If You Belonged Here

The Model is Begging the Question and Reminiscing

Rex was my first love.

We met when I was 7 and he was 9. My mom worked as a textile artist in an old shoe factory in Tucson, and Rex's mom had her sewing shop in the same building. My two brothers and I came into work with her one day and Rex was there with his mom that day, too.

I remember that day clearly. He was sewing designs into the calluses in the palm of his hand with a needle and thread and showing my brothers his Gameboy.

I was immediately enamored of him.

From that point, our families got closer and closer. My brothers and Rex became the very best of friends. It was the early 90's, so they skateboarded, had a garage band that covered songs from grunge bands, and taught themselves to program on some pretty primitive computers. My mom eventually started working with Rex's mom at her wedding dress company, and the four of us kids were homeschooled together by my dad. Rex slept over at our house probably at least 4 times a week for a long time. My brothers went on sailing trips with Rex and his dad, our parents took trips to exotic places together, we celebrated Christmas at their house... You get the picture.

The whole time, I had the hugest infatuation with him. But he pretty much didn't know I even existed.

(My brothers, Rex, and me.)

When I was 11, my family moved back to L.A. Our parents didn't end it on the nicest of terms, so our families lost contact almost completely. My brothers and Rex stayed in contact for a little while, but it faded out.

We all went on with our lives.

I grew and started modeling, my brothers continued programming (they're both software engineers currently), I eventually got knocked up and married Captain Armani, years passed...

But I never forgot about Rex.

Every year on his birthday I would notice what day it was, and I would sigh and wonder what he was doing now and imagine running into him somewhere and catching up. I wondered if I would even recognize him, or he me.

A few years ago, Rex got my brother's phone number, thanks to the power of teh internetz. My brother came to visit him in Tucson and they had lots of good laughs about old times. We all became friends on MySpace, but I didn't really talk to him.

I was happily married at the time (or so I thought), so I just looked at his pictures and sighed over what could have been but now never would, and let it go.

As you may already know, I split with the Captain last year and we (the kids, the Captain, and I) moved back to L.A. to raise the kids there together as two single parents.

I had been Facebook friends with Rex for a while, and one day I sent him a totally benign and mundane message. I still figured that all was lost and the door was closed forever, but I did want to see what he was really like now and if he had been worth pining over for all those years. 

We started writing back and forth and talking about all sorts of things old and new, and sparks flew. We had eerily large amounts of obscure things in common. We started talking on the phone and texting all day every day. One spectacular weekend in Miami later, we knew we were in love. We began visiting each other every chance we could get. He was flying me in and out of Tucson practically every week for a while. The opportunity came along for the kids and I to move out here with him several months ago, so we did. And it's wonderful.

He's the one. The One. And he really always has been.

I think there's something very special about first loves. My current stepdad was my mom's high school boyfriend and they reunited when I was a kid after 18 years apart. I believe The Dol has a similar story about her dad and stepmom with an even greater gap in time.

So, my question is this:

Who was your first love?

Do you still carry feelings for them deep down somewhere?

Why tipping is great Karma

Alright, if it was President Chance instead of President Obama, one of my campaign promises would be that all young adults have to work one summer at a full-service restaurant. 

We could call it a National Service in the Service Industry Initiative. Or NSITSII for short. There are a lot of reasons why this is a great idea. I know I'm not the only one that thinks that kids today have no work ethic, are lazy, disrespectful, arrogant, and want everything handed to them on a silver platter. Whoa, I think I just had a flashback to when I was a teenager. Anyway, working in the service industry is a great teacher.

You learn the value of being on time, having clean and pressed clothing, diversity, and the value of an honest dollar. You learn how to have patience with people that can't make up their mind (Lady, I have six other tables). You learn how to act understanding when people try to re-write the menu (No, you can't put the filet mignon on the salad instead of the chicken and pay the chicken price). And you learn that eye contact is a great way to communicate (Hello!! My eyes are up here!). The best part of being a server is that you get immediate results from your efforts in the form of tips.

Now when I say that tipping is great for your karma, I'm not necessarily talking about normal tips or the standard places you do tip. It's important to tip at restaurants because it’s the right thing to do. These people generally make around $3.00 to $7.00 an hour for hard, intense, work. 

Besides, if you’re not making your own food and serving it to yourself, you want to make sure that the person that does likes you. 

What I mean is, tipping when it isn't expected and tipping in a way that surprises someone. If you’re at a diner and you only have coffee, but the server kept it full and hot, give them a five and let them keep the change. 

I guarantee you will see a nice smile on their face. 

