Friday, April 30, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Skins
Bought The Kid a used drum set today.
And a pair of earplugs and a bottle of chardonnay for myself.
And a pair of earplugs and a bottle of chardonnay for myself.
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Friday, April 23, 2010
Grouchy Ass
Maybe it's because I'm unemployed (or perhaps because I'm raising a hellion on my own) but I've really lost my patience with people in the service industry who are rude to their customers. I always think, How do you have a job and I don't??? (Then I think, would I want their job? Hell no! But that's beside the point.)
Example 1: I had a doctor's appointment last week. When I arrived at the medical complex, I realized there had been a lot of construction since my last visit. The lobby had been moved to a completely different area of the building. I parked and walked in the new door...and was immediately turned around. Thankfully, I saw a desk ahead with the sign "Information" above it. Fantastic! I walked up with the universal look of "I'm lost" and the lady behind the counter asked, "How may I help you?" I said, "I'm turned around!" She titled her head down, peered at me over her glasses and dryly said, "You're in the lobby."
Really? REALLY? THANK YOU, CAPTAIN OBVIOUS.
I can understand if you hate your job. I spent the last four years hating my job...but taking your frustrations out on an innocent bystander is not the answer.
Example 2: I took my car to Wal-Mart (I know, I know....I'm just ASKING for stellar customer service there!) for an oil change because the little sticker on the inside of my windshield said it was time (three months ago.) I walked to the service desk only to find Reba McEntire's long-lost strung-out twin sister. After nicely stating that I would like to schedule an oil change, she CRACKed her gum, started typing on her computer and then asked me the make and model of my car.
"Jeep Commander."
CRACK!
"Um, it's the silver one out front."
CRACK! She peered up at me. "I'm still waiting for the make."
Rude! "It's a Jeep."
Tappity tap tap. "Not in my system. Who makes it?"
Seriously? You're the car people, and you're asking me who makes Jeeps??? I racked my brain and blurted, "Chrysler?"
Tap tap tap. "Nope."
Well, shit! Now I can't get my oil changed because I don't know who makes Jeeps??? It's a goddamn Jeep! Tell me you've heard of those??? She ripped off a Post-It note and stomped outside. I saw a mechanic walk by and said, "Excuse me, isn't Jeep made by Chrysler?" He said, "Yeah...though it may be under Dodge in our system."
When Reba came back, I peeked at her Post-It. It had "Jeep Commander". No shit? Is that what I drive??? And guess what? IT NEEDS ITS OIL CHANGED. The mechanic I spoke to earlier came up and suggested the Dodge option. Apparently she found it and scheduled me for the service.
(btw, I later asked if it was under Chrysler and she mumbled, "No, I found it under Jeep." However, the next guy in line had to call his wife to get his zip code and ended up giving Reba the wrong make and model of his car. She was a bit nicer to me when I checked out...I think I was the lesser of her evils at that point.)
Maybe I'm just a person who tries to make the best of things? If I'm going to be a fry girl at McDonald's then dammit, I'm gonna be the best fry girl they've ever had! During my last year in college, I had a job on the weekends demo-ing food at the local supermarket. Talk about humiliating - I had to wear a hairnet! But dammit...I MOVED SHIT! I was the top seller/demonstrator. I RAWKED that badass hairnet job!
(Unfortunately, I think that was my problem at my last job. I tried so hard to do my best and truly impressed managers with my work ethic...which made me a target for the catty old women who had been working their way up for 20 years. I should have just walked in that place with my BS degree taped to my forehead and started shouting, "VICTIM HERE!" That would have saved me YEARS of stress.)
My past experience with the hairnet (and the year I spent as an 800-number operator...and the two weeks I waitressed at an oyster-shucking bar in Florida, WHICH IS NOT AS GLAMOROUS AS ONE WOULD THINK) has given me a better perspective on shitty jobs. I can let a lot of bad service slide because I've been in that miserable place before.
