My brief affair with being crafty

Recently, I tried to bring out my crafty/artsy side. Let me tell you, it's not easy for a person who isn't used to exercising her "creative" abilities, to just jump into it full throttle like she knows what the hell she's doing. I like doing crafty things, but I start these endeavors like a crafting queen, and end up fumbling around like a kindergartner trying to tie her shoes for the first time. 

Or I pick it up really quickly, and drop it like a bad habit. That's a really bad metaphor. Drop it like a bad habit. If it were that easy to "drop" it, it wouldn't be a bad habit. Anywho..

So, the extent of my crafting expertise starts with crocheting, knitting, knifty knitting, cross stitch,  loom beading, sewing, painting, and drawing. Of which I do very few. The only thing I think I do now with any semi-consistency is probably crocheting, and of that I only know how to do the same pattern over, and over, and over again.

So last Friday, I decided to have Eeka teach me how to make bracelets. The reason why I wanted to start this project, was because.. well because I like shiny things and I had seen some really shiny beads at Pat Catan's and I wanted to play with them. They're those really popular beads out right now, made of glass I think, called pony beads. I've seen some of those bracelets going for 50$ at some of the jewelery store, and I thought, "Psh, I can make those."

And that's as far as my brain allowed me to think. 

Late Friday morning, Eeka picks me up, runs me around for a few errands, and we head back to her house. I'm sitting at her kitchen table all excited, swinging my feet under the chair like a 4 year old about to bake cookies with mommy for the first time. I was really, REALLY excited about this idea. As she's in the basement looking for all her beads and bracelet paraphernalia, I'm sitting in there coming up with the most brilliant, awesome, eye-catching, money-making ideas for bracelets and various other jewelry for her to sell on her Etsy account. I'm thinking to myself about how good I am at pairing colors together and making patterns. This is going to be the easiest thing I have ever done! I am going to be awesome at it! 

Yeah, no.

Eeka brings up this, well it's almost like a dresser, but it's small and plastic with three see-through drawers in it. Inside each drawer, stuffed and packed and laying there waiting for my eager little fingers, are bags upon bags of tiny glass beads. Now, for those that don't know me, I'm practically blind. I don't wear glasses because I can't seem to find the time between work and being lazy, to go to the damn eye doctor. I can't see more then 10 feet in front of me on a clear day, and half the time I'm looking at anything, I'm squinting. Unless it's a spider. In which case, I invented the term: spidey-senses. I'm still waiting on Marvel to pay me for that idea. 

So anyhow, I wasn't even perturbed by the idea that I possibly wouldn't even be able to see those tiny beads. I was ready to make a damn bracelet. Eeka showed me the different tools she used, from needle nose pliers, to wire cutters, to these weird ass pliers that have round spindle looking things instead of the traditional.. whatever you call the end of them. She even had a bead picker-upper which I dubbed, The Pooper Scooper. It helped to pick the beads up off the mat so you could put them back into their proper baggies. 

The Pooper Scooper

Then she plops each of the drawers out onto the table and starts waving small bags of beads in my face, as well as charms, wires, necklaces, small tubs of beads, a big oxy-clean tub of random beads that you see in children's kits, strings of pearly looking beads, square ones, oval ones, rectangular shaped ones, and one's that were in shapes that couldn't have possibly had easy to pronounce names. 

Beads!

More beads!

OMG MORE BEADS!!!

I had grabby fingers. 

I was excited.

I was in a world of shit and didn't know it.

Eeka flopped a squishy mat in front of me and told me that it makes it easy to hold onto the beads while working. Advice I would soon learn to appreciate. But all I could hear was, "Blah blah blah, beads. Blah blah blah, wire. Blah blah blah, bracelet."

Now, I know I said I was good at picking color schemes and making patterns. But what do you do when every colored bead you could possibly think of is staring at you in a "pick me! pick me!" kind of way? Well, if you're me, you freak out a bit. I started sifting through those beads as if they were going to poof from existence at any second. 

"THIS ONE! Oooh, no! THIS ONE!"

I'm sure that's how I sounded. If I hadn't mentioned, I was really, really excited. So I picked out my beads, shoved the first wire at Eeka, and proudly exclaimed, "ROLL THE END FOR ME!" I was already way in over my head, and didn't even know it. 

Eeka rolling my ends for me.