It was the change to you but to them it was a mood changer. Tip the baristas a couple of bucks here and there. Yes I know the coffee is four bucks but if you had to hear , "Gimme a triple, half caf, light foam, breve, no whip, mocha, iced latte with caramel, and chocolate sprinkles," one hundred times a day, you might develop a costly Valium habit.

Tip your valet. After all, you're trusting an eighteen-year-old pimple with your forty-thousand dollar baby. When staying in a hotel, leave a few bucks on the bed with a note saying thanks for picking up your soiled wet towels off the bathroom floor. If you don't, then don't cry when you realize that not only have your sheets not been cleaned but they are from the screamers next door.

 

 

I know, it sounds like extortion, but don't look at it that way. 

The kind of karma I am talking about comes back to you immediately after you have done something nice. You feel it inside you because it is your self-worth that is growing and expanding. More about this kind of karma in later posts. I am going to leave you tonight with some insider tips on the service industry and how to get the most of your experience.

Don't tell your server that you’re a great tipper. They will know that your over-the-top requests are going to end up with you leaving 12%.

If you are in a busy club or bar on a hot date, don't yell out, "Hey sport/chief/dude/barkeep/sweetie/babe!" Raise your hand until the bartender makes eye contact, and then wait your turn. Get your drinks, leave a big tip in a way that the bartender knows that it was from you, and I promise you, you won't have to wait the next time. It’s called pay to play.

Don't take your bad day out on your server. And if your food is bad, don't yell at the server, they didn't make it. Ask for a manager, it’s their job to take your crap.

If you arrive at a restaurant on a Saturday night without a reservation and the host tells you it's going to be an hour wait, don't get pissed at him because everyone else had the intelligence to call ahead. Tip him ten or twenty dollars and he'll get you right in. If you don't think you should have to tip him, then enjoy the wait.

Just like everywhere else in this world...keep your hands to yourself.

A couple of other places where tipping or gift giving is the way to go:

Tip the person that cuts your hair twenty percent...this is another example of pay to play...if you want your sideburns even, your ear hair trimmed, and your head massaged then give them a fat tip and they will go out of their way to make you happy. 

Mine has a habit of pressing her breasts into my arm...I am not sure if this is because I tip well and am cute as hell, or she is just unaware of where the twins are, but who the hell am I to complain?

Bring your dental hygienist a gift card to the movies...do I really have to explain why?

You don't have to be rich to have class...in fact, the two seldom go together, but appropriate tipping is a sign of great class.

 

Footnote* Tips for people you don't normally tip doesn't have to be money. A five or ten dollar gift card to Target or Starbucks is even better because of the age old saying...it's the thought that counts. And that is great karma.

Alice Measures Polly

 Alice: Why did you start If You Belonged Here?

Polly: I’m a very private person—aloof, secretive, and sarcastic—and the blog is an experiment in being more approachable without actually having to, Hank forbid, make actual human contact.

Alice: Where-o-where did you come up with the name?
 
Polly: I’m from New England and once upon a time at a wedding, Ramblin’ Jack was mentioning how half the street signs in my neighborhood are missing. My friend got this really sly, I’ll-let-you-in-on-a-secret look on his face and said, “that’s because if you belonged here, you’d know where you were going.” All of life is like that for me. I’m just trying to find my way around but someone has stolen all the signs.
 
Alice: Admit it, you made Ramblin’ Jack fall in love with you before he knew what hit him.
 
Polly: I’ve never denied it. I dazzled him with my smile, lured him with my wiles, and then sealed the deal with flannel pajamas. 
 
Alice: Do you think we will all win some sort of blogging award for being the hottest group of bloggers out there?
 
Polly: We definitely have the best profile pictures.
 
Alice: Am I your favorite?
 
Polly: Are you kidding? I’m my favorite.
 
Chance: Is this blog your one true love?
 
Polly: Ramblin’ Jack is my one true love. After that, I’ve got a soft spot for gerbils.
 
Alice: You’re the leader of this nonsense so does that mean you get final editing power over the entire team?
 
Polly: I only use my powers for good and I try to stay humble. But I admit that sometimes the power goes to my head.

Diosa: How are you keeping your sanity trying to organize all of us fabulous women?

Polly: I don't. I can't. So I stopped trying and decided to focus on the fabulous. And Chance. He's very helpful in a pinch.

Alice: If you had to keep only one of your posts, which would it be?
 
Polly: Darth Dateable. I think it’s solid advice. Once you go geek, you don’t go back.
 
Alice: Do you think Chance is a Save-the-Whales Zsa Zsa?
 
