What A Girl Wants

What a girl wants

What a girl needs

Whatever makes me happy

Sets you free

And I’m thanking you

For knowing exactly

What a girl wants

What a girl needs

– Christina Aguilera


Earlier this week, as I was leaving work, a guy I’d never seen around the office held the door open for me. As I walked through the open door, he smiled and asked, “How was your day?” “It could’ve been better,” I replied with a small smile, “How was yours?” “The same. Much better now though.” He insinuated that, because we were leaving work, our days had no where left to go but up.

We walked together along the sidewalk in silence for a bit. You know, that weird heavy silence. The kind of silence you feel obligated to fill. But I’m a terrible small-talker. Ugh. Small talk is the worst. It makes me anxious, and nervous, and awkward. Therefore, a normal heavy silence is only amplified even more by the obvious non-verbals emitting from my body…

However, on this particular day – as I tried to think of something more to say – I noticed the man beside of me start to nonchalantly hang back. I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, kind sir, whom I do not know. Thank you for acknowledging our/my awkwardness, and then taking the initiative to bow out.”

Ironically, at that moment, I wanted to turn around and hug him.

Do you ever have moments like that? Moments where you want to thank random people for some random shit?

I do.

Like, all of the time.

For instance, over the past seven days I have walked into two different banks to deposit the same check on three different occasions. Any other time I would have been pissed. Pissed about the inconvenience, pissed about the service, and pissed about the run-around. However, every time I walked into the bank, whoever was sitting behind the counter would smile and say, “Oh yes! You came in yesterday, didn’t you?”

They recognized me. They remembered my situation, remembered my face, and tried to assure me they wanted to help as much as possible. And I appreciated that.

I appreciated them so nicely… not helping me.

Mr. Big, on the other hand, wanted me to show my ass. “I’d go in there and tell them you want someone to sign that check right now,” he said. I shook my head, “But none of those girls have the authority to sign it.” “Sure they do!” “No. No, they don’t. That’s why there is a branch manager.”

What the hell? Was I actually taking up for a company providing poor customer service? For shit’s sake, the tables sure had turned in our relationship.

Or how about today, when that lady cop pulled Big over while he was driving my car back to the BBB on our way back from lunch. Sure, she may have flipped her blue lights on because my tag has been expired since January… but you know what, it was kinda refreshing riding beside of Big without him staring down at his phone the whole time.

So, thanks, Ms. Officer. Here’s to you… and for that break in car-sickness.

Oh and then there was Tuesday night. I had a long day at work, a headache, and had just spent a few hours at the hair salon. All I wanted to do was watch TV, eat something good for dinner, shower-bath, and go to bed (around 9:30-ish, obvi). Howevs, I had just gotten my brows waxed and looked like shit. So going to the grocery store was a no-go. And as much as I tried to talk myself into a HotPocket… I just couldn’t. I ended up thawing out that damned hamburger meat and whipping up a mean pot of Hamburger Helper – the Potato Stroganoff kind. (Yes, that’s my idea of good food some nights. So what?).

Anywho, as I stirred the Helper, I read the back of the box for entertainment. Suddenly, I saw it. There it was, right in front of my exhausted little face – “Add your own twist!” The box mentioned something about adding 2 oz. of cream cheese for some “extra creaminess.” “Well, don’t mind if I do,” I thought, as I dumped the rest of my Philadelphia block in the pot.

Uhh, can we say de-friggin’-lish? It was so good, Sonny and I ate that shit two days in a row! And just let me tell ya, that’s saying something, ’cause we don’t do leftovers in Casa de la Clariss… we feed that crap to the vultures (a.k.a. Big and Bubs). So for that, I would like to tip my hat to Mr. Helper – you rock, yo.

(Also, for the record, I can make some pretty badass homemade stroganoff. Hows about gettin’ off my back, jackasses.)

Little situations like this happen at least once or twice to me throughout each and every one of my days. If there is one thing I can pat myself on the back for, it would be my appreciation for the little things. I can be in the worst mood, having the most terrible day, dealing with the stupidest shit and still find something silly to be thankful for. Although, I must admit, I am probably not as vocal about my thanksgivings as I should be… but hey, that is something I plan to work on.

And maybe eventually, one day, I’ll get around to writing more thank you notes like… this one.




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