I started shoving the end of the wire at the beads as if I knew exactly what I was doing, but they wouldn't stay. They kept slipping off the end and rolling away. One or two even popped off and went flying across the table. I fumbled around trying to catch them and make them stick like my life depended on it. This wasn't the awesome daydream from a few minutes ago. This was bracelet making hell. I was determined though. 

You see how tiny those bastards are?!

I grabbed for a pair of scissors and cut the string holding all these blueish looking pearls while Eeka went to check on the baby. Of course, because I hadn't paid attention to the mat part, the beads slipped off the string, bounced and rolled across the wooden table, and fell to the floor. So I crawled down around on my hands and knees, retrieving the runaway pearls, and placed them on the table.

Where they rolled.

And bounced.

And fell onto the floor again. 

I learned really quick what the mat was for.

Once perched back in my chair with the pearls firmly resting on the mat, I continued to poke at the beads, trying to get them to situate themselves into some pattern that was pretty enough for someone to want to wear the damn thing. Eventually I succeeded and made my first bracelet. 

Yay! I did it!

I eventually learned how to roll the ends of my wire on my own as well. Eeka even gave me a pair of reading glasses so I could see those tiny bastards just chilling on the mat. That made it much easier to keep the beads on the wire and hold them in place. 

Normally, I look more human. 

Eventually I learned to make the bracelets a little faster, and before I knew it, with a few smoke breaks in between, I made five of them. 

All five of them

I felt accomplished. It started out wonderfully, then slapped me in the face with reality, then ended on a positive note. 

However, it's not just bracelets that I throw myself into with enthusiasm, it's every project that I start. I still have a blanket that I've been crocheting for the last year or so, and a couple more that I've started and never finished. Scarves I've attempted to knit that just un-weave while being thrown around in my closet, cross stitching that I got half way through and now I have no idea where it's at, and various other projects I've attempted and never committed to. 

I get myself all hyped up on something new, and when the glamour of it has faded away, I push it off to the side and forget all about it. Sometimes I surprise myself that I can even get dressed in the morning with all my non-committal, A.D.D. ways. 

So don't look for me at fairs and flea markets. I won't be opening my own Etsy account. You won't see my name attached to any QVC product line, and I won't be famous except in my head. The experience though was rather enjoyable when I wasn't off chasing beads or cursing them for being so damn tiny. I may even do it again, but this time with more patience and knowledge about what I may be getting myself into. 

So here's a few more pictures of the things I couldn't fit in properly to the rest of the blog, and forgive the quality of the pictures. For once again, I had forgotten my camera and had to take pictures of the experience with my cell phone. Enjoy.

I like the little beads, but I really like the chunky ones. There were just to many options, so I stuck with the small ones so I wouldn't get to overwhelmed.. well more then I already was, anyways.

I couldn't tell if I was using gold or silver beads here, because I kept forgetting that my reading glasses were sitting on my head.

For this one, I used wax string. I also spent 10 minutes digging through the Oxy-clean bucket looking for the different sized colored pearls, and the tiny ass silver beads that kept escaping my fat fingers.

This is one Eeka had done a while back.

Two seconds flat, she had earrings. Creative bitch.

The bracelet Eeka made for her niece.

Hello, Eeka!

Multitasking, a thing I could never do. Bracelet making, phone call, and me.. Like oil and water.

What we accomplished at the end of the day. Not to shabby for a first timer and a busy mom/patient teacher. I must say though, that Eeka is a hell of a lot better at this creative crafty stuff then I am. Props Eeka!

The "Bukkit": A tale of awesomeness and friendship.

Now, I know you're going to say, "What the fuck? This girl can't spell bucket right. I can't follow her blogs anymore, she's illiterate." But bear with me here. See, my friend Lubie (names are changed to personal nicknames for protection. She could be dangerous guys. Just saying.) decided she was going to go back to college. I support her on this idea, because she's a young girl with nothing better to do with her time except to explore the Internet looking for random saying t-shirts and sex paraphernalia. 


So, a little over a year ago, I chose to buy her a few fun school things. Stickers, bright eye shadow, non chipping black fingernail polish, and a few other things. But, because she moved around a lot and it took forever to get her address, and on top of the fact that I placed the package out of sight, I didn't end up sending it to her until this year.


