Eavesdropping

While many like to people-watch, only a few of us enjoy the extreme sport that is people-listening, also known as glorified eavesdropping. I qualify the act because I feel that, if you're talking so loud in a public place that I can hear you from 20 feet away, you have no right to get mad if I listen to your conversation. Today I heard the greatest comment from a girl on a cellphone:

"I mean, I totally want to be with him, but . . .well, it's not that I want to change everything about him, I just, like, want to change most things about him. But I still totally want to be with him."

Good luck with that, sweetie. Erin and I will be seeing you on Oprah.

Also, a note for anyone who frequents Fry's Electronics: If you're going to play Dance Dance Revolution in the store, in front of everyone, for heaven's sake at least TRY to move your arms when you dance. Seriously, didn't you see that Seinfeld episode about the girl who didn't move her arms when she walked? Okay, now picture that, but it's the man who doesn't move his arms when he plays Dance Dance Revolution. It just looks weird. I actually had to do an impression of what it looked like, and then Matt made me do the impression again in the HEB parking lot in exchange for a smoothie.

And now some notes for the horribly underqualified and inept waitstaff of pretty much every damn restaurant in Austin (excluding M and Z, of course):
(1) Don't take more than five minutes to seat me if I have a reservation. I will complain. The dimples are only here to lull you into a false sense of security.
(2) If you forget to order my salad, and I ask the random waitress who brought out our main course to go ahead and cancel the salad since our friggin food is here already, do NOT bring out the tiny side salad ten minutes later and mumble "I was just getting your salad - but they said that you don't want it anymore?" Do not feign surprise to cover your ineptitude.
(3) When I accept the now unecessary salad in a RARE attempt to be gracious, DO NOT bring the check with the salad charged on it and say "So, did you not want me to charge you for that salad?" That's where my patience ends.
(4) Oh, and I know this is a little late, but please take a second to COUNT the money a table has left for you before frantically chasing them down fourth street to let them know they've stiffed you, thereby forcing Nikki to give you a crash lesson in basic addition, causing much embarassment to yourself, and causing me to manifest early signs of aging due to my having to give you such a pronounced look of annoyance.

And bring me my Dr.Pepper. If all else fails, at least I'll be in a good mood.