It's Not MY Fault You're An Idiot
Someone, anyone, I beg of you, please explain this to me:
"My fiance-to-be."
.......what?
How EXACTLY is someone a "fiance-to-be"? Is it because the person who is your "to-be" is too chicken shit to do it now? Because last time I checked there wasn't really a restriction on how long someone could be engaged. It's not like the Spanish Inquisition will come down on your head and shove a hot poker in your ass because you have been engaged longer than a year and a day.
Here are a list of possible excuses that I've come up with:
"He/She/It/They (if you're Mormon) can't afford a ring right now." ....and your point being? I'm pretty damn sure a requirement (unless you're a Housewife of Orange County) of love was not that you had to be loaded. In fact, there are plenty of people who are lower-class to poor that are absolutely in love with their partner, and they realized that they found the person who they want to be with for the rest of their life and they go without a ring; the idea that they are going to get married (once they can afford it) is good enough for them. Screw the bling.
"We don't want to get people's hopes up about the wedding" (an actual excuse that I've heard) I'm sorry, but last time I checked, it was YOUR wedding. Exactly WHOSE hopes don't you have to "get up"? Your parents? Your Aunt Mildred who lived 1,500 miles away? Shut up.
"We're still to young." Enough said.
"We're not quite ready for that." Well, obviously SOMEONE is. One of the two of you (or three, or four, again, if you're Mormon) If the idea is already in someone's head, then one of you is ready. My guess is that you're into it, and the idea scares the hell out of them.
These are just a few excuses that I can think of that people would say "fiance-to-be." Granted, there are probably more, but in reality I honestly don't care. Either it's fiance or not.
And if your excuse matches any of this, then probably not.
"My fiance-to-be."
.......what?
How EXACTLY is someone a "fiance-to-be"? Is it because the person who is your "to-be" is too chicken shit to do it now? Because last time I checked there wasn't really a restriction on how long someone could be engaged. It's not like the Spanish Inquisition will come down on your head and shove a hot poker in your ass because you have been engaged longer than a year and a day.
Here are a list of possible excuses that I've come up with:
"He/She/It/They (if you're Mormon) can't afford a ring right now." ....and your point being? I'm pretty damn sure a requirement (unless you're a Housewife of Orange County) of love was not that you had to be loaded. In fact, there are plenty of people who are lower-class to poor that are absolutely in love with their partner, and they realized that they found the person who they want to be with for the rest of their life and they go without a ring; the idea that they are going to get married (once they can afford it) is good enough for them. Screw the bling.
"We don't want to get people's hopes up about the wedding" (an actual excuse that I've heard) I'm sorry, but last time I checked, it was YOUR wedding. Exactly WHOSE hopes don't you have to "get up"? Your parents? Your Aunt Mildred who lived 1,500 miles away? Shut up.
"We're still to young." Enough said.
"We're not quite ready for that." Well, obviously SOMEONE is. One of the two of you (or three, or four, again, if you're Mormon) If the idea is already in someone's head, then one of you is ready. My guess is that you're into it, and the idea scares the hell out of them.
These are just a few excuses that I can think of that people would say "fiance-to-be." Granted, there are probably more, but in reality I honestly don't care. Either it's fiance or not.
And if your excuse matches any of this, then probably not.
Update
It's been a while since I've posted anything. I don't really think that anyone reads this anymore (or if they ever did) but I figured I would post something for the hell of it.
A lot has happened in the last couple of months. My best friend moved to NYC. She's going to grad school, and I'm ridiculously proud of her, but I miss her. A lot. I miss her at really random times, too. Times that wouldn't make sense to anyone else. I'm going to see her in March. I wish it were sooner.
I've made a few decisions that I'm happy with. I'm not discussing all of them; one however, I will. I'm dropping my minor so that I can graduate in December. Otherwise, it would be in May. Besides, no one cares about minors right? Right? ....Guys?
I'm still with my boyfriend, that's going okay. Yet I'm still..... I don't know. There are some things that I guess I'm always going to be ridiculously stupid about, no matter how much I fight it. The best thing I do is just try and ignore it.
I'm down to part time at work. I cannot begin to tell you how absolutely relieved I am about it! No more being there 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. Granted, I don't have Friday and Saturday nights, and Sundays off anymore, but hey, you can't always get what you want.
I'm kind of in a weird place right now. I feel like I'm in real-life limbo. About what, I'm not sure. I'm happy (mostly) about things (mostly). I just wonder where I'm going in life. Not in an I'm-being-emo type of way, but more in a I'm-wondering-what-life-has-in-store-for-me kind of way.
It'll be interesting to see what graduation brings for me.
A lot has happened in the last couple of months. My best friend moved to NYC. She's going to grad school, and I'm ridiculously proud of her, but I miss her. A lot. I miss her at really random times, too. Times that wouldn't make sense to anyone else. I'm going to see her in March. I wish it were sooner.
I've made a few decisions that I'm happy with. I'm not discussing all of them; one however, I will. I'm dropping my minor so that I can graduate in December. Otherwise, it would be in May. Besides, no one cares about minors right? Right? ....Guys?
I'm still with my boyfriend, that's going okay. Yet I'm still..... I don't know. There are some things that I guess I'm always going to be ridiculously stupid about, no matter how much I fight it. The best thing I do is just try and ignore it.
I'm down to part time at work. I cannot begin to tell you how absolutely relieved I am about it! No more being there 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. Granted, I don't have Friday and Saturday nights, and Sundays off anymore, but hey, you can't always get what you want.
I'm kind of in a weird place right now. I feel like I'm in real-life limbo. About what, I'm not sure. I'm happy (mostly) about things (mostly). I just wonder where I'm going in life. Not in an I'm-being-emo type of way, but more in a I'm-wondering-what-life-has-in-store-for-me kind of way.
It'll be interesting to see what graduation brings for me.
This Road
I find myself unable to avoid asking this question:
Is it really worth it?
Is all this work and effort and time that I've put into this really worth the bullshit that I get in return? Should I even continue it, knowing there's still so much to do, and I don't even know if I'll get anything in return? Should I continue on this road, when it's so long and lonely, and I don't know if it will ever end? This road that at first offered the opportunity of so much, and now seems so narrow?
I'm walking this road right now, and seriously contemplating turning back.
Is it really worth it?
Is all this work and effort and time that I've put into this really worth the bullshit that I get in return? Should I even continue it, knowing there's still so much to do, and I don't even know if I'll get anything in return? Should I continue on this road, when it's so long and lonely, and I don't know if it will ever end? This road that at first offered the opportunity of so much, and now seems so narrow?
I'm walking this road right now, and seriously contemplating turning back.