What started out as a few things on her list that she needed, like highlighters and post it notes, turned into a school shopping frenzy. I never really know how to just get the things I need and leave it at that. Instead, I chose to get her a few extra things that would be a surprise and that I know she would like. So, I called up my friend Eeka, told her about this pet project of mine, and off we went. 


Now, Lubie is easily entertained. She's like a big kid, still in love with Hello Kitty. Smart, I may add. Possibly to smart for her own good. Once I told her that I was going to get her school supplies sent off, she about bounced right out of her pants. 


Eeka and I stopped off first at a dollar store. Not a traditional dollar store, where everything is a dollar, but close enough. When we walked in, with her 1 year old son in tote, I was a bit disappointed to see that their school aisle was very small. There wasn't much left to it, and this was because school was already underway. So I sifted through the random odds and ends looking for the things she needed, and then some extras. 


With Eeka's son sitting in the main part of the smallest cart I have ever seen in my entire life, I had to carry most of my measly possessions in my hands, because he kept taking what I put in and throwing it out. So here I am, standing in this aisle with a note book in one hand, and a handful of mini sharpies in the other. As I turned the corner, I found the actual dollar aisle. Like a kid in a candy store, I flipped through that shit like it was going out of style. Mini notebooks, stickers, bracelets, pencils, fake tattoos. I grabbed everything that looked about as stupid as what you'd get for a kid you didn't know or care about. Luckily though, I was already told that Lubie preferred stupid little stuff. 


So here I am, wandering around the store with my arms full of crap, when I find even more fake tattoos. This time, with glitter! OH HAPPY DAYS!! This, is a bonus. Lubie LOVES glitter. I don't just mean love, I mean.. she'd hump the shit out of a watermelon if someone told her she could have a whole tube of glitter. Sparkling, shining, glitter. As I turn around, I noticed there were coloring books behind me. Now, distracted as I get, which is pretty damn easily, I found for myself a number fill in book. You know how hard those things are to find?! I've been looking for a few years now, and here it was. Smack dab in this tiny little store just a few short blocks from my house. I grabbed one for me, and a word find for Lubie, when I noticed the biggest abomination on the face of the planet!


"NOOOOO!! THIS! IS! WRONG!" I think I may have actually screamed that. I'm juggling a hand full of mini sharpies, fake tattoo's, books, notepads, and random other things, while snatching a My Little Pony coloring book out of its resting spot and glaring at it like I could actually make it change. 


Here, in my full yet angry little hands, is this.. new version of My Little Pony. They look like cats that sniffed to much crack! Not that I've seen a cat that sniffed to much crack, but this was close enough. I was appalled! Outraged! Horrified! This wasn't the My Little Pony of my childhood! This was some altered, mangled, anime-like version that would probably have given me nightmares had I been 7 again. I flipped through the pages angrily muttering to myself. Through my fingers slipped the carefully selected purchases for Lubie, already long forgotten in my rage.

"THIS IS WRONG! VERY WRONG!"

Around this time, Eeka came and pulled me out of my angry, yet silent, reverie. I shoved the coloring book back in it's slot, exclaiming the entire time to Eeka about how they just ruined a classic. The whole time, she's eyeballing me like I've lost my mind, and her son is chomping away on the handle of the cart. I collected the things I had dropped, and rounded the corner of the aisle. I had to get away from that abomination before I set it on fire. I'm still debating on writing to the creators of My Little Pony and asking them what kind of drugs they've been taking lately. My first assumption would be acid, but I digress.


Low and behold, the next aisle turned out to be a school supply shoppers wet dream. Eeka even pointed out this humongous eraser that said, for BIG mistakes. I couldn't pass that up. Lubie had just had a rather hard time lately, and it was a good indicator that she could easily erase the big mistakes of her past. Well, that's what I had hoped. I know you can't really, but I at least thought it was funny, and Lubie would understand. So in the cart it went, along with a giant pack of sharpies and a few packs of post it notes. 


Now, I know I said that Lubie was amorous for glitter, but that's nothing compared to how insane she is for sharpies. My goal, was to get her as many different colored sharpies as I could possibly find. I tossed in an 8 pack of those little bastards, and a couple of single ones as well. They didn't have all the colors in the 8 pack, so I had to get a few extras.

 I also found her some rather bright eye shadow, a couple of hair clips and some black nail polish. We paid for our purchases and off we went to Walmart. That's when this horrible thought struck me.






