txalicia1's Blog

Last you heard, we were bonding with Czech teens over hot dogs. 

My NYC adventure now takes a turn to one of the world's most recognized buildings:  The Empire State Building.

If you read my earlier blog about NYC, you saw the picture of the Statue of Liberty, and saw what a gray, nasty day it was outside.  By the time we reached 5th St and 34th, it was still all gray and nasty.  You couldn't see the top of the ESB because it was clothed in clouds.  Besides, the wait was over an hour just to get inside, and it was a cool 37 degrees outside.  We decided to do more sightseeing and put the ESB off until later... it's open til midnight, and  the day was slowly getting clearer as it progessed on. 

So about 9:30 pm, we decided to head back to the wonder that is the tallest building in NYC.  My boyfriend Brain and I decided to go up, and his dad decided to stay on the ground because he said 20 bucks just to go to the observation deck was ridiculous.

As we entered the building, I noticed that the decor is very egotistical.  All you see inside the building is pictures of the Empire State Building!  But still, it was kinda cool.  We took the escalators up to the second floor, where we paid 20 bucks each for what we were told wouldn't be a very good view.  (I didn't care.  I was in NYC, dangit, and I was going to the top of the Empire State Building.)

The first elevator took us to somewhere around the 70th floor.  Then we had to switch to get on another elevator that took us to the 86th floor (the observation deck.)  To go between elevators, you navigate through this maze of rooms all roped off because of ongoing construction.  It was this that we found our biggest ESB suprise.  This was a poster that was posted along with a "Pardon our Construction" sign:

Both Brian and I about died with laughter.  Why?  Because this guy looks exactly like our pastor of our church... and he's in a postition that makes him look like the Construction Guy from the Village People!  I have never seen a likeness as close as this guy and the my pastor.  We took a picture just for him.  (He about DIED when I gave it to him, too.)

After we settled ourselves to mere giggles, we kept treading along and finally got to enjoy the lovely sights of New York from 86 stories:

It was COLD.  Cold and more cold.  But it was lovely.  Here's a funny conversation that took place between me and the boyfriend while we were standing up there:

Alicia: So, Brian, we're standing at the top of the Empire State Building.

Brian: Yup.

Alicia:  Well, aren't you going to kiss me?

Brian: Huh?  There are like... people up here... tons of people...  (he's quite shy)

Alicia:  BRIAN!  You really can't take me to the top of the Empire State Building and not kiss me.  That's like, couple LAW.  It's just wrong if you don't!  It's the most romantic thing in the whole wide world! 

Brian:  Uh, I guess...  Fine, whatever. 

Next Stories:  Rockefeller Center, Times Square, Every Starbucks in Manhattan, Sledding, The Texan's Guide to Snow, and The Best and Worst Plane Trip Ever.

New York City.  The great city of the world; the city at the center of the center of everything.  Everything you could want to buy is sold there.  There's noise, pollution, and more pedestrians than I've ever seen in my entire life.  There's little pizza joints owned by 3 generations, great architectual feets, and lights!  Everywhere, there are buildings! Things to look at!

Me, my boyfriend, and his dad (a Brooklyn native, therefore, an awesome tourguide) began our journey. 

We drove to Brooklyn, and parked on the street, and took the subway to Manhattan.  From there, we immediately hopped the Staten Island Ferry and took a ride past the Statue of Liberty, pictured below.

After we had gotten back to Manhattan via the Staten Island Ferry, we walked North-- And boy, did we WALK!  We decided to stick to Broadway going North...The southernmost 40 streets in Manhattan are named, and then they begin with numbers... Bleeker St, Bond St, then 3rd Street (random, I know.)  After that, they begin to be the famous numbered streets we've all heard about (34th Street, 50th Sreet, etc.) (Do the math, at Rockefeller Center, which is at 50th street, we'd walked nearly 100.)

So there I was, fresh out of the Staten Island Ferry, ready to explore a place that I've always dreamed to go. 

