Merit Badges, Dive Bars, and Parades

I'll start with the journalling part of the blog - last night I went to a parade with some friends and their son. Usually, I despise parades, do not like the idea of facepaint, and screaming children make me want to stick something sharp and weighted into my eye to distract me from the irritation that they bring with pain, even if only for a moment. However - last night was fun, it was different, and I had a really fun time playing swords with sticks in the yard with my little buddy after we got back to their place.

Perhaps I'm growing up.

I'm going out to Halek's tonight again, my favorite dive bar that is always my back-up on Fridays when I don't have other plans. Usually I can rope a friend or two into joining me. I love Halek's for all sorts of reasons, but mostly because I'm cheap and insecure. What I have found is that Halek's mixes its drinks stronger that an average gay bar, and the old dudes in the bar are lonely and will happily shell out for a few drinks for you for a little company, which is a win-win situation for everyone. Jeff, the bartender, recognizes me when I come in the door and I've made a few other random scattered acquaintances. I have to say that I really love the fact that on a Friday night, it isn't packed, and there are free appetizers during happy hour. Paired with strong, cheap drinks, and a host of interesting elders willing to buy them for me, (oh, and the fact that its the only bar in North Minneapolis that I really want to go to) and it is a recipe for all sorts of delightful disaster. Usually resulting in my spouse having to pick me up and bring me home... as I am unable to do it myself. The bar has been open since the 1940s, and used to be very popular. It seems to be just barely hanging on right now, so I feel I should do my civic duty to preserve part of history by drinking as much as I can there, and trying to get friends to do likewise.

Yup, I'm definitely growing up. That is very responsible and considerate of me to be thinking of supporting my community.

Finally, I had a genius idea this morning. Merit badges. I want merit badges surrounding where I work. I want matching uniforms for the cool co-workers that I have, and special merit badges that we can earn. Some ideas that I have for badges are:

- have been here long enough to feel mildly superior to annoying front desk temps merit badge
- have received a nickname from the Chief Operating Officer merit badge
- have held at least two different positions within the company merit badge
- have left and come back to work here again merit badge (I know two people for sure that could have this)
- have seen (or been drunk-texted by) at least 5 co-workers drunk merit badge
- has had creepy mailroom guy go out of his way to help you merit badge
- has successfully negotiated a raise merit badge
- have gotten the executive director to get your initials engraved on something for you
- have composed and written about 3/4 of a musical based on your workplace (my favorite song from this has to do with our scary elevators that are going to give out at any second. The song "elevator of doom" has just finished and our leading lady is dangling by the last thread. our hero, the goofy custodian, saves her, using nothing but his razor-sharp wit and his suspenders. At this point, the elevator crashes to the ground while they remain safely aloft. They then sing the love song "suspended in love." Its touching, really.)

There will be more, many more. But so far I'm mostly looking into merit badges I could already have won for one reason or another. And so far, I could actually have all of the above. That's a lot of merit badges.

Ok - I haven't grown up at all.

Panty Sniffer

Everyone blogs now, right? Well, its more anonymous than keeping a journal (that people can read and attribute to the actual person - namely, me, if they were to read it), and also more transportable - meaning I can do it at work, which I love because I clearly need more distraction in life.

So let's hop right in, because I don't know if tomorrow is going to bring something cooler or weirder, or if I'm going to hit a dry patch for a while and just continue to embellish on interesting things that have happened in the past.

I love craigslist. I love to fuck with people on craigslist, and I love starting conversations I will never follow through with on craigslist (cheaper and more varied than erotica). In doing this recently, I came across a group of people that have an incredible fetish - panties. I don't know why I haven't capitalized on this in the past! I immediately responded to a post requesting panties with "I have panties..." and quickly learned guys will pay upwards of $40 for a pair of soiled undergarments with which to feed their fetish. Easy money? Count me in.

The gentleman in question and I quickly established where the pickup/dropoff would be, and negotiated $40 as a fee. I was told to put them in a plastic bag and was to meet him in a parking lot, probably not safe, but I was feeling reckless. After work, I went home and  removed my panties and put them into a bag, as requested. Then I mixed a gin & tonic for the road and drove to the Rainbow foods parking lot, and sat nervously. Waiting.

A few things went through my mind - am I crazy? Is this dangerous? Am I hot enough to make $40 for my panties?

Then I remembered that the person I had been corresponding with had refused to send me a picture of himself. I felt my mouth go dry and realized that the first guy who walked up to my truck with a peg leg and a half-melted face was probably my guy. I took another sip of my gin & tonic and wondered if my skirt made me look fat.

Nothing. I wait 20 minutes. Nothing.

I finally pull out of the parking lot, feeling completely rejected that the man who had the panty fetish had stood me up. Had he seen me from afar and thought that my poonani must smell like cabbage? C'mon, give my cooter carriers a sniff, I've never had any complaints. I think it smells a bit like potatoes.

So I get home and I sign onto my email and am about ready to e-yell at his ass, only to find about 4 emails hoping I hadn't left yet and explaining that he'd be late. We corresponded and he said he'd be there the next night.

Night 2: go home, put panties in a baggie, mix gin & tonic for the road. Get to the parking lot and pull into a spot. A cute, early 30s blond guy steps out of the car next to me and taps on the passenger side window. What? Mystery panty man? Is hot? Looks like he should be coaching little league? Cool.

Then again, Jeffrey Dahmer and Ted Bundy weren't slouches, either... I mean, look at how much Jeffrey Dahmer looks like Ryan Seacrest:

But he hopped in, shook my hand, smiled and made me feel comfortable. Said that now since we'd broken the ice hopefully things would be less strange if we met up again. Then he bid me good evening and stepped out of the truck, panty sack in paw.  I was about to ask about the $40, when I looked down and saw that he'd very discreetly put it in my purse.

He was a man of his word.

I drove home and told my husband about it - his response? "I'd sell my underwear for a lot less than that." So we're cool. Then he took me out to Target to buy a few pairs of new panties.

I received an email from my panty-loving pal later on. Apparently he was quite pleased with the product and suggested we do it again. I told him I would be happy to. He explained that I shouldn't worry about him wearing them or anything, because that's not what he does.

Of course not, because that would be weird.

I love craigslist.