Seismic activity within the rear end of Jon's Jeep finally required help. Many things led to this. Firstly, Jon's giggling whilst hitting bumps on Michigan's pot-hole infested paved roads. He knows I'd yell at him for doing this in my car which has a much stiffer suspension, and does not handle bumps nearly as well. Also the age of the Jeep and the shocks and allllllll those many 200,000 plus miles. Basically once the seismograph graduated from funny small action shaking to---Holy Shit--What WAS That?--he had to try to avoid as many pot holes as possible. He was nearing a 10 on the Richter Scale, because when it got to shaking as though the entire rear end was going to give, he couldn't really control the Jeep...and this would happen, most of the time, where there was no visible pothole.
Funnily enough, I diagnosed bad shocks while it was still in the baby earthquake stage because I could think of nothing else that would make it behave this way. The mechanic agreed. Hmmm...maybe I am in the wrong profession? But, I do NOT however, have enough patience or aptitude with tools to become a mechanic. I get agitated and annoyed and tend to throw things around.
Ruth's Jeep is suffering from the same condition. I told her what to have fixed while riding with her the other day. I noticed the rear end shaking, asked if the road right in that area normally did that, and noticed she applied the brake. She said, no, its a Jeep Thing....lol. She thinks cars are magic...and to a large degree, I believe she is correct. Her Jeep is still in baby earthquake stage; but it will only get worse from there.
TSC Corporate decided our store needs to move freight day to Thursday/Friday and feed day to Tuesday. I have no idea why. So this week has been plenty screwed up at work. Oh, yay, a backroom full of freight on a weekend. Well, corporate knows best, or so they think. To compensate for the movement of the freight truck, we got dual trucks this week...a day apart. I moved 5 pallets of dog food on Tuesday and 5 pallets of dog food on Thursday. Then I had to help fill feeds on Thursday because the backroom had been so filled with freight for three days that no one had been able to replenish livestock feeds.
I also took a stupid "Town Hall" survey for TSC so they can, I don't know, clean up their act or something. The questions were dumb, multiple choice questions with simplistic answers. I would have preferred multiple choice with a line to explain my answer. None of the answers seemed to apply.
"Do you feel valued by your employer?" A. Very B. Somewhat C. No Opinion D. No
What do these kinds of questions really solve? There were no lines for suggestions. I know I would feel more valued if I were paid a liveable wage for the amount of work I do. I moved 10 dog food pallets and probably two full pallets of livestock feed, plus answering questions, cleaning, and using the cash register. A pallet of livestock feed weights 2,000 lbs. A pallet of dog food can weigh more or less than 2,0000 lbs depending on the size and number of bags present. At least 3 of the dog food pallets I worked were double pallets...meaning I should count them as 2 instead of 1 but I never do. I do 2 to 3 times MORE work than most of the people I work with, yet I earn only about 25 cents more an hour. (Which is classified information and I am not to know the wages of my co-workers on the grounds that I could be fired.) A company that is really striving for excellence, and is unafraid of investigations based on paying fair wages without discrimination based on race, gender, or age, would not have such a policy since there would be nothing to hide. TSC is NOT such a company.
I believe this survey is Corporate's stupid, passive-aggressive way of trying to fool their employees into believing that they care while gathering no real information on how to improve their company.
One day soon, customers will avoid TSC the same way they avoid WAL MART. People shop at TSC to avoid Wal Mart, believe it or not. I wonder if Corporate is aware of that fact? Doubt they even care.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Blah, and I finally work toward...a day off
Things that happened to me today:
1. I got hit on by a married man WHILE his wife AND daughter were present. I told Jason I thought I was going to have to bash this joker with a stick. Jason just said he thought the guy knew me. I said, no, that he's a regular customer, I don't know his name and I used to think he was just a pleasant customer. Um....no....he's a douche bag who trolls with a kid and a wife in tow.
2. I managed to convince a man on the phone that I did, in fact know what a solenoid is, what it does, and then proceeded to look up the part number he needed, and no, we don't carry it...but he didn't yell at me in exasperation or anger that he couldn't get it instantaneously...he merely....thanked me. Nice, for a change.