There's one tradition that is required for tourism in NYC:  Try a hot dog off of a street vendor.

So we found the first hot dog guy we could and quickly bought 3.  Being gentlemen, Brian and his dad let me recieve mine first.  I stepped up to the cart.  "One hotdog, mustard and ketchup."  As soon as the vendor gave me my hot dog and I got ready to try an American classic, I was perturbed by a shiny silver thing in my pheriphreal vision to my right. 

I quickly glanced over.

There were four teenagers, muttering quickly in a language I could not recognize (I'm pretty good about at least recognizing what language people are speaking) and one of them was holding a digital camera, pointing it at my hot dog.  He began to speak in his native tongue:  "Afdglkjfkgjh akjdhthierufh skkfjgheiurredl dkfwe r (this is what it sounded like to me) fkrjhyoekfr elkrgjdlfk lekjrtlkejfdvg  lskdjrlwekjree REAL AMERICAN HOT DOG."

I was taken aback.  They were filming my hot dog!  I realized that my hot dog was going to be in some kid's video diary, probably end up on MySpace, and be in some Albanian photo album that he was going to show his friends and family.  I was going to be on this kid's computer for as long as he kept this video, to be seen by people I don't know and probably never will meet.

I decided that if I was ever going to have a chance to be in a video diary halfway across the world, this was it. 

I decided to take the first bite for the camera.  I took a big chomp, chewed, smiled, licked my lips, and gave a thumbs up.  These two gestures cross every language.  I think I might have even waved.  The teenager loved it. 

I stood back to let Brian get a hot dog, and since the kid was still filming the hot dog stand, I casually asked the girl of the group standing closest to me, "So, where are ya'll from?"

She quickly gave me a worried look and looked to the other girl in the group for help.  The other girl realized what I had said and stammered out "Czech Republic!" 

We ate our hot dogs and kept trekking up Broadway to midtown.  About 30 blocks after this occurance, we saw the four Czech teenagers buying hot dogs of their own. 

I hope they had fun in NYC!  I know I did!

Upcoming stories:  The Construction Poster, the Ride to the Top, Rockefeller Center, Times Square, Every Starbucks in Manhattan, Sledding, The Texan's Guide to Snow, and The Best and Worst Plane Trip Ever.

Hello, my lovely friends!!

Well, to give you all a little update, I've still suffered through the job at the Mexican Restaurant.  The tips have gotten a lot better (but still, please, educate your friends) and we did go to New York CIty!  It was amazing,  I'll have all the pictures up soon!

Sorry about disappearing for a month... loss of the boring office job in addition to my sister breaking the laptop equals that Alicia doesn't get to enjoy writing her blog...

But I'm back, and I'm still with the boyfriend (it's really very cute.  We just celebrated 6 months, and we're still not sick of eachother) And now that the laptop's fixed, I'll be stealing it from my sister every couple o' days or so to throw out a cute story or a delimma.

I start UHCL on Monday and Im stopping by the Employment office tomorrow (thanks for the tip.)

I have so many stories to tell from my trip!!  Stories include The Czech Kids, the Costruction Poster, the Homeless Guy, Sledding, and other such stories!

Adios for now! 

We take a break from the Restaurant Blogs to bring you this lil' blog:

So today my life is kinda where I stand on the edge of the cliff and go, "Hmm, what do I do now?

I finished my 2 year degree yesterday at a community college.  And today's my last day at the office job.  I used to have school, work, and other work to show for my life, but now, I only have my crappy job at the restaurant. 

In January, I'll start my junior year at U of H Clear Lake.  And I'm trying to find another nice, peaceful office job in which I can, if need be, finish up my class papers.  (I'm an English major, so I'm looking at writing 2 papers every week or so.)   

(Anyone hiring an office assistant / secretary in Clear Lake, La Porte, or Deer Park, lemme know!)

