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Women with bird-like faces are the most likely to be bitches.  Squawk! Squawk!  Those were marked 3.40, not 3.60!  Squawk!  I’d just give these silly cows twenty cents out of my own pocket if I could, and if it meant they’d shut up and just accept whatever price was shown.  Unless there is a major price discrepancy, I –along with all the other people on Earth with a little self-respect– wouldn’t quibble.   Also, price matching.  Attention sows; if the price is so much better at Marsh, go there.  I’ll drive you there myself, and regale you with tales of how my family would be ashamed to be the kind of people who have bird faces, no money, and a poor disposition.  For then you know your genes might as well just kaputz guuuurl

Mousy, plain women will not make eye contact with you, but they’ll say “hello” deferentially.  Might as well be pushing up their glasses and calling me sir.  In this reference, I am Peppermint Patty.  I am not gay, but both the Female and Male variations of The Gays seem to catch my groove easily.  Easier than you breeeeeders at least l00o00ol

The generously-assed will pay with a check.  Old people are given a pass on this one, because they are old and stuck in their ways.   If you want twenty over on your check for fourteen dollars, I’d like to just take your check and scribble across it “DEBIT CARD? y/n :0)”

The bank gives them out for free.  Why do you not have one?  Please explain, hillbilly.

Two people in as many days have told me I look like a china doll.  I am okay with this.  Very okay!  smiiilez

My hands are all torn up from cashiering and my new puppy, and it hurts to use the hand sanitizer, or any of my lotions.  Wah, wah.

Taffy is adorable, and she is as sassy as any pup could be.  A real fusserton.

I am about to just pass out.  I want my first paycheck, and I want my schedule to be concrete.  They keep jerking me around with the schedule, I have a handwritten one that I was told to go off of for the first three weeks, and it has only been around two weeks.  Near three though, so I can understand if I’d shown up on the electronic one by now.  Apparently I am on one mysterious and fake electronic schedule only my supervisors received, and I’m not at all present on the one posted in the employee break area.  Some guy who must be a superior to my superior gave a long explanation to my lady that she didn’t repeat, that explained the error.  All I know is, this is hardly any fault of mine–and this management group really ought to get it’s act together.  I was hired part-time, given a full-time schedule at first: it took three days to actually get it changed to what I was hired for.  I was told to use that schedule, and it has all the dates from three weeks then on filled out.  Now I’m being told this electric bullshit, and just ugh.

I hope no one just googles various key phrases I might’ve used in this journal in conjunction with…other phrases they might’ve noted.  Really though, I’m sure none of them “”"”"get”"”"”" that I am sort of clever.  I think some customers get turned off by my use of ‘words’.  I told some woman that someone had ””absconded”” with my pen, and she just looked at me.  I totally understand, it is a stupid word and it was my fault for using it, like I’m some sort of Dickensian school marm.

I get the same look when I use the word partition, though.  Which is awful.

Whatevs b@bii i dnt need nufin~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

have a hollyjolly one, online journal/”"”"blog”"”"”

strictly from

HAWTTT96.3 is now the Autotune Radio Network.  I was on the road all afternoon, and only twice did I hear a song that did not have T-Pain or an autotune featured somewhere.   I was just about to call in and request anything made before the autotune’s reign, any goddamn thing.  Don’t get me wrong, I “”"get”"” the vocoder, it does sound nice–but a little variation, maybe, sometimes, who knows?  Just a little?  Sample something?  OH and SERIOUSLY enough with the weird-ass female voice samples that are so distorted I can’t even make out what they’re saying “no one on tha block has fights like us?” I know it can’t be that, Kan-yeezy.  I just wish I knew what it was.  What I really wish though, was that it didn’t repeat throughout the entire song, drowning out anything or anyone else that might’ve had the audacity to show up on your beat.  N-n-noo one o-o-on t-ththtthehthethehtshethsethshtshethLET SOMEONE OTHER THAN PUBLIC DOMAIN SAMPLES BE HEARD, FOR ONCE IN YOUR PRODUCING LIFE

