I hate when being out in the garden center means I miss all the interesting stuff at work.
Like the woman who, built like a brick shithouse (Sweetie's term, not mine) goes and has improvement surgery. I can't imagine how she stays upright if they're bigger than they were.
I have it on fairly accurate authority that they are, indeed, bigger. Was a steel rod implanted along her spine to keep her upright?
Don't get me wrong, I don't want to see them flopping out-and-about (as we are all afraid will happen with someone else). But like rubbernecking at a trainwreck--or in the wake of Cry Me A River's latest drama--I can't help but want to have a good look at 'em.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
Oops! I Forgot!
The Cry-Me-A-River update:
A week or so ago, she was in to the store on her day off. Of course, she brought her spawn, and probably hung out in the breakroom with them for at least an hour.
Anyway, when she left, she was following another employee out of the parking lot. The light was red, but he did the smart thing: he stopped, looked, then made his right hand turn. CMAR? She just followed him out. Never looked at the light, never bothered to stop, didn't even expend the effort to LOOK to see if anything was coming.
She got T-boned (yes, kids in the car.) Oh the DRAMA! She did break her arm and of course, an ambulance was called. Kids were A-OK, because God watches over fools and little children.
The kicker? Turns out she doesn't have a license, either.
A week or so ago, she was in to the store on her day off. Of course, she brought her spawn, and probably hung out in the breakroom with them for at least an hour.
Anyway, when she left, she was following another employee out of the parking lot. The light was red, but he did the smart thing: he stopped, looked, then made his right hand turn. CMAR? She just followed him out. Never looked at the light, never bothered to stop, didn't even expend the effort to LOOK to see if anything was coming.
She got T-boned (yes, kids in the car.) Oh the DRAMA! She did break her arm and of course, an ambulance was called. Kids were A-OK, because God watches over fools and little children.
The kicker? Turns out she doesn't have a license, either.
Rainbows and Boobsies
Sing it to the tune of "Raindrops on Roses" from the Sound of Music.
As we all know by now, it's Spring, and of course, we have a new crop of doosies at work.
Rainbow Brite: the hair color alone is enough to make your eyes water, but the her wardrobe! Oh. Em. Gee. It's like a really bad acid trip--the COLORS! THE COLORS! She matches up her not-occuring-in-nature Gawd Awful Red hair dye with light blue glowing shoes and a lovely shade of kelly green pants. Add the company issued vest in bright red and blue, and you've got yourself one eye-watering, migraine-inducing ensemble.
We also have Cry-Me-A-River Junior: She's pregnant, dopey, and lazy. Has nothing to talk about except the kids. Oh, and sooner or later, one of those cantaloupes is gonna burst forth outta that low buttoned blouse of hers and just roll all up and down the aisles. What kills me is that her tits are about as appealling as the Hag's ass cleavage...and yet, there it is, and there it will stay. Management is so myopic that they can't see it unless you point it out to them.
Oh, and Cry-Me-A-River? She thinks she's pregnant again!
As we all know by now, it's Spring, and of course, we have a new crop of doosies at work.
Rainbow Brite: the hair color alone is enough to make your eyes water, but the her wardrobe! Oh. Em. Gee. It's like a really bad acid trip--the COLORS! THE COLORS! She matches up her not-occuring-in-nature Gawd Awful Red hair dye with light blue glowing shoes and a lovely shade of kelly green pants. Add the company issued vest in bright red and blue, and you've got yourself one eye-watering, migraine-inducing ensemble.
We also have Cry-Me-A-River Junior: She's pregnant, dopey, and lazy. Has nothing to talk about except the kids. Oh, and sooner or later, one of those cantaloupes is gonna burst forth outta that low buttoned blouse of hers and just roll all up and down the aisles. What kills me is that her tits are about as appealling as the Hag's ass cleavage...and yet, there it is, and there it will stay. Management is so myopic that they can't see it unless you point it out to them.
Oh, and Cry-Me-A-River? She thinks she's pregnant again!
Friday, April 16, 2010
More Than Enough
There's more than enough weirdness floating about for a 2nd full moon.
Seriously. Full moons mean weirdness--happy weirdness, but weirdness just the same. New moons generally mean grumpy weirdness, sometimes out-and-out mean weirdness.
But, aside from that summary of a years-long study in human behavior in public places, currently, the weirdness factor around me has increased for no discernable reason. Dunno why. If you do know why, please let me know.
Case in point: yesterday, I had to type in a customer's credit card number. Part of that process, for the card holder's security, is that we are to also type in the zip code on the account, and the security code on the back of the card. Normally, this is no problem, because you ask the person for the zip code on the account, and they simply rattle off their phone number, then realize what you asked and they tell you their zip code. Yesterday's dude grunts at me, "Same as yers." I asked around: everyone else thought that was weird, too.