But for now, while I go through the same job oppertunities that were posted online yesterday, I'm sitting at a crossroads wondering "Well, what now?"

I've come to the attention that my blogs the past couple of days haven't been very humorous or witty, so I've decided to tell you the Japanese Guy Story.

This story happened yesterday while I was hard at work at my Mexican Food Restaurant.  A group of 6 guys sat in my section about 8:00 and I noticed (I mean, how could you not) that they were all men dressed in business attire, and they all were Japanese.

Sweet!  I LOVE meeting people from other cultures!  I would love to visit Japan some day!  (I'd go to Japan wearing a cowboy hat and a Pat Green t-shirt!)

So I said "Hi, welcome to ______, my name's Alicia and I'll be takin' care of you today.  What can I get ya'll to drink?"

And as soon as they opened their mouths to speak, I discovered that these guys weren't just Japanese, they were, like, just-got-off-the-plane Japanese!  Of course, one guy ordered a Coke.  I've heard that Asian people typically order Coke (It took all that's in me to refrain from asking him if Diet Coke in Japan is really called "Coke Lite" because their government there is called the "Diet".)  And most of them ordered alcohol.  One guy, the elder of the group, ordered a Bud.  I decided that they wanted to have as American a time as they could have, so I laughed, joked, and served them up their Coke and Water and Bud as they wished.   Working in a mexican food restaurant, I've gotten pretty good at talking with my hands (I don't know Spanish for "Could you please wipe down table 34 so we can seat more guests there?") So it was easier than I thought to communicate with these fine gentlemen.  They got a kick out of me, happy and smiling and giggling.

But seriously, Just to hear a middle-age Japanese guy in suspenders say "Buddwhisah on drahft!" Was the BEST! 

Only one of these dudes spoke any decent kind of English, so he was the appointed translator for the night.  The other guys could say "Enchilada" and "Thank you" and of course "Buddwhisah on drahft!" but that was really about it.  Half of them ordered the one dish our restaurant really perfected, one guy ordered a combination plate (and INHALED the tamale), and all the enchiladas were gone before I knew what happened, lol.

I finally got up the courage to ask them the question every traveler should be asked, so I walked up to the table, and said:

"Now, I know this is silly because you're all clearly native Texans, but what brought you to my humble restaurant today?"

One spoke up and said "We hahve business meeeting in Pahsahdenah!"

"Well, welcome to Texas.  Hope you boys have a fun time while you're here."

While getting something for another table, I saw one of my guys stand up and kinda do that wondering meander around the room.  I walked up to him and I said "Honey, can I help you?"  he said "Whhereh is thah um, um..." and he put his head down the way I did when I couldn't remember a word in French class.  "The bathroom?" I finished.  "Yhes!  Yhes!  Thah bathhroom!"  and I showed him where it was.

When it was time to bring the bill, I was a little nervous.  They had run up a $92.00 bill.  So they have bills in Japan?  Would they try to pay me in Yen?  One of the younger guys put forth his credit card to the bill.  The credit card was an international VISA, half in Japanese, half in English.  It was really a cool-lookin' piece of plastic. 

I ran the guy's credit card, and it worked (thank God) and put the credit card, the two recipts, and my pen all together, and dropped it off in front of the man who gave me the credit card, and walked away.  Always like to give a little privacy when it comes to tipping.

But then I saw something that slightly disturbed me.  He studied the credit card reciept, then muttered something in Japanese, and pushed it over for his buddy to look at.  This reciept has nothing on it besides the amount the bill was, the tip line, the total, and the signature line.    Oh God, they can't read the reciept.  Would they know where to put the tip?  Would they know how much to put?  Please, God, don't let them have heard that BS about 15%! Would they try to tip me in Yen on the table?  Is tipping even customary in Japan?  Do they think I make anything more that $2.13 and hour?? 

At one point, nearly all of them were standing over the reciept, talking in Japanese.  I was laughing, because even if they didn't tip me, they were the coolest guys I'd ever met while waitressing. 

