I'm With The Band....

When I was 14 I read the book, I'm With The Band. A story of a woman who was a groupie for all sorts of bands from the 60's and 70's and I decided this was gonna be my life too. I went so far as to send fan mail to bands and send sexy pics of myself to Bret Michaels of Poison fame. I was determined to be a groupie. Now who would really want to be a groupie? Their lives are kind of sad and silly. But I wanted it to be me because it seemed glamorous to me at 14. I ended up buying tickets to all the Poison concerts I could find and I even bought a teddy bear with a t-shirt on it that said I Love Bret and I threw it on stage. I know he got it because I was front and center and he picked it up and smiled at me. That was probably my shining moment. And it was as close to the band as I'd ever get. I never really got my groupie off the ground. Perhaps because I was so young? I wouldn't have even known what to do if I got backstage! But I was still determined to try.

The concerts were something that I lived for, but I had some interesting experiences at them. At the aforementioned Poison concert someone punched me in the back really super hard, so I reeled around and punched a dude in the face. Like straight up punched the shit out of him and he didn't know what to do. He wasn't going to hit a girl I guess, so he just got his girlfriend to get in my face and I was like, "bitch please!" And I shoved her back, and the next thing I knew everyone was fighting in the pit. I caused this mayhem. Oops. My bad. I just laughed though and kept rocking out as I moved away from the melee and onto a better spot to stand.

At another concert I was with some friends and my friend Sara got trampled by a crowd and lost her white Ked shoe. She was okay as I pulled her out of the pit, but her shoe was gone. We couldn't find it. And it resurfaced later on when some idiot threw it on the stage and hit Bret Michaels in the face with it! We were like, "OMG your shoe just hit Bret in the face!" So exciting. Of course he was pissed and stopped the show and was like, "WTF you assholes?!" But we just screamed, "That's our shoe!" And he threw it back into the crowd. But no, we never saw that shoe again after it's short lived brush with fame.

Shortly after the shoe incident, I got lost in the crowd away from my friends. I couldn't find any of them and ended up behind this dude who was smoking pot. Now I was 14 and had never smoked weed before. I'd never even seen it at this point of my life (my corruption came when I was 15...) But I had no idea what was going on, except I suspected it was pot. I wasn't an imbecile. It didn't smell like a cigarette. But my mistake was when he'd exhale it, the cloud of smoke would go right in my face and I'd breathe in and hold my breath so as not to get it in my lungs. Brilliant move, eh? Little did I realize, I was actually re-smoking his pot cloud and I have never been so high before. It was my first time. And I didn't even know what was happening to me.

I just knew I was fucking high as a kite. And I was lost in a  huge arena and couldn't find my friends. I was dressed in a leopard print jumpsuit (I know, I know....but I wanted to get back stage!) So I'm in this trashy outfit and I'm young and blonde and pretty and all these fucking men kept asking me if I needed help as I wandered around the arena looking for my friend Sara, but I didn't even know where we were originally standing. I had to fend off all these wannabe rockers, while stoned, until I found my friend David. I didn't even know he was there, but I was like, "OMG, bless you David!" and I hung onto him for dear life and begged him to help me find Sara. He was her neighbor and I was staying at her house so I figured if nothing else, I'd just go home with him and meet her later. I wasn't exactly thinking straight.

But David helped me find the entrance and the concert had ended by this time. So we waited and waited until Sara finally came out because she'd been looking for me. We all hugged and life was good, but forget about going backstage. I couldn't even stand up! This was pretty much our car ride home with Sara's mom driving us. With me singing along to the radio and wondering if anyone could tell I was high out of my mind. Probably. I didn't want to tell anyone though, but I'm pretty sure David knew. It was one of the best nights of my life. But my love of hair metal ended about a year later and I gave up that quest. I never got to be a groupie. But I did see some amazing concerts and I have some great stories to tell, I wish I was 14 again.....

I was a Dead Head once....

It was the summer of 91 and I had tickets to a Grateful Dead show. I was seventeen years old and so into hippie shit that I tye dyed my sheets and my entire room to match. I was WAY into it and wished I was born in the era when I could have been touring with the Grateful Dead in the 60's. But they were still going strong in the early nineties too. There were never a shortage of people who wanted to live that lifestyle. So I went to the concert and the before show was way more intense than the actual show. There were aisles and aisles of hippies selling jewelry and shirts and pot brownies and tickets. Anything you could want. And there were 5000 VW's of various types to be found. I fit right in. I had my own beaded jewelry I wanted to sell, but I kept getting hassled by cops to move and stop trying to sell shit. Which I thought was weird given how many people were walking around selling pot brownies.

There were also the people who didn't have tickets and wanted them and were holding signs saying, "I want a miracle!" and they wanted tickets. But I wasn't giving up my tickets. I think they cost me $17 back in the day. What a change from today! But I was in love with the scene. I just kept walking around and marveling at everything. There were young people like me there, and also old people who you knew had never gotten over their obsession from the 1960's. I saw naked women walking around like it was nothing, and naked men just hanging out on blankets. Everyone was insane. And the cops really stayed out of most of it. Just circling the crowds and telling me to stop selling, while everyone else did the same exact thing I was trying to do! But fuck the police. It was a love in. And they had no place there. I felt like I'd been transported back in time. I was finally able to live my dream. Being a part of a Dead concert. They didn't have bucket lists back then, but if I had one, this one would have been on it. I am SO thrilled I got to see them before Jerry Garcia passed a few years later.

The actual concert is rather a blur, but I remember being shot with water cannons filled with LSD and everything got fuzzy after that. People were everywhere and it was so peaceful and I remember dancing to Sugar Magnolia and just being in my own little world. I wanted to remember it all, but it's sadly not in my head anymore. I was buzzed out of my mind on drugs and I don't recall a lot of it. Except the feeling. I was fucking in heaven. All my life I wanted to experience the 60's and this was my shot. It didn't disappoint. I just wish I remembered more. But I still have the t-shirt I bought and I still have the tote bag I got from some vendor out in the parking lot. When people ask me about it I tell them I got it at a Dead concert and no one believes me. I guess I don't look old enough. But I am! I was there! I experienced it. And I'll never forget it. At least the parts I can remember....

This life is REAL...

I saw something last night posted on my Facebook that said, "Do you ever just sit and realize that life is real and you're real and get depressed?" And it just struck me as such a profound thought. Like this shit that happens every single day is actually REAL. The good and the bad, and there's no plan to follow or instructions to read, you just exist somehow and it's really fucking weird.

And what do people do in their spare time? They either read about or watch other people's fake lives and call it entertainment. It's like our own lives are usually very dull so we look to actors and actresses and authors to paint us pictures of lives we wish were real and that's how we pass time. Not living our own boring lives, but watching FAKE lives of people we don't know.

