling all sociable and, well, because it was raining and the rain dampened (ha, ha) any notion I had of spending time outside.  So we went to the bar instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love to people watch.  I think it is a great pastime and it’s interesting to watch how people interact with one another.  Brett and I positioned ourselves at the end of the bar where we could see the TV (baseball!) and the door (people coming in!) and still manage to carry on a conversation and not look totally anti-social.  Nobody wants to be “those guys.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a few categories of people that we watch for while out at the bar.&lt;br /&gt;1. People we know.&lt;br /&gt;1a.  People we know and want to see.&lt;br /&gt;1b.  People we know and don’t want to see (which is usually when we turn around on our barstools, look straight ahead, or pretend to be engaged in a really important conversation).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Bar sluts.  We rank them.  There are:&lt;br /&gt;2a.  Bar Sluts in Training (B-Sits) who you can tell are going to be full-on bar sluts someday and are just learning from their older, wiser, super bar slut friends; they are heavily made up and wearing skimpy clothing but are far less aggressive than your typical bar slut.  Summer is usually the time when the B-Sits come into their own; they’ve had a full year of apprenticeship under their sorority sisters and are stepping up to the plate now that their older friends have graduated and left town.  Come fall, when &lt;i&gt;all&lt;/i&gt; the students are back in town, they will be seasoned pros.&lt;br /&gt;2b.  Super Bar Sluts.  Once B-Sits, they have now graduated to SBS status.  Their skirts are shorter, their shirts are more low-cut, and they are on the prowl.  B-Sits study their every move.  If you are of the male species and do not have a girl already hanging on you, chances are an SBS will be all over you like a rat in a cheetoh in no time flat.&lt;br /&gt;3b.  Almost Passed Out Bar Sluts.  Bar Sluts in APO status are possibly celebrating something (birthdays, graduations, negative STD checks) and have definitely been doing shots.  Bar Sluts are obviously not the only people who can fall into APO status, but they are the most entertaining to watch, because they know they’re going to puke and/or pass out soon and are trying to act sober enough to pick up a guy to take them home because their less intoxicated SBS friends already left with guys, or went to another bar to find fresh meat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. He-Man Woman Haters.  These are the guys that walk in oozing testosterone, trying to be intimidating (often successfully) and who are just looking to get into fights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Old People.  I find it interesting when people my parents’ age show up at the “cool” bars rather than the American Legion down the street.  There are times when it’s okay for parents to be at the bar – graduation, for instance, or actually any time an older person is accompanied by a college-aged student.  The rest of the time it’s just weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we were sitting at the bar, watching baseball and ranking bar sluts, Heather walked in, followed by Dana, followed by some guy I didn’t know.  She didn’t see me right away, so I turned rather quickly back to the bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Dude,” Brett said.  “There’s your friend…what’s her name?  Dana’s friend?  They’re coming over here.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pretended to needed to order something, even though I had about half a beer left.  “Hey, stranger,” Heather said.  I turned around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hey,” I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hey,” she said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hey, Brett,” Dana said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hey, Dana,” Brett said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This exchange of hellos was followed by an awkward silence and then, “Hi!  I’m Jake.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hey, I’m Brett,” Brett said, reaching over to shake hands with Jake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’m Chad,” I said, also shaking hands, and accidentally brushing Heather’s arm with my hand.  Whoa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So I’ve heard,” he said.  &lt;i&gt;What the hell?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” Jake announced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Where’s Ambrosia?” Dana asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So, what happened to you Sunday morning?” I asked Heather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Dana woke up and we got a ride back into town with some guy,” she replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You could have woken me up.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I didn’t want to do that,” she said.  “You were sleeping and all cute and stuff, so I didn’t want to wake you.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You should have woken me!  I could have made you pancakes or something.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I needed a ride back into town.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I could have given you a ride back into town,” I insisted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have left like that.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You’re right.  The next time you spend the night you should at least say goodbye in the morning.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She laughed.  “I had a really great time the other night.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I did, too,” I told her.  It was true.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dana was kind of pulling on her arm and Heather said, "I'm really sorry, but we have to get going.  We basically came in so that Jake could pee."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nice," I said.  "I see how you are...pee and run."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She and Dana both laughed.  "I'm working tomorrow from two until ten."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Maybe I'll see you," I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Maybe you will," she said, and walked away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-4104640065857246053?