Tagged: hnwcassandra

Manuscript Mondays – Lunch Date cont.

continued from here.

***

They ordered. Marie went for the veggie wrap, no broccoli, no peppers, hold the hummus, add spinach. Dakota got a peanut butter and ham grilled cheese on sourdough.

“Do you have sparkling water here?” Marie asked their waitress, Shay, who just turned and walked away.

“Okay then,” Marie muttered to herself. Dakota smiled.

“So, Marie, what got you into the fashion world?” Dakota asked, resting his hands on the table.

Marie smirked.

“What is this, a business interview?” she asked playfully.

Dakota shrugged.

“What if it was?”he responded.

“Then I would have worn a different pair of shoes,” Marie said, smiling and stretching her legs out to the side so that Dakota could see her sky-high black Louboutins.

Dakota didn’t take the bait. He kept his gaze on her face and cocked his head slightly to the side as if he was trying to catalogue a library book on a shelf where all the letters were out of order.

“So, what errands were you conducting outside of my office building?” Marie asked, changing the subject.

“Marie, do you ever get the feeling like your existence on this planet is a complete and utter waste of time?” Dakota asked, blatantly ignoring her question.

Marie blinked.

“Excuse me?” she sputtered.

“What if I was to tell you that there’s something vitally important that you have to do, somewhere far, far away from here?” he pressed on.

“I think you’ve lost your mind,” Marie replied indignantly.

“Thats fine. I just need you to remember the name Clayessa Preton. Can you do that for me, Marie? Just hold on to that name. You’re going to need it very soon now.”

Shay appeared out of nowhere with their lunch. Marie gazed down at her plate, and then looked back up at Dakota, who was staring at her intently.

“I seem to have lost my appetite,” Marie hissed, grabbing her purse and running out the door.

Dakota watched her go. Shaking his head, he sighed, picked up his sandwich in his right hand, and dematerialized into thin air.

 

True Life – I was a Stage Five Clinger, part 1.

I just looked at my site analytics and guess what my most popular posts are, internet? True stories about terrible, relationship related trauma.

Apparently you guys are jerks.

Anyways, I figured I’d regale you all with a tale of a young, naïve, sophomore year of high school Cassandra. Because if there is anything better than terrible stories about dating mishaps, it’s dating mishaps in high school. 

This is also the first true story I’ve told where there is any chance that the person involved could possibly read it. So if you find this, and you know who you are, you’ll know why I have to refer to you in this post as Cupcake.

I’m so sorry, Cupcake.

I should preface this tale by telling y’all that in high school, I had a very shady concept of how relationships worked. At the time of this tale, I had:

Gone on three dates with two different people, all terrible movies (Pirates of the Caribbean, Master of Disguise, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy), and my mom came and sat in the row behind us.

Had a whirlwind month-long pseudo-relationship.

Experienced the worst kiss of my life.

However, all around me, my friends were dating people. Like, for real dating. Like, my best friend Miks totally held hands with a guy in the hallway walking to class dating. My other best friend slash mortal enemy Boomer totally made out with someone on the robotics team who had a CAR and gave her flowers for Valentine’s day DATING.

Meanwhile, I looked like this.

hnwcassandra HAIR

Ohhhh yeah. That’s some hair.

So clearly my milkshake was bringing zero boys to my yard.

I met Cupcake through mutual friends. He was a year older than me, a foot taller, and he no longer had braces. I immediately developed a HUGE crush on him.

To this day, thinking back, I still can’t put my finger on what it was that attracted me to Cupcake, as he in no way, shape, or form resembled anyone else I’ve ever have a crush on.

I think it was just that he was so freakin’ nice. Here I was, just some dorky loser sophomore, and a junior was being nice to me.

Kryptonite.

to be continued…

The 5 weirdest Visitor’s Centre questions I’ve ever had to answer.

In no particular order.

1. “Can you tell me how big your black fly population is going to be in mid-July?”

This was a call-in from a woman who couldn’t decide what weekend she wanted to come camping. Unfortunately, I hadn’t yet conferred with the black fly government about what their plans were for repopulation.

2. “Would you happen to know of any abandoned buildings with a healthy population of dandelions in the foreground around here?”

“Sir, dandelions are wild. I cannot confirm a ‘healthy population’ of them anywhere.”

3. “What’s the street address for that waterfall? I’d like to plug it into my GPS.”

Waterfalls don’t get mail. They can’t pay taxes. They do not have street addresses.

4. “Are there any Amish communities we could tour nearby?”

They aren’t zoo animals. Leave the Amish alone.

5.”Have you ever eaten at the [local soup kitchen]? I’m going there for dinner tonight, care to join me?”

And points to the least impressive first date goes to… oh wait, no, we already covered that.

Fiction Friday #22 – Bizarro Me 4.

continued from here. 

***

“You dated somebody for pie,” Casandra-3 said incredulously.

“Like I said, I’ve had worst reasons,” I responded.

“No wonder you’ve gained so much weight,” she snorted.

“Okay,” I said, clenching my hands into fists, “if you’re going to be mean, you can just leave.”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry. I need your help with this,” Casandra-3 apologized.