I could not get her things into the manila envelope that I had picked out for her a year ago.




Plus, I forgot stickers.




Thank God we were going to Walmart. Eeka had to get a few things, and I had to find a box of sorts to get all this crap stuffed into and sent out. Only, I forgot that Walmart had a bigger section of school supplies, and again, I went nuts. I ran around that section like there weren't already a hundred people crammed into 5 dinky aisles. I snatched things out from in front of people, squeezed between children like I was 20 lbs skinnier and darted in and out of aisles like a kid at Christmas. 

Crazy lady coming through, watch out! 

More sharpies were procured in this adventure, including another giant pack that had just ONE color that Lubie didn't. There went 8 bucks for one sharpie. 


Eeka, unbeknownst to how crazy I was going at the moment, pointed out this cute little blue dinosaur cup that allowed you to drink out of it's tail. A "Sippersaurus" they called it. I snatched that out of her hand like she might light it on fire and melt it's plastic ass at any second. I felt a little like Golem in the Lord of the Rings. Mine. My own. My precious.. well, for my precious Lubie anyways. 

My sharpies. My own. My precious.

I have no idea what's wrong with me, I don't try to control it. I just go with the flow. It hurts no one really. 


I found a Hello Kitty pencil bag that I thought would hold all this shit, some hello kitty stickers, a few more note books, a funky looking calculator, and different colored pens. Once shopped out for school supplies, I left my insanity behind me and decided to come back to the normal world of helping my friend, who thankfully put up with my crazy ass for so long, to shop for the things she needed. That's when I found.. The Bukkit! It was just a regular old, plastic storage tote for things such as I had bought, with a lid that snapped on by two handles. For 4 bucks, I figured that Lubie could carry all her stuff in there to school with her. 


I don't know what the hell I was thinking, because it was quite obvious that this bukkit of sorts would be to big to fit in any normal sized backpack. But I bought it anyways. It was sturdy, and it would last the shipping process from Ohio to Texas. Once we left Walmart, Eeka took me to UPS to get it shipped off. In the back of her Blazer, I tore open packages, and stuffed as much as I could into that pencil bag. Only, I got about half of it in there before I realized that I couldn't get the damn thing zipped up. So I decided that if I could just get the sharpies and highlighters in there, it would be worth it. Everything else, I just poured into the bukkit. Once closed and the lid tightly locked into place, I damn near danced my way into the store with this "Oh-my-God-I'm-such-an-awesome-friend" look on my face. 

I bounced up to the counter, proud of myself more then any person could possibly be proud of themselves, and plopped the bukkit up onto the counter. I was beaming. The lady behind the counter, on the other hand, thought I was nuts, but I didn't care. I was awesome! 


"Uh, do you want to ship this like it is, or would you like a box?" she asked. 


"A box please!" I practically sang.


She found the most perfect box, that fit snugly around the bukkit, and cut it down to size. She then taped it with what I thought was tender affection, only because I was so elated at having finally accomplished my goal. I was high. High off my awesomeness. She was probably just taping it with the same tenderness she would tape any ones package. Plus, it was almost 5 o'clock. She was probably silently cursing me for being a last minute shipper.


I didn't care, I didn't see it. I just wanted to ship it off and call Lubie up and say, YOU'RE GETTING YOUR PACKAGE TOMORROW!


Only, it didn't happen that way. After 20$, a million things to sign for, insurance to discuss and 3 phone calls that interrupted my sales lady, she informed me that the package wouldn't get there till next Friday. Today was Thursday. A whole week! A WHOLE WEEK! I could feel myself deflating like an over sized balloon with a million holes. Lubie started school Monday. This was supposed to be there before then. I just paid 20 bucks for standard shipping! 


I grabbed my receipt and shuffled out of the door with the woman saying thank you and have a good night in an entirely way to chipper voice. I made it out to the car without killing anyone, got inside and fumed. I told Eeka the price and how long it would get there. 


"Hell, you could have gotten it cheaper through the regular post office. It's only 4 bucks for anything there, and takes three days."


