Feb. 23rd, 2010

skellywag: (Default)
Okay, despite the subject heading, it honestly wasn't that bad. More hilarious, actually, but I'll get to that. This past Friday, I went on a date with a guy. I'm not interested in preserving his identity, so I'll call him James, because that is his name.

Working on the beach, I see a lot of people. Therefore, it is far more likely that people will recognize me than the other way around. If someone isn't stunning or hideous or otherwise distinct, I could see them half a dozen times and not recognize them. James has nothing in the way of distinguishing features, so I don't know if I just didn't remember seeing him ever, or if he was some sort of creeper. He lives on the beach, so he'd probably seen me around. I'm hoping.

But anyway. Last week, he stops by my parking lot and we talk for a little while, at which point he mentions that I was apparently wearing bondage pants the week before (which I was, but I don't really pay all that much attention to my clothing) and he thought I liked the music group ICP (Insane Clown Posse, for the uninitiated) because of them. Which was rather strange to me, because I wear all kinds of clothes without associating myself with the stereotypes that define them. But what's really interesting is that he admitted he's part of some religious cult group that apparently worship the Christian god and ICP at the same time. Which uh. Is kind of sacrilegious, but I guess I'm not going to knock someone's religious beliefs no matter how weird I think they are. I haven't done any research on this group, because, quite frankly, I don't want to know.

But after that, he seemed mostly normal, and asked me if I wanted to get some pizza with him after I got off work on Friday. I'll admit, I wasn't really interested in dating him. I couldn't even imagine myself kissing him ever, and I'm really good at that. But I said yes, because I have a hard time saying no to people who seem nice and aren't acting arrogant or egotistical. However, I told him that since I don't have internet at my house, I spend some time on my computer after work each evening, and he said he'd meet me in the lobby of the hotel at 5:15. And I was like \o/

Friday afternoon, he stops by my parking lot again, and we talk a little longer. It turns out he's an EMT. And he told me all kinds of other things. How his driver's license is suspended, but not his special EMT driver's license. How his first check was for $3,500, but though they gave it to him on Friday, he couldn't cash it until Monday. That, as an EMT, he is allowed to prepare IVs and inject people with things. That he completed his EMT training in a month. That one of his EMT friends stabbed him in the hip with a syringe full of air as a joke. After yesterday, I am fairly certain that none of this is true, or only half-true. But I will get to that in a minute.

Friday after work, I'm just sitting down in the lobby with my laptop at 4:00, and who should walk in but James. Apparently 5:15 means "Let's sit in the lobby and stare at her until she's ready to go." Which was nearly enough to piss me off and tell him to go away. But he didn't actually talk to me or try to rush me, aside from his presence on the other couch. So I went with him to have pizza. A side note on this pizza. It was quite possibly the best thin-crust pizza I have ever had. I don't like thin-crust pizza. I like my pizza dense and almost gooey with cheese. But this pizza was amazing. The crust was full of garlic, and the mushrooms were fresh instead of from a can. I ate half the pizza without help. We talked about random things, and so I was having a good time. And then we're like, "Let's go see Shutter Island, that looks interesting." So we get into my car (because, in addition to his suspended license, he also doesn't own a car) and James comments on the fact that I've got a dog leash in my passenger seat. It's not, like, a sexy black leather leash, it's one of those plastic retractable affairs, and I had told him earlier in the day that I have a dog. (In order to take The Monster over to my mother's house, I have to put him on a leash to get him in and out of the car, or he might disappear in pursuit of a cat or armadillo.) So that was a bit odd, but I suppose he could have forgotten about my dog, in spite of telling me how much he apparently likes dogs.

And then, we have to go over to his mom's house. Since he can't cash his EMT check until Monday, he has to ask her for his emergency credit card. (Which I didn't know until after he got back into the car.) I should interject at this point that James is 20 (which I didn't know until after I'd already agreed to the pizza on Friday) and apparently mentally immature. His mother didn't give him the card, because unlike him, she realized that going to see a movie with a girl is not an emergency, no matter how desperate you are. So we didn't go see the movie. I debated going to see it by myself just because I could, but it honestly isn't a movie I can't wait for dvd for. So I went to Dairy Queen and had ice cream to get the garlic taste out of my mouth, and then went home. He said he wanted to go see a movie with me this Friday, but I didn't really see that happening even before what I found out yesterday.

Yesterday, I was talking to one of the bouncers who works in the hotel's beach bars. Apparently James to the hotel on Saturday, and was talking to him and (I think) one of the other bouncers about our date-thing on Friday. And this is what he said, though maybe not word-for-word because I was laughing so hard by the middle of it I'm not sure I remember it all very well. We went to see the movie, and James swiped his credit card to buy the tickets, and we went in and started watching the movie. A little while in, this big black bouncer guy (because apparently movie theatres have bouncers now?) comes in and tells us that James' credit card was declined, so we have to leave. It seems we didn't want to leave, so the bouncer guy grabs my wrist to try to manhandle me out of the theatre, and James apparently said something like "Get your hands off my girl" and then beat up the bouncer guy. Then the cops were called, but apparently he's friends with all the cops, so it was the bouncer guy who was arrested. Oh, and his uncle or somebody owned the theatre, so we were apologized to, and then bouncer guy was also fired.

...

akjds f;lkajsd fslkdjf sd f This cracked me up so hard. I should probably feel scandalized or insulted or something, but I just think it's funny. I mean, first of all, if someone's going to make up a story about a date with me, they probably shouldn't be telling my coworkers, who, you know, I talk to. And second of all, why not at least tell a believable story? My coworker didn't believe this story even before I told him it was all malarkey.

And to go back to all the stuff James told me about being an EMT. Yeah, we're pretty sure none of that is true, either. According to one friend of mine, it takes six months of training for someone to become an EMT, and it's only paramedics (who have a year or so of college/training) who are allowed to insert needles and run IVs and things. According to the internet, via a different friend, EMTs do not have a special driver's license, they get a special certificate, which is only valid if the driver also has a valid state driver's license. Why would anyone give you a check on one day, if you can't cash it until several days later? (I'm not positive this one was a lie, but it just sounds so stupid.) Oh, and if EMTs joke around with each other by stabbing each other with syringes of air, I hope that I never have an accident while I'm at the beach, because I don't want any of these yahoos taking me to the hospital. It'd take just one tiny mistake to end up with an air bubble in a blood vessel, and a fatal air embolism thinger.

So uh. Yeah. If I see James again this week, I'm going to ask him how the movie was. And then laugh in his face. My god. aldkjf lsdkjf ads;lkfj sdf

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Skelly

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