how weak

I quit my job.  Well, gave the two weeks notice.  How nice for business here in the United States that we have to give them notice we’re leaving, but at any point the worker can be told to clean out their desk out by some dingus half-a-tax-bracket above them.

Either way, I look forward to being unemployed again.  Everyday I was getting closer and closer to either an aneurysm or a spree killing.  Little from column A, little from column B.

I just want to sleep for weeks after this, and completely, totally withdraw from having to interact with people.   The idea of spending an entire day without being obligated to speak to someone is getting me HIGHA N HIIIGHA

I would be so adaptable for hermit life.

The Prince song known as “Anna Stesia” is great, until the last part where it starts to be about God, I guess.  Such a strange transmogrification, it starts off with me interpreting it as like, sexy, right?  Loneliness, “”"night-time”"”", hints of ”””’unnatural sexuality”””’, but then there is a brief breakdown about ‘learnin how to love the right way’ where I’m still like, oh yeah, this is totally about doing it but maybe with like, affection which is unlike prince’s character in this song in general….BUT THEN
all boys and girls love god
all boys and girls love god
all boys and girls love god
I’M WILD 4 JESUS

I got no specific beef with Prince, I think his juxtaposition of religious imagery vs. seXxXxxystuff is interesting, but this song just makes it a little too closely linked.  I guess maybe the girl, Anna Stesia, is supposed to be some sort of Witness who pretends to be about to do him and then starts going on about Jesus?  That I can buy.

Then again, anyone could.

HEYOOOOOOOOAHHHH

man i am obsessing over napping right now, and just doing whatever without having to look in to the cold, dead sow-eyes of my fellow hoosiers

quittin work
loungin it
lets do this
~~

im starting a juggalo band SO SHUT UP

I’m a man with a plan buildin canals all day
I’m a crazy dog eatin sandwiches out of the trash bay
I’m a tiny mouse walkin around on a silver tray
at a fancy buffet
HEY
you know what i’d say
to see such a thing in the U.S.A
give that mouse a sandwich make his day less gray
HEY
We’re the literary reference to a novel we probably never read clan~
i am William Faulkner
AKA the big Willy 2 Fuckner
OH SO YOU’VE HEARD
WORD IS THE FURY SOUND IS THE WORD
FURY IS THE SOUND I’M DOWN WITH THE CLO-O-OWN

that went in a few directions all of which im incredibly pleased with GET ME DOCTOR DRE ON THE HORN, PICKLES

remind me

to never, ever, ever, ever read youtube comments.  ever.

even on the most innocuous videos.

my heart will stop, my hands will shake, and i will do nothing the rest of the night but write fifty versions of the same response that will translate best into a primal scream in the middle of a murky swamp, surrounded by goblins.

I’ve been so calm lately, I’ve just been staying away as well I can from politics.  People tell me all the time, well, people in Europe are racist, stupid, and _____ as well.  I do believe all that, I do, I’m not that naive.  Of course not every idiot soccer hooligan in the UK has some studied opinion about immigration, I don’t expect him to.  I don’t expect our racing fan drunks to, either.

The main thing that separates our drooling classes is this: anti-intellectualism.

Overseas, there isn’t some grand movement to be proud of not being all that ‘book smart’.  None that I’m aware of, at least.  Granted, I’m not nearly as entrenched in European politics as I am United States’ politics and politicians, but the way I see it, someone as pointedly reveling in their ignorance as Sarah Palin, Bobby Jindal, or Mike Huckabee would be an absolute joke anywhere else…well, anywhere else in a first-world nation as we are.  Do you think actually believing you performed an exorcism in college, and then TALKING about it publicly, would fly in the UK?  France?  Denmark?  Japan?  Okay, maybe Japan.  They’d probably just think it was hot, and have a comic worked up the next day of Bobby Jindal with massive tits having sex with a demon as the plot.

Why do we collectively have such a hard-on for country ‘wisdom’, platitudes, and the most basal sort of “common sense”?  I’m not interested in the common thoughts of common people, because get this; smart people can think them as well, AND they can expand upon them with further thought.  Now I am no genius, but I’m smarter than the most average of the average, and I accept that people smarter than me get to make decisions, and have more power–especially in specific fields.  I want my doctor more educated than me about medical issues, I want my lawyer smarter than me when it comes to legal matters, and I want my representatives smarter than me when it comes to pretty much everything.  I want them to be more thoughtful, more studied, more rational.  Certainly not the same as me, and certainly not less.  I don’t get all blustery about someone being unashamedly smarter than me.  Hell, I am a huge fan of Christopher Hitchens, and he is the most elitist, better-than-you seeming dick alive.  I accept egos, as long as they have a reason to exist.  If you are smarter than me, feel free to know it.

I have respect for quite a few conservatives and Republicans of the past.   George Will (smarter than me, except when he is arguing against ‘blue jeans’), Pat Buchanan (if you can believe it), Eisenhower I’m a big fan of, the first George Bush did an alright job with a few things, none of them fucked up too badly during the Cold War (although the rewriting of history to suggest that Reagan single-handedly ended it irritates me quite a bit, he certainly did help the process of Russia’s progression along), and really…up until Bush, they at least didn’t seem to mind allowing debate, and just general cleverness within their ranks.  It isn’t their party, it isn’t their political ideology, it is who they’ve had to get swooning for them over the years.

I couldn’t identify exactly when it begun, but I’d say sometime in the late 80s and early 90s, you know, back in those fatted Clinton years where people had a lot of free time and minor things they could quibble over, when the evangelical movement really became relevant, and ‘hit the scene’.  Pat Robertson, Jerry Falwell, James Dobson…after they became popular among the…people who buy that shit, they were courted, in part, by both parties.  The Republicans won out in the end, given that the Democrats only engaged on a very weak and very misguided “wah wah ban violent video games wah wah RAP MUSIC!!!” level.  The Republicans were willing to go all the way with them.  Abortion?  Murder!  Homos?  Worse than abortion!

Of course, had anyone at that time actually cracked open the New Testament and skimmed the Sermon on the Mount, I think we’d currently have legislation banning divorce, since that was his real big deal at the time.  Also, evangelicals would own nothing, and never proselytize.  They’d also be concerned with the conditions of the absolute dregs of society, like prisoners.  You know, the ones who’s state-controlled murders they don’t care about?  Kill something that is arguably not alive, Heaven forbid.  Kill something that you could not deny the humanity of, well, as long as it is during a war or they have been charged guilty of a crime, go right ahead.

Instead, easy targets were lined up in the crosshairs.  I will go off on a tangeant about this, but rest assured that I think the actual teachings and philosophy of Jesus had a beautiful (if sometimes disagreeable to me, personally) message, but it has been completely mistranslated by large swaths of believers.  The ones that do get it, really get it, don’t have much of a voice.  I mean, who is asking the opinion of some monk who has no worldly possessions and lives in the middle of a barren desert his opinion on gay marriage?  Instead, we’ll take the word of a man with capped teeth, a gold-and-diamond-encrusted crucifix swaying overtop his Armani suit, and a pomade-soaked hairdo what he thinks about gays in the military.

He is truly the arbiter of Christ, and the abattoir of modern values, right?

Even though the monk would probably agree with the evangelical, at least his opinion would have some …meat.  He would actually be living it, fully living it.  Really, to me, it doesn’t matter what opinion is held by a religious group or person.  It really shouldn’t matter in terms of government policy, either.  If the only justification you feel your argument needs can be found in the pages of a book that not everyone agrees is proof of some sort of higher source of judgment, than you have no justification at all, really.  Being a person with no faith means I don’t have to get nervous every time someone says “God is Pro-Life”, it means nothing to me.   It would be like if I went around always saying, “Gorgons are Pro-Choice”, and thinking that it just ended whatever argument could’ve been made against me.

Anyway, they got that “base” all riled up over the years, talking about outlawing abortion, privisos in the constitution concerning gay marriage, and just over-all made a point of acting like America was a nation strictly made up of fundamentalist Christians.  They curried the votes, they got their man in, that man being Bush the 2nd.

And what came from it for the Evangelicals?  A couple namedrops here, a few deferences to Jesus there, degradation of the privacy rights of the citizenry at large, lapsed intelligence that resulted massive attack on American soil (because at that time our intelligence agencies were trying to crackdown on brothels, so I suppose they did almost get that), and a war or two.

