I’m Not A Key Whisperer, Damn It!


So there was a lady in our store today that lost her car keys.  Some random chick stops me while I’m heading down the aisle to put something away, and she barks, “This lady has lost her keys!”, like, two or three times.  After I finished blinking at her for such astounding douche-iness, I walked over to the woman who was frantically digging in her purse in search of her keys.  I asked her what areas of the store she had been in.  She pointed to a couple places, then trailed off and resumed digging in her purse.  So I went to the areas she had pointed out and looked for keys.  When I didn’t find them in either place, I proceeded to walk through the entire store, checking the floors and glancing at the shelves and such.  No keys.  I realized I didn’t see or hear the key searcher lady anymore, so I went back to what I had been doing before the whole key fiasco.  A few minutes later, I hear the key woman on her phone, complaining that “I asked the workers for help but no one will help me find my keys!”  Now, I got a bit miffed at that, I must say.  First of all, I did try to help her.  Secondly, I AM NOT A DAMN KEY WHISPERER!  Working there does not give me some sort of super secret special key finding skills, for cryin’ in the sink!  It is not in my job description to keep track of your shit.  I have enough stuff to do, finding your keys is NOT on my list of daily duties.  Eventually, she did find her stupid keys.  All by her self even.  Good grief.

For your entertainment, I will now list some of the weird, annoying shit I encountered this evening: one maimed hot pink plush monkey (actually, I only found his poor little monkey arm, I never did find the rest of the maimed little monkey), yet another empty package signifying more M.I.A. glow-in-the-dark rubber-ish dog poop, one pajama set missing the pants, one pajama set missing the shirt (and no, they are not the same sort of pajama sets), one pair of toddler shorts that I am fairly certain is part of a set even though I couldn’t find the shirt, an empty package of car air fresheners, and the hidden stash of crap a very annoying child tried to hide away so he can make sure no one else gets it.  This particular child, and his mother, annoy the ever loving fuck out of me, you know, ’cause I’m kind of evil like that.  He’s always pestering everyone and whining and such, and his mom talks to us like we are her best friends/adoring groupies or something.  I really hate people.

Okay, so last night I was all social and such again.  Crazy, right?  Go me!  So anyway, I went and hung out with Tom and Noodle and Jess and Brian and Brenden and Zayah and Micah and Amy.  Rose and Jason were supposed to go too, but they clearly don’t love us, so they stayed home.  Once again, we ate lots of yummy food and then played Cards Against Humanity.  I love that game!  I learn something new every time I play, which makes me feel rather embarrassed and slick and such, since I didn’t know what these words or phrases or terminologies meant, which made me feel awkward, but I made sure to find out, which is totally slick and such.  I’m going to list a few of these little nuggets of awesomely awkward gold, but keep in mind, my friends are some sick and twisted folks.  So, here goes: Cleveland steamer, The rusty trombone, queefing, glory holes, and fleshy fun bridge.  I also found it rather delightful that I totally knew what autocannibalism would be, if it were a word, which apparently it isn’t, since the Webster site claims it doesn’t exist in any form.  Which is kind of bogus, seeing as it’s pretty much one of the most bad-ass terminologies ever.  I suppose it doesn’t matter what Webster says, since I make up words all the time anyway.  As for the stuff listed above, feel free to Google it, though I would suggest avoiding pictures and definitely stay away from videos.  Just sayin’.

Randomosity:  I don’t think I could ever pull off extensions.  I mean, my hair is pretty much one-of-a-kind and difficult and such, so I just don’t think I could ever get extensions that would blend in with it well enough to be believable.  I think i popped a stitch tonight, but I’m not sure, you know, ’cause i can’t see the top of my own head and all.  I have tried to catch a glimpse in the mirror, but all I manage to do is make my head hurt and my eyes feel all crossy and such.  I cannot wait until Tuesday so i can get these damn stitches out. I wonder, how is telling a girl she’s “thicker than a bowl of oatmeal” a compliment?  Because it truly sounded like the dude on this prison show meant it as a compliment.  Oh, apparently it means she has a big bahookey, but in a good way…or something.  I really loathe the person/people who came up with the whole mismatched socks are cool thing.  The idea of buying a package of socks that contains no matching pairs, is just insane to me.  I’m pretty sure that if I tried to wear mismatched socks, my eye would twitch so bad people would think I was having a seizure or something.  It’s just not right, y’all, socks are meant to match.  I really want to get Chloe the stuffed Olaf we have at work, but I’m fairly certain my sis would strangle me if I spent $20 on a stuffed snowman.  But it would make Chloe super happy!  I think I’ll have to give this some serious consideration.  I’m totally psyched to finish up this post, snag some supper, and snuggle in to watch tonights episode of The Walking Dead!

Over and out!


2 thoughts on “I’m Not A Key Whisperer, Damn It!

  1. longchaps2

    I have to say, you DO have some nuggets of awesomely awkward gold and they are dang funny. However, if my husband said that I was thicker than a bowl of oatmeal, well, I would have to kill him deader than road kill, lol.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s