Mia: Shaken Not Stirred

The true life stories of a NYC female.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Marital Status

It wasn’t a big deal to my grandfather, so what if the secretary had ticked the wrong box on his paper work? It could happen to anyone, the boxes were after all grouped really close together and the office had been really busy. A little dab of “White-Out" and all would be fine. It was a done deal anyway. Grandpa had already decided to give them his business.He was just there to go over the paper work and sign on the dotted line.

Maybe it was the heat and the malfunctioning air conditioner making the boss cranky, maybe his tie was chafing his neck or maybe the man was just anal retentive . Whatever the reason behind his surliness it was obvious that the boss was displeased with his employee.

“Mr. Quills…” the office manager began

Quiles (key-lez)” my grandfather interjected.

The man looked at the form and back at my grandfather. The look on his face seemed to ask are you sure that’s how this is pronounced? Grandpa smiled at the man giving him time to absorb the proper pronunciation of his surname.

“Sorry about that Mr. Quiles

Grandpa waved it away,"It's okay, it happens all the time." he told the manager.

“Mr. Quiles about your marital status…when we spoke you told me you were a widower.”

“I am.”

“But it says here you’re separated. Obviously someone was careless. ”

The manager’s eyes slid towards his secretary and he gave her a not so nice look. Grandpa glanced at the secretary and then back at the man. We realized then that the manager was about to use the stupid error to berate his secretary.

“ I am separated from my wife… we were separated by death.” Grandpa said and sat straighter in his chair.

The office manager wasn’t ready for that one and seemed stunned. After a couple of seconds of trying to maintain a straight face he lost the battle.

“Oh… okay separated by death!” he said just as he burst out laughing.
Grandpa looked up at the now laughing secretary and winked as her boss continued to laugh.

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Posted by @ 10:38 AM
4 comment from: Anonymous Darla, Anonymous Anonymous, Blogger christina/ohio, Blogger Mia,

Monday, July 27, 2009

Beware of Angry Midgets

The movie playing on the screen was horrible! Instead of watching it from in between splayed fingers like any halfway decent horror flick demands the yeti, my friend and I were sitting in the theatre cracking jokes. We weren’t the only ones laughing and since this was no Sam Raimi flick and the music was somber you know the laughs were purely unintentional.

I won’t reveal the name of the film just in case anyone is planning on seeing it but ahem you should really avoid paying to see any new horror flicks about an adopted child. Wait ‘til it comes out on DVD and rent it if you must.

“Oh man this is pure trash” I stage whispered to my yeti. “Money bet she turns out to be a midget.” I joked.

“You really think she’s a midget?!” my Yeti practically yelled.
“Shhhhhh it man …you know you’re really going to have to start working on your whispering skills.”

When the movie finally ended I sat in my chair amazed…she had turned out to be a midget after all. “That girl was right, she was a midget!” the guy sitting behind me told his girlfriend as I stood up from my chair.

I nodded my head knowingly, “Beware of angry midgets.” I said. I quickly glanced up at the Yeti who was poised to deliver a crack about my height.

I held up my hand before he could say a word, “Hush it Yeti.” I said.

He smiled, “How’d you know I was going to say something?”

“We need to work on your poker face as well dude.” I replied as I made my way up the aisle.

The Yeti chuckled, “Beware of angry midgets!” he said to my back.

“I heard that.” I said and let the remark slide as recompense for all the times I’ve referred to him as “The Yeti”. I was feeling generous, besides I owed it to him it was my idea to see the movie in the first place.


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2 comment from: Anonymous Darla, Blogger Mia,

Friday, July 24, 2009

Fashion...A Dream

“Dreams are often most profound when they seem the most crazy." - Sigmund Freud

They say that dreams are the windows of the subconscious. If this is so then my subconscious has gone off its’ ever lovin’ rocker.

Picture this... David Bowie as a Muppet...yeah you read correctly a Muppet. Oh and not just any Muppet knock off like in the play Avenue Q. We’re talking friggin’ Jim Henson Muppet here. Anyway so David Bowie’s a Muppet and he’s singing a song called “Fashion”. His back up singers and dancers were the entire Muppet cast of Sesame Street.

As if watching Ernie and Bert do the pop and lock wasn’t enough every time David Bowie would sing the word ‘fashion’ huge letters spelling out the word would light up and chase me. I’m thinking my subconscious is either telling me it’s time for a fashion make over or that I should watch more public television.

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Posted by @ 8:56 AM
2 comment from: Blogger Goggles Piasano Ritardo, Blogger Mia,

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Sometimes I'm Slow As Hell

There are three things you need to know about me if you don’t already well actually there’s more but for the purpose of this post we’ll focus on three. I love taking pictures, I love walking in the rain, and sometimes I’m slow as all hell.