Polly: He might be a little more of a Save-the-Whales Michael Stipe. He seems less self-indulgent and more virtuous than the rest of us, somehow, while at the same time being just as self-indulgent and, well, quite prone to the naughty. I don't know how he pulls it off but he does.
 
Alice: Why don’t you have any pets?

Polly: I consider Secret Lulu a pet. But even if you don’t count her, we totally have a betta. And I’ve sponsored the adoption of no less than six webkinz.

But I can’t have a real dog or a real cat. I’m allergic to cats, but it wouldn’t matter. The food smells horrible and the poop smells worse. And sometimes they get diarrhea.

Alice: So, you refuse to eat at a buffet, huh?
 
Polly: I can’t eat buffet or cafeteria. I just can’t. The food is room temperature. It’s been breathed on. I’m suspicious of anything that comes from a vat. And maybe it's just a coincidence, but I mention diarrhea and that prompts a question about buffet? Of course it does.
 
Alice: Funniest thing you said this week?
 
Polly: I’m hilarious and I’m organized, but it’s not like I’m walking around taking notes on my own funny. I should probably hire a person for that.
 
Alice: Where do you wish you were right now?
 
Polly: At any given moment, on any given day, I’d probably choose to be at a spa doing spa things. In slow motion to avoid stress.
 
Alice: What would your mother say if she read this blog?
 
Polly: Well, she could read the blog but she doesn’t. I think that translates roughly into she’s already heard it all.
 
Alice: As an INTJ you cannot rest until everything is wrapped up, decided, and determined. That’s a quote. So does that mean you would have rather just written the questions and the answers to this interview yourself?
 
Polly: I want my house to be clean but I’d rather not do it myself. I like predictability but I’m not a micromanager. I prefer to sub out what I can.
 
Alice: You have a birthday coming up. Am I invited to the party?
 
Polly: Did you get me an expensive gift?
 
Alice: What’s your dream job?
 
Polly: Psychic advisor to Oprah. Or blues singer. Maybe both. But really, I'd like to be paid to attend spas. Not to review them or anything like that. Just to be there doing spa things.
 
Alice: Favorite movie, book, song.
 
Polly: If Lucy Fell, Shadow of the Wind, Close to Me.
 
Alice: What is your best INTJ characteristic?
 
Polly: I don’t have to be right. I usually am, but when I’m not, I’m fine with it. Unless the other person is wrong about me being wrong. Then I'm annoyed.
 
Alice: Being an INTJ means you’re not very friendly, right?
 
Polly: That depends on what you mean by friendly. But I’ll admit to disliking a sizable portion of the population. But only because they're idiots.
 
Alice: Where did you learn to do shots of Patron with such form?
 
Polly: The Marine Corps.
 
Alice: Do you love Foreskin’s Lament so far or what?
 
Polly: Everything but the genital mutilation.
 
Alice: If you had to be a celebrity, who would you be and why?
 
Polly: I’d be myself in celebrity form. Because I could keep my life but be fabulously wealthy, have more staff, and wear Valentino.
 
Alice: Most embarrassing moment?
 
Polly: Once, when I was packing, my vibrator fell out of a box and rolled across the floor. Of course I'd hired a moving company to do the heavy lifting, and of course the wayward item landed at the feet of one of the movers. And then the batteries popped out. I think Bookgirl might be able to top that, but not by much.
 
Alice: Proudest moment?
 
Polly: The vibrator thing.
 
Alice: One thing none of us know about you (except maybe Jack, but preferably not even him).
 
Polly: There’s a reason no one knows; I can keep a secret.
 
Pandora: I just purchased a candy bar. What was your last purchase?
 
Polly: Socks and underwear. Really.
 
Chance: Would you rather have a sex tape of yourself find its way to the internet or never be able to have sex again?
 
Polly: Too late.
 
Alice: How's the book coming along?
 
Polly: I’m on sabbatical.
 
Bookgirl: Never ending physical discomfort in the, lets say, hip or loud shrill screaming 20 minutes each day for the rest of your days?
 
Polly: I’ve kind of built up a tolerance for the shrill screaming and, in spite of it, I've become irrationally fond of Secret Lulu, so I’ll go with that.
 
Alice: You seem to have quite the educated opinion when it comes to birth control. What gives?
 
Polly: Everyone who is having sex should either be planning to use birth control or planning not to use birth control. But there should be planning. I cannot think of one manmade problem that would not be improved by the widespread use of birth control.
 
Alice: Rhode Island and San Diego. Biggest similarity?
 
Polly: The geographic footprint.

Alice: But seriously, am I your favorite?

Polly: I was being serious.