The Chemical Reaction of Mixing Water, Vinegar and a Rubber Bag

Ordinarily, I do not believe in making fun of people. Pffffffft, guffaw!!!! Yeah, right! And so, we come to the events of yesterday. I am a nice person when I am working. Let me just get that out there right now. I mean, I am REALLY nice. I am charming and sweet and funny. And I keep rude comments to myself. Which is why, I am going to let this all out here, where the people I'm about to make fun of will never read it. And if they DO happen to read it... Good! Maybe they will fucking learn something other than how to piss me off quickly.

So yesterday, I was busy being my sweet, charming self, when a couple comes to my store. They received a gift, they told me, a wedding gift SIX MONTHS AGO. And now they want to return it because for some strange reason, the six month old gift no longer works. Chances are Mr. Douche McHosin (names are changed to protect the idiotic) probably sat in his own feces while flinging said gift against the wall in an attempt to fix it. Who knows? But I said none of this and instead smiled sweetly and informed them of our two week return policy. That said, I told them that I'd get the manager, because she'd probably tell me that it was alright to return it.

They don't have a receipt, they told me, because it was a gift. Um, yeah, okay. This was about the time my bullshit meter started going off the chart, but I did not call their bluff and instead proceeded to page the manager. The manager came after a few minutes, she being busy with another customer. This didn't sit well with Mr. and Mrs. Douche McHosin. The manager is only one person, folks. She isn't superwoman... close, but not quite. She did come, though, only to tell me that while it was against company policy, she would go ahead and let me return it for them. This should have made them happy, right?

So I proceeded to scan the barcode, only for the computer to tell me that no such sku number exists in our system. *bullshit alert! bullshit alert!* I then went ahead and manually typed in the sku number, but still, there was no such sku number in our system. I looked carefully at the sku tag. IT WASN'T OUR TAG! I called the manager over again to repeat the process, while subtley eyeing the sku tag. She took the hint.

"Sir, our computer doesn't recognize this sku. And now that I look at the product.. we don't even sell this. That isn't our tag, either," she told them.

"Is it possible that they bought it somewhere else?" I asked politely.

"Oh yeah, like our friends just lied to us about where they bought it!!!!!" Mr. Douche Mchosin screamed.

"I'm not saying the lied, just maybe they made a mistake," I replied.

"Fuck this! Let's go!" Mr. Douche yanked the product off the counter, slamming it into wall in the process. He then stomped out the doors.

His wife, on the other hand, was not about to back down, which only made his exit all the more ridiculous, because after stomping out, he had to turn around and wait. *DOUCHE MCHOSIN, YOU GOT THE HOSE AND YOU GOT THE DOUCHEBAG, DOUCHE MCHOSIN YOU SMELL LIKE VINEGAR!* That's what his theme song would be if he were ever to become a superhero. What a dork, but I digress, as I have yet to get to his female counterpart.

For some strange reason, I thought that maybe Mrs. Douche might have a little more sense than her trogolodytic husband. Calmly, the manager and I both explained to her that we WANTED to help her, but we cannot return something into our system without the sku number. (I can't even get into the register unless I put a sku number in! I'm not fucking magic!) She sniffed her nose at both of us, telling us that we were being ridiculous and why would she pay for something she can't use. Well, actually, I thought to myself, you didn't pay for it, remember? You got it as a gift... Your story is starting to unravel, Hosey. Eventually, she stomps out the door, as well.

I then turned to the next customer, who as it turned out, also needed the manager's assistance. And he too, had to wait, because while I was assisting him, the manager had gotten side-tracked with yet another customer. I apologized profusely, but after having witnessed the Douches, he smiled and said he was more than happy to wait, that he would never give me a hard time. God Bless that man. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. Bless him and all his own.

Sacrifices

I'm sitting here alone. My husband is off on a mission, my son is at school. Then he will go to a friend's house to spend the night. I, on the other hand, have to work later. I feel like they've left me behind. I do not like this feeling. It is only exacerbated by the fact that in November, my Chris will be riding onto a stage with Lee Greenwood on the back of his bike. Um, hello, in case Mr. Greenwood doesn't know, that's MY spot. AND I HAVE TO WORK. So I can't go.

