Make me a bicycle, clown!

I am cranky today.  Cranky because people are not dependable.  Because people lie.  Because I feel like I have to do everything on my own.  Because people are rude.  Because I want a nap.  Because I need chocolate.  Because people expect too much of me.  And because I just haven't had time for myself.

I'm sure you were all dying to know.

Serious moment: Do any of you ever feel like that?  Am I alone here?

Maybe I'm just a big whiny baby today.  But that's okay because this is my blog and I can whine if I want to, dammit.

In an effort to cheer myself up, I have been listening to "Popular" from the Wicked soundtrack.  On repeat.  All day.

Since I know y'all are all on the edges of your seats about this, here is today's jewelry collection:

1.  Earrings: from a little boutique here in Greenville, mayme baker.
2.  Watch: the usual Michael Kors.
3.  Ring: grey druzy stone set in sterling silver, from Tennessee.

I wish I had funny stories or anything interesting to say, but I don't.  Quick...someone entertain me!

Wait!  I do have a tiny bit of funny I can share.  I was driving the other day and got caught in an awful storm.  I'm talking sheets of rain, hail, lightning, thunder, the works.  I saw this moron jogging in the midst of all of this.  He had obviously planned it because he was wearing goggles.  That's right, goggles.  People are special.

You've all probably stopped reading this by now anyway.

The End,
A

I'm getting a divorce.

From my Blackberry.  Sheesh, calm down.  If you knew me at all, you'd clearly know that I'm not married, or anywhere close.

I've been a Blackberry gal since 2008.  Granted, that's not a very long time, but I've gotten very used to them.  I started out with a Curve and then graduated to the Tour.  I have had terrible luck, especially lately.  My BB Tour has been freezing, crashing, not receiving calls, not making calls, erasing my calendar (aka my life), randomly sending text message in the middle of the night that just say "))))", and it won't recognize my memory card anymore.  I've seriously had it.  I decided last week, after some serious phone issues when I was out of town, that I was going for my upgrade.  I was selling my soul to Steve Jobs and will add an iPhone to my collection of Apple gadgets.  Not as easy as it sounds.

I called Verizon Customer Service to confirm that I was eligible for an upgrade.  (I had called right after my trip to Las Vegas and had to have a technician walk me through a hard reset on my BB to hopefully clear up my issues, but that just made problems worse.)  I explained the situation to the Customer Service rep and  he told me that since I was so close to my upgrade date (May 10) that they would waive the $20 early upgrade fee if possible and that I could definitely receive my $50 credit towards a new phone.  I was hesitant to make the decision over the phone and decided that I would much rather go into the local Verizon store to do the deed.  That way, I could walk out that day with an iPhone.  I had to fly Mommy Dearest down to Tampa for some surgery at the beginning of last week so I waited until I got home on Wednesday to go to the Verizon store.  I walked in and that's where the trouble started.

I talked to the girl working and explained the whole ordeal and that I was there to get an iPhone.  She immediately turned up her nose at me.  She told me that Android phones were the way to go.  She let me try a Droid there in the store and I didn't like it.  I kept hitting buttons that I didn't mean to and I just didn't really like the interface.  I guess I'm just used to my iPad and I want something that I'm familiar with.  Sue me.  I politely told her thanks but no thanks.  She rolled her eyes and then tried to tell me that I had to buy a case and a car charger.  Do I look dumb to you?  Don't answer that.  The truth is, I had already picked out a lovely monogrammed iPhone case from somewhere else and I had an iPod car charger so I was set.  She didn't like that answer.  After all of that, she told me that she couldn't give me my $50 credit but suggested that I call Customer Service about it.

I called Customer Service (again).  I explained the situation (again).  They lady tried to tell me that instead of a $50 credit, she could give me $50 in free accessories.  I politely explained to her that that would not work for me.  Instead of giving me my credit, she was trying to make me "buy" $50 worth of stuff I didn't want or need.  I finally convinced her to just put the $50 credit towards my next monthly bill.  The downside to doing my device upgrade over the phone was that they were going to have to mail it to me.  She guaranteed me that it would be on my doorstep the very next day.  I can handle that.  I went home and very impatiently waited for my package to come.

It didn't come.  That next night, I called Verizon to get a tracking number for my package.  I tracked the package and it was set for delivery on April 18.  That Verizon lady needs a new calendar or needs to learn her numbers or something; the 18th is not the day after the 13th.  Just sayin'.  I called Verizon to complain, because at this point, my BB was actin' a fool.  The male rep that answered told me that I could just go to my local store and get a phone and then mail back the one I ordered as soon as I receive it.  Sounds easy.  I drive my little fanny up to Verizon (again) and explain my story (again).  The rep in the store laughed at me and told me no way.  I'd been lied to yet again and I was not happy.