Regrets
There comes a point in everyone's life where you question: what if I had done this differently?
When I was 17, I told my friend Stacie "As soon as I turn 18, I'm leaving this country and moving to Ireland."
She told me that it was impossible, I didn't have the finances, it was irresponsible, etc.
But now I ask myself: what if I had?
Would I still be at this dead end job, with dead end pay, and still in school? Or would I be living large, happy, and alright with where I was?
Life is full of regrets. Anyone who says otherwise is full of shit. I regret not moving to Ireland. I regret not doing what my instincts told me to.
We have them for a reason. If we don't follow them, then what is the point?
When I was 17, I told my friend Stacie "As soon as I turn 18, I'm leaving this country and moving to Ireland."
She told me that it was impossible, I didn't have the finances, it was irresponsible, etc.
But now I ask myself: what if I had?
Would I still be at this dead end job, with dead end pay, and still in school? Or would I be living large, happy, and alright with where I was?
Life is full of regrets. Anyone who says otherwise is full of shit. I regret not moving to Ireland. I regret not doing what my instincts told me to.
We have them for a reason. If we don't follow them, then what is the point?
Why Bother When It's Boring?
Just a warning, this is an emo blog.
Sometimes I wonder why I even bother.
With the communication tools available to people it's a wonder that someone can feel alone. Yet a lot of the time I feel like my identity (at least a network one) is pretty fucking useless. And it makes me realize that I'm really not an interesting person; if anything, I'm a boring one.
Really. One of the worst things is realizing that you're boring.
The fact that you tweet and no one really cares, or you write something on facebook and it's pointless, or, like I'm doing now, you write a blog and realize that NO ONE is going to read it makes me wonder why I even bother.
Of course this is just a projection of me in real life. Because in reality, your network personality is usually a lot more interesting than your actual being because everything can be fabricated.
And based on everything network wise, that is a very, very depressing thought for me.
Sometimes I wonder why I even bother.
With the communication tools available to people it's a wonder that someone can feel alone. Yet a lot of the time I feel like my identity (at least a network one) is pretty fucking useless. And it makes me realize that I'm really not an interesting person; if anything, I'm a boring one.
Really. One of the worst things is realizing that you're boring.
The fact that you tweet and no one really cares, or you write something on facebook and it's pointless, or, like I'm doing now, you write a blog and realize that NO ONE is going to read it makes me wonder why I even bother.
Of course this is just a projection of me in real life. Because in reality, your network personality is usually a lot more interesting than your actual being because everything can be fabricated.
And based on everything network wise, that is a very, very depressing thought for me.
Insecurities
Insecurities can be funny things. It probably doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that I'm not talking haha-I'm-laughing-and-full-of-joy funny, but I-can't-believe-this-is-happening funny. The kind of funny that when you think about it a year from that moment, you say to yourself "Really.... ice climbing?" (Thank you for that forever useful quote, Jess.) They change you, or can prevent you from growing. They make you hesitate, when action would be wiser. They put thoughts into your head that, let's face it, are most likely ridiculous and unfounded, ideas that you know rationally will never happen; but there is that little voice in your head that whispers the warnings that disaster will ensue should you stay on your path, or even entertain the notion that what you are striving for is worth it, and will come without folly. And the worst part is all these insecurities can come from the most insignificant things: a remark someone said, a quote that has nothing to do with anything serious, a look given to you by someone unimportant, or a lack of response from someone who is, in fact, important. And that's what I've noticed: insecurities come a lot of the time from the actions of others. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that others' are responsible for the way that I infer things, but they sure don't help. I know, I know, take responsibility for yourself, and all that bullshit. Yet, when you don't get certain responses or reactions that you expect, and this happens on a constant basis, you start to doubt yourself. Is there something wrong with me? Is there something that just turns me off to the other person? (I don't mean in a "you don't want to bang me" turn me off, just in a general "you aren't important so I'm turned off to your actions" kind of way.)
Recently someone asked me "What happened to the girl I knew?" The funny thing is, I'm still the girl that everyone knew; I actually haven't changed. There comes a point where you start to know someone better, and you realize that they might not be everything you cracked them up to be. But that doesn't mean that they have changed: you just become aware more of who they are, and everything that that means.
One thing about knowing me better is I'm ridiculously insecure. Who, me? Lawl. Yeah, I'm fantastic at putting up this front that I'm sarcastic and can take whatever and don't put up with bullshit. And it's true, I don't. But that doesn't mean I'm infalliable. It doesn't mean that I don't feel completely lame because I don't get a response or a laugh, or some other ridiculous reaction that shouldn't matter, but it does. Because as much as I would like to be that person who doesn't take shit personally, I do.
If you couldn't tell, I'm having an insecure day. Here's hoping it won't turn into an insecure night. With my luck, however, it will.
Here's to being insecure about insecurities.
Recently someone asked me "What happened to the girl I knew?" The funny thing is, I'm still the girl that everyone knew; I actually haven't changed. There comes a point where you start to know someone better, and you realize that they might not be everything you cracked them up to be. But that doesn't mean that they have changed: you just become aware more of who they are, and everything that that means.
One thing about knowing me better is I'm ridiculously insecure. Who, me? Lawl. Yeah, I'm fantastic at putting up this front that I'm sarcastic and can take whatever and don't put up with bullshit. And it's true, I don't. But that doesn't mean I'm infalliable. It doesn't mean that I don't feel completely lame because I don't get a response or a laugh, or some other ridiculous reaction that shouldn't matter, but it does. Because as much as I would like to be that person who doesn't take shit personally, I do.
If you couldn't tell, I'm having an insecure day. Here's hoping it won't turn into an insecure night. With my luck, however, it will.
Here's to being insecure about insecurities.
People Who Suck
There are a lot of people who suck in this world. Without needing to say it, child molesters, terrorists, animal abusers pretty much top the list. But everyone knows that.
This list is for those of you who are minor offenders; these people are more annoying than an actual harm to society:
People Who Write Checks: If this applies to you, let me let you in on a little secret. There are these things called debit cards; they work like credit cards in the way that it takes money directly from your checking account. Sometimes you have to remember and enter that...oh what's that tricky little thing called...oh right, your PIN. But it works just the same. STOP WRITING CHECKS. They take up a shit load of time, are completely useless, and are plain annoying. The only thing worse than writing checks are people who put the amount and the name of the place in the ledger BEFORE EVEN WRITING THE BLOODY CHECK. This is just rude. So do all of us who have to ring you up and those of us in line behind you a favor: get a fucking debit card.
