Financially Embarrassed

I love my Grandma. She is your typical Depression Era grandma. She bakes cookies and pies. She eats all of her vegetables out of a can. She sews quilts. When she can't think of what to get me for mybirthday, she sends a check for $10. She walks a little slow, is a bit hunched over and has short, curly grandma hair.

My grandmother, who has been married to the same man for 65 years, is a wonderful and loving person. I would shot myself in the eye before ever saying or doing anything that would cause her any type of heartache.

My grandmother, growing up during the Depression Era, has a very different view of what life is like compared to our generation. So many of us don't understand this mentality. I don't get the mentality. But because of my grandparents, I have learned to shut my mouth and ignore a lot of what they say.


Every time my grandma comes to town, she feels that this is her chance to break away from my grandfather and explore her food options. She loves food, all food-especially if she doesn't have to cook it. We leave grandpa at home with his Spam, and we go out on a food adventure!

"No hunny, not tonight!"

I ask my grandma the day they get to town if she would like to go to lunch with me the next day. We started off at this little local Tex Mex place that has amazing 'queso'. We order, they bring too much food, we eat what we can, and take the rest in a box. The check comes and my grandmother, being the generous person that she is, picks up the check and says to me:

"Honey, don't worry about it, its my treat!"

me: "Oh grammy, but I invited you to lunch, I will get it"

"No honey, I got it."

I quit fighting her. Grandma leaves a $2 tip, and I rush her out the door before the server notices the 5% tip.
Remember, Depression Era Grandma.

On the drive home, my grandma is alerting me, "honey, the light is red," "honey, the light is green", "honey, in the lane next to you, there is a car". I, of course, vow, that during our next food adventure, grandma isn't going to stop me from paying!

Thanks to grandma's back-seat driving, we arrive home safe and sound. I decide to address the 'whole who pays the bill' and say, "Grammy, thanks so much for lunch! That was really nice, but next time I am paying."

To this she responds, "Oh honey, your welcome, its OK, you don't have to worry about paying. I know that you are financially embarrassed."

My mouth dropped to the floor. Financially embarrassed! What do you even say to that? I have never even heard of that before!!! Financially Embarrassed? After regaining my composure, I started laughing. And I laughed for about 10 minutes while my grandmother looked on, puzzled.

"Is that how you see me?? As financially embarrassed?"

Grandma says, "Oh, I know you don't have much money." And, this, of course, is true.

I had nothing left to say, 'cause she was right! I can justify spending $300 on a pair of shoes, just like she can justify spending $12,000 on a sewing machine.

My Grandma in the 50's

I suppose the only thing I can think of is that the Depression Era generation is embarrassed as to how our generation spends money. Embarrassed about how much debt we are in and how we use credit for everything. They are not embarrassed about our tattoos, piercings or the fact that we live with our boy/girlfriends before we get married, like I always thought. But to them, it is our obsession to buy stuff they view as useless as an embarrasment.


My grandmother made her own clothes growing up and she still does today. My grandparents live in a house that my great-grandparents built in 1930's. A house that was paid for in cash. My grandparents use cash for everything. They don't live paycheck to paycheck like most of us do. They don't buy fancy things or go to fancy restaurants. To some, I suppose this would be a boring life, but they have the security of knowing that they don't need life insurance to help their spouse financially for the rest of there lives after they die. They have the money, they have saved the money, and they will have something to give to their children when they die. In fact, they prepaid their funeral plots in cash, many years ago.

So, in conclusion, Thank You Grammy, for the slap in the face and the good laugh.

Margot


Love you Grammy, forever.

Margot

Deli Disaster

Just the other day, I did something that I watched my grandmother do when I was a little girl. As I put on my favorite polka dot pantyhose, I noticed I had a run. Immediately, I pulled out clear nail polish and dabbed it on either end of the run. My grandmother always dressed to the nines. Heels, matching purse and enough blood diamonds to make an activist cringe. Grandma always wore pantyhose. As a child, I watched her put on pantyhose. Once in awhile, she had a run and she, just like I did, dabbed the run with nail polish.