On Saturday, I tracked my package with FedEx and saw that it was at my local FedEx sort facility.  I called and spoke to a female rep and said that I might be able to pick it up that day instead of waiting until it was delivered, but I'd have to call back in a hour and check.  I waited.  I called back.  The new rep told me that I could not pick my package up and that Verizon does not pay for Saturday delivery.
I fully admit that I am an impatient person, but that's not the big issue here.  The issue for me was the constant lying from various Customer Service reps.  I was really grumpy about this.

But...I just tracked my package...and it has been delivered!!!  Tonight, I will officially convert from the BB world to Apple.  And it will be glorious.

Has anyone else out there had a terrible Customer Service experience lately?  Or am I the only one with this kind of luck?  Tell me, I want to hear! (And I want to know that I haven't lost all 6 of my readers due to my lack of recent posts.)

Tweet ya later,
A

Welcome to Vegas.

Dammit, Janet. I got an email from Bank of America this afternoon that there was suspicious activity on my debit card. I figured that it was just the fact that I'd used my card at the hotel here in Las Vegas and the purchase had been flagged because it was outside of my normal purchasing area. Not. Some asshole hacked my debit card number and had made some test charges. I definitely never charged anything to Club Quarters. I checked the entry in my online banking and called the telephone number listed for the vendor and something very unexpected happened. Thenumber was for the Pennsylvania State Police. I told them the story and informed them that some company was stealing my information and they were listed as the contact. Luckily, Club Quarters had only charged $0.80 ton my card as a test charge and my bank caught it before they stole all of my money. However, I now have no access to my bank account until I get a new card next week.

Nothing like being broke in Sin City.

A

Do they even make LA Gear anymore?

I have arrived in Las Vegas!
I had a quick 20 minute flight to Charlotte, NC and then o had about an hour and a half to kill until my connecting flight left. I decided to grab some food at Salsarita's Express. Bad call. It was crazy expensive and the food was awful. Luckily, there was a gelato place right by my gate, so I was able to end on a yummy note. When I looked at my seat assignment on my ticket, I cringed. I was in a middle seat on a full flight. Damn. I was sandwiched between 2 large men, and neither one of them smelled particularly fresh/pleasant. Double damn. Then the pilot announced that we'd be flying against headwinds so our flight would be about 40 minutes longer. Triple damn. Sheesh...I hope I have better luck once I get to Vegas, or I'm going to be losing all my money in the slots. Just kidding. Kinda.
The large man on my right kept to himself (except for the significant portion of him rear-end that occupied my seat). I can't say the same for the man on my left. First of all, let me paint you a picture: This man was wearing a white LA Gear sweatshirt, white cargo pants, and some serious gold jewelry. When the flight attendant came by with the beverage cart, he asked for tomato juice. But he pronounced "tomato" like toe-maa-toe, like a jackass. He had a nasally Northern accent, so that made it even worse. And the smell of the tomato juice just added to his unpleasant aromas. To top that all off, he kept complaining that there was no in-flight movie. There weren't even screens. I politely nodded and inserted my iPod headphones for the next 5 hours.
It's been a long day and I am cranky. Can you tell? The 3 hour time difference isn't helping much right now, either. And I'm hungry.

Goodnight lovers.
A

All of my clothes are made of girlfriend material. *bah-dum-ching*

Staying true to myself, I had an awkward Friday night.  Here's where you're supposed to act shocked.


Friday was my friend Mojo's birthday.  A big group of girls went out downtown to celebrate, but in true Mojo fashion, the birthday girl finally showed up around 11:30pm.  That's about the time that this carriage turns into a pumpkin.  While the BFFAE and I were waiting on Mojo and the rest of the group to get there, I decided to make my way up to the bar and order some drinks for us.  I'm standing at the bar, squeezed between a very large man and a very drunk woman, patiently waiting on my drinks and my change.  Y'all, that drunk lady started leaning all of her weight on me, and smushes me up against the large man.  Then, she starts petting my hair.  No ma'am.  Nice awkward way to start the evening.

Everyone finally arrives and we are all standing at the bar talking and watching the NCAA games highlights.  A sketchy looking dude with chrome-plated sunglasses comes up and stands near me.  I can feel him staring and I just know that he's going to try to strike up some awkward conversation.  I try to ignore him.  He's persistent.  "Excuse me, do they serve beer here?"  Really?  You just asked me if they serve beer in a bar. You can't do any better than that??  I can come up with at least five cheesy pick-up lines that are better than that.