People Who Walk on the Left Side: This is America. As much as you may not like it, we do everything on the right: we drive, our escalators are on the right, WE WALK ON THE RIGHT. Stop walking on the left, and then when people don't move out of your way, you get mad. Eff that. In this instance, follow the crowd.
Slow Walkers in Public Places: This goes hand in hand with those who walk on the left. If you are in a public place, don't walk ONE MILE AN HOUR. Seriously. You take up the aisles and when people pass you, you give them dirty looks. We wouldn't pass you if you weren't going so damn slow!
People Who Use Cell Phones in Inappropriate Places: See prior blog about this one.
People Who Expect An Answer from "You know, that one song...": No. I do not know that one song. I know a lot of music, but I am not a lyric database that waits for you to come in and forget what song you're looking for. Especially if it's Country. When you come into my store, don't forget the main effing reason that you're here.
People Who Don't Say "Please" and "Thank You": It's common fucking courtesy. I don't even need to delve into my hatred of people who don't have manners.
People Who Slurp Their Food: Eat with your mouth closed. You aren't a pig slurping slop. Especially cereal. Soup I can slightly understand and forgive: it's hot and you don't want to burn your tongue. CEREAL ISN'T HOT. If you're slurping because you took too big of a bite, TAKE SMALLER BITES. Nails on chalkboard for me.
People Who Drive Slow on the Freeway: Take city streets if you don't want to go 70 MPH. Otherwise, get the hell out of everyone's way.
People Who Think Reading is Stupid: Simply put, reading isn't stupid. You are.
People Who Wear Too Much Cologne/Perfume/Body Spray/Other Random Smelly Body Stuff: Ok. I get it. You like your perfume. That's fantastic. That also, however, doesn't mean that EVERYONE ON THE PLANET WILL. One or two sprays will do it. Stop dousing yourself in it because people aren't going to think you smell good; they're going to think that you don't take regular showers, so have to bathe in good smelling chemicals.
Don't worry, more will be added to the list later.
This list is for those of you who are minor offenders; these people are more annoying than an actual harm to society:
People Who Write Checks: If this applies to you, let me let you in on a little secret. There are these things called debit cards; they work like credit cards in the way that it takes money directly from your checking account. Sometimes you have to remember and enter that...oh what's that tricky little thing called...oh right, your PIN. But it works just the same. STOP WRITING CHECKS. They take up a shit load of time, are completely useless, and are plain annoying. The only thing worse than writing checks are people who put the amount and the name of the place in the ledger BEFORE EVEN WRITING THE BLOODY CHECK. This is just rude. So do all of us who have to ring you up and those of us in line behind you a favor: get a fucking debit card.
People Who Walk on the Left Side: This is America. As much as you may not like it, we do everything on the right: we drive, our escalators are on the right, WE WALK ON THE RIGHT. Stop walking on the left, and then when people don't move out of your way, you get mad. Eff that. In this instance, follow the crowd.
Slow Walkers in Public Places: This goes hand in hand with those who walk on the left. If you are in a public place, don't walk ONE MILE AN HOUR. Seriously. You take up the aisles and when people pass you, you give them dirty looks. We wouldn't pass you if you weren't going so damn slow!
People Who Use Cell Phones in Inappropriate Places: See prior blog about this one.
People Who Expect An Answer from "You know, that one song...": No. I do not know that one song. I know a lot of music, but I am not a lyric database that waits for you to come in and forget what song you're looking for. Especially if it's Country. When you come into my store, don't forget the main effing reason that you're here.
People Who Don't Say "Please" and "Thank You": It's common fucking courtesy. I don't even need to delve into my hatred of people who don't have manners.
People Who Slurp Their Food: Eat with your mouth closed. You aren't a pig slurping slop. Especially cereal. Soup I can slightly understand and forgive: it's hot and you don't want to burn your tongue. CEREAL ISN'T HOT. If you're slurping because you took too big of a bite, TAKE SMALLER BITES. Nails on chalkboard for me.
People Who Drive Slow on the Freeway: Take city streets if you don't want to go 70 MPH. Otherwise, get the hell out of everyone's way.
People Who Think Reading is Stupid: Simply put, reading isn't stupid. You are.
People Who Wear Too Much Cologne/Perfume/Body Spray/Other Random Smelly Body Stuff: Ok. I get it. You like your perfume. That's fantastic. That also, however, doesn't mean that EVERYONE ON THE PLANET WILL. One or two sprays will do it. Stop dousing yourself in it because people aren't going to think you smell good; they're going to think that you don't take regular showers, so have to bathe in good smelling chemicals.
Don't worry, more will be added to the list later.
Two for the Price of One
This is going to be a two part blog. Oh boy.
It's that time of year again.
And every year I do this.
I freak myself out because school is out for a break (this time Summer) and I worry about what I'm going to do with myself. Which is ironic, because during school I complain non-stop about how I can't wait for Summer so I can relax.
The problem is that I don't know how to.
I don't know what to do with myself when I'm not writing something up, or prepping myself to read for my in class quizzes, or worrying about the paper that's due in a week. I don't know what to do with the time that I would have not been going out with friends because I have to do a work-school-work Tuesday. I don't know how to spend my time without feeling like a lazy ass and being totally unproductive.
I usually spend the first week or so cleaning: the bathroom, cleaning out my closet, or my car, or something, anything just to distract myself from the fact I don't have crazy responsibilities. Then I think about what I could do, and it just kind of...bores me. I could catch up on all the TV I missed....oh wait, I don't watch TV. I could read a lot, which I do, but I can't read all the time. I could travel, and I will be doing a bit of that, but I'm so broke it's not even funny; I'll barely afford the trip to Vegas in a month. It's just odd to me, from spending so much time worrying about school and work and juggling the two, to only having to spend 8 hours a day, 5 days a week actually being responsible.
And the best part? Once it's time for school to start, I freak myself out because I forget how to juggle work and school at the same time.
It's such a vicious cycle.
I'd hate to know now what's gonna happen when I graduate.
Ok, part two
So this might be very, very strange coming from me, and I kind of feel bad because I'm so new at this. It's only recently that I've picked you up, and I don't even know all the ins and outs of it. I used to say "psh it'll never happen, not me." but here I find myself unable to not express myself:
COME ON METS. REALLY? THIRD BASE? REALLY????
What the shit was that tonight? The amount of screw ups tonight even embarrassed me. Church, L2tag bases. The game would have been over and we would have won. Remember, last week, while playing the Braves, when Escobar underestimated you and you threw that crazy pitch and got him out? THAT, was fantastic. THIS, however, was the opposite. I am very disappointed in you; and you nearly gave my boyfriend a heart attack.
