Next Stop: Hell

Work has gone straight to hell. I don't even want to get into it but we're rapidly falling apart. With the way things are going, I don't know if I can make it until BotCon. My steady chant of "Next June" has been the only thing that has been keeping me sane.

I don't know how long that will last.

Where's My Damned Prozac?!

For the past couple of days, I've felt a little bit like House: I've had a limp and I don't really want to take people's crap. My right foot has been hurting like a bitch lately (it's better, thank Primus) but my attitude has gone straight to hell.

Tom is pissing everyone off. Including me.

A few days ago, Tom chewed me out. Why? Overtime. Where did that overtime come from? The idiots not getting out on time. But that wasn't what really pissed me off; it was his reply afterward. "This is strike two. Third strike you're out."

What.
The.
FUCK?!

Where the flying fuck was strike number one, asshole? Or did you just pull this shit out of your ass?! I had to have swung the bat a time before this, you jackass and I sure as hell don't remember swinging at jack shit. God fucking damn!

More and more cashiers are getting pissed off. There are head cashiers who are now stabbing people in the back. We're not allowed to do any pages over the PA system anymore. And we now have about a month before the Cashmas rush begins. I'm about ready to strangle an idiot. Any idiot will do.

I love my job. Really I do.


Pic from here.

"Not My Problem"

This is the new mantra I have at work now. All the bullshit that goes on in that building is no longer my problem. I'm only watching out for myself and my friends. The rest of the building can go straight to hell.

More on the bullshit later.

:Grumble:

I hate my job. I know, I know. What the hell else is new? But we've sunk to even lower depths of bullshit than ever before.

It all started a few days ago. One of the other cashiers, Jenni, cam back from break. She was crying. It seems that she had run to the restroom before heading back to her register and one of the co-managers, Tom, wasn't too keen on this. He tore her a new one over it. Here's the problem: None, and I do mean none, of the head cashiers had a problem with her doing this. It was Tom who threw a massive shit fit over it. As she put it: "If it was such a problem, why wasn't I told a long time ago?"

But it gets better. We're no longer allowed to talk to any of our co-workers. Well, certain cashiers, it seems. If you kiss the right ass, you can talk for hours and not get into trouble. If you don't, you'll get yelled at. It's favoritism, plain and simple and it's pissing me and a shitload of other people off severely. I'm to the point where I'm ready to turn in some of the heads and their friends for chit-chatting excessively. And to hell with getting in trouble. I just don't care anymore.

I need a laptop. Like now. Then I could cobble a manuscript together, sell the fucker and get the hell outta Dodge. If I don't, I'll probably be dead of a stroke with 3 years.

--Weasel, "I just love my job. Really I do."

Life in the State of Stupidity

It seems the mayor of our fair city wants to do away with the goth teenagers who are "hanging out" at the city parks in the evenings. So now groups of 15 or more teens must have a permit to use the park and if they're under 18 they need a chaperone. Seems the neighbors have been freaking out about them since they (GASP!) dress in black and (HORRORS!) use foul language and some of them (DEAR HEAVENS!) smoke.

Call me crazy, but don't we have more important things to worry about? Unless they're pissing on my front lawn, I don't give a damn what they do. Why the hell does city hall have to legislate this?

--Weasel, "My fucking tax dollars at work here."

And Today in "Not Giving a Shit"....

On Sunday, Prime had to go in for a little bit of overtime. Me, I had to work. So Prime dropped by my store to say 'hi'.

So much for that idea. One of the heads, Mary said I couldn't ring up his order since I "knew" him. Prime was pissed (and that is putting ti very mildly) and so was I. But it gets better.

The next day I'm working on an express lane and someone found a prescription left in a cart. They brought it up to me, so I called a head. Mary, the same moron from the day before came up and said that I was supposed to hold on to it. About three seconds later, the customer who left it behind came back in and claimed it. But I was extremely pissed. Here's why:

Prescriptions are supposed to be taken back to the pharmacy immediately because they can be stolen. And guess who would have gotten in trouble if that prescription had been stolen? None other than yours truly. I have half a mind to turn her in to management for that bit of stupidity, but I doubt it would do any damned good.