We can't even sleep without dreaming of fake lives. It's like our brain HAS to be occupied with some sort of living life to watch or partake in even when we're sleeping. Dreams can be meaningful, fun, weird, scary, or just plain nonsensical, and yet most of us would rather sleep and dream than get out of bed in the morning. My mind dreams up way more interesting things for my life, that's for sure. And then when you stop to think about it, how do we know what's real and what's a dream? I mean, I think this is really me typing this, but what if dreams are the real life, and this is just fantasy? True, I should be able to fantasize better than writing a blog, but what if I can't? What if this is my dream, and the dream I thought I had last night was the real life? How does a person actually know?

And what if none of this has any meaning at all? What are we even doing here? Is there a God, and if so, what's the point of all this? I mean, some people do great things in life and are humanitarians and such. But what of the rest of us who don't do anything but just exist. What is the point of a life? What purpose do I even serve in the cosmic universe of fate? When I die, no one's going to care that much. I didn't leave my stamp on the world. I never amounted to anything special. And I'm not rich nor famous. I'll have a few family members who will mourn me, but life will go on like I never existed. And what will be the point? Like what am I alive for? Why am I real? Why is this life real? And what am I supposed to do with it? I have no idea.

Now don't mistake this post for me saying I don't want to be alive. Not true. I just sometimes wonder why am I alive?? Like what's the reason? And some people will say so we can grow or learn lessons or whatever, but I'm all done learning and growing. I'm ready for some actual purpose. I don't even have any real friends or anyone to share my life with. So I'm just this solitary creature that just exists in a world that mostly sucks and I far prefer my dreams. So yes, original Facebook poster, I do get depressed when I realize that this life is real, and I'm real and all of this is really happening. Or is it? Hmmm.....

Let Me Fly

And so they all sought to capture her heart and her spirit, but she had little time or patience for them. She knew not how this disaffected nature would make them feel, but she couldn't help herself. She was alone for most of her days and while the beast of loneliness occasionally reared it's head, she was happy to be free of the burdens of other people and their expectations. She didn't worry about what anyone else thought, because there wasn't anyone else. At least in her mind.

People reached out for her, and she let their hands slip through her fingertips. She needed to have her hands free and not bound to this or that person. She had to spread her wings and fly, even if it meant leaving all she knew in the rear view mirror. She just wanted her freedom. And she was both happy and sad and scared and exhilarated all at once.
Let me be free. Don't try to clip my wings.
I'm sorry if you got hurt, but it's high time
I look out for me instead of always looking
out for everyone else. And if this makes me
a loner, then so shall it be. For I need not any
other people in my life. I travel worlds in my
mind, and live many lives. Perhaps they're all
better than the real life, so that's where she wants
to dwell? She doesn't want anyone else to bring
her back to reality. She's better in a dream.

That's where she's happy. She sometimes dreams
a wall around herself. No one else can get in.
She says things to people that she doesn't
often mean, just so they can feel important.
But the truth is, no one is really that important
anymore. And no one has penetrated her walls
enough to touch anything resembling her heart.
Though several have tried. She won't let the
guard down.

So leave her be and let her be alone. She knows
not how to behave around others any more. She
only knows peace in solitude. She is her own best
friend. She flies alone at midnight and swoops
over the land and keeps going. Forever. And ever.
The End.

My awesome vacation story....

As many of you know I just got back from a vacation to Los Angeles to see Universal Studios and the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. It was an amazing experience! But let's tell a proper story, shall we? It first started out with a plane ride. I've been on lots of planes in my day, but I haven't flown since right after 9/11 so it's been awhile. Things have changed a lot. They have those full body scanners now at the airport and you have to take off your shoes and such, then walk into this tube while you hold your hands up over your head. I honestly felt like Katniss Everdeen standing in the tube to rise up into the Hunger Games arena. But since I'm not a terrorist, I easily passed through the scanner and got my shit back and it was time to go wait for the plane.

The flight was uneventful and I must say California is one of the ugliest states ever from the air. Nothing but squares of farmland and hideously ugly mountains that look like camels backs. Not a tree in sight or any water or any houses or anything at all. Literally the most boring scenery out the window, which didn't stop me from staring out it the whole time. I'm not the best flier and used to really worry a lot that I'd crash. I just kept thinking I was on Lost and I looked at the other passengers wondering which ones might survive with me and be stranded on an island together. Which is crazy since there is no water nor islands in California, but this is how my brain works. We landed safely in Burbank and it was a mile walk to the car rental place. Then we got the car (a Dodge Dart) and headed off to the hotel.

I've never really used the GPS navigation in my phone because I literally never leave my tiny town so I don't need it. So it was my maiden voyage using it. It's really helpful! Damn. How the hell did I used to drive places that were unknown without this shit? I don't remember. But we made it to the hotel and it was awesome. We saw the shit holes that I'd seen on Priceline when I was booking rooms, and I'm so glad I picked the best hotel because the other ones were downright scary and still cost almost as much as the Hilton. I sprung an extra $200 to stay there instead of this flea bag, and it was well worth it. I don't even think hookers and crack heads would stay in the motel I originally booked. It was THAT bad. But the Hilton is fucking swanky and amazing and I felt like a celebrity. In fact the desk clerk guy was like, "You a big Harry Potter fan?" as he sees my Slytherin t-shirt. And I said yes, so he tells me to come stand over in this other spot and he's like, "That's where Rupert Grint was standing recently." I was like, "No way!" And he said, "way!" And explained how exciting it was for the cast of Harry Potter to stay at the hotel. Obviously he was a a fan too.

Unfortunately no one famous was around on my stay though. But our room was not ready when we got there, which was a huge bummer. I was tired and just wanted to check in. I had three different people all looking for a room to give us and nothing was ready so we had to wait. Then my mom, who is incredibly impatient, got it in her head to demand a fucking room. So she pesters the original guy again and is acting like we're big shots or something (which obviously we're not) and she managed to get us a room available. Don't ask me how she did it because I had no luck. But I think they gave us someone else's room because it was on the 18th floor and super nice. Down pillows and comforters and an amazing view of the park. Hogwarts was right in front of me and I was dying of anticipation to visit it. But we had to wait until the next day.

So we went to this place called the Universal City Walk, which is like a shopping and dining promenade. They have huge neon lights and it's like Time's Square or something. We ate dinner at Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. which was excellent. If you ever go there, eat the shrimp macaroni and cheese appetizer. YUMMMMMMY! And then we went shopping for stuff and spent money before even getting inside the park. But I saw some cool shit I wish I could have gotten. They had this 12 inch tall Severus Snape action figurine casting his patronus that I REALLY wanted. Except it was almost $300. A little too rich for my blood, so I passed. But it was awesome.

Then we went back to the hotel and I ordered wine from room service. I HAD to get room service because it's so much fun to do. And I ordered two glasses (my mom doesn't drink) and I pretended I was sharing the bottle when the guy came to open it and pour it for me. Then as soon as he left, I dumped glass number one into glass number two and drank the whole bottle myself. What? It's vacation! I slept pretty well that night and we got up early for the park the next day. We get there and it's packed, which surprised me since it's a Monday in October, but I guess it was Columbus Day. Boo. Who cares about that? But it made it more crowded. It didn't deter me. I tried to play it cool when we got inside and act like we could look at other shit, but I was dying to just run straight to  Harry Potter World. So that's almost what I did. I booked it past the rest of the shit and went straight to Hogsmeade.