1. Did it hurt? [Did what hurt?] When you fell from Heaven...
2. Do you work for UPS? [No, why?] Because I could have sworn you were just checking out my package...
3. If you were a booger, I'd pick you first.
4. I'm no Fred Flintstone, but I can make your Bedrock.
5. If I said I want your body now, would you hold it against me? {Thank you, B. Spears.}

Mojo decides that she wants to head to another bar.  Unfortunately, it's one of the shadier bars.  You know, the kind that isn't afraid to server minors with fake IDs.  That kind.  We run into her ex and his friends.  Oh, joy.  At last call, the BFFAE and I make our way to the bathroom.  We see this guy that looks really familiar and we realize that we went to high school with him.  He has always been on the goth side and a little socially awkward.  (This is where I up my level of awkward.)  We made small talk and he politely said goodbye and reached for the door to the Men's Restroom.  You know when you hear words coming out of your mouth and you know they shouldn't, but you just can't stop them?  That happened to me.  The BFFAE told him to have a good night, and I should have said something along those lines.  But I didn't.  What did I say? Have a good pee.

Yup.

Glad I got that off my chest,
A

Condiments are the key to living large.

Here is a conversation that I overheard in the checkout line at the grocery on Friday.  Enjoy!

Cashier:  You know, they always say that the grass is greener on the other side.  Greener than what?? [Smiling, pleased with his philosophical observation]
Customer: I know, man!  You know that them people on that other grass are probably eating the same crud we eat everyday.  It just might be a different color.
Cashier: Yea, but I bet they get honey mustard on theirs. 
Me: [dumbfounded stare]


I was wearing my giant "penny" necklace that day.  The cashier asked me if it was a real penny.  Now, we all know, dumb questions deserve dumb answers.  So...I told him yes.  He asked how I got it so big.  I told him I squeezed it really hard for a really long time.  He totally believed me.  Somewhere, that man is squeezing pennies, betting his buddies that he can make them grow.  (I'm a jerk, but I'm ok with that.)

And in case you've never stumbled upon these sites, you should click:
Overheard in New York
Overheard in the Office
Overheard at the Beach
Overheard Everywhere
Celebrity Wit

Better late than never,
A

Some people are cray cray.

I am on dumbass overload today.  I can't handle another stupid person.  Yes, I am cranky, but I am justified in feeling this way.  I started off my day by receiving a rude email.  Now I'm dealing with a potential client who changes her mind every two seconds.  Is it 5 o'clock yet?

Immediately after work, I'm heading to the gas station to fuel up, and then I'm heading to a dinner meeting.  I'm an advisor for my sorority and we are having a meeting at the Cracker Barrel tonight.  We are a classy group of ladies.  I hope there will be a lot of chewing and not a lot of talking.  I'm not really in the mood to talk.  But speaking of my sorority... Today is Kappa Alpha Theta's Founders Day!  I'm so happy to have my sisters as a part of my life!

Ok, you can stop gagging...the sappy moment is over now.

I almost forgot to tell you about yesterday!  Whew, that was a close one!  We have a older man that comes about every six weeks to wash our windows at the office.  He used to be homeless but he started his own window washing business and now makes a little living for himself.  He didn't strike it rich or anything, but he makes do.  He came in to my office to get the check I had for him and struck up a conversation with me.  I politely responded, while trying to focus on my work.  That didn't work.  He started telling me about his passion for astronomy and asked if he could show me some pictures.  Before I had a chance to respond, he whipped out his cell phone.  He started showing me pictures on his phone that he "took."  (By that, I mean he says he shot them but he really just took a picture of a picture in a book.)  He starts telling me that he took these pictures of the planets and constellations and that he'd seen God in the constellation Orion.  I'm not one to judge, and I believe that God presents Himself in different ways to different people, so I smiled and nodded.  He ran out to his car and brought me pictures that he claimed he taken and sent to NASA.  (Again, photos of photos in a book.)  He told me how he'd prayed to God to reveal Himself and pointed to the picture to show me where he saw God's face.  This whole discussion lasted for about half an hour.  I was alone in the office with Mr. Window Washer looking for faces in space.  Very interesting...

A close-up of the constellation Orion.  Apparently I'm supposed to see a dove and the face of God.

There's supposedly a rabbit and a little girl here.  He said something about the entrance to Heaven has something to do with children.  Clearly, I thought it was a little creepy.

Mr. Window Washer is a little cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, if you know what I mean.

*I wrote this post yesterday and forgot to hit publish.  Oops.

