It’s a known fact that I’ve become an introvert. Why that happened is another story for another day. But the fact remains. Unless, I’m at work or grocery shopping. I really don’t interact with people. Except on Social Media. But I don’t really think that classifies as being outgoing. Well, I’m on a mini vacay as you all know. I’m not on an island sipping strawberry daiquiris, while some cabana boy fans me off with palm leaves. As I soak up the sun and turn the pages of a good book. PAUSE. First of all, you know I just wondered off into Never Never land. Because 1 I don’t lay out in the sun. Or wear bathing suits for that matter. The only realistic thing I said was that I was reading. But the above fantasy sounds much more fascinating. Then, I’ve been sitting on my ass for the last 7 days. I’ll take that back. Today, I’ve been productive. But I highly doubt shredding documents and organizing the filing cabinet would be someone’s idea of a wild time. But it could be worse. I could be out in the wilderness hunting for elk. A.K.A. not showering for days on end. And just staring out into the forest as you wait for your unwilling victim to walk by. Sorry hubby. I appreciate you trying to be all cave-man and provide for your “tribe”. But in reality I’m shouting, “Bambi Run there’s a crazy man waiting for you!” Of course, in all likely hood my husband is just probably going to shoot himself with the bow. Don’t worry baby you married a C.N.A. I’ll take care of you!

And once again. I have went so out into left field. I almost forgot where I was going with this story. Oh, that’s right. The mature Alexa. So, obviously I haven’t had much human contact in the past week. My only companions have been the 3 Stooges. Who rather lick their asses and eat dog shit. We obvioulsy picked the “unicorns” of the litter. Obviously, they don’t really talk back. And I guess I’ve just been missing a good old fashioned argument. I mean that’s what me and my husband do best. Don’t get me wrong. We love each other. But I promise you one thing. I will get the last word in. Even, as life is exhaling out of me.

I guess that would explain why I picked a fight with Alexa. She had been playing music for me. To get me through the “rather take a hot poker to my eyeballs” than sort through years worth of shit . That realistically should have been shredded a long time ago. But I’m a procrastinator. So, here we are. Well, I guess Miss Prissy Pants decided to cut me off if there’s no activity. WTF? Was I suppose to sing along so she knew I was enjoying her music. Or was I suppose to throw in compliments every once in a while. Like, “Great Job Alexa” or ” You pick the best songs ever!” First, of all I’m not that craved for attention that I’m gong to be a self esteem booster for my echo. Sorry! I might rethink that theory. Because in the middle of a good song it just goes silent. I’m like Alexa keep playing my music. And then she gets all snooty with me “I’m sorry about after a few hours of being inactive it shuts off”. Wow, when did we get all fancy, ALEXA? Fine, whatever just play some music. That’s when Alexa starts to cough up an attitude. “Sorry, I don’t understand what you want?” Oh, really? So, you want to play me like my Blue-Tooth in the jeep. And act like my speech problem is making it difficult for you to understand. Newsflash Alexa! I just have a hard time with S’s and Th’s. So, I know Music didn’t come out that foreign. That’s when I did what any mature 44 year old woman would do. I called her a Bitch! And her response was, “I’m sorry but I’d rather not respond to that.” Oh, way to take the high road Alexa! What are you afraid I’ll report you to Apple if you go all Jerry Springer on my Ass. I’m not afraid of you. I’ll I have to say is, “Bring it!”. I’ll unplug your ass faster than grease lightening. Don’t think I won’t. Okay, I won’t because my phone battery is almost ready to die. And I still need music to play. But if that wasn’t case you would already be unplugged. That’s right Alexa. Don’t fuck with the crazy lady who can’t even remember when she showered last(sniff armpits-okay it hasn’t been that long).

One might feel real proud of themselves for standing up against Alexa. But before l do anything crazy like get initiated into some gang. I decided maybe it’s a good thing I have to go to some class tomorrow. Because I go back to the grind of things next week. And I hope to god I have my people skills back by then. Because I don’t think me sniffing their assess is going to go over very well.

Photo Credit to Pinterest and Blingee

If you have followed my Facebook account for awhile you will know that Safeway and I have this love/hate relationship going on. I would have to say that a lot of my embarrassing moments have happened there. From knocking out glass jars with my purse, having the bag with the tampons fall out in front of everyone, to not realize my back patch came off and was now sticking on the outside of my clothes. By the way, it looked like I had a damn Maxi Pad stuck on me. Yes, Safeway and I have a deep and long history.