I could have killed her. I contemplated it. I really did, but then who would change her son's ass? Sure as hell wouldn't be me. I've seen the damage that thing could do. Saved by her son's butt. She should be thanking her lucky stars. You could say that the love and friendship we have would be enough to save her, but no. It was the diaper changing. The poop. I love you Eeka, and if you read this, know that I love you, but if you ever do that to me again, I will.. I don't know, stomp on your baby toe or something.


So I sent Lubie a text, telling her that the bukkit would be there sometime at the end of next week, and to look for it. All that for a friend's I'm-so-proud-of-you-for-going-to-college gift. What a crock of shit. I also left her with strict instructions to NOT OPEN IT, until I could see her do it on web cam. She pouted, but she assented. 


Everyday she waited anxiously for that bukkit to get there, only to be as disappointed as I was about it taking so damn long to get there. What the hell was it's path? Was it going around the world? I mean, seriously. Three days tops! But noooo, a whole flipping week!


Friday rolled around, and still, no bukkit. I checked religiously at the UPS website, following the tracking number only to be told that it was en route, and would get there late in the evening. Lubie and all our friends were online. It was Bukkit Day. A new holiday. We had been talking about it all week long and everyone was sitting on pins and needles. We waited, and waited.. and the day kept going on. Where the hell was that bukkit?! I checked again, but to no avail. Nothing had changed. It was still en route. 

This is true. Only bills show up when you don't want the mail.

Lubie didn't give warning. She didn't say anything about waiting anxiously except for that she was listening for the door. All the sudden, she popped back up online typing as fast as her little fingers would allow. The bukkit.. had arrived! 


She was so excited, she posted a picture on Facebook of her hugging the package.

"Oh bukkit, how I love you!"

Then of her trying to gnaw her way into it.

Om nom nom!

Then finally, after the web cam was turned on, I allowed her via Internet, to open her bukkit. I've always seen kids in those Christmas movies acting all excited and happy about things they have gotten, and the joy that lit up their faces at the gifts, but I can't ever say I've actually SEEN it, including in the few pictures of myself as a baby. But here is Lubie, 21 years old, flailing and bouncing and glowing, ACTUALLY GLOWING, with excitement at the stupid shit I just bought her. Nothing was to cheap, or stupid, or kid like. She loved it all. That was actually worth seeing. It was worth all the irritation at the My Little Pony coloring book, the evil bad news lady at the UPS store, and the weeks worth of disappointment at hoping that it might just show up early. 


Lubie tried out everything. She poured Sunny D in the Sippersaurus and drank from it's ass. 

Sunny D from a dinosaurs ass is amazing! :D

She put a tattoo on her foot, in the same place where I have a real tattoo on my foot. 

And she shared with everyone what she got. 

Including her awesome eraser.

But the best part of all this, isn't so much her getting her gifts, it was the after affect. Lubie herself had been having such a shitty week, that this actually made it totally worth it. Erased all her bad days and made her forget all the crap that had happened. Later that night when she got a call from her mom, she shared with her how happy the bukkit had made her and all the things she had received, and that's when her mom came up with a pretty awesome fucking idea.


Take the bukkit, and pass it along. Pass on the happiness that it brought to you. Maybe she had been reading to much Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, but we didn't care. The second that Lubie told us the idea, we jumped on it like fat kids on cake. Addresses were passed around, and rules made up by all of us. Now, let me explain by who I mean when there are all of us. Most of us are girls, but there are a few guys. We've all met online at one specific site, and for the most part, we've all been really good friend for a couple of years. No, we've not met in person yet, but we're still pretty close. Like a circle of best Internet friends. I will most likely be talking about them a lot, because we have some pretty awesome stories and funnies that should be shared, but I won't go into it right now. 


So now, the bukkit sits in Lubie's house, waiting to be filled with a few things before getting sent off. We've all exchanged addresses, and even made up a small wish list of some items we wouldn't mind getting. There's even a journal that will be sent along with the bukkit, for entries, and even a picture of that person holding the bukkit in their possession. (That is actually one of the rules, you have to take a picture of yourself with the bukkit, put it in the journal, and send it off to the next person.)


To make it more interesting, the next person is chosen at random. That way, the happiness is just as random. You have to complete the whole circle before someone can receive it again. A sticker or possibly a small drawing is to be put on the bukkit itself. When the journal gets full, the next person to receive it, gets to keep the journal, and then replaces it with a new one, starting us all over again. 