A simple run in my pantyhose made me think about things that are timeless. Things that are passed on from generation after generation. Things like a lady slipping into pantyhose and putting on her favorite pair of heels. And generations of women did exactly what I did the other morning, dabbing a bit of nail polish on their stockings to stop a run.

I staunchly believe that a some things should be timeless. Things that should remain the same. Things such as:  the perfect way to pull a shot of espresso, dive bars and quaint delis. And believe me, I am very passionate about ESPRESSO, DIVE BARS and DELIS.

Just the other day, I trekked over to my favorite deli. This deli is older than most Slinky Like Stealth Blog readers.The deli is TIMELESS. The menu never changes, chilly pitchers of  Stella Artois for $9.99, surly men in aprons behind the counter, dusty, overpriced Italian items for sale and dry-cured meats hanging from the ceiling. It is owned by a little Italian grandma who makes you pine for your Italian grandma, even if you aren't Italian.

My mission was simple.

Drive out of my way to savor the delicacies offered by this quaint, timeless deli. My plan was to get myself a 20 ounce chilled mug of Stella, while I browsed through the latest LA Weekly, and patiently wait for my order to be prepared. I would down my Stella, take my order home, plop down on my couch next  to Mr. Slinky*, eat my Italian Cold Cut Sandwich and watch "From Paris With Love"--a movie full of testosterone and guns. This is the United States after all. We can do these things without any guilt, shame or thought of the people who live in cities without Italian Delis owned by Italian Grandmas.

my deli is better than yours damn right!

Cue Deli Disaster.

Behind the counter is my personal nightmare: a bleach blonde 20-something that Margot would lovingly call a 'twit". Now this is MY damn timeless Italian Deli owned by old Italian lady I wish was my Italian nonna. I expect to find surly men behind the counter who don't speak English, wearing crisp aprons, who understand 2 things: "I need my beer NOW" and "The rest of the order will be to go."

No need for "thank you's" or "please" or any other unnecessary pleasantries.

Except for the day that the Italian Deli Grandma got senile and hired The Blonde Twit. The Blonde Twit has perfect command of the English language, yet, she is too dumb to understand my simple request.

My order went like this:

"I would like a Stella on tap while I wait. And the following to go: An Italian Cold Cuts Sandwich, A Meatball Sandwich and A Coke"

Note my exclusions of all pleasantries such as "Hello" "Thank you" "Please". This deli don't play that. You order, you get served, you pay, you eat, you get happy and you LEAVE!

Unfortunately, The Blonde Twit can't handle the simplicity of my request. It is, of course, too confusing, and requires that I repeat my order 3 and 4 times. I notice The Blonde Twit is not wearing the mandatory Deli Apron. She is too dumb to wear the apron.

Once we resolve the order 'issue'. I pull out my LA Weekly and wait impatiently for my ice-cold Stella. Twit forgets the Stella. I get up and walk behind the counter to tell The Blonde Twit "I am thirsty."

Apparently, Blonde Twit incapable of placing a simple order gets pissy. She looks down at the counter and says "You can serve yourself water over there."

The Blonde Twit has officially pissed ME off. I look at her and say: "I need my beer now. I ordered it for here 10 minutes ago, and I would like to get the beer NOW!"

You could almost see the synopsis in her brain make connections. ALMOST. I got my beer.

I walked up to the counter again. This time the Blonde Twit looked up and politely asked "Is there anything else I can help you with, miss? Me: "I was wondering why you aren't wearing the deli apron?"

Blonde Twit thinks I am, like, oh my god, like, her BFF now!!! Her face brightens as she says: "It's cuz it's like, so, uuuuuuugly!!!" She points at a sticker on her chest. "See, everybody knows I work here because of this sticker!"

I am a TWIT

 I dislike The Blonde Twit even more now. She thinks that Italian Grandmas Italian Deli is actually a place to make a fashion statement. Her sticker is scribble with teeny bopper writing. I say: "It says: "I work NERD!" and walk away.

