Spring break arrived in a Pinto with a bad transmission, but it's on a runaway train to OVER. How in the name of James is it Friday already?! SMH. Originally, I made tentative plans to for a trip to NYC, and my manager was kind enough to approve my time off request for this week, but my plans fell through. Who's surprised though? I was looking forward my time off even though I wouldn't be making my 4th pilgrimage to the Big Apple. I've been really exhausted from subbing and working at HN&S in the evenings, and I HAVE been putting in the work because car payments, so I thought that a week of working nowhere would be just what the doctor ordered. (I'm sorry. Are y'all sick of hearing about my car? You'll be aight.) However, after I looked at my spring break schedule on the HN&S website and saw all of those unpaid days off, I told my manager that I would work 3 days of my staycation since they're short-staffed anyway. One cashier transferred, 3 quit, 1 is on maternity leave, another got married and is honeymooning even as we speak, and one wanted to spend spring break with her kids. So there's my good deed for the month. Bless me Lord! Oh, wait you did. I won't have a short paycheck next week. Thank-you!
You know, I often wonder about fate. Take last night at HN&S, for instance. If I'd opted to keep the three vacation days I gave up, would I have met a handsome, middle-aged Irishman who thinks I'm beautiful, thinks I look 20 years younger than my 44 years, and now has my phone number? NOPE.
It all started when I accidentally pulled a customer who was waiting at another register into my line in front of him because I didn't see him. I apologized profusely and he told me how beautiful he thought I was. I said thank you and he was about to walk away when I asked him about his accent. He told me he was from Ireland,,and when he asked for my number, I gave it to him, almost without hesitation. The accent made me do it, y'all. I am WEAK for an accent, especially Caribbean, Irish, Scottish, or French. (And YES I KNOW that the Caribbean is not a country in and of itself, but the accents there all have that same lilting melody to me and I gets WEEEEEEAK when I hear one.) He covered my hand with his--I felt some heat, y'all--and told me that he would call me.
I'm a visual person, so here's a mini-collage of some Irish actors (that I've always been a wee bit hot in the tail for) so that my visual readers can get a visual.
He doesn't look like (young) Gabriel Byrne, Robert Sheehan, or Cillian Murphy. "My" Irishman doesn't "look" like an Irishman at all. He looks like Peter Gabriel, but not from his "Sledgehammer" days, rather like Peter Gabriel if you ran into him at the Wal-Mart today... buying a sledgehammer. Yep, Great Value Peter Gabriel! HA! So handsome with beautiful blue eyes.
*Picking this post up 2 days later. It's hard writing a post all at one time, yall.*
He didn't call me until yesterday afternoon, when I was already formulating a "men ain't shyte" post in my head. I was on my lunchbreak when my inner Shellybird suggested that I check my messages. Sure enough, "Shamus" had called. I can't even lie. He made my day, and I've only listened to his message a bazillion times. I even let my mama hear it and she was impressed. (Probably because she is concerned about having grandcats, still a yuge possibility.) I called him back that night and we talked for half an hour and texted for a few minutes today. I had no idea how much I missed being wanted and appreciated until someone that I found attractive made me feel that way again.
And I know I am jumping the gun and probably 2 or 3 sherman tanks, but I just feel really good right now, and that's rare for me. I've been mooning over this guy since yesterday. At work today when business was a little slow, I just stood there staring out into space with a goofy grin on my face. I could have pulled a 12 hour shift and wouldn't have cared because I have something and someone to look forward to. I love it. Most of my teacher friends took trips for spring break. My travel plans fell through but I got a free trip on the love train, so I'm good. (And YES, I know that last sentence was cheesy.)
You know, I often wonder about fate. Take last night at HN&S, for instance. If I'd opted to keep the three vacation days I gave up, would I have met a handsome, middle-aged Irishman who thinks I'm beautiful, thinks I look 20 years younger than my 44 years, and now has my phone number? NOPE.
It all started when I accidentally pulled a customer who was waiting at another register into my line in front of him because I didn't see him. I apologized profusely and he told me how beautiful he thought I was. I said thank you and he was about to walk away when I asked him about his accent. He told me he was from Ireland,,and when he asked for my number, I gave it to him, almost without hesitation. The accent made me do it, y'all. I am WEAK for an accent, especially Caribbean, Irish, Scottish, or French. (And YES I KNOW that the Caribbean is not a country in and of itself, but the accents there all have that same lilting melody to me and I gets WEEEEEEAK when I hear one.) He covered my hand with his--I felt some heat, y'all--and told me that he would call me.
I'm a visual person, so here's a mini-collage of some Irish actors (that I've always been a wee bit hot in the tail for) so that my visual readers can get a visual.
 |
| Nope. He doesn't look like these guys. |
He doesn't look like (young) Gabriel Byrne, Robert Sheehan, or Cillian Murphy. "My" Irishman doesn't "look" like an Irishman at all. He looks like Peter Gabriel, but not from his "Sledgehammer" days, rather like Peter Gabriel if you ran into him at the Wal-Mart today... buying a sledgehammer. Yep, Great Value Peter Gabriel! HA! So handsome with beautiful blue eyes.
 |
| BINGO. |
*Picking this post up 2 days later. It's hard writing a post all at one time, yall.*
He didn't call me until yesterday afternoon, when I was already formulating a "men ain't shyte" post in my head. I was on my lunchbreak when my inner Shellybird suggested that I check my messages. Sure enough, "Shamus" had called. I can't even lie. He made my day, and I've only listened to his message a bazillion times. I even let my mama hear it and she was impressed. (Probably because she is concerned about having grandcats, still a yuge possibility.) I called him back that night and we talked for half an hour and texted for a few minutes today. I had no idea how much I missed being wanted and appreciated until someone that I found attractive made me feel that way again.
 |
| My entire adult life has been a John Hughes movie. |
And I know I am jumping the gun and probably 2 or 3 sherman tanks, but I just feel really good right now, and that's rare for me. I've been mooning over this guy since yesterday. At work today when business was a little slow, I just stood there staring out into space with a goofy grin on my face. I could have pulled a 12 hour shift and wouldn't have cared because I have something and someone to look forward to. I love it. Most of my teacher friends took trips for spring break. My travel plans fell through but I got a free trip on the love train, so I'm good. (And YES, I know that last sentence was cheesy.)
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