But after tonight, I might have to venture elsewhere. At least, till people forget my face. You see tonight I had one mission. To get to the pharmacy and back out. One mission! I just wanted my damn prednisone so I could breathe again. Instead, I became a one man circus act. I should have known walking from the parking lot to the back of the store was going to do me in. But what was I suppose to do? Push Grandpa off his rascal or steal the kid’s scooter. I’m pretty sure either scenario would have brought up assault charges. And I don’t have the time for all that shit. Besides, orange is not my color!So, as they say, “Suck it up Buttercup”.

And Suck it up I did. Time I got to the counter I look like some kind of disgusting fish that just got thrown onto land. I’m gulping for air. And I mean an ugly fish!You know how some people are “ugly criers”.? Well, if there was such a thing as an “ugly asthma gasper” I would get the title and the sash and crown to go with it. If that wasn’t bad enough. When, you feel like you are not getting no air in. You start to panic. Hello! The pharmacy already knows I’m on shit for depression and anxiety. But I don’t think it’s necessary for me to demonstrate why I’m on the shit. So, not only am I gulping for air, breathing like I just ran the damn New York Marathon, I’m trying to keep myself from having a damn panic attack. And I don’t have time for all that kind of attention!

Of course, this would be the night that my favorite pharmacy tech wants to talk. Not really talk. More like tell me good-bye. She’s moving. And on any other day I would want to say good-bye and chat it up. But by this point I’m wondering if it’s possible to pass out? And all I can think about is why I can’t do that. The reasoning is a little off. And had nothing to do with me hurting myself. I was just really concerned about my 180 pound ass damaging their new floors. I mean they just did a beautiful remodel in the store. I didn’t want my ass to leave a crater mark. I mean it was a legit concern for my oxygen deprived brain at the time. Leave me alone!

If that wasn’t bad enough. When, I attempted to talk I sounded like a woman in labor, when she’s yelling at her husband to “Get(breath)The(breath)Fuck(breath)Out(breath)Of(breath)the(breath)Room(breath)!” I think you get the point. And on a mission not to draw too much attention(well, besides the panting) to myself that pretty much gave me away. And her concern was heard by her co-workers. Which in return had all eyes on me. All that was missing was the spotlight and announcement over the PA system.

One would think that after I got my drugs I would have high tailed it out of there. But no. My brain is possessed by my fat ass. So, it didn’t matter if I couldn’t breathe. My brain was telling me I needed some Pecan Pie. I mean I already can’t breathe. So, really at this point I have nothing to loose. If I’m going down. It’s going to be with some damn Pecan Pie!. Besides the bakery and frozen food aisle were by the pharmacy. It was like a sign!

Alas, my luck sucks. And after walking the bakery aisle and frozen food aisle there was no damn Pecan Pie! At this point, a smart person would have said “Fuck it! I’m going home!” Or at least got out their damn rescue inhaler. But obviously, I’d rather make more of a scene of sucking in air than using that in front of people. And I was not leaving that store empty handed! I don’t care if they had to carry me out on a stretcher. I was going to get some kind of damn pie. It’s called priorities people. They might be fucked up ones. But they are still priorities. I realize how pathetic I looked. And I probably sounded like some kind of porn star doing aerobics. And I do apologize to all the kids I traumatized tonight. But you know what. I got my damn pie. Got back to the jeep so I could suck on that rescue inhaler like my life depended on it. But I made it! I might not be able to go back to that Safeway for awhile. But that apple pie was worth it!

*photo credit to SpongeBob and Nickelodeon

I haven’t had time to really blog. But luckily, FB was my blog for many years. And it pops up new memories every day. Reminding me that I’m still a dumbass.