Well, that would have been embarrassing...

Let's take just a moment to talk about how poorly I type.  I'm quick, but not so efficient sometimes.  Most of my typos are things that Spell Check doesn't catch, as they are real words, just not what I meant.

For instance, I was just sending an email for my boss and I was signing it Kind regards.  What did I accidentally type?  Kind retards.  Wayyyyyyy wrong.  I caught it before I hit send.  Close call!  I've also mistyped the phrase get it as get tit.  I've sent that before.  Not cool, self.  I think my most frequent mishap is the word thanks.  99% of the time it comes out THanks.  As if I'm signing my emails like I'm Tom Hanks.

Amazeballs.  via {here}

In other news, today happens to be a fellow blogger's birthday.  Everyone head on over to black,white & everything else and wish Ashley a very happy 23rd birthday!  Can I come to your tea party?  Ashley wrote a lovely post about Copper Alley awhile ago, and I was thrilled.

Kind retards regards,

A

Return of the Exes: 3D

My life is just one continuous stream of awkwardness.  And there was a lot of that this weekend, specifically awkwardness in the "dating" department.  I had a handful of exes pop back up.  Three, to be exact.

1. Golf Guy:  Now, I don't consider him an "ex" really, but he counts as someone that I had something with.  Specific, huh?  Things were going well (so I thought) back in early December and then he just fell off the face of the Earth.  I decided not to pursue him because I'm sick of the chase.  He knew where to find me if he was interested.  Needless to say, I didn't really hear from him.  He texted me his condolences on NYE about Granddaddy, which earned him some points in my book, but we hadn't really been talking since.  Well, Friday night, the BFFAE and I had a slumber party.  Mr. S (the BFFAE's BF) went out with Golf Guy (his BFF).  I received a text from Golf Guy that night, asking how our girls' night was going.  I can't say I was too surprised.  I was, however, a little irritated.  Dude...either you're interested or you're not.  I'm too old for this game.  I'm fragile.  And impatient.  We text-flirted for awhile, but that's basically the end of that.
2. BJ:  Let me give you a little history about BJ since I've never mentioned him.  I met BJ (his initials for the blog's sake, not his real name) the summer before 9th grade (2000) on a church retreat.  It was puppy love.  We spent the week holding hands, talking for hours on end, and just being generally adorable.  He lived at the beach, so we didn't do the "relationship" thing, but we definitely kept in touch and had major crushes on each other.  I had an AT&T calling card with 1,000 minutes on it and I used to call him and talk for hours at night.  This was before the days of cell phones, free long distance, and all that jazz.  I had strong feelings for him that didn't go away quickly.  We talked less frequently over the years, but every time we did talk, it was like no time had passed at all.  (I feel really childish writing this, but it was the closest thing I'd known to love at age 14.)  My junior year of high school, I called him and asked him if he would be my prom date.  I knew it was a long shot since he lived almost 5 hours away, but I thought he was so dreamy and couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather go to prom with.  He said he needed to check with his parents (they were divorced so he had to make sure it was ok on all fronts).  Before hanging up, he said, "I love you and I will call you tomorrow."  That was the last I ever heard from him.  Yes, I'm bitter about it.  I ended up going to prom with my gay friend, Justin, who was the best date ever.  Fast forward to 2007 when I'm living in Italy.  Guess who finds me on MySpace?!  BJ sent me a message and apologized for the way things had ended and I felt like I got a little closure.  Then, a few months later, he defriended me on MySpace because his girlfriend didn't want him talking to me.  Mature.  Recently, I found him and friended him on Facebook, just to see how life was going.  Ok, you caught me, I wanted to Facebook stalk him.  Happy?  Saturday night I got a Facebook message from BJ.  I stared at the icon on my phone just trying to imagine what in the world it would say.  Was it spam?  Did he actually have something to talk to me about?  Did his wife know he was contacting me (because yes, he got married last year)?  Would his wife care?  Why should she care?  Why did I care?  I finally opened the message and here's what it said: "Hey Girl....How about give me a call 843-***-****.....I need to get your address. I have something of yours that you gave me a long time ago and you may want it back.....BJ"  I knew immediately what it was: a ring.  Somehow he'd ended up with a silver ring of mine and apparently he still had it...after 11 years.  I summoned up the nerve to call him that night.  (I was a ball of nerves because I hadn't heard his voice in years, I didn't know what to say to him, I still harbor a little bitterness towards him, and I was afraid his wife would answer.  I'm lame.)  We talked for about half an hour and caught up with each other's life.  He said that he'd been keeping the ring and found it last week and wanted to send it back to me in case it held any sentimental value to me.  I was touched.  And I do want the ring back.  Want to see what he looks like?                                                                                  



I took this picture from his Facebook.  He's married, a cop, and has an adopted 7-year-old son.

