Happy Fourth! Those of you who are intelligent, open-minded or actual friends, please try not to die! For any ignorant, homophobic, Bible-thumping pricks who happen to be reading this, please make sure not to let go of the firework. Pointing it at your face might be a good idea too.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Darwin Awards
Seeing as this is "Get Drunk and Blow Shit Up" Day, (aka Independence Day or Fourth of July) I'm sure that somebody, right now, is preparing to kill themselves by complete accident. This is sometimes known as a case of terminal stupidity, and is illustrated by the picture below-
Happy Fourth! Those of you who are intelligent, open-minded or actual friends, please try not to die! For any ignorant, homophobic, Bible-thumping pricks who happen to be reading this, please make sure not to let go of the firework. Pointing it at your face might be a good idea too.
Happy Fourth! Those of you who are intelligent, open-minded or actual friends, please try not to die! For any ignorant, homophobic, Bible-thumping pricks who happen to be reading this, please make sure not to let go of the firework. Pointing it at your face might be a good idea too.
Deep Thoughts, pt 2
Have you ever done something really, really stupid? Hmm... Not the best question... I'll think of a better way to put it...
If you've ever worked a customer service job, you probably know the perils of making promises that you're not certain you can keep. Getting a customer's expectations up is equivalent to taping a sign to your own arse that says "I deserve to be screamed at!" So it's really strange that I did just that thing tonight, knowing what I was asking for. What's even more strange is how it paid off.
A customer called tonight, asking if we had a particular item. It took a good fifteen minutes to figure out if we even had it in the store. Then, it turns out that this item might be recalled. The customer doesn't want to drive an hour just to find out that they can't buy the darn thing (pretty understandable) so I agree to write down her phone number and call her back when I figure out what she needs. This was definitely against my better judgment. As it turns out, I managed to figure the problem out and call her back within fifteen minutes. They said 'thanks,' I said 'no prob,' and thought that was the end of it. Imagine my surprise when the husband saunters up to the desk to compliment the girl on the service desk who helped his wife out. Yeah, it was me. He ended up talking with the manager for my department, singing my praises the whole time.
I cannot remember the last time I have felt that kind of euphoria within the bounds of my retail prison. It wasn't just that I was getting a compliment. Yeah, that's great, but I was also filled with that sense of honest happiness that you feel when you know you've done something nice, or accomplished something impressive.
Uck. I'm tired and rambling right now, but I guess the lesson I learned tonight is that doing something a little stupid is sometimes the right choice. Just don't be too much of an idiot.
And now for something completely different!
That was just to make sure nobody will accuse me of "growing up" or "being mature." =)
If you've ever worked a customer service job, you probably know the perils of making promises that you're not certain you can keep. Getting a customer's expectations up is equivalent to taping a sign to your own arse that says "I deserve to be screamed at!" So it's really strange that I did just that thing tonight, knowing what I was asking for. What's even more strange is how it paid off.
A customer called tonight, asking if we had a particular item. It took a good fifteen minutes to figure out if we even had it in the store. Then, it turns out that this item might be recalled. The customer doesn't want to drive an hour just to find out that they can't buy the darn thing (pretty understandable) so I agree to write down her phone number and call her back when I figure out what she needs. This was definitely against my better judgment. As it turns out, I managed to figure the problem out and call her back within fifteen minutes. They said 'thanks,' I said 'no prob,' and thought that was the end of it. Imagine my surprise when the husband saunters up to the desk to compliment the girl on the service desk who helped his wife out. Yeah, it was me. He ended up talking with the manager for my department, singing my praises the whole time.
I cannot remember the last time I have felt that kind of euphoria within the bounds of my retail prison. It wasn't just that I was getting a compliment. Yeah, that's great, but I was also filled with that sense of honest happiness that you feel when you know you've done something nice, or accomplished something impressive.
Uck. I'm tired and rambling right now, but I guess the lesson I learned tonight is that doing something a little stupid is sometimes the right choice. Just don't be too much of an idiot.
And now for something completely different!
That was just to make sure nobody will accuse me of "growing up" or "being mature." =)
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Me, My Temper, and I
Disclaimer: I get violent when I'm angry. If you're faint of heart or weak of stomach, stop here. If you're eating... you should still probably stop here.
If you've heard read my rants about Wal-Mart, stupid people, and other things that make me angry, you probably have a decent idea of what my temper is like. From what I understand, Irish girls usually have a quick temper that burns hot enough to strike fear into the heart of any man... and certain National Parks. That stereotype might have gotten started by one of my ancestors.
Tonight, for instance, I had to leave work fifteen minutes early to ensure that I did not eviscerate a customer. (Mind you, eviscerating her would have been one hell of a job. She was at least three times my girth.)
All the same, when a morbidly obese woman waddles up to the customer service desk and demands to know why we don't have more cashiers, then curses and informs me the best method of doing somebody else's job before stalking and jiggling off, it's really hard not to kill her. If I did kill her, here's how I would have done it...