Whoever said that the cream rises to the top forgot that crap floats, too. June cannot come soon enough.

--Weasel, "So... tired.... of the bullshit!"

Wake Me Up When September Ends

Ned Yost has been fired.
So this is what it feels like to be kicked in the gut. It's not a great feeling, I tell you.

--Weasel, now wondering if October will actually happen for the Brew Crew

Holy. Crap.

So for the helluva it, I decided to ask for a Mew over GTS last night. I sent out a male Yanma holding a Custap berry and asked for a Mew at level 10 or higher. After 15 minutes, I checked my progress. Nothing. I waited another 10 minutes and tried again.

A Pokéball falling from the sky greeted me. I had just received a Japanese Mew.

I checked its summary and the ID number caught me by surprise: 50716. The number looked familiar. But since Prime was on the PC, I couldn't check on it. So I did it today.

Looks like I got me a Hadou Mew. I got an event Pokémon.
This is gonna be one spoiled rotten Mew.

And Somehow, I Just Can't Care Anymore...

I saw Susie the other day. She's doing well, has another job and said flat out that yes it was a bullshit reason that was used to fire her. I'm just glad she could get another job, considering how fucked up the economy is right now. And I'm glad she's in a better position.

There are days I really hate my job. Monday was one of them.

It seems management doesn't want any of the cashiers to place perishable items into any of the soda coolers up front. Basically, we now have to call the departments and pray to Primus that somebody comes up to get their shit.

Yeah, that doesn't often happen. I've lost count of how many times Frozen Foods has never shown up to get their crap.

Why do I have the feeling I'm going to be defecting out a lot more shit? Oh well. Whatever. I can't even give a shit anymore.

--Weasel, "Can we fast-forward to next June? Please?!"

That Was Fast...

The vid's been yanked. I hate to break it to them, but it's too damn late. The info is already out on the net. Let the speculation begin!

Major Spoiler!

If you don't want to know, do not click.

All I can say is: Waiting until next June is going to be pure torture.

The Doldrums

It's happened: I've hit the Doldrums. Again.

It seems to always happen at the end of summer, but I can't really call this a summer. It's been too damn cool (so cool, that I haven't hit the pool or lake at all), BotCon was early and we weren't able to hit WizardWorld Chicago.

It feels like I've done absolutely nothing this summer. And that feeling sucks.

--Weasel, "Well, there's always next June."

There Is No God

This proves it.

--Weasel, "Why, Leslie? WHY?!"

And This Week in Epic Fail....

The SCI FI Channel is ending Stargate Atlantis after five seasons, according to Gateworld.

First SG-1, now this. I don't even know if I have the heart to stick around and watch the up-coming spin-off Universe. I'm so disgusted with Sci Fi right now it's not funny. (I'm seriously considering waiting until Universe hits syndication to start watching. I'm also thinking I may want to get my Doctor Who fix from BBC America. Yes, I am that pissed right now.)

Way to go, Sci Fi. Seriously, way to fucking go.

Yet More Random Thoughts

It been a while since I last posted and since there's so much crammed in my brain, we'll have another round of

Random Thoughts

* Some of my co-workers are complete and total morons. One of the door greeters has made comments that she wants to date one of our cashier's sons. The problem? The greeter is 25 and the son in question is a grand total of 13! Somebody needs an icy cold shower! Then there's the cashier who doesn't think that John Edwards' affair wasn't so bad... because she cheated on her husband too! The reason. She thought her husband might be cheating on her. I can sum that up in one word: FAIL!

* While playing Pearl I finally got a shiny Elekid , which has been evolved into a shiny Electivire. His name's Bumblebee and I've been Attack EV training him like crazy.