Anyway, I just got back from an interview with A Corporation That Dares Not Be Spoketh Of, and I think it went pretty well.  I was nervous, but I think maintained charm.  Without any work experience, it is sort of hard to come up with answers for their questions.  “When have you been faced with a task you needed to complete but didn’t have time to complete?”  uh school i guess  “Sometimes quality needs to be sacrificied for time.  When have you had to do that?” uh school i guess haaahaaa

I think my smile was gregarious enough though, at least enough to get through to the next phase; calling my references.  Come on, it’s a cashier job– whatever stupid reference I gave you is just going to say “oh yeah she’s pretty alright.  no problems.”  What more could they say?  Then the drug test; I’ll pass that.  Then a THIRD interview, then an orientation.  I haven’t the slightest why there is so much hoop-jumping for here.  My interview at Kroger was one time, they chose not to hire me, but they just asked me when I could show up and if I had any felony convictions.  This place wants to know what’s up with every single aspect of my being, and more than that, I think they want me to be excited to be working for them.  If you don’t know what company I’m talking about, that last little italics won’t mean much…but if you know who I mean, and you know who I am, you are probably thinking that it’ll be hard for me to hide my ire.  Well, not so hard–I’m capable of pretending to enjoy things I absolutely hate, and this is a job, no matter where it is.  Besides, if I ever want to quit, it’ll be easy enough; just start talking about unionizing.

The worst thing were the Christmas songs in the interview room.  Some awful, awful, awful “modern” Christmas songs.  Just play Perry Como and Bing Crosby if you want to your music Christmas’d, not these terrible, awful, no-good modern ‘classics’.   Me, I’d prefer no holiday music at all.  Or maybe a few classy instrumentals, maybe Greensleeves, I’ll accept that.  Yeah, I’ll take Greensleeves.   The Anita Kerr Christmas albums are nice, and Phil Spector’s Gift album is pretty alright… Other than that, no thanks.  Keep it to yourself, Christmas music fans.  I don’t care how touching Vanessa Carlton’s cover of “Christmas Time, Christmas Time, Winter Weather, Presents, Dead Relatives, Christmas Time, Come Home Baby, It’s Christmas TIme, Grandma Got Run-Over by a Sappy-ass Sentimental Holiday Ballad” is, I just want to hear the sound of my own thoughts.

Si-i-imp-ly, ha-a-aving a won-der-ful Christ-mas time!  agh that one is the worst~!~!~

Red Sovine’s Christmas song about a guy hanging himself in the bed of his semi because his wife left him is alright.  Any holiday song that ends in suicide has to be pretty okay, because I mean, let’s be realistic here.  That is a lot more likely an experience than any of those chestnuts about reindeer dashing through the snow, or warm fires, or buying gifts for children.

Oh wow, that wasn’t the only Christmas song he recorded.  Red Sovine, you magnificent truckin’ bastard:
“Sovine was also remembered for his Christmas tear-jerkers, which included “Here it is Christmas” (a divorcee’s holiday lament), “Faith in Santa” (a dialog between a poor, runaway boy and a sidewalk Santa), and “What Does Christmas Look Like?” (a little blind girl asks daddy to describe the Christmas that she cannot see)“

By the end of this season, I will have heard “What Does Christmas Look Like?”.   I promise you this.

You can take that to the bank, no matter the rates!

Oh, get this.  I was cleaning my car’s windows off from the ice and snow that had totally covered the entire thing, and I cut my wrist (WRIST!) open on a chip of ice.  Ice actually penetrated my skin, and cut my WRIST (WRIST!).  Very strange.  I hope the interviewer didn’t think I was some kind of cutter.  Those people are worse than animals.  On the bright side, now I understand why people hate winter.  I used to love it, but now I’m firmly in the autumn-only camp.   If wintertime means holiday music, cold air, sun still shining and blinding you, reflecting off the pure white snow, and your car being iced over to the point of almost causing your wrist to be severed, than simply:
Fuck winter.

TAKE THAT TO THE BANK AS WELL

twenty 00

happy birthday, me

i hope you enjoy your stuff and things!

christ, i can remember 1998.  seems like only yesterday.  Am I old?  Should I start worrying about fine lines and crow’s feet?  Out of the oily t-zone and into the crepe paper eyelids.  So it goes.

worst of it is, I’m now a member of a peer group that I don’t necessarily outperform.

;____(