They wrote something down on the credit card slip and left.  I waved them goodbye, and went to get my credit card reciept (we have to turn them in at the end of the night.)

They'd figured out where everything was, and tipped me 15 bucks!  And they guy even signed his name in Japanese.  It was pretty cool.  My managers were all staring at it in wonder and saying, "That is like the coolest thing ever."

So there's my Japanese guy story!

It's come to my attention (and by "my attention," I mean there's nights I leave work with 12 bucks in my pocket) that some people have no idea what to tip a waitress.

I try really hard to be understanding.  I do.  Some people just don't know.  Some people just can't afford to leave $8 (I've been there, trust me).  Some people forgot their wallet and can come up with just enough for the bill--it happens.  Some people think that the rule of tipping 15% was created by The Waiters of America. 

Let's clear up some misconceptions.

Always, always, at least, leave 5 bucks on the table.  Again, your waiter has to eat, pay rent, possibly pay child support or be a single mom just trying to get by.... and all of that depends on what you put down on that table.  The only way I would condone putting anything less that 5 bucks is if you ask your waiter for something, and you can see them in the back, laughing, joking, and not caring that you told them you needed something.  If you haven't told them, don't get mad, an alarm doesn't go off in our heads the moment your Coke's empty.  

Reward good service, forgive bad service.  Sure, we don't mind going to your table to see that you've left a $10.  That makes our day.  We go back in the back and say "Wow, table 7 just left me 10 bucks.  How nice of them!"  For bad service, there are a trillion reasons you could have bad service.  Your waitress could have just found out her boyfriend was cheating on her with her best friend, and she can't cry her eyes out because you need more Root Beer.  Be a little understanding.  Tonight, I'm going to work, and I have a monster cold.  I won't be as fast as I usually am. So not only am I really sick, and at work, I'm probably going to get really sucky tips.

 That 15% rule is BLEEP.  Throw it out the window.  Really, we don't see our tip as a percentage of your total bill.  We see that $3 as "well, I guess I'll have to eat off the dollar menu at taco bell."  Whatever you do, don't make us eat off the dollar menu!  We're human beings, too!

You're not telling us anything about ourselves when you tip.  AKA, tipping based on service is stupid.  We won't look at your $4 and say "Wow, I guess I should have refilled their drinks more often."  We say "That table I worked my butt off for left me $4!?  What?!  Cheapskates!"

If you leave a flyer for church, make sure a nice tip goes along with it.  Nothing would turn a non-Christian off more than when their table leaves them $3 and a church flyer.  Always make sure your church flyer is with a $7 or higher tip.  I've only ever had one church flyer given to me, and it included an $8 tip.  If you realize that your waiter's a Christian, too, practice what John said ("They will know you are my disciples by how you love one another")  and leave your Christian brother/sister a nice tip to say "It was awesome to meet another Child of God."

Realize that we actually don't get all of our tip.  At the end of the night, we are required to give the restaurant money based on our total sales (AKA what all of the bills from all our tables add up to)  Therefore, we have to give the restaurant somewhere between 2 and 5% of our total sales (differs on the restaurant)...   Let's say I sold $400 bucks of food the entire night... I would have to give 5% of $400...  They also take a portion of any tips I make from credit cards...   So if you've left me 15%, I actually only get 7% or so.  Let's say it's a bad night, and I've sold $450 of food, but I've only made $30 in tips.... I'm only going home with $10 because the other $20 I had to fork over to the restaurant.  It's lame, I know, but that's how it's done. 

If you have seperate checks, make sure the tips add up to a decent number. Everyone seems to think "Oh, Bill will leave her $8, so I'll just leave her $1.48."  But see, Bill thought the same about you.  Get over being shy and talk to the other people about what you gave the waitress.  Make sure it adds up to at least $7 for a reasonably-priced meal... Seperate checks give waitresses a headache and your extra few dollars will enable me to buy some aspirin on the way home.