And Pagan and Beltran. Oooh...Pagan and Beltran. I don't even know what to say. That was almost comical, if it hadn't been so sad. I was actually expecting you guys to collide with each other; I probably would have at least laughed at that one. So you guys, L2call it and listen.
Finally, the throw that ended the game. Pingel totally called it. "They're gonna throw it over Castro's head." And what do you know? Reed throws it to Castro, Castro dives, and it goes right over him. *sigh* I don't even know what to tell you to l2do.
Oh Mets.
*sigh.*
It's that time of year again.
And every year I do this.
I freak myself out because school is out for a break (this time Summer) and I worry about what I'm going to do with myself. Which is ironic, because during school I complain non-stop about how I can't wait for Summer so I can relax.
The problem is that I don't know how to.
I don't know what to do with myself when I'm not writing something up, or prepping myself to read for my in class quizzes, or worrying about the paper that's due in a week. I don't know what to do with the time that I would have not been going out with friends because I have to do a work-school-work Tuesday. I don't know how to spend my time without feeling like a lazy ass and being totally unproductive.
I usually spend the first week or so cleaning: the bathroom, cleaning out my closet, or my car, or something, anything just to distract myself from the fact I don't have crazy responsibilities. Then I think about what I could do, and it just kind of...bores me. I could catch up on all the TV I missed....oh wait, I don't watch TV. I could read a lot, which I do, but I can't read all the time. I could travel, and I will be doing a bit of that, but I'm so broke it's not even funny; I'll barely afford the trip to Vegas in a month. It's just odd to me, from spending so much time worrying about school and work and juggling the two, to only having to spend 8 hours a day, 5 days a week actually being responsible.
And the best part? Once it's time for school to start, I freak myself out because I forget how to juggle work and school at the same time.
It's such a vicious cycle.
I'd hate to know now what's gonna happen when I graduate.
Ok, part two
So this might be very, very strange coming from me, and I kind of feel bad because I'm so new at this. It's only recently that I've picked you up, and I don't even know all the ins and outs of it. I used to say "psh it'll never happen, not me." but here I find myself unable to not express myself:
COME ON METS. REALLY? THIRD BASE? REALLY????
What the shit was that tonight? The amount of screw ups tonight even embarrassed me. Church, L2tag bases. The game would have been over and we would have won. Remember, last week, while playing the Braves, when Escobar underestimated you and you threw that crazy pitch and got him out? THAT, was fantastic. THIS, however, was the opposite. I am very disappointed in you; and you nearly gave my boyfriend a heart attack.
And Pagan and Beltran. Oooh...Pagan and Beltran. I don't even know what to say. That was almost comical, if it hadn't been so sad. I was actually expecting you guys to collide with each other; I probably would have at least laughed at that one. So you guys, L2call it and listen.
Finally, the throw that ended the game. Pingel totally called it. "They're gonna throw it over Castro's head." And what do you know? Reed throws it to Castro, Castro dives, and it goes right over him. *sigh* I don't even know what to tell you to l2do.
Oh Mets.
*sigh.*
Dreams
Let's face it, I'm a total night owl. I would rather be awake during the night than the day (except for maybe being able to go to the beach). I like the darkness, full moons, most aspects of it.
But not lately.
Lately I've been dreading them. Why? Because I just don't want to go to sleep. I don't want to fall asleep and have to dream. Dreams are supposed to be interesting, or silly, or fun, or dirty. But lately all I've been doing is having nightmares. Awful dreams about people dying, or getting fired at work, or my past mistakes coming back to haunt me. I wake up and want to vomit. It makes my stomach roll and my head hurt and makes me start the day sad.
I wish there was a way that I could just turn my subconscious off. I wish that I could tell it to stfu, because starting my days anxious and sad is becoming a routine that I just don't want to deal with. School is almost done, work is alright, my friends are awesome, my life is good.
So why does my subconscious hate me right now?
But not lately.
Lately I've been dreading them. Why? Because I just don't want to go to sleep. I don't want to fall asleep and have to dream. Dreams are supposed to be interesting, or silly, or fun, or dirty. But lately all I've been doing is having nightmares. Awful dreams about people dying, or getting fired at work, or my past mistakes coming back to haunt me. I wake up and want to vomit. It makes my stomach roll and my head hurt and makes me start the day sad.
I wish there was a way that I could just turn my subconscious off. I wish that I could tell it to stfu, because starting my days anxious and sad is becoming a routine that I just don't want to deal with. School is almost done, work is alright, my friends are awesome, my life is good.
So why does my subconscious hate me right now?
It's the Little Things
I woke up today after having slept for 4 1/2 hours. The entire night I kept having nightmares. I woke up anxious and sad, nearly crying for what I had dreamt.
I made some coffee, got online, and felt the anger boiling through my veins. I was so annoyed, and pissed off, and ready to murder the first person that talked to me; I was ready for this day to be full of unpleasantness.
Boy, oh boy, was I wrong.
Today ended up being one of the best days that I have had in....a very, very long time. It started by Andy sending me a link to a demotivational poster that made me laugh. He didn't have to, yet he chose to, just to try to make me feel better. It made me smile for the first time today.
I take a shower, and decide that I'm going to go to Santa Cruz. For those of you who know me, you know going to SC is my escape from the world; when I am upset, or want to think, or need to get away, it is always available and never lets me down. Stephanie urged me to go, telling me it would be a beautiful day and I would enjoy it. So I decided to take her advice.
I was getting ready to go. I was set on just grabbing my shit and leaving, and I get an IM from Pingel:
come over
please?
I thought about not going over. I was still in a mood, and was just going to close my laptop and pretend I never got it. But it was the "please" that got me. For some reason, the "please" just kind of tugged on my heart. I told him I would. And I'm glad I did. I'm not trying to brag, but my boyfriend gives the best hugs in the world. I didn't realize how badly I needed a hug until he wrapped his arms around me. From just a simple touch I felt a lot of the tension from the previous night just slip away.
We ended up watching baseball. Not my favorite thing to do, but it's enjoyable watching Pingel watch baseball. Just sitting on his bed, with him touching my hair, or talking to me, or whatever, just helped more that I am able to type on this blog. His silliness when it came to the Mets scoring made me laugh. We went to pho, which I heart hardcore. Jacque said that she would go to SC with me. By the time we got back to his place, my mood was improved dramatically.
Aptos with Jax was the clincher to what I needed today. I was surrounded by the ocean and with one of my best friends. We talked, and laughed, and she understood my frustrations from the night before, as she always, unwaveringly does. I love her more than I could say.
We took pictures; we pet every puppy that passed us; we picked flowers; we went to Capitola and browsed around the shops; we went to Margaritaville and she bought me a margarita and we munched on guacamole. Perfect.