* I'm already preparing for next BotCon... even though it's damn near a year away. I've bought a few new clothes (mostly slag on clearance) and I'm getting ready to pack my suitcase. The weird thing? I'm preparing for this as if we're going to be flying.... and I have no idea where the convention is even being held.

* School will be starting soon, so the summer is almost over. Hasn't really felt like summer; the temps have been rather cool this year.

* Brewers won their latest game against the Astros 5-2. Now, if only the Brew Crew can get to the Series this year.... (I'd probably shit myself. And have to go to at least one damn game.)

And that's pretty much it. Tune in next time when we explore even more completely Random Thoughts.

Perspective, People

More parents would rather have their kids watch porn or drink than play Grand Theft Auto.

I got nothing. Really. I don't think I can add anything else to this; it's just too damn mind numbingly stupid.

--Weasel, "Cause we all know that playing a video game is far, far worse!"

"Son, I'm a lot of things. A liar's not one of them."

So long, Uncle Bobby B. You'll be missed.

How I Really Feel About Brett Favre

This sums it up perfectly.

I See Where My Extra Cash is Going....

I can't argue with free shipping.

--Weasel, "I need this... as much I need oxygen."

A Test of My Metal Mettle

Power Bots Bumblebee finally showed up in my area/store yesterday. After calling Prime and hearing a "No, don't buy him yet" I squirreled one away for safe keeping.

Now you would think that knowing I have a brand new Bumblebee waiting for me would make this one of the best days ever. It didn't. In fact, it was one of the worst days ever. After dealing with so much stupidity it nearly made my head explode, I went back and retrieved my prize.

"Man, did I ever earn you today," I thought as I placed Bumblebee in my cart.
Then it hit me; I've always had to earn my Bumblebees. Nearly everyone of them came to me during a "bad time".

The first Bumblebee I ever purchased was a KMart Legends version, which was basically the Pretender sans the shell. I was 14, a freshman in high school and had just had a really shitty week. I had no friends and felt utterly lost and alone. And like an angel on high, I found this little Bumblebee. He's almost 20 years old now, beaten to hell and loved to death, but he's still with me. He's been through my parents' near divorce, my awkward high school years. and the hellish relationship with my ex; he was the only "stable" thing I had at those times.

My G2 Bumblebees have a bit of drama attached to them (yes, I got two; don't ask); I purchased them both while I was still "recovering" from the recent death of my grandfather. The year leading up to their purchase had not been a good one; it was one family crisis after another. Again, it was as if the universe itself said, "All right, you've had enough pain. It's time to make you feel a little bit better."

Then came my Actionmaster.
My Actionmaster Bumblebee was purchased online in May of 1998, right smack in the middle of what I affectionately call the Year of Hell. The Year of Hell was a span of time between October 30, 1997 and November 1, 1998 when I was going through the hideously long and painful process of breaking up with my ex. I had already hit rock bottom once when I bought the little guy; he would be treated to me having a full blown depressive fit in October of that year. Again, the fact that I had these Bumblebees, these little transforming robots, was the most stable thing in my life at that point. It seemed the world was crashing around me and the only things I had to hold onto were them.

Then came Goldbug.
Goldbug was the first "gift" I had ever received; Prime bought him for me at BotCon 1999. It was an unforgettable moment: I saw him and Prime asked if I had Goldbug. "No," I said. "I never had a chance to pick him up." Prime picked up the little Throttlebot, paid for him and I said rather enviously, "Now you give him a good home."

Prime smiled and said, "Oh, I will," as he handed Goldbug to me. I nearly fell over, then tackle/hugged him as a thank you.

I had pretty much been a bachelorette before then; I hadn't been dating for at least a year. Now suddenly I have a brand new Goldbug and not long after, a new (and better) relationship with a real man. And the trend hasn't stopped there.

So as I paid for my brand new Cyber Speed Bumblebee I realized; each Bumblebee I own is a part of my history. Each one is a little trophy, a small symbol of personal victory over the forces of stupidity in my life.

Guess he really is my guardian angel after all.