The Game of Life
Dude, We Gotta Go…I Just Sharded
Every time I want to lose weight, I start exercising hard-core for about a month and count every calorie that passes through my lips. I inevitably loose ten pounds right away and then…nothing. I get so frustrated that I eventually stop working out altogether and start eating a nutritiously balanced diet of Frito Lay Queso Dip and Scoops.
I’m thinking that I may need some help in the dieting department and I’m considering buying those Alli diet pills to help me in my personal fat battle. On the one hand, I feel very confident in it’s ability to block the fat absorption in the body because it is the only diet pill that’s approved by the FDA. On the other hand, one of the side effects of taking Alli is “oily gas.” What the hell is “oily gas?!” Is that when you go to fart and accidentally shard yourself?! Is calling it “oily gas” the classy way of saying, “Look Fatty, you may shit yourself while taking this drug, so wear dark panties for awhile and be prepared to run for dear life to the nearest bathroom at a moments notice. Good luck!”
Am I willing to shard myself in order to lose weight because I have to squeeze myself into a bridesmaid’s dress in four months? Yes, yes I am. Any diet pill that’s good enough for Wynonna Judd is good enough for me. Let the dieting begin!
It’s Only Funny Till Someone Pukes
I’ve realized now that since I’m in my thirties I just can’t drink anymore. Or, more accurately, I can’t drink the way I used to when I was in my twenties and wake up fresh as a daisy the next morning. Case in point, Saturday night I went to dinner with two of my friends, consumed a few Blue Moons, then went back to my friend’s house where I had a few Bud Lights, then came home where I decided it would be a great idea to top all of that off with a glass of white wine. I woke up on Sunday wanting to die.
Not only did I vomit up my entire breakfast of scrambled eggs not once, not twice, but THREE times, I also had the headache from hell ALL day long. I did not feel remotely human until 9:00PM that night. Ugh.
What is even more disturbing is the fact that I had a clear warning sign about a month ago that my drinking days were numbered. I wrote last month about my friends Christmas party in December that they have every year, where vast amounts of wine are consumed till the wee hours of the morning. What I didn’t go into detail about was what happened to me at about 5:00A.M the next morning. I will now share that previously untold story with you as best I can remember.
I awoke in my friend’s living room having passed out on their loveseat. My friend Maria and her boyfriend were asleep on an air mattress and my friend’s boss was passed out, and snoring loudly, on the other couch. I felt my stomach start to churn and knew something was going to come out of at least one end of me very soon.
I ran to the bathroom and I did indeed have to pooh. But this wasn’t any old pooh…this was the kind that makes you hot and sweaty and you think you are going to die. So, naturally, I undressed myself while sitting on the toilet seat and clutched the wall for dear life. I was now only wearing white socks and my nude-colored cami that was pulled down around my waist.
All of a sudden, I felt like I was going to vomit, but I couldn’t get up off the toilet because I still had business to do down there, so I caught my puke in my hands. I am nothing if not multi-talented. Once the “battle of the bowels” was over, I was still so very hot…and they have a cool ceramic tile floor…so I put two and two together and rolled around on it until I felt better. Note, I was still only wearing socks and the cami. I feel that would have been the perfect Kodak moment for someone to have walked in on, but thank God there is no photographic evidence of that moment in time. NOT my finest hour.
So, now I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m getting old and will have to cut back on the alcohol for my own health and, most importantly, what’s left of my dignity. Sigh.
Le’ Bubble
Okay boys and girls, gather ‘round close while I tell you a very scary story. It’s about an insane bitch I used to work with called “Crazy P.” Crazy P had around twenty kids that she’d either pushed out her vadge or adopted from Korea. On the surface, Crazy P looked like a very attentive and loving mother. But, as we all know, looks can be VERY deceiving.
For you see, boys and girls, Crazy P loved to breastfeed. And when I say she loved to breastfeed, I mean she would NOT wean her kids. Her youngest son at the time, Joey, was in KINDERGARTEN and still latching on to her titties. In fact, he could even ask for it by the cute little nickname he’d given it, The Bubble. Crazy P would go so far as to sleep in the same be with him at night and wake him up for regular feedings. Creepy, right? Isn’t that how Norman Bates turned into a psycho?
