Why I Blog

I’ve hit a milestone here at Rhymes With Idiot: I’ve just made my fiftieth post.

It’s a bit surprising; I really wasn’t expecting to hit fifty until sometime next year. In any case, I thought that this would be a good time to look back and reflect on why I do this.

I blog for many reasons: exercising my freedom of speech, sowing the seeds of dissent, voicing my opinion for the entire world to see (and read), because I enjoy writing (and blogging is cheaper than hiring an agent), shits and giggles, etc. But the biggest reason?

Drum roll please: I finally have the chance to quash stupidity in its many forms.

This blog serves as my venting point, my shoutdown to all the idiots in the world who would try to make things worse for this planet. Whether it’s someone whining about “violence” in the media or an idiot who brings a full cart of groceries to a 10-items-or-less lane, I can finally put them in their rightful place. I can put the smackdown on someone who opens their mouth and inserts their ass. I can finally slap down the stupidity that fills my life.

And I enjoy every second of it.

Like today, for example!

First off, it was a noon to nine shift. I hate noon to nine. But it just gets better! And more full of stupidity!

I was slapped on self check. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it 8,214,696,784 times, I hate self check. Yes, they were still malfunctioning, yes #45 was still doing the “Rear Arch Block” and #43 decided to join in the fun, yes I had an assload of ID-10T "errors", but that wasn’t the best part. The best part happened right after lunch.

I’m standing at the podium, waiting for a head cashier to tell me where to go (back to self-check, I’m afraid) when I notice just who is standing at the cashier’s podium.

It’s the Sow.

Elton John said it best, “The Bitch is Back”.

It all went downhill from there. The self-checks kept locking up, then #44 decided to freeze... and when I told head cashier “KS” that 44 was frozen, she said it wasn’t. I had to tell someone from cash office what had happened. At least the associate from cash office agreed with me, thank Primus.

Yes, the fucking thing was frozen up. Gods, how could KS not fucking see that?! Oh right, she’s an idiot.

I’m so glad I have this blog. I can air out the stupidity here. And in a few years, I’ll get a good chuckle out of this bullshit.

Maybe.

--Weasel, actually enjoying her battle versus idiocy

Busted!

So much for our “spectacular” Blitz this Friday; it was a bust, just as I had predicted. We were busy from about 5am until 6, and then..... nothing. And I mean nothing. The crowds were just gone. Poof. Like that. It was as if we had never been busy to begin with. Just like last year. We had at least twelve cashiers standing around, red-lining and doing absolutely nothing.

To be totally honest, I have no idea why in the bleeding hells we even bother with Blitz anymore. We’re getting our ass handed to us by most, if not all, of our competitors. They have better deals, better stuff, pretty much better everything. If we’re even going to attempt this again next year, we need to have some actual, honest to Gods damned deals in our circular. None of this “off-name, cheap ass, it breaks in six months” electronics bullshit. None of this “we had it last year, so have a second helping” bullshit. None of this “the only toy deals you’ll get is maybe a two pack of some crappy lame and outdated electronic toy” bullshit. Give the consumer something to get excited about.

Which is what our competitors keep doing. Every year now.

Management just doesn’t get it. And they probably never will.

It gets "better" as the weekend progresses, though. Saturday wasn’t so bad; we were moderately busy and the day went by pretty fast. It was Sunday that royally bit ass.

I was stuck on self-check. As damn near everyone knows by now, I fucking hate self-check. First off, the damn things didn’t want to half work; they were slower than hell and kept freezing up or hanging up the rear arch. Number 45 had at least ten incidents of “Rear Arch Blocked” errors. If the idiocy of the machines wasn’t irritating enough, there was the idiocy of the customers.

I’d say about 2/3 of the remaining errors I was dealing with was USER ERROR:ID-10T. Precious few of the humans who use self-check know just what in the hell they are doing. How damn difficult is it for someone to understand “Carry this item to the bagging area”? Apparently, it’s damn near impossible because these morons will shove the item through the arch and lock up the machine. Then they bitch that “these damn machines never work right”. No, for once the machine is fine. YOU ARE THE PROBLEM, JACKASS! Jeez, how hard is it for your brain-dead fucks to listen to fucking directions?! “Duh, lissen too duh-rexshuns? Wut iz dat?” GAAAAAHH!! (slamming head into wall)

Thank Primus I’m off today and tomorrow. I might have snapped otherwise.