I'm home now, but not for long. See, it's Wednesday, and we all know what that means: Saloooooooon night! The perfect closure to a fantastic day.
I love my friends and everything they do for me. Whether it's a link to a funny picture, a hug, or the understanding that sometimes you just need to get away, it seems whenever I need something, they always provide it. I try to surround myself with good people, and it is apparent, that I have succeeded at doing so.
Thank you.
I made some coffee, got online, and felt the anger boiling through my veins. I was so annoyed, and pissed off, and ready to murder the first person that talked to me; I was ready for this day to be full of unpleasantness.
Boy, oh boy, was I wrong.
Today ended up being one of the best days that I have had in....a very, very long time. It started by Andy sending me a link to a demotivational poster that made me laugh. He didn't have to, yet he chose to, just to try to make me feel better. It made me smile for the first time today.
I take a shower, and decide that I'm going to go to Santa Cruz. For those of you who know me, you know going to SC is my escape from the world; when I am upset, or want to think, or need to get away, it is always available and never lets me down. Stephanie urged me to go, telling me it would be a beautiful day and I would enjoy it. So I decided to take her advice.
I was getting ready to go. I was set on just grabbing my shit and leaving, and I get an IM from Pingel:
come over
please?
I thought about not going over. I was still in a mood, and was just going to close my laptop and pretend I never got it. But it was the "please" that got me. For some reason, the "please" just kind of tugged on my heart. I told him I would. And I'm glad I did. I'm not trying to brag, but my boyfriend gives the best hugs in the world. I didn't realize how badly I needed a hug until he wrapped his arms around me. From just a simple touch I felt a lot of the tension from the previous night just slip away.
We ended up watching baseball. Not my favorite thing to do, but it's enjoyable watching Pingel watch baseball. Just sitting on his bed, with him touching my hair, or talking to me, or whatever, just helped more that I am able to type on this blog. His silliness when it came to the Mets scoring made me laugh. We went to pho, which I heart hardcore. Jacque said that she would go to SC with me. By the time we got back to his place, my mood was improved dramatically.
Aptos with Jax was the clincher to what I needed today. I was surrounded by the ocean and with one of my best friends. We talked, and laughed, and she understood my frustrations from the night before, as she always, unwaveringly does. I love her more than I could say.
We took pictures; we pet every puppy that passed us; we picked flowers; we went to Capitola and browsed around the shops; we went to Margaritaville and she bought me a margarita and we munched on guacamole. Perfect.
I'm home now, but not for long. See, it's Wednesday, and we all know what that means: Saloooooooon night! The perfect closure to a fantastic day.
I love my friends and everything they do for me. Whether it's a link to a funny picture, a hug, or the understanding that sometimes you just need to get away, it seems whenever I need something, they always provide it. I try to surround myself with good people, and it is apparent, that I have succeeded at doing so.
Thank you.
Glad You're Not Mine
You, are a fucking tool.
I get you want to be “hip” with the employees, and you want them to like you. I’m not your fucking employee. I don’t give two shits what you think, what you have to say, or how cool you think you are. Don’t joke around with me by giving me shit. You don’t know me, so for the love of Christ stop acting like we are buddy buddy.
For your information, I’ve been doing our inventories for 8+ years. That’s a third of my life, jackass. I know what I’m doing, and the last thing I need is some newbie manager coming in and acting like he knows everything. I know how to do piece counts. I know how to do pre counts. I don’t need someone holding my hand the entire fucking time and acting like I don’t know what I’m doing.
You, are a complete tool, and I am so fucking glad you are not my boss.
I get you want to be “hip” with the employees, and you want them to like you. I’m not your fucking employee. I don’t give two shits what you think, what you have to say, or how cool you think you are. Don’t joke around with me by giving me shit. You don’t know me, so for the love of Christ stop acting like we are buddy buddy.
For your information, I’ve been doing our inventories for 8+ years. That’s a third of my life, jackass. I know what I’m doing, and the last thing I need is some newbie manager coming in and acting like he knows everything. I know how to do piece counts. I know how to do pre counts. I don’t need someone holding my hand the entire fucking time and acting like I don’t know what I’m doing.
You, are a complete tool, and I am so fucking glad you are not my boss.
The End of Nervousness
I've stopped being nervous now.
When it started, I was kind of a mess. Was it real, or was it just something that seemed easy, so why not do it? And that's the thing: it seemed so easy. So easy to slip into, so easy to do. So of course I questioned it. I mean, it was completely different from what I had ever experienced. At least when it came to this. There was usually a lot more interaction, a lot more talking, a lot more...just more. Not really saying it's a bad thing, just different. Different in a way that I was really not used to in the slightest. So it took some adjusting, and anyone who knows me knows that my adjusting means being nervous, not eating, trouble sleeping, etc.
But I'm not nervous anymore.
I don't worry about it not being what I'm used to anymore: it is what it is, and I've accepted it. I've accepted the fact that while it might not be common for me, that doesn't mean that it isn't the same. That because it's shyer or less....intense, for lack of a better word, doesn't mean it's not as important to both.
So I've relaxed, and am just taking it in stride. And I'm happy with that.
When it started, I was kind of a mess. Was it real, or was it just something that seemed easy, so why not do it? And that's the thing: it seemed so easy. So easy to slip into, so easy to do. So of course I questioned it. I mean, it was completely different from what I had ever experienced. At least when it came to this. There was usually a lot more interaction, a lot more talking, a lot more...just more. Not really saying it's a bad thing, just different. Different in a way that I was really not used to in the slightest. So it took some adjusting, and anyone who knows me knows that my adjusting means being nervous, not eating, trouble sleeping, etc.
But I'm not nervous anymore.
I don't worry about it not being what I'm used to anymore: it is what it is, and I've accepted it. I've accepted the fact that while it might not be common for me, that doesn't mean that it isn't the same. That because it's shyer or less....intense, for lack of a better word, doesn't mean it's not as important to both.
So I've relaxed, and am just taking it in stride. And I'm happy with that.
Slightly Fucked Up
You know when you have so much that you want to say, yet you don't actually know where to even begin? That's pretty much where I'm at right now. It might be the fact that I'm running on 3 1/2 hours of sleep and a shitload of caffeine, or I'm just super stressed, or whatever, but no matter what it is, it's like my brain has shut itself off and refuses to start again (reminds me of my second car).
I'm sitting in the hospital waiting room; my grandfather is having a pacemaker put into his body. My grandmother and a family friend are sitting next to me, my Nana doing a crossword, the friend, Glenna, watching some mundane cooking show. The surgeon said there's a 98% chance everything will be fine. There's still that 2% that he won't. The only thing that I can think is how tired I am.