I think my implement of choice would have been a very dull, very rusty spoon, but I didn't have many of those on hand. A pen or box-cutter would have sufficed. I would have slashed and stabbed my way through all of her kin until I reached my true victim. Binding her wrists and ankles, I would have flayed her blubbery ass alive and stretched her bloody skin across the entrance to the service desk. I would have ground her eyes, heart and teeth into a bloody paste, which I would then use to paint "FUCK OFF" across her hide. I would make sure that the remaining organs were full of holes, to ensure that nobody would salvage them and perpetuate such flawed DNA. Then I would have clocked out and flipped off every customer between my car and myself. Lastly, just to put the metaphorical cherry on top, I would go find somebody's chihuahua and run the little bastard over... Gawd, I hate those dogs.
~Le sigh.~ I feel better, now. It's just really, really crappy to be treated like dirt and yelled at for something that's not my fault! It's not even in my power to change! It's not in anyone's power to change! What are we supposed to do? Yank out cashiers' fingernails until they agree to work overnights? Jesus, people! If you want more cashiers at Wal-Mart at almost 10 at night, take the job yourself! Otherwise, keep your bloody mouth shut. Fifteen minutes in a line is not going to kill you...
I should find an anger management class, instead of taking my rage out on chairs that I find by a dumpster... Poor chair never hurt anybody before... Never will, now that I'm done with the damn thing...
If you've heard read my rants about Wal-Mart, stupid people, and other things that make me angry, you probably have a decent idea of what my temper is like. From what I understand, Irish girls usually have a quick temper that burns hot enough to strike fear into the heart of any man... and certain National Parks. That stereotype might have gotten started by one of my ancestors.
Tonight, for instance, I had to leave work fifteen minutes early to ensure that I did not eviscerate a customer. (Mind you, eviscerating her would have been one hell of a job. She was at least three times my girth.)
All the same, when a morbidly obese woman waddles up to the customer service desk and demands to know why we don't have more cashiers, then curses and informs me the best method of doing somebody else's job before stalking and jiggling off, it's really hard not to kill her. If I did kill her, here's how I would have done it...
I think my implement of choice would have been a very dull, very rusty spoon, but I didn't have many of those on hand. A pen or box-cutter would have sufficed. I would have slashed and stabbed my way through all of her kin until I reached my true victim. Binding her wrists and ankles, I would have flayed her blubbery ass alive and stretched her bloody skin across the entrance to the service desk. I would have ground her eyes, heart and teeth into a bloody paste, which I would then use to paint "FUCK OFF" across her hide. I would make sure that the remaining organs were full of holes, to ensure that nobody would salvage them and perpetuate such flawed DNA. Then I would have clocked out and flipped off every customer between my car and myself. Lastly, just to put the metaphorical cherry on top, I would go find somebody's chihuahua and run the little bastard over... Gawd, I hate those dogs.
~Le sigh.~ I feel better, now. It's just really, really crappy to be treated like dirt and yelled at for something that's not my fault! It's not even in my power to change! It's not in anyone's power to change! What are we supposed to do? Yank out cashiers' fingernails until they agree to work overnights? Jesus, people! If you want more cashiers at Wal-Mart at almost 10 at night, take the job yourself! Otherwise, keep your bloody mouth shut. Fifteen minutes in a line is not going to kill you...
I should find an anger management class, instead of taking my rage out on chairs that I find by a dumpster... Poor chair never hurt anybody before... Never will, now that I'm done with the damn thing...
Friday, June 27, 2008
Deep Thoughts, pt 1
Mmkay, anybody here ever heard of Fable? If you haven't, I pity you. It's some of the most fun you can have with your clothes on (unless you do a lot of gaming in the nude). Pretty good Action/Adventure game, set in a Fantasy world. The thing I love about it is the Personality/Alignment system. Every little choice you make affects whether you're evil or good, naughty or nice. Known for beating on civilians? People will run from you in terror. Defended a village under siege by bandits? Townsfolk will cheer and whistle as you pass. Wear dark and creepy clothes? Girls won't respond to your advances. Eat the wrong kinds of foods? You'll get fat.
It's only a game, but I can't help but think deep thoughts about how very similar that is to real life. We are shaped, affected, by every single little choice we make. Should you eat baked chicken or fried zucchini? Do you replace the toilet paper when you use it up? Do you go out of your way to be nice to somebody, or snicker and tell them how horrible they look in that color? When a baby starts crying on a plane, do you shrug it off or glare daggers at the parents?
Sure, villagers probably won't go running in terror from you, and children probably won't cheer and collect dolls in your image, but I can't deny that Fable is, in some respects, so very real. So much of us is made up of all our 'little' choices.
It's only a game, but I can't help but think deep thoughts about how very similar that is to real life. We are shaped, affected, by every single little choice we make. Should you eat baked chicken or fried zucchini? Do you replace the toilet paper when you use it up? Do you go out of your way to be nice to somebody, or snicker and tell them how horrible they look in that color? When a baby starts crying on a plane, do you shrug it off or glare daggers at the parents?
