Saturday, October 20, 2012
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Something about him is just "not right".
And I don't know exactly what I mean by "not right"--I guess I would have to say that if somebody told me something "shocking" about him, (ie he spent all of his "alone time" looking at wildly inappropriate materials on the internet) I would not be shocked.
There is something happening that he's not sharing.
Anyway, even though he and I don't really run in the same circles, I do manage to run into him from time to time. He is always polite and friendly. And he always coordinates a seat right next to mine.
A lot of women think that they are Creep Magnets...I just happen to have some doozey stories about this kind of thing, so when sharing Creeper stories with other women, I usually win, trumping with the tale of the guy who hid out in a dumpster of the restaurant across the street from my apartment so he could watch all of my comings and goings.
Perhaps all the stalkerific experiences from my past have simply made me hyper-vigilant about this sort of thing. Maybe he's a really nice guy who is simply misunderstood.
Or, he's a total Creeper.
Lets approach from another angle--a bit of perspective...say you're out with friends, and there is a guy who has been staring at you enough for you to notice. Do you base your Creeper Assessment on whether or not he's cute enough to make you want to stare back? Be honest...
Anyway....the same Creepy Rich Guy, nice and all, not unbearably unattractive, but not cute enough to make me want to stare back, always manages to find me at any event we happen to be attending together. The latest was one of those forced-march holiday things where they put you in a room with a bunch of people you can barely tolerate and a couple of people that you genuinely enjoy (Hey Kim and Marty!), so you spend the evening hanging out with the people you genuinely enjoy and make those audible pleasant sounds when the people you can barely tolerate make their "rounds" to wish everyone a Happy Holiday--really, you're just too nice to tell them that you'd really rather be at home right now, snuggling up with a warm cat and a blisteringly-cold martini.
Because Creepy Rich guy is, well, rich, and well known around town, he gets invited to these things, is non-committal about the invite ("...maybe I can make it...we'll see..."), then, when he shows up, it is almost unexpected. He secures dinner and drinks for himself, and generally gets everything free most of the places he goes since everybody knows him, and gosh, what a surprise to see him, since it didn't sound like he was going to make it when he was invited.
After all that, he plunks himself down in the chair next to mine and asks me if he can get me anything. Six or seven times.
There are women, I suppose, who would find this impressive. As you may have guessed, I'm not one of them. "Beware of the man buying you drinks," I always say...
It is quite possible that there is some element of imagination in all Creep Magnets--that is, maybe this is all in our heads? Maybe that guy means no harm, has no other motive than just being friendly, and he's just socially awkward? I can accept that. I mean, the guy doesn't hit on me or anything (in the traditional sense), he's just...there. Creeping me out.
But when this sort of thing happens, I tend to run through the Creeper history in my brain and remember Creepy Dumpster Guy, Creepy Bus Stop Guy, Creepy Guy In The Parking Lot After Work At 2:00AM, Creepy Dude Trying To Get Me Into His Car, Prominent Creepy Guy Who Told All My Co-workers That He Was Madly In Love With Me (I never met him), Creepy But Nice Guy Who Never Took No For An Answer, Creepy Guy Who Tried To Get Himself Invited To Thanksgiving Dinner At My House, Creepy Guy From The Hotel Who Followed Me Around, Random Crazy People who always seem to find me in a crowded room when I'm trying not to be noticed and insist that I "party" with them, along with other, less aggressive types, and I just sort of throw the Creepy Rich Guy in on the growing pile. After doing the math, I realize that there have been a LOT of people who have wanted hang out with me who would never be admitted into the fortified inner circle.
The reality is...I'm such a weirdo. Meaning, I actually have a Fortified Inner Circle--you can practically see the line on the ground. I'm such a social idiot that I can't even imagine having a large group of friends--seriously, if I don't know you, the chances of me speaking to you at all are slim to none. Mindless banter makes me twitch. If I do happen to speak to someone who doesn't know me, I always feel like I made a complete ass of myself because they maybe just wanted to talk about the weather, and I, of course, have a STORY about the weather, which is long and may be damned funny, but, they don't have the time to hear the whole thing, so they walk away in the middle of it, leaving me smacking myself on the forehead and proclaiming myself a complete moron for trying to stuff a monologue in a hole the size of a "Yup".
Ultimately, the people who eventually become my friends have taken a fair amount of time out of their lives to dedicate to this purpose. Believe me, I appreciate it. They are also, like me, story-tellers. Weird, Bizarre, or Cool things happen to them and they call me and they start off their conversations with "You would not BELIEVE what happened to me today..." and I perk right up because I love listening to stories, even more than I love telling them.