Who knew, that when I ran around like a chicken with my head cut off, I would be inspiring an idea to spread happiness to multiple people. Bringing relationships closer. Ensuring our Internet friendship was more then that, but a solid, real, lasting friendship between a dozen people.


I knew I was awesome. 

The bukkit of Awesomeness.

20 things as a cashier, that really piss me off.

1. No one cares about your exact change.. I can count faster then you can dig through your bottomless pit of a purse/pocket. Stop acting like an idiot. 

I mean really? Is it necessary? I know you want to stop carrying all that change in your pocket. I know it's heavy, but don't they have things in your car that you can dump your change into? Or if you aren't driving, there are change purses. Or better yet, DONATE IT! Lots of places have things you can dump your change into if you really don't want to carry it. I know with the economy, every penny counts at home. Use jars at home for the end of the day, and dump it in there. Then, after it fills, take it to the bank and change it in for cash. Do something with it. Anything! I don't care. But no. People have to stand there, bitching about how long a line will take, and then when it's their turn, they stand there fumbling around in pockets and purses to get 23 cents so they get a full dollar back. Is the change going to just magically create a sink hole one day and drag you down into it? I don't know. Maybe it's just me. But I'm a pretty damn fast cashier, and by the time you dig out that change, I've already got your 20$ bill broken down and handed back to you. It doesn't really bother me if you're the only person in line, but when you can clearly see I have 7 people behind you, be courteous. Get your shit, and get out. 

2. I'm not your therapist. You don't give a shit about my personal life, so stop telling me about yours. I'm just a cashier.

It's pretty inevitable that when I'm cashiering, someone is going to ask me how my day has gone, how are you, etc. I try to keep it simple by saying something like, Peachy keen, jelly bean, wonderful, or some other such bullshit, when deep inside me I wanna say, IT'S BEEN A FUCKED UP DAY! But I don't, because the last thing someone spending 3 minutes in my line needs to hear, is about my problems. Especially since they don't know me, and that could get kinda awkward. Then, I have to do the follow up question, and I always mentally cringe.. "How are you?". The floodgates have opened. I hear about divorces, marriages, kids, parents, animals, neighbors, work, and even body issues. I start getting asked questions like, "What do you think?" NO! NO! I don't think! I'm just mindlessly booping your merchandise and taking your cash. My conversation with you should be done by the time I hand you your receipt, but instead I find myself nodding my head and getting swept up in Uncle Bob's hernia surgery and Grandma Bertie's surprise baby at 40. There's no need for that! Next time, I'm telling someone about pin worms. 

3. We don't do free babysitting.. stop dropping your brats off at the door and letting them tear shit up, or I'm coming to your house and doing the same.

Ok, I like children. I'll even go so far as to say I love them. Sometimes. Better yet when they go home. Seriously people, the next time your child is left unattended, I'll round it up and stick it in a cage with  a for sale sign. I one time saw a sign at a store that said, "Children left unattended will be sold to Gypsies." I think that's a wonderful idea. 

4. If you can put it in your cart, you can take it out. Don't make me stop what I'm doing when I'm the only person there to take your crap out. Quit being lazy. Dumbass.

The only exception to this rule, I feel, are the elderly, the disabled, and the pregnant. Or a person with broken hands. I really don't mind helping someone take stuff out of their cart, it's just that when I see someone perfectly capable of removing it being lazy, like I'm there to wipe their ass personally, it really ticks me off.

5. I think I know my prices better then you do, and what I have in my store. If you know so much more then me, take my job. No, seriously, take it.

I think I covered that one pretty well there.

6. Don't give me that line of, "Do you know who I am?" No, I don't, and I don't care either.. Do you know who I am? Your intimidation tactics are: FAIL!

I covered that one pretty well, too. This isn't a movie, there's no one around to go, "OMG, she's a big shot." No, I'm sorry, but you're lame. I don't care who you are, what you or your husband/wife does, parents, Aunt's, Uncle's, Cousin's, Next door neighbors dog does. Probably shits on your lawn when they walk by. Just because YOU think you're something, doesn't mean others perceive you the same way. Pull your head from your ass and walk on. 

7. Snobbery and temper tantrums get you no where. I don't care. You're just showing me how much of an idiot you are. Don't give me that temptation...

Because after enough bullshit, I will point it out. 

8. If I'm outside, smoking a cigarette.. that means I am on break. DO NOT DISTURB! I'm not required to be nice anymore... I will use force if necessary! 