Nothing about abortion.
Nothing about gay marriage.
Nothing they wanted.
Bush turned out not to be their man, but another base’s man entirely.  That base being the neo-conservative movement, which since it’s inception has been absolutely OBSESSED with the Middle East.  From Israel to Iraq, they wanted footholds, and they wanted them bad.  They got what they wanted, business got what it wanted, but what of the “real, red-blooded Christian Americans” who came out in droves to vote for Bush?
They were disillusioned, the ones clever enough to see through the ruse.

So, they’ve been looking for someone to really do it, do all the little things they’ve waited so long to see happen.

Palin and Huckabee represent this group entirely, and they’re hanging their hats on them completely.  I don’t think they really know how small and self-limiting their tent really is…the “”"base”"”" of the Republican party, that is.   You must meet all these qualifications:
-Christian
-Red Blooded
-Not Gay
-Think Abortion is Murder, seriously, Murder.  Not even just an ethical question of, “gee, when is a zygote really alive…maybe when it can survive out of the womb, you shouldn’t be able to abort it because that is just sort of unsavory” That I can buy, that I could live with.  Sustainability, well okay, we can give that some real argument–but third trimester abortions are already more or less unheard of.  No, you’ve got to think it is murder, always, murder–because someone interpreted some biblical quote to say that God gave you ‘life’ the second you were …thought of, more or less.
-A big fan of war.
-A massive fan of guns, and by extension, the Constitution and other ‘founding documents’ of the US.  Not the parts about civil liberties or seperation of Church and State, though.  Just the part about the guns.  Definitely don’t address the fact that most of our founding fathers were fairly progressive men for their time, especially with regards to religion.   The whole ‘Deist’ thing was more or less an early beard for Agnostic, or otherwise suspicious of traditional monotheism.
-Ejaculate on command when freedom, ‘the troops’, or 9/11 is mentioned.
-Be from “Real America” and resent the coasts and the ‘elites’ within them.
-Don’t think too hard, just go with your gut.  If you do think, don’t talk about it, you elitist prick.

I hope the Republican Party makes a recovery, really, I do.   We need to have two parties, at least, in this country.  We can’t just have the Democratic Party and then some Southern, Jesus-Based Novelty Party which consistently garners a strong 30 percent.

Now, if the absolute mad-dogs of the Evangelical movement want to split off and make their own party, go ahead. Carrie Nation that shit up, guys.  See how far you go.   Let the real political ideologies battle it out. You’d be an interesting footnote in a chapter about turn-of-the-millennium America because, no matter how long you stand in front of it and whine, you can’t stop a torrent, and you can’t stop progress.

If you could, it wouldn’t really be progress–it would be a quick blip as well.

Look around you, just look at the world outside of this country.  Look where they are.  Do you think their populations are all looking towards us, pining away for what we have, and moreso, what you want us to become?  I can tell you there really isn’t any large movement in country’s that have a public option for healthcare to go back to the privately-held American system–of that you can be sure.  Reforms, absolutely, as it isn’t a perfect system…but no one wants to trade government “bureaucrats” that they can vote out of office if they disagree with back for unknown insurance company’s bureaucrats who exist only to make money and have no real reason to give a shit whether you like what they’re doing or not, because you have  absolutely NO control over their fates or their power.  You can’t vote for a new insurance policy over at Anthem or Blue Cross, you can’t vote to have the CEO ousted in favor of a guy more likely to insure you or charge less.

Besides, I think nothing about Jesus is more obvious than the fact that he thought everyone should be given the chance to be healed.  Really, that was one of his big deals.  Along with giving up all material goods, eating pork, and giving a shit about poor people.

Your cause is a self-defeating cause, what you work to slow is inevitable.

I don’t know how it feels, maybe someday the youth of tomorrow will be all for something I just think is ridiculous.  It could happen, like, if in the year 2058 people start worshiping figurines of Be-tittied Bobby Jindals from Japan, and carrying hand-held robots that whip them on command, then maybe I will think things have gone too far.

maybe!

or maybe i will totally be okay with that.  I guess you never know.

Alls I’m saying is, let the right one in during the 2012 primary.  The part of me that just wants to continue to see Democrats dominate the political landscape says make it Palin, make it so.

The part of me that actually wants to see this country succeed in the long-term, and wants to see people really start moving away from the crazier aspects of militant right-wingers says, make it…whoever is currently in the party who isn’t a crackpot, and who is a contender for 2012.  There are a few, they just aren’t sexy enough to hear about.  It is better for a country to have two distinct parties with the chance to maintain power, not just a small group of vocal crazies, a small group of unheard from reasonable conservatives, a smaller group of actual liberal politicians, and a large group of “centrists” who just shuffle around and wait for a lobbyist to tell them how to vote.

So many little things, I don’t know where it begins.  That Evangelical thing is on the outs, though, and that is a very good sign.  Debate can be had across the political spectrum, but not if one party insists that invoking God will end all discussion.

If you want to know my ultimate end-game, my big fantasy for government, it is this: Robots.  I want robots, programmed to make the most reasonable and rational decisions, to lead our nations.   If they turn on us, so be it.  They came to that conclusion using their more powerful robominds, so it had to be the right one for the future of mankind.  Which is what they’d be programmed to protect.  They will all be designed in the likeness of Isaac Asimov.  It will be a glorious new age.

Anne Pliska is a really wonderful perfume, I guess.

never at

I think I don’t hate people, as much as I don’t understand some specific things people seem to do and like, and I get frustrated at that.  It is more frustration at not “getting it”, the whole of “”"”it”"”"”, than it is actual hate.  I think, at least–if not it would be a lot of hate.

I’ve been trying to just be happier, and it is pretty alright.  I’m still bored, though.  I’ll just try sleeping more.

Today I accidentally had to speak to some neighborhood lady.   Taffy wasn’t using her li’l trainin’ pupp’ pads, so I took her outside for a second to see if she’d do so out there.   Kill two birds with one stone, because I want her to start going outside anyway.   So I just open the door, dog on leash, I’m in pajamas (lounge clothes, really, so nothing crazy embarassing–just not something I neccesarily want people trying to talk to me while I’m wearing them) and there is a car parked on the road, near our mailbox.  Some lady is trudging out and walking towards the middle-area of our and the neighbor’s yards, where a cable line has been awaiting burial for…months, maybe, now.  Completely and totally Not Our Thing, but this lady had came to us before to gripe about it…or something, we didn’t answer the door, she left a message crying about the cable line.  We are renting this place, the lawncare is provided, so the beef was that the lawn people couldn’t mow around the cable.  As true as that may be, which it is completely true (the cable had caution tape all around it ((pps thanks cable company for just leaving an unplanted wire just hanging around a house, what the hell)) and we certainly weren’t going to mess with it, nor should anyone else feel obligated to), and we were in agreement that the cable company should be called.

Therefore, lady (she’s like, what do you call it, the President of the Gladys Kravitz Association?) called the cable company, they eventually get out, and now the line is buried, and the surrounding area completely mowed.  They had just mowed around it before.  Everything is fine, UNTIL–
i have to speak to another person, while I’m just trying to relax and get my dog to poop on the grass without incident

She is trudging up, just says “Oh, it looks like they made it out” cool lady don’t worry about formalities like introducing yourself or saying hello or anything, you being at my home now you don’t have to worry about being polite, no you are not intruding in on my loungetime at all

Then, I being as clever as I am and having put together right away who she was and why she was talking about some stupid thing at me says “oh yeah i guess they did” and then I just silently encourage taffy to please go outside oh for the love of god just do it because i want this woman to feel awkward enough about this whole encounter that she just leaves and never looks back

but no taffy just eats grass and stands with her head proud in the breeze, cone and all~~my dog is the opposite of the sort of dog people write epitaphs for

anyway, the lady and me are standing quite a few feet apart, just not talking.  she’s looking at…whatever that massive electric box thing is that it in front of people’s homes and businesses, and she says something about “oh you’ve got tons of _____” and I’m just like, “what is that”
she’s like “oh, it is like little field mice.  that is why there are so many tunnels and a hole oh they have a nest there i guess” and i just say plain as day, “disgusting.”  the fact of the matter is, we live in a perfectly nice condo, and i don’t care to hear about whatever fauna may be on the outskirts of it.  As long as I never, ever see a mouse inside of this house, they can have a stuckey’s out there for all i care

and I don’t think I will, because our home is not uhhhh squalid or old.

