Month: October 2012

Five Reasons You’re a Bad Customer

Unless you have somehow discovered a magical way to buy every single thing you will ever need online (I still haven’t found a Taco Bell that delivers after you hit ‘confirm purchase’), you have probably been to a store.  At said store, a human being (I know, shocker!) has probably rung up your purchase.  You have more than likely even exchanged money or a credit card or have (gasp!) touched someone else!  The horror!  Who do these people think they are?  They’re taking your money in exchange for goods and services!  Well, welcome to reality, these lovely retail associates are just doing their jobs.  And guess what?  You’re probably being really rude to them, along with society as a whole, just because you believe they’re ripping you off or any number of excuses you give because parting with your cash is such a travesty for you.  Sure, they get paid to stand behind a counter and accept money, but trust me, it’s not enough to make life worthwhile.  Honestly, it’s probably not even enough money to live on.  So cut retail employees a break.  Stop making their lives hell.  Here are five reasons why you’re a bad customer.  Read these and knock them off and you might just make a sales associate’s (okay, you just might make my) day.

1.  You bring outside food into the store.
First off, if there’s a big sign that says NO OUTSIDE FOOD ALLOWED, what makes you think you’re beyond the sign?  What did the sign ever do to you?  If you’re two years old, and say, can’t read a sign, then you may be forgiven (but what are you doing in a store without a parent anyway…), but there is a reason that sign is in place.  It’s a goddamned warning to keep your Starbucks or your french fries or, the worst of them all, your Flaming Hot Cheetos, away from the merchandise.  Not only do you make a gigantic mess and not clean it up, but there’s the added bonus of when you go to reach for your money, that your hands are disgusting and full of sticky red powder.  And now your money is full of sticky red powder.  And now I have to touch your sticky red powder.  It’s gross and unsanitary and it makes baby kittens cry.  I know you just can’t wait a whole 20 seconds for me to push six buttons on my register and tell you a price before you dig your unwashed hands into a greasy bag of popcorn.  It’s in a bag.  Usually more than one.  It’s not like I am pouring butter-covered kernels into your hands.  Jesus Christ, don’t shove four handfuls of popcorn into your greedy mouth before you touch your $20 bill so now I am touching your grease by association.  I won’t even mention how you’ll probably spill half of it on your way out and leave me with a nice gift of your chewed up gum you spit on the floor.  There’s a garbage can ten feet away.  Are you telling me you’re so lazy that you can’t take five steps (which you will take anyway because it’s on your way out of the store) to spit your gum in the trash?  You’re so gross.

2.  You keep your money in your bra, armpit, sock, etc.
To go along with #1, no one wants to touch your money that’s been near a place where you sweat.  It doesn’t make it any better if you turn around to attempt to wedge your debit card from underneath your bra strap.  There is only one point in time where keeping stuff on your person is acceptable, and that is if a: you wear a bra and b: you are at the bar, not carrying a purse, don’t have pockets, and don’t have a boy to hold your ID and/or money.  That’s IT.  You have a purse the size of a football helmet.  PUT YOUR MONEY IN YOUR GODDAMNED PURSE.  I don’t want to have to smell your B.O. just because you want to buy a Diet Pepsi.  As another added bonus, your money is probably wet and makes the cash drawer a hot mess.  Nobody is going to be able to carry, let alone steal, your gigantic bag that cost more than I make in a month.  You’re still so gross.

3.  You ignore all visible signage.
Taped right onto the counter or next to the register are a few simple signs.  Some of them don’t even have words; they’re mere pictures that suggest a thought or idea.  For example, those little cardboard rectangles that have two circles interlocked together and say the word “MASTERCARD” on them means that yes, we do take credit cards, including your beloved debit card that has the word “MASTERCARD” plastered all over it.  So when you come in, don’t even say hello or acknowledge that I greeted you and bark at me “DO YOU TAKE CREDIT CARDS?” and then look stupefied when I point to the visual representations of all the credit cards we accept, and proceed to speak louder and ask the same dumb ass question like I didn’t hear you the first time, you’re a moron.  When you ask for change and I point to the sign that states “WE DO NOT GIVE OUT CHANGE,” and then act like I’m killing your puppy because I won’t give you four quarters and then start arguing with me about it like I should open my drawer for no reason just so you, your highness, can catch the bus, you need to get a clue.  But if you can’t read a price tag that is stuck on every single thing we sell and continually demand for me to tell you how much something costs when it is RIGHT THERE IN YOUR FACE, just get out.  You’re not going to buy it anyway.  Open your eyes.