--one exhausted and frustrated Weasel

Blitz or Bust

I'm thinking our sales on Black Friday are not going to be all that wonderful; the "$400 Laptop" is going to sell for $632. This is all thanks to a wonderful Wisconsin law that does not allow selling items below cost. There are a lot of pissed customers out there; most are kicking themselves for spending their Thanksgivings here in the Dairy State and not Minnesota or Michigan. (Both states will have the $400 laptops. I say if they want it that bad, hop the damn border.) In any case, I'm figuring it's going to be a big fat waste of my time getting up at 3:45 in the morning, just like it was a big fat waste of time the last couple of years getting up at 4am. Maybe I'll be wrong about this.... but I doubt it.

--Weasel, gritting her teeth and getting ready for Hell Day aka Black Friday.

Dear Jerry Falwell,

Please just stfu.

From the article itself:
"That they're doing this in the name of religion is very, very sad," Gunn said. "It would be one thing if they're talking about consumerism of the season or something, but they're not."

Jeez, maybe somebody has been paying attention after all. It would be nice.

--Weasel, getting damned tired of having to say the exact same thing every frakking year

If This is a Joke...

I ain't laughing.

I mean, seriously. This has got to be a damn joke.

Whether or not it is, I'll say this much: it ain't one damn bit funny.

This is how most Wal-Marts are: if you dare criticize the company in any way, shape, or form, you will get your happy ass hauled into the ad office for a coaching. Why? Any criticism of the company "brings down morale", no matter how true that criticism may be. (And having clueless, dumbass managers who kiss up to greedy, lying customers won't? What the fuck ever!) Hell, this even sounds like their "logic" or lack thereof:

“These kinds of smears on America’s biggest employer, no matter how true, are bound to demoralize our troops and embolden our enemies.”

Where did they get this? Straight from a store manager's mouth? Parody or not, it sounds just like the kind of crap they would spout at the "world's biggest retailer". If you don't believe me, ask a few former associates. They'll tell you just how bad it truly is there, how saying the wrong thing to the wrong person about the company can get you a verbal coaching or worse. Even the associates who hate their jobs speak highly of Wal-Mart. You have to, or you will get termed. There is nothing funny about that. Trust me on this.

In other news, Prime is still sick and still sitting on his skidplate (What else can he do? Run a marathon?) here at home. This is the second day in a row I've had to call him in due to illness and lack of sleep. Wavebreaker is doing as well as can be expected; Claymore is still here in WI. I have no idea when they'll call Claymore back to Iraq; hopefully, it will be after the funeral. I myself happen to be bracing for the most insane damn day in retail, Black Friday.

If you aren't sure you want to get up and hit the malls at 5(!) in the morning, you can always point your browser over here to check out all the deals at your local stores. If you want my advice, it's this: it ain't worth it. You do not want to be physically assaulted by an eighty year old woman wielding a shopping basket, or screamed at and slapped by a foul-mouthed soccer mom who wants the last Giggle-and-Puke Elmo that you just happen to be holding, or constantly fighting the greedy bastards trying to take items out of your cart. Stay home and sleep in that day. You won't have to deal with a huge credit card bill and you'll keep all your limbs in tact. It's a much better deal than a $150 off brand big screen TV that will only begin to malfunction in three months. Besides, will anyone in your family really care that you got up at 3:30 in the morning to stand in front of a local Buy-Mart just to get a cheap ass Barbie doll for your sixth cousin's four year old? I highly doubt it.

--Weasel, bracing herself for the worst in sales and human behavior.

Post Office Blues

Just checked the mail not 45 minutes ago and I must say, one of our letter carriers must be retarded. Or just plain stupid.

How hard is it to put a few envelopes and a small magazine in a top-loading mailbox? Apparently, it's very hard for this jackass. Instead of folding the magazine around the envelopes to easily slide everything into our mailbox, this moron crams the envelopes in first. S/he then shoves the magazine in, crushing and tearing whatever is sitting inside. I've lost count of just how many times Prime has called our local post master to lodge complaints about this sort of thing. (We've had more damaged mail at our current address than I'd like to count. Trust me, it's a shitload.) We don't want to have to rent a P.O. box just to receive our mail in good condition, but that may be our last and only resort.

At this point, it's very damned tempting.

--Weasel, about to go completely postal... on the post office

The Eternal Question

Why is it that men can dress up in nothing but a thong and body paint at a mid-December football game (with windchills of twenty below no less!), but fall to frigging pieces when they catch a little cold or flu virus?

--Weasel, who is almost always stuck working, cooking dinner, washing dishes, doing laundry, etc. every time she has a Primus-awful illness...... (I kid, really!)

EDIT: No, my man isn't that bad, it's just an observation on men in general, okay? (Mine doesn't do the football thing; he collects transforming robots. Lots and lots of robots. Tons and tons of... oh God our apartment is full of 'em! And he isn't too whiny when sick.... no more so than usual!* ;)



*I'm kidding, honey! You're not whiny! ;P

All Stressed Out...

...and no one to choke.