Just seeing the sign made me want to jump up and down with delight. And then we entered the land of my people. The Potterheads. And it was brilliant. Such attention to detail in every shop window. All the employees were in Hogwarts robes with their house colors and there was Butterbeer carts everywhere and pumpkin juice and Gilly water, which I'm assuming is like Gilly weed. Either way, I had to get everything. I SO wanted to eat at the Three Broomsticks, but my mom didn't want to. So we didn't go in there :-( Same with Ollivanders wand shop. There was a line that lasted for an hour just to get in there, and 95% of the people were just little kids. I felt stupid wanting to get my own wand done, so I settled for an outdoor cart that sold just the wands of the characters. I HAD to get Snape's wand. And it was so cool and funny because I picked it out and then they escorted me to a spot behind the cart and had me hold the wand and wave it around and explained to me how I wasn't allowed to use unforgivable curses with it and I had to be careful the spells I did. I was in a good magic zone, and I needed to promise to heed that advice. I dutifully said I'd be good, so they gave me the wand. Well, they didn't GIVE it to me, I fucking paid a lot of money for it. But it was well worth it!

Then I HAD to ride the Forbidden Journey, which was inside Hogwarts castle. The wait time the first day was an hour and my mom was unable to ride with me, so she waited and I got in line and it was so fantastic inside the castle I was beside myself. Like other people were just like, "La-la-la, big deal...." and I was like, "OMFG this is amazing!!!" And I kept taking pictures and giggling and just looking at it all with wide eyed wonder. Talking portraits, the Fat Lady asking for passwords, the Mirror of Erised, House point meters (Gryffindor was winning dammit of course but Slytherin was second!) and then you entered Dumbledores office and there was this holographic video of him talking to us about the school. And then the next room had a hologram video of Harry, Ron and Hermione telling us about the important journey we had to take and what we had to do. We had to meet them in the Room of Requirement. Then you finally get to the ride itself and you have to run on a moving walkway to jump into the car.

Your legs are dangling free and they give you 3D glasses to wear and then you're off. It was such an incredible experience because it literally felt like you were flying a broom. We were flying around the castle and through the Quidditch pitch and Draco was there with Ron and Harry. And we flew and got chased by a dragon and then the Dementors showed up and Harry cast his patronus to save us. And I was laughing and screaming and cheering the entire ride. I was like a little kid honestly. Nothing has made me this happy in a long ass time. It was worth the hour long wait to me. There was so much stuff to see inside the castle during the wait, that it didn't even feel like a queue. It felt like part of the ride too.

Then there was another HP ride called Flight of the Hippogriff. It was a family friendly coaster that was really short and not near as exciting, but my mom could go on that one. We rode that the second day, three times. The wait was non-existent and one time they asked us if we wanted to just stay on and ride again, so we did. It was fun, but not as much as the other one. Unfortunately the LA Wizarding World is still fairly new so it's missing a lot of attractions and things that they have in Orlando, but it's still amazing. And I never thought I'd get to go. So I was like a kid in a candy store. Everyone was showing their house pride, people all had wands with them, and robes and t-shirts and hats and it was the biggest group of Potterheads I've ever seen in one place. It was like being with family, you know?

Of course there are other things to see at Universal. Fun things. We saw an animal show where they happened to have an owl from Harry Potter. Beautiful bird! And then lots of dogs and cats and guinea pigs and birds, etc. All animal actors. Then there was this special effects show. It was honestly kind of boring, but this creepy weird guy was hitting on my mom and kept trying to hold her hand and hug her and weird shit like that. And when it was over, we tried to get away from him fast, but he hugged us both and he's like, "you've got a great mother!" and I was like, "I know, thanks. Bye!!" and I literally almost ran away from him. Creeper! My mom was wigged out too. Then we saw him later and he's like wanting us to go on the Walking Dead tour with him or something and we're like, nope, and took off fast before he could catch up.

But speaking of the Walking Dead, that was a fun tour. It's not a ride, per say. It's a walking tour. But it's like the show and then real zombie people jump out and chase you and shit. It was SO scary! But I love being scared. I don't even watch the show and I loved the experience. It's like a really cool haunted house or something. Then we went on the studio backlot tour. They were filming some TV show I don't remember which, but there were hot sets everywhere and we had to be quiet during those parts. But then they have this 3D King Kong and Jurassic Park portion of the tour. The tour tram gets all knocked around and it looks like you're being attacked by dinosaurs and King Kong. They even spit water at you and stuff. It was a lot of fun.

Once the day wound down we went back to the hotel and decided to eat the buffet they had. Never again! I thought it'd be like $25 a person or something, but when I got the bill it was a $100 for two people! Holy shit! Back home you could get some seriously amazing food for half that price. If I had known how much it cost, I would have like taken prime rib and shoved it in my purse for later or something. It was the most expensive meal we had and it wasn't even that great. Then my mom went to bed and I went to the hotel lounge and drank overpriced Long Island Iced teas while everyone around me watched baseball. I was just on Facebook and trying to ignore the screams and hollering of everyone else because I hate baseball. Or sports in general. Except Quidditch! I'd cheer for that.

Anyways, the second day at the park was less awe inspiring only because I'd been there already. But I still wanted to spent most of my time in Hogsmeade and I rode the Forbidden Journey three times because the wait was only 10 minutes this time. And I bought WAY too many souvenirs and spent all my money, but it was so worth it. I wanted to get more, but I just couldn't. Not only was I running out of money, but it wouldn't fit in my suitcase! So I'm sorry no one got any souvenirs but I went way overboard, and then I bought my mom a Hogwarts jacket even though she doesn't even know a thing about Harry Potter. She really wanted it, so at least now she looks cool with it on.

Overall, the trip was spectacular. Everything was just like I dreamed it would be, and I wish I was still there! I know this is a long read, so thank you if you made it to the end. But I just wanted to share my experience with everyone. I never get to do fun things, so this was really meaningful to me. And I'm glad I got to share it with my mom. She took me on so many wonderful vacations when I was growing up, so I was happy to give her a vacation, on me, this time. I hope she had as much fun as I did. And I know I'll never forget it. If any of you out there get the chance to go to Universal and happen to be a Potterhead, you're in for a real treat! I can't wait to go again someday. A girl can dream...

Working for a man who doesn't know my name, who makes me wear a uniform so everybody looks the same....

As most of you know, I work in a convenience store gas station. It's a real glamorous life, let me tell you. But I got some comfort knowing that on Supernatural Castiel worked at a Gas-n-Sip when he was human. If it's good enough for him, it's good enough for me, right? But let me tell you some tales about what it's like to work there. I've done this before, but there's always something new. Like for instance I HATE the Slurpee machine. It makes a huge mess and no one ever does it right. It's a disaster waiting to happen.