Well, I can’t sleep. And since I have to switch back to my night schedule tomorrow. I guess I’ll share one more story with you all. This story takes place where all of my great adventures take place. Safeway off course. So, ya. It was time for my weekly visit. Not from Aunt Flo you morons! It was time for me to step up and be the hunter in the family. God, knows my hubby has yet to bring an elk home from his hunting adventures(JK honey. I have a good feeling about this year. I’m sure you will provide for us. If not, at least Safeway is just down the road). So, today I decided I was going to be one of those extreme couponers(my spell check says this is not a word. But I worked retail for a year. And I have to disagree). You know the ones that practically pay nothing for those 500 containers of tic- tacs. Because you know you can never have enough of those things. Yes, I’m being sarcastic. But I won’t lie. I give props to the dedicated ones. Because that is some hard work. First, you got to go through all those damn coupons. Then, cut those bad boys out(good thing I graduated to big girl scissors. Or that could have taken all day). Then, you match the coupons to the store ads. So, you can get maximum savings. My grocery list looked like a game plan for a football game. I circled the items that I had coupons for. I wanted to make sure that the coupon helped make the item cheaper than generic brands. If not, we were going EL Cheapo and chucking out my cut around the line project. Seems easy right? Ya, implementing that plan might have been a little tricky. At one point I was trying to hold 6 yogurts and examine the coupon(yes, I was looking at the damn picture. I needed to make sure I could mix and match). Ya, that didn’t fair out too well. Of course, I would drop one. And how come every time I’m there, I see employees everywhere. But when I make a mess in aisle 1 do you think I can find one damn worker? Hell no! So, then I’m put in a moral dilemma. I have nothing to clean it up with. I’m on a time schedule. And I’m seriously thinking about taking off so no one knows I’m the idiot that tried juggling yogurt. But that plan easily ended when some old lady and another lady with a prosthetic leg start approaching the mess. Damn it all to hell. Why is my life some fucking Hollywood script. So, of course I have to yell at the ladies to stay back. I know a little dramatic. You would think there was some kind of chemical spill. But come on. She was old! How did I know she had perfect hearing. Then, I hunted down an employee and like a man on death row. I gave them my confession. Then, I offered to clean it up. But he vetoed that idea. So, not only am I making messes. I’m taking forever comparing prices and figuring out the price after the coupon. Math genius I am not. The possibility of my daughter never getting picked up from school is becoming a very possible reality. I finally make it to check out. I even laid my coupons on the counter before he started ringing. Because I was a cashier. I remember how much I hate people like the one I was posing as today. So, of course a few coupons aren’t working. One was buy 2 get one free. Well, you need the price to write in. “I don’t know the price. It might take me awhile to figure that out.” And then he looks at me. Like he actually thought I would say, “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll just pay for all 3”. I don’t think so buddy. If I went through all this damn trouble trying to save a buck or two. You are so taking this coupon. I don’t care if it takes you all day. My next coupon. was $3 off any Quantum razor (one count or higher). Well, I got the 4 pack. That should qualify for the one razor or more . But it wouldn’t scan. “Well, this one isn’t matching up. You got the wrong one.” Seriously dude? I can read. And I know from personal experience as a cashier that there were times where I had to key in the coupon. But I guess I’m a traitor to the cashier world. So, this jackass was not sharing any love. Wouldn’t budge an inch. Now, I could have dug for the damn razors to show him. But I looked at the line behind me. And my cart. And for once my damn bags weren’t formed into a pyramid. Holy shit! That never happens. So, I took one for the team(the 4 other customers waiting patiently behind me) and lost out on that $3. But don’t fret. I will be back. No stupid scanner is going to screw me out of $3. That’s like 3 candy bars. And just when you thought this story was over. I suddenly become an informcommercial.” But wait! If you keep reading you will get 2 stories for the price of one”! So, my driving might be labeled as a little erratic. Meaning shit flies in my car. I get home. And I know to never just bust open my trunk. So, I carefully opened it. Like that helped. The great deal on soda( 4 12 packs for $10). Not so great when you drop 2 of them. The huge bag of potatoes. Not so great. When, they magically come undone. And you find yourself playing hot potato in the driveway. Had to throw a couple away. I learned a valuable lesson. I was not meant to do the coupon thing. I still went over my grocery budget. Dropped some of the savings on the driveway. And I became that “asshole’ that held up the line. So, I would just like to conclude my adventure with one simple request. Powerball Gods please read this story. And let me win. I really need my own personal shopper.

Photo credit it Pinterest

DUMBASS OF THE NIGHT:

I decided that after every shift I work. I am going to post the highlight of my night. I want it to be documented. So, it will come to no surprise when I officially loose my mother fucking mind. So, tonight’s winner is the woman who should purchase hooked on phonics before she decides to school me on how to read a sale tag.