meanwhile, some other bitch comes out of her house and says “EX-X-CUSE ME IS YOUR GARAGE DOOR OPENING” just out into the air like that

I look over at her but I’m more concerned about how quickly I can get out of this situation that is now rapidly spiralling into a Social Gathering

the original lady (O.L. Gladys)  says “ohh well i live all the way over on the other side of–” and the other one interrupts at this point “I know where you live and i know who you are” and i’m now stooped over petting taffy and pretending to be preoccupied with some grass or something she was sniffing, like i’m all curious about the World of Nature, Right Outside of My Home!

and the O.L. says “hmm have you checked your circuit breaker”

Meanwhile, I’m thinking, what the hell does this have to do with anything at all, interrupting cow of a neighbor?  if your garage door isn’t opening, the lady who runs the like, compliance committee for this shitty condominium neighborhood isn’t going to be able to fix it?  what does she have to do with that?  she has nothing to do with your garage,  you figure it out.  also, whether her door is opening or not has no bearing on your door’s current state.  Do you think they’re all on the same…garage door circuit or something?  They aren’t.  That is not how electricity or your home or a neighborhood or anything, anything at all works.

instead of saying any of this i am just staring quite intently at a piece of land with my stupid dog in tow
then the O.L. says “hmm would you like a flash light i may have one in my car” and the other interrupting lady says “YES that would be great” STILL like this random woman is obligated to assist her and her garage issues.  maybe the life of a busybody is harder than I thought.

Anyway, I took that opportunity to scuttle back into my house, with the O.L. halfway in her car and the interrupting lady busy feeling important.

that is the story i guess but i thought it was pretty funny how i just went back inside without having much at all in the way of a conversation with that woman, or the other one

It isn’t that I don’t like neighbors, and I don’t want to have a combative or unfriendly relationship with them at all, but I really never “got” the whole “neighborly” thing.   I should just force myself into friendships with people because they live near me?  That doesn’t mean much, at all.  It would be a ‘friendship’ of convenience, and I just don’t think friends are all that convenient as it is.

Besides, I’d much prefer neighbors who are polite, but stick to themselves.  My next-door neighbors are like that, they are occasionally out at the same time as we are, and we sometimes wave at one another, sometimes not.  We, as they used to say, ‘get along’.  It’s no big “OH NEEEIGHBORS lets talk about THINGS and borrow MAIL and watch each other’s DOGS on VACATIONS”  it is more like, “hey, I trust that if my car was getting broken into and you saw it, you’d call the police.  I’d do the same for you, but I do not think either of us should be running around trying to save the neighbor’s car ourselves, you know. also, don’t ask me about my life and i will not ask you about yours. we do not share our names, and we go on about our business, politely.”  That is the perfect neighbor.

anyway long story short if you want to speak with me you have to just so happen to be coming out of your car at the same time i am with my dog outside, or else i just won’t answer the door

p.s. i don’t care about the mouse thing, whatever the hell you were talking about, unless you are going to gas them or something i don’t know, so don’t bother telling me.  you came here to nose around and make sure the cable was buried, it was, so just start heading back.   also, you didn’t have to stop and get out of the car to see that.  i noticed when i just drove by the house earlier today soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
never bother me again, neighbor woman

also interrupting woman what the hell is your deal
what if that lady was talking to me about something important and here you come interrupting us to gripe about something nobody has anything to do with

that is like if I just go lurking around when I see you hillbilly’s outside eating Hotted Dogs and smoking Rolled Tabaccos and I just start complaining that my car isn’t really awesome

what can you do about it? what could me or that neighborhood gladys possibly do about your Current Problems?  just stay inside, christ.

now I’m all itchy because she grossed me out, talking about mice.  I didn’t tell you that my dog has to poop, did I?  so shut up.  no one here is talking about gross stuff.  Don’t come to my house, say something about a buried cable like it was my problem all along and it just finally got fixed (note : it was the cable company’s problem, not yours and definitely not mine, either) and then tell me about some gross stuff happening near by.  I’m just trying to relax, lady.  Not have to take a boiling hot shower out of fear that some small field mouse touched my hand somehow, tenderly.

i already boil myself after going outside for fear of tiny, imperceptible insect invasion

so
thanxX jerk

thousand property

I’m so happy to think that someday I won’t have to think about other people, ever again.  Someday I will be away from the rabble and their constant din, and if that means I have to be alone –completely apart from others– forever, I’d gladly accept that.

I never used to hate people, not the way I do now, I thought they were generally fine enough.  Working among the ‘folks’ lets you see exactly what sort of collective they are.  There are some that are kind and courteous, and I wish them the absolute best in their lives; I just don’t care to know of them, but best of luck, really.  I want to be alone.  I want my career to involve not one other person.

Or if it does, I want them to be deaf, mute, paralyzed, gone.  What do you call the person who applies the lifecosmetic to the dead, before they are displayed?  I’ll take it.

I know there are people I could enjoy, somewhere, and I know I’ll meet them, someday.  I just wonder if it is even worth the bother to look for company, ever.  I had friends, what good did it do me?   I’m happy where I am, if people think I am odd for being so young and so uninterested in friendship, so be it.  Rather, I’d prefer to be thought strange and left alone, than bothered constantly by ‘friends’.

There were beautiful things written, felt, expressed in all manner of ways; not for me, never by me.  I can appreciate them, but only at their surfaces.  I see how it happens, I just don’t see what the trouble is worth–for what?  Some guy with a hat, some girl with a face?

I guess more or less, I’d much rather be alone than settle for a group of people to hang around with, with whom I’d have little in common.  I do think people would be surprised by how solitary I am.  I know it is very odd, but it’s better this way, I believe.  I’ll never just shrug and accept a behatted guy or some facegirl as a friend, just because it seems like the Thing a young person should do.

a list of celebrities people have said i look like:
-disney princess (sleeping beauty specific)
-amy adams
-taylor swift
-”that girl from married with children” (i’ve got to imagine they meant christina applegate, or else katie segal and……………………i do not believe that, no)
-taylor sprietler (this one was really odd as she seems…totally unknown but the woman must like that soap opera)
-a doll

a list of celebrities i really look like:
-a paper bag covered in white out, with a cheap, frizzy blonde wig on top and googly eyes with dead spiders for eyelashes
-the paper bag is pretty accurate imho

Someone tried to scam me at the register, they paid for a candy with a 50 dollar bill (not that odd, a lot of people come around to break such bills) but then wanted me to change out a stack of 1s for his 50.  I told him I couldn’t do that, and he got a little beligerant.   I just kept counting out his money, handed him his change, and told him customer service could that for him.  He was all like, “alright well where are they” like, “oh now you are the irate customer who has been wronged!”.  When he got there, apparently they busted him for something (i assume the 1s had counterfeits, or eles he was trying to doublecount or something) and told him to just leave.  They came around to check my till, the 50 was legit, as I knew it was, then they were even checking back the tapes.  I felt pretty chuffed.  What a dick, though.  What a con, asshole, you’ll get a whole what…50 bucks out of the matter?  How about you just get a job?  I wouldn’t risk embarrassing myself or getting arrested for anything less than…christ, a grand?  that isn’t even a lot, I’d have to be pretty sure I wouldn’t get caught.

Anyway, the thing that irritates me is they just ask them to leave.  Some other woman is a known grift/shoplifter, and she is still allowed in the store.  Give me one ounce of power over that sort of thing, and this store could be assured they’d never have to worry about loss prevention again.  I have no qualms about calling someone out on that sort of thing.  By the way, we are a massive, massive, (largest retail chain on Earth, I believe) store, that brings in massive amounts of money.  If we’re missing out on one hillbilly’s food stamp issuances, so be it.  Just tell her, and tell him, that they are no longer allowed in this store, and they will be escorted out if seen inside again.  Like they have any large networks with which to share this grand injustice with.  Who gives a shit?  Stop allowing yourselves to be victims.  All the managers and slightly-higher-up cashiers do, though.  We have people who work here who are absolutely, monstrously slacking.   Not that it is any business of mine as a low-level employee, screw them at every chance if you like, I say–I just know that if I were given a position of authority…anywhere, it would be a pretty tight ship.  So many people just seem to be afraid to say anything to others.  If I knew I’d have no repercussions other than to be seen as a dick,  so what?   Here, I reveal that I would be a real douchebag to work for.

