Tuesday, February 22
Wednesday, October 20
Friday, October 15
Friday, July 23
Oy...
After getting the inspiration to read Tom's blog from beginning to end, I said that I wouldn't do that with mine because I'm not that starved for entertainment.
So what did I go and do? Yep... I read my whole damn blog. Good grief, I am a whiny, long-winded biddy. I'm sorry, you guys. I really had no idea. *L*
Tomorrow I read Moni's blog... For now, I sleep.
So what did I go and do? Yep... I read my whole damn blog. Good grief, I am a whiny, long-winded biddy. I'm sorry, you guys. I really had no idea. *L*
Tomorrow I read Moni's blog... For now, I sleep.
Thursday, July 22
I suppose that it might help...
If I were to update here, wouldn't it?
I intend to use this journal for my long, pointless, angst-ridden posts. My shorter, occasionally witty stuff is now here. Please make a note of this.
I intend to use this journal for my long, pointless, angst-ridden posts. My shorter, occasionally witty stuff is now here. Please make a note of this.
Saturday, May 1
Adventures in Idiotspotting, Chapter 1
I take great pride in the knowledge that I am not an idiot. I strive to maintain, at the very least, a smidgen of common sense and logic in all matters. Unfortunately, as luck would have it, the great majority of the world's population does not even attempt such lofty goals. It is with this in mind that I present to you the first of many (and I do mean many) diatribes against the stupid.
Chapter 1 - The Sunoco Station Lady:
Many of my readers who depend on the use of motorized vehicles for transportation understand the need for the gas or petrol station. If you drive a car, you must eventually purchase gas and other vital fluids which are integral in maintaining your vehicle's ability to function. This was the reason that Monica and I stopped for gas, as well as cigarettes, a beverage, and a snack from our local Sunoco station. We shop their frequently, as their prices are generally fair and it is in a convenient location in proximity to our home. We pulled up to the pumps and prepared to gas up the ol' tank - er, that is to say, Monica's minivan. It does not go unnoticed that the price for all 3 formulas of gas is listed at $1.82 a gallon. Such sacrifices must be made for the sake of mobility. "Ten or fifteen (dollars)?" I asked Monica. "Uh, twelve-fifty. It's right in the middle," she grins back. Click, glug, click, glug. Ah, $12.52, the little readout shows me. I always do have to get my own two cents in, don't I? So far, so good... So, we go inside to pay and secure snackables for the errands which we have to run. Thus begins my adventure in idiotspotting.
As she and I walked into the convenience store portion of the gas station (which I would soon learn was anything but convenient), Monica pointed out to me a sign which was plastered upon the door. Free Reese's Cups with the purchase of a 20 oz. Coke product. SCORE! Free stuff is always a bonus.
Monica paid for the gas and bought our cigarettes to get that part of the trip out of the way. We walk back to the cooler to select our beverages from the limited selection of Coke family products which is displayed. She selects a Dr. Pepper (since there was no rootbeer, which she had been wanting), and I chose a Mello Yello, which I had not had in at least 10 years. Clutching our little, plastic 20 ouncers, we walked to the candy aisle to snag a couple packages of that peanut buttery goodness wrapped in chocolate, known as the Reese's Cup. I had intended to get a white chocolate big cup, while I believe that Monica had intended to get the classic two pack. But, what did appear to our wondering eyes? A giant, gaping maw where once had been the display location of the Reese's products. There were a few straggling Reese Sticks and a box of the king size Reese's Cup 4-pack, but there were none of the items that had been pictured on the sign that had drew our attention to the free snackies deal. After our joint "What the fuck?" moment, we wandered around the shop a bit, looking to see if perhaps the free snackies were on display elsewhere. No luck. It was in our wanderings that I noticed the display of Little Debbie snack cakes. For those of you who are not in America, Little Debbie is the maker of delicious, inexpensive snack cakes. She's like Santa to the welfare crowd. You can get practically any flavor snack cake (my particular favorite being the Oatmeal Creme Pie - two thin, soft oatmeal cookies smashed together with a vanilla creamy filling) for a quarter. Twenty-five pennies and you've got snack heaven in a little cellophane baggy. We decided to forgo our search for the elusive Reese's Cups and instead purchase a fountain drink and two Little Debbie snack cakes. 44 ounces of soda was only $1.29, which worked out to be a better bargain than our two half-hearted 20 ounce selections at $1.29 each. Since we decided at this point to share a soda, we went for the Dr. Pepper. There is little in life that is as good as a fountain dispensed Dr. Pepper.