As long as you don't catch me on a bad day. Then Lola comes out (she's my drunk alter ego. That tramp will drink EVERYTHING in my house on a bad night.) She rips into that McDonald's fry chick for her overcooked fries. "Yo! Babe! You dunked my fries in that old-ass grease one too many times. Your job is FRY GIRL. All you have to do is MAKE FRIES. This isn't brain surgery here. MAKE ME FRESH FRIES!"
Damn that Lola. But it's not totally her fault...she just doesn't understand because she's never had to work a shitty job. Or wear a hairnet.
Example 1: I had a doctor's appointment last week. When I arrived at the medical complex, I realized there had been a lot of construction since my last visit. The lobby had been moved to a completely different area of the building. I parked and walked in the new door...and was immediately turned around. Thankfully, I saw a desk ahead with the sign "Information" above it. Fantastic! I walked up with the universal look of "I'm lost" and the lady behind the counter asked, "How may I help you?" I said, "I'm turned around!" She titled her head down, peered at me over her glasses and dryly said, "You're in the lobby."
Really? REALLY? THANK YOU, CAPTAIN OBVIOUS.
I can understand if you hate your job. I spent the last four years hating my job...but taking your frustrations out on an innocent bystander is not the answer.
Example 2: I took my car to Wal-Mart (I know, I know....I'm just ASKING for stellar customer service there!) for an oil change because the little sticker on the inside of my windshield said it was time (three months ago.) I walked to the service desk only to find Reba McEntire's long-lost strung-out twin sister. After nicely stating that I would like to schedule an oil change, she CRACKed her gum, started typing on her computer and then asked me the make and model of my car.
"Jeep Commander."
CRACK!
"Um, it's the silver one out front."
CRACK! She peered up at me. "I'm still waiting for the make."
Rude! "It's a Jeep."
Tappity tap tap. "Not in my system. Who makes it?"
Seriously? You're the car people, and you're asking me who makes Jeeps??? I racked my brain and blurted, "Chrysler?"
Tap tap tap. "Nope."
Well, shit! Now I can't get my oil changed because I don't know who makes Jeeps??? It's a goddamn Jeep! Tell me you've heard of those??? She ripped off a Post-It note and stomped outside. I saw a mechanic walk by and said, "Excuse me, isn't Jeep made by Chrysler?" He said, "Yeah...though it may be under Dodge in our system."
When Reba came back, I peeked at her Post-It. It had "Jeep Commander". No shit? Is that what I drive??? And guess what? IT NEEDS ITS OIL CHANGED. The mechanic I spoke to earlier came up and suggested the Dodge option. Apparently she found it and scheduled me for the service.
(btw, I later asked if it was under Chrysler and she mumbled, "No, I found it under Jeep." However, the next guy in line had to call his wife to get his zip code and ended up giving Reba the wrong make and model of his car. She was a bit nicer to me when I checked out...I think I was the lesser of her evils at that point.)
Maybe I'm just a person who tries to make the best of things? If I'm going to be a fry girl at McDonald's then dammit, I'm gonna be the best fry girl they've ever had! During my last year in college, I had a job on the weekends demo-ing food at the local supermarket. Talk about humiliating - I had to wear a hairnet! But dammit...I MOVED SHIT! I was the top seller/demonstrator. I RAWKED that badass hairnet job!
(Unfortunately, I think that was my problem at my last job. I tried so hard to do my best and truly impressed managers with my work ethic...which made me a target for the catty old women who had been working their way up for 20 years. I should have just walked in that place with my BS degree taped to my forehead and started shouting, "VICTIM HERE!" That would have saved me YEARS of stress.)
My past experience with the hairnet (and the year I spent as an 800-number operator...and the two weeks I waitressed at an oyster-shucking bar in Florida, WHICH IS NOT AS GLAMOROUS AS ONE WOULD THINK) has given me a better perspective on shitty jobs. I can let a lot of bad service slide because I've been in that miserable place before.