I think the difference between Creeps and Friends is the story. Creeps don't tell a lot of stories about weird, bizarre, or cool things that have happened to them. It makes you wonder what they are hiding (ie hours and hours of "alone time" looking at wildly inappropriate materials on the internet). And they also hear stories differently from other people. Usually, people just smile or laugh and move on with their day when you tell them a funny story. Creeps hear a story and internally determine that you have now invited them over for Thanksgiving Dinner, then they get pissed when you act surprised.
Anyway...considering the fairly large number of Creeps in my life and my bizarre ability to rattle them off from memory (On Comet, On Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen!), I think that I might be, maybe, a bit of a Creep Magnet. Just a little.
But, like anything else, Creeps make for some (hopefully) interesting stories. Like this one. Which I will someday use to make an ass of myself at a party. Where I will be seated next to someone who is, all the while, thinking: How come I always get stuck next to the Creeps?
Monday, April 16, 2012
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
I hate yarn stores.
I mean, I don't "hate" them, I just....*sigh*....I.....well.....I sort of do hate them.
I don't hate people who have yarn stores--what's not to like about a person who sells yarn? Honestly, I think I'm a little nuts not to like yarn stores but hear me out--there are a couple of things that yarn stores tend to do that you don't see in every retail establishment and those things are huge consumer turn-offs. I'd dislike any place that lapses into bad habits, no matter what they were selling.
Number one is....you have to put prices on things. Yes, I know, I know...you're a small and friendly shop and gosh, if people want to know how much something costs, they can ask you because you're a nice person and have no problem talking about yarn because you love it so much and you love helping people and you can't imagine why such a little thing would ever be a problem.
It's a problem.
While I am certain that you are a lovely and helpful person, the truth is, I walk into your shop with a dollar amount in mind--that dollar amount is virtually always under $50, and sometimes it's under $30. I'm not in the position to come in and clean you out of all of the chunky alpaca you have on the shelves, not that I don't want to.....trust me, I want to. If I see something beautiful and perfect and I want it and I know that I will need three of them and I don't see a price tag so I ask, and you tell me that they are $21.95 each and I was hoping for something more in the $10-$12 range, I'm going to be disappointed. Do you take some delight in disappointing me?
I say, if you're going to have a "If you have to ask, you can't afford it" yarn shop, please post a sign on the door so I can skip you entirely and go back to the internet to buy stuff.
Number two, and, I know that this is highly subjective, but I'm just going to say it: I can't tell, walking into a yarn store, if the people who work there assume that I don't know what I'm doing or if they are afraid that I know more than they do. I tend to assume it's the former, and I realize that might be a personal problem.
I'm a person who goes with their gut on most things. I don't invest heavily in the outcome because I enjoy the journey. This is especially true in my knitting. Sure, maybe I thought I would make an X in a specific way, but as I designed it and solved the various problems that occurred along the way, my X turned into a Z. So what? I'm OK with that. I still made a really spectacular Z, but more importantly, I learned HOW to make a Z, all by myself. That experience is immensely satisfying to me. It's more satisfying for me to make something that is uniquely mine than it is to be able to exactly follow a pattern. So when I say that I'm going to make a thing, and that I'll need around 600 yards of "something chunky, I'll know it when I see and touch it", you don't have to ask how many stitches per inch or what kind of needles I'll be using, then cluck when I say that don't really know and I'm not worried about it.
I know you're trying to help. I get that.
I also know that I have dozens of pairs of needles—full sets in every style—and if the 15's don't work on the swatch, I'll try something else. I know that I am ridiculously stubborn, too. As such, I'll just keep working with that yarn until it turns into something cool.
So relax, would ya? I got this. I'm old…been doing this forever.
The other, really important thing that I know is that it is my money that I'm spending, and while advice is welcome, judgment can go f*ck itself. Ultimately, it's none of your business what I do with that 400 yards of OH-MY-GOD-THAT-STUFF-IS-SO-SOFT-I-IMUST-HAVE-IT! If I'm going to go home screw up my design and project because of my poor planning and/or thought process, what's it to you?
There. I feel better. I've wanted to say those things for a while now, I just happened to have been in a few yarn shops over the weekend and was reminded of why I "hate" yarn shops, so there you go. If you are a yarn shop owner, please know that I say these things with love. I want very much to love your store, I'm just too much of a starving artist to shop at a place that seems to be geared toward bored, rich hobbyists. Clearly, that type of shopper is much better for your bottom line than I am, so I don't blame you one bit--it just isn't me. Damnit.