Usually I'll just ignore you, but if you continue to pester me, I might use force.

9. Don't ask me "Do you work here?" when I'm A: behind the register B: stocking shelves and C: wearing a company shirt. I will tell you "NO".

Which I have done a few times. I still laugh about that every time it happens. You deserved it. Dumbass. 

10. GET OFF YOUR F@#$ING CELL PHONE!!!

GET OFF YOUR F@#$ING CELL PHONE!!! God, that's rude. My parents always taught me to not talk to someone when they are talking to someone else. Don't interrupt. Out of respect for you, I won't tell you what your total is, ask for a rewards card that could save you money, point out the return policy, or even tell you to have a nice day. That would be interrupting, and that would be rude.

11. It's really rude when you hand out crumpled bills, throw them on the counter, then expect the change to go into your palm. I'm not a dog, I don't fetch. Next time, I'm throwing that shit across the counter. :)

GOD I'D LOVE TO REALLY DO THAT!! But, I know what it feels like to have someone throw something at you unexpectedly. 

12. We are not a bank! When the store opens, DON'T BRING ME A 100$ BILL! I'll send your ass across the street. Same thing goes for refunds. Cuz then I get the attitudes and the snobbery and tantrums, and I'll have to use rule # 7.

How stupid are you really to think that a store would be able to cash that large of a bill when it first opens. Some places have signs that say, No bills (enter numerical number here) after specific time. I think everyone should have one for opening too. Refunds as well. If you have a 80$ purchase, don't refund it first thing in the morning. Most stores are open 12 hours a day, I'm sure you can find at least 5 minutes of your day to bring something in that doesn't require it to be 30 seconds after the doors open. Unless we have a long line, and there's only one cashier, in which case.. You're fuuuuuuuuuucked!

13. Just cuz you've seen me at work, doesn't mean that I'm the same way OFF THE CLOCK. If you see me outside of work, don't expect me to be the same as when I'm there, getting paid to deal with your crap.

I HAVE to be nice to people on the clock, it's my job. When I'm not at work, you get to take your chances. 

14. Do I look like I work at Walmart? Seriously? I don't know what they have, how much it is, and where it's located. Same thing for every other store.

 I don't run into this to often, but when I do, it's because I've suggested to someone that this place might just have the item they are looking for. Now, in that case, the blame falls on me. I should just keep my big mouth shut

15. Read your return policy. Throw something at me again, and I'll throw it back at you. Dick.

That's right, I've had things thrown at me. Not just little things either, but vases, books, metal wall art, candles, toothbrush holders, plastic cups, plant pots, lunch boxes, etc. Most every place has a return policy. If you can't find it or don't know it, please, don't be afraid to ask. We're not REQUIRED to tell it to you, but for some things we will. However, if one more things flies across the counter at me.. you're shit out of luck buddy. There is only so much a cashier can do, and some things are just out of our control. But since we are the "face" of the company, we also get the shit for it. Not all places have awesome return policies like Kohl's, and we can't just super cede the policy and procedures of things. Unless you're planning to feed and house me, then sure, I'll get fired over your 2$ candle.

16. When it's closing time, that means I wanna go home. I'm not getting paid anymore. So no, I will not wait another 10 minutes while you shop. We've been open 12 hours.. wtf have you been doing?

The only reason why I mention this is we have a Dr here in our small town that is notorious for showing up at 2 minutes to closing time on her cell phone, and wanting to shop for an hour like we all have nothing better to do then to wait on her. It drives me nuts. Her excuse was, "I only have this time of the day to shop". Well, Walmart is open 24/7, go there. You're telling me that you only have the two minutes before we close at 9 o'clock to shop? Now, in all fairness, she has a non working husband and 5 kids, I'd want to get out too. 

17. If you're gonna walk all the way over to where we store the carts, don't just push it towards them, take the extra 5 steps and tuck it into another cart.

This has to be my biggest pet peeve. You walk ALL THE WAY over to the carts, and can't take the extra steps to push the cart in. NOOO! Heaven forbid! This way, the carts get all jumbled up, locked together in some weird ass voodoo maze, and I can't get out from behind my service desk to fix it. Especially if you're that person that has the ONE bag, you're telling me you can't tuck your cart in? RAWR!