For this reason and other reasons I feel like I'm slightly fucked up. My grandparents have been married for 60 years. 60 years. That's a shit long time. There's a chance that my grandma will lose her partner of the last 60 years today, in a heartbeat, no pun intended. See? Fucked up.
Glenna is talking to me, well, more talking at me. She's asking the typical questions that you ask someone who you haven't seen in a while but don't know very well: How's school? Are you still working? How's your mom and brother? Fine, almost done. Yeah still at the bookstore. Both working, a lot. I don't find myself caring whether she talks to me again for the rest of the time that I am down here. Or ever, for that matter. She's a liar, and likes to act like she is the sweetest thing on this earth, and no one cares more about things than she does. The best thing she's ever done in her life is hit my dad with her car.
Of course I care about my grandfather. Of course I want him to live for a long time. Of course I want my Nana to be happy and not have to worry. I know these things. It's just....difficult. When my grandparents die, I am cutting off all communication with my father and his side of the family. Why don't I do it now? Because I love my grandparents. They are good people, and the last thing I get to do is cause drama in their life by telling their son to fuck off and stop talking to everyone on this side. So here's another part of me that's fucked up: would it be so bad if he died?
I don't think I've ever written "fucked" so many times in a story. Well, it's kind of fitting now.
I'm sitting in the hospital waiting room; my grandfather is having a pacemaker put into his body. My grandmother and a family friend are sitting next to me, my Nana doing a crossword, the friend, Glenna, watching some mundane cooking show. The surgeon said there's a 98% chance everything will be fine. There's still that 2% that he won't. The only thing that I can think is how tired I am.
For this reason and other reasons I feel like I'm slightly fucked up. My grandparents have been married for 60 years. 60 years. That's a shit long time. There's a chance that my grandma will lose her partner of the last 60 years today, in a heartbeat, no pun intended. See? Fucked up.
Glenna is talking to me, well, more talking at me. She's asking the typical questions that you ask someone who you haven't seen in a while but don't know very well: How's school? Are you still working? How's your mom and brother? Fine, almost done. Yeah still at the bookstore. Both working, a lot. I don't find myself caring whether she talks to me again for the rest of the time that I am down here. Or ever, for that matter. She's a liar, and likes to act like she is the sweetest thing on this earth, and no one cares more about things than she does. The best thing she's ever done in her life is hit my dad with her car.
Of course I care about my grandfather. Of course I want him to live for a long time. Of course I want my Nana to be happy and not have to worry. I know these things. It's just....difficult. When my grandparents die, I am cutting off all communication with my father and his side of the family. Why don't I do it now? Because I love my grandparents. They are good people, and the last thing I get to do is cause drama in their life by telling their son to fuck off and stop talking to everyone on this side. So here's another part of me that's fucked up: would it be so bad if he died?
I don't think I've ever written "fucked" so many times in a story. Well, it's kind of fitting now.
Bittersweet
Sometimes when couples have a kid, the kid comes out less than perfect. Sometimes they come out physically deformed, sometimes mentally. When a parent hears that their child isn't going to be "normal" they probably go through a wide range of emotions: anger, sadness, fear for their life and the life of their child. While they are not likely to love them any less, it can still be a burden. Working in retail I see several parents coming through with mentally handicapped children, and understandable it can be difficult to be out in public with them. I've seen parents yell, and be frustrated, and kind of be dicks about it. It's not like your child chose to be handicapped. Basically it sucks for all parties. We the employees don't know how to relate to it; the parents are embarrassed; the kids are frustrated. Lame.
However, sometimes you see truly beautiful things where it seems there is only ugliness.
Every Saturday morning, without fail, a father and his son come into the store. The son is probably 16-17, and very autistic. Every Saturday this child goes to the children's DVDs and picks out 4-5 different DVDs. However, every Saturday this kid picks out the same DVDs. Fox and the Hound, Pixar Short Films, a couple Sesame Street DVDs. Same DVDs, every time (occasionally he'll pick out a couple new ones). And the DVDs that we sell aren't cheap. They are usually at least $25, the ones that he picks out. End totals are usually close to $150, every week. You would think this would get old, and expensive, and the father would try to put an end to it, right?
Wrong.
I have never heard the father complain about purchasing the same DVDs, and only once did I hear him complain about the cost (which was near $400). When he and his son come into the section he never bitches, never acts like this isn't anything but normal, never becomes tense or angry or agitated. His son knows what he wants, and he goes and gets it. Sometimes he takes a bit longer than usual, but even then the father isn't' a jerk about it.
One time I had put all the DVDs in a bag, but apparently in the wrong order. The son had an issue with this, went and picked out 3 more of the same titles, and the father bought those as well. I was confused as to why he wanted 3 more of them, and the father, instead of being annoyed, simply told me that they were in the wrong order, and showed me how his son had originally had them. He didn't get frustrated because I didn't understand how his son worked: he simply showed me how to work with him.
The interactions between this pair are something to speak about too. The father is constantly talking to his son, and not treating him like a burden. I've never once seen the son throw a fit, or be uncomfortable, or anything that you often see with the mentally handicapped. The father always stays calm, and I think this reflects onto the son. The father is very soft spoken, and...well I could go on and on about the father, but it would just be repetitive.
I have never seen a pair like these two. The amount that this father loves his son is apparent in his interactions with him, and even with me. They come in every Saturday around 11:30-11:45, and I find myself refusing to take my lunch until I know they have been in the store. When the son comes up with the DVDs, the father always greets me and asks me how I am doing, and not in that "I'm a creepy old man and I'm going to hit on the young female cashier." He genuinely seems interested in how I'm doing. I find myself, while ringing up the DVDs, making sure that I put them in exactly the order that the son brought them up to me in. I wouldn't have done this without the dad being able to calmly tell me how to make it easier all around.
I wish that all parents with disabled children were able to love their child and be as patient with them as this man is with his own. After interacting with this man and his son, it offers you a little bit of reassurance that there are patient, good people in this world, and while they are blessed to have the children they do, the children are blessed as well.
However, sometimes you see truly beautiful things where it seems there is only ugliness.
Every Saturday morning, without fail, a father and his son come into the store. The son is probably 16-17, and very autistic. Every Saturday this child goes to the children's DVDs and picks out 4-5 different DVDs. However, every Saturday this kid picks out the same DVDs. Fox and the Hound, Pixar Short Films, a couple Sesame Street DVDs. Same DVDs, every time (occasionally he'll pick out a couple new ones). And the DVDs that we sell aren't cheap. They are usually at least $25, the ones that he picks out. End totals are usually close to $150, every week. You would think this would get old, and expensive, and the father would try to put an end to it, right?
