Please Be Rude to Me, Part Two.

First, can I just say how touched I am by all the kickass comments? Thanks for getting my back, y'all. I think the one that actually made me LOL was this from Carol:

I think I saw that booth at my local craft fair but it was selling hand painted saw blades. Or maybe airbrushed tee-shirts. I forget.

Mostly because we've actually done shows where painted saw blades were the big thing. I mean, really. I am in the wrong business.

Anyway, the rudeness did not stop that Sunday. On Monday it was followed up by some breathtakingly bad customer service, which I will tell you all about in a minute. First, I have to tell you about the show we did last Saturday. It was a small show that has the #1 benefit of being held the day before Mother's Day. This is awesome because it was all about tired husbands being railroaded into buying things. It was like performance art, watching these tired, overwrought moms get their due.

"LOOK, HONEY. THAT NECKLACE IS NICE. I REALLY LIKE THIS ONE TOO. WHICH ONE DO YOU LIKE BEST BECAUSE YOU WILL BE BUYING ONE FOR ME."

Ha, we did well. This show is local and held in the neighborhood where I grew up, more or less. You know what that means! Who did I run into?

1. my middle school art/gym teacher
2. my middle school English teacher (she's married to the art/gym teacher)
3. my junior year prom date (he introduced me to his wife that way! Dude. We were only ever just friends. It was a fun prom, unlike the one my senior year.)
4. a very cool woman I used to work with at The Byrd. (We were flapper popcorn girls together.)
5. two different mountain bike posse friends.
6. my friend Noah (of Skull-a-Day fame.)

I think there was more, but that's all I remember. The best part was at the end of the show when another vendor came over and, no lie, told us how much he loved our tablecloths. BOO YA, plate-mirror bitch!

Okay, on to the rudeness! Now, in the town where I live there is a very powerful local chain of grocery stores, a company that prides itself on it's excellent customer service and mostly they do okay. My first job was as a grocery bagger in one of their stores and it wasn't the worst job I've ever had. I pretty much give them all my grocery business because it's a nice clean store and I know where everything is. The cashiers are generally friendly and rarely check the expiration dates on my coupons. That changed a few weeks ago.

So, I do my usual big shopping trip, get in line and pile my stuff up on the checkout thingy. My cashier, Monica, was not terribly friendly, but that's fine, I don't really care as long as she's accurate. Eh, not so much with that either. I'm watching the items on the little screen and I notice that I've been charged $3.87 for cucumbers. The problem is, I didn't actually buy any cucumbers. Here's how the rest of it went down:

Me: Hey, sorry, something rang up as cucumbers, but I didn't buy any.
Monica: ... (says nothing, pages back to see the cucumber listing, then continues to ring up my groceries without actually fixing the problem, as if I won't notice.)
Me: Uh...
Monica: (refuses look at me directly or acknowledge me.)
Me: those apples just rang up as oranges...
Monica: (continues to ignore me, but fixes the code this time.)
Me: ...and I'm still wondering about the cucumbers? I didn't buy any.
Monica: (continues to act as if I haven't spoken.)
Me: ...um...
Monica: (finishes ringing up my stuff.)
Me: Hi, really, can you take off the cucumbers? I didn't buy any.
Monica: *sigh* (addressing the bagger) DID YOU BAG ANY CUCUMBERS?
Me: Hey! I think I'd remember buying four dollars worth of cucumbers.
Bagger: no.
Me: I'm not LYING.
Monica: *sigh* (removes the charge, hands me the receipt, turns her back on me.)
Me: (to the bagger): How are you today?
Bagger: (petulantly) fine.
Me: OKAY GREAT.

I'm still pissed off about this and it's been a week and a half. I didn't actually complain to the manager, though I probably should have, because I don't like being the shrill complainer more than I already am, you know? I think my lesson here is to avoid Monica like the plague.

Don't hold back, now.

Last weekend we had a local two-day craft show that went pretty well, I think. The weather was glorious (which doesn't necessarily equal good $$, but it's nice for us in general) and the crowds were quite good. Very few crazy people and lots of repeat customers, which is really flattering. There's nothing nicer than someone coming up to tell you how much they loved the necklace they bought from you last year. I could hear that all day and never get bored. You love me? Really? YOU DON'T SAY. PLEASE KEEP TALKING.