Not a douche, I just wouldn’t let thieves and cons continue to shop in a store if I had the opportunity to stop them.  Maybe corporate has some policy about not banning customers.  Seems ridiculous.  Why continue to allow yourself to be fucked about?

Same with these ‘price checks’ we do.  Some asshole gets in line, wants to compare prices with shops that are nowhere near our competition–shops in totally different sectors than us.

Discounters, bulk retailers, specialty retailers, et cetera.  Those prices, those places, are not…comparable to ours, therefore, I do not believe we should allow them to change our prices to reflect the ones they see in ads for those shops.  For instance, The Dollar Tree.  People will come here, get some soda, and say “UHHH DOLLAR TREE HAS IT FOR A DOLLAR”.  “Hey cool story brah maybe you should go there instead of here so you can get eeevveeerything for a dollar, ps, the dollar tree is a totally different type of place than the one you are currently shopping at, and odds are good the soda that is a dollar there is not the same soda you are purchasing–or it is an odd batch, or it is nearing expiry, or it is just off-brand, but whatever, whatever, whatever”

Oh, and the most annoying is Aldi.  You know why Aldi is cheaper, goons?  Aldi is cheaper because you bring your own bags, you pack your own shit–you pretty much eliminate a person’s entire paycheck by shopping there.  Aldi doesn’t have to pay as many people, and they don’t have to purchase as many bags, soooo yeah, the prices reflect that.  See though, that is a totally different business model and pricing ladder, so not really in the same league.  You want discounted prices such as the type you’ll find at Aldi?  You should have to go there, and put up with the inconveniences that your thriftiness earns you.    By the way, business for which I work, why can’t we have baggers?  I hate the big box retailers for this, all of them are alike in this respect.  Just hire two or three more people for every shift, and have them rotate around helping large orders with packing up their bags–like legitimate groceries do.

Better idea, get rid of what is the absolutely redundant position of “door greeter”, and hire people on for the same amount of money as “bag couriers” or something.  Maybe they can even double as “door greeters”, in the way that they watch the door for theft when not bagging.  The rest of the ‘door greeters’ responsibilities are stupid, and archaic.  This isn’t Rancher Smorkey’s Old Timey Feed ‘n’ Seed, so cut all the Mayberry aw-shucks bullshit.  Modern up, maybe you can mask your unethical corporate behavior that way.

If I did not actively despise the company I work for, I would tell someone how stupid I think these policies are.

flarking tiberius

i am torn between two super powers:

1) the ability to make everyone agree with me, so mind manipulation, more or less
2)  invisibility, just plain old invisibility.  i mean, i suppose i’d like to be able to turn it off and on.

They relate to my “”"IRL”"”" (in real life) in the following ways:

1) this is pretty obvious, who doesn’t want to control other people’s thoughts and feelings and actions.  it has nothing but benefits, soooo—
2)I’d love to just turn invisible.  I’d constantly be in people’s homes.  Just regular folks, and I’d just listen forever.  I want to hear everything that I’m not supposed to hear, and know all the little arcane, mundane factoids about every life, ever.  I don’t even really want money from it, even though being invisible means you can just sneak into vaults and the like, I just want to see people walking around out in public, and know that I’ve known every little bit about them.

is that weird
i don’t think it is
but part of me wonders how many people would be totally creeped out by someone revealing that to be the reasoning behind what their superpower choice is.–.-.-.-.-.-

flying has no appeal whatsoever
why bother
isnt that what our Fantastical Flying Furloughs are for ? ? ?
SHeeeeSH.

two blogs 2nite
I’ve never had a nosebleed

if i told you i just youtube’d “caillou vlog” would you still luv me
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_j0SU0Anjo
no joke guys that is actually grosser than having sex with a dog

i wouldve expected husky vlog to be cooler

sheesh ive never felt the need to “”"”vlog”"”" about MY OPINION or MY JOKES and try to get viewers to it because really, who ca-a-ares (((***ps a personal journal is different, it isnt like im suggesting people read this , it is barely linked to anything i do except for somewhere hidden on my Internet Profile , or just googling, but who bothers to do that ***i know someone does  }:?| )))

one thing i hate is how all the videos i’ve uploaded to youtube (okay like seventy percent) just have enormous discussions about whether or not some stupid band is racist/fascist/nazi fetishist

The band is fronted by a gay guy, who pretty obviously has it hard for the nazi aesthetic.  not that strange, it is actually a pretty common ”””fetish””’, or a common aspect of a further ””’fetish”” (a fuhrer fetish L.O.L)
and im pretty sure the person who did a documentary about them was a black man
aaaanddd they’ve played concert(s) in israel
so they are kind of bad at being nazis but douglas p is good at being attracted to clean-cut uniforms and domination, sooooo

anyway it just brings my whole thing down because then anytime i make a comment on another video people go there and are like “oh woooow so this person is like a nazi or something i guess, grosssssssss”

whatevvvverrrs cleeveeeerrrssss

this is lame, why did i write two blogs?

str8 hail

So my dog is going in for her spaying surgery tomorrow, and I am nervous!~!~!

I don’t want her to die, and I just get the feeling she might.  I mean, it is in a barn, technically.  Sort of, I guess, not so much, BUT, they also work on farm animals.  Cows and the like.  Seems like a professional outlet UNTIL.-.–.-…~~city confidential

So I worry there will be a mix-up with the tranquilizers and they’ll end up overdosing her.  Or just a routine mess-up that kills her.  She’ll probably be fine though, logic just dictates that.  It is something all vets perform, probably a lot, so no big deal.

It is also going to cost me a lot of money.  Ehhhhhhhh.  I wish I could just do it myself.  I’ve been grooming her myself, just let me rent a scalpel, one of those Elizabethan collars, and some anti-bleeding powder, I’ll

GIT ”GRRRR”’ DONE

or dun
whatevs

I came up with a pretty clever punword, but I’m afraid to tell anyone for fear that they’ll use it themselves for something that gets famous or important, and I’ll be wearing a sandwich board and a barrel w/ suspenders for a shirt in a year’s time, telling teenage girls that I was the one who really came up with that damn word and that i’ll buy them some Malibu flavored rum if they’d only tell me that I’m clever and then punch me in the stomach as hard as you can girls come on

I was so excited about Netflix for about a month, but now I’ve had the same copy of Motel Hell/Deranged out for the past uhhhh month

Motel Hell was alright, Deranged was alright.  Deranged actually was better, just because the corpses used were pretty good.  I think probably not realistic, but I don’t like realism.  The less realistic, the better.  I like dreamy, totally false, impossible-looking things.  Fantastical, I suppose.  Claymation, real props, that sort of thing.  LOOOOOL H8N CGI s0oo0ooOOo00 2006

i still fight the good fights

MIA was on Real Time, and her opinion on some large civil war in her “country of origin”, which really seemed to be moreso her country of ethnic background, because wikipedia tells me that she was born in the UK (soooo) was ehhh

to be fair, what should I care what MIA has to say unless it is about where I can score some weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeds

which by the way i haven’t came anywhere near having in over a year
mostly because i have not had friends since then and i think i seem very ” upstanding citizen ” at work so no one under the age of 40 would think im cool enough not to be a narc or a evangelist or something :_(

they are probably right to think that , i’m like doris day when i am there

ahhggghhhh i am sooo B~O~R~E~D

thrill kill kult might’ve broken up
n o  o n e  k n o w s . . . . .

some lady in my lane at work the other day had a retarded son that at first I thought was normal
then he started talking
and I was like ahhhh, that explains the eyebrows

he was like, 40
she was probably 60 or so
I can’t imagine a worse thing, then to be taking care of some large child who is sort of incapable of gratitude until you are dead……………………..i’d be all like, “doc get this thing OUTTA me!” and then it’d be settled.  Or, I’d just Kennedy it.  Put them in a nice facility somewhere, never to bring down the rest of us at vacations.  You know you’d always have to dumb down vacations, too.  You could never tour a museum, it would always have to revolve around childthings.  Disney, amusement parks…it would definitely blow, in large and small ways.  I talk too much about how much I’d hate to have a mentally disabled child, it really seems either dickish, or I’m trying to talk fate out of giving me one by threatening to treat it really badly.  I’ve pretty much said that a lot, one of my favorite gags when the subject of having a retarded kid comes up (which it does often wthhhhh) is to say “I’ll just keep getting rid of them until you give up the lesson, god.” and i look up at the sky and make a gunpoint

I think you “”"Get The Picture!!!”

it usually gets a laugh

but yeah if there is a god i am deeeefinitely having a disabled kid  :__(

anyway, her son was disabled, but she was a bitch!

