Bullshit Manifesto

I’m not talking dear skins, nor am I talking dollars. I’m talking responsibilities. Passing the buck, essentially.

The store I work in supplies another store with their merchandise. They fax their orders in, I make the order to send to our distributor, then when it comes in we count it, sell it to them, and they pick it up. Easy enough.

This past week my boss has been dealing with her husband’s health issues. He had kidney stones, but in checking the kidneys they found a tumor. Thankfully they cught it as early as they did, so they’ll be able to remove it before any major damage is done. They may have to remove the kidney entirely, but that’s a small price to pay.

In all of this hustle, the orders for this other store have not been done for 1 week. That’s exactly 7 days.

The guy that we deal directly with, who I typically call Mr. Happy Pants, has been an annoyance more than once. The manager of the other store went to him to complain that we hadn’t given her orders for a month. I didn’t here this from Mr. Happy Pants, because he went to my boss’s boss. This wasn’t the best thing to do.

See, my boss’s boss, who I will call Pi, trusts us. He is also thorough. He called me up and asked about the claim. I looked up their info and showed that there were, in fact, orders done this month. The last one being a week ago.

Mr. Happy Pants is a prick. This combines with several other gripes will likely result in him getting a piece of Pi. Wow, that was unintentional. Piece of Pi.

The moral of the story is that if you are going to pass the buck, you better be sure that they don’t have a computer that can track your Happy ass.

Oh, and shit shit shit shit shit shit fuck. FCC this, bitch.

The subject of my dad is a rather lengthy one in and of itself, but I’d like to touch on one of thefacets of this jewel. He knows a lot of information, but he’s not very smart. Sound confusing? Let’s see if I can draw an analogy… He would likely win on Jeopardy, but he was confused about the end of American Beauty because he couldn’t figure out who killed Kevin Spacey. I know what you’re saying, “But the guy had blood on his shirt and started crying, how could he be confused?” I dunno, I’m just stating the facts. You with me?

A father just came in with his son to buy a uniform. He came in with his other son’s so he would know what to get. He mentioned in passing that this is his 4th son. Alright, so he should be a pro by now, right? Heh…

He had no idea how to buy his son clothes. I’d figure it would be pretty easy, given the fact that this is his 4th son, but that’s where I’d be wrong in asuuming that he has intelligence greater than iceplant. He had no idea how to buy a shirt, pants, or much anything else. After telling him to have his son try on a shirt and pants he still had difficulty.

In the end he got a pair of pants and a shirt, but left no fewer than 4 shirts out that he hadn’t even tried on, and two pairs of pants, too. On top of all this he smelled bad.

So after I have kids, am I going to become retarded? Perhaps my personality will merely be enhanced, which is to say that my dad and this moron were likely already slightly retarded but then after becoming a father their idiocy intensified. If that’s the case, I’m going to be one intelligent, silly, dorky mother fucker. Heh, mother fucker… because that’s what I’d be…

It’s pet peeve time on The Loop. We’ve all got them, and I’d like to share a couple of mine.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did.”

“Can I ask you another one?”

I could go on for days with this one. Just ask me the question, or tell me that you have a question to ask. If you ask me if you could ask me a question, you just wasted your breath and my time by assuming you could ask the question to begin with. Fucking morons.

W-O-L-F. Wolf. Not woof, wolf. Woof is the sound a dog makes. I understand that dogs and wolves are similar, and sometimes crossbreed, but the sound one makes and the name of the other are not the same. Does Weird Al sings pookas? No, they’re polkas.

Supposably. Conversate. Axe you a question.

I could go on, but I might get angry at my monitor as I see all the evils in my life written for your ammusement.

Unless you’re a shut in, you know what it’s like outside. So why is it, in a sea of infinite subject matter, that we find ourselves drawn to talking about the weather? Yes, I’m aware that it’s hotter than a whore in church outside right now. Yes, a swim in the pool would surely be nice. No, I don’t care if you are uncomfortable.

You are not allowed to complain to me because:

1) I’m working

2) I don’t know you

3) If I do know you, I likley don’t care

4) I get to hear too many people vent their frustrations, yours will only increase the chances that I go postal.

If you think it’s too hot, go to a hose and pour water over your head. Or, god forbid, drink water. Complaining to me will only make me hotter.

Boobies.