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/4104640065857246053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=4104640065857246053&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4104640065857246053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4104640065857246053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/05/people-watching.html' title='People watching'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-4055641347642448958</id><published>2007-05-21T14:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-21T14:12:43.336-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The summer begins</title><content type='html'>Last Thursday, or maybe it was Wednesday – all the days last week have kind of become a blur – I was at Brews Brothers in the morning, before work, and Heather wasn’t there and I was just eating a cookie and drinking some iced tea and reading (I’m now reading &lt;i&gt;Tourist Season&lt;/i&gt; by Carl Hiaasen, which was recommended to me by a friend) and suddenly I felt someone come up behind me and start scratching my back, and I turned to see who it was and it was Heather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said something lame about not having seen her for awhile, and she said that she was just getting back into the swing of things after being ill for several days.  And I said something lame about her calling me the next time she was sick so I could bring her chicken soup, and she laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I said, “What are you doing this weekend?” and she said she didn’t have any real plans, maybe grilling with her friend Charlie, and I said, “You should definitely come to my party,” and then I handed her an invitation and she said, “I will definitely be there.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, yeah, I was even more excited for Saturday than I had been previously, and I had been pretty damn excited about it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday Devon and I went and picked up the kegs – six of them – in the morning while Derek and his flavor of the week – one of Rich Girl’s rich little bimbo friends – strung up white Christmas lights.  The boat’s in now, so after we got the kegs situated we did a little bit of wakeboarding.  It was my first time out this year so I got tired pretty quickly, but it was a good time and I did a couple of 360s.  No flips yet – I decided not to kill myself the first time out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People started showing up about 5 and we threw a bunch of hot dogs and brats on the grill, tapped the first keg, and the festivities began.  The great thing about the lake being so close to Sheffield is that cabs will come out, so most people had people drop them off with the intent of cabbing it back to town, or brought sleeping bags with the intent of passing out in our living room or yard.  As long as nobody drinks and drives, I’m happy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time Heather showed up I had done a couple of keg stands and was feeling pretty good.  She came with Dana, and Dana immediately ran into a bunch of people that she knew and Heather came over and interrupted the game of beer pong that I was miserably losing.  I hope I didn’t seem too excited to see her, I don’t want to come off as overeager, but I was.  And she looked awesome in this long flowy tan skirt and blue tank top.  It’s the first time I’d seen her in casual clothes – aside from the dress (that dress…) that she wore to her recital, I’d only ever seen her in Brews Brothers polo shirt and apron.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after she showed up I made a point to finish losing beer pong, and got Heather a beer and we went and sat on the dock and talked.  And talked.  And talked.  Aside from getting up to refill beers, we talked nonstop the entire night.  I now know that Heather has two brothers (older) and one sister (younger) and that she loves yoga and used to collect My Little Ponies when she was younger.  I know that her parents are divorced and that she grew up in Denver, where she lived with her dad, and that her mom has lived all over the place but now lives in South Carolina somewhere.  I know that she decided to go to Sheffield U because her grandmother lives nearby and Heather loved the campus growing up, and she also wanted to be close because her grandmother had never really gotten to hear her sing before, and her grandma hasn’t missed a single performance in Heather’s college career.  And I know that someday she wants to teach music, but she’s not ready yet, and that she’s a cat person &lt;i&gt;and&lt;/i&gt; a dog person.  I know those things, and a lot of other things, because we talked forever.  But it flew by and it felt like we had only been talking for five minutes, not five hours, and before we knew it things were starting to get quiet and Heather said, “Well, I’d better get going.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You can’t drive home,” I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Dana and I were going to take a cab home,” she replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started walking through the yard, picking up cups and paper plates as we went, and there were lights on in the basement, which was promising.  There were a few people sleeping on the floor, most of whom I didn’t recognize, and Brett and some other guy were playing PS2 while Ambrosia slept on Brett’s lap.  “Hey, have you seen Dana?”  I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He nodded toward the back corner, where Dana was sprawled across an air mattress.  Heather sighed.  “You’re more than welcome to stay here,” I told her.  “There’s no sense in you calling a cab and going back into town by yourself.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She nodded.  “Do you have a t-shirt and shorts or something that I could wear?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we went upstairs to my room (more people passed out there, and a couple on the deck outside) and I found her a clean pair of mesh shorts and a Sheffield U t-shirt, and she went into the bathroom and changed and said, “Thanks, that’s much better.”  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Then&lt;/i&gt; she sat down on my bed and smiled and said, “You don’t mind if I sleep up here, do you?  Dana snores something fierce.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Of course you can,” I told her, silently thanking myself for washing my sheets earlier in the week and for not being a complete slob like Devon.  So she laid down and I laid down next to her, and she thanked me and I said, “You’re welcome.”  