Yesterday was the Volunteer Appreciation Party at Yet Wah. This was quite nervewracking, as I had to give a speech to 200 volunteers, and then MC the raffle, which took an eternity. But it was great, and the volunteers even got up and said how cool I was. It was kind of like camp, everyone exchanging information and hugging goodbye. I was feeling fabulous, and then I was reminded that my life is never supposed to go this well.
Suddenly, my stalker volunteer comes up to me. He's the one who kept saying, "When we gonna slow dance" at the closing night party, the one Big Chris refused to rescue me from. He saunters up and says, "Can I talk to you?"
Oh fuck. "Yeah, of course."
"I just want to make sure we're cool. I mean, yeah I'm a little obsessed with you, but I'm not obsessed obsessed. You know. I'm just getting a wierd vibe from you today, so I just wanted to make sure I wasn't freaking you out."
Yes. You are freaking me out. You really fucking freak me out everytime I see you. In fact, you're freaking me out right now.
"Don't be silly! We're so cool. We couldn't be cooler. I adore you. You're my favorite volunteer." Oh my god, make this end. Please, just make him go away. "Hey look. They just replenished the eggrolls." And off I ran.
It only got worse.
There's a group of volunteers, guys in their late 20's and early 30's who fancy themselves film experts and live in their parent's basements. Their volunteer t-shirts are always filthy, they're terrified of women, and they show up at anything with free food. There's about 5 of them, and they all congregated at one table. In an attempt at hilarity, I rigged the raffle so guys at their table won a manicure, a pearl necklace, and a silk scarf. They were pissed. And drunk on the free Stella. They started hooting and hollering at me from their table in the back.
"Yo Beth. Hook us up! Be our beer wench."
But I had a microphone and a stage. I was going to win this one. Or so I thought.
"Hey look. It's the pretty boy table. Ladies, I ask that you now turn your heads and admire the 5 gentleman sitting in the rear. I think it's safe to say that they're all single and looking. Seriously, seriously looking."
The place went nuts, and the guys shut up.
After the raffle and speeches, the party mellowed out and people sat around and drank. I was at a table with my real favorite volunteer, Denise, gossipping and making dinner plans. The hot volunteer photographer comes up and gives me some photos he took of me. Denise is kicking me under the table, agreeing that this guy is adoreable, as the three of us sit and chat, with the table of 5 freakshows right behind me. As Mr. Hot Photographer gets up to leave, I notice that my short, pleated skirt is flipped up over the arm of the chair, and my ass has been hanging out for like a half and hour, in full, perfect view of the "pretty boy table."
I push my skirt down, turn and look at all of them, and say, "Thanks for letting me know my ass was hanging out, fellas."
They all errupt into hysterics, falling of chairs and high fiving each other.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.