First of all, I have these 2 charming ladies(note the sarcasm). Now, as I’m checking out the first one. The second one is opening up the package of pull ups and examining them. First of all lady. I don’t know where you come from. But you don’t just start ripping open packages to examine the merchandise. Most people pay for the shit first. But since you are special and I’ve already had my fill of dumbasses for the night. I will be willing to let that slide. So, why I check out your friend. I have to listen to you bitch about how these aren’t going to fit your precious’s sons ass. How are these possibly a small? I’m sorry did I miss the part where your son is doing the photo shoot with them on? Because who the hell cares what they look like. Or how they are going to fit. These look like briefs but are pull ups. For just in case he forgets to get up and use the bathroom. If he still pisses during the night maybe you should consider a package of damn diapers. But what do I know. I’m only the stupid cashier.

So, eventually it’s this wonderful lady’s turn to check out. So, I scan her items and tell her the total. “Oh, you charged me wrong”. Is she blind? Did I manually type in all these prices. No, I scanned them. And the prices are determined by corporate. Not by the peon worker. Trust me if I determined the prices. Your nasty attitude would be paying double. So, I go into friendly customer service mode(inside I’m seething). “I’m sorry what didn’t ring up right?” “The pull ups!”(duh what the hell was I thinking. I should have just known that. I don’t know why that would have been so heard for me to know. It’s not like all that other shit counted) They are suppose to be buy 1 get 1 free!” I look at my monitor. It shows up buy one get one half off. I turn the monitor so she can see it. Well, that was a wrong move. “oh, no! It was right there on the sale sign buy one get one free”. So, I politely look in the ad. Because maybe it’s tomorrow’s ad. But still don’t find it. “I read your sale tag! Come on. I’m going to show you so you can fix it”. Sure let me just leave my register. Screw the other customers. So, she starts walking off. So, I follow that lady. I’ve learned that there’s no point in reasoning with these people. So, I get over there. And she’s starts pointing to the sign “Now tell me what it says?” I look at the sign. Up top there is small print that says buy one get one. Then, right under that( in very large print I might add) it says 50% off. So, I share that with her. She looks at me like I’m stupid. Then, points to the sticker again….”Buy one get one”. Yes, but right under it. It says 50% off. NO! It says buy one get one. Lady get your damn eyes examined. It does say buy one get one. But read below that. Besides there’s no damn free anywhere on that damn tag. Her response:”That’s misleading. I didn’t even see that”. Are you serious? Are you fricking serious? That part is in huge letters. Were talking as big as the Hollywood sign. Someone kill me.

After, she huffs back to the register after her failed schooling to me. She proceeds to hand me the coupons out of the bag she ripped open before paying. Because for some reason I owed her. Really? It’s people like you, that make me think I should be able to claim alcohol as a work expense. Because after dealing with the geniuses of the world. I have to go home and drown myself in beer. And do you think she could at least apologize to the guy waiting behind her in line. Oh, hell no. The audacity of people is mind blowing!

I realize most of you probably don’t follow me on Social Media. So, until this moment you have been safe from my blubbering and carrying on like a wounded animal. Well, it looks like you luck has run out. Because I decided what better way to find peace then to blog about it. I’m sure that’s not what’s going to happen. In reality, there will be increased sales at the liquor stores. I mean I’m sure my rambling does that to everyone. I’m really amazed my husband hasn’t turned into an alcoholic to quiet my constant “going on and on”. But we will approach that subject another day. So, be on the look out for “How I keep sane. One’s man survival being hitched to a lunatic”.

So, what haves me in such anguish you might ask.?Well, my youngest has decided to really leave the “nest” this time. She did a year in college and roomed with some coworkers before moving back. But those were just small flights. Meaning she stayed in the same state. If she called I had the capability to get to her fast. Now, this child of mine is in the process of driving to Rhode Island. Rhode Island people! That’s like 1.930.0 miles away. Not like I googled that like some kind of psycho. Okay, I totally did! It’s 31 hours away! How can I just show up and say, “I was in the neighborhood”?

Most of you are probably wondering what the hell the problem is? Most of you are probably still raising kids. And the thought of having your kids grown and a house to yourself probably sounds like heaven. Lord knows I dreamed about this moment while raising all our kids. But you know what? It’s a load of shit! Just because they turn 18 or move out on their own. Doesn’t mean your job is done. Bet you didn’t know that? Your still going to worry. And where you might bite your tongue occasionally(Really it’s all the the fucking time) to keep from giving your opinion. Because you realize they have to find themselves in this world. That you can’t carry them for the rest of their lives(If I didn’t have a bad back I would so be okay with dragging them). They have to do things on their own without you telling them “WTF are you thinking?” or “Did I drop you on your head? That’s the stupid thing I’ve ever heard!” Because all those statements will do is have your adult children resent you. And you might end up on a future Dr. Phil show. On a side note, it’s perfectly okay to think those thoughts silently in your head. Because with 5 grown adult kids there’s always a competition to see who can make me smack my head the most.