We don't get minimum wage.  Stop tipping like we do. We make a little over $2 an hour as our salary.  I don't know how they get around the $5.75 rule, but they do.

It doesn't matter what my bill is, I'm a flat-rate tipper.  Really?  Your bill is $200 and you're still going to leave us $6?  Your bill means more work that we had to do, more pina coladas we had to carry from the bar (Do you really need six rounds of drinks, anyway?!) just keep that in mind as you put the cash on the table.

Leave me a great tip, and I'll give you amazing service every time you come in. Seriously, if your tip is at least a $10, the next time you come and sit in our section (be sure to ask for us,) we'll remember what you want to drink, what kind of beans you like, and we'll remember to tell the kitchen to skip the sour cream.  When you reward someone, they reward you back.

We're busy and you're mad the food took so long, and so we're only making you pay for half your food. THIS DOES NOT GIVE YOU AN EXCUSE TO NOT TIP.  Remember, the waiter has NO control over how long the food takes to prepare.  We can't make the kitchen move your order to the front of the line.  Therefore, we are in the back helplessly begging the kitchen to hurry so you won't be mad anymore... and you still don't tip us.  What's up with that?

Regulars get perks.  For real. The managers know who our regulars are, and they reward them.  We have one couple who comes in four times a week-- the managers joke that they pay the light bill.  I know they've given them free meals on several occasions.  Find a restaurant you like and go there.  Often.  Be friendly, and get to know the waiter's names.  Rewards will follow. 

The Monetary Guide to Tipping (for a modest $30-$50 dollar bill):

$5-$7 = "thanks for serving us.  You did a decent job."

$8-$9 = "you did a really good job, and thank you."

$10- $20 = "we really want to make you smile with our tip.  Merry Christmas, and we loved how you were so friendly and fun the entire time."

The smallest tip I've ever recieved was none.  I've been stiffed three times:

1. The Queso took too long (we took it off the bill), but they didn't look like they were having a good day, and they still didn't leave me anything... how rude.

2. They forgot their wallet, and came up with just enough for the bill.  I totally understood.  It happens to everyone. 

3.  I didn't see that the hostess had sat me, and they sat there for about 4 minutes before I noticed they were there.  After that, I gave them extremely amazing service, and they still stiffed me.  Wow, I didn't know people could be that mean.  It was an accident.  It's not like I noticed you were sitting there and didn't care.

Possibly the worst tip ever was when the guy wrote "Best service I've ever recieved" on the credit card slip and left me $3.  Come on.  You actually tell me I did an amazing job and you don't even reflect it in your tip.   Maybe he usually tips $2 and really stepped out of his box to leave me three whole dollars, but seriously, dude.

The biggest tip I've ever recieved was $30 on a $25 bill.

I was chatting it up with this great, friendly, funny table of 4 and the guy asked me, "So, Alicia, why are you a waitress?"

"Well, sir, I wanted to save up for this trip I'm taking for Christmas to New York.  We'll be in central New York, but we'll be visiting the City." 

"The City's a great place."  We chatted and laughed after this for a long time.  These people were the most gracious, curteous, nicest people you could ever meet.

So this guy left me $10 on the credit card slip, and he came back to give me $20 in cash and he told me "Save this for New York.  Don't spend it on food.  I hope you have a wonderful trip, and Merry Christmas."  I think at that moment, I about died with gratitude.

Hope this has been helpful!

Restaurant Lingo 101

I have a lot to say about the restaurant business, and I've started many blogs to explain what I love (decently sized blog) and what I hate (gargantuan sized blog), but I always realize the average reader has no idea about the terminology I'm using.  So here, for you, I present Restaurant Lingo 101:

"Getting Sat" --when customers sit in your section.  When I'm casually chatting it up with a friend about my weekend and a hostess sits someone in my section, I stop talking and say, "Ah, hold on, I just got sat."  This comes in many forms:  ("I just...) "Got sat", ("I am...) "Getting sat", ("I asked the hostess to...) "Seat me" etc. 