3. I helped an old man find the correct battery, then got yelled at for not wielding a magic wand that instantly makes items tax exempt since it was for a farm tractor. The guy then decided he'd try his luck at Wal Mart. I told the new Amber (I now work with two Ambers, a Crystal and a Christa...man, how, confusing) that he would be back as Wal Mart does not stock those sort of batteries...and laughed when he came back in to buy the battery---with tax.
4. I was yelled at by a nasty old man named Bob who somehow believes that I can give large discounts willy-nilly because so and so gets a discount. Um...no. I told him he'd have to speak with Tim, because HE is the boss and it would be between him and Tim. I also explained that the 10 percent coupon is NOT stackable with the 5 percent discount for buying a pallet, which further enraged him. Jason told him the same thing. He does not like Jason. He then said to cancel his order and that he would be taking his business to the Howell location. I said, sure, cancelled the order, and THEN he bought dog food and ect from me....what the hell? I thought he was taking his business to the Howell location?!?!!!! If I never have to see him again, I'll be thrilled. The manager at Howell is less flexible than Tim or Jason or Lorien....good luck, you wrinkled old asshole. Do you NOT understand that we could ALL be FIRED for doing what you want? It's against policy and ethics. Yeah, I WANT a 50% off get out of jail free card for all my groceries for the rest of my life...pretty damn sure that's never going to happen, but I WANT ITTTT!!!!!!
5. A pit bull rescue came to the store, unannounced (they usually cancel so we never expect them) so I had to listen to Day 2 of dogs barking from the backroom...the beagles were yesterday. Jason had to tell the guy to keep the back door closed (it's an audit and shrink issue and we could, again, be fired for leaving it hang open) and he was none too pleased that Jason said to keep it shut or the rescue will be setting up in the parking lot the next time. Sorry, you are allowed to be at our location, but you have to follow our rules...just the same as if you were staying at someone's house.
And so ends my six day straight work week. So thankful it is at an end. I really thought about just wandering off during my shift, never to return. In a perfect world, I would be able to afford the luxury.
1. I got hit on by a married man WHILE his wife AND daughter were present. I told Jason I thought I was going to have to bash this joker with a stick. Jason just said he thought the guy knew me. I said, no, that he's a regular customer, I don't know his name and I used to think he was just a pleasant customer. Um....no....he's a douche bag who trolls with a kid and a wife in tow.
2. I managed to convince a man on the phone that I did, in fact know what a solenoid is, what it does, and then proceeded to look up the part number he needed, and no, we don't carry it...but he didn't yell at me in exasperation or anger that he couldn't get it instantaneously...he merely....thanked me. Nice, for a change.
3. I helped an old man find the correct battery, then got yelled at for not wielding a magic wand that instantly makes items tax exempt since it was for a farm tractor. The guy then decided he'd try his luck at Wal Mart. I told the new Amber (I now work with two Ambers, a Crystal and a Christa...man, how, confusing) that he would be back as Wal Mart does not stock those sort of batteries...and laughed when he came back in to buy the battery---with tax.
4. I was yelled at by a nasty old man named Bob who somehow believes that I can give large discounts willy-nilly because so and so gets a discount. Um...no. I told him he'd have to speak with Tim, because HE is the boss and it would be between him and Tim. I also explained that the 10 percent coupon is NOT stackable with the 5 percent discount for buying a pallet, which further enraged him. Jason told him the same thing. He does not like Jason. He then said to cancel his order and that he would be taking his business to the Howell location. I said, sure, cancelled the order, and THEN he bought dog food and ect from me....what the hell? I thought he was taking his business to the Howell location?!?!!!! If I never have to see him again, I'll be thrilled. The manager at Howell is less flexible than Tim or Jason or Lorien....good luck, you wrinkled old asshole. Do you NOT understand that we could ALL be FIRED for doing what you want? It's against policy and ethics. Yeah, I WANT a 50% off get out of jail free card for all my groceries for the rest of my life...pretty damn sure that's never going to happen, but I WANT ITTTT!!!!!!