Now, most of you probably zeroed on my previous comment of being upset why I couldn’t just show up and say, “I was in the neighborhood”. You are probably thinking this is exactly why she is moving half away across the country. In reality, I’m not an “overbearing” parent. Contrary to the vibe I’m giving off. I promise(What? My fingers aren’t crossed). I just have had my mind corrupted by movies like Taken and the news with their sex trafficking stories. So, excuse me if I have a “few” anxiety problems. I mean in reality this isn’t my first rodeo with a child moving out of state. But my oldest daughter is married. To me she at least has a husband to protect her. My daughter has a couple of friends, a can of expired mace, and a taser(which I’m sure she has never used).

Yesterday morning I had like an anxiety attack. That kind where Samuel L. Jackson shows up and tells you to get in the “Ativan”. Because you are out of control. My daughter set up some app where I can track her. Hey, she put it on. So, technically I’m really not an overbearing mom with stalker tendencies. It’s kind of a nice thing. I got to see where she was. Not, that I checked every half hour. I refrained to doing it only once an hour. But when she was still in Deerfield Illinois last night and when I woke up that morning. I got a tad bit panicky. Supposedly, they were driving straight through. Now, in the back of my mind I know they wanted to check out Chicago. So, they probably stayed in a hotel. But when the text I sent her the night before and the one in the morning went unanswered. I started to think all kinds of crazy shit. But determined not to be one of those “moms” I refused to call. She’s only been gone a day. I don’t want her to block my phone number the first week. I rationalized that I would wait till noon. Then, I was going to call my cousin, Highway Patrol, and Homeland Security. Why Homeland I have no idea? But it sounded like they might want to help. Until, that time I was going to channel my nervous energy into something else. Meaning cleaning the fuck out of the house and reorganizing my library. Before I started to offer to clean the neighbor’s houses.My daughter texted me. And just like that I could breathe again.

Rhode Isand isn’t even her first stop. She has a job lined up until October. Then, she’s heading to New Jersey to figure out where life takes her next. It’s like the movie “Mermaid” where Cher just closes her eyes and points to the next place they are moving to. In all honesty, I really loved that part of the movie. And have always wanted to do that. So, in a way I’m happy my daughter is doing things I never finished. But that doesn’t mean it makes it any easier. I mean throwing invisible darts at a map is not helping. I need plans, itineraries, and background checks on everyone you are around. After that I might be okay with you acting like you are the star on, “Where in the World is Carmen SanDiego?”.

Most of you are probably collecting money to buy me lots of liquor. So, hopefully I will chill the fuck out and stay off my blog. It might help. I like vodka in case you were wondering. I realize it’s going to be an adjustment. And eventually I will realize she’s not 2 years old anymore.That she is an intelligent 20 year old woman who is just trying to leave her mark on this world. While she discovers who she is. Mentally I’m all for that. But my heart feels like Miley Cyrus just came crashing into it with a wrecking ball. In time, I ‘m sure acceptance will bring comfort. I mean I’m sure all parents have gone through this. If they have survived. I’m sure I will too. In the meantime, does anyone want to join my support group of “Overbearing parents that are in denial that they are overbearing”? My husband is out. Because our oldest daughter and grandkids go back to Texas in a week. He says, “August 1st we are having a party. This will be the first time we have no kids at home”! It amazes me how he says that with such a huge smile. The only other times I see him this happy is when he’s leaving for a week to go hunting. I wouldn’t be surprised if he already bought new locks for the front door. And if he hasn’t, I just gave him the idea.

***I “borrowed” this pic from pin interest. So, I have no idea who to give credit to. So, I’ll just give it to Samuel L. Jackson. Seeing this is his face and all.***

This is for one of my FB posts 2 years ago. Probably explains why I don’t fly much!

