Once again, I am forced to share some stories of stupidity encountered at work and in other not-home places. First off, if a store closes at 9, and you enter the store at 5 minutes to 9 (and the poor souls working there tell you that the store will be closing in 5 minutes), for the love of all that is holy, GET YOUR SHIT AND GET OUT! (That Walter is a genius! And, for you sadly uninformed folks out there, Walter is part of Jeff Dunham’s act. If you don’t know who he is either, find out!) We want to go home, damn it! We do not want to repeatedly inform you of precisely how long the store has now been closed, and we sure as hell do not want to refrain from choking your dumb ass when you act like it is amusing that you are finally checking out at 9:frickin’15! 9:15! Seriously? What the hell? On what planet is that acceptable, let alone amusing??? The next rant concerns smelly people. Now, I know this may seem rather harsh and unfair and what not, but the truth of the matter is, I just don’t give a shit how it sounds. See, I do not hone in on the offensive stinky person and inform them that they are offending anyone with olfactory senses and suggest that they vacate the premises before they cause some poor innocent bystander to vomit. I don’t even make overly expressive facial expressions, such as vomiting-pantomime or dramatic nose-plugging or anything of that sort. I just discreetly skidaddle out of their general vicinity and continue about my business. But for the love of Pete, if you even suspect that you reek like rotten roadkill or raw sewage baking in the summer sun, please please please do not continue on with your shopping! Go home, freshen up, THEN resume your errands. The length of time a truly atrocious stench lingers is unbelievable. Okay, so one last little snark I simply must share–when a cashier asks you how you’re doing, they definitely do not want to every bizarre-o detail of your Jerry Springer-worthy existence. Please do not tell the poor cashier how you caught your boyfriend with your best friend’s neighbor’s friend’s cousin’s dog or that you are trippin’ balls and you’re now concerned that our sign is sending messages to passersby about you or that you have a terrible yeast infection and possibly an STD you probably got from your cheating boyfriend oh and by the way, you need a pregnancy test. When a cashier, or any other stranger, asks how you’re doing, simplicity is a good rule of thumb. Oh, and this is for anyone interacting with people in public places, it is never, ever, okay to ask a woman if she is pregnant simply because she looks a tad pudgy. And definitely do not explain the pregnancy question by elaborating numerous times that you thought she was since she has a really noticeable belly when she turns to the side. Never. Ever. It’s rude and hurtful, so don’t do it. Ever. (Gawd, I would die of embarrassment if someone did that to me…then I’d probably beat them over the head with something…or burst into tears over how disgustingly fat I must be. It could go either way, really.)
So we got in a new kind of candy at work, and I am completely and utterly delighted by it’s name! They’re called–Kazoozles! Which is just the greatest candy name EVER! Go ahead and say it! KAZOOZLES–it is just an awesome name! It’s fun to say and, added bonus, it’s a Wonka candy! Now for the sad news: it is a texturally heinous, slimy bit of ickiness, in my opinion anyway. Of course, I do have some seriously whackado issues with food textures. I loathe all things gummy or slimy or generally icky feeling: gummy worms, gummy bears, fruit snacks, fruit roll-ups, gushers, Jell-o, licorice, etc etc etc. Which led to much internal warfare during my childhood, since it seemed like everyone else just loooooved fruit roll-ups and gummy creatures and all that, while I just could not make myself like these yucky creations. But I really really wanted to like them, and they smelled so yummy and all my friends acted like they were kid-crack or something. So I repeatedly tried to choke them down, resulting in gagging and spitting and such. The endless misery they caused certainly didn’t help their case any either. Where was I going with this again? Oh yeah, Kazoozles. So I think maybe most folks would maybe dig them, but I’ll just stick with admiring the name.
Randomosity: I’m fairly sure I broke my tooth tonight…when I sneezed. Only I could sneeze and end up with a broken tooth. In case you’re wondering how, precisely, one goes about breaking a tooth by sneezing, I shall explain. You see, when I sneezed, I was caught totally off guard, so it was a completely unrestrained sort of sneeze, which somehow made my teeth clack together rather hard, which apparently broke my tooth. I say apparently because, though it kinda hurts a tad more than a bit, no pieces of my tooth are forthcoming. I figure that will happen before I can get in to my dentist though. Perhaps I will leave a message with their answering service folks to see if I can get in as soon as possible. Great white sharks are kind of super awesome and totally amazing. It’s exceedingly fascinating that babies are born without kneecaps. I wonder why beta fish hate each other so much. I wonder if I should make business card sorta things with my blog address on them, then leave them in random places, like those folks from the church near here that leave church cards all over our store and Walmart and such. LMAO…my cat totally just scared the crap out of himself! He was walking past the foot of my bed, and lightly brushed against the bed leg thingy, growled(ish) and jumped about 4 inches off the floor and turned and stared at the bed leg thingy all indignant and suspicious and snarky. It was highly entertaining! I remember the time my buddy Caron decided she was going to get a tan…from the lamp in her living room. She slathered her arms with baby oil and tilted the lamp shade and parked herself there, bound and determined to get a tan from the light bulb. I, of course, sat back and enjoyed the whole stubborn show. Oh, and Caron, I was telling someone about the Jiffy Pop incident and they acted totally shocked that we attempted the whole campfire preparation thing, and then they thought it was hilarious that we were surprised by the result! Like no one ever disregarded warning labels before! And besides, how were we supposed to know it’d flame up like that? They didn’t mention THAT in the warning, now did they?? And it wasn’t our fault that we were allowed to attempt camping without supervision! I mean, why the hell would anyone ever trust us to survive in the wilderness on our own? I mean, remember those bathrooms? Egads they were terrifying! And the fellows at the campsite next to us were no help, those laughing buttheads! Do you still have Jibba-Jabba? I really should try to get some of these movies I borrowed watched. And I should actually try to Netflix a bit, since I am paying for it and all. Dude, this chick just got her ass mostly chewed off by a shark! How awkward would that be?? I wonder if she got butt prosthetics? I assume so, since she is having reconstructive surgery done on her butt and all. Probably it will be implants though, rather than removable cheeks she’d have to put on every day…which is good, cuz how weird would it feel to sleep without your butt?