Then I started to drift off, but not before she kind of scooted over and nestled her head into my shoulder, so I put my arm around her and we fell asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the morning, she was gone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-4055641347642448958?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/4055641347642448958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=4055641347642448958&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4055641347642448958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4055641347642448958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/05/summer-begins.html' title='The summer begins'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-4108643276644637640</id><published>2007-05-16T11:49:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-16T11:49:31.814-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Whirlwind week</title><content type='html'>Last week was crazy – work, parties, live music, and unexplainable injuries.  Let’s just say that I am our household’s current Beer Pong champion, that the lake is not very warm yet, and that my left knee is so swollen that I can barely walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did manage to sneak into Brews Brothers a few times last week but there was no sign of Heather anywhere.  Damn.  I stopped in yesterday before work and Dana was there, and I wanted to ask her where Heather was because I think they’re kind of friends, but I decided not to.  I don’t want to be too obvious about it.  I think I would know if she had quit – Wyatt and Wendell usually keep me pretty up-to-date on staff changes – so maybe she just decided to take a vacation after school got out or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m really hoping to see her to invite her to the huge party we’re having this weekend to kick off the summer.  Kegs have been ordered, so the party’s officially official now, and we actually made up invitations, which is pretty impressive for three college-aged guys throwing a kegger.  They look pretty good too, if I do say so myself – I made them one day last week when I was bored at work.  I think the &lt;i&gt;Queer Eye For the Straight Guy&lt;/i&gt; guys would be impressed with my design.  I did give one to Dana, and I guess I could have given her an extra one and told her to give it to Heather if she saw her, but I really want to invite her myself so that she thinks that I really want &lt;i&gt;her&lt;/i&gt; there (not just another female body), which I do.  I guess I’ll just have to be patient and keep going to Brews Brothers at every opportunity I get.  I’m bound to run into her eventually, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-4108643276644637640?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/4108643276644637640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=4108643276644637640&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4108643276644637640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4108643276644637640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/05/whirlwind-week.html' title='Whirlwind week'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-4337506991278414201</id><published>2007-05-11T22:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T22:20:13.579-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back from the bed</title><content type='html'>So what do I do for excitement the first week of summer?  How about get deathly ill!  I got some sort of bug this week, I feel like it was food poisoning from another cookout we had.  Usually I like my burgers medium rare, but I think Charlie gave me mine straight from the cow.  And this cow got his revenge on me.  For the past few days I've barely been able to make it out of my bed, let alone make it to work.  It was a nice vacation, except for the whole vomiting part.  My next paycheck is going to be tiny, unless I pick up a ton of hours.  Just what I wanted to do over the summer.  Spend more time indoors, working with a milk steamer when the A/C goes out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I'm able to keep my food down, I feel like going to a decent place and eating a huge meal, money be damned.  Unfortunately, all everyone around here just wants to go to a burger place.  Not really high on my list of foods to eat right now.  I guess I can dine on my own.  It's never stopped me before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'll try to give Dana a call to see if she wants to lay out on her deck.  She's got a nice place, complete with a HUGE deck in the back, perfect for working on a tan.  And since I've spent the last four days inside, I'm a little restless, and very, very pale.  Something needs to be done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-4337506991278414201?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/4337506991278414201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=4337506991278414201&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4337506991278414201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4337506991278414201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/05/back-from-bed.html' title='Back from the bed'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-654321450466880260</id><published>2007-05-07T11:37:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-07T11:38:32.526-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A recital and a hot tub</title><content type='html'>So, at the last minute I decided to go to Heather’s recital.  The very last minute.  By the time I got there the lights had already gone down and I had to sit in the back row.  I then had to sit through three others singers, two girls and a guy.  They were alright.  I’m no music expert – I’m sure if I was I would have appreciated it, but they weren’t excruciatingly bad so I was alright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Heather came out and she was wearing this dress.  It was long and black and strapless with big roses on it and her hair was up and she was wearing pearls that I hope came from her dad or maybe a dead grandmother and not from her boyfriend, because really I don’t know that she doesn’t have a boyfriend.  I have just kind of been under the assumption that she doesn’t, but why wouldn’t she?  But when she came onstage she just looked radiant.  Really confident.  She’s so quiet and…timid most of the time, when I see her.  But she just kind of floated out and took the microphone and introduced herself and her last name is Leffler.  She said the name of the song she was going to sing, something in Italian that I didn’t understand, and then she was quiet for a minute.  