5. A pit bull rescue came to the store, unannounced (they usually cancel so we never expect them) so I had to listen to Day 2 of dogs barking from the backroom...the beagles were yesterday. Jason had to tell the guy to keep the back door closed (it's an audit and shrink issue and we could, again, be fired for leaving it hang open) and he was none too pleased that Jason said to keep it shut or the rescue will be setting up in the parking lot the next time. Sorry, you are allowed to be at our location, but you have to follow our rules...just the same as if you were staying at someone's house.
And so ends my six day straight work week. So thankful it is at an end. I really thought about just wandering off during my shift, never to return. In a perfect world, I would be able to afford the luxury.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Child Hate
I don't like kids. I might even...hate kids.
So why is this such a controversial idea? I assume it has something to do with the fact that I am a female and I don't have mothering instincts. I also believe quite strongly in natural selection. So if your child is an idiot and is stupid enough to wander in front of a moving car, then it deserves to die. So does an adult if the adult is stupid enough to wander in front of a moving car.
I think conservative people feel threatened when challenged with ideas that seem so far "out of the box" to them that they can't even relate to the idea.
I also don't believe in God. Any God. Chew on that. I happen to think that life is what you make it, and then...you die... and that's just it, you're dead. Nothing. This is a LESS controversial issue than my dislike of children. I find this quite puzzling. But, then, I have always been less than traditional.
Families have no more or less rights than anyone else. Oh, you can't work at night because you have kids? Eh, well, do you want a job or don't you? My parents worked various shifts. Why? Because they WANTED a job. Didn't matter if it was night or morning. They wanted to be able to feed their kids.
My parents have always known I don't like kids. This does not surprise them, nor do they care. They have always been fine with it. It's who I am.
I don't discriminate against folks with kids.
I don't torture children.
I don't go out of my way to make people with children miserable.
I just don't enjoy or like or PRETEND to like children.
I am entirely genuine.
Why is that so offensive and I quote "unprofessional?" I only make $8.96 an hour. Want me to be more professional? Pay me what I'm worth. I can run the store. I can work the freight truck nearly single handedly. I believe this is worth at least $17 an hour. I can barely pay my bills. Why should I give a flying fuck about brat children that parents can't or won't control? I am not the only person working retail who believes this. My assistant manager also believes that children should be checked at the door if they can't behave.
I have the following suggestion. Substitute the word "cabbage" for "children."
Would these people be as offended at the statement: "I hate cabbage." Or "People who can't control their cabbage shouldn't have any.."
So why is this such a controversial idea? I assume it has something to do with the fact that I am a female and I don't have mothering instincts. I also believe quite strongly in natural selection. So if your child is an idiot and is stupid enough to wander in front of a moving car, then it deserves to die. So does an adult if the adult is stupid enough to wander in front of a moving car.
I think conservative people feel threatened when challenged with ideas that seem so far "out of the box" to them that they can't even relate to the idea.
I also don't believe in God. Any God. Chew on that. I happen to think that life is what you make it, and then...you die... and that's just it, you're dead. Nothing. This is a LESS controversial issue than my dislike of children. I find this quite puzzling. But, then, I have always been less than traditional.
Families have no more or less rights than anyone else. Oh, you can't work at night because you have kids? Eh, well, do you want a job or don't you? My parents worked various shifts. Why? Because they WANTED a job. Didn't matter if it was night or morning. They wanted to be able to feed their kids.
My parents have always known I don't like kids. This does not surprise them, nor do they care. They have always been fine with it. It's who I am.
I don't discriminate against folks with kids.
I don't torture children.
I don't go out of my way to make people with children miserable.
I just don't enjoy or like or PRETEND to like children.
I am entirely genuine.
Why is that so offensive and I quote "unprofessional?" I only make $8.96 an hour. Want me to be more professional? Pay me what I'm worth. I can run the store. I can work the freight truck nearly single handedly. I believe this is worth at least $17 an hour. I can barely pay my bills. Why should I give a flying fuck about brat children that parents can't or won't control? I am not the only person working retail who believes this. My assistant manager also believes that children should be checked at the door if they can't behave.