The rain had just stopped and I was walking down the street camera in hand when I spotted this flower I absolutely needed to take a picture of. Just as I raised my camera to take the picture a woman walked into my shot blocking my view. I kept my camera where it was waiting for her to walk past me. The woman at first appeared apprehensive. I wondered what was up with her, it was only a camera after all and at 4ft 11 I doubt if she thought I was a danger to her.

As she walked towards me the look of apprehension quickly turned into one of annoyance. Her eyes jumped from my face to my camera looking at us as if we were chunks of dog turd stuck to her shoe. Immediately my brain went all inquisitive on me...Why is she looking at me like that, do I know her? What’s her deal with grilling the camera as if it were going to steal her soul?

She stopped and stood in front of me the look on her face seemed to say, “Ugh get it over with, take your damn picture already.” It hit me then… told you I can be slow at times. I recognized her! She was an actress who had had a very successful show a couple of years back. Gilmore Girls, yeah she’d played the mom. the useless info section of my brain supplied. I chuckled as I realized that she had thought I was paparazzi out to get a shot of her. Oh please lady get over yourself I thought and while you’re at it get out of my shot!

When I made no move to take her picture or talk to her a slight blush crept up her face. I smiled and lowered my head shaking it once using my body lingo to express it’s okay lady don’t stress it…now can you get out of my shot? She seemed fluent in body language and stepped aside quickly moving past me. I gave her a quick thank you nod and turned towards the flower and raised my camera. She stood several feet away from me watching as I took several shots of the flower. When I was done we smiled at each other and walked off in opposite directions. I was off to embrace more photo ops and she from what I had seen was off to avoid them.

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Monday, July 20, 2009

I'm Waving The White Flag

Ever had a song stuck in your head? Well that happens to me a lot sometimes with songs I’m not particularly fond of …that’s the worst.

A few years ago when I was working the night shift at a department store Journey’s Greatest Hits was getting heavy play on the store’s system. Thanks to hearing it at least 8 times a day for the entire summer I got sick of the song. Until recently I had managed to successfully avoid the song.

That changed this summer, the song has been stalking me in television commercials, lounges, and dance clubs. While in Atlanta recently I heard it played four times in the space of two days and that’s not counting hearing it twice in the airport. Once while waiting for my flight in Atlanta and once after I landed in New York.

I made the mistake of letting a few people know about my issue with the song. News travels fast. When I arrived in New York my yeti made sure to download it and torture me for an entire weekend with it. My friends being the sweethearts that they are began text messaging me snippets of the lyrics and when that got no response they posted the lyrics and video of the song on my face book. My sister not wanting to be left out kept blasting the new dance version of the song over and over again in her room. Luckily for her the bedroom door was locked or I would’ve throttled her.

A couple of weeks go by and my friends and yeti have finally grown tired of messing with me. The song is finally out of my head. I'm a happy female. I’m at a small lounge down south with some friends a couple of them born and bred southerners. “You know Mia if you yell Free Bird out in any bar here in the south they’ll blast the song.” One of my companions drawled in that cute southern accent of hers. “Seriously? I thought that only happened in movies.” They assured me that it was true and they all encouraged me to give it a try. In what I can only describe as a dumb brunette moment I yelled,“FREE BIRD!” over the hip hop song that was playing.

The DJ looked up over to where we were smiled and pointed a finger in our direction. Wanna guess what song quickly interrupted the song that was already playing? Give yourself a big ol’ pat on the back if you guessed “Don’t Stop Believing”. I didn’t get Free Bird people what I got was set up.

The song is once again stuck in my head. I’m throwing in the towel. I’m waving the white flag! I’ve decided not to fight it anymore and to just embrace it. Come on people sing along with me!
“Just a small town girl, livin' in a lonely world She took the midnight train goin' anywhereeeeeee….”

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Wednesday, July 15, 2009

They Grow Up So Fast

My cousin was experiencing one of his versions of nirvana; school was finally over allowing him to spend as much time he wanted in my house. He beamed at my mother ( his aunt/surrogate grandmother) as she placed a stack of pancakes in front of him. Yeah it was heaven, he was having breakfast with three of his favorite females and mom had made his favorite breakfast; banana nut pancakes, bacon, soft scrambled eggs, hot chocolate and orange juice.

“How’s your girl friend?” my sister asked as she began serving herself.

“We broke up.” He told my sister with his mouth wrapped around a fork.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full baby” mom reprimanded as she added a slice of bacon to his plate. The fact that he had a girlfriend never failed to amuse me. She’d won him over with gifts of jumbo crayons and scented markers back in first grade and he’d courted her with home made cup cakes and SpongeBob stickers. Since he’d always spoken about his sweetie only glowing terms I was surprised to hear that he’d ended it.