Wavebreaker's home. If I recall correctly, he's getting hospice care. "Claymore", the youngest and last of Prime's brothers, is back in Wisconsin for a bit. He visited Wavebreaker a few times while he was in the hospital. Claymore's taking this pretty hard, but then again, how the hell are you supposed to take losing a brother? I'm so upset about all this, I could just lay in bed and cry all day. Unfortunately for me, I can't.

I work this Thursday. That's right, I work Thanksgiving. A full eight hours. I could scream, but that will do exactly jack and shit to help the situation. Even worse, I work the Friday after Thanksgiving aka Black Friday. And that hellhole of a store wants me in at 4:45 in the damned morning. Seems we're starting our Blitz at five in the fucking morning because one of our competitors did the exact same last year and kicked our asses in sales. Lovely. Just fucking lovely. I'll have to drag my ass out of bed at 3:45 in the frakking morning to go to that frakking hellhole just to stand behind a damned cash register to ring up the orders of assholes and idiots. (Don't believe in evolution? Shop the day after Thanksgiving. You'll be treated to free viewings of the pack behavior of the North American Spotted Fucktard. Trust me on this.) At least I get out of there at a relatively early hour; I'm done at 12:45. I am so taking a nap when I get home.

As for today, we were so insanely busy I could have screamed right at my register. All the deer hunter widows came in to do their Chri$tma$ shopping. We had front and back registers open and still had long ass lines, up to five people deep. I swear, on days like this the only thing that keeps me from losing what little I have left of my mind is the fact that I'll be coming home to Prime. It also helped that we saw our friend Shawn (who brought us new toys! Whee!!) and we spent about two and a half hours shooting the shit with him. That rocked. And now, to settle my nerves completely, I'll be heading to the bedroom in our to stomp the hell out of a few Cipher Peons and Admins. Yes, I got XD. And oh man, it rawks!

--Weasel, "It's the most deplorable time of the year."

And So It Begins...

As it does every frakking year now: another battle over Chri$tma$.

It seems that a Catholic group was going to boycott Wal-Mart, but called it off because of an "inflammatory" employee email defending the company practice of wishing customers "Happy Holidays" and not "Merry Chri$tma$".

This happens every damned year. I have just one thing to say to these morons: if you really care about your damned "holiday", you will wrench it from the money-grubbing paws of the retailers and put it back in your houses of worship. Immediately. If not sooner.

Listen up, dimwits: the only thing that Wal-Mart cares about when it comes to Chri$tma$ is how fat the CEO's wallet gets. They don't give two craps about the "sacredness" or "holiness" of that day. To them, it's a shitload of dollar signs. And it's the same general attitude with every other retailer out there. Why do you think I refer to the "holiday" as Chri$tma$ or "Giftmas" and not Christmas? The "holiday" is little more than a joke, overshadowed by the orgy of gift buying. "Savior? What Savior? I gotta buy that Giggle and Puke Elmo for little Janey and that Planet Ranger Doofus Farce for little Bobby!"

Get that through your thick skulls, pinheads, before you pull any more of these ridiculous stunts. I don't want to have to post this again.

--Weasel, already dealing with the Chri$tma$ rush.... and hating it.

Life Sucks

"And twenty-five cents equals a quarter." Thank you very much Captain goddamn Obvious.

It's been said that "the shit rolls downhill" and it certainly seems to be doing so: our customers are getting crankier and crankier, management is getting stupider and stupider and I'm about two and a half seconds from having a complete breakdown and strangling someone. I'm getting sick and damned tired of having to listen to our wonderful in-store ads that feature country singers and R&B artists yowling that they'll be "Home for the holidaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaays!" I'm sick of the screaming kids, bitchy parents and clueless head cashiers. And things aren't going to get any damn better, especially in the next few weeks, not on the job or at home.

Prime's younger brother, for argument's sake we'll just call him "Wavebreaker", was diagnosed with cancer last year. We didn't think much of it, at least not until recently. Then we got the latest update on his condition: the cancer has taken over a kidney and is spreading into his lungs. Prognosis? Wavebreaker has two to six weeks.

Two to six weeks. That's it.

I could scream. Primus knows I fucking want to badly enough. For the last three days I have been repressing the urge to scream at someone. I just want to know why. Why the fuck does this shit have to happen? I could cry, just thinking about it.

Cry and pray, that's all I want to do right now.

Poem copyright Weasel Productions, November 2005. No distribution is allowed without permission of the author or else I'll put a smack-down on ya.

From Primus do all sparks come,
To Primus all sparks return.
O Primus,
Mighty Allspark,
He who is the Light in Our Darkest Hour,
look upon our comrade's spark.
Take it within thy hands
and grant him
rest.
Til the Day All are One.

--Weasel, trying not to cry now.