4.  You cut in front of people in line/you take over the counter when you’re not ready to check out.
Why do people do this?  No really.  You see the line that’s four people deep, all of them being A+ customers and either holding their future purchases or carrying them in a shopping bag/basket/cart we readily provide, and you think you can just jump in front of the person who I’m currently ringing up, take up valuable counter space with your 14 bags of salt and sour chips and then glare at me when I ignore you and push your stuff out of the way.  Seriously?  How rude are you??  Just because you are too ignorant to glance up from your texts doesn’t mean you can storm in front of people who are patiently waiting.  Get to the back of the line.  As for part B, if you are the only person in here or have a huge purchase, by all means, I will hold your stuff at the front while you continue to shop.  But if there’s a line forming and I ask if you’re ready to check out and you proceed to hold up said line because three of your four kids haven’t found what they want yet, why did you come to the register in the first place?  Do you think you’re so special that I’m going to stand here and wait for ten minutes while I have other people who ARE ready to check out rolling their eyes at you?  Just because you think you’re the shit, doesn’t mean anyone else does.

5.  You think it’s funny to touch/attempt to touch the cashier and/or make inappropriate comments.
I don’t get paid to put up with harassment, hon.  Get out, or I will call security to escort you out.  You never EVER inappropriately touch someone at their workplace.  You don’t try to shove me or grab my arm or touch my hair.  As for you…you’re just an overall asshole along with being a bad customer.  Peace out.


I know this is the second rant I’ve done about this, including some Black Friday post I made a couple of years ago over on tumblr.  Let’s be real, there are so many more reasons why you’re a bad customer.  This is the song that never ends.  Yes, it goes on and on, my friends…

Where I talk about Degrassi before I talk about Degrassi…

I don’t remember how old I was when I started to watch Degrassi (this would be Degrassi High, okay.  I know.).  All I remember is that I got in trouble for it, even though it was on my beloved PBS.  PBS had Square One Television and Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?!  How could PBS ever show a program that I wasn’t supposed to watch??  Well, it was on later in the evening and I remember someone killing themselves and then some stuff about sex, and that was all it took for PBS to get the blacklist in my house any time after 5pm.  But I grew up.  And after said grown up things happened, I was surfing through cable at two in the morning and I saw this show where the girl from some Disney show about a hospital that I used to watch was in some weirdo courtroom talking about how she was date raped.  That girl was Paige Michalchuk, and oh, that show was a spin-off of the one I got banned from watching way back in the day.  Thank god for those never-ending marathons The N used to have.  It’s pretty safe to say I stayed up all night catching up on the show that will not die, and I have spent many nights after that doing the exact same thing.

Of course, when I figured out what the show was, I had to start all the way at the beginning and jumped on the internet to see what I was missing, and what was this?  Banned episodes??  Characters that went all the way back to the 80’s??  Is this shit on DVD??  Thankfully, the answer to that question was HELL YES because when you watch Degrassi, you can’t just watch one episode.  Oh no.  That would be way too easy.  This shit sucks you in more than a string of infomercials that come on when you’re drunk and too lazy to change the channel where you seriously think that the Six Week Body Makeover could really change your life, or if you just owned a Magic Bullet that you could be eating fresh salsa in mere seconds.  I can go through a season of this shit in a couple days if I’m lucky, just by watching it when I’m ready to go to bed.  And I will marathon this freaking show until my eyeballs fall out.  Some of it is not that great.  In fact, some of it is a bigger waste of time than searching youtube for cat videos (I’m looking at you, season 9).  But it’s so soap-y, so dramatic, it’s like a goddamned trainwreck.  Name something horrible that can happen to a teenager, and it’s happened on Degrassi.  Oh yeah.  It goes there.  Or at least it used to.

Lately, a lot of the plot points are coming straight from earlier seasons, like the kids who are watching now couldn’t possibly have watched season 3, so we get a rehash of something that’s been done before.  Sometimes I care.  Sometimes I don’t.  A lot of the time, it’s worse the second time around, but if you get really lucky, the newest set of Degrassi kids (minus the Next Generation tagline) can have a leg up.  I’m going to go through each season individually and make an ass out of myself later for how much I get into a tween telenovela, but for now, here’s a list of the characters that I want to keep in my pocket forever and the ones that I want to push off a cliff.  You’ve been warned.

Here there are spoilers through the first part of season 11! (more…)

Dumb Things Boys Do at the Bar – Part 1

On Thursday, I had the pleasure of going to my favorite local watering hole to partake in some musical entertainment and participate in ballroom dancing…just kidding.  Dude, I went to the bar.  It was ladies night, come on.  Every time I go there, I feel like the boys just get more and more ridiculous.  Plus, it’s hit or miss on a Thursday.  Let’s be real, girls get in for free, which means there will be a lot of women dressed in very little clothing.  However, guys know this and will pay money to show up and troll while we drink our $2.50 long islands.  The bar I go to is huge.  We’re talking multiple rooms, several bands, beer garden, etc.  Mostly, you can find the dumb guys hanging out and smoking while one or two of their friends toss some beanbags into a wooden box with a hole in it.  This Thursday, though, a huge section of the place was closed off for remodeling, which meant that the main band only played one set (the main reason why we came) and then the biggest room morphed into a dance club so the DJ could close out the night.