Now, so far you may notice that while this shopping adventure has been a bit inconvenient, there have been no appearances by idiots. Be patient, my young padawan. She is coming.
I removed a 44 ounce cup from the caddy where they have been displayed next to the soda fountain. As I begin to place the cup to the ice dispenser, I notice that the cup has been handled before. I am certain of this fact because a) there are grubby marks around the mouth of the cup, and b) there is a 20 ounce cup stashed inside the 44 ouncer. Disgusted, I throw both cups into the garbage receptacle and reach for another 44 ounce cup. I fill our CLEAN 44 ounce cup of soda, which requires that I hold it with both of my insanely small hands to prevent it from spilling. I reach into the little caddy to remove a lid to place over our soda, to ensure that our soda will not spill in the car. ACK! There are no lids to fit the 44 ounce cup. We get a bit flustered, but Monica asks the attendant if she has anymore lids for the 44 ounce cups.
Enter our idiot.
The attendant - I'll call her Danica, because for some reason that was the name that came to my mind after the event - seemed a bit put out by the fact that we had drawn her attention to something that should have been taken care of. God forbid that the woman actually have to do some work during her shift. She tried to impatiently yell across the store that "They're RIGHT THERE! Next to the cups." No dice, chica. "The spot is empty," we reply in unison. She huffs her way the entire 15 feet from where she was standing over to the soda fountain. She looks, as if we were a couple of turnips who just fell off the back of the truck and had no idea what a soda lid should look like. "Huh," is her wizened reply. She looks underneath the counter and finds that there are no lids that fit the 44 ounce cups. "Sorry", she says as she starts to walk away. Whoa there, Trigger, where do you think you're going? "Wait a minute," I say. "We NEED a lid. This is going to spill in the car." "We don't have any lids. Sorry," she shrugs.
At this point I'm about ready to snap. I'm trying to not use manager voice and make this idiot cry, but it's coming. I know that it is. I can feel the constriction in the back of my throat as I try to be civil. I understand what it's like to work in the service industry. I know how stupid customers can be. I've been behind that shitty little bow tie and apron and staring down the face of moron after moron who dared to cross my path during my 8-hour tour of duty. I comprehend all of that. But, I also knew that, as a consumer, making a small request - like a FUCKING PLASTIC LID was not entirely uncalled for. I wasn't asking her if the hot dogs that had been on the rotisserie were all beef franks or if they were Kosher. I wasn't asking her what the percentage of water to alcohol was in their particular formula of gasoline. I was asking for a FUCKING PLASTIC LID FOR MY FUCKING PLASTIC CUP AND I WAS TIRED OF HER INSOLENCE! :sigh: I'm fine, really. :twitch:
After essentially being told that she didn't give a shit whether my drink spilled in the car, I asked her what she proposed to do about the situation. Her brilliant plan was that I pour my soda into a 32 ounce cup and she'd only charge me for 32 ounces. Monica and I looked at the empty spot where the 32 ounce cups should have been. We looked at Danica and replied once again in unison, "There are no 32 ounce cups." Danica sniffs and starts to point at the dispenser, "There right ther.... oh." As she started to walk into the back store room, I said, "It's no problem, I'll just pour the soda from this cup into two 20 ounce cups. Then we'll have lids and not have to waste anything." Danica replied furiously from the back store room, "I can't do that."
I was floored.