The Blonde Twit face fall as she whines over the counter: "It says: I WORK here!" She actually stomps her foot in her designer jeans. 

I hope that The Blonde Twit would slip and fall and that the corner of her HELLO MY NAME IS sticker would slice her eyeball and blind her. Maybe then, she could appreciate the beauty of things that are timeless.

May this serve as a warning to all: Don't fuck with my deli, my dive bar or my espresso!!!

-Raquel

*Mr. Slinky is my Significant Other...you will hear me complain about a lot when he is sleeping like a baby and I have miserable insomnia (again) and wish I could kill him with the machete I have under my bed.

True Romance-A 90's classic!

Where do I start with this movie??? I LOVE IT! And anyone who says they don't love this movie is fucking lame.

I mean, who isn't in this movie? Do I need to list credits here? No?? Too bad, I am going to anyways, just as a reminder to all of you why this movie is so RAD!

Christian Slater

Patricia Arquette

Dennis Hopper

Val Kilmer

Brad Pitt

Christopher Walken

And the list keeps on going...

Michael Rapaport

James Gandolfini

Samuel L. Jackson

Chris Penn (R.I.P.)

Tom Sizemore

and

Ed Lauter.

True Romance, was written by non other then QUENTIN TARANTINO! He is our kick ass, gory writer and director from the 90's. Name a movie that he has written that you don't love. Just one, please! How about Pulp Fiction?? Nope, maybe Reservoir Dogs?? Didn't fucking think so. Do we even need to get in 2000's?? Alright maybe just one "Kill Bill Vols 1 & 2". I love this man!

True Romance has everything that, we, who came of age in the 90's, love so much in an Action-slash-Love story. There are drugs, sex, violence and, at the time, a slew of virtually unknown actors. I bet half of them you wouldn't have recognized if you had watched the movie when it was released in 1993.

Clarence (Christian Slater) meets Alabama (Patricia Arquette) a hooker, in a movie theater. They fall in love and get married in 2 minutes. Newly-wed groom Clarence hits up Gary Oldman, Alabama's pimp, to get her stuff, and tell him that his bride is no longer a hooker. 

Things get out of control! 

In the end, almost everyone dies. Clarence accidentally takes a suitcase of uncut cocaine instead of Alabama's clothes. The story starts in dingy Detroit, hits up posh Beverly Hills, on a roller coaster ride at Six Flags Magic Mountain and ends on a beautiful beach in Cancun, Mexico!

Don't you love a movie with a happy ending? I do!

Add in that haunting song that plays through out the whole movie that you can't get out of your head, EVER, by Hans Zimmer and you have one of the best movies from the early 90's. And probably the last good role Christian Slater ever played.

Well, Bill D. goth girls are not the only thing we miss about the 90's. We miss the cameos by the A-List actors and the music of our generation. The classic movies that aren't based on a book or a remake of another movie. Just good-ole shoot-em-up movies that make you fall in love with the leads, and with the right mix of everything!!

Of course, in 1993, when this movie was released, I was not allowed to watch it, I was too young, so I didn't get to see it on the big screen, but it was well worth it on VHS and now DVD/Bluray.

The first time I saw it was with my boy-friend at the time, circa 1998. He told me that the reason why he left his nice posh home in upper-class Bellevue, Washington, and moved to a crappy apartment in Santa Monica was to be an actor is because of this movie! WTF!!!! Yes, that is how fucking good this movie is.

Watch this movie if you have not seen it in awhile, and by awhile, I mean in the last 6 months, 'cause that is how often this movie should be watched.

So my suggestion....Watch this movie again, BITCHES! And love it or be damned.

