GrandmaB. and Me

Visiting my Grandma is one of my favoritest things to do. First of all, my Gma is one pretty cool lady. She is more like a friend to me than a Gma in a lot of ways. We talk about guys, we go to movies, hang out and talk about life, we tell each other secrets that her daughter/my mom don’t know about us, drive out of our way to see each other, have sleepovers, send each other random letters or e-mails… You know, the usual best friend sorts of things…

So, naturally I am spending some time at her house before starting back to school and getting crazy busy. We went to a movie this afternoon, flirted with the theater attendants, sat in the back of a completely empty theater and munched an entire bag of popcorn (before the credits were even over), and cried together over Marley and Me. Ahww… aren’t we so cute together? Love her!

So, me and my Gma went to a Mexican place for dinner tonight. First of all, it was in a hole in the wall in Podunk-ville Ks, which should have been my first clue. There were two other tables occupied when we came in, but we soon became the only customers in the place. Our waiter, bless his soul, was a nice guy, but wasn’t really all you could ask for in a waiter. Plus, he decided that I was a prime target for his lonely heart. (Why do I attract needy men? Seriously!) Some of the conversation was quite comical, however…

Waiter: Can I tell you something? You have really pretty eyes.

Me: Uhm, thanks

Walks away to do waiterish sorts of things

Gma: You be careful about using those eyes.

Me: I wasn’t using them on PURPOSE! They’re kinda stuck in my head!

Gma: Well, don’t go batting them!

Me: (defensively) I wasn’t!!

Later:

Waiter: Can I ask you something that guys aren’t supposed to ask girls? How old are you?

Me: (attempting to joke around) How old am I? 73.

Gma: (attempting to help out) Yeah, she wears it well, huh?

Waiter: (nervous chuckle)

Me: Actually I am 22.

Waiter: Yeah? Me too.

Later, while Gma uses the ladies room

Waiter: So, you’re 22 huh?

Me: Yep (are you sensing the effort that I am putting into these conversations??)

Waiter: So, do you have a job? Do you live around here?

Me: No, actually I don’t; I live in Manhattan. I’m just visiting my Grandma.

Waiter: (face obviously falling) Manhattan? (you can see the wheels turning as he calculates distance in his head)

Me: Yeah.

Getting ready to leave

Waiter: Well, even though you live in Manhattan. It was nice to meet you. Come in again when you are in town!

Me: Yeah, we’ll see. (thinking: “uhm, probably not, buddy, sorry!”)

Gma: (laying a tip down on the booth table, realizes she left it on my “side” and switches it to her side with a raised eyebrow at me)

Me: (laughs, overly amused by her obvious displeasure with our poor waiter's advances)

Fortunately this was the last of the awkward convos for the night… I had already prepared a response for the famous asking for the phone number question, but thankfully never had to use it! Phew! In other news, though, the enchiladas were quite tasty!