I have the following suggestion. Substitute the word "cabbage" for "children."
Would these people be as offended at the statement: "I hate cabbage." Or "People who can't control their cabbage shouldn't have any.."
Monday, July 30, 2012
Stealing Copper/Amish Population
Really boring day off with me sleeping 9 hours due to menstral cramps, popping meds for the cramps, the exhaustion that goes along with it and mowing the in-laws' yard and earning $20...and being alone. I never see Jon anymore. He's always at work...or I am. Then Jon comes home for an hour, we eat something tasty then he informs me he's heading to his other mistress, Shane's house. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't really care, but hey, I've seen the man a total of one hour a day all week...and yesterday was his day off, during which he changed the oil in my engine but I saw him....maybe 5 hours all told as he was running errands and such and talking to his mom. (I don't mind sharing him with his mom, she's going through something and I'm not sure what.)
Then I go outside once he leaves to dump some trash in the recycle bin and a guy walks over.
"Hi. I'm Jerry. Jerry's son." He indicates the nice house next door that's been empty since March. "Someone broke in and stole the plumbing out of the basement, did you see anything?"
Oh, shit. My blood just runs cold. "No, no, I didn't. That's awful."
We have a brief conversation in which I promise to call the cops if I see anything suspicious at all. I verified that the realtor drives a blue GMC SUV and that the kid that mows the lawn has a white glass repair van. I already knew that this Jerry is driving his dad's special black Caddy we nicknamed the Batmobile before he died. That old man was soooo excited to get that car, he acted like a ten year old and it has so many gadgets on it (Old Jerry explained them to us in great detail) that it really was the Batmobile, at least to us poor folk.
I come back inside and phone Jon.
He HAS seen something over there. Two guys in an escort messing with the central air. I keep him on the line and hand him to Jerry. They talk.
And I am alone again. Waiting for Jon to come home. I don't feel safe here. A few months ago the neighbor girl's car was stolen. Now, the other neighbor's plumbing a/c and furnace coils have been stolen...probably, all while we were home. And we are the house in the middle. I've always thought we have nothing really worth stealing. But, then, we do have plumbing, cars, and a furnace. And we'd be crippled if any of those things went missing or broken.
I want out of this neighborhood. No down payment, no nothing. And probably no one would want to buy this crap shack with its shaky plumbing and other issues--most of them less serious. Plus, we'd have to sell it to be able to move elsewhere....leaving it vulnerable to break-ins.
Sigh. I hate being ghetto adjacent. Three years ago, we weren't ghetto adjacent. Now, however, we are.
This sounds better.
I want to go back to my roots. Funny, Jon prefers my roots even those these urban roots are his. He'd rather live with the cornfields and the cows than the people.
Too many people, too much anonymity. I lived in a very small community. When someone was robbed, there was an 80 percent chance someone recognized the culprit. Why? Because to know where we lived and to know our habits, you had to frequent the area. And country people don't miss too much. They know each other's cars, work habits and just patterns in general. When someone suspected something wrong, you'd get a direct phone call or a visit...and that neighbor would be toting some sort of firearm--just in case. Why? Because it the sheriff managed to find the address--an hour later (it would take about that long for them to drive there) it would be too late to do much good.
My family unfortunately had some experience with the county sheriff taking forever and my dad arming himself and me with various guns while we were waiting and the culprits were running about the area near our house after wrecking their truck into the ditch next to our driveway. Scary shit. All while the corn was 10 feet tall..impossible to know where the bad guys were. Of course, they got away, but dad wasn't leaving us unarmed either.
Maybe I'll get really lucky and a cyclone will transport my house and its contents safely to a rather uninhabited area just like the Land of Oz.
Unrelated side note from back home: Amish in the U.S.
For the uninitiated, a "large" family for the Amish is at least 5 children...usually more like 8. But, hey, for all their inhumane treatment of their own family members, animals, and such, I never once caught any of them stealing copper plumbing. They DO commit crimes, mostly against each other. Weird, but true.
