smiling pretty.

I've been losing sleep over a guilty conscience these past two nights. I had a party of nine sit in my section the evening before last. They were all mid to late 20's, about my age, celebrating a few birthdays. They were quite high maintenance as we continued to shuttle heaters and blankets over to their section. No matter how much warmth we bestowed upon them, they wanted more.

Four heaters, seven blankets, about ten over-sized beach towels, a round of shots, and two bottles of wine later, the meal has commenced and it's time to drop the check. For all parties of six or more the staff here at Bacara Bistro add an automatic gratuity of 20% to the bill. So, I did my duty and auto-gratted their bill, circled the added gratuity and handed the check to the young gentleman that sought me out to tell me he wanted to take care of the bill.

He stands next to me filling in his name and room number, giving me his autograph and such. He hands the check presenter back to me and heads back to his peeps.

Low and behold this kind, or perhaps rather aloof, gentleman has left me a $300 tip. Apparently he didn't see the circled automatic gratuity of $133 and added an additional $160. In that moment, I should have said something. I should have brought his attention to the automatic gratuity. I shoulda woulda coulda, but I didn't. And now my conscience is eating me alive. His total bill was over a grand. I let their neediness dictate my decision to not correct his mistake, and now the insomnia is waning at my existence. What's done is done and he will never know. I'm sure he's some sort of trust fund baby multi-millionaire or something of the like. Anyone who can drop a grand on one meal for all his friends must not have any worries about keeping the utilities on.

Me on the other hand, I spend my time free-loading and cutting corners for good deals. I bartered my way into a fantastic deal on the highlight of my life right now, a giant red comfy chair for my library:

Two weeks ago I got busted for breaking into the Bacara tennis courts. My friend Melissa and I were looking to play on the well-groomed courts, for free of course. As we are creeping in the bushes trying to get through a side gate, we hear a voice shout, "Hey ladies, the main entrance is over here."

Overly embarrassed we head around to the main entrance, and there we meet Peter. The professional tennis court groomer. He says to us, "Give me a minute and I'll get you ladies set up on a court." And so we wait. Too embarrassed to run away, he pulls us into his office and I introduce myself, telling him how I work there and such. He looks at me a bit shifty like and says "So how long have you worked here?" I reply with "a couple weeks." He says, "so you know about the Facilities Use Pass then?" Of course I know about the Facilities Use Pass but I try and play my dumb blonde card and respond, "Yes, my manager has mentioned those but I didn't know you needed one for the tennis courts." Peter says "Umm, yes, you need one of those. These are very high profile courts and this is peak season. We spend a lot of time grooming them." Grooming them. Ha, as if they're pets. Melissa and I exchange looks. She's so embarrassed. She wants to make it all better by paying the $25 an hour to rent a court. I'm like, oh heck no. Let's get outta here. So we politely excuse ourselves, apologize for the inconvenience, and scram.

I'm a cheap-skate. I also enjoy the thrill of breaking rules. Busting into high profile tennis courts and getting caught is just my kind of adventure. I also appreciate such cheap entertainment as attempting to throw a stache on my four month old nephew. You can see my unsuccessful attempt below.

Entertainment comes in all shapes and sizes for me. The roundish gentleman in the hawaiian shirt with the floppy gray hair who came to fix my dryer the other day was just the best. His name is Darrell. I knew from the conversation on the phone that I was in for a real treat. He shows up to assess the situation and immediately begins giving me the low down on dryers. Their makes, models, parts. The difference between Maytag and Kenmore. All the little ways in which these corporations are saving money and cheating us out of quality products. He completely dis-assembles my dryer right in front of my eyes, explicitly telling me each step. He fixed the issue and slapped me with a very expensive bill. There's no cheap-skating my way out of this one. Thanks Darrell, for the $153 lesson on dryers.

In other news, I've endeavored to begin making ice cream. I bought vanilla beans and ice cream cartons online. I made strawberry cheesecake ice cream at 11:30 last night after my absurdly slow shift at work. It was a grand adventure. The ice cream making. Not the absurdly slow shift at work. 

I've also endeavored to begin learning Spanish. I took two years in high school. It's time to get fluent. I went half-sies on Rosetta Stone levels 1-5. Hopefully I'll be conversational by the time I head to South America next summer. That's right, it's time to leave the country. I haven't been away from America in almost 4 years. Not ok. This year, I'll be saving for continental adventures that will coalesce in the summer of 2014. I cannot wait. 

Things to look forward to include:

My golden birthday camping extravaganza this Friday

Ragnar Napa Valley in late September and

My brother's 21st b-day Vegas adventures in October

Life is good. Lots to smile about. I may just take myself on a date to see Girl Most Likely this afternoon before work. 

Anywho, off to enjoy the sunshine with a good book. Happy day to you.