This picture is a true story. Slurpee everywhere! And who has to clean it up? Moi. When I see customers going for the machine I want to kill them, or hold their hand through the process so that the picture on the right doesn't become a reality. But more often than not, this ---> is my life. You wouldn't think you'd need a degree in Slurpee making to pour one of these drinks, but trust me, you do. They shouldn't be left to wayward customers to handle.

Then you get the people who hand you money in wads they pulled out of their asses it seems. It's usually damp or wet with butt sweat and it's disgusting. And they expect me to count it out for them and half the time they walk out of the store before I'm even done. They're like, "I want this on pump 7" and run out the door. And then they get mad when the pump isn't set in three seconds. They need a good slap to the head. Please don't store your money in wads in your ass. We don't want that money, okay? Same goes for shoving it in your bra. I don't need to feel your boob sweat on my hands, thank you very much.

This happened to a co-worker of mine, but we also don't want your old shoes either. So please don't hand them to us and say we can have them. WTF are we going to do with your old skanky shoe? This shouldn't even be in the customer rule book, it should just be common sense. But apparently my work is a common sense free zone. He was new on the job and thought we were pranking him when some old woman gave him her shoes to keep. Sadly it wasn't a prank, though it would have been a funny one!

Also don't be a creeper and take pictures of us while we're working. Or worse yet, take a selfie with us without our permission just because you're a creeper and wish you were going out with us. We don't like it. We aren't monkey's at the zoo. We're doing a job and don't appreciate you whipping out your camera phone and taking a selfie with us, while saying how hot we are. Eww. Go away. This actually happened to one of my co-workers. Luckily it didn't happen to me. But now I'm the only one who will wait on him, because everyone else hides from the creeper. Guess I'm not his type. But he does call me baby which isn't cute. He actually asked my co-worker if she wanted to be naughty. *barfs* So yeah, please keep your weirdness a secret from us. We don't want it near us.

So that's a glimpse of my work life. And the saying is true, there is a Supernatural gif for everything.

Three lies and a truth...

I wanna play a little game just to see who actually reads this blog. Some of you may know me personally, and others may not. But it's a little game I like to call THREE LIES AND A TRUTH. And what I'll do is make four statements and only one of them is true. You have to answer which one is the true statement. I'm betting even those who know me personally won't get them all right. That's the fun of this game. To see who really knows you. Okay let's go!

I am fluent in German
I speak conversational Spanish
I know enough French to get me by
I know nothing about other languages

I have twelve tattoos
I have six tattoos
I have 1 tattoo
I have no tattoos

I never lie about my age
I always lie about my age
I sometimes tell people I'm older than I am
I sometimes tell people I'm younger than I am

I am 5'6"
I am 5'11"
I am 5'2"
I am the same height as I was when I was 8

I got my first cell phone a few years ago
I got my first cell phone when they first became popular
I had a car phone when literally no one else did
I don't have  a cell phone

I can type with my eyes closed
I type with one hand
I am a very slow typer
I learned to type when I was eight

I have never done a drug in my life
I routinely dabble in drugs
I smoke pot sometimes
I used to be an addict but have been clean for years now

My favorite food is sushi
My favorite food is fish and chips
My favorite food is Mexican
My favorite food is Thai

I have traveled through each of the 50 states
I have traveled through over half of the fifty states
I have never left California
I have traveled overseas

My favorite music is Country
My favorite music is Alternative
My favorite music is Classic Rock
My favorite music is Rap

I've seen a UFO
I don't believe in UFO's
I thought I saw something, but it was an airplane
I have been abducted by aliens before

The place I want to see before I die is Paris
The place I want to see before I die is Disneyland
The place I want to see before I die is Harry Potter World
The place I want to see before I die is the Grand Canyon

Alright folks. Who wants to play? Write your answers in the comments!

Teachers--The Unsung Heroes

We've all presumably gone to school and had teachers that were memorable. Some of them for not so great reasons, and others because they actually helped shape our young minds. And for some reason I've been thinking a lot about the teachers I had in school and what they meant to me. How some of them could make even the most boring subjects come to life, while others failed miserably at their jobs. I had a mixture of both kinds and we shall walk down memory lane now as I discuss the good ones.

The first teacher that really stood out in my memory was my fifth grade teacher. He looked like Superman to me. Not only was he as good looking, but he was my hero too. I was a kid no one

wanted to be friends with, and he felt sorry for me I think. Plus I was a huge nerd and the smartest of the class, so I was definitely a teachers pet. I remember there was a contest to see who could make the most creative cover art for their state report, and the winner would get to have pizza with him as a treat. I WANTED to win. So bad. Like extra bad. So I made my cover the most amazing thing ever. It was perfection and I spent longer on the cover than the actual report itself. Which meant, I WON! So we had pizza together and talked about life and for the first time ever, I felt like a teacher cared about me and I wasn't just a nameless drone in a classroom. He noticed me. He cared if I was alright. And despite being a terrible year for me, it was better because of Mr. Superman. He taught me it was okay to be smart and that nerdy was cool. He was the only one who thought that, but at the time, his opinion was the only one who mattered. I'll never forget it.

My second memory of an amazing teacher was my junior high English teacher. He was tall and bald and smoked a pipe that sat on his desk all the time unlit. He was completely eccentric and an ex-hippie who had his classroom decorated with Grateful Dead paintings (he also taught art) and he was the first English teacher to tell me I should be a writer someday. In fact, he sat me down one day and told me that I had sheer talent for words and my essays were a joy to read. He urged me to pursue writing even though I was only 13 years old. He was my idol then and I wanted to please him, so every word I wrote, I wrote with him in mind as my reader. He gave me confidence. And he told me to follow my dreams and never stop writing. And I haven't. I have him to thank for that.

My next teacher was much more of a puzzle and a challenge. He was a HUGE nerd. Like a mega nerd. And he hated children. It showed. He was not nice and he graded ridiculously harshly and he tried to squash my dreams of being a writer, but at 15, I had a bit of a temper on me. I remember him giving me a bad grade on a paper simply because he didn't like the story I told. My grammar and punctuation, etc. were on point, but he didn't enjoy the subject matter. I took him to task about it and demanded he give me a better grade. I had never gotten less than an A in English and he wasn't going to ruin my streak. He actually was shocked I'd dare question his grade, and simply read it again and gave me an A-. And then he never, ever bothered me again. I felt triumphant because no one else ever stood up to him and won. He was like Professor Snape only nerdier, but just as unforgiving.

But one day he was late to class (I had him first period) and we all stood outside the room making jokes about him and why he might be late and none of the things we said were kind. But it turned out he had been attacked and mugged and beaten just because he was a nerd and an easy target of some thugs. His head was all wrapped in bandages and some kids still made fun of him, but I felt horrible. From that day forward, I treated him with the respect I felt he deserved and in kind, I became his favorite student in the class. There was no more arguing over grades. I'd shown him compassion when no one else would, and in turn we made peace. And he told me at the end of school, "you're a wonderful writer, even if I don't enjoy your subject material." I think it was the only compliment he ever gave a student, even if it was a bit backhanded. I still felt honored.

Another teacher I had in school was my US History teacher and he looked like Steve Martin. And acted like him too. He was a clown and a goof, but an incredibly engaging teacher. I didn't much give a crap about history back then, and he made it fun. Or as fun as it could be to a 16 year old. I remember he used to sometimes make us watch movies that I found boring so I'd sleep through them. He'd never say anything to me while I was doing it, and then when I got an A on my tests, he'd ask me how I managed to absorb the knowledge while I was asleep. Don't ask me. I just knew the stuff. It seeped into my subconscious. But he was inspiring to me because despite my distaste for the class, I wanted to be there just to listen to him joke and try and make history fun. He'll always be my favorite history teacher, unlike the other one I had who routinely read the newspaper during the entire class and never taught us anything. By the time the bell rang, most of the students had snuck out the door and left and he never saw them. Myself included. No, I preferred Steve Martin.

My last memorable teacher was my 11th grade chemistry teacher. I really, really hate chemistry. Like a lot. And I struggled to understand any of it. But this one day he thought it'd be really fun to make fireballs in class. So he proceeded to get a jar of bubbles, turn on the methane gas and blow bubbles with it, then light them on fire. This was like the coolest shit ever and actually had me paying attention. Especially when one of the fireballs got huge and caught the curtains on fire. Needless to say he stopped making them after that. And I'll be damned if I know what I learned that day, except fireballs are not really very safe to do unless you want to burn down your classroom. But I managed a B in that class, when normally I probably would have failed. He went the extra mile to keep us entertained by science and it actually worked. Let's hope the principal never found out.

So that is my ode to teachers. The good ones. I had several bad ones to varying degrees too. Wanna hear about them? Comment and maybe I'll write about it! Hell I know no one will comment, so I'll probably write it anyway. But yeah, comments would be nice. Do you have favorite teacher stories? Share them with me!

Until next time...

The Dregs of Humanity (also known as online dating sites)

So I've been casually looking for dates online for the past year or so, with no real success. Sure, I've had some people interested but as you can see, it went nowhere. And that's because people are fucking crazy, yo. Seriously. I always joke and say I'm crazy, but really these people are ACTUALLY nuts. At least most of them. I met ONE decent guy, and forget the rest. But sometimes I get lonely and I cruise the lovely OkCupid website and see a bunch of dudes like this guy <----- staring back at me. Sorry. Not that desperate. And I feel sorta bad for them because really, who's gonna see that pic and go, "that's my dream man!" Not that I'm a goddess, mind you. But let's give me some credit, okay? I'm better than that.

And reading through the profiles is also good for a laugh. Occasionally someone looks sorta cute so I read the profile and it either says nothing at all. Or it's a fucking manuscript about their life and I just wanna send them a message that says, "tl:dr, dude." (Too long, didn't read for those not hip to internet slang--yes Mom I'm talking to you...lol) Anyway, so we get the silent types and the people who write books and then there's the dorks who usually are only medium cute with cheesy shit like this posted.

Give me a break. With lines like that, all I can do is roll my eyes and skip them with a big NOPE and move on. Like this one dude I saw tonight who posted under the heading, "what are you good at?" His response: "wouldn't you like to know ;-)" Um, not really. And he said I should message him only if I wanted to know. Blah. Nope. Next one. Then some other guy (medium cute) posted this rather interesting profile until I got to the bottom where he said a girl must love to be controlled and dominated. Huh? Christian Grey? Is that you? Do I have to sign a contract before we go out? Nope. Next one! Then there's the guys who post nothing but pics of their tattoos--without their faces showing. Am I supposed to know if I like your looks by a tattoo of a water lily on your back? I don't care about the fucking tattoos if I can't see your face, man. But the worst ones are the ones who post group photos.

Which one are you??? They never say. And frankly there's always an ugly one in the bunch and you have to wonder, "is that fugly one him?" And you'll never know unless you ask, but you can't ask if he's the gross one in the group. And if he is, you've already made contact and all hope is lost. I just wanna know which one is you before I bother to speak to you! Is that so much to ask? I mean, if I posted nothing but a pic of me with 3 supermodels, the guy is gonna be disappointed when I say, "yeah, I'm the short chubby one in the middle...." See my point? Don't post group photos. Just don't.

Also don't post pics of you with your ex-wife, girlfriend, fuck buddy, etc. Nothing turns a girl off more than to see a bunch of pictures of a happy couple and the dude is trolling for another girl. Either he's a dog and is cheating openly, or they're a kinky couple, or he's still hung up on the ex. Don't post a pic of you and another girl who's not your mom or sister or homely cousin. I don't care how nice you look in the photo, just find a picture without the other girl in it. You'll make everyone happier. That's like posting your old wedding photo and expecting a response. No girl wants to feel the ghost of the girl who came before her. On to the next one because that's a big NOPE.

The last dating site NO-NO is this one. Don't post a pic of you wasted and holding beer/whatever your poison is. I've seen so many pics of guys with alcohol in their hands with a ciggie dangling from their mouths as they practically topple over onto the ground. What could be more attractive than that? An alcoholic smoker who might do drugs too because his eyes are so red and glassed over. Is that the image you think will attract women?? If so, then perhaps I'm not the target audience. Sure I like to have fun like the next person. I'm not a church girl. But would I post a pic of me wasted and laying on a barroom floor as my profile pic? No! God, what a train wreck. Which leads me to admit that I corresponded with a cute guy who had a pic of him guzzling a beer (I was momentarily blinded by his hotness) But that ended with him becoming homeless by being kicked out of his house and asking me, a total stranger, if he could come to MY house and take a fucking shower. Nope! My god. I didn't even know him. Lesson learned. Avoid the alkies even if they're cute.

This concludes tonight's thoughts on online dating. I think I'll just become a nun....

The Bearded Lady and Other Freaks--Scenes From My Life

So as most of you know, I am a convenience store clerk. And no, that's not me over there in the picture, but lets be honest, he sums up my life. So that's metaphorically me okay? Anyway, we see some really weird people sometimes. I've written about them before. But I've got new stories now because I've been working there longer. I will commence to explain what I deal with on a daily basis now that I've come to know the 'regulars'.

First we have the person I shall call the Bearded Lady.

Now who am I to judge people for having unwanted facial hair? Except this hair is apparently wanted and a fashion statement. She not only possesses a lady beard, she braids it. And just imagine this person -------> with a baseball hat and tattoos everywhere with a braided lady beard. She's apparently bad news. I wouldn't know since she's always been nice to me, however she was responsible for one person quitting, and decided to bring out her stun gun to threaten another clerk who works graveyard.

For this offense, she was officially banned from the store. It was my job to hand her a letter stating the fact that they had her on camera with the stun gun and she was to leave immediately or I'd call 911. Did I wanna hand over that letter? Oh fuck no. She actually liked me. I wasn't going to be the bearer of bad tidings. She knows my car. She's seen me in it. I could just imagine her breaking all my windows or keying it or something. Or else just jumping me and killing me. And this is what her bestie looks like that's always with her.