“Although you do know if you punch somebody with your thumb tucked in like that, you’ll likely break your thumb,” she added. I looked down at my hands and released them.

“Whatever. Are you sure this is the right David Benetar?”

“You can’t mistake somebody with a gigantic bear tattooed across their chest.”

“Fair point,” I conceded.

“Do you have any contact information? An address, some place he works, anything?”

“All of the above,” I answered. I pulled out my phone and flipped through my contacts. David’s number was saved under THAT ASSHOLE. I handed the phone over to my counterpart.

“31 Thouse Drive. Perfect. Where does he work?”

“He doesn’t.”

“Really? You need to re-evaluate your choice of men.”

“Can we just focus on this, please?” I grumbled. Casandra-3 make a face but didn’t comment.

“Okay, so we’ve got an address, and he doesn’t work. What does he do?”

“He’s in a band with his friend Steven. Punk rock. He plays the drums.”

“Of course he does. Anything else?”

“Occasionally he’ll take a job putting up flyers for local businesses.”

Casandra-3 sighed and ran a hand through her still wet blonde hair.

“How did you guys break it off?”

I hesitated.

“He was a little sketchy on the meaning of the word ‘monogamy’. I caught him in a Sear’s parking lot with three other girls and a cross dresser.”

“Don’t you hate it when that happens,” Casandra-3 replied, handing me back my phone. “I’m gonna need you to go beg for him to take you back.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” I laughed.

“Yeah, it is.”

“I’d like to see you try.” I said, crossing my arms.

Twenty minutes later, I was in my cleanest dress, standing outside of 31 Thouse Drive.

Dammit.

to be continued. 

The Pleasant Jehovah’s Witnesses.

I had my first pleasant interaction with a Jehovah’s Witness the other day at the Visitor’s Centre.

Now, I know that most people’s first reaction to a missionary looks something that the following scene from Airplane:

But hark ye well to my tale, internet, because this is the story of The Vacationing Jehovah’s Witnesses.

And let it be a message to you all.

I work at the local visitor’s centre in Location Where I Live, State. Essentially, my job entails answering visitor’s questions about the area, things to do, cuisine, nearby counties, booking hotel rooms, events, and the like. We have a lovely selection of brochures to peruse.

These are not those brochures. This is a stock photo. Still, you get the idea. Mmmm. Look at all that information, tidily compiled in an easy-to-read format. Sexy.

Anyhow, a couple came in a few days ago looking for things to do within the next few days. The forecast said rain, so they were interested in, y’know, not being outside. Perhaps a nice historical landmark or a house tour or a museum. Something of that nature.

We got to chitchatting, as you do, and it came to light that they were volunteers.

“Volunteers?” says I, “do tell!”

Long pause.

“Jehovah’s Witnesses”, the lady admits, reluctantly, and then she waits.

Now I admit, I am not a Jehovah’s Witness. I have no idea what they stand for. I don’t really understand anything about them.

This is what I know about Jehovah’s Witnesses:

They go around and knock on people’s doors. And people find that really annoying. 

Okay, I looked it up. Jehovah’s Witnesses go around and tell people that the world is going to end soon and that they should maybe prepare for that. Which, quite honestly, knowing that they believe that the world’s time is running out, is from their point of view a really nice thing to do. If I knew the world was ending next week, the last thing I’d want to do is go around and have people slam their doors in my face.

Anyways, I may not know much about missionaries, but I do know the face of someone who expects to be made fun of when I see it, and this poor woman was expecting to get harassed. 

So I said, “Oh, that’s nice. I find volunteer work to be pretty rewarding.”

And the relief on that couple’s face was heartbreaking.

We chatted for a few more minutes.

They did not tell me that the world was ending.

I did not say anything derogatory about their beliefs.

They went on their merry way.

Now, I don’t know anything about these people and what they say to the homeowners who answer them, but I can tell when someone is used to being put down about their beliefs.

That’s called bullying, folks. This ain’t the playground.

I guess the moral of the story is that we should be a little nicer to Jehovah’s Witnesses, because when they aren’t dressed up and knocking on doors, they’re regular people who go on vacation and enjoy eating Mexican food and like history museums and have a deep conviction that God’s gonna take over the world. 

8 Drinking Games- an Infographic.

 

I was recently approached to host this drinking game graphic on my blog in return for some free publicity.

Uh, okay.

Read this and then read this more compelling article about my own drinking game experiences, which are way more fun than any of these.

Bottoms Up: Eight Great Drinking Games
Source: Best College Reviews

Need a drink now?

Try one of these.

Yoga Beauty Tips.

If you’re a regular workout-aholic like I am, you know how hard it is to stay looking fresh and clean 24/7. Some days when I wake up and (miraculously) look good, I can’t bring myself to go to workout knowing I’ll have to come home and shower and do my hair if I want to go out in public again. However, there are secret beauty benefits to going to the gym regularly besides just keeping the pounds off, and with a little routine touchup, you can maximize that payoff to keep looking good even after a workout. Here are some of my favorite beauty tips for all you gym junkies:

See more at Burn This.