"Double Sat" --the dreaded foe of waiters.  When two tables get sat at the same time, it's very hectic to take care of  both of them.  Or worse, you get "triple sat".  This is where you start glaring at the hostesses.  Instead of 3 Cokes and a Dr Pepper for table 17, you are having to get 3 Cokes and a Dr Pepper for table 17, two Miller Lites, a water, and a tea for table 18, and a Sprite, a kid's lemonade, a Root Beer, and a Diet Coke for table 19.  Not to mention that they all need a refill at about the same time, they are all ready to order at about the same time, and their food all comes out at about the same time, and they all tend to want their check at about the same time, and leave at about the same time.  And then, guess what happens?  The hostesses see that you have 3 tables open, and they triple seat you again.

"Top" --   Our way of saying how many people are sitting at our table.  For example, a table with 3 people is a "3 top", a table of 5 people is a "5 top", a table with 2 people is a "2 top".  I think you get the idea.  We use this way of describing our tables because  saying "that 3 top all ordered alcohol and now I have to go to the bar" is less annoying than "that 16 top all ordered alcohol and now I have to go to the bar,"  which, as you can imagine, is a daunting task to carry 16 alcoholic beverages.  We also use this to say things like  "Hey, take this sour cream to that older guy at my 6 top."

"Big Top" -- Anything more than 6 or 7 people sitting at one table can be called a "Big Top." Usually, depending on the number of people, nobody wants to take care of these tables (That's a WHOLE other blog in itself.)  But if you have to push 2 tables together, it's called a "Big Top."

"Side work" -- This is all the tasks we have to do once the restaurant is closed.  Depending on the restaurant, this may take 10 minutes or may take several hours.  It depends on how the restaurant divides the sidework, or if it's one of those small, family-owned places.  Usually at my restaurant, to clean my section, refill the sugar packets, salt, pepper, and to do sidework takes an hour and a half to two hours.

"911" -- Okay, okay, my bad.  Your burrito was supposed to have chicken fajita instead of ground beef.  Whenever we have a situation where we've screwed up the food, we do what we call  a 911.  The kitchen has a line of tickets that are in the order of when the food was given to them by the waiters (computer or handwritten) and almost nothing can change this order.  But if an emergency such as your burrito has occured and we need to get the food out quickly, we'll "911 it" and make the kitchen stop everything, fix your burrito, give it to the waiter, and then they can go back to working on the sea of tickets they were working on.   Sometimes this can still take a long time depending on how long we have to cook another burrito, cook some more refried beans, etc. 

"The Line"-- that magic metal counter that divides the kitchen from the tray area.  Many things from many different tickets are on The Line at the same time, so whenever we "accidently grabbed the wrong enchilada off the line,"  you'll understand.

Now that you know the general lingo, prepare for a group of blogs all about the crazy world of the restaurant business, such as

"Why big tops make waiters want to pull their hair out"

"Common misconceptions in restaurant etiqutte"

"What annoys your waiter the most"

"Things that your waiter will not do"

I asure you, it will be a fun, semi-hilarious journey.

Imagine- just imagine (I won't ask you to close your eyes, because you need to keep reading, lol) when I came onto my humble blog this morning as soon as I got to the office.... and wow!  16 Comments!  That's like... 2 1/2 times a bajillion!  (Math was never my strong point.)

Thank you, thank you, for my wonderful welcome into the blogger community! Nice to meet the mayor (honored, Your Blogness), the local minister (Peace be with you), and the local meteorologist (I'll blame you when it gets too cold).  Sassy, you get an A for enthusiasm!  And the comments about the "l" word being "lesbian"... I nearly fell out of my chair.  That's just plain hilarious.