And I know for a fact she just got out of prison. Not jail, but fucking prison. I don't know what she did, but I probably don't wanna know. And yet they tell me to face off bearded lady and skinhead chick. No. Just no. I basically refused to deliver the letter. Someone else had to do it. So luckily the next day when I got to work, the letter was gone. Aha! Someone else was the bearer of that bad news. I hope they don't come back. I really don't wanna call the police. And so often I'm alone there that I wouldn't know what to do. I don't get hazard pay.

Then there is another guy. Now he hasn't been banned (yet), but he shows up drunk and buys more beer. I can't sell beer to an already drunk person, so I've had to turn him down. Then he just manages to get someone else to buy it for him. And he hangs out at the store getting drunk in the bathroom or somewhere else I can't see him, and then he slurs his words and breathes on me and actually paid for gas, didn't pump it, locked his keys in the truck and locked his phone in there too. So he was stranded on pump number one for at least six hours. My shift ended and his fucking truck was still there. I was actually relieved because he shouldn't have been driving and I almost called the cops on him. He would have killed someone. But why do people want to hang out and get drunk at the store?? Why not go home, for fucks sake. It's safer and legal to do that!

But what do you do with someone like that? You can't stop them from coming in, even if you can stop selling to them. But why must my store be a hang out for losers? This one woman used to buy beer and sit in her car for hours in the parking lot. Why?? Is your home life that bad you'd rather be at the mini mart? I can think of better places to drink. Like a bar? I don't see any fucking bar stools outside our place. Go away people!

Then there is another gem of society I like to call them Creepers. It's the old men who insists on flirting with you and calling you 'babydoll' or 'darling' and you want to puke and disinfect yourself after they leave. This one guy walks in every night and says,

"Hello Cutie!" And he proceeds to grab a straw and a huge can of beer and come to the register to flirt. He drinks his beer with a STRAW! Seriously. WTF? But then he tells me all about how he'd rather enjoy drinking with me, etc. Yuck. No thanks. I'd rather not. But I'm sure he's harmless. This other dude on the other hand is a little more overt and expects you to know exactly what he wants to buy without him telling you (Swisher Sweets in case you're wondering) and he lingers too long, talks too much, and flirts like he thinks we're really flattered by his attentions. I've never been called baby or sweetie or doll face so many times in my life. These guys will stay in the store for hours if you let them. They need girlfriends their own age. Or something. Anything. Just go away.

Then we have my favorites, because they're harmless and non scary. But you gotta give an honorable mention to the hipsters. Man-buns, beards, tattoos, flannel, and glasses. And they ALWAYS want a pack of American Spirits.  It's to the point where when they walk in I'm like, "American Spirits?" and

they get all surprised like, "Wow, she's psychic!" when really they're just predictable and like spending extra money for 'organic' cigarettes that will still kill you just the same as the regular ones, but at least you can say you tried to be healthier and better for the environment. Or whatever the reason is. I just know they love those cigarettes. 

But credit to the cute hipster who comes in often and shirks tradition and buys Marlboro Smooth Menthols. Of course he asked for my opinion on what to buy and I suggested those. Props for listening to me and going against the grain, cute hipster dude who always asks me what time I get off work. 

So anyway, slice of my life. The good, the bad and the ugly (and the cute guy thrown in for good measure). Want my job? We're hiring! Until next time.... 

Shower Thoughts--Part Two

I did a post awhile back called 'shower thoughts' and I thought it'd be fun to do it again. These are some random things that go through my mind not just in the shower but whenever. But we'll just call them shower thoughts.



Did you ever stop to think that taking a bath is disgusting? You're sitting in a warm pool of your own dirt and grime. Why do people like that? Why is it relaxing? It's really just gross.

I often wonder why people smoke tobacco and marijuana. Who the hell decided these were smokable, and also why would they ever try it at all? How many things did they light on fire and inhale before someone said, "you know, this is good." It's SO weird. Someone had to smoke a lot of lame stuff before they found out pot makes you high and nicotine is just plain addictive and nice to smoke. I wanna know what else they tried and why??

I wonder why people drink cows milk. Milk by nature is nourishment for babies. That's it. Adult cows don't drink milk from their mothers. Just like adult humans do not drink milk from their mothers. So why do we drink this?? And why do we drink another species milk? It's honestly kind of gross to think of, because you wouldn't drink some chicks breast milk on your Fruity Pebbles, but we'll squeeze a cow tit and pour that all over our cereal.

Does anyone really ever pay attention to serving sizes on packages of chips or crackers, etc? They say to eat like five chips and be done. Who does that? It's more like 50 chips and then the bag is empty. Why not just tell us how many calories are in the whole bag? I don't want to do math and count chips. That's too stressful. Just give me the low down. I know it's more than I'd ever want to know, but tell me anyway.

Why do people tell you not to go out in cold weather because you'll get sick? This is a lie. Weather doesn't make you sick. Germs do. And germs breed in heat. So basically you're safer outside in the snow in a bikini than you are inside a hot house with people coughing up germs everywhere like in an incubator. Cold weather does not make you sick. Unless you catch hypothermia...but we're talking about colds and flu. You can't catch that from being outside in the cold. Deal with it. You're gonna get sick anyway no matter what you do. Wash your hands instead.

Lots and lots of mushrooms are deadly to eat. So who ever kept eating them until they found some that didn't kill you? Like way back when, who the hell would keep eating these things when everyone kept dying from them. What made them think any of them were safe to eat? I know that nowadays people have books and shit to tell you which ones are okay, but back in the dark ages, who wanted to eat a fucking mushroom so bad they risked death?

Why is water in the ocean appear blue when water is actually clear? A glass of water is clear, but an ocean of water is blue. Why is it blue??

And that is all for today. I'm sure I've had many other thoughts, but that's just a few. Hope I made you think!

Everyone be cool, this is a robbery!

When you work in a convenience store, you always gotta wonder if you're gonna be robbed. At least that's how I see it. It seems like on TV and movies, those are always the places that the robbers choose, and to be honest, I don't know what the hell I'd do if that happened. Except give them whatever I could give them and hope they didn't kill me. Some nights everyone looks like a suspect. And other nights, it's a more gentle sort of crowd. But even the people who look normal might be criminals. You just never know!

Last night there was some dude who was sketchy as hell hanging around the store. He got a cup of coffee and then just stood in the store for almost 40 minutes. He was just there. And he looked like the goddamn Unabomber. He had a grey hoodie, messy curly hair and a mustache. The glasses were missing but still! And he was just STANDING there.

I kept looking at him, and he'd pretend to pick up an item and look at it. Then I went over and said hi and he just nodded at me. Then he moved over to another part of the store and I followed him, because I felt certain he was either gonna steal something or rob the place. Who the hell goes into a store and just stands there for 40 minutes when it's a place designed to run in and run out as quickly as possible?