“Why did you guys break up?” I asked

He looked at mom chewed slowly and swallowed his food before opening his mouth to speak. Then he got this real serious look on his face, well as serious as a baby faced twelve year old could muster.

“I didn’t want to break up with her but I had to.” He replied

“Why was that?” mom asked

“My grades.”

Mom knowingly nodded recalling the call she’d gotten from his mother and the lecture that she’d been forced to give him afterwards.

“What about them?” I asked faking ignorance at the drastic dip his grades had taken when he’d started junior high school. He immediately began to blush and shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about them. He’d always been an honors student and his brief fall from grace had embarrassed him.

“How’d you break up with her?” my sister pressed.

He took a sip of his hot chocolate and sighed.

“I told her I needed some time to myself. I have to focus on school.”

I hid my smile behind my mug while mom pursed her lips and looked away to keep from laughing. My sister just threw her head back and let out an ear piercing shriek followed by laughter.

“Oh my gawd you’re so cute look at you acting all grown!” my sister teased.

He blushed again and glared at her. Mom cleared her throat and gave my sister ‘the look’.

“Junior high school is no joke Caity it’s hard! I have to keep my grades up if I want to get into a good high school. I’ve got to start planning for my future!”

That statement sent my sister into another fit of laughter. Mom couldn’t help herself at that one. She jumped out of her chair and hugged him tightly.

“My little man…oh I love you so much.” She said as she rained kisses all over his beet read face.

“Titi…TITI... I’m twelve years old for Pete’s sake !” he yelled as he squirmed in her embrace. Mom quickly released him and sat back down.

"Plus if if we're really meant to be and she's my soul mate we'll get back together again."

Caity squealed again and mom's jaw dropped open from the shock of what he'd said. I tried not to smile but I failed miserably.

A quick montage of memories ran through my head as I looked at him. He'd been my taste of motherhood. While his parents worked at night I'd been his primary caretaker when he was born. For 4 years he'd been my responsibility. I only relinquished the job when I started college and he began pre-K. From 3 pm until 11 pm his every feeding, bath and diaper change had been my responsibility. I'd introduced him to Dr. Seuss and taught him how to read and how to write. I held back for as long as I could and jumped out of my chair repeating my mother's earlier move.

"Mia! Miaaaaaaaa -ah!" he wailed and his arms went flaying about.

"Oh shut up you!" I said hugging him tighter. "You're always going to be my baby." When I finally released him I gave him an eskimo kiss. Something he'd always loved as a little guy.

"Awwww Mia!" he protested as our noses touched. He may have protested the initiation of the action but I noticed it didn't stop him from rubbing his nose along mine and wrapping his arms around my neck. They grow up so fast.

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Saturday, July 11, 2009

Pay Back is a Short Woman Named Mia

Oh good you’re awake!” mom said as she entered my bedroom.
“Barely” I mumbled.
“I got this message at 5:30 this morning. It’s obviously for you.”
“Me?” I asked as she thrusted her phone at me.

Several months ago I gave my mother my cell phone. Occasionally s she gets a call or a text message here and there from people who I haven’t heard from in close to forever.
I read the message...

“Mi amore I miss you so fuckin much.
Hope u alright n god I wanna go back home.
Oh mia mia mia u gotta stop torturing me like this
When you gonna let me marry u”

“Well?” she said as she handed me a cup of coffee. The woman is a goddess she knows I can’t think without that first cup.

I took a sip and then slowly shook my head, “I have no clue who this is.”

“Are you serious, just how many men other than the Yeti want to marry you?”

“That have this number?”

“Mia honestly!”

“What ma can I help it if I’m popular?”

She gave me “the look”. I shrugged my shoulders and gave her a big smile.

“Ma I was joking… swear to God I was joking!”

She walked away shaking her head mumbling she’d raised a miniature female Casanova. That by the way is so far from the truth in glows in the dark. I messaged the number back and included my new number. A few minutes later I got a call.

“What do you mean who is this?” the English accented voice said.

“Hey! What do you mean what do I mean? You know what I mean. That’s not your number and you messaged my mother’s cell phone!”

“Yeah well darling I left my phone back home in London and I couldn’t remember your new number and I couldn’t go another two weeks without talking to you. I figured your mum would give you the message.”

“Where are you anyway?”

“ Dubai, I told you weeks ago I had to make this trip.”


“You forgot?”

“Yeah I did. Sorry. So how’s the trip?”

“Bloody awful. I am bored out of my mind and I miss you terribly.”