It came to the end of her transaction and when she swiped her card and the terminal asked her (briefly, it defaults to English) if she wanted Spanish or English, she sezzz:
“There is only one language.  This is still Uhmerca.”

Meanwhile, her son is squealing about a football shaped thermos and her methy daughter, baby in tow, keeps saying “Why come” about cheez-its or something

I’m like, lady. come on.  don’t even.  what makes you think:
1) i want to hear your words/participate in a conversation/be aware of your opinion on anything outside of cordiality?  I don’t drop shit like that at strangers.  I don’t tell your twangy ass that I wish we could salt the Earth that bore you and yours, and never speak of that region of UMERCA again, right?  I don’t suggest that maybe you should’ve stopped breeding after the first one came out so shit, correct?  I don’t say anything like that, because I live in a society.
2) what you are speaking barely registers as English, and you know it, but you revel in your regional speech, or else…you wouldn’t do it.  I imagine we were born in around the same area, yes?  I don’t speak like you, my family doesn’t speak with you, and no one I really interact with on a substantial level in this area speaks like you.  I know it isn’t impossible, you just think you’re all the more ‘real’ for it, don’t you?  Get out.
3) Have you ever been outside of this much vaunted America of yours?  Had you ever been, I trust that you’d understand how difficult it is to be in a country where the primary language is not your native tongue–the language you’ve used since birth.  Even if a Spanish-speaking immigrant comes to this country with years and years of English language study under their belt, they’re STILL going to be more comfortable using Spanish–just as you or I would be more comfortable using English in France, even if we spoke French well enough to get by as citizens there, we’d still be so grateful to get the chance to fully understand what was coming up on a screen over there.  Do you get that?  Does it make sense?  How does it hurt you, to make others more comfortable in alien situations?  I certainly hope you don’t consider yourself a religious person.  Who would Jesus insist speak exclusively AHNNGLISH?
4) You have no idea who I am.  For all you know, I am Chilean.  Or my husband’s Mexican.  I didn’t say much to you; maybe Spanish is my primary language?  What should that matter?  What made you so certain that you had a anglo-confidante, a sympathetic ear,  in me?  I suppose I am pretty obviously Caucasian, but even still–there are plenty of people in Latin America, or shit, in Spain, who look just like me.  Even if you knew for a fact that I was nothing but a Northern European cur, that still doesn’t mean you get to have a shitty opinion stew with me.

I am weak though, I said nothing. Nothing at all.  I just let my face fall, gave her a receipt, and told her to have a nice day.  There is no changing people, and the cashier at her local area Walmart isn’t going to make her rethink her position on the Spanish language being available as an option at bank machines, nothing would.

I just don’t like people, and I probably never will.  Someday I’ll just have a nice little world, all to myself, with a mate who agrees with me on this sort of thing or at least humors me and pretends to, and some kids that will be forced to agree with me all the time or else they don’t get to have xboxes, and we’ll live out in the woods, declare ourselves a sovereign nation.  We’ll call it Groovy Gritch, and the teens will make out there, but when the FBI storms the place, the teens, they will be gone.  Scattered like dreams, like dust in the w i n d . . .

yeah thats it, the ticket is right there, the ticket 2 riIide

i’d probably be a lot happier in a place where most people at least wouldn’t think i was a witch if they had any idea what sorts of things I agreed with

So Indiana is more or less o-u-t

ho hum, that milwaukee move is either going to be SOON or MUCH LATER or NEVER, it all depends on the job decisions of another guy, who is indecisive

my grandmother, uncles, and dad all are technically going to be canadian citizens in a matter of months or something

My grandma was forced to renounce her Canadian citizenship as a kid, while Canada was doing that thing where you had to not be Canadian anymore in order to become an American, or something…anyway, they are reinstating hers, and offering citizenship to her children as well.  Not her grandchildren though.  SharXxxxxxXXx

i think i’d really like canada
or anywhere
I really should’ve never been in such a hurry to leave london
I mean for real I had the chance to uhhhhh totally live the rest of my life there

my dad had a job that was in no danger of not being around, and he was quite comfortable, and everything there was just so much better than it is here.

why did I bother coming back, what is here for me that I couldn’t find anywhere else, in more quantity and with more quality?

i came back for my friends, and to finish high school.  for what?  what has all of that gotten me?  I haven’t spoken to any of those friends in shit, maybe a year?  All those precious people that I had to leave one of the most ____ cities in the world for?  The people who I couldn’t stand to look at months after graduation?  The ones I still liked, where are they?  I don’t know, haven’t bothered to look.

And school, who gives a shit. I could’ve gone to a community college over there, started off on a path of doing some lame bullshit.  I could’ve worked at the Asda for christsakes, pretty much directly what I’m doing, just in a more fun, awesome, full-of-things place.

whatever.  we have to live with every stupid little decision we make, and as far as they go, coming back the united states to finish my senior year of high school hardly ranks up there with unwed teenage mother sooooo

well now i’m just angry and tired

all that griping tuckered me out

i’m pretty excited about ______
it is sure to be awesome

I really need to return Motel Hell/Deranged.
I am expected an assortment of Things in the mail, that is always nice.

I get paid in like, another week.  That will be Nice.
I found someone on Soulseek with a whole bunch of old Hammer Film soundtracks.  That is NIce.
Oh yeah, best of all, the soundtrack to Vengeance of She.  Now I want to see the movie; although I’m sure it sort of blows, in ways that I find acceptable, but blowage none-the-less.  NICe.
I have tomorrow off.  NICE.
I have wanted a root beer all day, but I haven’t had root beer in years.  Maybe I’ll get some root beer tomorrow, after I drop Taffy off.  Maybe I’ll go all the way to Sonic, and try one of their million different drinks.  I like drinks.  I wish I had some way of just stocking my entire home with drink and drink accessories.  yeah

that is

the

d r e a m
c’est une reve
into the grave

basal wrathbone

In what has already been a year of things that made me laugh, this is the absolute tops, a Bendel bonnet, a Shakespeare sonnet:
Everyone here made the right decision, clearly.

On to TEEEAAAARS AND CRRRIIIEEEES ABOUT SOBSOBS
I think I might just stay the way I am, forever.  I don’t much care for the thought, but I don’t have a lot of options.

Really, I have plenty of options.  I just don’t know what to do, and I probably never will.

I want so much, but the ultimate goal is so little.  Why bother with all the effort, when all I really want to do is survive?
I want whatever, I need one thing.   I’m too afraid to try, just afraid that I won’t do as well as I always hoped I would.  So I don’t try.   That has been the overarching theme of my life, for as long as I’ve been cognizant.  I guess I figure, maybe someday, someone will inspire me to become what I want to be, someone will encourage me to try, and to never mind missed perfection.   I’m just not the sort of person to compromise on what I think could be, or what I could accomplish.  The idea that I may fail at something I see as possible/attainable absolutely terrifies me, and paralyzes me.  So I try nothing, nothing I have any confidence in.  How stupid to only be willing to try things which you feel you’ll perform poorly in!  Any sort of ’skill’ I feel that I have, I have hidden all away in shame and fear–that it might not be as perfect as it has to be.

Then I idle, waiting, thinking someday someone will have the right series of words, the right stimulus, and they’ll be able to make me do it.   It being whatever it is that I am meant to do.  For a person who believes in nothing, I do certainly put a lot of stock in pre-destination–which is about the weakest aspect of mystic thought, right?  It is also the only part that has any bit of allure.  A completely directionless being, well, that is more or less what I am–and I don’t much care for it.  I need to have something, and I guess what I have, is the idea that someday I will do whatever it is I am meant to do.  Maybe it will just dawn on me, sometime soon, maybe never.  Maybe I’ll see something, and I’ll know.  Maybe I’ll listen, and I’ll understand completely.