Turns out, I think he wanted free coffee. He drank a whole cup, then got more, and I pretended I didn't notice. But even after he was on his second cup, he still didn't leave. He just wandered around and stared at stuff for another fifteen minutes or so. And my co-worker went on her dinner break, so I was alone with this freak show. I was planning what to do if he pulled a gun or something. But in the end he bought a candy bar and cigarettes and FINALLY left. But he was still creepy as fuck. I think maybe my eagle eyes on him stopped him from stealing. Unless he did steal and I just didn't see him. It wouldn't be the first time. People steal sunglasses constantly and I've never caught them.

One night some weirdo came in who looked like a total dork and he was with his sketch as hell friend in a hoodie (which in all fairness this time of year everyone looks like a criminal in their hoodies) but I didn't really know what to think of the friend, but I thought the other guy was just a dorky nutter.

Like Napoleon Dynamite and Pedro with his pornstache. That was the two of them. And Napoleon dude kept asking us for obscure cigarettes that I'd never heard of. And neither had my manager. He talked and talked and talked and then Pedro walked up and I asked, "are you together?" Just making sure he wasn't someone I needed to help because they did not walk in together at first. But then Napoleon goes, "oh god, no, we're not lovers!" And Pedro made a gross face and shook his head. And I was like, "um, I didn't mean were you boyfriends, just together." DUH! Like I'd ask if they were a couple. None of my business! But apparently they wanted to make it clear they were not lovers, but friends. Only Pedro kept looking annoyed and making faces, and would wander off and then come back. And it wasn't until after they left I realized, neither of us was watching Pedro. We were too busy listening to Napoleon talk about cigarettes.

And outside in the carport, I found the tags to sunglasses lying on the ground. I bet you money he stole some. No one bought any, that's for sure. And my manager and I were both guilty of falling for the scam because we were so wrapped in how ridiculous the dorky guy was, we didn't even notice Pedro at first. He could have dumped beers in his hoodie and five pairs of glasses and candy and gum and we weren't looking at him. Pedro probably cleaned us out.

And we were too busy to even notice his sketchy self lurking around. That's why crooks are so clever. They don't always look or seem like criminals. In fact the ones who look like they might kill and/or rob you are probably the nicest people you'll meet. It's the ones who seem innocuous or just annoying that you gotta worry about.

But the shoplifters won't kill me at least. I'm more worried about armed robbers. I just have to hope that no one would bother to rob us for around $200 total because we routinely drop all our money into the safe. And I don't have keys to that. None of us do except the head honcho who is never there when we'd be robbed.

But have you ever thought about what you'd do if someone stuck a gun in your face and demanded money from you?  I have. Way too many times as of late. I mean normally in life, I have no money so they can have my purse and my $30 in my bank account if they can use the ATM card somewhere. But they won't be living large off my purse.But when you work in a place robbers love, you have terrible fantasies. And I'm no hero. Fuck that. They can have the money! I'm not taking a bullet for some cash and smokes.

 This dude shows up? The store is his. That's how I see it. And don't expect me to ever go back there either. But I have asked if they ever were robbed and apparently in twelve years at least, they never have been. Thanks the lord. That's pretty good odds I won't have to face this guy over here. But there's a first time for everything. Let's just hope it's not on my watch. I live in a pretty sleepy town, but shit occasionally goes down. It does everywhere. So you just never know. But if you hear on the news about a store being robbed and the heroic clerk who tackled the guy and saved the day, that's not gonna be me.

I hate you. Will you be my friend? A true story about childhood bullying

Back when I was in school, I used to be the target of a lot of bullies. I was freakishly tall for my age, overweight, had horrible teeth, bad hair, and dressed like a total spaz. There was nothing about me that wasn't fodder for the school bullies, of which, there were quite a lot of them. I wasn't just occasionally picked on, but for several years, I was actually harassed daily by two boys in particular. They would follow me around, call me names, try and touch my over large breasts, and would consistently hound me until I would cry and hide in the bathroom just to get away from them.

Now it's no secret that bullying can lead to depression and incredibly low self esteem. It's a huge problem in every school in this country. My story isn't a new one. It's a very common one. And the scars these two boys left on my psyche, affected me into adulthood. So much so, that I actually sought therapy to deal with the trauma I'd faced as a kid. (But to be fair this was only ONE thing I sought therapy for out of a huge list which I won't go into.) However, this was one of the major sources for my low self esteem as an adult.

One of the things that my therapist suggested I do was to make a list of the people who hurt me, and role play what I'd say to them now if I could. It sounded a little silly, but I played along. And there was one person at the top of my list who I felt caused the most damage. So we acted out a conversation together.

She played him and I was me, of course. And honestly, it did help me. I had a lot of questions for this person, and I felt like my therapist did a pretty decent job acting out the role. However, I didn't think it really got to the root of how I felt because only HE knew why he did it. She was just acting a part. So one night I was sitting on Facebook and I decided to contact this guy. Yes, we were friends on Facebook, despite our history. But no, we never spoke to one another ever. It was just one of those, "Oh I knew this guy...." And you accept the request and forget about it. But not this night. I decided that I'd go a step further in my therapy process and actually ask HIM why he did what he did.

This was a scary process for me. I sat there looking at the blank message window for quite some time, not knowing exactly what to say or how to start or what his response might be. I honestly thought he'd ignore me and delete me. That was my expectation. But something inside me urged me to just go for it. So I typed out my message. I was polite and nice and basically just asked him if he remembered the things he said and did to me and simply asked, "Why? What did I ever do to you?" To my shock and awe, he wrote me back. And he was not only apologetic, but incredibly sweet and nice. He said sorry multiple times and explained how he was bullied too, and somehow it made him feel better to have someone else weaker to make fun of himself. He had no real good excuse, as these things go. Because when you're nine years old, you just do idiotic things. But he did share with me his own experiences with bullies, that were just as bad or worse than my own experiences from him, and others.

Then something really weird happened between us, because we found each other to be a comfort and there was this immediate rapport and sense of friendship that just blossomed, even though we'd once been sworn enemies. I realized that I was talking to someone who understood things about me that no one else ever did. And right away, we realized, "hey, I think we're friends now." It was like meeting each other all over again for the first time.

After the apologies and explanations, I found that I just wasn't mad at him anymore. And I think after talking to me, he realized I wasn't angry either and that we actually had things in common. A  lot of things. Things that no one else in either of our lives knew about. It was sort of like meeting an instant best friend, and we realized we both secretly rooted for each other all the time and that even though we hadn't talked, we both read each other's posts regularly and laughed and felt a connection. We just never said anything because of the weird history. But we effectively banished that history, and now I have to say this person is one of my dearest friends.

We speak to each other regularly on Facebook, giving each other Netflix movie suggestions, chatting about life, about our problems, about our families, about our lives in general. We make a point to actually meet up on a regular basis to go dancing and to the movies. Plus we're both terrible gossips. We have SO many stories to share with each other that make us laugh and bond us together. We've completely buried the past like it never even existed. And if not for me having the courage to confront him, I'd miss out on this wonderful little friendship we've made.