GRUMBLE GRUMBLE GRUMBLE

STOMP STOMP STOMP

POUT POUT POUT

And if all that wasn't bad enough, I can't take Kade to Halloween party at church, because I'm working. I will be working on my anniversary -- you know, the magical day where everyone celebrates my anniversary by dressing up in scary costumes. The good thing is that I will get off early enough to get an anniversary dinner in there. Still, it's going to be hard to fit trick-or-treating in the same night. Add that to the fact that I will be missing a parent-teacher conference at school, as well. I've never missed one of those! Because who doesn't like hearing how great your kid is? So Chris gets to do that instead. He will never ask all the right questions, sigh.

And really, it's all about control. I am used to controlling certain situations that I can now no longer control. I have to let it go. Let Chris take on some of my responsibilities. But it's hard. Last night, I came home to find dishes backed up on both sides of the sink, down the counters and onto the stove. I have to tell myself, "Ari, you told them not to touch the dishes, because you were afraid they'd load them into the dishwasher incorrectly." So I did them all, cursing myself the entire time. Then, in Cub Scouts, they began learning different knots. It really got to me that Chris was able to teach Kade in a matter of minutes, when I had all that trouble with Kade tieing his shoes.

But you know what? After all is said and done, when I come home from work, I hear footsteps pounding down the stairs. I see an overjoyed kid, who wraps his arms around me. We tell that we missed each other. We are still adjusting to the separation, Kade and I. My Chris makes sure I have cold Mt. Dew. My Kade offers to massage my feet. AND HE DOES! The other night, he even kissed one and I have to say, it was the sweetest thing I ever witnessed. So what if I have to make a few sacrifices here and there? It all evens out in the end.

Running On Fumes

We went to the Vets Home today to visit the vets. Kade was in usual form, greeting everyone he passed, introducing himself to everyone. The sad part is that unfortunately, we are never able to visit them ALL in one go. The good part is that if you sit with them long enough, they'll tell you stories. Man, those guys are funny as hell.

I am absolutely exhausted. I don't really know what's wrong with me, but I can't seem to get any energy. Having to be cheery at work sure does take it out of ya. I'm not used to having a sunny disposition for eight hours straight. I feel off. I hope I'm not getting sick. I can't deal with that right now. However, I did come home yesterday to find my house spotless. I love my boys.

Dream Interrupted

(I was sitting at a table with Wentworth Miller, Hulk Hogan and Tom Cruise. We were all dining on lobsters and crab legs. They promised me chocolate chip cheesecake for dessert, so who could pass that up?)

"Mom, where's my glasses?"

"Over there."

(Mr. Cruise was being vulgar. I expressed my disdain at his obscenities, which caused Mr. Hogan to rise up to defend my honor.)

"Mom, my Gamecube isn't working."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

(Mr. Cruise refused to back down. After having accepted the challenge, he and Mr. Hogan began to duel. It was intense to say the least. Cruise got some good shots in there, but then Hogan grabbed him by the crotch, picked him up and --- )

"Mom, can I play on your computer?"

"Yes, Kade, yes. Go."

(Crap, I missed it. Hogan slammed Cruise to the ground and I missed it. For some reason, Cruise was making gurgling noises on the marble floor. This was funny to me. I began to wonder if maybe I was a very disturbed person, but then Dr. Phil waltzed in to assure me that I am quite sane. He began laughing at Cruise, as well. Then he and Hogan declare they need to take out the garbage, so they carried Cruise out the door. That left Wentworth and I to finish up the cheesecake. He looked at me and smiled. I batted my eyelashes. He leaned in.)

"Mom, can I play a different game on your computer?"

"Leave me alone! Yes, go!"

(Wentworth had a mystified expression on his face.

"You want me to leave you alone?" he asked.

"No, uh, no not you.. Where were we?"

He put his arms around me. We were close that way. He leaned in for a kiss again.)

"BREAKFAST IS READY!!!!!"

I looked up into Wentworth's eyes.

"I have to go."

"Why?"

"He made me eggs. I love his eggs."

"Same time tomorrow?"

"Deal!"

Uh Yeah

I would like to write a lengthy thought-provoking, soul-searching essay that delves into my innermost feelings and experiences, whilst engaging readers in a profound way. I would like to, but I can't. After two weeks of working, my brain is on vacation. The only thought coming through right now is:

DOES NOT COMPUTE

Really, the only way to get past this is to relax for the rest of the day and tomorrow. And then maybe, just maybe I can process whatever people say to me without a blank stare. Just for future reference, no, you may not get a refund for reading this entry.