"This is crazy," I said, just before I blew a pupil in my left eye in fury. Danica stomps back out of the store room, shoves a sleeve of 32 ounce cups into the dispenser and snarls at me, "This isn't stupid, this is a business!" Monica immediately jumps to my aid. Perhaps it was to Danica's aid, depending on exactly how much rage was showing in my face. "She didn't say 'stupid', she said "crazy"." Danica blew her off as she walked back over to her register to leave us to deal with the 32 ounce cups (which, as you may have already guessed, also did not have lids that fit).
I felt the synapses of my brain start to sizzle. I knew that if I did not leave the store, homicide would have taken place. I announced to Monica, and to the other customers who were now in the store, "This is a business. A BUSINESS! She wants a business, that's fine. But, she'll no longer have MY BUSINESS!" (Yes, I am a melodramatic princess in real life in addition to on the internet. It's my life's true calling.) I put my 44 ounce lidless cup of delicious fountain dispensed Dr. Pepper down onto the counter, turned on my heel, and marched purposefully out of the store.
We eventually did get a fountain dispensed Dr. Pepper some time later, in a 44 ounce cup with a matching lid. I savored that cup with it's lid. It was another victory in...
The Adventures of Idiotspotting!
(Yes, this is a true story. Had it been fiction, it would not have been nearly as drawn out and confuddled. Yes, I will be filing a complaint with Danica's manager, because, quite frankly, she deserves it.)
Chapter 1 - The Sunoco Station Lady:
Many of my readers who depend on the use of motorized vehicles for transportation understand the need for the gas or petrol station. If you drive a car, you must eventually purchase gas and other vital fluids which are integral in maintaining your vehicle's ability to function. This was the reason that Monica and I stopped for gas, as well as cigarettes, a beverage, and a snack from our local Sunoco station. We shop their frequently, as their prices are generally fair and it is in a convenient location in proximity to our home. We pulled up to the pumps and prepared to gas up the ol' tank - er, that is to say, Monica's minivan. It does not go unnoticed that the price for all 3 formulas of gas is listed at $1.82 a gallon. Such sacrifices must be made for the sake of mobility. "Ten or fifteen (dollars)?" I asked Monica. "Uh, twelve-fifty. It's right in the middle," she grins back. Click, glug, click, glug. Ah, $12.52, the little readout shows me. I always do have to get my own two cents in, don't I? So far, so good... So, we go inside to pay and secure snackables for the errands which we have to run. Thus begins my adventure in idiotspotting.
As she and I walked into the convenience store portion of the gas station (which I would soon learn was anything but convenient), Monica pointed out to me a sign which was plastered upon the door. Free Reese's Cups with the purchase of a 20 oz. Coke product. SCORE! Free stuff is always a bonus.
Monica paid for the gas and bought our cigarettes to get that part of the trip out of the way. We walk back to the cooler to select our beverages from the limited selection of Coke family products which is displayed. She selects a Dr. Pepper (since there was no rootbeer, which she had been wanting), and I chose a Mello Yello, which I had not had in at least 10 years. Clutching our little, plastic 20 ouncers, we walked to the candy aisle to snag a couple packages of that peanut buttery goodness wrapped in chocolate, known as the Reese's Cup. I had intended to get a white chocolate big cup, while I believe that Monica had intended to get the classic two pack. But, what did appear to our wondering eyes? A giant, gaping maw where once had been the display location of the Reese's products. There were a few straggling Reese Sticks and a box of the king size Reese's Cup 4-pack, but there were none of the items that had been pictured on the sign that had drew our attention to the free snackies deal. After our joint "What the fuck?" moment, we wandered around the shop a bit, looking to see if perhaps the free snackies were on display elsewhere. No luck. It was in our wanderings that I noticed the display of Little Debbie snack cakes. For those of you who are not in America, Little Debbie is the maker of delicious, inexpensive snack cakes. She's like Santa to the welfare crowd. You can get practically any flavor snack cake (my particular favorite being the Oatmeal Creme Pie - two thin, soft oatmeal cookies smashed together with a vanilla creamy filling) for a quarter. Twenty-five pennies and you've got snack heaven in a little cellophane baggy. We decided to forgo our search for the elusive Reese's Cups and instead purchase a fountain drink and two Little Debbie snack cakes. 44 ounces of soda was only $1.29, which worked out to be a better bargain than our two half-hearted 20 ounce selections at $1.29 each. Since we decided at this point to share a soda, we went for the Dr. Pepper. There is little in life that is as good as a fountain dispensed Dr. Pepper.