Margot

Stories from the Other Side, from Taylor

I don’t understand the strategies men use in the realm of flirting.  On several occasions, I will be driving my car and get a stalker. A man who thinks it is flattering to drive right next to me at the same speed, for miles, as he  stares on creepily.  Oh course, this always happens when I need to get over into their lane and my new friend is busy planning on skinning me alive and keeping me within his line of vision-and I can’t switch lanes, therefore missing my exit. Rather than give him my phone number and have his devil-children,  I want  to KILL him!

creepy flirty stalker dude gets into car crash

But, seriously, what is he hoping for in this situation?  That I will to stop my car in the middle of the freeway, wrench off my shirt and scream to the world: "Hey Creepy Stalker, your unsafe driving skills convinced me: TAKE ME riiiiight now!!!!"

these two were on the 405 now they are on the 4-OH-5 

Same goes for guys who whistle, cat-call, or drunkenly hang-over balconies waving their arms freakishly trying to get a girls attention.  Does this work? I have yet to hear a couple say that they met when: "He obnoxiously, sexually harassed me when I was walking down the street," *insert sigh and a look into the lovers eyes*, "and I just knew it was loooove.” 

He was so cute! He was yelling at me from the top of the Hard Rock Hotel, while I was swasted poolside. He came down, totally plastered and offered to buy me a drink. I said No! and went to my room. Then he kept on knocking on my hotel room door. I changed hotels and he found me at the Bellagio. It was sooo romantic. It was true love!

My personal favorite just happened again the other day while I was at work.  I walked by this vendor, who said “You know you could smile.” Listen up, buddy, if I am at work I am not a happy-go-lucky person to begin with. Not to mention the fact that I have 300 hundred things on my mind, and smiling at you is not one of them.  Yes, I know there are several things I can do with my mouth, one of them is smiling, but at the moment I would really rather use it to tell you to: FUCK OFF.    

I know it’s harsh, but come on, guys, all of these scenarios are obnoxious,  predictable, and kind of creepy.   

Stop it already!

~Taylor

"Just Say NO!!!!" From MAX

We've all experienced it. It's that unpleasant moment when you see an annoying salesperson coming.

between you and me...

Immediately, the reel begins "Oh great, now this asshole is going to try to sell me something I don't need!" It's always something you have no use for...like a new age hair pick or bad cellular service or a timeshare in Haiti or a scrotum piercing.

Well, Slinksters, this very thing happened to me yesterday while walking through the mall with my fiancee. Let's call her Loupes, it's short for cantaloupes. Use your imagination and you smarties can figure out why.

Anyway, Loupes and I walking along happily, department store bags in hand, basking in the glow of our love. Or maybe the glow was from the 8 beer sampler we'd just had at lunch. In any case we're just walking along at a brisk pace and I see this guy step out from behind his kiosk like a pop up target from one of those shooting gallery arcade games.

I seeeeee my next victim!

My brain couldn't process what was happening and reprogram fast enough. It all happened so fast and he wasn't passive like most of his compatriots. He was far more assertive and eager to sell us whatever useless crap he had.

I smiled at him awkwardly as you do when someone accidentally enters your line of sight and you're trying not to be rude. Then just as we're passing by this young R.M.K.W.G. (random mall kiosk working guy) looks directly at Loupes and says hi and asks her "Can I ask you a question?"

The fucker was sneaky and he thought he was being clever but he was no match for Loupes. She ate him for breakfast.

All he said was "Can I ask you a question?"

She looked at him, smiled and without altering her stride by even a step uttered just one word - "No"

Ummm. NO, man, don't talk to me

He had this stunned look on his face and we both instantly started to laugh about how funny it was.

A man would just have said: "No thanks"; "I'm in a rush and don't have time, I'm not interested",  "I already have one", or any number of semi-polite responses. Or he would have just ignored this young R.M.K.W.G. (random mall kiosk working guy) all together. Only a woman would answer "NO". Hot women are so well trained and so practiced as a result of being approached by men that they never stutter or misstep. Their response to men is almost instinctive.

Next time a salesperson tries to engage you, remember these 3 words made famous by Nancy Reagan: Just Say No!

she looks this serene is cuz she is all doped up on downers

-MAX-