Chapter 4: North Park and the Russian Giant

The very next night, Stacey and I put our game faces on and hit up the bar scene in a new area of San Diego called North Park, which is delightfully Indie-chic. Converse sneakers and side-swept bangs flock to North Park the way droolosity and rock-hardness flock to Matthew McConaughey’s abs.

While out in NP, I met an uberly tall, string bean skinny, Russian, biochemist named Ilya. Over the next couple of weeks I went out with Ilya four times. Each of our outings was entertaining and I always had a reasonably good time. But the thing was, in spite of being a nice, sweet, decent human being - Ilya was a nice, sweet, decent human being…yawn, and I liked Marc more. Also, not to totally doggy paddle around in the shallow end of the pool, but Ilya was a bit on the eye spam-ish side and I couldn’t help cringing a little every time he went in for a lip lock.

Anyways, at the end of date numero four, Ilya was clearly looking for a carnal goody bag. Instead, however, he got to sit on the opposing end of my Salvation Army couch and work out celebrity crossword puzzles…sexy right? Ilya apparently didn’t think so. As he moved in for a make-out, I halted him with 4 across: 11 letter movie title starring Ryan Reynolds and Amy Smart (Just Friends). He left shortly afterwards, never to be heard from again.

Oh well!

Chapter 3: Sailor Boy

So if you recall from previous posts, I had started a little, dating/whatever fling-thing with a Maine born, sailor boy named Marc around Halloween time. We hadn’t been dating for very long, however, before my little Gilligan decided to take a leave of absence from San Diego to return to his home in Maine for a couple of months of R&R.

Surprisingly enough, Marc and I kept up the communication while he was gone and made plans to continue hanging out once he returned to the west coast.

Initially, he told me he was due to make his grand Sandy Eggo reappearance at the end of January…

(…I hate admitting this, but in Marc‘s absence, I had sort of been holding off on dating other boys and was kind of waiting for him…strong emphasis on the “kind of.” I was obviously wide open to the idea of finding his replacement but I didn’t do a whole lot of active trolling. Plus, while he was gone, I totally romanticized the little rat because I am such a sucker for a love story where any form of pining is involved. Unrequited love stories are my favorite. So yeah, I was an eager beaver for Marc to return to San Diego so I could determine the ratio of truth to whimsical fantasy with my romarcticizations…)

But alas, he calls me one night in late January and informs me that it could be another month before he returns to San Diego. And then, when he finally does return, it might only be for 2 weeks.

…you can make that reality check out to Little Miss Pineshine for the amount of “It’s time to move on tout de suite.”

…

Chapter 2: Eddie's Place

But never fear. Soon after I flew the coop from the preschool, I landed a job hostessing/waitressing at a brand new restaurant called Eddie’s Place. The commute to Eddie’s is a kick ass 20 minutes, which totally blew my hour and a half long commute to the navy job to smithereens. Plus, the earliest shift doesn’t start until 10 am, so I can still squirrel away all of my precious z’s sans problemo. Plus plus Stacey also got a job working there, which makes the work much more entertaining.

During the dawn of my Eddie‘s Place career, aside from a few irritating kinks in the computer system, and a hand full of ‘tude-toting, queen-ish customers (Whatever happened to the fear of the booger-burger?), everything was peaches n’ cream. The work was pretty easy and the rest of the employees were a lot of fun to hang out with, especially the other hostesses, Veronica and Kayla.

The honeymoon phase didn’t last long, however. Eddie, who shall hereby be known as E.G.G. (evil, gay giant), turned out to be a little, money-grubbing whore. First, he cut our hours, then he laid off Veronica, then he took over the dinner shifts (the better tipping ones) by working them himself (bee tee dubs, Eddie gives the tip money he receives during his shifts to his cabana boy boyfriend as his “salary,” who he has playing Cinderella washing dishes because he also laid off the original dishwasher).

Plus, Eddie likes to berate the hostesses in front of customers and seems to think we all have the brains of bowls of oatmeal. Quote: “Michaela, when you run out of quarters, you can use dimes and nickels instead…because two dimes…plus a nickel…equals 25 cents!” Good to know E.G.G. And that’s coming from a guy who was born and raised in Philly, yet still managed to misspell Philadelphia, as in Philadelphia cheese steak, on all of the menus. Today’s soup is cream of dumb ass.

