Dang. Too bad this is blurry. Well - this is a website called Walk Score and it will rate where you live in terms of "walkability". My apartment scores an 88 - "very walkable" and this is something I can attest to, since I don't have a car or even a bicycle. Very rarely do I feel like I need to venture out into the part of the town that would require other modes of transportation. One of the things that I found amusing was that, while definitely accurate, it's still sort of out of date. It lists a restaurant within walking distance as "The Fiddlehead" which is now the Sandpiper - also a restaurant, and there are plenty more but no longer in existence. The book store it lists is an ADULT bookstore too. Scandal!
Speaking of Adult stores - Juneau's one adult shop just went out of business. I have only been in once. I left with arms laden with rated PG-13 rated foreign flicks and a cardigan. Still, it seems like a sad state of affairs when Juneau no longer has a go to shop for the needs of those getting it on, or not. Gottshalk's is going out of sale too. I went in today and bought some makeup and some sweaters. Usually I don't shop there, but it is the only place in town to buy higher end cosmetics.
Right now I am at work and though it is only 8 o'clock, I have already had to escort a drunk woman out. Good riddance! She managed to tell a story today that disturbed and offended me. She has two cats (one who was nosing around the hotel and bar last night) and she told a story about how one was out while in heat and a big black cat mated with it. Cats mating, that's harmless enough, but she referred to the cat as a NIGGER. I can't determine if this is more or less offensive than calling a person a nigger. Anyway, she's a walking shit show. Well, walking is questionable. I was practicing my pool game (which still sucks) and she called out to me, needed help getting to the bathroom. That's when I realized she was shitfaced - how did this happen? I walked her there. Then I went back to pool. Then I heard sounds and saw that she was sitting in a chair looking helpless. I had to collect her purse and walk her up two flights of stairs in her friggin' stiletto heels. When we arrived at her room she sat on the floor to dig for her keys, all the while the bar was unattended and I was wondering why I was stuck babysitting a woman who is nearly 60 years old. When she found the key I opened the door, ushered her in, and went back downstairs to shake my head and contemplate my future and how I would like it to NOT involve being an alcoholic, paranoid, walking shitshow of a cat lady.
She only started coming into the Bergmann recently, after she moved in, paranoid about a stalker. She used to frequent the Rendezvous during the daytime hours and still might. I remember when I was working there she once told me about her sex life. I wanted to box my own ears, claw out my own eyes, and perform a frontal lobotamy on myself.
Last night was a quiet night at the Bergmann. I have had better nights on weeknights, though I heard it was a quiet night everywhere downtown. Everyone must still be recovering from Folk Fest, or perhaps, like me, they are denying themselves bar time to make up for the money spent and the debauchery that occurred during Folk Fest. The few things that stood out about last night had to do with guys. Not really in a good way, either.
At some point, Mr. HG called. Then he called again. The second time it was about 2am. Calls that occur at that time, as I've said before, are about one thing only. SEX. So, this is a guy I was enamored with foolishly the first fall I lived here. For some strange reason I thought he was attractive and smart and worth doting on. Then he turned out to be kind of a jerk. We went on a date or two over the course of almost a year and during this time I dated other people, had flings and fun, and lost any interest in him. His best friend tried to kiss me once too. The last few times he called I didn't even answer. I did this time because the first call was a reasonable hour. In any case - he once admitted to me that I was the only person he had slept with in X months (possibly over a year now) and I guess that was supposed to make me feel special. That I was the only chick dumb enough to hop in the sack with this guy. Special. Yes. Or maybe he thought that it meant that I was the only chick that he thought was worth hopping in the sack with. Whatever. I told him I had a cold. Kind of true. Still a pretty lame excuse, this is backed up by Mr. E, who was cracking up over my muttering "DOUCHEBAG" before and after the call.
The other guy sitch was with with Mr. SP. We made out one night in November. He said things like, "your hair is perfect" and "your eyes are beautiful" and he seemed like he might know. He seemed like he might know a lot of things that would make him worth a girl's time. The question one must ask is how, at this age, he could still be single - if he's so great. Well. That means one of two things. Either he's not great. Or he's not single - which might also count as not great. According to Miss B, he's not single. Plus, the past few times he's wandered into my bar, he's had a different woman with him. I was tempted to pull him aside and ask him to be straight with me. "Is there a girlfriend?" "How many girls are you trying to play?" and "How do you pull this off?" Being a smart girl, you'd think that I'd ask these things and then slap him in the face, but I would probably ask these things and then make out with the bastard. Then slap him. Then maybe make out some more. He popped in twice last night. Once with a woman. Once on his own. The second time he told me, while shaking his head, that I was "so cute."
The final thing I'll say, since I'm on such a roll with talking about other people and how I interact with them, is about being a snob. I was talking about how my gut instinct, my initial reaction, is to be a snob. Sort of. I guess I just make snap judgments about people based on appearances, mostly related to how disheveled they might look or social class or something. But because being a snob is NEGATIVE I often find that I force myself to give people a chance despite my gut instinct. Usually this turns out poorly. Usually I end up kicking these people out of the bar, tossing their drinks, kicking myself for thinking that the smell was a sort of working class cologne or that the unusual gait was due to an old injury. Sometimes though, going against my basic snobbish instincts works out well. Last night there was a dude sporting an 80's bomber jacket and a mullet. He was with a group of people who ordered mostly sodas. While he was leaving he stopped at the bar and left me a tip even though someone else had gotten his drink and even though he hadn't been any trouble at all. Of course, that's one in ten. Maybe more.
** Look what I just found after writing this! An article about stereotyping!**