bump death

soupy sales
my grandmother
and now maybe morrissey
What a crummy week!
~really a terrible year, 2bh w/o lol

If anyone is interested in making a student documentary about awkward times, get in contact with me, because new science is coming in suggesting that I will be having the most awkward time in history for the next few days.

I could not even begin to beguine how over-the-top awkward this is all going to be.  Honestly, recoiling-style uncomfortable.  If there is one trait each and every person I spend time with shares, it is the ability to turn every situation into stony silence or just screams.  One thousand screams, two thousand saucer eyes.  I’m glad I can shirk pretty well.

fragile fings

gonna see the heck out of this movie

it looks so wonderfully overwrought AND MONIQUE ARE YOU YANKING MY CHAIN

wait a minute, wait a minute
Mariah Carey too?  and then Lenny Kravitz, inexplicably?  awesome awesome awesome

this is going to be 2 awesome 2 furious , but it’s 2 bad that it will probably only be shown in 2 theatres in 2 states

if you

I shouldn’t have quit my job.  I’m going to have no money.  It was a stupid idea, it isn’t like I couldn’t handle working.  I should’ve tried to find some other way to calm myself down, but I couldn’t–and still really can’t–think of any way that I find acceptable, or any legal way, or is a present option, or any way that also includes working…there.  Then again, it wasn’t THAT big of a deal to be angry.    It is alright, though.  I’ll just find a different job.  It isn’t like cashiering is a field that is no longer hiring, so feh.  It will be nice to have some weeks of no working though, and it isn’t like I have a ton of expenses anyway.

Hopefully I can find a place where people feel less comfortable sharing with me their opinions of anything above “my purchases look good”, “oh yes they certainly do excellent choice”.  That I am totally fine with; the sort of small, non-interactions we all share each day.  Anything above that and I start to get intense; one direction or the other.  I just don’t think I’m suited for non-authoritative interaction with other people–except, I suppose, people I agree with almost completely.  Not as few and far-between as you think, but further-and-further-between in this area, that is for sure.

Think what you want to think, I just hate to hear about it.  I’m really not tolerant of other opinions, unless I think they have some merit.  So, pretty much, anything that comes off as ‘uninformed’ or ‘from the gut’ just bundles my fists and furrows my brows.  I’m a dick, what can I say?

In the meantime, I’m just preparing for some nice downtime.  Lots of sleep, lots of reading of fiction, lots of sleep.  I don’t even want to hear about anything other than that, again, ever.

It is really going to suck not having any money, though.  I have what might end up being a large expense I’d like to engage later in the year, but that isn’t going to work if I…don’t have any money.   Sounds mysterious, when it is really just some perfume. :____(  How frivelous, I could actually easily just skip that.  Then I want to start school next year, but we’ve all (my own internal headthoughts, that is) heard this before.  This time I might bother to finish the application.  Costs 50 dollars to even grace community college with my application, though.  That is really ridiculous.  I don’t want to bother thinking about it, I just want to nap, be casual, take an unhurried shower with full use of a litany of productry, sleep very late and wake up only to prop up a pillow and read for a few hours, maybe drift back away.  Wake up eventually, tart myself up at my leisure if I want to leave (of my own volition and at my own pace ahhhhggghhh) watch some television, snark on the internet, drink a fine soda, and return to bed.

This online journal entry is also going to serve as my resume.
RE: Monster.com, in regards to my career
BODY: that stuff in a resume format pls
CC: coca cola , other large companies

i’ll take it

also, lame, but apparently I’m not moving for at least another year.  I got all excited about it, but I guess it serves me right; years ago (sounds so ancient right) when I had the opportunity to just stay forever in London, I told my dad I didn’t want to because I wanted to come back here.  For naught but annoyance, of course, I find out within months of return, but at the time it made sense.  Anyway, I made ruin of one awesome opportunity to move, it only is my own linens resurfacing if I don’t get a similar chance absconded by circumstance as well.  Doesn’t everybody want to leave their stupid place?  I wish it were as simple as just leaving.  I have no attachment here, except my family.  I’d be fine alone, anywhere, but I know how much they’d want me to be around.  I’m their only child, and we’re all just very close.  I’d just love to leave, it could be so easy.  I still have a work visa for the UK (for I think two more years, even), my grandmother and father are both technically now Canadian citizens, and through that, it may be made easier to just jet across the border…but they would never let me just leave.  Oh well, wherever you are, you are sometimes happy, and sometimes angry, so I guess it isn’t a big deal.   There are other factors of course, too, like finding a job wherever, a lot of the places I’d prefer to live are also quite a bit more expensive than where I am.  Maybe if I saved money, impossible now that I quit my job, but not forever, right?  Maybe if I saved money, left in the dead of night, and somehow just lined up some stupid job over wherever then maybe it could work.  Maybe it wouldn’t be worth that trouble, maybe it would be.  For someone who hasn’t even had the full initiative to finish an application for community college, I sure do have a lot of little plans about leaving the country.  How stupid.  I’ll never forgive myself for coming back here, for not taking the opportunity afforded to me once in a lifetime, just so I could spend a few boring months with people who were marginal friends at best, and barely graduate from a school that was easily interchangeable with any other stupid school across Earth.

Really, what did I want so badly that could only be found here?  If anyone is looking for a room-mate or a best pal or a wife or a husband (i will do it i swear dont test me) and you live in a suitable country, I have a few hundred dollars and a lot of opinions about Things.

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

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

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?

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

liggetari cafeterii

why did no one ever tell me that the word “lame” is offensive to people who are all disabled ‘n’ shit?

That just seems a little silly.  The word “lame” is never much used in a medical context anymore, I mean, I’ve yet to hear someone actually refer to another person as “lame”, in the sense that they have been crippled.

Idiot also used to be used as a medical term, just pretty much meaning simple-minded, or even profoundly retarded.  Either way, it is a word most of us feel comfortable saying.  It is a personal decision, of course, and I try to be respectful with my speech (thus the use of the word “lame” in the first place, really), but I think I’m just going to go ahead and continue to say this one.  I mean, seriously.

What about hobbled?  Can we say that someone is hobbling themselves, or an argument or point is ‘hobbled’?  Off-center, maybe?  I mean, some people are quite desperately asymmetrical, and I certainly wouldn’t want them to think I think them any less human than I.  Feeble still cool?

I do all the other considerate things, with regards to speech and discriminatory language, but I am really going to have to draw the line at lame.  What about lame duck?  What sort of word would possibly replace the glorious catch-all that is ‘lame’?

Faggy?  Gay?  Shit?  Retarded?  All much less…polite choices, to say the least.  When I run through the thought, “would I say this if a person that this word could be used to describe was standing right next to me?” and I definitely would still say lame in front of a person on crutches.   Wouldn’t even hardly notice.  I might not say “crippled” as a negative, but I sure as hell would say lame.  What an antiquated word to be used to describe an actual medical problem–I wouldn’t worry about it.

I mean, I can even “get” spastic, or spaz.  A little; the slightest bit.  Maybe I’m just not that sensitive to the problems of the disabled.

I suppose you could say they
fall
on
deaf
ears.

LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLD