Sonic

Sonic has changed their mints. They are now softer, almost like butter mints. Don't get me wrong, I love a butter mint. But I miss the old Sonic mints. Everytime I get my .99 chicken finger sandwich and my large Diet Coke, I feel bitter that I have to round it out with a mint in wolf's clothing.

Jeans

Though I have not written in awhile, I assure you, there are still things that are making me mad. I've just been to busy to jot them down.

But now that classes are nearly over, I've found the time to document my most recent anger inducing moment.

And it's...drum roll please....newly washed jeans. You get your hair done. You get your make up on. You feel like you're looking good. And then you go to pull those jeans out of the dryer and put them on. Now good sense has told you not to dry your jeans in the dryer, but it was an emergency. You needed them. You didn't have time to wash them and then hang them to dry. And so there you have it. You threw them in the dryer. Only now, as you try to squeeze your what now feels like the fattest ass in the world into them, you remember why you don't put your jeans in the dryer. Your muffin top protrudes out of the top. Those jeans that two days ago fit you fine, were maybe even a little on the loose side, now barely button. You bend. You stretch. But try as you might, those suckers aren't budging. They are tight as can be.

And so the girl whose reflection you saw in the mirror five minutes ago, the pretty one, has now turned into the fat, uncomfortable one in the too tight jeans.

Damned dryer. It's been the culprit that's ruined many a night out.

Coupon lady

I am a fan of coupons. I use them whenever possible to save a penny here and there. So, I say this with the utmost respect. Stupid lady in your Escalade, wearing Ugg boots, and carrying the Gucci handbag-- was it really necessary to show up at the grocery store, two days before a snow storm, and fill up your grocery cart, not only in the basket, but also the little shelf that's on the bottom? Apparently, it was. And I can get over that. Really, I can. But it was 5:30, which is one of the busiest times of the day. So, it became much MORE annoying when you had--no joke, folks--$140 worth of coupons. And get this, it wasn't a double coupon day.

So, of course, the twenty minutes I stood behind you while the cashier rang through $140 worth of .50 coupons was annoying. But the icing on the cake? Yep, that was when your last coupon for twenty five fucking cents would not go through and you held up the line for ten more minutes while the cashier called over three other people to try to figure out how to get your stupid ass coupon to go through. I'm sure your saving that .25 is what's helped you get your Escalade, but 5:30 PM two days before a storm is not the time to fuss over .25. If I were not wearing my work name tag, I might have punched you in your face and then pegged you in the head with TWO quarters just to get your fat hiney out of line.

Winter Snow

Yes, jerk face. I can see you have a big ol' truck, hummer, SUV, whatever. I know you think you can navigate the icey roads with the speed and ferociousness of a big jungle cat. But guess what? You can't. Just because you have big tires and a nut sack hanging from your rear bumper doesn't mean your wheels are unaffected by the ice. So, when you go whipping around me, I get anxious. Since your car is also bigger than mine, it's much more likely to kill me if we wind up in an accident. So, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't act like a tard ass and slow your roll.

However, I must admit, that when I see you go speeding past me, and then slide into a 4 foot snow drift and get stuck, a special light goes on inside of me that causes me to smile.

Toilets

I know people who start new businesses that have bathrooms in them--you know, like restaurants, boutiques, etc. think it's really cute to put funny things on the doors. You've seen it. When you go to Mexican restaurants, for example. Instead of "Men" and "Women" they'll put "Caballeros" and "Mujeres." Now, lucky for me, I speak a little Spanish, so I can figure that one out.

But sometimes, I have no fucking idea what is on the door to the bathroom. And so, when I have to pee, and I'm in a hurry to get back to my hot plate of just served food, it really annoys the shit out of me to have to try to figure out which bathroom is for women and which one is for men. The worst is when people think it's cute to put those little symbols on the doors--you know, the one that differentiates men from women based on whether or not their is a plus sign underneath the circle? I sure as hell can never remember which one is which.

And just because I'm eating in a German, French, Italian restaurant, doesn't mean I know your fucking language. So, your cute shit on the doors? Yeah, it's not so cute. I don't like feeling like an idiot when I have to ask someone who works there which restroom I'm supposed to use.

One of these days someone is going to take a piss right in the hall way out of frustration. Call me stupid, I don't care. Going to the restroom should be simple. Stop with the cutesy pie shit. Please.

Exercise equipment

I have only myself to blame. I am so anxious to cover up the time on the cardio machine with my magazine or my towel, I forget to make sure the time is actually going. Nothing sucks more than busting your ass for what seems like 30 minutes only to look at the time and find out your stupid ass machine didn't register when you hit the start button and it actually hasn't even been calculating how long you've been on. The double zero staring back at me always makes me really pissed off. Because then I have to actually push the damned button and start again.

Okay, maybe there are some things that suck more. But it's still pretty shitty.

Cell phones

Contrary to popular belief, there is not a cone of silence that surrounds you every time you use your cell phone. It's like some people think that as soon as they hit that "talk" button, they are in their own special world where their conversations cannot be overheard. And so it goes like this...

Dear WT lady,
I know I'm in the thrift store, and I know it's not the best part of town. So, I came prepared to deal with a little bit of ghetto. However, I do not care what type of shit is going to hit the fan when whoever in the hell you are talking about shows up to pick you up. I don't care that you don't feel well. Apparently, neither does the person on the other end of the call, because you've now repeated yourself five times. They aren't listening. Get a clue. I am mildly curious as to why, if you feel like total shit and just don't know if you can make it to said outing, you feel good enough to go to the thrift store and dig through germ infested clothes. Tip for the future to you, if you are going to say you are too sick to go somewhere, you may not want to tell them you are hanging in the thrift store at 10 AM. It doesn't make sense. It's a good thing most of the people in here appear to be speaking Spanish, because hopefully they don't understand what you are saying, and I am one of the few people who is having to listen to your stupid public tirade. I am quite certain, though, that regardless of the spoken language, if you are in the United States, you understand the word "fuck" especially when it is being shouted repeatedly inside Bargain Thrift. You are ruining my shopping experience. If I wanted to hear your personal business, I would make an effort to get to know you personally. Right now, all I want to do is pay for my shit and get out of the damned store, because I cannot stand to hear you say you don't want to deal with the aforementioned shit hitting the fan because you (again) do not feel well. Apparently, someone didn't learn to use their inside voice.

Love,
the lady carrying the Gucci bag and Prada shoes who is shopping at the thrift store

More about drivers

I swear, I do not understand. Why in the hell do people who are in the wrong give the finger when you honk your horn? For example, someone is changing lanes and almost hits your car. You toot your horn to say, "Hey, I'm over here already. Please don't hit me." Then, they give you the finger and yell some obscenity as if it's your fault you were already in the lane.

Excuse the hell out of me for getting up this morning and occupying the lane you want to move into. I wasn't aware you owned the whole fucking road. Had someone told me, I would have made sure to keep an eye out for your vehicle. As it stands now, I am seriously contemplating playing a version of roller derby with my car as you speed past me with your middle digit stuck up in the air.

Apparently, I am one of the few people left in the world who actually feel bad when I almost hit someone, because I'm not paying attention. I appreciate their horn honk telling me not to get over, because without it, I might have rammed them, causing expensive damage to both their car and mine. That little "toot toot" allows me to get to work on time instead of wasting thirty minutes waiting for police, tow trucks, and exchanging insurance information.

Maybe mouthing the F word and waving an obscene gesture in the air is their way of saying thank you.

Taco Bueno

You know what really chaps my hide? It's a Monday, and I'm leaving my eight hour day to sit in a three hour lecture class, and I'm starving. I have to get something to eat on my way to class, or I won't get dinner until 8 PM, and that makes me cranky. Very cranky.

So, I order a mini quesadilla from Taco Bueno. (I try to be sensible when I eat fast food so I don't have to listen to my Mom tell me my ass is fat). And guess what? Guess what I get? I get a tortilla wrapped around shredded cheese. Is it melted? It surely is not. It's just a bunch of shredded cheese wrapped in a flour tortilla. WTF is this? I didn't order a tortilla filled with cold shredded cheese, you assholes. It doesn't take quantum physics to make one of these suckers. I know, because I can make one at home, and I can't cook shit.

The really ugly part of this story? I'd driven away before I realized I had this nasty so called quesadilla. And I didn't have time to turn around to "cause a stink" as my husband calls it. Perfect end to a Monday work day!

Excuse Me

What the hell ever happened to people saying excuse me? I've just spent six hours at the great state fair of Oklahoma, and while I was run over by strollers, stepped on, and bumped into by men who I assure you did not need one more turkey leg...I did not hear one single "excuse me."

I know the fair is full of white trash, but I thought even white trash had SOME manners. Even when I would say "excuse me" I would not get one in return. What is wrong with people? Common courtesy has flown out the window.

Makes me feel better for playing "naturally skinny or addicted to methamphetamine" while walking around and eating my corn dog.

Who wore it best?

So, let's talk about this delightful segment in US Weekly. In case you're not familiar, the segment takes 2-3 celebrities who have been photographed wearing the same dress, shirt, skirt, whatever. Then, some VIP *read intern* asks 100 people on the street which celebrity wore it best. People vote, and there you have it, one emerges a winner.

But here's the problem. Sometimes, those folks at Us Weekly, they don't play fair. Take for example this week's competition. A gorgeous royal blue dress featured on both Mary Hart and Giuliana Rancic. Now, Mary Hart is a good looking lady. And she's and especially good looking lady for someone who's 60. But Giuliana Rancic is 35. She has a body that looks 25 years younger than Mary Hart's. Why don't you just put Betty White in the same dress you put on Kim Kardashian and then see who wore it best?

Really? Do you even need to ask that question? Who's going to vote for the old lady in the dress unless she's up against another old lady in the same dress? Just a totally unfair competition. Must have been a barren week for duplicate dress wearing celebrities for them to come up with that one.

Toilet Paper

Hey cleaning guys. I work in an office with twelve women. Leaving two rolls of toilet paper once a week in the bathroom isn't going to cut it. Those wind up gone in the first 48 hours, and then I'm wiping with a rough ass paper towel.

School Zone

Hey asshole, school started back last week. So, you know those little squiggly lines on the road and that sign that says 25 with the flashing yellow lights? That's a school zone. Sometimes, you go 20 in the school zone and sometimes, you go 25. But I don't know of a single school zone where you go 40.

So, I don't appreciate you riding my ass while I roll by at 25 and then pulling into the lane next to me and putting the pedal to the metal after you give me your middle finger and look at me like I'm the dumb ass who doesn't know what in the hell is going on.

You pissed me off first thing in the morning, partially by being an idiot, but more because you were trying to act like I should have been riding the "short bus" instead of driving, and you were clearly the one in the wrong. So, even though I know you did not get a ticket in the school zone, because I saw you speed off thinking you were all that, I hope you got a ticket later on in the day. If for no other reason than you ruined my morning.

Jet Blue

So, let’s talk about this Steven Slater. If you don’t recognize his name, he’s the Jet Blue guy who went nuts, deployed the emergency exit slide, grabbed two beers, and got the hell off the plane AFTER he said the F word to a customer and basically quit via PA system on the plane.

Some are touting him as a hero, and some are saying those people who are touting him as a hero are being ridiculous. I can bet you the people who don’t think he’s a hero have never, not one single time, worked in a customer service industry. Because you know what? If you’ve ever dealt with customers on a regular basis, you’ve wanted to tell someone to F off about five hundred times. Hell, it’s likely you’ve wanted to punch someone in the face. Steven Slater probably took the high road by not punching the guy in the face.

But I think the point is missed. I heard some guy on the news talking. He was telling about how, now, people are out in the world deciding how they are going to quit their job. They are planning their own exit. He referred to a girl who said that the next rude customer she encountered was going to get a roach on top of their hamburger (where in the hell can you just come up with a roach?) and then she was going to walk out. This guy says that what Slater did was encourage people to act like fools and disrespect customers.

But what about the customers who disrespect workers? I’ve worked in customer service all my life, and I have been treated horribly by people who are total idiots. They are rude just to be rude. They think because I work in the customer service industry, I’m a loser—I couldn’t get a better job, so I started working in retail. And therefore, they should treat me like I’m a total imbecile. I’ve even had people throw shit at me. Yes, it has happened.

And guess what? Most of the stuff people want to yell and cuss at me about? It’s their own fault—they’ve overdrawn their bank account going to the casino or their now deceased parents didn’t plan their estate properly and their kids can’t get money out of their account. Or it’s something I can’t control anyway, so regardless of how much they complain, I can’t do anything about it.

In this case, someone didn’t follow the rules. And they got called out. Sounds like they deserved it to me. It makes me mad that everyone questions the results, but nobody questions the actions. I think people should recognize the ridiculous attitudes people have toward people who work in customer service.

Kudos to Steven Slater for not taking it anymore! Just because you serve the public doesn’t mean you should lay down and take it up the ass every single day.

Inception

Sometimes, when I watch a movie that doesn't have a definitive ending, I wonder if the writer/director/producer just couldn't decide on an ending or if they really wanted to annoy the audience. It annoys the hell out of me. I like an ending. One that is all wrapped up with a bow on top. Anything else just makes me mad.

