Saturday, December 03, 2011

Don't Read This If You Can't Stand Whiners.


I can't believe this bothers me this much. Just this morning I was going through my typical lazy-ass Saturday routine: procrastinating and being alone. Then BAM! My aunt shows me a picture that shatters all my naïve bubble fantasies.

She was talking about how one of the doctors at work was bugging and begging for her to send him the picture she took of him and his date last night at a Christmas party. (Thank Jeebus that I didn't go with my aunt and uncle last night, since I'd probably be a soaking mess of lard and alcohol. Dammit, stop the fat jokes!) The doctor is a cool guy. He's friendly and there's nothing I hated about him before what I found out this morning. I mean he said hello to me in the hospital when I had my appendix taken out. Sure he was there for work but he didn't have to stop by. I'm easily impressed (by the way, my itunes playlist of Taking Back Sunday is not really helping right now). I now wish he hadn't visited me or that he wasn't so friendly to me because now I can't hate him for going on a date with this girl (more on that). Now all I can be is jelly.

When my aunt tells me this anecdote I don't pay too much mind. I think to myself how cool that the doctor is enjoying life and dating. I tell my aunt that I thought he was married since he mentioned he had to visit family abroad. I assumed wrong (you, ass!). This conversation is happening as I gorge myself in wonderful holiday rolls (I think it was coconut roll). It tasted good going down my throat. It was sweet.

A couple of minutes pass after the comment and then BAM! My aunt shows me the photo of doctor and his date. I didn't ask to see the pic. I was finishing up probably a second slice of that empty calorie dessert (redundant). Oh, why did you have to show me that, Tita. Instead I just smile while inside me something cracks wide open and my mind starts sloshing possible songs that I will be playing in the presently happening pity party of one. (Ghost Man on Third is playing right now and it matches my mood. So sue me for listening to emo music right now, okay? Let me be.)

The picture was of the poor iPhone 3GS quality. Mostly because it was a dark restaurant, face-to-face, we-are-two-happy people type. It's like the doctor doesn't even know what he's doing. His grin is wide like how it was when he asked me in the hospital how I felt.

I'd rather grow another appendix and have it go berserk than have to find out that the girl from work that I was crushing on was dating the nice doctor. Not that I had a chance anyway, but not only am I jelly of the doctor but now I have to pretend to be happy for them both if it ever comes up. Please nobody talk about them dating in front of me. I'll be fine, just don't talk about people being with people or general happiness for a while, like for a period of never.

Whatever. The playlist is almost done and the coconut dessert has settled in my gut (soon to be fat on my belly). I think I better start working-out so that I don't emotionally vomit on my blog every time a girl I like dates another dude.

End Rant.

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

This is a hospital not a Red Lobster.

There was this young latina in the ER today who did not speak any English. The nurse at the front desk asked me to bring food to her but she I was having trouble communicating to her. It's happened before-- people in the hospital think I'm Hispanic which is pretty cool since I've been mistaken for chino all my life. As I brought her some hospital sandwiches I pointed to one and said "tuna" which she responded with "tuna". I guess "tuna" means "tuna" in Spanish. But then I pointed to a turkey sandwich and did not receive a similar response. I quickly considered miming a chicken action but I didn't know if cockle-doodling would translate into Spanish since it was turkey sandwich anyway and not a fucking pollo one.

Her boyfriend (I assume that's who he was) was there for the emergency and I think her mother/aunt/grandmother. It's funny though, the older lady did not look anything like this girl. The girl was petite, or in my case, just my size. When I say petite though, I don't mean in the pixie-ish white girl kind of way. If you saw her in the woods you wouldn't think she was a smurf or elf. This girl had a nice shape to her so I tried my best to communicate to her. Her boyfriend was pushing the tuna back to me and after I said a bunch of things in Spanish I heard her say something like "no comprende". I assume she was saying I don't understand so then I just say to her lucky boyfriend "no te gusta?" Then I hear the word "otro" so I guess he just wanted something other than tuna, or maybe the bastard was just so fucking hungry that he wanted me to go back to the fridge to get another plate of dry-ass hospital bread and meat/fish combo dish.


This girl was cute so I went to get more anyway. I thought my mission was complete while I was chilling at the front desk when she walked over to me. Damn! Was she going to hug me? Kiss me? Thank me for feeding her hungry future ex-boyfriend? Was she going to confess her love for me?

(Dammit, Asukal, this is why you suck: you think one day some girl is going to do this exact same shit. You're the dude. Either you start taking chances with girls--with life--or you'll waste your life waiting for something so stupid that you think is blog-worthy.

She walked up to me and since she knew I didn't speak Spanish (actually, she probably thought I was just a better option than the white folks in the ER) she half-mimed an action that resembled eating out of a bowl. I gave them sandwiches not soup du jour so that did not make too much sense. She also said some Spanish and I heard "abierto". Fuck whatever that means. I used my lighting fast skills to use the Tagalog words for fork and spoon and she smiled and said "si".

We had no forks in the department and I didn't feel like going out of my way for her boyfriend so I just got some plastic spoons from the back. Then she reminded me and said something with the word "tomar". It was okay since she mimed lifting her closed hand up to her mouth and tilting it up-- she wanted somethings to drink. I volunteer in a hospital, by the way, not in Red Lobster (although the RL my family went to for Memorial day had horrible service that included the waiter spilling ice on our table and forgetting that we don't eat with our hands and need utensils to eat our vegetarian calamari). So I give her some juice.

This experience at least showed me that I'd like to one day be with a Latina chick and use my fake Spanish to communicate to her while I hold her close (actually, I always think about holding girls close).