Sure, villagers probably won't go running in terror from you, and children probably won't cheer and collect dolls in your image, but I can't deny that Fable is, in some respects, so very real. So much of us is made up of all our 'little' choices.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Rings n Things
SWEET AND MUSHY ALERT!!!
I've totally been putting this off...
So, anybody who reads Herr Doktor's blog will know that he wishes to marry me.
Nothing could make me happier.
Brian is, hands down, the best partner I've ever had. He takes care of me, supports me, and goes far out of his way to make sure that I have a good day. Every day. He gets along great with my family, and he's not bothered by the fact that one of my brothers is autistic. He's always sweet and understanding, and doesn't mind indulging my goofy and/or geeky tendencies. He's intelligent, and, even if I weren't in love with him, he'd be a blast to hang around. It feels like we match in every way. Oh. And he's really, really hawt. Like, sizzling-to-the-touch hawt. I am convinced that I am the luckiest girl in the world to have him.
Technically, we're not engaged yet. We must still decide upon a ring which is pleasing to both our tastes and our coffers, and Brian still has to get down on bended knee. All the same, the last couple weeks have felt... Different. The future is a little more certain, and I feel just a little happier.
For me, Brian is proof that prayers really are answered.
I've totally been putting this off...
So, anybody who reads Herr Doktor's blog will know that he wishes to marry me.
Nothing could make me happier.
Brian is, hands down, the best partner I've ever had. He takes care of me, supports me, and goes far out of his way to make sure that I have a good day. Every day. He gets along great with my family, and he's not bothered by the fact that one of my brothers is autistic. He's always sweet and understanding, and doesn't mind indulging my goofy and/or geeky tendencies. He's intelligent, and, even if I weren't in love with him, he'd be a blast to hang around. It feels like we match in every way. Oh. And he's really, really hawt. Like, sizzling-to-the-touch hawt. I am convinced that I am the luckiest girl in the world to have him.
Technically, we're not engaged yet. We must still decide upon a ring which is pleasing to both our tastes and our coffers, and Brian still has to get down on bended knee. All the same, the last couple weeks have felt... Different. The future is a little more certain, and I feel just a little happier.
For me, Brian is proof that prayers really are answered.
Digital Purgatory
For those of you who haven't noticed, I'm not Christian anymore. I was raised Catholic by a very strict mother, which is basically what killed it for me. All the same, lets assume that maybe, maybe, there is a Hell. I will be in the best of company when (if) I finally go there.
George Carlin was a fantastic comedian. He had a certain disregard for what was good and/or proper, which I admired greatly. He made jokes about disgusting, terrible things, which I admired even more. And he approached the subject of religion with a biting, vicious sarcasm that made it clear that this was a man after my own heart.
Perhaps it's silly of me to miss someone so much without ever.jpg)
having met them... Yeah, fuck that noise. I identified with George, I loved his sense of humor, I thought more people should listen to his points regarding religion, and I'm sorry that he's gone.
Perhaps that's why there's a brand spanking new folder on my desktop with the title "Dead People." It already plays host to four departed souls that I think the world is worse off without, one of them being the revered Mr. Carlin. He will always be towards the front of my Purgatory Parade. (Those not getting the joke should look up his "It's bad for ya!" HBO special.)
Farewell, George. We'll miss you.
George Carlin May 12, 1937 - June 22, 2008
George Carlin was a fantastic comedian. He had a certain disregard for what was good and/or proper, which I admired greatly. He made jokes about disgusting, terrible things, which I admired even more. And he approached the subject of religion with a biting, vicious sarcasm that made it clear that this was a man after my own heart.
Perhaps it's silly of me to miss someone so much without ever
.jpg)
having met them... Yeah, fuck that noise. I identified with George, I loved his sense of humor, I thought more people should listen to his points regarding religion, and I'm sorry that he's gone.Perhaps that's why there's a brand spanking new folder on my desktop with the title "Dead People." It already plays host to four departed souls that I think the world is worse off without, one of them being the revered Mr. Carlin. He will always be towards the front of my Purgatory Parade. (Those not getting the joke should look up his "It's bad for ya!" HBO special.)
Farewell, George. We'll miss you.
George Carlin May 12, 1937 - June 22, 2008
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
~POOF~
You can learn a lot from trees. How to stand tall. When the seasons change. The importance of girth. But, sexual innuendo aside, trees really can be amazing. For instance-About a week ago, nearly every tree in Laramie was bereft of leaves. Since it still snows this late in the year, it was still too risky for them to bloom. They knew this. And yet, in one week's time, every deciduous tree in this entire suck-hole has donned fresh, green raiment. Soft, shiny leaves have emerged so damn fast that I didn't even notice the transition. It was just BAM! Lookit me, I'mma leafy tree!
Don't you wish people could be like that? Ever wanted to always know what was too risky? Wanted to wait with infinite patience for the perfect opportunity? Wished you could get something done before anyone can blink? Those are skills I would kill to have. It doesn't seem fair that trees just start that way.
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