Awkward airport moment brought to you by stupidity and winter clothes. So, it’s hotter than hell out here. But I don’t wear shorts or tank tops. So, basically I look like I’ve been hanging out in a sweat lodge. We get to the security checkout and I literally look like one of those contestants in the Biggest Loser. My face is beat red. Sweat is just pouring off me. You would have thought I ran a marathon in 115 degree weather. But no ppl. I just rolled my suitcase in from the parking garage. So, I feel my blouse just sticking to me. But I’m not worried because I have this sleeveless sweater vest on. It’s camouflaging my sweat marks. Well, it was until the security lady made me take it off because it would slow down the process. I guess fringe is something all terrorist wear. So, there I am standing in the X-ray machine with my hands up showing everyone my sweaty armpits and back. Thank you TSA. That potential security threat of a fringed sleeveless vest was avoided. And another thing…Why is there no fracking ac at this place. We can’t board for another hour. So, I am feeling real bad for the other person that has to sit next to me on the plane.

Over a month ago ,I decided that it was time to part from what little items I had left from my Ebay store. I also decided to clean “house” and get rid of furniture or items we don’t use anymore. Every so often I go on these kicks. Compliments of the show “Hoarders”. Do you want to know what purgatory would be for me? Well, besides being blind and not being able to read. It would be living in a house full of junk! Now, Billy(my husband) if you are reading this I already know what you are thinking. And all I got to say is, “Shut your trap! My decorations and books do not fall in this category!”. Now, where was I. Oh, yes I decided to get rid of shit. And to make some money off it in the process. It seemed like a solid plan. Take pictures and post pics on different selling sites. And boom! I have more money to buy more “junk”.

Well, like most plans I have. This one is making me ready to drive these items to the nearest Goodwill and say screw it. Why you might ask? Because selling these things for the last month has reminded me why I stopped selling on Ebay. Like I can’t even deal with some of the questions people ask me. If the Facebook Marketplace has a “Are you fucking kidding me?” button as a option. I would be hitting that answer like a contestant on a game show. And I don’t know why this surprises me. Because I have a long history of dealing with buyers. Let me take you on a journey back through time ,as we go through the years of me being a seller.

First. lets begin in the Garage Sale days. Because I wasn’t familiar with Ebay yet .Back in those days I use to buy storage units. So, I needed to get that shit sold fast. Garage sales seemed like the easiest way to do it. Until, I found out you were only able to do so many a year. Now, you have 2 kind of people that come to garage sales. The kind that look and pay for the price on the sticker(I fall in that category) and the ones that want to haggle you to death. What does that mean exactly? Basically, it’s like nagging. But done in a way to make the seller loose her ( I am the “her” in this story)ever fucking mind . So much,that she wants to drop the item in question onto the concrete. Stomp on said item. Then, take lighter fluid to it and light a match. And while it burns look at the buyer and say, “I’m sorry that item is already sold” as I smile at them manically. As you can see, I probably need to do a future garage sale to pay for my anger management classes. Since dealing with people face to face wasn’t panning out. I decided to do EBAY.

Now, EBAY seemed like a safer way for me to roll my eyes at people without them seeing. Or have me smacking my head against a wall while chanting, “People can’t possibly be this stupid!” The answer to that question is YES.!And anyone that has worked in any form of retail can attest to that. Selling wasn’t the hard part. Answering questions that ranged from the dimensions of a domino(guess that was crucial into their decision making), to asking if I or someone in the house could model the bikini( I should have tried squeezing into that tiny thing and scaring the shit out of that perv), or can I get this item to them by Christmas and it’s Christmas Eve(Don’t I look like Fucking Santa Claus to you?)and countless other questions that I have chosen to blank out of my mind. To dealing with the few complaints I had received. My favorites were the ones who obviously did not read my descriptions of the item. I always put measurements in on my clothes. To save people the trouble of returning something. I remember one time I sent this sweater that was actually quite big but was a kids XL. All the measurements were in the listing. But of course, some buyer went off in the deep end about how it didn’t fit their poor daughter. And her daughter was so upset. All I could think is your fucking daughter Sasquatch? But whatever. Refunded the broad but really wanted to tell her to buy her a daughter a tent! Yes, I learned that dealing with people in a sales way wasn’t my thing. It was hard to give up my business. Because I had invested so much time into it. But my husband wanted his basement back. And really I was so over people!