Then the piano started and she started to sing, and I think it was the prettiest sound I have ever heard.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She sang three songs in Italian and then the two girls and the guy who had sung before her came out, and two other guys, and they sang a very pretty song together, a capella, in English, that went something like “My love’s like a red, red, rose.”  Then they all took a bow and everybody clapped and the lights came on and they left the stage and I followed people out into the entryway where there were cookies, and punch!  Who knew that such great things existed at recitals?  If I would have known about that, I would have been coming to random recitals for years just for the free refreshments.  The punch wasn’t the greatest, it was red and kind of watered down, but the cookies were great.  As I was chilling with my free refreshments, Heather and the other singers came out and a huge line of people formed to go talk to them.  Since I wasn’t sure she wanted me there in the first place, I left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was going to go out downtown but Derek called, beckoning me back to the house, to go to a party in some girl’s hot tub a few doors down from us at the lake.  So I went, had a few beers too many, and stumbled home about 2 a.m.  It wasn’t my intention to get that drunk, but the girl whose house we were at – actually her parents’, just another spoiled little rich girl living on Daddy’s dime while her parents are on a four-month safari in Africa – was irritating the hell out of me.  And Derek was forcing me to stick around so I could act as wingman, since he has his eye on one of Rich Girl’s little friends, none of whom appeared to have anything going for them intellectually.  I kind of wished that I had stuck around Heather’s recital to see what was up.  I hope she’s working tonight when I get off work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-654321450466880260?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/654321450466880260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=654321450466880260&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/654321450466880260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/654321450466880260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/05/recital-and-hot-tub.html' title='A recital and a hot tub'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-8849823929111132072</id><published>2007-05-04T18:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-04T22:00:38.240-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally done!</title><content type='html'>Last night's recital went about as I was expecting.  Everyone sang well, everyone applauded at the appropriate times, and the refreshments were sub par.  Same as always.  It's a definite relief for me to be done for the semester.  Summer couldn't start soon enough.  Of course, once I was done for with the semester, the weather turned cold and rainy, right in time for all the celebrations this weekend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the recital, I met up with a few friends downtown.  We went to a few bars, got a little out of control, and just had a great time.  I was hoping to run into this Chad guy, but never saw him.  At least, not that I can remember.  He said he may try to go to the performance, but I couldn't tell if he was there or not.  Maybe he was just being polite the other day at Brews Bros.  He was there with some other guy that I've seen around, and is dating a girl that I kind of know.  That is to say I know who she is, but I can never remember her name.  It's something unusual, like Nectar or Cinnamon or some other stripper name.  Anyways, the two guys were studying hard, so I snuck them a couple peanut butter cookies.  Brain food!  And again we had a decent conversation, but I'm not sure if Chad is that great of a conversationalist.  He was stumbling over words and spacing out or something.  Finals week must have been rough for him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm supposed to be going out tonight, but I have a huge headache, and after last night, it wouldn't hurt me to take it easy.  So a lame night for me, just sitting around watching &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Arrested Development&lt;/span&gt; DVD's.  So much for the first Friday of the summer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-8849823929111132072?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/8849823929111132072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=8849823929111132072&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/8849823929111132072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/8849823929111132072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/05/finally-done.html' title='Finally done!'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-6604993698223955686</id><published>2007-05-03T09:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-03T10:00:55.548-05:00</updated><title type='text'>An invitation, of sorts</title><content type='html'>Brett met me at Brews Brothers this morning so I could help him with some last minute cramming for his final in statistical physics.  Don’t ask me why I’m good at that stuff, but for some reason it just clicks with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were sitting there, studying, and Heather walked over and asked if she could get us anything.  I was drinking orange juice because I’ve been feeling a little bit run down the past couple days and I don’t want to get a cold, not with summer starting, and even though I didn’t really feel like drinking more orange juice, I did feel like having Heather come back over to our table.  “I’ll take some more juice, please,” I said, hoping that I sounded polite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She came back over a couple minutes later with my juice and a couple peanut butter cookies.  “You guys look like you need these,” she said, and she smiled as she set them on our table.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Thanks,” I said.  “Are you all ready for your recital?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She seemed kind of surprised.  I’m not sure if she was surprised that I was asking about it or surprise that I had remembered, or what, but she smiled.  “I think so.  I haven’t had as much time to practice as I’d like, since they’ve been so short on help here…but, yeah, I think I’m ready.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Do you get nervous?  I think I would be terrified to stand on stage in front of a bunch of people and sing.”  &lt;i&gt;Terrified, like I am right now.&lt;/i&gt;  “I mean, if I were a singer.  Which I’m not.  Definitely not…”  &lt;i&gt;Just SHUT UP, Chad!&lt;/i&gt;  “…but if I was, I think it would be just terribly nerve-racking.  Don’t you get nervous?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Not so much anymore.  I think I used to, but I’ve been doing it for such a long time that it kind of comes naturally.  Besides, most of the pieces I’m doing for my recital tonight are in Italian, so no one will know if I forget the words.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I laughed.  It wasn’t my normal laugh, either.  It was my nervous, what-do-I-say-now-so-I-don’t-sound-like-a-tool laugh.  “You should practice in here sometime,” I heard myself saying.  &lt;i&gt;Way to not sound like a tool.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heather kind of blushed a little bit, and let me tell you that it was adorable when she blushed.  “Well, I don’t know about &lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt;,” she said.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It’d be good practice.  You already have a captive audience.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I think I would get kind of nervous.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You just told me that you don’t get nervous anymore.”  &lt;i&gt;What are you doing, Chad?  You’re being a jackass.  For the love of God, shut up.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, but that’s onstage.  With the spotlights, and the piano, and the audience dark.  Singing in here would be a completely different story.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, if you ever feel like giving an impromptu recital, I’d love to listen.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just then a big group of people came in the door, saving me from the awkwardness that was becoming my life.  I have never been so happy to see customers in Brews Brothers.  Heather sighed and said, “I guess I’d better go help people.  But if you’re really interested in hearing me sing…my recital is tonight at 7 in the auditorium in Chapman Hall.”  She didn’t give me time to say anything, or to even get a feel for whether she really wanted me to go or not, she just smiled and walked away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked over at Brett, flustered.  His mouth was agape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What was that?” he asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What was what?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“&lt;i&gt;That&lt;/i&gt;.  You couldn’t even &lt;i&gt;talk&lt;/i&gt;, dude.  What the fuck?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I could so.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It sure as hell didn’t seem like it when you were babbling.  You were nervous.  You were nervous around the coffee girl.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Her name is Heather,” I said, a little bit too defensively.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, so you’re on a first name basis.  Are you going to go to her recital?”  He said it in a mocking kind of voice.  I did not appreciate his tone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’m not sure yet,” I said as I picked up my cookie.  And I really wasn’t.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-6604993698223955686?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/6604993698223955686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=6604993698223955686&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/6604993698223955686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/6604993698223955686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/05/invitation-of-sorts.html' title='An invitation, of sorts'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-1778752140532858616</id><published>2007-05-02T10:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-02T11:42:07.440-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Humming and whistling</title><content type='html'>I'm getting better at talking with customers, I really am!  Some people are easier to talk to than others, I'm mostly sticking with the regulars right now.  And I've found that when I'm not talking to people, I hum to myself when I'm wandering around.  I don't think I'm consciously doing it, it's just something to fill the empty space.  It all depends on the background music, which all depends on who is working.  If Wendell is here, it's usually something good, like Billie Holiday or Ella.  If it's Wyatt, you'll probably hear some trendy pop-punk or jam band when you visit the Brews Brothers.  Kind of makes me want to puke when Wyatt is here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of our regulars, Chad, has been starting the conversations with me, which makes things even easier!  It helps that he's pretty cute, in a sort of sleepy (not dreamy) Jake Gyllenhaal way.  And I swear I've heard him whistling along with Ella one day, which I really appreciate.  I don't know if he's just stressed from finals or what, but he seemed kind of flustered when I talked to him yesterday, he kept stumbling over words and looking a little lost or concerned.  Then again, everyone is this time of the semester, I guess. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of which, I should get going to my lesson. . .   I'm a little scatter-brained myself lately.  I don't feel ready for my recital this week, but I guess I'll be alright.  I just wish I had the night off tonight, but I'm one of the few employees that is done with exams.  Lucky me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-1778752140532858616?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/1778752140532858616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=1778752140532858616&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/1778752140532858616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/1778752140532858616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/05/humming-and-whistling.html' title='Humming and whistling'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-4784617923760648111</id><published>2007-05-01T16:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-01T16:42:43.585-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A conversation</title><content type='html'>Today Heather was humming “Lua” by Bright Eyes.  I wanted to kiss her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, I said, “Hey,” as she walked by, and she smiled at me and said “Hey” back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, she walked by again and I said, “How are you?” and she said, “I’m good, how are you?”    