18. Just because the aisles are wider now, doesn't mean you can stop there and have a conversation with someone else. People are trying to shop/work/get through. This also goes for the parking lot. You deserve to get hit by a truck if you're standing out in the middle of the road. 

Enough said. 

19. If you see me with a cart full of stuff, stocking shelves, and/or have the aisle blocked off, that isn't an invitation to come over and rifle through my crap or wander around like the village idiot.

Why? WHY?! 

20. Stop swiping your card before it's time. I'm just gonna stand there until you're done. When I'm ready, I'll let you know.

Walmart, and maybe some other places, have the neatest invention ever in their card machines. The customer gets to swipe before hand, and by the time they are done, so is the cashier, usually. I think this is a wonderful thing to have and that all places should have it. But alas, they do not. Therefore, please wait until instructed further, before taking it upon yourself to swipe your card through the machine like a mad person with some kind of unheard of swiping disease. I find it rather funny personally, until the customer starts bitching about how their card isn't working in the machine and that I need to fix it. No, it's not the machine, it you. Unheard of concept, I know, but we can not all be as amazingly awesome as you are. 

Wow, so.. this is the first post. Kinda scary, and I feel that there is A LOT of pressure to make sure this is the one that "catches the  eye" of the reader. That way, I can bring you back for more of my non-sensical  ramblings.  Fortunately for me, I don't really give a shit. So, sorry guys, but the pressure is off. 

I guess I could explain a few things, like why I'm here and what I may be writing about. First and foremost, let me say that, for the most part, I'll probably be bitching 90% of the time. I'll try to make it as funny as possible, so that you don't think I'm just whining to get sympathy. I think it would be kind of cool to actually make a connection with at least ONE other person out there while I'm rambling away.  On a side note, it'd be really helpful if my boyfriend wasn't attempting to have a full on texting conversation with me. I have A.D.D. and I really don't need to be distracted. 

Well, ok, I don't know if I really have it, I just know that I can't be bothered to focus enough attention to finding out if I have it. It's just not in me to pay attention that much. There's to many things going on around me that deserve my attention for the 0.0004 seconds I can focus. 

Back to what I was saying.. If I can remember. OH! Yeah, I'm going to attempt to make this kind of like a rant session, with random things posted here and there. My goal here is to make a few laughs, share a few stories, and hopefully clear the things off my chest that just NEED to be said. 

You may not like them, and you may not agree, but.. It's my damn blog and I'll say what I want about what I want to. Of course, there are a few subjects that I won't go into, and if you think really hard, you may actually even already know what. 

Religion.

Politics. 

Toe socks. 

Ok, I might mention toe socks here and there. BUT DON'T SHOOT ME! I'm just the messenger. 

The idea behind this blog, starts with the name. A "Girl-topian" Society. Now, guys, don't think that this is JUST for women. I'm not gonna drag on an entire post about Aunt Flo and hormone changes. Seriously, it's not my forte. Plus, I don't want to start getting comments about personal body fluctuations. It's more along the lines of what my general idea of a working, functioning, STUPIDITY FREE society would be like. 

Yes, one of my biggest pet peeves is blatant stupidity. And I will point it out. I have no qualms about that in the least. If I see you on the street performing acts of stupidity, I will, and without hesitation, point a finger at you (hopefully while carrying a megaphone) and scream at the top of my lungs.. "WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID?!". 

But back to the matter at hand. A "Girl-topian" Society. My "Girl-topian" society. Where people can say what they want and mean what they say. Where things that don't seem to matter, will. The little things, the big things, and everything in between. Say for instance, work. I will talk a lot about work. I will complain, and bitch. Friends and boyfriends will not be exempt from this either.  Things I find of value and interest.  Whatever comes into my mind that needs to be discussed, pointed out, bitched about. Questions to be asked and hopefully answered. This way, maybe if everyone can get on the same page as me (I know it'll never happen, but is is MY GIRL-TOPIAN SOCIETY after all) life would be a little bit better. Easier. Understandable. 

Then again, I do (think I)  have A.D.D. and I might just be spouting stupid shit that will make no sense to anyone. So enjoy it if you can, bring up subjects that you might want me to discuss and hopefully, if I'm lucky, I can make someone laugh, because at the end of the day, if we can all laugh together, then I've created a "Girl-topian" society.