And now, as Chassan commanded (hey, I do what I can to make the readers smile,) my blog about my weekend!  Duh duh DUH!!!

This weekend, I worked.  A LOT.  Friday night, I worked.  Saturday, I worked a double (that's 10:30 AM to 10:30 PM, plus cleanup).  Sunday night, I worked.  The restaurant business is one of those that thrives while other people are off of their jobs, so I enjoyed a long weekend smelling like Queso dip.  It sucked, to be sure, but I'm about a hundred bucks richer.  And I'm getting some killer calf muscles. 

One day, I'll enlighten everyone about the joys (pft) of working in the restaurant business.

I don't have this job because I terribly need it, but because I'm saving up for a trip I'm taking in the latter part of December.  The Boyfriend and I are going to visit his family in Central New York.  I'm really excited.  I originally just got the job to pay for the airfare, some warm cothes, and food for about 4 days (his mom cooks.  A lot.  I don't intend to eat out much.) but I've saved more than I thought I would (YAY!) and my mom decided she wanted to pay for my plane ticket (thanks, mom!) 

I'll finally have a white Christmas.   Rural, but white.

His family lives out in the country.  His mom grew up in a town that he describes as "a town which only their family occupied," and his dad grew up in Brooklyn. They settled in a town of about 30,000 people, and when both their sons moved out, the parents moved to a little town down the highway where they now reside between The Post Office and The Town Square.  I believe The Stop Sign is close.  A town where cows outnumber people; I'll be shocked if I see a McDonalds. 

I confess, the usual bit of nervousness that one would expect in such an occassion as meeting your boyfriend's entire extended family in one day after you've just been on a plane for 4 hours is getting to me, even now.  The Boyfriend is slowly pushing out those fears, however, with fears about how cold it's going to be. 

I guess I should be grateful that he's taking my mind off his family, but by God, if he wanted me to be nervous about being cold for the entire week, he's done his job in spades.  I mean, I'm from Houston, Texas.  The heaviest thing I own is my sister's old high school hoodie (Um, by the way, sister, I borrowed your hoodie.  Hope you don't mind.)  He's been telling me horror stories of Snow Camp and frostbite while you sleep... just insanely cold things.  I've never been north of Huntsville in the wintertime.  Needless to say, I've been buying a lot of things to help me stay warm.  I bought my first turtleneck since the age of 10... and I recently learned to knit so I'm busy knitting away a scarf for myself. 

So I've been saving up a lot of money just to buy some warm clothes for the trip.  I have to buy hats, gloves, boots... who knew you needed all this BLEEP just to not be cold?! 

Actually, as I'm typing this right now, he sent me the week's weather forecast for where we're going to be.  (Stormchaser, I'm putting you in heaven...)  Apparently for the next week, it's never going to get above 32 degrees.  Chance of snow or snow showers every day.  I think I'll take a space heater or maybe I'll just wrangle the core of the sun and keep it in my purse...

One thing that pushes all that out of my brain, however, is the fact that we get to visit New York City.  As a depraved travel junkie, this is the epitome of travel in America.  It's the cutural and economic capital of America.  So many buildings!  So many places I've only seen in movies!  I'm ridiculously excited.  I want to buy coin purses off the street, see Times Square, get my picture taken at the top of the Empire State Building, get those hidious Lady Liberty green foamy things you wear on your head, see Ground Zero, and take a stroll (in the daytime) through Central Park.   I want to eat at a restaurant only to realize that Donald Trump is sitting at the next table.  I want to go to restaurants where the menu isn't in English or Spanish, and Chinese food delivery guys ride bikes. 

Needless to say, I'm relishing in the fact that in 2 1/2 weeks, I'll be in a city that's a farm of buildings, people, and cheesy tourist shops!  The only thing NYC doesn't have is amazing tex mex.  I will miss you, tex mex! I'm going to smuggle salsa from Taqueria Del Sol on the airplane.  I would die without great tex mex and mexican food.

