Recent conversation between me and my mother

Me: Ugh. I hate cramps!! I wish if you didn't use your uterus it would just dry up and go away!

Mom: Me too. I think God made a big mistake.

Me: I'M not saying he made a big mistake. I'd probably grow a third ovary. That would be crap.

The state bird better get its shiz together if ya know what I mean

Recently I noticed a disturbing trend. I know I'm not the only one as others have also voiced concern. Maybe you too have see the unholy amount of flying grasshoppers in the last week.

I first had my run in with the--in my humble opinion--perfect scenario for a horror film a couple days ago. As coming around the corner to the parking lot after just having left work a flying grasshopper hit me in the chest. It was disgusting and I did the freak out-flap awkwardly-squall like a singed cat-thing. It wasn't pretty. I wasn't sure what had hit me at first but I knew it was insectile, of questionable size and that it had touched the bare skin directly above my collarline. Yep that was enough to set me off. I noticed five or six flying "things" while I continued to get into my car. When one finally landed in my sight and I realized what it was I felt utter revulsion. Why were all these grasshoppers just hanging in a parking lot? I'd never seen anything like it.

Which means... there's dark forces at work here.

After I got home Randy and I went to the movies in American Fork. Upon getting out of the Murano and walking to the entrance I was accosted with a spectacle of dozens of locusts flying all over the sidewalk. I basically had a melt down. I lunged out of the way of several offenders and the started to run; quite a feat considering I have total PMS and my boobs have swollen another cup size, are massive, heavy and HURT. The aforementioned extra top-weight caused me to sort of totter strangely in a back and forth motion while attempting to run , much like a circus bear walking on its hind legs. It was shocking. Quite shocking.

I entered the theaters screeching something about how SO FREAKING GROSS it was and with my hair standing on end.

Growing up as a tomboy I played with these things daily. I caught grasshoppers and drowned them. I pulled off their legs. I wasn't scared of them in the least.

Perhaps its payback. Perhaps. My feelings about grasshoppers changed completely the last year of Junior High where we had to make an insect collection for Biology.

Bug collection? Please, that's an easy A. My friend Lucky and I took to the field behind our houses in search of thirty insects needed for our assignments as we did as kids, this time however, armed with bottles of rubbing alcohol. While catching bugs in the field a grasshopper landed in my hair (as if that isn't horrific enough---read on) and I dropped my bottle without it being totally sealed and lost a good deal of the alcohol but it still seemed to be doing the trick. Directly after this I caught a huge green flying grasshopper that I will from this time forth refer to as 'Satan in Bug Form'. Satan was about 2.5-3 inches long, bright grass green, with startlingly yellow eyes. I shoved him in the bottle not knowing if the tiny amount of alcohol I had in the jar would knock out this gargantuan or not so I shook it about and several minutes later even Satan was added to the number of collection specimens.

That evening after rounding up almost all the insects I needed in one foul swoop I started taking them out of the jar and laying them on newspaper to dry out as the alcohol will indeed eat them if left in it for an extended amount of time and I needed to mount them on foam core still. I then went to bed.

In the morning I went down stairs in my night gown to find that my dad had turned on a fan and it had blown my dead bugs around the table. I began my disgusting quest of picking them all up and organizing them on the foam. I wanted to put them on largest to smallest, however when I got to the spot reserved for the largest I found Satan not in the place I left him to dry and began to look under the table where the newspaper had been. I started to carefully scan the horrible seventies printed carpet in the basement. I got down on my hands and knees and looked back and forth. Two feet in under the table, directly in front of me was all three green inches of Satan in Bug Form.

Staring at me.

And getting ready at any second to leap directly at my FACE.

I screamed. I screamed at the top of my lungs. It was about ten in the morning on a Sunday. My mom was upstairs on the phone in the kitchen. I screamed bloody murder and in a moment of fight or flight response I flew up the basement stairs hollering over and over again "Its alive!! Its ALIVE!!!!" I remember the look on my Mom's face as I tore through the kitchen. I didn't stop till I got to my bedroom and dived into my covers only to lay there and shutter in revulsion. I had bug dreams for MONTHS.

Since then I cannot look at a grasshopper without goose bumps and complete loathing. So... if this little fad of locusts becomes a full on infestation you can just forget about it. I'm at home. In bed. Hiding.

To all my friends who KNOW.

This is for all my peeps (yes I used peeps, and not in a way which would seem like I find it's usage cool) who can relate. The people who deal with the public on a day to day basis and especially those who have toiled in the fiery pit of retail. This goes out to all of you:

An Expensive Temper Tantrum, Part 2

Wireless Phone Retail Store | Nashville, TN, USA

(Back story: I sold a woman four phones on a family plan for her and her 3 teenage daughters. She insisted that she be put on the 500 minute plan (the smallest family plan). I informed her that most teenagers can use 500 minutes in a week and begged her to take a larger plan.