Now, let me state for the record, I am 100% in favor of breastfeeding. I think it’s the healthiest thing you can do for your child. However, I am also making this statement having never breastfed and I’ve heard it’s like sticking hot needles into one’s titties, so I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I come to it. What I am NOT in favor of is breastfeeding your child till the point they can actually ask for it, unhook your bra, and latch their happy-ass on your nip.
At what point does breastfeeding cross the line into a form of child abuse? Little Joey is now a teen and, shockingly, has all sorts of behavioral problems. One time he even hit Crazy P across the face with a baseball bat and he’s also been kicked out of several schools. Yeah, this kid’s not going to have issues with women AT ALL. Way to go “Mother of the Year!” I’m glad Crazy P took what should have been a great bonding experience between a mother and a child and twisted it until it was something perverted and sadistic.
All I know is, as soon as my kid starts looking at me funny, we’re done with the boob. DONE. I don’t want to be responsible for any future serial killers/pedophiles. The world already has it’s fill of sick bastards.
Tina Fey Syndrome
Have you ever heard of a phenomenon called “The Tina Fey Syndrome?” Basically, this is when a man finds a girl sexy because she wears small, rectangular shape eyeglasses similar to the kind that have become Fey’s trademark. Since I don’t need glasses to correct my vision, I’ve never had the chance to experience this firsthand…until today.
On a whim, my friend and I decided to buy fake glasses after seeing them on a girl that works for us and trying on her pair. They were cute, looked good, and, most importantly, they were cheap. So we popped on down to “Icings,” ’tween store extraordinaire, and tried on several pairs until we each picked ones we liked. My friend chose a black pair with rhinestones on the sides and I chose a pair in my favorite color, purple. We were both working the next day, so we agreed to wear them together.
At first it felt weird to have them on because I felt like I was looking at the world through a window. Then, all I wanted to do was look down and to the sides because I could see the frames. After about an hour, I got used to them and once customers started strolling in, their reactions were amazing.
I am not exaggerating in any way when I write that EVERY customer was super-duper nice to me. And when it’s right before Christmas and all people want to is finish their shopping and go home, no one is ever nice. I even felt like people were seeking me out to help them. It’s like the purple frames were calling to them like moths to a flame. They really listened to what I was saying, and when I had to tell them we were sold out of certain products, they all acted like it was no big deal. WOW.
And don’t even get me started on the men! Yes, they were in shopping for their wives and girlfriends, but I was feeling some good vibes from quite a few of them. They were flirty and sweet and ALL of them made and held eye contact with me during the entire time I was helping them. And I wasn’t the only one who noticed the “Tina Fey Syndrome” in action. When my friend got into work, she said her husband was ALL OVER HER after she tried her glasses on for him. It’s like the glasses hold some magical power over the peens of men everywhere!
Is it really this easy?! Is the answer to all of life’s problems solved in the form of a $10 pair of plastic spectacles? Maybe, maybe not…but I’ll be stocking up on every pair that “Icings” has on display, just in case.
The Bitch Is Back…
Once upon a time, I had a friend named Shopgirl who wrote a blog detailing all her funny stories about working in retail. The blog was called “Mall Rats” and it has been on hiatus for awhile. Well, this joyous holiday season has stirred Shopgirl out of her slumber and what can I say…the bitch is back. Click on the link above to see what retail antics Shopgirl has been dealing with this past month. Enjoy!
An Open Letter To Holiday Shoppers
Dear Holiday Shopper:
Well hello there! I haven’t seen you since last Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, or whatever holiday brings you into my store at this magical time of year. You are not my regular customer, who knows our products and where to find them like the back of their hand. No, you are coming into my store to buy a gift for our loyal shoppers. You look weary, you have a list in your hand, painstakingly written with all the goodies you need to buy your loved ones so they think you care. And that’s where I come in… to help you make the perfect purchase. But let me give you some tips so we can all make this process a little smoother.
Number one, I am NOT your personal shopper. Yes, I will show you where to find the right product, but you are not the only customer in my store. That means I have to help EVERYONE, not just you. You are perfectly capable of picking up a product and seeing how much it costs. Please don’t just point to product after product and ask me how much it is. You are also capable of smelling all the products for yourself. I DO NOT need to open every bottle of lotion we sell and hold it up to your nose. Are your hands broken? I think not.