The rest of the time we aren't enjoying the pennical American city, we're going to be having snow fights, building snowmen, driving around the countryside, sipping hot chocolate in front of the fire, cooking and more cooking, sleeping late, and of course, a lot of giggling over silly stuff his family said.

So this weekend, I spent the entire weekend working toward 8 days of fun in New York.

Other things I did with my weekend include watching the movie Red Dragon and going to an awesome burger joint in Pearland called 9ers.  (Beltway 8 and Blackhawk)  Order the burger with avocado on it.  Yummy!

See you tomorrow!

Do people actually read these things?

I suppose I should introduce myself to the 2 1/2 people who will actually read this (I'm grateful for you, my readers!) 

My name is Alicia.  Nice to meet you (shakes hand).  What's your name?

I'm 21 years old, I have an office job I'm about to lose, I wait tables at a very busy mexican food restaurant, and I'm in college to get a piece of paper that says I'm very smart.  I was born and raised a Houstonian.  Humourous things happen to me.  I do normal things and make up wacky reasons as to why I do them.  I'm very old-fashioned.

On to the actual blog... it's sort of difficult to think of what to write in a blog. 

Mmm, I suppose I'll tell you what I did this past weekend and maybe we'll find a story somewhere along the journey.

This weekend, on Sunday, my boyfriend and I went down to enjoy Dickens on the Strand.   I haven't been since my senior year of high school, and I really REALLY missed all the fun, pomp, and cheesy magicians that line the concrete/brick streets of Galveston's Strand District.  We got down there about 11:00, and wondered around, looking at muffs and glass and an assortment of items that best goes under the category of "random BLEEP." 

I've been wanting to build a Victorian costume for the longest time, so we shopped.  Well, I shopped.  He did a lot of purse-holding.  I bought nearly all the nessecary under-layers of the dress (still missing the hoop shirt and petticoats)  while he sipped $4 iced tea and looked around to see all the women dressed in their costumes.  

I felt a sense of pride because, generally (and I'll never admit this to his face) my boyfriend knows everything.  He's a very smart guy.  But in this case, he didn't know a chemise from a petticoat, so it was my day to be the teacher.   I pointed out nearly all the ladies I saw in dresses and tried to tell him what kind of woman would wear that dress (governor's wife, teacher, mother) and what year the pattern or style was from (I saw from the civil war to around 1890).  He learned a lot, but all he seems to tell our friends about the experience was, "Yeah, I got to look at other women all day." 

My English-major self was put into heaven as I visited the exhibit they had from the Charles Dickens Museum and talked to a very nice (and by nice I mean cute) British chap.  We also enjoyed the parade, the choirs, and this amazing young lady who did flips and rolls only wrapped up in ribbon hanging to the ground.

Afterwards, we went to chill and watch TV at his apartment.  We were having a nice little smalltalk chat and he said something that ended with "......but I love you anyway."

As a girl, my "L-Word" sensors started to go off like a 5 alarm fire in my head.  We've been dating for nearly 5 months, and my cool, calm, level-headed boyfriend who never says what he feels suddenly blurts out the L word?! Sure, we've been close friends for two years now, but I didn't expect for the L word to drop until at LEAST month 6! 

I said, without hiding my excitement, "What?"

"What?"

"You said the L word!"

"Yeah, and?"

"Did you mean it?"

"Yeah."

"Oh my God!"

"Why are you making such a big deal out of it?"

"It's just a big deal to girls!"

"What's such the big deal with saying 'I love you'?"

"A very big deal!  I gotta call Carla (my best friend)!" (I run for my cell phone)

"You're making too much outta this."

"The only way you would say that is if you didn't mean it."

"I did!  I figured this was as good a time as any."

"I love you too."

"Good.  I was getting worried there.  I said it twice and you didn't say it back.  Don't scare me like that!""

So those were my stories from the weekend.  What did you think?