She refused and became quite angry and belligerent with me for suggesting “that her daughters were not responsible adults.” I noted on her account that she was advised of all overage charges and that there were to be no refunds on the account for overage charges. One month later she returns purple faced and on the verge of a stroke with her $3,200 phone bill.)

Customer: “I need these charges taken off.”

Me: “No, I explained the overage scale to you when you activated your phone, and begged you to take a larger plan. You insisted this was the one you needed and I cannot refund any of the charges.”

Customer: “F**k you then, and f**k [cellular provider]. Cancel my account!”

Me: “I’ll be happy to deactivate your phones but unfortunately that does not release you from your contract. There will be a $240.00 charge for each phone on the account for breaking your contract and you will still be responsible for the current charges.”

(The customer suddenly throws her phone at my head. I duck and it smashes into the wall in a million pieces.)

Customer: “F**K [cell phone provider]! F**K YOU, AND F**K ALL OF YOU A**HOLES TOO!”

(Inexplicably, the last part was directed at the other customers waiting patiently for her to finish. She then proceeds to storm out to her car, a brand new Lexus SC 430. She redlines the engine, drops it into gear and hits a lamp post hard enough to shatter every piece of glass in the car as well as almost tearing the front half of the car off.)

Customer: *comes back in the store* “Can I use your phone?”

Another Customer: “Karma’s a b**ch, ain’t it?”

I read this gem and many many others like it on Not Always Right which I discovered through Voice of Reason (link on right) who also posted one of her favorites which was, luckily enough, from Utah. Watch out if you plan to visit Not Always Right as the sheer number of horrific, absurd, and mind numbing customer/associate interaction can prove to be VERY amusing and also a tiny personal time machine as when you next look at the clock four hours will have passed.

Better take a snack.

Things have certain names for a reason..

A recent text message conversation between Randy and I:

Randy: Hey do we have the stuff you need to make meatloaf?

Me: Ugh, how would I know? I hate the stuff. I think you need breadcrumbs, so no.

Randy: How can you hate it? It's like a big hamburger!!

Me: Meat. Loaf. Meat. Loaf. Meat. LOAF. Come on, it even SOUNDS bad.

Randy: How old are you? Shape it like a big hamburger then and not a loaf.

Me: Loaf is LOAF. If it wasn't it wouldn't have all that extra crap in it and it would just be called MEAT.

Randy: Who said you had to put extra crap in it?

Me: *sigh* Well then it wouldn't be a meatloaf would it?

Randy: You can call it whatever you want.

Me: You. There's hamburger here. When you get home you can make it into, or CALL it whatever you want!

By the time he got home however, I had already decided that the hamburger was destined for better things and so was I: tacos.

Because really, meatloaf? Tell me that's not just a title that also serves as a warning. Seriously.

Bah Humbug!!

In the spirit of the season I thought it was time to spout off some festive crap followed by a disclaimer stating how this season has been good for me and how that means bad things for YOU as my friends and loved ones. So without further ado...

Every year right around this time I am once again reminded why I detest Christmas music SO much. Every store I walk into has the mindless droning of a musician who thought a Christmas album would be great to pad the ole pocket book. I'll go ahead and compare it to say... the Twilight movie. Its the music version of that. Lets hurry and make it and shove it out there to be bought by the masses while its marketable, who cares if it's MADE well? Anyway... I digress. Don't get me wrong. There are some good ones out there, but you can only play them so many times in a space of time between Halloween and Christmas (Thank you Cozy and FM100 for singlehandedly making my ears bleed) before you gotta start filling in the holes with the real stinkers. The following is a list of songs that if I never hear again I won't be all peein' my pants about:

5. Wonderful Christmas time by Paul McCartney. Love love love it when he tries to get that extra syllable to fit.
4. Little Drummer Boy by David Bowie and Bing Crosby. Say what?? Who said, "ya know, I know who would just be GREAT together!!"
3. Anything sang by the Chipmunks, Muppets and or fictional cartoon or holiday characters. Do I have Barney playing in my car? No. I don't wanna hear its equivalent sang while I'm shopping either. 'Nuff said.
2. Grandma Got Ran Over by a Reindeer by Dr Elmo. I can't believe stations even PLAY this. They are probably the same people that think Larry the Cable Guy is funny.

And finally the one you are all waiting for...

1.The Christmas Shoes by Newsong. Oh holy night, is that a BAD song. The person who wrote it should be publically flogged.

Did I miss anything??

And now on a last note, this year Randy and I decided that the bargains were too good to pass up, Christmas or no, on some things we have wanted for a long time. We recently purchased both a new desktop (post coming about THAT later) and a new flat screen TV. What does that mean for you??? You're all getting an old sock with candy in it. Sorry guys!

sweet sweet oblivion

Today my uterus tried to stage a coup. It mustered it's buddies; the Fallopian Tube brothers and Ovary twins to shake things up. Apparently it thought I would just roll over (without popping open my ever present mammoth sized bottle of ibuprofen) and DIE???

Silly, silly, little uterus.

I have since reestablished my tyrannical rule.

Peace out.