Wrong.
I have never heard the father complain about purchasing the same DVDs, and only once did I hear him complain about the cost (which was near $400). When he and his son come into the section he never bitches, never acts like this isn't anything but normal, never becomes tense or angry or agitated. His son knows what he wants, and he goes and gets it. Sometimes he takes a bit longer than usual, but even then the father isn't' a jerk about it.
One time I had put all the DVDs in a bag, but apparently in the wrong order. The son had an issue with this, went and picked out 3 more of the same titles, and the father bought those as well. I was confused as to why he wanted 3 more of them, and the father, instead of being annoyed, simply told me that they were in the wrong order, and showed me how his son had originally had them. He didn't get frustrated because I didn't understand how his son worked: he simply showed me how to work with him.
The interactions between this pair are something to speak about too. The father is constantly talking to his son, and not treating him like a burden. I've never once seen the son throw a fit, or be uncomfortable, or anything that you often see with the mentally handicapped. The father always stays calm, and I think this reflects onto the son. The father is very soft spoken, and...well I could go on and on about the father, but it would just be repetitive.
I have never seen a pair like these two. The amount that this father loves his son is apparent in his interactions with him, and even with me. They come in every Saturday around 11:30-11:45, and I find myself refusing to take my lunch until I know they have been in the store. When the son comes up with the DVDs, the father always greets me and asks me how I am doing, and not in that "I'm a creepy old man and I'm going to hit on the young female cashier." He genuinely seems interested in how I'm doing. I find myself, while ringing up the DVDs, making sure that I put them in exactly the order that the son brought them up to me in. I wouldn't have done this without the dad being able to calmly tell me how to make it easier all around.
I wish that all parents with disabled children were able to love their child and be as patient with them as this man is with his own. After interacting with this man and his son, it offers you a little bit of reassurance that there are patient, good people in this world, and while they are blessed to have the children they do, the children are blessed as well.
Intolerance is Intolerance, No Matter the Flavor
This post will piss some people off. Probably a lot of people. However, I am past the point of caring.
Intolerance is intolerance, no matter what flavor you want to call it.
If there is one thing I can't stand in this world, it's religious bigots. I hate you. You sit there and are unaccepting of different ways of life, and you are prejudice for people worshipping the same god in a different way, and you don't realize that just because it's different doesn't mean it's wrong.
However, I hate people who are intolerant of religious people just as much.
I get it. I really do. Jihad, the crusades, the holocaust, it was all based on religion (well, the Holocaust more on political reasons, religion was just an excuse) reasons. However, not all religion is bad. In fact, it's not religion that is bad, it's the extremes that people go to to justify their actions, using religion as an excuse, making it "okay."
I get it. I do.
Yet at the same time, just because someone goes to church, doesn't mean they are this religious fanatic that thinks that gays are all evil and blacks should be lynched. Just because they are religous doesn't mean they think that change is unwelcome and that things that don't directly relate to God are evil. I know plenty of peopl who are religious, and they don't in any way, push their beliefs onto me, or try to convert me, or change me, or whatever.
It is completely fucked up for religious fanatics to blame the state of the world on those who don't recognize God, or Buddha, or Allah, or whatever you want to call it. Yet it is just as fucked up to blame the problems of the world on those who ARE religious.
I'm not really a religious person; when I have a child I will probably baptize them Catholic just because it's a family thing, but whatever, it's tradition (which is another rant for another time.). I do, however, believe there is something greater out there than ourselves. Which is my god given right, no pun intended. As long as someone is not physically harming someone else, what right do you have to persecute them, just because you decide to be an Atheist? It's the same as saying "you belive in the same god, but pray on one knee instead of two, so you are an evil person." Bullshit.
My point is this: if you are so intolerant of religous bigots, I agree with you. I think it's bullshit. But don't make yourself a hypocrite and say that anyone who believes in religion is stupid, dumb, or a fucktard. Because the reality is, we DON'T know what's out there, or who is "right" or "wrong."
My name is Nessa, I'm not really religous, and I approve this message.
Intolerance is intolerance, no matter what flavor you want to call it.
If there is one thing I can't stand in this world, it's religious bigots. I hate you. You sit there and are unaccepting of different ways of life, and you are prejudice for people worshipping the same god in a different way, and you don't realize that just because it's different doesn't mean it's wrong.
However, I hate people who are intolerant of religious people just as much.
I get it. I really do. Jihad, the crusades, the holocaust, it was all based on religion (well, the Holocaust more on political reasons, religion was just an excuse) reasons. However, not all religion is bad. In fact, it's not religion that is bad, it's the extremes that people go to to justify their actions, using religion as an excuse, making it "okay."
I get it. I do.
Yet at the same time, just because someone goes to church, doesn't mean they are this religious fanatic that thinks that gays are all evil and blacks should be lynched. Just because they are religous doesn't mean they think that change is unwelcome and that things that don't directly relate to God are evil. I know plenty of peopl who are religious, and they don't in any way, push their beliefs onto me, or try to convert me, or change me, or whatever.
It is completely fucked up for religious fanatics to blame the state of the world on those who don't recognize God, or Buddha, or Allah, or whatever you want to call it. Yet it is just as fucked up to blame the problems of the world on those who ARE religious.
I'm not really a religious person; when I have a child I will probably baptize them Catholic just because it's a family thing, but whatever, it's tradition (which is another rant for another time.). I do, however, believe there is something greater out there than ourselves. Which is my god given right, no pun intended. As long as someone is not physically harming someone else, what right do you have to persecute them, just because you decide to be an Atheist? It's the same as saying "you belive in the same god, but pray on one knee instead of two, so you are an evil person." Bullshit.
My point is this: if you are so intolerant of religous bigots, I agree with you. I think it's bullshit. But don't make yourself a hypocrite and say that anyone who believes in religion is stupid, dumb, or a fucktard. Because the reality is, we DON'T know what's out there, or who is "right" or "wrong."
My name is Nessa, I'm not really religous, and I approve this message.
Bullshitting Me = Bullshit.
I hate being bullshitted.
I hate being looked in the eye, and told a flat out lie. I hate when someone is so callous that they think that they can get away with telling me something that is false.
This includes compliments and flattery.
I don't want to hear it if you don't mean it. Don't even tell me that I'm beautiful after walking a mile and a half in the heat, arriving at your friend apartment sweaty and gross, and knowing I've looked better. Don't sit there and tell me that I'm awesome 50 times a day. It's bullshit, and I hate it, and I'm not stupid enough to fall for it.