TJ’s Place has been one of my favorite reads for a while. I linked him, and he’s been keeping up on my site too. This weekend he linked me, which gave me a butt load more hits in one day than I’d ever received. Thanks TJ. I now have a responsibility to keep the material here fresh. 🙂

If you are a first timer here, this is one of my favorite posts.

Everyone is welcome in The Loop. Thanks for stopping by.

I always seem to be working overtime. I’m not really, but it always feels like I am. Then this weekend I really felt like I was, but then again this weekend I actually was working overtime.

The store I work in had an offsite store open at a large event. We sold t-shirts, glow in the dark frisbees, hats, glowsticks, and stuff from the store. Sounds easy enough, right? Ha!!

The days leading up to what I’m going to refer to as “The Weekend From Hell,” or TWFH, were horrific in their own right. My manager and I had a schedule for what we were going to do to have TWFH run as smoothly as possible. This involved meals, tables for the store, merchandise, pricing, etc. The two days before the event, my manager’s husband started having problems with his kidneys that involve stones and a mass. The prior is understandable, though more painful than childbirth. The latter is a bit worrisome, as a removal of the mass or kidney altogether will be necessary.

I’m very sympathetic to his situation, and my manager’s as well. I don’t blame her or him in any way, and am very sad for them both. But in the end, this left me alone to get ready for TWFH, which made me quite frustrated.

The weekend went well after all. Got their Friday night, sold some stuff, woke up early Saturday and sold a butt load more. Got everything boxed up that night, and left.

For the record, so I don’t have to say it one more time, the glowsticks are $2 and they come with 3 feet of lanyard. Spinning 2 of these all raver like made selling them a breeze. It also reminded me that I need to get my poi gear.

I’ve linked this site on the left, but I don’t know that I’ve gone into any kind of real detail as to why this is the bomb. I feel that it is a moral obligation that I do so now, and I think the best way to start would be to introduce the two main guys.

Homestar Runner

With a lisp and no grasp for anything that is happening around him, Homestar is always good for a laugh.

Strong Bad

Easily the reason most people go to the site. His weekly emails will make you piss yourself laughing. He has a general contempt for anybody that is stupid, so Homestar is pretty much his archrvial, even if Homestar is completely unaware of this fact.

Their antics play out through over 100 emails, a dozen or so cartoons, and various other fun things.

I just got their CD, “Strong Bad Sings.” Hilarious shit.

Go laugh now before your village is burninated.

The Loop is…

There’s too many funnies to even start listing them.

The Pooks was working at a new age book store. It was a place she had wanted to work for some time, she loved shopping there, and she needed a job. Everything just lined up in a row. While there, she had met someone who she said would be “perfect for me.”

It has always been my experience that those people who are “perfect” for you typically share one or two similar interests with you, and have little else going on for them. If you’re lucky they might be okay looking. Most times they spend their time with you describing themselves to you. I hate that. Why don’t you just be yourself and let me figure out who you are. If you keep talking about who you are, you might was well just arrange it into a book for me to read so I can stop listening to you jabber.

Anyhow, I went every Saturday I could to visit the Pooks at the book store, as it was typically slow, and this mystery girl worked that night with her. 2 birds, one stone. We chatted a bit here and there, but I didn’t make any moves. See, the Pooks was under the impression that mystery girl was going to leave the country for 6 weeks, and would be leaving in 2 weeks or so. How lame would it be to go on 2 or 3 dates only to be apart for a month and a half? “Remember me?” Forget it. I was intent on waiting for her return before I did anything.

Valentine’s day rolls around, and I thought it would be a cute gesture to give her something for Valentine’s, as she likely wouldn’t have a Valentine, and neither would I. So I went to Ralph’s to pick out a bouquet. Their selection was mediocre at best. They did, however, have fake plastic roses that stood a bit over 3 feet tall. Perfect. Cute, romantic, and silly. Just like me.

I went to the shop, but to my dismay, she had traded shifts with someone, so she wasn’t even there. At the time I was working at Earthlink, who had me working at just about every other time I could possibly see her, so I wrote a note on the rose, and left it behind the counter and went out front to smoke a cigarette.