3. CW:  CW was my first serious relationship.  I met him on a church mission trip called Salkehatchie (see a theme...).  We met the summer before my senior year of high school (2003) and started dating pretty much right away.  Again, this was a long distance thing (another unfortunate theme in my relationships). He lived about 3ish hours away and we both had cars, so it wasn't terrible.  He would come and spend the weekend at my house about every 6 weeks.  Doesn't sound like a lot, but it is when you're talking about being in high school and having your boyfriend come spend the weekend with you.  He was my first "real" love.  He wasn't the greatest boyfriend in the world, by he was mine.  He came to see me for Valentine's Day and wore a Piggly Wiggly t-shirt.  Not so classy.  The following summer, we we went back on the same mission trip.  (It was held in his hometown again so he was a volunteer.)  Four days before our 1 year anniversary, while he was less than 2 miles from the church where we spent the night, he dumped me over the phone.  I was heartbroken.  Couldn't function.  He said he just didn't love me anymore.  We continued to see each other throughout the week and I put on my brave face.  It also helped that I had a lot of guy friends on the trip and they made a point to talk about how great I was and how pretty I was right in front of him and he got pretty jealous.  We patched things up as far as the friendship went and ended on a better note.  We talked some over the years, mostly when he would call me when he was intoxicated.  I've since deleted his number from my phone, as I had no reason to call him.  Fast forward to this past Sunday morning.  I checked my phone when I woke up for church and I had received an inappropriate text from a number I didn't recognize.  What did the text say, you ask?  Well, it wasn't awful, but it was certainly creepy: "I want to f you."  Say what?!  I texted back and asked who it was.  I was thinking it was a wrong number or a friend playing a prank or just someone creepy that I would have to block immediately.  It was CW.  He responded and apologized.  Apparently, one of his friends had taken his phone and sent out random inappropriate texts.  We briefly texted back and forth about what we were up to these days and then said our goodbyes.  And I'm sure you want to see him, too, huh?                                                         



This is CW.  I don't really know what to say about him. 

So that was the awkwardness of my weekend.  And I saw Black Swan.  It was maybe the most disturbing movie I've ever seen, and I've seen some really disturbing movies.  (My cousin forced me to watch Faces of Death.  Google it if you dare.)  I left the theater feeling really uncomfortable and anxious.  And confused.

Creepy.

Awkward snuggles,
A

How do you clean up a soap spill?

Ok people, this is day 5 of a migraine.  There should be a law against this.  If I don't get relief soon, I may have to head to the hospital for a shot of the good stuff.  Let's hope I don't have to resort to this.  The "new guy" at work (who is 63) told me to freeze a kitchen knife and hold the cold blade on my jawline.  I'm not sure how that will help, and I'm pretty sure that's the craziest thing I've heard all week.  Should I drink some kerosene while I'm at it??

The furbaby is a bad girl.  There was a brand new jug of laundry detergent sitting on the kitchen counter.  Sometime in the middle of the night, she must have jumped on the counter and knocked it over.  When it fell, the cap broke and detergent spilled all over the kitchen floor and rug.  Not a good situation.  Here's a very important question for all of my lovelies out in bloggy land: How do you clean liquid detergent out of a rug?  The rug is too big to wash in the washing machine and I don't want to make a holy sudsy mess.  Please help!

Update from the doctor:  I do not have a stress fracture in my foot.  Thank you, baby Jesus.  As it turns out, I have severely irritated my metatarsals and the muscles surrounding them and my fat pad on the ball of my foot has atrophied.  Hot mess.  I kicked the boot to the curb again.  Well, not really.  I'd probably hurt myself worse if I kicked the boot, but you get what I'm saying.  That was a little piece of good news in my life.

It's so cold in my office.  My hands are freezing, my nose is cold and drippy, and my feet are like ice cubes.  I don't like winter.  I live in the South, and I expect the temperatures to adjust themselves accordingly.  I am not ok with the fact that it is currently 25 degrees outside at 9:50am.  No thank you.

I'm rocking out to the Glee Christmas CD and trying to not be a Scrooge right now.

Snuggles,
A

In a funk. Rebooting and regrouping.