“Dude you’re in Dubai how could you possibly be bored?”

“Easy, all my hosts do is eat and pray. I’ve gained weight, my jeans are fitting me tight and my bloody forehead is getting rug burns from touching the carpet every time I pray.

“Well some women find that sexy. The rug burn on the forehead thing. I’m not saying I’m one of them mind you. ”

“Mia I can’t believe you didn’t know it was me! How many men do you have proposing marriage?”

“At my old number or this one?”

He let out an exasperated sigh.

“Why do I bother asking?”

“Because you live for my smart ass replies?”

“That was a rhetorical question Mia.”

“Oh well that my friend was a rhetorical response.”

His laughter rumbled over the phone and as I listened to it I couldn’t help but laugh as well. Even though my infatuated friend had my mom mistakenly thinking I was a some sort of player I was glad to hear from him. Besides payback is a short woman named Mia.

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Friday, July 03, 2009

What Is The Perfect Outfit To Wear When An Inmate Invites You Out To Dinner?

Terminating a relationship with a client is a bit like breaking up with someone. My official unofficial mentor had suggested I take the easy way out and do it over the phone. I thought about it but my conscience wouldn’t allow it so I got my ‘it’s me not you’ speech together as I headed out to the prison.

Technically he wasn’t really my client. I had taken over the case as a favor and had only seen him twice when I was informed that I was off the case because there was nothing he needed that we could offer him. As soon as he came in he gave me some good news it seems an error was allowing him to be released from prison earlier than anyone had anticipated as early as the next day. Great, I thought to myself I won’t have to terminate you’re on your way out. It seems that the inmate had other ideas about termination.

“How about you let me take you out to dinner when I get out?” he asked.

That was a surprise. “I don’t go out with clients.” I quickly replied.

“Aw come on I’m not your client anymore.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“So? He doesn’t have to know.”

His eyes lingered over my face and then dipped to my chest. It wasn’t the first time I’d caught him doing that. I wrapped my sweater tighter around myself and quickly changed the subject. We discussed his future plans some of which were sure to get him back in jail. I warned him against doing what he had planned. After several minutes he tried hitting on me again.

“What would it take for you to give a guy like me a chance?” he asked.

“Like I said I have a boyfriend.”

“You never wear your hair down.”

“No it’s too hot for that.” I replied.

“Wear your hair down for me.”

I shook my head, this is not happening. This is so not happening.

“Mia, wear your hair down for me.” He repeated.

“Oh no no my man trust me you don’t want that. It’s hot and humid and these curls have no business being let down. Trust me on this. It could get scary.”

“Come on Mia let me take you out. We’ll have fun. We can do Blue Fairy together. “

Wonderful an offer of dinner and entertainment. Be still my foolish heart. Blue Fairy for those not in the know is a drug made with formaldehyde.

“Are you seriously offering me drugs?”

“Are you wearing a wire?” he asked and attempted to peer down my t-shirt. I tugged on the black cord around my neck and produced my necklace. I attempted a little levity as I got up and opened the door to where the CO was standing outside just in case I needed help.

if he get’s stupid go for the throat then the nuts .

“No wire here just this necklace.” I said as I walked back towards him.

“That’s nice your boyfriend give it you?”

“No a friend in New Zealand sent it to me.”

“We could really have fun together.”

“ I don’t do drugs.”

“You really should let your hair down for me. I’d love to see you with your hair down.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why won’t you go out with me?”

let me list the reasons… not desperate enough…wrong…unethical.

“I’m not a bad looking guy.”

this is so not happening to me.

“I don’t date younger men.”

“How old are you ?”


“Really you look way younger. My girlfriend is 27.”

this would be the girlfriend you physically abused? Betcha she’s re-thinking the decision to date you.

“We broke up yesterday.” He added just in case I thought he was a cheater in addition to a violent drug addicted felon charged with statutory rape.

smart woman.

He continued to attempt to sweet talk me for several more minutes. As he talked I made a note to contact his lawyer. I felt he needed to be seen by his psychiatrist. Judging from the way he was acting and what he was saying I got the impression that the 24 year old bipolar man was going through a maniac stage.

“Let your hair down.”

I stood up and gathered my things to leave. I explained that I had to see another client and wished him well. As I made my way back to the office I called my official unofficial supervisor and told her what had happened. Naturally she felt it her duty to tease me about it.

“So what are you going to wear for your date?” she inquired.

“I was thinking of getting an orange dress to match his jumpsuit.”

“Orange is not your color my dear, stay away from the orange.”

“So what is the perfect outfit to wear when an inmate invites you out to dinner?”


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Posted by @ 11:12 AM
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