Today's case in point: My Sweetie's personal use cellphone rang (he doesn't take it with him while he's working) Voice says, "Hey, dooya know who tis is?"
I reply: No
Voice: You mean you don't recgehnize me?
Me: No
Voice: mumbly sorts of sounds that may be a person's name
Me: WHO?
Voice: mumbly sorts of sounds that may be a person's name
Me: I do not know you.
Voice: *laughs* sure sure. mumbly some more
Me: I do not know you.
Voice: you mean you don' rememer mumbly sounds that may be someone else's name
Me: No. I do not know them either.
Voice: you sure?
Me: I do not know you, or them.
Voice: What about Fred Shoemaker?
Me: No. I do not know him
Voice: Who is this?!
Me: NOT WHO YOU ARE CALLING.
Voice: mumble sorry mumble
*click*
The phone rings 2 minutes later, or the equivalent amount of time it takes for Mrs Mumbly Voice to tell him what an idiot he is and redial the wrong number.
In a flash of postively psychic foreknowledge, I answer: Hello?
Mrs Voice: Is this FRED SHOEMAKER?
Me: No. Not even close.
*click*
For the record, we've had this number for over a year. And a final note: Angie, I didn't know you two years ago when you started texting me, I still don't know you...and quite frankly, if you're too stupid to STOP TEXTING ME when I FINALLY break down and send you a message back that I am not who you think you are texting please check the number!!!!! (yes, readers, I spelled every blessed word out to be sure she didn't use the wrong vowels and screw up the message) don't desist for 10 months then start texting me again. I am not amused, and you're gonna cry soon if you don't take the hint.
Seriously. Full moons mean weirdness--happy weirdness, but weirdness just the same. New moons generally mean grumpy weirdness, sometimes out-and-out mean weirdness.
But, aside from that summary of a years-long study in human behavior in public places, currently, the weirdness factor around me has increased for no discernable reason. Dunno why. If you do know why, please let me know.
Case in point: yesterday, I had to type in a customer's credit card number. Part of that process, for the card holder's security, is that we are to also type in the zip code on the account, and the security code on the back of the card. Normally, this is no problem, because you ask the person for the zip code on the account, and they simply rattle off their phone number, then realize what you asked and they tell you their zip code. Yesterday's dude grunts at me, "Same as yers." I asked around: everyone else thought that was weird, too.
Today's case in point: My Sweetie's personal use cellphone rang (he doesn't take it with him while he's working) Voice says, "Hey, dooya know who tis is?"
I reply: No
Voice: You mean you don't recgehnize me?
Me: No
Voice: mumbly sorts of sounds that may be a person's name
Me: WHO?
Voice: mumbly sorts of sounds that may be a person's name
Me: I do not know you.
Voice: *laughs* sure sure. mumbly some more
Me: I do not know you.
Voice: you mean you don' rememer mumbly sounds that may be someone else's name
Me: No. I do not know them either.
Voice: you sure?
Me: I do not know you, or them.
Voice: What about Fred Shoemaker?
Me: No. I do not know him
Voice: Who is this?!
Me: NOT WHO YOU ARE CALLING.
Voice: mumble sorry mumble
*click*
The phone rings 2 minutes later, or the equivalent amount of time it takes for Mrs Mumbly Voice to tell him what an idiot he is and redial the wrong number.
In a flash of postively psychic foreknowledge, I answer: Hello?
Mrs Voice: Is this FRED SHOEMAKER?
Me: No. Not even close.
*click*
For the record, we've had this number for over a year. And a final note: Angie, I didn't know you two years ago when you started texting me, I still don't know you...and quite frankly, if you're too stupid to STOP TEXTING ME when I FINALLY break down and send you a message back that I am not who you think you are texting please check the number!!!!! (yes, readers, I spelled every blessed word out to be sure she didn't use the wrong vowels and screw up the message) don't desist for 10 months then start texting me again. I am not amused, and you're gonna cry soon if you don't take the hint.
Wednesday, April 07, 2010
Cryptic
We got home from visiting the Sweetie Fam for the holiday, to find a cryptic message from my sister:
Light Bulb blew
Sat. 11PM 4-3-10
Apparently, it was up to us to figure out which one it was to replace it.
Light Bulb blew
Sat. 11PM 4-3-10
Apparently, it was up to us to figure out which one it was to replace it.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Chuck Full o'Stupid
IT'S SPRING! And you know what that means...yeppers! The crazy, the stupid, and the reality challenged are out en masse. And coming to see me.
Case in point:
Guy, aka Chuck Full o'Stupid, walks up to me and sez, "I got a question for ya."