Today is one of those days.  I just feel blah about everything.  I'm lacking in the self-worth and brains department.  I think I need a life coach.  Someone that will force empower me to make good life choices and remind me that I'm a kick-ass person.  Sometimes I forget/doubt it.  On top of my poor life choices, I forgot to pay my rent this month.  What?!  It's due by the 5th of the month.  I remembered today.  Today is the 6th.  I had to pay a really awesome $66 late fee.  I've never been late with my rent.  If you could see my face, it's not a happy one.

Here's a hypothetical situation for y'all to ponder.  Let's say there is a really awesome person who may or may not have a case of the "likes" towards you.  (You have indicated that this is mutual, although you tend to be hot and cold, just like Katy Perry said you'd be.)  You invite said person over to hang out and she is super thoughtful and knows that you didn't eat supper, so she brings you some leftover homemade spaghetti and some chocolate cake.  Thoughtful, remember?  She was even cool enough to bring you enough so that you could take it to work tomorrow and have lunch.  What would you think/do?  If you answer incorrectly, you are dead to me.  Just kidding.  Well, maybe.

I'm in a funk.  I feel like that episode of Glee.  Help.

In case you haven't heard via Facebook, I had to reboot.  That's right, I'm wearing das boot again.  I have been having a lot of pain in my right foot and I was trying to shrug it off and pretend that it was just going to hurt while I was getting used to walking in normal shoes.  Last Wednesday, I had physical therapy.  I told her about my pain and that one of my toes looked funny.  She thinks I have a stress fracture.  The bad part?  It's in a completely different area of my foot than the original break.  I guess I just have brittle feet?  I go back to the doctor in the morning for x-rays and we will see.  Add bionic feet to my Christmas list, Santa baby.  I also need wool socks because my toes get cold in das boot.

And to revert back to the origins of this blog, I will leave you with some song lyrics:
"'Can you help me unravel my latest mistake?'...Winter just wasn't my season." -Anna Nalick, "Breathe (2AM)"

Meh,
A

Hi-yah!

Do you ever get really annoyed with someone and just want to karate chop them in the throat? Like really hard. Knock the stupid right out of their mouth. I have a growing list of people to karate chop. I'm in an extremely foul mood right now because of these people. Especially the cranky ones that bust up into my day and ask me what my problem is. Excuse me? I didn't have a problem until you started accusing me of having one. Thanks for making me cranky. And now that I'm thinking about it, I have a few things that are really chapping my ass. I won't go into detail because I need to cut my rage short if I want to have any chance of sleeping tonight. You, my lovely readers, are not on my karate chop list. Because you are awesome.

Grrrrrr,
A

Lessons in customer service etiquette. And maybe some conjunctivitis, because that's sexy.

I don't know what the weather is like where y'all live, but it's nasty here.  Cold, wet, and icky.  This weather affects my mood and makes me a wee bit cranky.  And bitter.  And freaking cold.  Although cold isn't an emotion...shut up.

On my lunch break, I decided to stop by the gas station and get some of the nectar of the gods Dr. Pepper.  I was like the third person in a long check-out line.  The woman running the register had the IQ of a potato chip.  She had 14-inch-long fingernails that looked like she was vying for a spot in the Guinness Book of World Records.

Well, maybe not quite that long.  How does she wipe her own arse?  {here}

Somehow, she manages to close her register.  She has no clue how it happened and no clue how to fix it.  Like zip, zilch, nada.  Dumber than potato chips.  She then informs everyone in line that we should probably leave because she wasn't going to be able to do anything.  Really?!  If you own a business that hires cashiers, here are a few ground rules you should probably follow:

1. Never hire anyone who is not capable of operating a register.  After all, that is their main task.
2. If you are dumb enough to hire someone who is not capable of operating said register, never allow them to work a shift alone.
3. Don't hire people with potato chip IQs.

Needless to say, I left empty-handed.  She seems like the type of person who spells Nancy with an "S."  Stupid people should not be allowed to breed.  I, clearly, would be allowed to have infinite amounts of babies, because I am not one of those people.  (Shut up.)  

I mentioned in my last post that I did quite a bit of shopping on Black Friday.  I received a phone call from my bank last night alerting me that I might have someone fraudulently using my account.  Yikes!  As instructed, I called the fraud customer service line and try to get to the bottom of this.  She said that there had been an abnormal amount of activity on my account in the past few days and they needed to verify that the transactions were indeed mine.  A hold had been placed on my account just to be safe.  Okay...  She reads off a seemingly endless list of transactions.  All of them were mine.  She judged me.  I politely explained to her that there were bazillions of sales this weekend, as it is one of the busiest shopping weekends of the whole year.  I was obviously buying Christmas presents for all of the wonderful people in my life useless stuff for myself.  Tis the season, lady.  She still judged me and suggested that I not do that again.  After all, if I was spending at such a rapid pace that it would suggest fraud, that might be a problem.  She's jealous that I didn't buy her anything on Black Friday.

