Ch-ch-ch-changes November 26, 2008

I’m reasonabily certain that isn’t the first time I’ve used that as a blog post title…

The Hippy and I spent the night in our new home last night.  It’s foreign territory to both of us, but the neighborhood looks and sounds just fine.  Despite that, we jumped every time we heard a noise because we’re paranoid freaks.  The furnace will take some finagling–one minute we were freezing, the next we were burning up.

He’ll be living there alone until after Christmas.  With No Coast and Craftmas coming up, plus my overwhelming desire to make everyone’s present, I’m going to be in no shape to move.  The majority of what I own is sewing supplies, and while I intend to move things over in pieces, I can’t uproot my sewing area until all my sewing is out of the way.

I’ll be honest… It’s overwhelming…

I could pretend this is why I’m lazy… November 25, 2008

I had every intention of briefly blogging about how my right hand has been experiencing weird joint pain.  It started yesterday when I was cooking pasta, and I suddenly couldn’t move my hand back.  The pain was excruciating.  It didn’t last long… half hour maybe?  But it was BAD.  There were a few lingering twitches, even into today, but nothing I can’t handle.

Then while I was at work this morning, my very most important finger ever was struck with the hell pain.  Yes, friends, I couldn’t move or even think about my middle finger.  This one didn’t last long either, but it felt… weird all day.

But I still can’t use my hand very well.  My joints appear to be fine.  It’s my flesh now.  I was adjusting my position on a break room chair when it bit me.  The POS chairs have staples or nails or something inside them that aren’t stapled into anything.  And one of those staples found its way into my hand.  Right under my index finger.  Making moving my fingers a tender experience at best.

Staple wounds, like paper cuts, hurt way more than they should.  The hole is small, so blood had a hard time finding its way out.  I’ve got a little bruise around the puncture.  Of course I spent the morning yelling, “I’m hemorrhaging!”  I’m nothing if not over dramatic.

Itching, Itching… November 23, 2008

For an excuse that is…

I have apparently been put in charge of Thanksgiving dessert.  This task usually fall on my parents, and I’m usually in charge of the fruit salad (which is more of a post-dinner/pre-dessert than an actual dessert).  Typically, we have pumpkin pie for the pumpkin pie eaters (myself not included) and french silk or some other creamy chocolate for, well, pretty much everyone since many people take both kinds.

This year, however, provided it’s okay by the other purely non-pumpkin pie eater (I discovered my dad doesn’t really like pumpkin pie… weird! So he’s a third), I plan to make the Red Velvet Cupcakes I’ve been pining over.  And if I make enough, I will have the potluck at work on Black Friday covered.  Woot!

Until then, however, I must sew.  And if I’m not sewing, I must be productive in some way.  I’m failing at productivity… Miserably.

And I need new work pants.  I feel like things are crumbling.  But at least I might have a new home tomorrow, and that’s pretty exciting, even if The Hippy is now paralyzed with fear.  Not moving until after Christmas, though.  That’s just too damn much to deal with.

Hard to decide… November 21, 2008

About four years ago, I was introduced to the bands TOOL and A Perfect Circle by The Hippy.  He’s made numerous attempts to get me into bands over these years, but only a few have stuck (the other is System of a Down) while many others I merely tolerate to keep him happy (Rage Against the Machine, Smashing Pumpkins, Supertramp, The Mars Volta…)  The key reason I dig Tool/APC and SOAD are the singers’ voices.  Lucky for Tool and APC, they have the same lead vocals. Maynard James Keenan.

I find is voice soothing.  Incredibly soothing.  Which is probably why I slightly prefer A Perfect Circle to TOOL; the music itself is more soothing.  However, there are a good number of TOOL songs I could easily listen to on repeat.  And have.

I listen to Pandora Radio a lot.  Sometimes on my laptop, but I usually listen to it on my Ipod Touch now.  It makes me feel like I’m turning my Ipod into a musical monster, and I get a real kick out of that.  I feel like I’m cheating.   Anyway, a few times now, A Perfect Circle’s version of Imagine has come on.  The Hippy and I have had discussions about this.  He believes the APC version is better, but I’m a firm believer that no one could ever, ever, ever do it better than John Lennon.  Not even Rain.  It’s like remakes of movies–the original is always better, even if the remake is good.

But now I’m not so sure.  I mean, Lennon is still better, but Maynard’s voice is starting to bring me over to the dark side.  And it is a dark side, too, considering how that version is arranged.

Compare for me, if you will…  Press the little play buttons to hear the previews for free.

A Perfect Circle

John Lennon

It’s hard, I know.