If not, I could very well be working in mass-market retailers all of my life, having some sort of brood of children with some vaguely attractive nice guy with whom I share little but love.  Then matching sweatpants, giving up.  If I manage not to be divorced towards the end of my life; last few years, he never listens, but that is alright, I’ve never got anything to say.  We die, the children are sad, the grandchildren search their memories of horehound candy and old leather purses: ‘what was grandma like, anyway?  Oh, she sounds pretty okay, I suppose.’      I don’t really want that, but I am making no real steps to…not do that.  I need to believe I will be more, that some unseen Adam Smith is guiding me as well, and someday I will achieve …something.

If not, what have I done?  I look around at all the people who shop: day in, day out at this store, and I feel terrible.  Mostly because I see how frail we are, the mortality all around.  I see people, and I see my dad, my mom, anyone I love, myself, and I know we’re all nearing the end.  Any moment could come, and destroy every little bit.  Every word you ever said, every thing you ever did, every gene, every little, imperceptible bit of ‘you’, and it will all be gone from the consciousness soon enough.  Shredded beyond recognition, and everything just continues on as machinated, by nature, by aNcIeNt SeCxReT g0dZ, whatever.

I want to live forever.

Beyond that, they worked to accomplish things, they’re happy in their lives, they aren’t constantly wracked inward, wondering about themselves, and why they can’t just DO something, or NOT do something and just LET GO.  They do have so much more to live for, and I have the audacity to consider myself superior to some of them, based on their opinions or thoughts, or whatever…At least they have direction, and purpose.  At least they have love, and friends, and fun.  At least they have children, and futures, and pasts, and memories, and experiences, and they know what to say and what to do in their own lives.   They’re defined, quite human, they have so much more than I.

They don’t wait around forever for some muse, some hand, some figure to tell them what to do, to make up for what their own constitution lacks, to make them one whole person.  They have so much, and all I have is whatever all this is: what good has that done me, all this time?

Maybe I’ve been wrong all this time, maybe it is better to just let yourself ‘be’.  I just don’t know how easy it could be to give up the dream of inspiration, somewhere.  Maybe I am no more than what readily, visibly am.  Just vacuous words in the ether, some body with organs and headmeats, who won’t amount to anything for any particular reason.  The idea hurts, but it is something everyone else came to terms with as a child, right?  It isn’t that I think I’m special, or that I deserve something more than survival…I guess I just want to be the “”"”"”"best me”"”"”" there is, and I don’t feel that I am, and I have no idea how, or by what measure, I will be.  I can be more, just a little more, than what I am–but I just won’t do it, and if I do, how will I know?

It doesn’t matter anyway, this is just a lot of stupid words.  It makes me sick, in a totally different way, to see myself so weak.  Why am I just typing all this out–to what benefit?  None, of course, only detriment is possible from keeping an “”"”"online journal”"”"”" full of heartfelt wahwahs.

I guess I need to communicate my “feelings” to something or someone, even if it is just more nonspecific chatter in the din.

luod borud

bored~~
i’m just waiting until virtual reality theme parks i guess:
http://www.viktorviktoriashop.com/theshop/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=198&products_id=1236

http://irregularchoice.co.uk/images/index.php?album=collections%2Fss09%2Fladies

http://www.flickr.com/photos/32470324@N08/3448286393/

http://boxerfanatic700.livejournal.com/4946.html

and a million people bother me in a million insubstantial ways

sherman is another okay name for a kid, maybe a middle name.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JYnCsCuGMsY

if i ever had a kid, he’d most certainly, and I’m sure I’ve said this a million times, they won’t be allowed anywhere near a camera until they are officially cool.

kids are pretty cool i think , just tol (thinkin out loud)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lALc5KSz8uQ
awww man look at thiiiis look at thiiiiis—
what sort of weird draconian school insists children opens their milks?
YOU CAN’T HAVE ANY PUDDING
also that kid has no idea what mr belvedere is , and I hope he never does.

you know the guy at work who was moderately cute that i may have mentioned in this blog is pretty much totally alright , he’s got the qt half moon eyelid thing.  feh , but i’ll never say anything because i am an absolute chicken and i just don’t know if i’d want to bother with some ‘get to know you’ relationship thing–i’d feel obligated to always look super put-together at work, anyway, which as of right now I can just do whatever and schlomo about in oversized clown clothes and mascara.  we do smile at each other though. :_____)  what does it matter, i’m sure he’d just end up being a Dude who likes Songs and Drinking, and would think I was weird–not too weird to have sex with, but just weird enough to not want to have a future with.  i’m too picky, probably.  that is how people end up spinsters.   rather that than a sad, trapped person who gets stuck with kids who are just like some guy who she only marginally liked.  boring, oafish children born from a boorboarorc.  that is just the way i’ve always been, it’s got to be perfect (~*~*~*~*~*~*waoh , itsmagic whenim withyou~*~*~*~**~) or i don’t want it at all.  WHAREVVEESSS

BESIDES, THEN MY FRIEND ANTHONY WAS LIKE WAaaaAAAAHHHOOOH I’M WATCHIN RANDOMS+))) SHUT UP YOU OLD BAT ((((!!!!!!

I got very angry with a  rude old lady today.

We have to cover breaks and lunches for everyone at the front end, as cashiers, so I had to cover the door greeters three times today.  Which blows, as you may very well guess.    Mind, that we’ve never been trained (as a group, or as far as I know, on an individual basis) for any of these positions other than the one we’re at–and were hired for–cashier.

The assumption, I suppose, is that the other main front-end gigs (in my time here, I’ve done three other people’s jobs, see, given them breaks :door greeter, fitting room/phonebank, and “sales associate”/restocker) are pretty simple, and if you are capable of cashiering, you are capable of doing any of them.  True as that may be, it doesn’t really work so well when you don’t even know what that job includes.  The only thing I’d ever observed door greeters doing is pulling carts up from the back area, making them easier for customers to get to, and handling return merchandise.

Apparently, they’re also supposed to wipe down carts.  My theory is this is a recent thing, due to the ~swine flu~, which I suppose should actually be a fear for the Walmart audience; ancient, malnutrition’d group that they are.

Soz there I iz, relieving some easily 70+ old lady of her post–which as far as I know, is standing there, occasionally moving carts up, and putting stickers on items people are returning.  So, I do just that–quite pleasantly, might I add.  Just today someone told me I was “probably the nicest cashier they ever had”, but then they had to ruin it by saying “and very beautiful, too”.  Okay, it isn’t ruining it, at all, but I would like to think that my politeness has it’s own merits, and it wasn’t just an in for some guy to try and get some–in some vague, impossible way.  Either way, thank you guy, for not being entirely creepy about it.  I hope I was really nice enough to remark upon, and it wasn’t just some line.

ok now what i really need complimented is my inability to write a cohesive thought without turning into five thoughts–or not complimented ~WHATEVER, MY FRIEND ANTHONY——————————-

So, I am very pleasant, people like me, and everyone is having a Good Day.

The old bag comes back to the entrance, and she sits down at the bench across from where I am standing, with the carts, et cetera, and drinks her coffee.  I’m not giving this situation much, if any thought.  Door greeting is total busywork, she’s just some old lady drinking coffee, and people are all responding to my politeness in kind.  All in all, pretty alright.

So, fifteen minutes later, she gets up and trots over to me, and I say (very cheerfully, as I am fitfully so at work, especially when interacting with these former deep sea gods) “are you ready for me to get out of your way?”, sort of a nice, deferential thing, right?  Like, “aw shucks ya old bitch, you do this better than me, because you have ‘life experience’.  be it as it may that your life experience has led you here, working well into your senility years, so I take your ‘experience’ with ‘decision making’ with a grain of salt, you still are old, so I am nice.”

I say that, and she’s all grimacing, some weird, manic face that was either a snarl or smile.  Snile.  Senile.  She says, “WELL, YOU COULD HELP ME WIPE DOWN THE CARTS, SINCE IT IS PART OF YOUR JOB, INSTEAD OF TALKING ON THE PHONE”

Daaaaaaamn, Fern.  What kind of 1800s Appalachian Mountain name is that, anyway?  So, daaaaamn, Fern.  Did they run out of pretty plants by the time your mom mistook you for some other hillmongoloid’s skittering afterbirth?  First thing that comes to the mind, I suppose.  It is fitting, being that a fern is a plant no one much cares for, just tolerates, that just refuses to die.