Now, so far you may notice that while this shopping adventure has been a bit inconvenient, there have been no appearances by idiots. Be patient, my young padawan. She is coming.
I removed a 44 ounce cup from the caddy where they have been displayed next to the soda fountain. As I begin to place the cup to the ice dispenser, I notice that the cup has been handled before. I am certain of this fact because a) there are grubby marks around the mouth of the cup, and b) there is a 20 ounce cup stashed inside the 44 ouncer. Disgusted, I throw both cups into the garbage receptacle and reach for another 44 ounce cup. I fill our CLEAN 44 ounce cup of soda, which requires that I hold it with both of my insanely small hands to prevent it from spilling. I reach into the little caddy to remove a lid to place over our soda, to ensure that our soda will not spill in the car. ACK! There are no lids to fit the 44 ounce cup. We get a bit flustered, but Monica asks the attendant if she has anymore lids for the 44 ounce cups.
Enter our idiot.
The attendant - I'll call her Danica, because for some reason that was the name that came to my mind after the event - seemed a bit put out by the fact that we had drawn her attention to something that should have been taken care of. God forbid that the woman actually have to do some work during her shift. She tried to impatiently yell across the store that "They're RIGHT THERE! Next to the cups." No dice, chica. "The spot is empty," we reply in unison. She huffs her way the entire 15 feet from where she was standing over to the soda fountain. She looks, as if we were a couple of turnips who just fell off the back of the truck and had no idea what a soda lid should look like. "Huh," is her wizened reply. She looks underneath the counter and finds that there are no lids that fit the 44 ounce cups. "Sorry", she says as she starts to walk away. Whoa there, Trigger, where do you think you're going? "Wait a minute," I say. "We NEED a lid. This is going to spill in the car." "We don't have any lids. Sorry," she shrugs.
At this point I'm about ready to snap. I'm trying to not use manager voice and make this idiot cry, but it's coming. I know that it is. I can feel the constriction in the back of my throat as I try to be civil. I understand what it's like to work in the service industry. I know how stupid customers can be. I've been behind that shitty little bow tie and apron and staring down the face of moron after moron who dared to cross my path during my 8-hour tour of duty. I comprehend all of that. But, I also knew that, as a consumer, making a small request - like a FUCKING PLASTIC LID was not entirely uncalled for. I wasn't asking her if the hot dogs that had been on the rotisserie were all beef franks or if they were Kosher. I wasn't asking her what the percentage of water to alcohol was in their particular formula of gasoline. I was asking for a FUCKING PLASTIC LID FOR MY FUCKING PLASTIC CUP AND I WAS TIRED OF HER INSOLENCE! :sigh: I'm fine, really. :twitch:
After essentially being told that she didn't give a shit whether my drink spilled in the car, I asked her what she proposed to do about the situation. Her brilliant plan was that I pour my soda into a 32 ounce cup and she'd only charge me for 32 ounces. Monica and I looked at the empty spot where the 32 ounce cups should have been. We looked at Danica and replied once again in unison, "There are no 32 ounce cups." Danica sniffs and starts to point at the dispenser, "There right ther.... oh." As she started to walk into the back store room, I said, "It's no problem, I'll just pour the soda from this cup into two 20 ounce cups. Then we'll have lids and not have to waste anything." Danica replied furiously from the back store room, "I can't do that."
I was floored.
