THE ONE WHERE I LIE ABOUT MY NAME

So, today was spent pretty much sleeping and just being lazy. I've been working long hours, so I think I deserved it, but I'm just tired from doing nothing now. I did do one load of laundry and one load of dishes. We use paper plates most of the time, so when we run out of forks and/or cups, it's time to do dishes. I also cleaned out our little betta fish tank. I told the husband that I'm going to change his name from Santa Claus to Oscar the Grouch because he acted as though he liked his dirty water better than the clean water. Silly fish!

We went to the Olive Garden tonight. It's the third time in 10 days. What can I say? We really like that place. It's the salad for me, but the husband loves the soup. I had the soup and salad, while he had soup and something with grilled chicken and vegetables. It smelled yummy whatever it was. Of course, there were a few funny things that happened, because we can't go anywhere and not get a story out of it. So, the hostess asked us our "party" information. Party of 2, first available (I don't know why I said this...I never say this unless the place is packed, and it wasn't packed.) Then, she asked for my name. If I say Carrie, then they're going to ask how to spell it, and I find that question so dumb. Who cares how I spell it! You can spell it however in the hell you want. I have a stupid buzzer in my hand, so you are never going to even say my name. It could be with a C or a K - I don't care. One day, a girl at Starbucks caught me lying about the spelling of my name. Do you think I care? No. I'll continue lying about my name and its spelling! Forever! So, I told the hostess my name was CJ, because NOBODY is going to ask how to spell that. She said, "What?" It was like she knew that wasn't really the name I go by, so I had to repeat it. Gosh! (My initials are CJ)
So, at Starbucks a couple months ago, the lady asked for my name so she could write it on my cup. She said, "with a K?" and I replied yes. She said, "K-A-R-I?" and I said, "Yes!" (with a smile) So, she handed the cup to the barista (hee hee, that's a funny name) and she took my payment, which happened to be my check card - with my name spelled correctly. She laughed and asked why I didn't correct her when she wrote my name on the cup. I told her that I didn't really care how they spelled it, and whatever someone says, I just agree and go with it. She laughed and said that she was embarrassed and I should be ashamed of myself for letting people think they were right. I think it's nice of me to let people believe they're right - even when they're not as long as it's not breaking the law or hurting anyone. I honestly think it's perfectly fine. I will always correct people for spelling my last name wrong, but I'll let them spell my first name however they want!
Back to the Olive Garden - The second funny thing that happened is we were seated by those people that think the Olive Garden is a 10th wedding anniversary kind of place. Like, put on your good shoes and let's go to the Olive Garden! It was a husband, wife and teenager (like barely a teenager - 13 or 14). The husband was just a man. Nothing funny about him (except his wife) and nothing to write about. The daughter had recently discovered makeup, and had not gotten the proper training on eyeliner just yet, but she still has some time before she loses her virginity in the back of a pickup truck. By then, I think she will have polished her eyelining skills. The wife. Now that's the funny one! She had hair like I don't know what. She could have been at the beach all day for all I know. That's why I'm going to excuse her hair. I'll excuse everything...except for her shirt! She was wearing a flannel-type shirt with the sleeves cut completely off. Like she should be a dude on the Blue Collar Comedy show. The sleeves were all frayed and everything. It was not really a motherly shirt! They got their check, and sent the cash with the waiter in the little black folder. He returned and just layed the folder on the table and walked off. I guess Mrs. Foxworthy didn't feel comfortable leaving a few bucks on the table or something, because she sent Mr. Foxworthy and Little Foxworthy on to the truck, and she waited patiently for at least 7 or 8 minutes for the waiter to walk by and she handed the little black folder to him to make sure it was in good hands before she left the fine dining establishment. Maybe I trust people more than I should, but I always leave it on the table and walk off. I've never even thought about it. Anyways, the husband and I got a good kick out of it for some reason. We left there and went by our house to put on long sleeves before heading down to the oceanfront for some music. Jars of Clay and Smashmouth were playing tonight. We got down there in time for some local band to play. The husband participated in the consumption of adult beverages while I played cab driver. I'm not really much of a drinker, so being a cabbie is just fine with me! We listened to Jars of Clay and watched people for a few hours. The husband has really funny things to say while he's consuming his adult malt beverage of choice. We thought there were fireworks somewhere, but we couldn't see them. He said it was just mysterious bangs. Then, he said, "Wait a minute, mysterious bangs are when your bangs hang down in your face and cover one of your eyes. Those must be mysterious booms we're hearing." We giggled the entire time, made a quick stop at Starbucks, then drove back home.
I don't know if it was beer or not talking the other day on behalf of the husband, but we were talking about square dancing and clogging. I said his aunt square danced, and he said that she was a clogger, not a square dancer. He added that I was a pretty good clogger, too. I frowned and said I barely knew how to square dance, and I definitely didn't know how to clog. Pretend Riverdance - yes. Clog - no. He said that he had known quite a few instances where I clogged. Then, I realized that he meant *clog: to overwhelm a plumbing system*. Oh, why yes, I am a prize-winning clogger. I blame it on my publicpoo-phobia. Because I can't make deposits just anywhere, I have to do it when I can at home. Before the husband and I were actually married, we went to St. Louis for a couple of days for one of his first job interviews. We stayed at this brand new, middle-class hotel. The lobby area was still under construction. My stomach was like a lava lamp during the drive up there. So, when we got to the hotel, I HAD to go. Well, I overwhelmed the plumbing, and started laughing uncontrollably. I was crying I was laughing so hard. The husband didn't find it that funny. He had to call the front desk to let them know what had happened. I assumed they would bring a plunger to our room. Instead, they told him they had a plunger at the front desk, and he was welcome to come and get it. After he hung up, we both started cracking up. I told him what a wonderful person he was for doing this, but I was still laughing. He gathered the courage to go down there. We were about as far from the elevator as possible. So, he had to walk WAY down the hall to the elevator, then ride the elevator down, go to the front desk, admit that he was the hotel "clogger" and get the dang plunger. I laughed the entire time he was gone! I kept peeking down the hallway to see if he was coming back yet. I assumed the thing would be a little discreet or something. No way! He looked like a clogging hobo. It was the wooden stick with a Walmart sack tied around the end. He even threw it over his shoulder when he got closer to our room. It was one of the funniest moments ever! We still laugh about it!
I'm really laughing out loud just writing this one! I hope blogging continues to be this funny! What a great way to remember all of the funny things that happen to us throughout our lives! I think I will print out all of my blogs and give them to the husband in 5 years as we celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary at the Olive Garden while wearing our good shoes!