Then, more nerve, you think you can just start walking away after delivering that miscarriage of dementia right at my feet.  You actually just start walking away.  You don’t just accuse someone of something, then leave.  I don’t think you’d have the nerve to do that to a man of any age, or a woman over 30.  Trust baby, I’m the one you should be shamefully laying palms for.
So, not being one to leave someone thinking they’ve “got me”, I tell you what really happened:

“Well, I didn’t know that wiping the carts was a requirement, I wasn’t trained to door greet.  Also, I certainly was not talking on my phone.”  Verbatim, and yeah it isn’t as ~^tuff^~ as I would’ve liked to have been, but its really hard to temper myself without just sanitizing the emotion completely.

Then, you start walking back towards me, pantomiming someone looking at a phone.  Which, yeah, I guess I did look at my phone to check the time.  Didn’t really try to hide it, either.  I don’t wear a watch, and I carry my phone and wallet in my hands.  I don’t have big enough pockets for my wallet, and my phone just makes an ugly bulge, so I hold it–and no one has ever had a problem with that.  I’d check my phone’s time in front of a customer; to me, there is no shame in that.  It’s the time, for the love of christ.  Should I be in a sensory deprivation tank?  I’m certainly not going to put my important things down on the dirty, nasty, sticky floor of a massive, busy retailer just so some old bitch can make ABSOLUTELY SURE that I’m not talking on my phone.

So she pantomimes this, and I say to her right away, “No, I was checking the time.  Don’t wear a watch.”  probably still smiling, because I just cannot be rude.  That is why I’m so hateful on the internet haha

And she gives me like a, “OH CAUGHT BAD GIRL” look and says “you weren’t checking MY time”, which I’m really still not sure about the meaning of.

I think she was saying that she didn’t appreciate me checking what time it was on Earth, because in some worm-eaten mind, that could possibly be seen as a slight against the amount of time she took to drink her coffee?  I don’t attach ethical implications to non-ethics based actions; such as taking a look at the time.  Meanwhile, ugh.

This woman, just made me want to throw up.  Eventually, I just smiled and shrugged and left myself.  There was going to be no winning with her, and I had an actual job to do.  One that requires one or two mindgrapes more than hers, and pays one or two dimes more.  Really, if anything, I’m her superior–even in the job.   Door greeters never take over for cashiers, cashiers take over for them.  Sooo, one of us is trusted with cash and assumed to be capable enough to do any of the other jobs nearby, and one is old people who sit just jowl it up over by the doors for four hours, tops.

Either way, no one, but no one, accuses me of something I didn’t do.

My mother accused me of stealing a bracelet of hers for probably three years.  It’d come up every few months, and she’d be pissy with me for weeks at a time for this completely ridiculous transgression, that never happened.  She’d say shit like, “Maybe you gave it to a friend”, knowing full well that I’d never just given a friend some thing, it’d have to be concurrent with a birthday or something.  I definitely wouldn’t give one of my friends my mother’s bracelet–I would’ve assumed the woman who bore me knew my character well enough to figure that.  She didn’t, probably still doesn’t.  Anyway, three years later, she finds the bracelet in some jewelry box of hers or something, and never apologizes for the years of tension–all based on a superstition.

This wife of Lot accuses me of something I didn’t do, something that I wouldn’t do (and while this lady doesn’t know me from her biological father, the assumption that I’m the kind of person who is both rude and stupid enough to be talking on my phone during work hours, in front of customers, in front of co-workers, enrages me) and then when I defend myself against her ridiculous accusations, SHE gets indignant.  Like I’M the one out of line.

What if I just said I thought she stole something, like that coffee she was suckling?  I didn’t see her pay for it, for all I know, she stole it.  She did look a little nervous when she was drinking it, like maybe she knew what she did was wrong.  I have just as much reason to believe she stole that as she did to believe I was talking on my phone like some sort of sassy, gum-popping archetypical “teen” from the heady days of her …older youth.  I suppose me and Mamie Van Doren got together later that day and raced muscle cars with Daddy-O and Rat Phink. I had a scarf around my head, how irreverent!  Then we went and saw Dr. Goldfoot and the Girl Bombs, and I actually did sort of enjoy myself.  Sounds like an alright day, Mamie was good people.

That archetype exists much the same way as the thieving, piss-poor elderly crackpot who assumes the world is obligated to aid her–including, but not limited to, providing her with free coffee.  So, Fern, you stole that coffee.  Case closed, could not possibly convince me otherwise.  If you tried to do so (which you wouldn’t be able to, because all your life I’m sure you have been quite passive-confrontational, you’ll drop some shit on a person, but you don’t like to stick around to have to talk about it, do you–because you can’t defend your positions, because you aren’t that clever), I would just give you a knowing smirk and tell you that you better not have been drinking MY coffee, or some other incomprehensible, insulting garble.

So, yeah, that old lady made me angry.

2000 words worth of angry

She seriously sucked though

and I feel unfulfilled because I didn’t really get to rip into her; being a decent human being and all, I’m not going to actually be that mean to some old lady.  For all I know, she may really be losing her mind.

SHUT UP OLD LADY I’M ANTHONY NOW

elevator tan

Oh my god why is some old perfume that I am only marginally interested in sampling like, at least eighty dollars for a 3.3 EDP, with no smaller options for less than say–fifty?

I really just want to try it; the notes sound good, I love the specific shade of pink she really seemed to have created, Mae West’s influence in any spectrum is just totally killer, all the reviews indicate it invokes 1930s glamour, which interests me because I have no idea what that would smell like (faint idea of 50s glamour and all, but anything pre-’55 I’d be more or less lost as to what is “glamourous” or even popular for fragrance) and that Elsa Schiaparelli seems like alright people–good, solid folk.  The kind of person I would say “Oh, awesome” if I heard that someone had met her.  Too bad she’s long dead, though. Anyway, Shocking is too expensive for a perfume that was reintroduced in the 1990s: I’m not looking for a vintage bottle (not without testing the notes, at least), I’d be happy to test the rerelease and see if I liked it or not.  I’m keeping an eye out, watch out world, I may purchase a sample of a thing sometime

I’m also angry!  So angry!

I’m cashiering, doing my thing, and I’ve got this old bag who just has a mountain of sacks on the carousel, where items go to be bagged and then, by the customer, put back into their cart.    She’s not making any moves to put stuff back in her cart as the transaction goes on, but I just assume she’s one of those people who waits until they’ve paid to move all of their stuff back into the cart.  It is stupid, but I know that shopping can be a terrifying, exotic venture for some people so I just let it go.    Anyway, mountain of stuff.  Ridiculous-looking, huge, obviously unwieldy piles of her items, bagged, ready to be taken away from my lane, right?

No.  She slides her credit card, finishes that all up, I hand her the receipt, I wait for her to start moving some of her stuff THEN SUDDENLY DROOPY DOG ENTERS THE FRAY:
“oh, you don’t load them?”

Attn: World
Re: The most certain way to make me angry
Body: Sound like a goddamn baby.

There is one noise in this world that absolutely cuts right through me, and it is adult men and women making with that pathetic, pitiful voice.  I despise people who hunt down pity, who actually want people to feel sorry for them, and use their ‘disadvantage’ (real or feigned ((almost always goddamn feigned))) to their advantage.  Seriously, you want to make me mad, in a totally non-playful, absolutely disgusted way?  Sound like you’re in urgent need of my most tender care.  “Ooooh you don’t bag them ahbloobloobloo”

I only ever want to hear such desperate, craven need for help in an adult human’s voice when you are drowning in mud.  Then, you can go ahead and be so pathetic, or pitiful, so on-the-verge of tears.

When it is just some dumb shit like you are an entitled little cooz who couldn’t possibly comprehend a world where somebody who has been working all day doesn’t bend at the knee to aid you (where aid is completely unneccesary by the way, you being a woman who at your oldest is 55, who managed by some magical grace to get the items INTO your cart).  You know, lady, it totally would’ve been one thing had you just said, “Oh, can I have a little help getting this into my cart?”  I still would’ve rolled my eyes inwardly because honestly, if you are too weak to lift things, you shouldn’t purchase them, maybe.  Call Meals on Wheels, your laziness isn’t my problem, and I don’t get paid to aid the elderly.  But I’ll do it, and I’ll probably feel bad, and I will be as friendly as ever with you.

It is the way you said it.  I’m glad I was kind of a bitch.

