Cabbage Confession 1

(This blog entry was written on Sunday, September 10, 2006, approximately one week before I created this blogspot).

I must have one of the most interesting jobs one could possibly have while going to school. I am a cabbie. I live the life of cabbage. (I borrowed this term from a friend). And so, in honor of such an awesome word, I have decided to start blogging my cabbage.

Wow. Just look at that phrase, "Blogging my cabbage". I love the English language. It sounds so naughty (or at least gluttonous), and it is actually quite the opposite.

I first engaged in cabbage about 4 weeks ago. I am still by no means an expert, but I am learning. And I can already tell that I am going to have a hard time remembering all of these stories. So, I figure myspace (and maybe a blogspot if I accumulate enough stories) would be a good way to share the blogging of my cabbage with everyone. So dig in!

Tonight's story is a tale of two middle aged gentlemen. I picked them up at a bar in Old Town. They were trying to decide whether or not they wanted to go to Sundance, and then proceed to the strip club, or if they just wanted to go straight to the strip club.

Hmmm. As odd as it may sound, I honestly can't decide at which of these two places I would most likely be found. Honestly. Strip bars are just retarded, and I can't stand country bars. It's a toss. I think I will be content in never stepping foot in either one.

And with that, they decided to go to the strip club. So, I took them there. They must have had a load of money to burn because I can't imagine that such establishments would be inexpensive. But such carnal indulgence is not satisfied merely with the whims of skanky/sleesy entertainment. No no no. They wanted to drag me into the picture.

No, they didn't literally want to take me into the strip club. But they did want me to remain there, the car idling away in the parking lot, while they did who-knows-what. I told them that I would have to leave the meter running, and it would tick up at a moderate $0.40 per minute. And yet they thought it was a reasonable amount, so they agreed. I was shocked. I was speechless. I was completely unprepared and bored, so after about 10 minutes I pulled out my cell phone and tried calling people to pass the time. That wasn't long lasting, however, So I started writing out a fictitious conversation in Chinese as I put my Mandarin to the test. (What, who wouldn't start writing in Chinese in the parking lot of a strip club?) I suppose I can cross that off of my "to do before I die list". But first I should probably actually *put* it on the list. Meh, minor details.

And so I twiddled my thumbs, listed to music, wrote in Chinese, and killed some aliens on my cell phone. It was the easiest almost $30 I have ever made. Even easier than the $100 I got for doing a Michael Jackson dance routine once.

And I concluded the night by taking these two people to a designated place of residence.

Sadly enough, I think I would have made more money if I would have turned down their offer for me to wait for them and instead gone and engaged in more cabbage.

I guess I will never know.