Number two, if you are going to come to the mall on a Saturday, please think of your fellow shoppers and leave your kids at home. DO NOT bring a giant stroller into our already crowded store, then get pissed that you can’t easily maneuver it around. That is YOUR problem, not ours. Also, no one wants to hear your baby screaming. Holiday shopping is already tense enough without adding ear-piercing shrieks to the mix. Try picking your child up and comforting them, instead of just ignoring their cries for help.
Number three, PAY WITH CASH, CREDIT OR DEBIT. DO NOT WRITE CHECKS! They take too much time to write and there is a line piling up behind you. If you must write a check, start filling it out while I’m ringing everything up. Do not aimlessly stare at me, wait to hear the total, THEN get your damn checkbook out. It’s the little things people!!! Am I asking too much?!
Number four, when there is only a week left until Christmas DO NOT get mad at me because we are sold out of something. It’s not my fault that everyone else was more organized than you and actually bought their presents in a timely manner. You also don’t need to tell me to order more, because that’s not at all how our system works. We don’t “order” anything, dumbass. Oh, and guess what? The point of having seasonal products is so that we sell out of them before Christmas. Duh! Maybe I’ll come to your place of business sometime and tell you how to run things…does that sound like fun? No? THEN SHUT YOUR MOUTH!
Number five, my store is not your house. Please put things back where they belong. I am not your mother or your maid. Thank you.
Above all else, be nice to me and my staff. As tired and grumpy as you may be running around and dealing with last minute Christmas shopping, remember that we have been dealing with THOUSANDS of crazed customers for the last month. We’ve been on our feet, working extended hours, dealing with hundreds of boxes of shipment, making complicated schedules, training dozens of new associates and all the while doing it with a smile on our faces (however fake and forced those smiles may be by now). Remember folks, kindness is the only thing you don’t have to pay for this holiday season.
Let’s just get through this next week, okay?
Sincerely,
Brooke Amanda
Planning For The Planner
Here’s where I’m going to go off on a mundane, yet relevant (to me), subject manner a la’ Andy Rooney on “60 Minutes.” The year 2009 is drawing to a close and this means that I will have to purchase a new planner. I don’t want anything technical or fancy. I like my planners old-school, Franklin Covey style. Here’s my problem…I can NEVER find a planner that I like.
I have a very nice, afore mentioned, Franklin Covey leather planner. All I have to do is buy the inserts for it. Sounds easy, right? WRONG! First of all, the inserts cost around $30 for nothing more than a bunch of paper bound together with wire. And I ONLY use the month by month section. I don’t need all the other crap which consists of weekly planners (completely useless to me), SIX pages of international holidays (like I give a flying crap when Denmark celebrates Easter…April 10), three pages of “Inspirational Quotes,” a page on weights and measurements (REALLY?), a world map of time zones (everyone I know lives in a two-state distance of me), four pages of blank notes (what the hell am I taking notes on…am I in school?), and a bunch of “names and addresses” pages. Jesus Christ! I DO NOT need all this, but do you think I can find a planner that doesn’t include all this shit? Nope. Am I alone in thinking planners could be WAY more streamlined and therefore, less expensive?
At least I won’t make the same mistake I did a couple of years ago and buy the “Woman’s Point of View” planner, which gave me tips on how to be a more powerful woman on a monthly basis complete with quotes by famous women (yes, Oprah was in there.) It was the only planner left on the shelf or I wouldn’t have spent an entire year using it. I think it even included a place to record my cycle. Yes, that was a LONG year.
A Close Call
Sonny's Injury 
Sometimes in life, there is a moment so horrific that it makes you appreciate everything you have. That moment happened to me on Saturday night. Not to be too dramatic or anything (probably too late for that), but one of my parakeets almost bit the big one. How could this have happened you ask? Well, let me elaborate…
I have a nightly birdie routine that I do with Sonny and Cher. Around 9:00 P.M., I clean their cage and change out the food. Being the thoughtful mom that I am, I noticed that there was pooh on top of one of their toys and I opened the cage door to wipe it off. Well, Sonny freaked out and flew out of the cage. Now, when I bought my ‘keets a few months ago their wings were clipped and they could not really fly around. They have since both gone through a molt, so their flight wings grew back and Sonny was flying around like a possessed bird, crashing into walls and hitting her head (repeatedly) on the ceiling.
