Tuesday, June 07, 2005
While I scampered across the lava field, leaping like an idiot and trying not to crash headfirst into the muck, my boss was off drumming up business. Maybe drumming is a bit strong an adjective; tapping lightly with a pencil, we'll say. Translation: he passed out a business card to other volcano-seekers.
Turns out, the card was not a polite acceptance but a serious inquiry. The man and his wife stopped by today.
Headphones closed off my ears to the outside world as I attempted to secure a tailgate to the farm truck. The State vehicle inspector claimed there was too much rust on the rear of the truck and would not pass the poor thing (a bunch of shite. The guy obviously has no clue about structural integrity). Our hope is that the tailgate will 'solve' the problem and we can renew the license plates. Back to the story. Thru the music I thought I heard B call my name. I paused and uncovered my ears. Nothing. Until I heard banging on a window; I sprinted up the hill (gotta get my exercise, ya know?) and almost ran into a woman I'd never seen before. To say I was shocked is an understatement. My first thought was that it was a revenge-seeking model. Her husband (and their age) eliminated this notion.
Long story short, it was the couple B met at the volcano. They'd come to see the farm and maybe buy some coffee. B was on the phone so I took over host duties and paraded them thru our processing facility and explained the process (I swear I didn't make anything up. And they didn't seem to mind the occasional slurred, mumble cover-ups. Eventually B arrived and peppered them with his long-winded, meandering stories.
I continued working, and he took them on a driving tour of the farm. When they returned, I was stationed in the packaging room, ready to fulfill their every desire (coffee-related, anyway). B marketed well-they left with 4 pounds of coffee. Unfortunately for me, I had to return some of my coffee stash to fill their order. Gotta go roast some more tomorrow so that I have something to drink!
Now comes the truly entertaining part. Running off to get informational papers or something, I was left alone with the couple. As I filled their bags, we chatted. They asked for my story. Telling them that though I am an intern, I am not preparing for a career in coffee-farming. I am merely brushing off the so-called 'real world' while pondering a career change. Countering, my length of visit on the planet was recommended.
(Sidenote: I love the Daily Show!)
Back we go. While I gave my actual age (29. I'm old!), it felt like a lie. I keep forgetting how old I am. Not 27 anymore, and not 30 yet. Their surprise was evident. However, their estimate of my age far exceeded any I've gotten in the last few months: they thought I was 18 or 19! No, as far as I could tell they were not drunk (though he giggled a lot...).
To top it all off, the guy offered me a job and left me his email address! Me, a dirty long-haired society drop-out! Awesome. Unfortunately, the job is as a salesman (not my fortee) for a pharmaceutical company (the devil). A nice gesture, and something to fall back on I guess.
Boom, sha lacka lacka boom!
That being side, time for solutions. Next time the Sith Lord subjects you to this torture you can fix the situation. Clutch your hands to your heart area, gasp, and fall over onto the floor. Extra points for foaming mouth and twitching.
Jump up and down screeching like a monkey. Wear red underwear (practice your precognitino skills to know what day to wear them) and flash them in imitation of the red assed monkeys.
Or, stand on your chair, whip out your arse, and tell her to plant a big wet one on it (if you choose this option, you must first do some reconnaissance: make sure she isn't keen on you. Then get down off your chair and quit. And work on a coffee farm.
Ya know, I don't need to sell my soul for you to grow out your hair and work on a farm. Quit making excuses!
As to your solutions, well first off let me say that they about made me fall off my chair laughing. However, after serious consideration and a shot of Hot Damn, I have decided to attempt option one.
Option three can only be performed after I return from my bacchanalian interlude, so I will continue to be paid and earn vacation time while drinking myself into oblivion on some foreign shore.
Option two is already expected of me, as I tend to wear red underwear and flash them at work, while screeching, quite often. Though the screeching is not usually in imitation of a monkey, I feel the familiarity of this solution would render the solution itself useless.
Thanks for your advice, Corey! I am happy to hear that you now have a communicative roomie. And remember this, 11 years age difference will feel like only 7 years age difference 5 years from now and only about 3 years age difference 10 years from now. (Do THAT math, Mr. Wizard!) It is all about perspective, eh?
So you have a getaway planned, eh? Where to and when do you leave? A month long is one hell of a healthy vacation. Nice work! If it's truly in the bacchanalian spirit, I'm jealous! Have some bacch for me, and/or send some my way.
Yes, things are going to be much better around here. I don't understand your math in regards to the age thing, but that's not a big concern. Perhaps those are the math skills that justify, to some men, their dating a woman decades younger? It all makes sense (not really) to me now...
Let me know how dealing with the Sith Lord goes.
As for you drinking Hot Damn...I didn't know they still made that. Sorry, but I'll take Jaeg over that anyday.
Anytime you need advice, about anything, I am here and willing to dispense inanities.
So my celebration of baccha begins around the same time you return to the windy city. I will start my interlude by visiting the isle of green, where the playful leprechauns will hopefully leave pots o’ gold at my feet, while I sleep off hangovers on the beach. From there, I go to the shores that house Nessy, in hopes of photographing that lovely, lithe creature to prove once and for all her existence upon this earth. Finally, I will end up in the country that gave birth to rock and roll’s best guitarist, Eddie Van Halen, and also spawned the granddaddy of all reality TV shows, your favorite and mine, Big Brother.
And why is it that the assumption is always the man who is robbing the cradle? Aren’t women as lustful as men? Of course, I believe I am asking the wrong person, considering not long ago you were thinking of cuddling with the new roomie….
Enjoy the time away. Just remember, anytime you think about work-take a shot (or pound a Guinness). Punch you-know-who with every shot you take (unless you are not who I think you are, then you-know-who no longer has any validity).
I've heard rumors that women can be as lustful as men. However, it seems that anytime stories of that nature or real-life examples pop their heads up, it's not directed at me. Therefore, I can only vouch for the lustful nature of men with any basis in fact. You'll find no arguments from me when it comes to robbing the cradle, no matter which sex is doing the robbing.
I wasn't really going to cuddle with my roommate, I swear! He's bigger than me. Besides, I prefer my cuddle-mates to be soft and warm and smell good (and have hooters).
So, the trip was the telling clue, eh? I thought it might be, although I wasn't sure that my presence had been shared with you. Who knew that a punch in the arm would leave such an impression...
A punch in the arm always leaves an impression-good or bad. A reason for the trip had to be divulged, hence the appearance of your presence
And I have to ask, keeping in mind that this is a public forum and anyone can read it, do you think he is crazy for agreeing to come with me?
That said, I'll move on.
I don't think it's crazy at all for him to have agreed to go on this trip with you. Granted I don't know you, but that's beside the point. Not enough people do something so spontaneous and fun, and I think it's awesome that you guys are doing this!