I still work there but I am hotly searching for new employment. Now, I just spend most of my time at Eddie’s Place fantasizing about cracking E.G.G. over his hard-boiled head with a frying pan. The guy is a millionaire! He had been retired for three years at the age of 45 and just got bored! And that’s why he decided to open a restaurant! Purely for ha ha’s!

Grrr…

Marathon Recap:

Ok. I need to do oodles of back tracking. So much has happened over the last couple of months! Gahh! So let the recapping begin!

Chapter 1: The Preschool

In the beginning of January, I was briefly employed as a Catholic preschool teacher. This job lasted for a whopping two whole days. Why only two days, you ask? Well, let’s just say, I wasn’t cut out to spend nine hours a day brandishing my power as an “authority figure” as I stifled the imagination of three year olds, all in the name of Cheese-And-Rice Superstar. Call me crazy, but I think three year olds should spend the bulk of their time playing games and making messes, not sitting silently while they complete work book exercises.

So yeah, that job bit the dust.

Buggy buggy

In Hollywood, you’ve got show-stopping performances and eye-popping beauties. But what about those Hollywood beauties whose eyes just pop? Some celebrities are recognized by their plunger lips, or by their adorable pair of dimples, while others are distinguished by their bulging peepers. The bug-eye feature is very hit or miss, however. On one hand, bug-eyes have the ability to create unconventional gorgeosity in a person, but on the other hand, they are also capable of making good faces go Muppet.

Christina Ricci falls into the former category of bug-eyed celebrities. Her sizeable peepers are reminiscent of the large, doe-eyes of Disney Princesses like Snow White and Ariel, and they only enhance her level of attractiveness. Fittingly, Christina made her acting debut in the film “Mermaids” starring opposite Cher and Winona Ryder. Since then, Christina and her Bratz doll eyes have been featured in over 30 films, including “Speed Racer,” “The Opposite of Sex,” and of course, “The Addams Family,” in which her giant peepers traded in their doe-eyed sparkle for dreary stoicism as the all together ooky Wednesday Addams.

While you’ve got the unconventional eye-candy variety of bug-eyed celebs, whose breed also incorporates actors like Mena Suvari, Jonathan Rhys Myers, and Bette Davis (the original bug-eyed belle), you’ve also got the eye-spam strain of super-sized peepers. These bug-eyed chaps are often typecast as creepy, or crazed characters - think Steve Buscemi, one of the most talented American independent film actors, who nearly always plays either a neurotic, snarky loser or a sleazy, weasel-like scumbag as in “Reservoir Dogs” and “Fargo.” Then you’ve got Christopher Walken, a versatile actor who continuously creeps out audiences with his googly eyes and off-kilter deliveries in films such as “Sleepy Hollow,” “The Deer Hunter,” and “Batman Returns.” While it’s true that Steve Buscemi and Christopher Walken may look a bit like deranged Muppets, and you may not see them in leading roles all too often, but over the course of their prolific careers, these two actors have brought to life a slew of unforgettable supporting characters, who frequently steal the show.

And then, last but certainly not least, there is Marty Feldman, who puts all of the aforementioned eye-popping celebrities to shame with his epic set of protruding peepers. Marty is a London born comedian who began his career as a comedy writer for British television shows, including several Monty Python sketches. Marty made his American television debut in the late 60’s appearing on “The Dean Martin Show” and “Dean Martin Presents the Gold Diggers.” His popularity with American audiences soared, and in 1970 he was given the chance to star in his own television series called “The Marty Feldman Comedy Machine.” In 1974, Marty and his bug-eyes, which were the result of a thyroid condition known as Graves’ disease, landed the role that they were born to play, that of Igor (Eye-gore) in Mel Brooks’ “Young Frankenstein.” In the film, many of Marty’s lines were improvised, so when Gene Wilder’s character exclaims “Damn your eyes!” it was only natural for Marty to look into the camera and say with a puckish grin, “Too late!”