Completely unrelated, I am finding myself having to thumbs down a lot of things on Pandora.  It’s not because they are bad songs, per se…  But I found myself at work saying “Hey, that song played on my Ipod this morning.”  And Pandora just played “Hip to be Square” which played at work yesterday.  I blame it on the fact that I was introduced to Blue October thanks to work’s music, and the Blue October station is one of my favorites on Pandora.  However, that doesn’t mean I want to feel like I’m at work when I’m very clearly not.  At least it isn’t playing Christmas music.  There is a time and a place for Christmas music, and this just isn’t it.

Lamentations over a lost treat November 20, 2008

I never ate Pop Rocks much as a kid.  I didn’t give into the Pop Rocks/Coke exploding stomach hype, I was just more of a Fun Dip type of girl.  But for some reason, I was incredibly drawn to Dairy Queen’s Grape Kool-Aid Explosion Blizzard.  I think the grape Kool-Aid helped, because I do love me some grape Kool-Aid.  A lot.  Needless to say, I was pretty distraught when they pulled that from their line up.

I didn’t need to be sad for too long, though, because that very same year, Ben and Jerry’s was selling KaBerry KABOOM!  It wasn’t Grape Kool-Aid Explosion, but it had the right blend of ice cream and berry (I’m more of a fruit dessert than a chocolate dessert person) with the awesomeness of Pop Rocks.  But then that quickly disappeared too…

I feel like I may be the only person who likes Pop Rocks.  Take, for example, this awesome candy I heard about last week.  This awesome candy which I had to buy four bars of.

Normally I’d be uncomfortable buying that much chocolate.  I feel like chocolate is a silly little luxury that I shouldn’t be allowed to spend money on.  But alas, these were easy to buy.  Why?

BECAUSE THEY’RE ON FREAKING CLEARANCE!

Why does every awesome Pop Rocks treat disappear just when I start liking it?  I don’t really like eating just plain Pop Rocks.  I can live without Pop Rocks until I find out someone has made something with them.  I’m so annoyed I can hardly think straight.  Also, I’m starting to smell banana even though I haven’t had any banana, but Paula Deen is making Banana Pie on TV right now…  I think I’m going crazy.  Maybe I should lay down and cuddle with Mister for awhile…..

Damn you, Joseph! November 17, 2008

The Hippy and I were discussing some bullshit going on with the house we might be buying.  We’ve been feeling slighted by our realtor, which the Hippy attributes to us not having a lot of money to spend on a house.  Which is why if this house doesn’t pan out, he’s out.  Because we don’t have a lot of money to spend on a house, it’s pretty damn important he’s on top of his game so we don’t get the shaft.  I don’t expect a lot, but he’s been making some mistakes that could be costly to us.

In his annoyance with the realtor, The Hippy related the story of Joseph to me.  Jesus’ adoptive father Joseph, not Dreamcoat Donny Osmand Joseph.  I’ve not read much of the New Testament, but the gist of the story was that Joseph helped customers in the order they came to him, not based on how much money they had.  And that’s how he expects to be treated by any realtor we might have.

So as he’s telling me this story, I start feeling bad about How Far? I still think it’s unreasonable for someone in this day and age to take two hours of a sales clerk’s time.  I contend that Joseph’s time was far less populated, and Joseph wasn’t working for a big box store.  But I do feel bad that I was annoyed with how much she spent.  I am a product of working for who I work for.  Each scheduled hour of work needs to bring in (last I heard) $70 to be viable.  So, if I’m spending two hours with her, and she only spends $50, I haven’t done my job.

I have a lot of annoyances on how they work the scheduled hours, but I will probably never go into them here unless I get really pissed off.  Suffice it to say, the big wigs expect us to make $2000/day more from last year, but they’re giving us 600 less hours a week in which to do it.  So, yeah… I don’t have two hours to give one customer.  At least the freight “should” be getting lighter over the course of the next few weeks.  Christmas is so close I can taste it, and I’m certain I will make it through this season alive.  And probably still with a job (because I promised the Hippy I wouldn’t lose my job so we could still afford a house).

Stand back; I’m contagious. November 17, 2008

I’ve been laughing so hard for the last twenty minutes or so that I have tears rolling down my face.  Apparently laughter is contagious even when you’re alone.

On their own, Engrish photos illicit a chuckle for the most part.  But grouped together in a blog such as Engrishfunny.com, these things are almost a lethal weapon.  I feel the same way about LOLcats, but Engrish isn’t intending to be funny.  And I think that makes them funnier.

Speaking of LOLcats, I discovered The LOLcat Bible Translation today.  Awesome.  I only made it through a couple paragraphs of Genesis while on my break, but I couldn’t stop laughing.  Good times.