I think I may be coming down with a sweet case of pink eye.  Aren't I too old for this?  Let's all say a prayer that I just have itchy eyeballs.  Better yet, let's pray that my eyeballs stop itching all together.  I like that plan better.

Amen,

A

Turkeys, babies, sales, and Staph...That's what the holidays are all about!

Sorry for the hiatus.  I've had a busy holiday weekend.  I hope everyone had a (ful)filling Thanksgiving!  Here's a recap of the festivities:
After work on Wednesday, my parents and I drove down to Alabama to my grandparents' house.  Thursday morning was a flurry of yummy dishes being prepared and family arriving.  Take a look at this impressive Turkey Day spread!

Soak it all in.  

From L to R: (top row) cranberry sauce, deviled eggs, mac and cheese, dressing, (bottom row) cranberry salad, squash casserole, sweet potato souffle, and black-eyed peas

From L to R: (top row) cornbread, mashed sweet potatoes, carrots and green beans, mashed potatoes, (bottom row) blueberry salad, and sweet potatoes with pineapple

My plate from Round 1.  (We won't discuss Round 2.)  Nom nom nom.

The dessert table: chocolate cake, pumpkin cheesecake, coconut pie, peanut butter pie, pumpkin pie, brownies, more brownies, and other yummies.

It was a ton of food, but that's what you need to feed 23 people.  It was totally worth all of the calories.  After lunch, I played outside with the little ones.

Swing low.

Lovin on baby sister.

Their smiles melt my heart.

Big girls discussing big girl things, like what's in their purses.  After this, they sneaked off to the bathroom to write in their journals.  Divas.

Look at this precious nugget!

We drove home from Alabama after lunch on Thanksgiving.  After we made it home, Mommy Dearest and I were looking at the sale papers and I was coming up with a game plan.  We were watching the 11o'clock news and I heard them say that Old Navy was opening at midnight.  I perused their sale paper and decided that I needed some $5 pajama pants.  Mommy Dearest decided to go to bed and I headed out the door like a moron to go stand in line in the cold at midnight to get into Old Navy.  Yes, I realize the absurdity in this, but I had nothing better to do and I really needed some pajama pants.  I got in and grabbed everything in sight what I needed and proceeded to wait in the check-out line for almost an hour.  I should have expected this, but all the crazies were out, and some of them were standing behind me in line.  There were 2 young couples behind me, and they were just a touch redneck.  I was surprised to see full sets of teeth.  One of the girls was preggers and I overheard her say her due date was the next day.  I swear, I was going to have to flip my shit if her water broke all over me and my new pajamas.  It would have been on the news the next day, next to the headlines of people being trampled to death at Walmart.  Here's a snip-it of a conversation I heard between Girl #2 and Boy #1 (prepare yourself):

Girl #2:  Did I tell you that I had to go to the hospital th'other day?

Boy #1:  Nah, man.  What did you do this time?

Girl #2:  I had a boil on my leg, right in my crotch crease.  I had t'get it lanced.

Boy #1:  I'd've stuck it for ya!  What was in it?

Girl #2:  It was all full up with infection.  Like MRSA and Staph and stuff.  I gotta keep gauze on it though because it's still leakin.

Holy geeze.  Get out of Old Navy!  Stop touching things!  Take your MRSA and Staph and go on somewhere.  Dirty people.  I threw up in my mouth a little.  

I got home from Old Navy and took a little snooze, then Mommy Dearest and I were out among the crazy Black Friday shoppers.  Here's my loot list:

• Pajama pants and sweaters (Old Navy)
• DVDs and a Shark steam mop (Target)
• Glee and Mariah Christmas CDs and Michael Kors pea coat (Costco)
• New pillows for my bed (Sam's Club)
• Cute top and sweater (TJ Maxx)
• Make-up (Ulta)
• DVDs (Best Buy online)

I think I did pretty well for myself.  Did anyone else do any Black Friday shopping?  What did you score?

Cyber Monday hugs,

A

PS- I heard that some of my lovely readers were having trouble viewing the pictures of Princess Fiona's birthday, so I reloaded them.  Hope that helps!

S, as in Nancy.

I don't like stupid people.  I was on dumbass overload yesterday.  Dumbassness everywhere.  I had to call a freight provider about an invoicing error.  On my invoice it said, "Call 1-888-HELPME (or something like that) and ask for Heath," so I did.  Here's how that went down:

Dumbass: May I help you?