But like all things I do in life. I like to repeat my mistakes. Recently, I decided to clean house and list stuff on craigslist, Fb marketplace, and let it go. Because obviously I’m a sucker for pain(that pain is in my head from yelling at my phone).The first couple of days my shit was up. I mean my valuable items. I had reliable buyers who actually contacted me and showed up to get the items. But since then I have been getting the people who make me want to drink. I’m like why am I getting stuck dealing with them. The lady who was supposedly”interested” in my brand new cat scratch post asked me to call her. 30 minutes later and knowing the history of her cats., grandkids, and kids. She tells me she doesn’t think she can afford it. But she’ll call me back if she changes her mind. All I could think was that I was going to have to change my number after 15 years.

My favorite thing to do lately is wasting my time responding to messages people send me. Because I obviously have no life and need no sleep. Why do people ask you if an item is still available. And when you answer back they decide they weren’t interested. Like is this some kind of game? If it is, I didn’t get no rules. And it seems like my nemesis from my garage sale days are back in full force over the internet. That’s right people! The hagglers didn’t die. They just multiplied! But the best part is I drop the prices for them. Then, they want me to drive to where they are. Are you fucking kidding me? I know this is the day and age of getting everything delivered to you. But why the hell do you think I want to meet you for $5? It will cost me more in gas. I would never dream of asking someone to do that. If someone is selling something,I think its safe to assume you are going to their house or a place they choose to get the item. And people you would not believe how often that has been happening. I’m sorry but it’s not my problem if you don’t have a ride. Now, if this was a life or death situation. And I was selling the only food left to mankind. Maybe, I would be more compassionate. But if its a damn collector beanie baby. I’m thinking you don’t need it to survive. So, either find a ride or go without.

Most of you are probably reading this and thinking how the hell do I work with people. Well, I’m actually good at my job. But after those 3 12 hour shifts my compassion has left the building. And my super Bitch flag is flying. So, if you are contacting me about items I’m selling you better be serious and packing money and transportation. Because I am not running no damn charity. This broke bitch is trying to make a little side money. Now, I wanted that money to go to whatever. Not to my future visits to the shrink. So, keep a sister sane. And stop asking me to drive to you. Do you ask your drug dealers to meet you? And if you tell me you are coming over. And make me waste my time waiting on you. At least, have common courtesy to say you can’t make it. Because despite what you might think. I don’t have a crystal ball. Nor am I psychic. Thank you. And Goodwill I think next week will be your lucky week. Because if I wanted to deal with this many clowns. I would have joined the damn circus.

*Since I don’t own photo credit for this picture. Better give credit to Jerry Maguire!

A couple of weeks ago me and another person were sharing humiliating stories(you know who you are. LOL). And this was one I shared. And today it popped up in my FB memories. I saw it as a sign to share my humiliation with my readers. Why not! It might save someone’s ass cheeks from going raw. Your welcome!

I really hate when my husband is right. I bought these new diet pills. One of my customer’s swears by them. Says she lost 10 pounds in like 1 or 2 weeks. And seeing that I’ve gained 30 pounds since I quit smoking. I’m game for anything. Well, my know it all husband is like, “Why you wasting money on that shit? If people could just take a pill to loose weight. No one would be fat. You just need to exercise.” As he went on and on. So, I did the mature thing. I rolled my eyes and just popped the magic pills in my mouth. Waited the half hour and then ate like it said to do. The only warning I saw on the box was to drink plenty of fluid when taking the pill. So, it don’t get stuck. Whatever. So, I’m on the mission to find the skinny me. Go to work. Come home for lunch. I am mentally picturing fitting in my clothes again. And then the unthinkable happens. First it just starts out as a rumble. I’m thinking god I can’t be hungry. Then, it starts to turn into “Jesus Christ I think Rosemary’s baby is growing in me”. As the spawn of Satan turns my stomach into turmoil. I realize I’m stuck at the damn register and I’m trying to check customers out. But at the same time I’m stressing out that any minute I’m going to vomit or fed ex a wet fart. So, I finally had to have a co-worker man the fort. Figured I wasn’t taken any chances. And at least she was a chick. She understood the whole “code brown” thing. But then she left. I was left my other 2 co-workers. Had to call them up to the front a few times so I could do the run of shame to the bathroom. By this point I just want to go home and die. I’m thinking I’m okay with being a fat hefter. Just make my stomach stop hurting. I’m seriously debating if I need to purchase depends for the ride home(don’t worry. no underwear was harmed on this journey) Time I get home I can’t figure out what the hell is wrong with me. Being the genius I am. I decide to do some research on this little wonder pill. Oh, ya. I guess they forgot to mention that this pill expands(okay not quite the word but sue me for not remembering what I read. I was busy running back and forth to the bathroom you know) so it makes you feel full. The only thing is if you overeat it will make you sick. Thank you internet for that tidbit. Wish I researched that before. Because nothing like having your stomach torn apart at work. So, the moral of the story is. 1) occasionally your husband might be right. 2)you have to put in the work if you want to loose weight(meaning there’s no magic pill 3) And never. I repeat NEVER start some new kind of weight loss plan when you have to work. Unless, You want to the code brown dash all night.