I'd still like to introduce a bunch of Amish into Detroit and see if they could turn the city into a big desolate farm. I really think they could. And I really think it would be an improvement. Maybe it would be a public service: Amish in Da Hood!
Then I go outside once he leaves to dump some trash in the recycle bin and a guy walks over.
"Hi. I'm Jerry. Jerry's son." He indicates the nice house next door that's been empty since March. "Someone broke in and stole the plumbing out of the basement, did you see anything?"
Oh, shit. My blood just runs cold. "No, no, I didn't. That's awful."
We have a brief conversation in which I promise to call the cops if I see anything suspicious at all. I verified that the realtor drives a blue GMC SUV and that the kid that mows the lawn has a white glass repair van. I already knew that this Jerry is driving his dad's special black Caddy we nicknamed the Batmobile before he died. That old man was soooo excited to get that car, he acted like a ten year old and it has so many gadgets on it (Old Jerry explained them to us in great detail) that it really was the Batmobile, at least to us poor folk.
I come back inside and phone Jon.
He HAS seen something over there. Two guys in an escort messing with the central air. I keep him on the line and hand him to Jerry. They talk.
And I am alone again. Waiting for Jon to come home. I don't feel safe here. A few months ago the neighbor girl's car was stolen. Now, the other neighbor's plumbing a/c and furnace coils have been stolen...probably, all while we were home. And we are the house in the middle. I've always thought we have nothing really worth stealing. But, then, we do have plumbing, cars, and a furnace. And we'd be crippled if any of those things went missing or broken.
I want out of this neighborhood. No down payment, no nothing. And probably no one would want to buy this crap shack with its shaky plumbing and other issues--most of them less serious. Plus, we'd have to sell it to be able to move elsewhere....leaving it vulnerable to break-ins.
Sigh. I hate being ghetto adjacent. Three years ago, we weren't ghetto adjacent. Now, however, we are.
This sounds better.
I want to go back to my roots. Funny, Jon prefers my roots even those these urban roots are his. He'd rather live with the cornfields and the cows than the people.
Too many people, too much anonymity. I lived in a very small community. When someone was robbed, there was an 80 percent chance someone recognized the culprit. Why? Because to know where we lived and to know our habits, you had to frequent the area. And country people don't miss too much. They know each other's cars, work habits and just patterns in general. When someone suspected something wrong, you'd get a direct phone call or a visit...and that neighbor would be toting some sort of firearm--just in case. Why? Because it the sheriff managed to find the address--an hour later (it would take about that long for them to drive there) it would be too late to do much good.
My family unfortunately had some experience with the county sheriff taking forever and my dad arming himself and me with various guns while we were waiting and the culprits were running about the area near our house after wrecking their truck into the ditch next to our driveway. Scary shit. All while the corn was 10 feet tall..impossible to know where the bad guys were. Of course, they got away, but dad wasn't leaving us unarmed either.
Maybe I'll get really lucky and a cyclone will transport my house and its contents safely to a rather uninhabited area just like the Land of Oz.
Unrelated side note from back home: Amish in the U.S.
For the uninitiated, a "large" family for the Amish is at least 5 children...usually more like 8. But, hey, for all their inhumane treatment of their own family members, animals, and such, I never once caught any of them stealing copper plumbing. They DO commit crimes, mostly against each other. Weird, but true.
I'd still like to introduce a bunch of Amish into Detroit and see if they could turn the city into a big desolate farm. I really think they could. And I really think it would be an improvement. Maybe it would be a public service: Amish in Da Hood!
Thursday, July 26, 2012
When Good People go Ga-Ga
Picture this, quirky, usually fairly rational people in a room, you've known three of them most of your life, and one for about five years. Enter a baby, four months old, drooling, cranky, stubborn and refusing to sleep because there are too many people to stare at. See the usually rational people suddenly not be able to carry on an adult conversation without suddenly lapsing into "ah, poor thing!" As if there were something wrong with the perfectly healthy baby other than she is sleepy. It makes for heaps of weird.
This happened to me when I went to visit my parents, who are, first time grandparents because I would rather perform a self-hysterectomy than have a screaming, pooping. drooling little drunk person in my house at all times. My brother was perhaps the most logical of the bunch. My sister in law has completely lost her mind. Staring at the kid with bug-eyes and talking to it as though she were "singing" along to a death metal song. I use the term "singing" quite loosely. Death metal is all about gutteral devil-sounding voices.
It was as though I'd fallen through the looking glass.
My dog, Emma, was quite terrified of the voice that made the baby laugh. I am quite sure that this baby is going to think people talking happily will be the worst thing ever--or that its mother is secretly professional wrestler John Cena...I don't know how to spell his name and I don't particularly care.
Just when I thought things couldn't become MORE weird, I came back from a bathroom break to discover the conversation had turned to my sister in law wanting to get the baby's ears pierced. What if she doesn't want her ears pierced? At least let her get old enough to decide on her own. My brother was particularly angry looking about the announcement. Apparently this had not been discussed before. Hopefully he can be the voice of reason and stop this nonsense.
I really don't want my niece being included in an episode of Toddlers and Tiaras.
Maybe next time I go visit my parents, we'll be discussing the merits of tramp stamps for toddlers.
Otherwise, it was a nice trip home. The dogs had happy run time and we got to get stuffed on Mom's cooking, and the local Mexican restaurant, which we miss. We didn't get to eat at our favorite pizza shop because it doesn't open on Mondays and it doesn't usually open until 4 pm and we needed to be heading back by then.
Jon started his new job at General Bearing yesterday. It's five miles from our house, which is good since he is driving that big V6...so not only will he be making more money, we will be spending less on gas. He says that his job is easy, could get boring, but that his employers were treating him as an actual person!!!! Never got that at Burger King. I know I much prefer the smell of his clothes. They just smell like grease, oil, and metal lubricant. Much much better than old burgers, stale fries and ass sweat. All in all, he had no real complaints yet. I'm sure that will change but since he is getting lots of overtime and steady hours that should help outweigh whatever the complaints will be.
This happened to me when I went to visit my parents, who are, first time grandparents because I would rather perform a self-hysterectomy than have a screaming, pooping. drooling little drunk person in my house at all times. My brother was perhaps the most logical of the bunch. My sister in law has completely lost her mind. Staring at the kid with bug-eyes and talking to it as though she were "singing" along to a death metal song. I use the term "singing" quite loosely. Death metal is all about gutteral devil-sounding voices.
It was as though I'd fallen through the looking glass.
My dog, Emma, was quite terrified of the voice that made the baby laugh. I am quite sure that this baby is going to think people talking happily will be the worst thing ever--or that its mother is secretly professional wrestler John Cena...I don't know how to spell his name and I don't particularly care.
Just when I thought things couldn't become MORE weird, I came back from a bathroom break to discover the conversation had turned to my sister in law wanting to get the baby's ears pierced. What if she doesn't want her ears pierced? At least let her get old enough to decide on her own. My brother was particularly angry looking about the announcement. Apparently this had not been discussed before. Hopefully he can be the voice of reason and stop this nonsense.
I really don't want my niece being included in an episode of Toddlers and Tiaras.
Maybe next time I go visit my parents, we'll be discussing the merits of tramp stamps for toddlers.
Otherwise, it was a nice trip home. The dogs had happy run time and we got to get stuffed on Mom's cooking, and the local Mexican restaurant, which we miss. We didn't get to eat at our favorite pizza shop because it doesn't open on Mondays and it doesn't usually open until 4 pm and we needed to be heading back by then.
Jon started his new job at General Bearing yesterday. It's five miles from our house, which is good since he is driving that big V6...so not only will he be making more money, we will be spending less on gas. He says that his job is easy, could get boring, but that his employers were treating him as an actual person!!!! Never got that at Burger King. I know I much prefer the smell of his clothes. They just smell like grease, oil, and metal lubricant. Much much better than old burgers, stale fries and ass sweat. All in all, he had no real complaints yet. I'm sure that will change but since he is getting lots of overtime and steady hours that should help outweigh whatever the complaints will be.
Friday, July 13, 2012
And More Idiots Came out of Nowhere
Ever hear of returning a defective item bought from a store, with no receipt and NO defective item? Yes, this happened. The customer was incredibly irate when the assistant manager and I told her this was just not possible. She threw a fit and called us to ask for the corporate phone number to file a complaint. Corporate must have told her it was company policy and that what she was asking was not possible because we received no email of doom from corporate telling us just how this customer's ass must be kissed.
Usually, its much like this:
I also witnessed the largest camel toe I have ever seen. My friend Jason's face turned green when this lady walked into the store and I decided I didn't need to notice anything. Ignorance is, sometimes, bliss. A snickering Brandon then told me it was a sight not to be missed....so I looked. Erm, wow, I thought about taking the woman to the full length mirror in the dressing room and asking if she saw what the rest of us were seeing.
It looked a lot like the Mariah Carey image on the right....except this woman was 80 pounds heavier. Jason said it was almost like he could do a gynecological exam without the woman needing to disrobe. This led to much snickering.
Wanted: full length mirror
This is pretty gross. It belongs on People of Wal Mart. I guess no matter how many stylists, hangers-on, and money you acquire, all of them are afraid to say "Hey, Mariah, you have camel toe!"
Today was Friday the 13th. I didn't even realize that until about an hour ago. I am not superstitious, but it was a day filled with crazies.
Minor crazies ask questions and expect me to know all about a certain weed killer and have apparently become illiterate the moment they step inside the store and for some reason think they need me to explain the merits of Roundup in some bizarre boring adult story time. Mixing instructions are on the label and its actually quite a thick booklet.
"And then Roundup killed everything it came in contact with. THE END."
Usually, its much like this:
I also witnessed the largest camel toe I have ever seen. My friend Jason's face turned green when this lady walked into the store and I decided I didn't need to notice anything. Ignorance is, sometimes, bliss. A snickering Brandon then told me it was a sight not to be missed....so I looked. Erm, wow, I thought about taking the woman to the full length mirror in the dressing room and asking if she saw what the rest of us were seeing.
It looked a lot like the Mariah Carey image on the right....except this woman was 80 pounds heavier. Jason said it was almost like he could do a gynecological exam without the woman needing to disrobe. This led to much snickering.
Wanted: full length mirror
Today was Friday the 13th. I didn't even realize that until about an hour ago. I am not superstitious, but it was a day filled with crazies.
Minor crazies ask questions and expect me to know all about a certain weed killer and have apparently become illiterate the moment they step inside the store and for some reason think they need me to explain the merits of Roundup in some bizarre boring adult story time. Mixing instructions are on the label and its actually quite a thick booklet.
"And then Roundup killed everything it came in contact with. THE END."
Saturday, July 7, 2012
The Deep South Visits Michigan
There were thunderstorms just in time for Independence Day; which, I am sure put a damper on some folks' holiday, but I counted it as lucky; considering Michigan just legalized Ohio-style fireworks so all the idiots were out playing with big boom sticks--even though the houses around these parts are 15-30 feet apart and the threat of fire in this very very dry summer would be quite high. So people in Michigan no longer are making border runs to Ohio to buy fireworks...I wonder if Ohio will now legalize Kentucky style fireworks--because all the Ohio people want the larger Kentucky fireworks. Seems the further South someone travels in America, the bigger the stick of dynamite it is legal to detonate. I wonder if this is somehow connected to the higher rate of illiteracy in the Deep South?
Back home in Ohio, there were bad storms. People without power for seven days in this oppressive heat and humidity. My parents were out of power from June 29 until July 5. Doesn't sound like a long time until you factor in nearly 100 degree temperatures and scads of humidity. They were lucky enough to be able to stash their food in my grandpa's freezer (he has a generator) so they didn't lose all of it. The worst part of losing power in the country is the water situation. Well pumps run on electricity--and take LOTS of it. No power, no water. My dad stockpiles water for toilet flushing and hand washing, but its not really good to drink stale water so they have to buy water or find someone with a strong enough generator to run a well pump. Most generators won't.
Here, it has been oppressive as well. Feels like I'm living in the Deep South instead of Michigan. The recorded high yesterday, according to weather.com was 99 degrees Fahrenheit. It is currently 93 degrees at 9 30 am. Emma, my gung-ho outside dog, doesn't even want to stay out there lately. Usually, she wants to be out there for hours, lately, she's itching to come inside where its cooler.
Jon and I have decided to take a little road trip to Ohio over his birthday...three days or so, just for fun. My parents are always willing, and since they don't mind animals in the house, dogs can go along. They have extra beds and, since I don't, they have only been here to visit us twice. Once after we moved, and once for our wedding. They don't much fancy sleeping on an air mattress on the floor--especially because my dad broke his back a few years ago and I think its still pretty painful. I never think of them as old, which I guess they aren't, but I don't think of them as their real ages either. Dad is 62 and Mom is 60. Somehow, for me, anyway, they stopped aging at around 40.
I love/hate going home. Family is always nice, sleeping on a comfy non-worn out bed is great (our mattress is shot and I don't want to go into more debt to replace it, I need to pay off my car repair first), but the things that have changed make for sadness. Like more development, less trees, that sort of thing. But the trip is usually fun and driving on winding roads is a treat. The curviest roads I drive on lately are Kensington Road, Grand River, and Spencer Road and none of them are THAT curvy. Plus, Spencer is gravel and one has to think about pedestrians, kids on bikes, and chickens in the road....which makes me smile and reminds me of home even though Spencer is twice as wide as the road my parents live on. To pass a Mack truck on my parents' road, the smaller vehicle pulls to the side as far as possible and STOPS to let the big thing pass. Sometimes, depending on the bit of road on which you meet, it can be pretty hairy.
Back home in Ohio, there were bad storms. People without power for seven days in this oppressive heat and humidity. My parents were out of power from June 29 until July 5. Doesn't sound like a long time until you factor in nearly 100 degree temperatures and scads of humidity. They were lucky enough to be able to stash their food in my grandpa's freezer (he has a generator) so they didn't lose all of it. The worst part of losing power in the country is the water situation. Well pumps run on electricity--and take LOTS of it. No power, no water. My dad stockpiles water for toilet flushing and hand washing, but its not really good to drink stale water so they have to buy water or find someone with a strong enough generator to run a well pump. Most generators won't.
Here, it has been oppressive as well. Feels like I'm living in the Deep South instead of Michigan. The recorded high yesterday, according to weather.com was 99 degrees Fahrenheit. It is currently 93 degrees at 9 30 am. Emma, my gung-ho outside dog, doesn't even want to stay out there lately. Usually, she wants to be out there for hours, lately, she's itching to come inside where its cooler.
Jon and I have decided to take a little road trip to Ohio over his birthday...three days or so, just for fun. My parents are always willing, and since they don't mind animals in the house, dogs can go along. They have extra beds and, since I don't, they have only been here to visit us twice. Once after we moved, and once for our wedding. They don't much fancy sleeping on an air mattress on the floor--especially because my dad broke his back a few years ago and I think its still pretty painful. I never think of them as old, which I guess they aren't, but I don't think of them as their real ages either. Dad is 62 and Mom is 60. Somehow, for me, anyway, they stopped aging at around 40.
I love/hate going home. Family is always nice, sleeping on a comfy non-worn out bed is great (our mattress is shot and I don't want to go into more debt to replace it, I need to pay off my car repair first), but the things that have changed make for sadness. Like more development, less trees, that sort of thing. But the trip is usually fun and driving on winding roads is a treat. The curviest roads I drive on lately are Kensington Road, Grand River, and Spencer Road and none of them are THAT curvy. Plus, Spencer is gravel and one has to think about pedestrians, kids on bikes, and chickens in the road....which makes me smile and reminds me of home even though Spencer is twice as wide as the road my parents live on. To pass a Mack truck on my parents' road, the smaller vehicle pulls to the side as far as possible and STOPS to let the big thing pass. Sometimes, depending on the bit of road on which you meet, it can be pretty hairy.
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