M&Ms

It makes me really mad when I get a peanut M&M that has no peanut in it. Ruins my whole day.

Gift cards

I appreciate a gift card. Who doesn't? But can you take the extra five seconds to write the effing amount on the line on the inside? It will save me the five freaking minutes trying to pull up the website, find the right area to check the balance, type in the forty digit number, and scratch off the security code. I don't understand why nobody ever writes the amounts on the gift cards. I'm not trying to be an a-hole, but I'd rather not have the $25 gift card than have to look all of the shit up.

*This is not intended for those nice friends of mine who like to give me gift cards and always write the dollar amounts on the little enclosed cards. Please, keep THOSE coming.

Goodwill

So, I'm out shopping at the Goodwill. It's my normal weekend ritual. I have my discount card and everything. I've found a few items, and it's time to try them on. At this particular Goodwill, there is a row of dressing rooms with closet type doors that lock. You can't see feet or anything below them. They are always shut all the time.

I go down the row and discreetly turn the knobs to see if the doors are locked. If they're locked, someone's in there, and I go to the next one. Simple, right?

Nope. Some asshole was standing mostly naked in his dressing room and didn't lock the door. So, when I turned the door knob, it opened. It was only about three inches, and all I saw were this man's legs and his tightey whiteys. But he starts screaming in the store about who opens the door without knocking and what not. I told him the door had a lock, and if he was too stupid to use it, then that wasn't my problem. His wife or girl friend or whoever then starts yelling at him and asking him why he didn't have the door shut.

Apparently, he must have really thought I wanted to see his business, because he kept bitching the entire time he was in the dressing room. I had to let him know...look buddy, I have a husband, so I can look at his business all I want to, and he's thinner and younger than you are. It took all I had not to punch his 50 year old ass in the face. Or the junk.

I don't think he was exhibiting the attitude that Goodwill is all about. Stupid people should not be allowed out in the world. Not even for shopping at the thrift store.

Garage Sales

You know what is really annoying? I LOVE garage sales. True, that might be the annoying thing, like to my husband, but that's not to what I'm referring, at least now. Anyway, I LOVE garage sales. When I can, on Saturdays, I map out a route. I pick garage sales that are Saturday only so they aren't already picked over from Friday, and I stagger them based on start time so I get to hit a few right when they start. What else do I look for? Well, I look to see if they're selling craft supplies or designer clothes or things I might be interested in buying. But those are few and far between, so next I look at garage sales that are multi family or are advertised as huge.

So, when I get there, you know what I expect to see? I expect to see a HUGE garage sale. If you say your garage sales is five family, I expect all five families contributed a good amount of items to your sale. Unfortunately, a good lot of the time, it looks like the families contributed about ten items a piece, which really pisses me off. What, do you think if you get me there, I'm going to buy something? It's not the mall. When you only have two tables with some bric-a-brac on them, that's not going to cut it. You've just wasted my time. I could have been at the Jewish temple stocking up on the good stuff! Instead I've wasted 30 minutes, my gas, and for what? A BIG FAT LIE! A FALSE ADVERTISEMENT! A-HOLE GARAGE SALE LIARS!

The movie theater line

How is it the movie theater gives so many good topics for posting on my blog?

My husband and I went to see Kick Ass yesterday. It was the first Saturday it was out, and we went to the last movie time in the afternoon before the prices went up. So, of course, I'm anticipating that it's going to be busy. I'm not a crazy person. I know when you go to the a widely publicized movie on the first Saturday it's out, in the middle of the afternoon, it's going to be a mob. I sent my husband for seats and I went for the popcorn, soda, and a hot dog.

The line was long. There were two cashiers (annoying enough), and the line was about six people deep per cashier. I stood in line for close to twenty minutes. I have to assume the people in front of me stood in line for just as long. So, the lady before the lady in front of me gets to the front and stands there for several minutes looking at the billboard trying to decide what to choose. Seriously, what in the hell were you doing for the twenty minutes or ten minutes or even FIVE minutes you standing in line. You're by yourself, so you weren't talking to a buddy. You weren't on your cell phone. Pretty much all you had to do was look at the menu up at the top and choose what size popcorn and soda you wanted. Even with the newer fancy stuff like hot dogs and nachos, it's not like it's a complicated menu.

I wanted to push this lady to the side and tell her to get back in line when she knew what she wanted. Of course, I didn't, because that might either get me beat up or arrested for assault and battery. And I wanted to see the movie. But it still made me really mad.