There is really not a worse sound than a bird hitting a wall. This continued for a couple of minutes and I could feel my blood pressure rising because I couldn’t get a hold of her and was certain she was going to break her neck/beak/wing from crashing. I FINALLY got a blanket thrown on her so I could pick her up and get her back in the cage. She was FREAKED OUT. She was breathing really hard and I was trying to remember if birds could have heart attacks or not.
She also scraped the feathers off the top of her head and I can see her skin. It looks like someone took a tiny pair of buzzers and shaved off her feathers. At least she wasn’t bleeding. My next thought was that her brain would swell and she would suffer a Natasha Richardson-type death. I watched her closely all night and soon enough she started acting normal again.
I was VERY relieved this morning when I took the cage cover off and she wasn’t dead on the floor. They will both be seeing the vet this week to have their wings re-clipped and an over-all birdie wellness check-up. I think Sonny is still pissed at me, so I will do what any good mother does and buy her love with new toys! Although, I should really give her a spanking for scaring the crap out of me like that.
Political Genius Or Complete Dumbass? You Make The Call!
I just took the “Political Spectrum Quiz” on Facebook and got some very interesting results. According the powers that be at FB, I am a “left social moderate, a foreign policy centrist, and culturally liberal.” Political quiz say what?! Here’s a breakdown of my scores on a scale of 0-10:
Economic Issues: +4.11, Left
Social Issues: +0.98, Libertarian
Foreign Policy: +0.75, Non-Interventionist
Cultural Identification: +4.88, Liberal
What does all this mean?! First off, I thought Libertarians were from Libya. Am I wrong about that one? Secondly, I think it only ranked me as culturally liberal because I said marijuana should be legalized, along with gay marriage. If they had thrown some questions about porn in there, I’m sure I would have been off the charts. And as far as being a non-interventionist goes, I fully support interventions of any kind, especially when they are taped and broadcast on A&E! Seriously, watch “Intervention” it is an amazing show.
By now, I’m sure you’ve deduced that I am quite the political powerhouse and can go head to head on a variety of hot-button issues. Abortion…sure, why not? Gay marriage…like I stated above I’m fully for it. If they want to be miserable like most of the married couples I know, then they can knock themselves out. Death penalty…okay! Freedom of speech…fuck it. Let people say whatever they want, whenever they want. What harm could it possibly do?
Wow, my political knowledge and debating skills amaze even me! Just for the record I am a registered democrat and I am proud to say I voted for President Osama. I still don’t understand how a Haitian was eligible for the presidency, but maybe they changed the rules. I guess that means The Terminator can finally run in the next election.
Take This Rent And Shove It!
I’m at a financial crossroads and must choose which path to take. Wow, that sounded very serious and deep. Here’s the situation: I moved two years ago into a new apartment which I really like. It is very much an upgrade from my last place. It has two bedrooms, a dining room, my own laundry room, a fireplace, balcony and a carport. It’s even a secured building. I LOVE the location ( I live 5 minutes from where I work) and it’s in a nice, quiet neighborhood. The only problem is, they raised my rent after the first year by $50 a month, which doesn’t sound too bad until I realized that’s an extra $600 a year I hadn’t budgeted for. If ANY of my friends that lived here weren’t already married, I could have one of them be my roomate. But since they all are, and I REFUSE to live with a stranger, the roomate route is out of the question.
After a year of paying this higher rent ($735!), I’m starting to get sick of it. I will NEVER be able to save up for a house at this rate. Soooo what do I do? I could move into a large studio way across town and only pay $420 a month, which would leave me with plenty of extra cash to save up for a house. But, after living here, I’m going to feel like a kid staying in a dorm room. AUGHHHHH! Where the hell is my rich husband?! I HATE moving. I DO NOT want to move again, but obviously I have to put on my big girl panties and make a mature decision about my financial future. Crap. Crap, shit, crap, shit, crap.