Moi:  Yes, may I speak with Heath?

Dumbass:  Huh?  Who?

Moi:  Um...Heath, please.  The note on my invoice says to call Heath with questions.

Dumbass:  I don't know who that is.  Do you have a quote number to reference?

Moi:  I sure do.  It's FNL2938747220.

Dumbass:  S, as in Nancy?

Moi:  Uhhh...F, as in Frank...

How about S, as in no stupid, Nancy starts with an N, so maybe you should go back to school to learn how to spell and stop ruining my morning with your dumbassness.  Did that just happen?  Yes, Snancy, it just did.

Snancy says she will talk to you later,

A

Stop diagnosing yourself via WebMD and go pack my suitcase for me.

Time is literally crawling today.  Crawling like a small toddler who hasn't quite gotten the hang of things yet.  Unacceptable.  I spent my morning trying to solve a frustrating issue at work.  Then, I spent my lunch break on the phone with CVS Caremark trying to explain to them that they've messed up my prescriptions for the jabillionth time.  I'm so over them.  If they didn't control the distribution of my precious migraine drugs, we'd be having a nasty break up.  This CVS drama has been going on since October 1.  In case you're counting...that's a month and a half.  I want to punch a pharmacist in the face right about now.  Now I just have to make it through a little over 2-ish hours at work and then go home and race to finish packing so that Mommy Dearest and I can hit the road to Gatlinburg.  We are spending the weekend at at jewelry/accessories expo and then doing some outlet shopping.  Hopefully I will come home with some new pretties to show you!

I'm cranky.  I have things that I need/want to be doing right now, but I can't.  I probably should have done them last night but I was busy watching Grey's Anatomy, Private Practice, and playing with my iPad.  These are all valid activities, but that meant that I did not pack.

Here's another reason why I'm cranky.  I've been minding my own business today.  Out of the blue, I get a chat message from The Ex.  I haven't heard from him since he called to tell me Happy Birthday (the day before my birthday because he had plans on my actual birthday and, heaven forbid that I be an inconvenience).  I actually haven't even really realized that we haven't been speaking.  He sent me a message saying that he'd been in the ER today.  That sucks.  Why is he telling me?  Go call your girlfriend.

The Ex: Was in the ER today.

Moi: Are you ok?

The Ex:  I messed up my knee.  It's all torn on the inside.

Moi:  How did you hurt it?

The Ex: I don't know.

Moi:  You're in enough pain to need to go to the ER, and you don't know what you were doing when it happened??

The Ex: I worked out 2 weeks ago and it started hurting a week later and it was really hurting this morning.  I sleep in ball and it locked up and when I stood up this morning, it made all these cracking and popping and tearing noises.

Moi:  My knees always sound like that.

The Ex:  I need an MRI but no one will give me one.

Moi:  They aren't candy.  They don't just give them out.  You need a referral from a doctor and you have to schedule an appointment.

The Ex:  They did an X-ray but you can't see torn ligaments on it.

[Yes, genius.  You are correct.  BONES show up on X-rays, not muscles and ligaments.]

Moi:  I wouldn't jump to conclusions if I were you...

He's a hypochondriac.  Bless his heart, every time he gets sick, he thinks it's the plague and that he's going to die.  He is always looking up his symptoms on WebMD and that's never a good plan.  He called me one time (after we'd broken up) and told me he thought he had cancer.  He said that when he was in the shower, he found a lump on his man bits.  I tried to keep him calm and urged him to see a doctor if he really thought it was serious.  I told him that it was probably nothing and that it could just be a swollen lymph node or gland or maybe he just had bumpy bits.  He cried and argued and complained and moped.  He finally went to the doctor.  Here's literally how that went...

The Ex:  [Gulp.] So, Doctor...what is that lump on my testicle?

Doctor:  Um, son...that is your testicle.

The Ex:  Oh.  Okay.

I laugh every single time I think about that story.  Typical him.  However, there was one time I accused him of crying wolf and he was actually sick.  He had a bad case of Mono and an ear infection and got so dehydrated that he was admitted to the hospital overnight.  He used that one instance as basis for all of his medical woes and assumptions.  The guy was right once and got a big head about it.  Anyway, I feel bad that he's hurting, but why tell me now?  Thanks for randomly messaging me so that I will take pity on you.  Sorry that it didn't work this time.  Get well soon, but I kinda don't really care how soon that is.  Now I sound mean.  This is just the crankiness talking.  Kinda.  I'm sure he will update me later because he probably thinks I'm holding my breath.  I'm not.

Sending grouchy feelings your way,

A