There are a lot of idiots on the dance floor, friends.

So now I present to you “Dumb Things Boys Do at the Bar” part one in a series.  Trust me, every time I go, I will add to this list.


Dumb Thing #1 – Staring at Women in a Creepy Fashion

It’s one thing to be a creeper and you know it (insert some LMFAO lyric here).  Sadly, in today’s society, I am used to being grabbed from behind by some dude I’ve never met before.  But this time, there was a creeper that came up behind me, stayed a respectable distance away, and stared at my chest every time I turned around, along with my friend’s boobs while my back was turned.  Didn’t try to dance with us.  Didn’t try to talk to either one of us.  He just stood close enough to almost breathe down my neck and had a massive case of wide eyes.  I didn’t even know I was there until my friend yelled in my ear, “CHECK OUT THAT CREEPER BEHIND YOU!”  Turned around.  Didn’t make eye contact.  Just stared.

Seriously?  Please tell me what good that does anyone.  If you want to dance, let’s dance.  If you want to talk, say something.  Anything.  “How’s the weather?” would have even been okay if your brain couldn’t function enough to come up with a shitty pick up line.  Let’s be real, if we are drunk enough, those are funny enough.  Eventually, he moved away when we left the area to go back to the bar, but the stare, dear god, the stare.  I guess I’m not one for the not-as-stalkerish silent type.


Dumb Thing #2 – Random Dance-Offs

Let me preface this dumb thing by saying that if a guy is with a group of his male friends and wants to see who can do the best robot between all of them, go for it.  That shit can be hysterical.  However, when one random dude grabs me or one of my friends to show us his “moves,” (which can only really be described as a chicken running in circles with its head cut off while hopping on one leg) and then another random dude he doesn’t even know decides, “hey, it’s time for a showdown!” and then attempts to pop lock after throwing even more girls into the mix, it’s time to take a breather.  Watching guys have a contest to see who can shake their butt the fastest does not make girls want to sleep with them.  On the contrary, it makes us want to watch in horror for fifteen seconds, scream obscenities at the DJ for playing a horrid Gotye remix and then take some shots to get the image out of our minds.  The worst/best part happens when so many people join in that there’s a goddamned circle like you see at weddings, but only two drunken idiots are the ones in the center, seeing who can perform the world’s worst moonwalk.  The guys will even forget the girls they started out to impress and go all out to best one another.

Sorry, I didn’t know my trip to the dance floor would include a walk-on role in Step Up 17: Barmageddon.  Someone’s gonna get kicked in the face with your Zumba moves that you try to make look tougher by throwing in some MMA-style punches every once in awhile.  Are you fighting?  Are you dancing?  Did I accidentally wander into a rap version of West Side Story?  Usher would be rolling his eyes at you dudes.  And you don’t even notice when we leave to go to the bathroom.  By the time all the girls get back, all we hear is a chorus of “I love you man!”  “No, bro, I love YOU!” as some Rihanna song deafens us for life.  Please stop this.  I don’t want to get a robot elbow to the jaw while listening to some auto-tuned mess.


Next night out, I’m sticking to the bar.  The boys there at least know how to buy girls shots.  Guess what, guys?  You’re doing it right.

Anything that claims to be “no chip” is obviously lying (why I will never get another manicure with gel polish)

Apologies for the lack of posts.  I went on vacation for the weekend for my baby niece’s birthday and my days were filled with trips to the pumpkin patch and smiles the size of the equator.  Next time I’ll put some in the queue.

Anyway, before I went on vacation, I went to the nail salon to get a “no chip” manicure.  For anyone who doesn’t know what they are, it’s a manicure that’s not supposed to chip.  Wonk, wonk.  Basically, you use a special polish and stick your hands in some device that has a light inside and your manicure is supposed to be perfect for a couple of weeks.  First of all, that shit took FOREVER.  Like, longer than an hour.  I know, manicures are supposed to be relaxing or whatever, but I like to get in, get out and get on with my day.  Secondly, I used an OPI polish because I read somewhere that if you use a regular gel polish, your nails will get weak and break or tear off, and since I always get complimented on what nice nails I have when I get them done, I was not about to have some zombie hands, no matter how close it is to Halloween.  Of course, I looked through all the swatches, and what do I pick without even knowing the name of the polish?  OPI Ink AKA my go-to purple.  I wear that shit ALL THE TIME, but somehow, it looked different when it was a gel.