There was a lot of good art/craft at this show and also some that fell into the "breathtakingly weird" category. The painter across the way certainly was part of the latter and, because I completely lack morals or decency, I asked Kate to take a picture:


I mean, how on earth would I ever properly describe this stuff with plain old words? My favorite one was on the other side of the divider and it involved a pictorial of the caves of Lurray Caverns complete with ghostly cavern people-creatures. Wow. Clearly. On. Something. The paintings certainly did keep us entertained all weekend - better than TV! She even sold a couple which just...wow. Good for her.

We spent most of Sunday going into a gradual slump as the weekend wound down and sales slowed. We were not all that excited about the process of breaking everything down because what a pain in the ass that is. Near the end of the show the woman from the booth directly across the aisle who sold ugly plate-mirror hybrids came marching over and said,

"I've been looking over here all weekend and I couldn't stand it any longer..."

Now, because I'm a flopsy fucking moron, I sort of assumed she'd been glazed over with love for a our shiny baubles and wanted to buy something. Oh ho ho! How funny that is.

No, no, instead she spent the next 20 minutes telling us how incredibly awful our booth display is and how we need to throw out our table cloths because they, "don't make sense" and blah blah blah. Then she talked about how she's been doing shows for 20 years and has held booth design seminars and has really figured out what works. I stood there glaring mutely while Kate (poor Kate, always the mediator of rudeness and crazy) was very kind and took her unasked-for criticism gracefully.

So I ask you, what the hell? What on earth? Who does that? Just for the record (and because I lack morals and decency) I asked Kate to take a picture of her booth:



Now, here's our booth:



Not perfect, sure, but cute, right? At least we aren't selling ugly plate-mirrors. I mean, damn.

Six Things You Didn't Really Want To Know Anyway.

I got tagged, like, weeks ago but I've been crazy-busy with all manners of things and memes have too many damn rules anyway. That said, I like to be thought well of so here you go, Jeanne:

Here are the meme rules:
1. link to the person who tagged you (check)
2. post the rules (check)
3. write six things about yourself (check)
4. tag six people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs. (eh.)
5. Let them know they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their sites. (eh.)
6. Let your tagger know when your entry is up. (yes, ma'am.)

Six things you probably already know about me because I pretty much tell you guys everything:

1. I'm shallow. Okay, maybe not shallow, but I like stuff. Pretty stuff. Pretty stuff for me. I like to have nice things and I spend a lot of time thinking about my things and plotting about new things I'd like to have and wear. I like to organize my closet, shoes and handbags, and just sit back and look at them all. I like to tuck away a particularly loved item and not use it for a while just so it will feel new again when I do. I like to look cute. I like my legs when I wear heels.

2. I'm pretty close to having OCD, I think. I have a particular schedule I run by and I don't like having that schedule messed with and I will go to great lengths to try to keep things the same in the face of change. Example: I have a snack every morning around 10am. Yesterday, a staff meeting was scheduled from 9:30-11:00. This was Not Good as it completely blocked my snack time. My solution was to stuff a handful of pretzels in my maw at 9:27 even thought I wasn't hungry yet. See also: closet doors must be closed before I can fall asleep. And, I own flatware I refuse to eat with because it's not quite right. Only a first-world idiot could be so picky.

3. I've toyed with the idea of going back to school to get a master's degree and then I laugh and laugh because, WHY. Mostly I think I just want to read fancy books and have someone tell me what they mean.

4. Every thought in my head shows on my face so I have to constantly readjust and try to deadpan it. This is why my previous (crazy) boss used to get mad at me for giving her what she described as, "that blank deer-in-the-headlights look." What she didn't know was that it was just covering up my "You-are-a-crazy-crazy-horrible-bitch-look."

5. Hey, you know those people who are all, "my house is messy, but it's not dirty." Yeah, well mine is messy and dirty. My kitchen floor has it's own post office and stop light.

6. Even at the ripe old age of 36 I still feel like I'm about 12, which is why it's so freaking strange to me to wonder if perhaps I'm really too old to be wearing a short skirt . Then, the other day I discovered I have knee wrinkles. KNEE WRINKLES. I weep. This whole age thing became especially clear to me when I was browsing for books in the library yesterday and pulled The Headmaster Ritual off the shelf, only to realize it was written by the little brother of my best friend from elementary school. DANG. In my head, he is still six years old and eating cereal with apple juice instead of milk. Who gave him permission to grow up?

That's all I've got today kids, but stay tuned! Upcoming blog topics:

- A cashier was really fucking rude to me!
- Stories of a two day craft show in which someone was really fucking rude to us!
- Mad gunman on the loose where I work! I left at five anyway!