“No, not traditionally.”  with a purposeful, confused grimace on my face–making clear that what you are asking is something that the average, everyday, decent person does not bother me with.
“Oh reeeaaally well–”
“but if you want me to, I’ll help you.” specifying that what I am doing is indeed helping you, and is in fact, not an obligation on my part–not at all, not one bit.  Not a part of my job, in any capacity.  I do it for people who ask, or for old women who are clearly impaired, but just some dumb old skank who is lazy, whiny, and entitled to it?  Absolutely not, not without you having to ask me.  You’ll have to embarass yourself in front of everyone be seeming so needy to get the great reward of not having to lift your arms above your waist.

The reason I don’t jump to do this shit?  Because I have dignity.  Number one, I’m not Hopskip the Fetchgirl.  I’m here to do very few things, really.  Make sure all of your items get scanned properly, make sure that they are in bags that will not break and are sorted properly, and make sure you pay.  Other than that, it is on you.  I do extraneous things, of course, because contrary to what my every blog seems to revolve around, I do like people, and generally get along (at least for the short amount of time I interact with them) with most everyone.  I like to see the items they buy, the way they speak to each other, and I like to make people happy.  Well, make polite people happy.  They have it coming to them.

In addition, I have self-respect, so I don’t really project such…piteous behavior on to others.  I assume everyone has the same level of dignity that I do, and they wouldn’t want to be seen getting help from someone else on simple tasks, and more or less, they’d want to handle their business…by themselves.  I’d be ashamed if I had to ask someone for help; you seem to think you shouldn’t even have to ask!

Then you go on to say that “(i’ve) never been to one that didn’t load before”.  Oh, really?  Never, huh?  Did you just step out of a atomic shelter, because baby, ain’t nobody been helping anybody since 1980.  I don’ think bagboys really exist anymore, not here in the United States.  I’ve worked at this place for almost half of a year now, and I’ve never, ever, ever seen a cashier load up a cart for an ABLE-BODIED person.  Unless you have some hidden lobster hands, which you don’t, because you got the shit in there in the first place, there is no reason for me to assume you need help.  Silly me,  I should’ve smelled your weakness; recognized you as a member of our little human group that needed to be left to the lions.

Honestly, one thousand times I could just say this: I cannot even begin to explain how much I hate the sound of a serious, whining tone, if the person is over 14.  There are so many people in this world who want to be the victim, and play the poor sap for everyone’s “awww”s and “ohh poor dear”s.   Shameless.  This is just one minute example.  If you could hear the tone in this bird’s voice, you’d totally get it.

If you want someone to do something for you, just say it.  Don’t be passive aggressive, don’t beat around the bush, don’t cry for it, just ask.  If they don’t want to do it, then alright.  You shouldn’t try to manipulate people’s weak spots emotionally, especially for dumb little things like “help with your groceries”.  If you can’t get what you want through reason, suggestion, and neccesity, then you don’t deserve to get it–whatever it is.   If you have to play weak, whatever it is you want should just be given to the next person.  Weakness is not a good thing, no one should be okay with being seen as pathetic.

That is all, I guess.  Droopy Dog people just make me wish I were some sort of…wizard.
A wizard
of foz

parjims coo

Perfumes I’d like to try:

Social Creatures – Rebel Ambush
M. Micallef – Aoud Gourmet
Omnia Profumo – Madera
Anne Pliska – Namesake
CSP – Matin Calin
Creative Scentualization – Joy Comes from Within
Creative Scentualization – Perfect Vanilla
Comme des Garcons – 3
Farmacia SS – Sofron
Farmacia SS – Aurora
Frapin – 1270
Hilde Soliani – Bell’Antonio
Il Profumo – Chocolat
Il Profumo – Chocolat Frais
Il Profumo – Chocolate Amere
L’artisan Parfumeur – Piment Brulant
L’atelier Boheme – Immortelle
Lostmarch – Lann-Ael
Montale – Chocolate Greedy
Montale – Amandes Orientales
Montale – Ginger Musk
Montale – Boise Vanille
Montale – Blue Amber
Montale – Musk to Musk
Montale – Orient Extreme
Montale – Vanilla Extasy
Montale – Vanille Absolu
Parfum d’Empire – Aziyade
Parfumerie Generale – Aomassai
Parfumerie Generale – Musc Maori
Pilar and Lucy -exact friction of the stars
Profumi di Pantelleria – Jailia
Serge Lutens – Arabie
Serge Lutens – Ambre Sultan
Serge Lutens – Chergui
Serge Lutens – Chypre Rouge
Serge Lutens – Datura Noir
Serge Lutens – Five O’ Clock Au Gingembre
Serge Lutens – Gris Clair
Serge Lutens – Rousse
Serge Lutens – Serge Noir
Serge Lutens – Un Bois Vanille *
Tocca – Brigitte
Thierry Mugler – Alien *
YOSH – Ginger Ciao 2.27
Keiko Mecheri – Sanguine
Sage EDTs – Amber
I Profumi di Firenze – Ambra Tibet
I Profumi di Firenze – Shambhala Tibet
Bond No. 9 – Fire Island
Bond No. 9 – Little Italy
Bond No. 9 – Coney Island
Bond No. 9 – New Haarlem (two As?)
Bond No. 9 – Chinatown *

*=   i tried a perfume and i liked it , the smell of its notes n su-u-uch
italics=  I’d really like to try it.

Names for infants I’d like to try:

Evelyn, Eloise, Elisa, Elise, Eleanor, Marilou sort of but I can see it going poorly, and a few more for girls I guess, they’re just easier to name–and no i don’t know why pretty much every one of them is an ‘E’ name, I think I just find it pleasant.  Also, pretty much every single one of them also has a song that I really like attached to it;probably no way to name a child, but my mom got my name because a favorite d00d of her youth murdered his ex-girlfriend in that hotel  ;____(  whatevs it has been a Fine name for all these years, no matter the origin.  Besides, where do children’s names come from usually, anyway?  It isn’t like I have some massive attachment to one name just out of nowhere; it comes from somewhere, usually some sort of media.  It just so happens that I like these songs, and I attach beauty and sentimentality to all of them, traits/feelings I’d like to see/have for any daughter.

boys are hard; I guess Victor (and they can easily transition into being a lady, or just go by Vic ((like Vic Mackey oh maaaan what a coolass son that would be))) is pretty alright, Marcus is totally acceptable (and hey they can be Mark if all else fails, a Perfectly Appropriate name for a job interview or whatever) and so is Lucius (then you can be Luke, which is a strapping name i spose), or equivalents thereof.  The problem with boy names is it is a lot harder to find names that can’t very quickly become feminized or tauntable.  Girls don’t get a lot of name-based-picking-ons (i would’ve seen it first hand if it was bigtime, my middle name is a pure combination of virgin and vagina after all, and i don’t think anyone ever really pointed it out), but you name a boy Demetrius and expect him to come home from school all slapped around WELL sorry it is a good name, even here in the modern united states!  not everyone has to be Ian or John or Kyle and certainly NO ONE needs to be Brooklyn or London.  That is one thing you can be sure of, future offspring, you will not have a location-based name.  I know how much it sucks.  every single bit of my name is really just a place–right down to the last.  it is just boring; i can’t tell you how many times ‘name meanings’ somehow came up in my classes, and people would go all around “oh my name means the holiest of beautiful stuff”, “sainted one here!”, and “aw cool a literary reference arent i sassy”

meanwhile, get to me, and it is solid ‘a port, commonly chalk-based’.

One english teacher said something about sailors, but I think he was trying to be more   h e a r t s t r i n g i s h  because it was something like “weary travellers, like sailors were back then especially, would find themselves at home with you”.  OH TY BRAH, it is sweet and all, but you know all of us tittered after you said it because for the love of christ the best thing my name is associated with is sailors on leave, which are a lusty group of roustabouts at best.  Hardly biblical.  everybody else got to begat somebody, meanwhile all I’m doing is sending chalk to and fro and apparently slagging around with sailors.  Or, processing meat in New York.  Or, being a tOaDaLlY pUnK hOtEl where two incredibly unattractive but very talented people allegedly had sex (leonard cohen and janis joplin) and two sort of attractive but very much the opposite of talented people met their doom (sid vicious and nancy spungen).

So that is it, that is me.  Awesome.  ps i am not pregnant just talkin bout some sweet, sweet names because i finally found a song with my name in it, being used as a name~~!!

Anyway, as I was saying, my kids are going to be named Hawkeye Spittlekraut and Bahia Starganza.  One will be a sharpshooter and the other a latin-american spy.

cool