I’ll give it to the “no chip,” that shit dried quickly and didn’t smudge, even when I accidentally bumped my hand against the back of the machine that has the light inside.  But then I got home.  And then I realized that on one of my nails, my tech didn’t buff a piece of glitter off or something and there was a giant bubble.  Now, I have this thing where I paint all the way down to my cuticles.  I don’t like there to be any part of my nail exposed.  Well, not only were the sides of my nails bare, but down towards my cuticles, the coats of polish were so thin that I could peel the shit off.  Seriously?  I had peel off nail polish in a Tinkerbell bottle when I was a kid, I certainly don’t need that now.  And finally, I got a giant chip on the tip of my index finger on my left hand after THREE DAYS.  #1: I am right handed.  That’s not even my dominant hand.  #2: How the hell did it chip on the side?  I purposely watched what I was doing so I wouldn’t get chips, and yet, there it was.  On a “no chip” freaking manicure.

Needless to say, by the time my vacation was over, (with seven days total wear time) I had an entire nail full of polish that was peeling off by itself and a giant chip on my left hand’s thumb, which caused my nail to break.  And to get that shit “soaked off?”  It’s just the foil method.  I do that myself when I’m working with a really gnarly glitter polish.  Plus, just before I got the first chip, I realized how bored I was with one color and that I couldn’t even put any glitter top coat over it or it would defeat the purpose.  Next time I go on vacation, I’ll just bring an emergency polish with me in case my nails start to look rough.  Never again, gel polish manicure, never again.

10 Things I Hate About You (jk, this is ten things you will hate about me)

Right now I should be doing any number of things (because I’m going on vacation in less than 100 hours) and none of them are writing this blog post.  However, since I have to wait for my iPhone to charge 15% more and I promised people I would start this, here it is.  If you don’t know who I am, well…tough.  Or we can be friends.  Either is cool.  If you do know who I am, then you’ll probably enjoy this more than anybody else.  By day I work retail, along with anything else I can get my hands on.  By night, I am Batman.


Or, you know, I just write blog posts where I amuse myself.  Only myself.


So here are ten things that you may or may not know about me that will either make you click on through or read awhile longer.  Ready?  Okay.

  1. Glitterbots are the robots from the Rainbow Brite and the Star Stealer movie.  They do not like glitter, nor do they like color, even though I believe they were yellow.  I, on the other hand, am not a robot.  I like glitter on my nails, but that’s about it.  I know, my username is inherently awesome.  You wish you would have yanked it from a 1980’s cartoon before I stole it.
  2. Speaking of nails, I am obsessed with nail polish.  No, really.  I could house a nail salon from my play room.  I suck at doing anything but painting them, though.  I can’t draw to save my life.  Sometimes, I can’t even color inside the lines.  You will see proof of this soon.
  3. It’s really hard for me to be typing with capital letters right now.  I usually make a stylistic choice to exclude them unless I’m doing something professional.  Is this professional?  Something like that.
  4. I can quote Mean Girls like nobody’s business.  I also like to bring it up in any conversation imaginable.  Lindsay Lohan was so good before she got so bad.  She needs to get off the goofballs and go back to Tina Fey comedies.
  5. I love almost every reality television competition show, but my favorite show of all time is Degrassi.  It doesn’t matter if it’s Junior High, or High, or the Next Generation, or plain old Degrassi, I love them all.  However, I haven’t seen past season ten yet.  We will talk about this.  Spoil me and die.
  6. I have a beautiful niece/god daughter, and I love her to pieces.  This will be the only numbered statement not filled with some kind of acerbic wit or sarcasm.
  7. My favorite singer is Meat Loaf.  I make no apologies for this.  I saw him live for the first time this year and got to meet him and it was just magical.  Sadly, I did not ask him to marry me.  He’s old enough to be my dad.  I’m okay with that.
  8. Speaking of marriage, I am currently looking for a Mr. Glitterbots.  Where are you?  I can bake cookies from a pre-packaged log!  I have a really nice television with theater quality sound!  I have a 360 I don’t even play!  You could be blasting people on Call of Duty ALL THE TIME.  No?  Bueller?  Life.
  9. If I’m not in the first three rows of any concert, I will pout.  I’ve sadly gotten used to the VIP treatment.  If I don’t get sweated on by some band member, my attendance will have been in vain.  That’s just how I roll.
  10. I’m convinced that everything you need to learn in life you can learn from The Simpsons.  My theory has yet to be proven wrong.  But don’t get smart and try to do it now because I only watch the damned episodes on DVD and I have currently lost my remote.  My heart bleeds.

That’s it.  Someone remind me to link up all my friends and the junk I read daily sometime soon.  It’s mostly all beauty blogs and shit like Hacking Netflix.  Did I mention I curse like a sailor?  There’s #11.  I’ll try to be good.  Mostly.


PS: My iPhone is charged to 94% now.  Good enough, my friends, good enough.