Stimulating Talk About the Weather

This morning it rained. Yesterday it rained. Sunday it rained. Last weekend, it rained. This shit has got to stop because when you pair seasonal dysfunction with my own fine brand of hormonal dysfunction you get a very, very scary situation. Yesterday when trying to drive quickly to get to the gym in time for a 5:30pm cycling class I actually caught myself giving the finger to a raindrop that dared to land on my windshield. And if I could have reached through that windshield and pushed the other cars out of my way, I probably would have.

I pretty much lost my mind after I got to the gym, changed real fast, made a dash to the bathroom and, when I headed for one of the three sinks to wash my hands, some girl neatly cut me off to take the only open sink. I really almost throttled her. Instead, I channeled my rage into a little tap-dance of impatience which made everyone look at me like I was crazy. Hey girls, guess what? I AM. AND CRAZY WANTS TO WASH HER DAMN HANDS SO MOVE.

Yes, I am that girl, thank you.

Spinning class was incredibly productive because I had lots and lots of angry energy to spin out of my system but also still had plenty of inner-snark regarding a bitchy girl I used to go to high school with who has the worst cycling form of all time. (I mean, damn girl, you sure can spin those pedals but you might want to try some of that there resistance so that you're actually doing something.) By the time I got home I pretty much wanted to crawl into a corner with a chocolate bar in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. I could clearly see myself hissing at anyone who approached while stroking the wine bottle and calling it my precious. Instead I made a healthy dinner that was not fried (EVEN THOUGH I WANTED IT TO BE) and dutifully had half a glass of wine.

I'm feeling just fine today, by the way. In case you're scared of me or something. Also, I've updated my bike blog recently, so go take a look and quit bitching about it.

I remembered the third thing and what the hell have I been doing with my time?

Okay, that third thing? Its weird. Twice, I've had people here at work make weird jestures around their face and jaw to demonstrate to me how they knew I wasn't feeling well. The first time it happened was when I was recovering from the flu. The janitor asked me if I was feeling better and said she could tell I wasn't because [insert her making a swirly hand-motion around her jaw area.] Wow, great.

Then, last week, it happened again! I was in a two hour meeting the morning after a night of barely sleeping. (I was also having a small problem with keeping my face straight and my eyes from rolling because the meeting was really awful and people were saying dumb things. Lots of dumb things. But that's a whole different issue.) Anyway, after the meeting a woman I know asked if I was feeling okay. I mentioned the insomnia and she said she could see it in my face and made the same swirly jesture around her jaw to demonstrate. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? Does my jaw do awful face-deforming things that I'm unaware of? Totally paranoid now, thanks.

As for what I've been busy with, you can read it here, here and here. Go crazy.

I'll Stop the World and Mentally Breakdown with You

GOD COULD THIS WEEK JUST END ALREADY. Sorry to be all MIA but it's been insane around here in new and special ways. Lots of crazy events at work (reunion, inauguration etc.) lots of crazy events in general (Spring Bada-Bing, Sunday April 20th please go. please.) and I haven't had time to do much of anything when it comes to the blog world. My sad bike blog hasn't been updated in two months! It's hard to write about biking when it's rained for a month solid. ANYWAY. Here are a few things I might one day have time to write about:

- First, the next person who tsks at me and tells me to check the number on the bottom of my fake nalgene water bottle is going to get a face full of plastic-poisoned water. I DO NOT CARE. I don't have the time or energy to worry about this right now. Plus, the alternative is how many stitches I'll get from all the broken glass when I replace all my plastic containers. So, really, fucking lay off. The Today Show doesn't know everything.

- Second, the beautiful and glorious weeping willow in our back yard, the prettiest thing our yard had going for it, is stone dead. I can't even talk about it without getting a little choked up.

- Third, ...blink. Brain dead. I had a third thing but it's gone now. If I remember it I'll let you know.

Dangerous Mood.

That's what I'm in today. I was fine and it's Friday and all, so that's good. Then I got an email from my stepmother with the contact information for where she and my father will be staying in PARIS. THIS WEEKEND. I should also mention that my mother, aunt and cousins are going to Paris in May. Guess who's not going to Paris? If you guessed me, you are just so smart. One of those bitches better bring me some macarons or there is going to be a temper tantrum of MONUMENTAL proportions. There will be snot and tears and gum stuck in my hair.

On the bright side, I just today received word that my bathroom walls are finished. Beautiful creamy white plaster, all smooth and crack-free! Yay for that! We wised up and hired someone to make it beautiful so I could paint without having chunks of wall fall on my head.

It's not Paris, but it's something.

I guess.