Got photo from GIPHY/ movie Bridesmaids

I feel before I set off on my rant. It’s only fair I warn you. You see my friends, I am in rare form tonight. I usually only share my light-hearted side. But today I will show you my “dark side”(insert evil music now). You see I have been frustrated for sometime now. Then, having someone else share these same problems. I decided why the fuck not blog about it. Maybe, someone will read this. And realize he is one of the schmucks I’m talking about. And they will see the light and change their ways. One can hope right?

I love being active on Instagram and Facebook. If you follow me on Instagram you will realize that most of my posts are pictures of books. Books people! That is not code word for my body. My hobby consists of taking pictures of books I’ve read and as my husband says, “playing dress up with them”. Then, writing a small review. Now, if you are not a booknerd. You will not understand. But just go with it! So, you can imagine my surprise when I get messaged from single guys looking to mingle. Like “What the Fuck dude”! How do you get I’m looking for a man by looking at pictures of my books. Like, I am totally dumbfounded by this. How does reading translate to “looking for a man”? Am I that old and out of the game. That I didn’t realize doing those kind of posts is really a signal that I am lonely? Can someone explain this to me?

Now, here comes the fun apart. I am about to rip these losers a new one. And yes they are losers. Because who uses Social Media sites as a way to pick up women? There are sites for these kind of things. Harmony, Christian Mingle, Match.Com, and Tinder. Any of these ring a bell? Hell, there’s even a fucking FarmersOnly.com. I think they have everyone’s preferences covered. So, why do you men bug us on our happy places. Oh, I know! It’s because you are a broke ass ,lives in your mother’s basement kind of guy. That can’t afford the fees to join one of these sites.

Now, my IG account is my booknerd haven. And I realize it doesn’t have the same about me section like Facebook. So, the “I’m married back the fuck off” option isn’t there. But generally when I get a message it’s book related. But occasionally I get stupid shit like, “Hey, sexy” “Hey, beautiful”, and etc. First of all does this shit actually work? Have you ever had someone respond back to you? If so, you guys sound like a match made in heaven!

This is the latest message I got from a guy. It was really 4 messages sent on the same day(can we say, “desperate”). We will use this to educate all you single men out there why this technique is STUPID! 1-“Hello pretty can we be friends Please. ” What I am thinking, “Make believe friends like your dating life?” 2-“Hello Mam” What I am thinking, “Mam? Really dude? I’m not looking to be your cougar!” 3-“How are you doing today” What I am thinking, “I would be doing better if you remembered to use punctuation and stop messaging the hell out of me! ” 4-“Hello” What I am thinking, “And right there my friend is why you are fucking single! You are sending stalker vibes. Who the hell sends this many messages in a few hours time frame. Take the hint! Unless, you are the newest YA fiction book. I’m not interested! Because some other poor man already claimed me. And even though he might be happy to get rid of me. It ain’t happening!!!”

Now, this is the shit I deal with on Instagram. Don’t get me started on Facebook. It’s like every nursing home in the country taught their elderly men residents how to use Facebook. I can’t believe the old men who contact me on that! Somehow my profile picture is a beacon to the geriatric population. I know I complain about being old. But like there is old and then there is Fucking Old. So, if any of you are in charge of nursing home activities, can you direct them to Seniors.com. and not Facebook. And if they are still persistent to be on Facebook. Remind them to put on their damn bifocals. My relationship status is listed as married. And not looking for a sugar daddy.

Now, I use Facebook to share funny memes and stories. And IG for my passion for reading. And I’m sure everyone has their own reasons for being on it. But no one I know uses it as a dating service. So, for those of you who are guilty of this. Please take my public service announcement to heart. Get a profile set up on a dating site or buy a damn blow up doll! But stop messaging poor woman who just want to do their thing without being uncomfortable about you cyber flirting!