He told me a few times that I'm just very easy to talk to and that he shares so much with me. And I feel the same way. And I sometimes wonder, are we the same people who used to be the tormentor and the tormented? But the answer is no. We're not the same people. Life has changed us. And back then, if we'd known it, we could have been friends the entire time. Our entire lives. But instead we got a really big do-over. And I wouldn't change it for the world. I'm not even sure if he realizes how much his friendship means to me. He's such a funny person and always makes me laugh. And if I'm feeling down, he just seems to know exactly what I need to hear.

Who would have ever thought? The two of us as BFF. I would have eaten my shoe when I was nine if anyone ever told me he'd be my closest friend this many years later. But it happened. And I'm grateful for it And it just shows that if you're being bullied now, or if you ever have been, things DO get better. And they DO change. And sometimes people are mean because people are mean to them too. Humans are stupid creatures sometimes who take out their anger on the wrong people. But my faith in humanity is restored because I now know people CAN change, and for the better.

I've read stories where people contacted their old bullies and got apologies, but I've never read a story where the two people actually became close friends who confide their secrets and hang out and have fun together. This has taught me that not only do people change, but that holding onto hurt and anger from our past only hurts us and serves no real purpose in life. If someone ever wronged you, maybe you should tell them how they made you feel? What if you end up making a friend, instead of keeping an enemy?

That said, I know that not everyone can forgive, nor does everyone want to be forgiven. I'm not delusional. And some things, some acts, some words, they just can't be taken back and made right again. But sometimes, some way, things can be made right if you give it a chance.

So I  urge anyone who's been bullied, to seek out their tormentors and ask them why. And if you bullied someone, I ask you to reach out and apologize and explain yourself. It's not too late. It's never too late. And maybe, just maybe, you'll make a new friend. That's my lesson to you. Sometimes life is full of surprises. And I think that's what makes it so worth living. The moments you never saw coming.

Love, live, forgive, and see where it gets you. You really have nothing to lose. And I am thankful every day that I chose the path of forgiveness. Not only is my self esteem greater, but now I've got a friend I never expected to have. Life is funny that way. Take chances. You might be pleasantly surprised by the results. I know I am.

Clerks--My Life

I've recently gotten a new job as a convenience store clerk. Now, you'd think this was a job a monkey could do, and you'd be a little bit right. Except there are some complicated things and some really dumb rules and some stressful moments that mean this job basically sucks. It doesn't suck as hard as some of my menial jobs I've taken since my world changed and the doctor I worked for passed away. But it does both suck and blow at the same time often enough.

Like for example the lovely customers who smell like B.O. and pot who wants to pay with all change. Sure, that's not a problem! Just empty your fucking wheel barrel on the counter and I'd love to spend an extra twenty minutes counting your fifty dollars in pennies!

I swear it never fails that we'll have 20 customers in line and then some jack off wants to pay with a bag of fucking pennies. Can't you take your ass to a Coinstar first? That's what those damn machines are for. I'm in the business of being speedy and I ain't got time for that bullshit.




Which speaking of bullshit, we've got your lottery fanatics who spend half their damn paychecks on lotto tickets. In my head, if you can drop $200 on lotto tickets, you're not poor enough to need to win the damn lottery!

If I see your ass spending that much money on gambling, I wanna slap you in the face with a rotten fish. Maybe give some of that money to the homeless or the poor? Instead of wasting it on lotto tickets when you so clearly have money to just set on fire and throw away.


Then you've got your underage drinkers and smokers. Trying to pass off pieces of paper as ID. Or claiming they lost it. Or just blatantly being twelve years old and trying to buy cigars and beer. I'm not a fool. I wasn't born yesterday. And this ID is not convincing me.

Yet they still try. I had someone photocopy a picture of themselves and then just type a birth date under it and say it was an ID card. No it's not! It's a piece of fucking paper you printed on your computer. It didn't even look remotely official. And then I have some kid trying to show me his fishing license as ID. Puhlese. I'm new at the job, I'm not a moron. But I guess people still gotta try and get their shit. They just won't be getting it from me.

My next favorite customer is the old person who doesn't understand how buying gas or anything even works. I have them just throw money at me and be like, "That's for gas!" and not tell me a pump number or anything else. Then I get the ones who don't understand you have to pay first to get gas and don't even want to give me their money for fear I'll abscond with it and run out of the store and leave, I guess. Because their $40 is enough for me to retire to the Bahamas on. Right.

I had a lady genuinely confused as to how to pay for gas when she didn't know how much it would take to fill it. I explained the concept of getting change, to no avail. She was utterly lost. Felt a bit bad for her since she said it had been awhile since she got gas. Like apparently since 1985 because you've had to pay first for quite a long time. But who knows her story? I let it slide and just found it amusing.

I was however not as amused by the old lady who scooped up all our "leave a penny" money and stole it and just rushed out the door. Sure, she left with maybe twenty cents, but still! That's not just money to scoop and run with! It's for customers who are short a penny or two, etc. That bitch thought it was trick or treat or something. And she wasn't poor, wearing a fur jacket and spending $30 on Star Wars candy toys for her grand kids.


But the old people... sometimes you gotta love 'em. But sometimes? No, you really don't. Some of them are mean old bastards. Like seriously mean. They call you names and yell at you. They

scowl and call you 'missy' and other names to where it sounds like they think I'm twelve years old and daddy let me run a cash register. One guy was so rude to me I wanted to stab him with a pair of scissors, but I refrained. Thankfully I'm not as crazy as people usually think I am. Which brings me to my next set of Americana I experience:

The crazy fuckers. The flat out crazy ass weirdos.

They are a plenty out there. I had some guy come in singing and dancing. Another guy told me about his walk about where he just wandered around and tried to figure his life out, before screaming at me for almost giving him the wrong cigarettes even though he asked for four different kinds before settling on one type. He was the idiot who couldn't make up his mind! And I don't know all the fancy names for cigarette types out there! I don't know what the hell a 72 short or 27 special blend is. For fucks sake, I didn't learn about cigarettes in school!


Or math. I mean, yeah, I learned some math, but mostly I sucked at it. So I also hate the people who don't give you the right money before you cash out and then get angry when you don't know how much change to give them. I can't math!! Sorry, but you have a window where you can give me the money, otherwise fuck it, you're getting 92 cents back instead of a dollar. Or whatever. But to be fair, that's more my problem than theirs. But please don't make me math. It hurts me.

Every time you make me math, a baby seal dies. You don't want that on your conscience do you? So for the love of all that's holy, just give me all the money you've got and THEN let me cash out. Once I hit enter, we're both in trouble because I'm too stupid to know what to give you. Embrace that. If I were smarter, I wouldn't be working at a convenience store. If I could math, I'd be a fucking engineer. Okay?




All in all, I kinda hate this job. But it's work. It pays the bills. But man, I miss actually having a career. I used to be somebody. Now I'm just a loser in an ugly shirt who can't math and needs to study cigarettes 101 in night school. Sometimes I really hate my life. *sigh*