When I was growing up, I was raised that you need to be honest, and don't lie to people. This includes complimenting someone. I was never complimented just because I was a child and "should be complimented." I was complimented if I earned it. And I completely agree with this. I don't want to be told that I'm good at something if I am terrible at it and need improvement. I don't want you to sit there and tell me that I'm awesome if I just pulled a bitch ass move. It does not endear you to me; it does not make me want to love you more; it makes me angry. I am not a weak ass female that needs to be told 100 times a day that I'm fantastic. Because you know what? I'm not fantastic. There is nothing fantastic about me. I am who I am, and it's nothing special, and I am completely aware of this, and I just don't fucking care.
So take your compliments, and your bullshit, and your ideas that telling me something untrue will get you something good, and shove it up your ass.
I hate being looked in the eye, and told a flat out lie. I hate when someone is so callous that they think that they can get away with telling me something that is false.
This includes compliments and flattery.
I don't want to hear it if you don't mean it. Don't even tell me that I'm beautiful after walking a mile and a half in the heat, arriving at your friend apartment sweaty and gross, and knowing I've looked better. Don't sit there and tell me that I'm awesome 50 times a day. It's bullshit, and I hate it, and I'm not stupid enough to fall for it.
When I was growing up, I was raised that you need to be honest, and don't lie to people. This includes complimenting someone. I was never complimented just because I was a child and "should be complimented." I was complimented if I earned it. And I completely agree with this. I don't want to be told that I'm good at something if I am terrible at it and need improvement. I don't want you to sit there and tell me that I'm awesome if I just pulled a bitch ass move. It does not endear you to me; it does not make me want to love you more; it makes me angry. I am not a weak ass female that needs to be told 100 times a day that I'm fantastic. Because you know what? I'm not fantastic. There is nothing fantastic about me. I am who I am, and it's nothing special, and I am completely aware of this, and I just don't fucking care.
So take your compliments, and your bullshit, and your ideas that telling me something untrue will get you something good, and shove it up your ass.
Screw G.E.
When it comes to school, I enjoy it. Mostly.
However, there are some things that I absolutely hate. Like math.
I am an English major. When the hell am I EVER going to have to know the quadratic formula?!?!??! (which is -b+/- the square root of b squared - 4ac all over 2a. I know this by heart. This disturbs me greatly.) Would you like to know WHY I know this by heart? Because I have taken this stupid algebra class five times. F I V E T I M E S. And the shitty thing is it’s a stupid pre-req. It doesn’t even really count. I get to take another math class after this.
When it comes to English, or history, or science, or art, or whatever, I do well. It’s enjoyable, and I don’t mind sitting through the classes. However, I don’t care, I literally do not care, except to the extent that it makes me angry, about math. I know how to add. I know how to do percentages. I know how to do the basic every day arithmetic problems that I will need to know how to do for the rest of my life. I will never need to know the square root of 596038420934. I will never need to know how to find the angle of a triangle when it’s submerged in water on a -750 axis, or whatever. So fuck you.
I might be slightly angry because I just don’t get it. But why the hell do I have to? If someone is going to be an engineer, they should have to know how to write basic proposals, and that’s fine. But they shouldn’t have to go through extensive English and history classes just to meet GE requirements.
It will never come in handy.
So to the genius that decided that we all needed to be well rounded in a society where being a renaissance person is no longer considered important, I have to words for you:
Bite me.
However, there are some things that I absolutely hate. Like math.
I am an English major. When the hell am I EVER going to have to know the quadratic formula?!?!??! (which is -b+/- the square root of b squared - 4ac all over 2a. I know this by heart. This disturbs me greatly.) Would you like to know WHY I know this by heart? Because I have taken this stupid algebra class five times. F I V E T I M E S. And the shitty thing is it’s a stupid pre-req. It doesn’t even really count. I get to take another math class after this.
When it comes to English, or history, or science, or art, or whatever, I do well. It’s enjoyable, and I don’t mind sitting through the classes. However, I don’t care, I literally do not care, except to the extent that it makes me angry, about math. I know how to add. I know how to do percentages. I know how to do the basic every day arithmetic problems that I will need to know how to do for the rest of my life. I will never need to know the square root of 596038420934. I will never need to know how to find the angle of a triangle when it’s submerged in water on a -750 axis, or whatever. So fuck you.
I might be slightly angry because I just don’t get it. But why the hell do I have to? If someone is going to be an engineer, they should have to know how to write basic proposals, and that’s fine. But they shouldn’t have to go through extensive English and history classes just to meet GE requirements.
It will never come in handy.
So to the genius that decided that we all needed to be well rounded in a society where being a renaissance person is no longer considered important, I have to words for you:
Bite me.
Cell Phones
Get off your cell phones when you come to the register.
I don’t care if it’s important call; I am going to mock you endlessly to my friends should you come up and chat on the phone while I am ringing you up. I’ll ask you all the mandatory questions: Do you have a membership card? Would you like to give us your email? Debit or credit? Do you want a bag? If you are rude enough to not consider me a person that you should interact with so you don’t get tackled walking out of the store with product, then I am sure as hell rude enough to interrupt your stupid ass conversation about the CUUUUUUUUUTEST Coach bag that you found on sale at the mall! Like oh my gawd!
Also, stop talking on the phone while you’re in the bathroom. No one wants to hear your conversation while you’re on the pot, and I’m sure the people on the other end don’t want to hear it either.
So people, have some common fucking sense when it comes to using your cell phones.
I don’t care if it’s important call; I am going to mock you endlessly to my friends should you come up and chat on the phone while I am ringing you up. I’ll ask you all the mandatory questions: Do you have a membership card? Would you like to give us your email? Debit or credit? Do you want a bag? If you are rude enough to not consider me a person that you should interact with so you don’t get tackled walking out of the store with product, then I am sure as hell rude enough to interrupt your stupid ass conversation about the CUUUUUUUUUTEST Coach bag that you found on sale at the mall! Like oh my gawd!
Also, stop talking on the phone while you’re in the bathroom. No one wants to hear your conversation while you’re on the pot, and I’m sure the people on the other end don’t want to hear it either.
So people, have some common fucking sense when it comes to using your cell phones.
Starting Over
I've decided to redo my blog.
I'm taking select posts from my previous one and posting them there. The ones I had before were alright, but I'm older now, and while you can't escape your past, I'm not really that person anymore.
So I'm starting over.
That's a good thing, right?
I'm taking select posts from my previous one and posting them there. The ones I had before were alright, but I'm older now, and while you can't escape your past, I'm not really that person anymore.
So I'm starting over.
That's a good thing, right?
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