Me: Sure
Chuck: Would you know if you carry those doors you put in fences?
Me with a blank look: Doors in fences?
Chuck: Yep. Those doors you put in fences so, like, yer dog can go in and out?
Me choking back evil cackle: Would you mean a GATE?
Chuck, understanding lighting up his face: Yanno, I think that is what they're called.
Case in point:
Guy, aka Chuck Full o'Stupid, walks up to me and sez, "I got a question for ya."
Me: Sure
Chuck: Would you know if you carry those doors you put in fences?
Me with a blank look: Doors in fences?
Chuck: Yep. Those doors you put in fences so, like, yer dog can go in and out?
Me choking back evil cackle: Would you mean a GATE?
Chuck, understanding lighting up his face: Yanno, I think that is what they're called.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Stop Me If You've Heard This One
So, way back in January or so, after I joined Time Suck Central, I got a friend request from a person I knew way back in college (1986 or so.) She's not someone I was close with, and in all honesty, she was a classic insecure shrew. She cost me friends, people I still miss terribly. And she made me doubt my own sanity. And no matter what I did, she managed to still be there, sucking my life dry of the things and people I enjoyed.
Don't take this the wrong way, but I didn't wish bad things to happen to her (okay, after the first two years or so of not having any contact with her in any way, I mean,) I just really really NEVER wanted to have to look at or think about her again. With her waving like a loon to get my attention, I HAD to think about her, and I got to rethink all about how much I didn't like her. All over again.
On the first request, I hit ignore without thinking about it.
On the second request, I thought about it for a while, then hit ignore.
On the third request, I also received a message from her. Ugh. I can't just hit ignore.
Crap.
Her message was written from the POV that we had simply lost touch with each other. And with the premise that she wasn't a whack job from whay back.
I wanted to just reply "who are you, and how would I know you?" But my Inner Bitch was screaming, even after 20 years, for retaliatory brutality. I didn't cave. I consulted a very wise woman who recommended not going passive-aggressive, nor aggressive-aggressive. Just be honest.
"I don't recall liking you very much when I knew you. I really don't want to be friends."
God, I LOVE that. It should be available on a t-shirt. Really.
That's what I replied. Exactly that. And, oh my! the insanity that lunged at me! I got back what was the single most beautiful attempt at subtle manipulation I've ever encountered. Lil' Miss Must Be Friends had been practicing.
A parried that attempt as well. "Thank you for your reply. It confirms that I made the right decision." hit home. Must've, because what I got in response was an out and out pouting tantrum, AND a block.
Hell, I didn't know you could set a block, even on Time Suck Central, that would remove you from even mutual friends lists. Make you totally invisible.
And oh, how I laughed then! It was the single BEST moment of being on Time Suck Central.
I did the mature thing. I posted my status as "I attract the freaks and nutbars even in the virtual world. So nice to know."
I was unblocked within two hours, so I'm guess that the Olympian contender Whack Job Gold definitely should be hers.
Don't take this the wrong way, but I didn't wish bad things to happen to her (okay, after the first two years or so of not having any contact with her in any way, I mean,) I just really really NEVER wanted to have to look at or think about her again. With her waving like a loon to get my attention, I HAD to think about her, and I got to rethink all about how much I didn't like her. All over again.
On the first request, I hit ignore without thinking about it.
On the second request, I thought about it for a while, then hit ignore.
On the third request, I also received a message from her. Ugh. I can't just hit ignore.
Crap.
Her message was written from the POV that we had simply lost touch with each other. And with the premise that she wasn't a whack job from whay back.
I wanted to just reply "who are you, and how would I know you?" But my Inner Bitch was screaming, even after 20 years, for retaliatory brutality. I didn't cave. I consulted a very wise woman who recommended not going passive-aggressive, nor aggressive-aggressive. Just be honest.
"I don't recall liking you very much when I knew you. I really don't want to be friends."
God, I LOVE that. It should be available on a t-shirt. Really.
That's what I replied. Exactly that. And, oh my! the insanity that lunged at me! I got back what was the single most beautiful attempt at subtle manipulation I've ever encountered. Lil' Miss Must Be Friends had been practicing.
A parried that attempt as well. "Thank you for your reply. It confirms that I made the right decision." hit home. Must've, because what I got in response was an out and out pouting tantrum, AND a block.
Hell, I didn't know you could set a block, even on Time Suck Central, that would remove you from even mutual friends lists. Make you totally invisible.
And oh, how I laughed then! It was the single BEST moment of being on Time Suck Central.
I did the mature thing. I posted my status as "I attract the freaks and nutbars even in the virtual world. So nice to know."
I was unblocked within two hours, so I'm guess that the Olympian contender Whack Job Gold definitely should be hers.
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