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I figured “on cloud nine” was not an appropriate response and I said, “Good, just studying for finals.  I’m ready to be done with the semester.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Me, too,” she said.  “How many finals do you have left?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Two,” I replied.  “I’m all done on Thursday.  What about you?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t have any more tests, just two a rehearsal and a recital on Thursday.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can imagine how I was feeling when I heard she had a recital.  It was part excitement that she might have a vocal recital, and part nervousness that she might be studying to be, say, a concert bassoonist or something.  Not that there’s anything wrong with the bassoon; I’m sure it’s a fine instrument, just not when you’re someone as attractive as Heather.  Playing the bassoon is not nearly as sexy as having a beautiful voice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Recital, huh?  What instrument do you play?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t play one.  I mean, I do, or I did…I was in band in high school and I played the flute…but I’m focusing on vocal performance now.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That’s when my heart stopped.  I’m pretty sure it didn’t start again for several seconds and I’m sure she probably thought I was mentally challenged or having a stroke or something, since it seems like minutes passed before I was able to speak.  Finally, I got it together enough to say, “Wow, vocal performance.  That’s really impressive.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, I’ve always been interested in music.  So it seemed like a good fit.  I don’t know what I’m going to do with a degree in music, but I’m sure I’ll think of something.  They always say ‘Do what you love and the money will follow’.  There has to be some truth to that, right?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn’t believe that she was still speaking to me, and I was kind of mesmerized by the sound of her voice, especially now that I knew that she was indeed a good singer.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’m sure there is.  I’m still trying to figure out what it is that I love to do.  I’m not so sure money follows when you’re reading and drinking beer.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m sure she was thinking &lt;i&gt;This guy is a complete idiot&lt;/i&gt;, but she laughed.  Then she said, “Well, it’s almost time for me to clock out, so I need to clear these tables before Wyatt has a conniption fit.  Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I said yes, maybe she would see me tomorrow, and then I left Brews Brothers, skipping down the sidewalk.  Okay, so I wasn’t really skipping, but my heart definitely was.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-4784617923760648111?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/4784617923760648111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=4784617923760648111&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4784617923760648111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4784617923760648111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/05/conversation.html' title='A conversation'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-736756846191869160</id><published>2007-04-30T15:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-30T15:33:54.289-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A day in the life</title><content type='html'>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 &lt;i&gt;(almost)&lt;/i&gt; 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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-736756846191869160?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/736756846191869160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=736756846191869160&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/736756846191869160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/736756846191869160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/04/day-in-life.html' title='A day in the life'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-1950839973672550321</id><published>2007-04-30T14:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-30T14:48:26.493-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The boys of summer</title><content type='html'>What a weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-1950839973672550321?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/1950839973672550321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=1950839973672550321&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/1950839973672550321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/1950839973672550321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/04/boys-of-summer.html' title='The boys of summer'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-6666053733153674802</id><published>2007-04-29T14:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-29T14:47:58.159-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I love weekends in the spring</title><content type='html'>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. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-6666053733153674802?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/6666053733153674802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=6666053733153674802&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/6666053733153674802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/6666053733153674802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-love-weekends-in-spring.html' title='I love weekends in the spring'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-8231964084929162437</id><published>2007-04-27T10:55:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-27T10:55:57.471-05:00</updated><title type='text'>TGIF</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Finally,&lt;/b&gt; 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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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 &lt;i&gt;home&lt;/i&gt; anymore so much as just our &lt;i&gt;hometown.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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 &lt;i&gt;The Price is Right&lt;/i&gt; 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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-8231964084929162437?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/8231964084929162437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=8231964084929162437&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/8231964084929162437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/8231964084929162437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/04/tgif.html' title='TGIF'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-6505317011424072457</id><published>2007-04-27T01:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-27T02:08:45.535-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just getting home</title><content type='html'>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. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And on that, I'm going to bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-6505317011424072457?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/6505317011424072457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=6505317011424072457&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/6505317011424072457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/6505317011424072457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/04/just-getting-home.html' title='Just getting home'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-8959847997554183086</id><published>2007-04-26T21:32:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T21:32:37.431-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Another lonely night</title><content type='html'>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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-8959847997554183086?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/8959847997554183086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=8959847997554183086&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/8959847997554183086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/8959847997554183086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/04/another-lonely-night.html' title='Another lonely night'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-341455237118750639</id><published>2007-04-26T15:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T15:12:24.502-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Regulars</title><content type='html'>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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-341455237118750639?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/341455237118750639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=341455237118750639&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/341455237118750639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/341455237118750639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/04/regulars.html' title='The Regulars'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-9014873536784105723</id><published>2007-04-26T08:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T08:32:53.054-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday morning blues</title><content type='html'>Last night Brews Brothers was &lt;i&gt;packed.&lt;/i&gt;  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 (&lt;i&gt;High Fidelity&lt;/i&gt;.  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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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 &lt;i&gt;beautiful.&lt;/i&gt;  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.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-9014873536784105723?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/9014873536784105723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=9014873536784105723&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/9014873536784105723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/9014873536784105723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/04/thursday-morning-blues.html' title='Thursday morning blues'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-4682519120119043546</id><published>2007-04-25T20:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-25T22:53:02.752-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Some thoughts between customers</title><content type='html'>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. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-4682519120119043546?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/4682519120119043546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=4682519120119043546&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4682519120119043546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4682519120119043546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/04/some-thoughts-between-customers.html' title='Some thoughts between customers'/><author><name>Flenker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17978621695330177014</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q1ky_Xsjvpo/S4gzqqcnWwI/AAAAAAAAA2E/lXRg6Jj92rA/S220/avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1241803180607513733.post-4283612366609184539</id><published>2007-04-25T18:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-25T18:42:15.507-05:00</updated><title type='text'>An Introduction</title><content type='html'>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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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 &lt;i&gt;the&lt;/i&gt; 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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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 &lt;i&gt;forget&lt;/i&gt;, 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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then I see Heather, and I think that I might be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1241803180607513733-4283612366609184539?l=asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/feeds/4283612366609184539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1241803180607513733&amp;postID=4283612366609184539&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4283612366609184539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1241803180607513733/posts/default/4283612366609184539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asthecoffeebrews.blogspot.com/2007/04/introduction.html' title='An Introduction'/><author><name>H</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14429418365969130599</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3x3SdHE8ey0/Ssixp8m9M3I/AAAAAAAAAew/qlbxF0fI_pI/S220/blogger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