"This is crazy," I said, just before I blew a pupil in my left eye in fury. Danica stomps back out of the store room, shoves a sleeve of 32 ounce cups into the dispenser and snarls at me, "This isn't stupid, this is a business!" Monica immediately jumps to my aid. Perhaps it was to Danica's aid, depending on exactly how much rage was showing in my face. "She didn't say 'stupid', she said "crazy"." Danica blew her off as she walked back over to her register to leave us to deal with the 32 ounce cups (which, as you may have already guessed, also did not have lids that fit).
I felt the synapses of my brain start to sizzle. I knew that if I did not leave the store, homicide would have taken place. I announced to Monica, and to the other customers who were now in the store, "This is a business. A BUSINESS! She wants a business, that's fine. But, she'll no longer have MY BUSINESS!" (Yes, I am a melodramatic princess in real life in addition to on the internet. It's my life's true calling.) I put my 44 ounce lidless cup of delicious fountain dispensed Dr. Pepper down onto the counter, turned on my heel, and marched purposefully out of the store.
We eventually did get a fountain dispensed Dr. Pepper some time later, in a 44 ounce cup with a matching lid. I savored that cup with it's lid. It was another victory in...
The Adventures of Idiotspotting!
(Yes, this is a true story. Had it been fiction, it would not have been nearly as drawn out and confuddled. Yes, I will be filing a complaint with Danica's manager, because, quite frankly, she deserves it.)
Monday, April 19
The mania remains:
I feel it returning. That sense of dysphoria... the frustration of not being able to control my thoughts or actions. I find myself falling into the old routine. I went to sleep, finally, at 4:30 this morning. I was awake at 7:30 am. I felt overwhelmed and sick by 11:30 am and fell asleep on the couch. I've been getting floaters (those weird eye blobs that you see when you close your eyes) all day. It's probably blood pressure, but the stress of the mania doesn't help. I try to overlook little things, those things that are annoying the living shit out of me but shouldn't.
I can't deal. I'm trying to, but I can't. I wish that this wouldn't happen, but it does. I just have to try to get through it. My thoughts are so disjointed. It's like watching that stupid Ring movie in my head. Flashing lights and annoying noise constantly. No wonder my head starting swimming this morning/afternoon.
I'm trying to not burden anyone with this. The last time that I was this way, I got to the point that I was sleeping about two hours a day and was on the internet the rest of the time. I can't do it that way here. ManThingy's got the computer all fucked at the moment and we're going to have to reformat (AGAIN!), so the only time that I get net time is when no one is using the upstairs computer. I don't want to be in the way. I have to help take care of the kids and try to keep the house clean. I can't let the kids see me like this. It's too much for them to comprehend and I don't want them to be affected by this bizarre side to Aunt Sherrie.
I want to rage. I want to scream and cry and break things, but I have to just subdue myself until it passes. It's nothing new. It's just that my head is all fucked up and there's not a fucking thing that I can do about it.
I hate myself sometimes. I really, really do.
I can't deal. I'm trying to, but I can't. I wish that this wouldn't happen, but it does. I just have to try to get through it. My thoughts are so disjointed. It's like watching that stupid Ring movie in my head. Flashing lights and annoying noise constantly. No wonder my head starting swimming this morning/afternoon.
I'm trying to not burden anyone with this. The last time that I was this way, I got to the point that I was sleeping about two hours a day and was on the internet the rest of the time. I can't do it that way here. ManThingy's got the computer all fucked at the moment and we're going to have to reformat (AGAIN!), so the only time that I get net time is when no one is using the upstairs computer. I don't want to be in the way. I have to help take care of the kids and try to keep the house clean. I can't let the kids see me like this. It's too much for them to comprehend and I don't want them to be affected by this bizarre side to Aunt Sherrie.
I want to rage. I want to scream and cry and break things, but I have to just subdue myself until it passes. It's nothing new. It's just that my head is all fucked up and there's not a fucking thing that I can do about it.
I hate myself sometimes. I really, really do.