As long as you don't catch me on a bad day. Then Lola comes out (she's my drunk alter ego. That tramp will drink EVERYTHING in my house on a bad night.) She rips into that McDonald's fry chick for her overcooked fries. "Yo! Babe! You dunked my fries in that old-ass grease one too many times. Your job is FRY GIRL. All you have to do is MAKE FRIES. This isn't brain surgery here. MAKE ME FRESH FRIES!"
Damn that Lola. But it's not totally her fault...she just doesn't understand because she's never had to work a shitty job. Or wear a hairnet.
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Foto Friday
The Kid has had a bad cold this week so at one point I let him sleep with me. You know those ads with the little girl curled up peacefully between her parents, everyone looking like a happy sleeping family? Yeah. You childless people go ahead and buy that load of crap (along with the pullup pants/constipation cure/sleep mattress they're selling) cause this is my reality:
Between The Kid and The Cat, I didn't get much sleep...at least until I went out to the couch.
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Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Life Sucks
If you haven't yet noticed, blog postings have been light lately - mostly because I think I'm going through a mid-life crisis. And not a man's mid-life crisis (which usually involves buying sports cars and dating trashy women half their age) but a WOMAN'S mid-life crisis (which usually involves vandalizing sports cars driven by men who are dating trashy women half their age.)
I'm not working and there aren't many jobs in my area. Couple that with my daily bipolar epiphanies, and you've got someone who resembles Charles Manson with PMS:
Monday: "We need to move somewhere that has more jobs/people/activities. That's it, WE'RE MOVING."
Tuesday: "The Kid doesn't want to leave his home. Why should I rip him away from the only home he's ever known just because I'm bored??? That's it, WE'RE STAYING."
Wednesday: "Screw The Kid. He'll get used to another home. I'm going nuts and am watching waaay too much reality tv. He'll adjust. WE'RE MOVING."
Thursday: "I'm a bad mother! I can't just pick up and move. We need to stick it out and try to keep the house. I'll find work eventually so...WE'RE STAYING."
Friday: "I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. ALL I KNOW IS I NEED A DRINK!!!!"
(Sequence above repeated weekly.)
Although sleeping in kicks ass and naps are da bomb, I've been doing it for over a year now. It's starting to get old. (Okay, the naps never get old...) Bottom line - I need to find something to do. Something that gets me out of my house every day...a reason for me to put on makeup.
So I will probably be in this nasty little rut until I find that reason. Hopefully I'll find something soon so I can bring back the funny...and stop the vandalizing.
I'm not working and there aren't many jobs in my area. Couple that with my daily bipolar epiphanies, and you've got someone who resembles Charles Manson with PMS:
Monday: "We need to move somewhere that has more jobs/people/activities. That's it, WE'RE MOVING."
Tuesday: "The Kid doesn't want to leave his home. Why should I rip him away from the only home he's ever known just because I'm bored??? That's it, WE'RE STAYING."
Wednesday: "Screw The Kid. He'll get used to another home. I'm going nuts and am watching waaay too much reality tv. He'll adjust. WE'RE MOVING."
Thursday: "I'm a bad mother! I can't just pick up and move. We need to stick it out and try to keep the house. I'll find work eventually so...WE'RE STAYING."
Friday: "I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. ALL I KNOW IS I NEED A DRINK!!!!"
(Sequence above repeated weekly.)
Although sleeping in kicks ass and naps are da bomb, I've been doing it for over a year now. It's starting to get old. (Okay, the naps never get old...) Bottom line - I need to find something to do. Something that gets me out of my house every day...a reason for me to put on makeup.
So I will probably be in this nasty little rut until I find that reason. Hopefully I'll find something soon so I can bring back the funny...and stop the vandalizing.
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Friday, April 16, 2010
Foto Friday
William and Zane channeling their inner Rey Mysterio. August thinking they're both nuts. I side with August...but am just happy they aren't channeling something worse. Like Lindsay Lohan.
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