ETA: I just came across this one, and it’s too damn fitting not to include in this post!

There’s a fine line here… November 15, 2008

If you read the “Meet the Ghoti” page, you’ll notice it mentions I’m a stickler for grammar.  I feel as if I should also add linguist to that list, because while I am a stickler in writing (I don’t necessarily consider blogging writing, as I find it far more conversational), I’m not so much a stickler for speech.  You won’t ever hear me correct the way someone says something, though I often do it in my head.  The only time I will ever correct someone is when they correct someone else for saying “So-and-so and me.”  There are times when “me” is correct, so if you are going to be a dick, at least get your information straight.

Given this knowledge, it should come as no surprise that I love this shirt from Signals.  I wouldn’t wear it… don’t get me wrong.  But I’d probably be game for making a bag that said that.  I have this sickness.  You see, when I read things, I often read them the way they are “supposed” to be.  I don’t have a problem with people ending sentences with prepositions, but I really just love the sound of a sentence that’s been manipulated to not end that way.  “I am the grammarian about whom your mother warned you.”  Beautiful.

Completely unrelated, however, I do think this hoodie is about the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I would actually wear it.  If I had $60 laying around, it would be mine, no questions asked.

(Props to Signals… these images completely belong to them; I make no claims that they might be mine, though I did screenshot them myself.  Both images link to the Signals website, because I firmly believe in fair play, and I also think the Signals catalgue is awesome.)

How far? November 13, 2008

Recent events at work have prompted me to question how far a sales clerk must go to avoid giving poor customer service?  Is a customer entitled to hours of a clerk’s time?  Should the clerk (who is probably not making much more than minimum wage) be forced to become a customer’s personal shopper?  How about their interior decorator?

Should the customer be entitled to know when the clerk is working again in case she (*ahem* or he… this is purely hypothetical, after all… sure…) has any more questions or needs any more help?  If so, is it okay for the clerk to… fudge… a little on the hours she (or he….) is working just so she can be guaranteed some alone time?

At any point is it acceptable to say, “I’m sorry, but my schedule just doesn’t allow me to devote so much time to one customer”?  Should the clerk just suck it up and help the customer the best she can?  Other customers and obligations be damned?  Even if this customer is maybe spending $50 after taking up hours of my her time?

Would this customer’s behavior be more acceptable if it weren’t the Christmas season?  What if it weren’t during the time of year when the store takes in twice as much freight as “normal” and is having to work twice as hard to even pretend to find room for it?  Would it be more acceptable if the one clerk that has been singled out is the only one who is truly responsible for making sure the stock gets out on the floor?  Even when there are dozens of other clerks to choose from?

I guess I don’t really have the answers, or I wouldn’t even be asking the questions.  I know what I want the answers to be, but I have a feeling the “right” answers are opposite that.  Maybe the clerk needs to set up a sort of blind date system where she, regretably, receives a very important call partway into the interaction.

Retail employees should be given tips.  At least in situations like these.  Mandatory 20% gratuity.  If I’m she’s going to get in trouble because the work isn’t getting done, she might as well get and extra $10 out of it.  A thank you should be enough, but frankly, it isn’t.  And being told God put me into her life isn’t enough either.

Cat-a-boo November 11, 2008

My darling cat Lucy sometimes plays a very short version of peek-a-boo with me.

She gets a little freaked out when something suddenly disappears, so I often duck below the edge of the bed she’s on or quick dip behind the doorway so I’m no longer in her sightline.  It doesn’t take long before I hear her make her way across the bed or thump to the floor in search of me.  It always ends with her rubbing up against me as if to say, “You’re mine, don’t you ever leave me again.”

But tonight Sluggy decided to play his own game of peek-a-boo with me.

I stood up and faced his general direction, and he meowed at me.  I looked away, and when I looked back, he meowed again.  So I went to tell my mom that Sluggy was meowing weird at me, and when I went into the doorway, he meowed again.  I turned my back to him then turned to face him again, and again he meowed.  My mom kept looking at him while I alternated facing him and not.  Each time I turned to him, he meowed.  He probably did this a good twenty times before he gave up.  I’m not sure if he was frustrated because he wasn’t getting whatever it is he wanted, or if he was feeling sorry for how pathetic I looked (I’m half convinced he was toying with me).

Mister plays touch-a-boo.  He meows when someone touches him.  I don’t think it hurts, I think he’s just a crotchety old man on the inside.  He also meows when I meow at him–he answers me.  I’m not sure what we’re talking about, though I have a pretty good idea it has to do with food.