Like I said, this is a new age book store. Working there are several spiritual readers, or psychics, to the layman. The Pooks comes out and tells me that Ambika, one of the readers, says that I can not leave this rose for her. It absolutely has to be given to her in person. I went back in after my smoke, and waiting behind the counter was Ambika who told me that I was to give this to her in person. Typically Ambika has a very calm and happy demeanor. When she was telling me that I had to give this to her in person, she had a very serious look on her face, as if the safety of the space time continuum was at stake. Not wanting to bring about the end of the world, I said okay, though I didn’t know how I could possibly get it to her.

As things turned out, I got that following Monday off so that I could take my godmother’s kids to Disneyland. This made it possible to go to the book store Monday morning, when she would be there.

I got there a bit early, and very nervous. I walked a couple shops down to Starbucks for a frappuccino. I gulped down the liquid courage, otherwise known as caffeine, and went into the book store, holding the rose behind my back as best I could.

She was glowing. Her hair was braided into a pony tail. She was wearing a red shirt with jeans. I’m not very good at describing fashion, but I can see it perfectly in my mind’s eye. I gave her the rose, and she seemed very surprised. She also blushed. That’s a good sign.

We chatted a bit, I told her about Saturday night. She told me that she had taken the night off to have dinner with some friends for her birthday. It turned out that I had returned to find her on her birthday. I wished her a happy birthday, of course, and asked about her trip out of the country. It turns out that the Pooks was wrong. She wasn’t leaving for another month, and would only be gone for 27 days. This was much more promising. Flustered at the possibility that we could see each other, I asked her out on a date for that next Friday. She agreed.

We saw each other many times during that first month, called each other often while she was away, and have been together ever since.

She is my love, my life, and the best thing to ever happen in my life.

I love you Milca.

Another 3 day weekend come and gone. A much needed break after my manager was gone for a week, leaving the reins of the store in my hands. This weekend Milca was able to get Friday and Saturday off, so we spent the entirety of it together.

Friday was a day to run errands. After waking to the typical racket, we went to the bank, the post office, and to Would You Believe to get costumes for our trip to the renaissance Faire on Saturday.

Would You Believe is owned by some old family friends, who I also know through school. I always go there to rent my costumes because they have an EXCELLENT selection, they are uber friendly, and they hook me up. I never have to pay a deposit, and the cost for the rental is typically slashed in half, if not more.

Working friday was the youngest daughter, Sara, and her mom, Candy. Sara and I caught up on all the gossip and whatnot. With Milca there, she was able to listen in on all the old school dirt. I don’t keep anything from her, but being able to listen in on two peeps remembering the days of yore is a very educational experience. After getting the proper amout of info, and giving some as well, we then went on to Milca’s mom’s to feed the dogs, and clean the house up for her mom’s return from Argentina on Sunday.

That night we hung with the Pooks, the Nikki, and the Nikki’s man. It was some good times. Nikki’s man Sean (there’s too many spellings, this is the most common, and I’m likely wrong anyhow) is very quiet, but we had some good chatting. I did my typical commercial for Netflix, then after Nikki and Sean left the Pooks, Milca and I watched American Pop.

Saturday we geared up for the Faire bright and early. It looked like rain was upon us. When we got there, it was. We got to see some cool stuff, but the cold, rain, mud, and general blah-ness prompted us to leave early. We got return passes, so we can come back another day. I don’t think we’ll go in costume, but if we do, we’ll make our own. I really should have a Dread Pirate Roberts costume, or something like it, so I’ll piece that together. We got home and hung out with my brother Corey and his friend Michael for a bit.

Sunday we went to Milca’s mom’s and had a late lunch and welcomed her home. She brought Milca a new pair of shoes, which she needed. She also brought me a leather wallet. She didn’t know if I wanted one, neede one, or even liked wallets. I did, I did, and I do. My current wallet was falling apart and was flimsy. It was an eel skin wallet, so it had some cool character, but the skin had stretched and broke, so the eel skin was almost entirely gone. Those are my favorite presents. the ones that you need, and really want, ut just don’t get for yourself. It was much appreciated.

We left after having some good grub, picked up my brother Charles, and went to see Kill Bill vol. 2. My socks were rocked completely off. Rapture, indeed. If you haven’t seen vol 1, go see it now. Once you have seen it, getting you to want to see vol. 2 will not be a challenge at all, as the hook at the end of vol 1 will make you yearn for the next installment.

We got home, went to sleep, and so ended a 3 day weekend.

Boobies.