Content and Tired

My brain is mush. I learned something, today, though. I'd like to share:

When customers have a right to be angry, they usually aren't. When they have no reason to be angry, they will be.

In order for a roast to be cooked when you get home, it must be placed into the crockpot ahead of time, as opposed to oooooh, let's just say... leaving it in the fridge.

When people ask your age and you reply "29" and then they ask how many kids you have, they're always going to be incredulous when you respond "five". And if you want to top that, tell them you also have five grandkids. It's great.

I like when people smile back.

My dogs love popcorn. I'm too afraid to give them the kernels, so I bite that part off and give them the soft part. I think my dogs are lesbians. I think it's sweet. When they have been apart all day, they act like star-crossed lovers when they finally do see each other. They nuzzle each other's noses with a few kisses. It's so darling... Unless one of them is on your lap when they meet and then it's basically a free-for-all with a few "get off of me!" yelps in there. Those yelps ARE coming from me, you know. I typed that last sentence for the perverted people that would take that the wrong way. Friggin' pervs.

Kade is still suspicious that there are secret laboratories out there that are making biological weapons (monsters) that will hunt him. I finally had to tell him he was vaccinated against that. He was pretty satisfied with that answer. He is no longer allowed to watch zombie movies.

Chris is a sweetheart, but then again, I already knew that. That's MY Chris, you know. Although, the other Chris is probably a sweetheart, too. Probably.

Standing all day does nothing to my feet, but man does my butt hurt.

Just thought I'd share.

The Demise of Stay-at-Home Ari

I just completed my first paid week of work. No big deal, right? I come home one afternoon to find my Chris sorting through charts.

"I think we should use these charts," he said.

I looked them over to discover that they were household chore lists. I smirked, thinking that he would be all "Let me tell you what to do with your time so that you can work AND clean the house." In which case, it was going to be a screaming match. And I can scream, you know. Loudly. Really loudly.

But I was wrong. Instead it had all the major household chores laid out so that the three of us could pick and choose which ones we'd do. I stuck with the chores that involved appliances that I do not want broken, like the dishwasher and laundry appliances. I don't care how progressive things are with the sexes these days, I still do not trust the boys to load the dishwasher properly. And we all know how well my Chris does laundry. *coughPINKcough*

Kade chose chores that he frequently does anyway, along with a few that were at his level, like sweeping the floor. I figure he's closer to the floor, it'll be easier for him to sweep. I like my logic. My Chris chose jobs based on glares that I give him over the table, i.e. taking out the garbage, picking up the living room.

To tell you the truth, we made our chore list and posted it on the kitchen wall for all to see, but I really didn't expect anyone to stick to it. I thought maybe it would last a day. And so, the other night, my Chris got off work before me. He was the one that picked up Kade. I came home to find the house smelling wonderful, because he had started dinner. I walked into the kitchen to find Kade sweeping the floor (although, really he was only pushing dust around.) I was surprised and happy, but strangely irritated and then I walked into the laundry room.

Someone put a pair of my pink pants in with whites!!! Who does that!? Who does that even though it's not on his chore list and I've told him time after time that pinks and reds don't go with whites?! For some inexplicable reason, I got really angry. I stomped around the laundry room muttering to myself. The pink pants in question have been washed dozens of times. They weren't going to turn any of the whites pink. I hate sweeping the floor and cooking, so why would I mind if the boys do it? They were being sweet about it. So why was I so angry?

I guess the answer is that somehow I feel as though I've lost control a bit. I've considered myself the master of this domain for so long that now it feels as if I've slipped. Who cares if they don't do things MY way, just so long as it gets done? So I've been trying to be more patient. My Chris doesn't spray down the end tables before he wipes them clean. So what? I can let that go. I showed Kade the joys of the dustpan, but he still has trouble. So what? He'll learn. Besides, my room is a mess and I haven't cleaned it in more than a week. Who am I to talk?

It sucks not being in power. It sucks to share the limelight, but on the other hand, we are sharing the responsibility, too. I sort of prefer the original method of me directing them, being the little dictator of this house, but then again I hated not being the one bringing home a paycheck. We make sacrifices, though. I can't do it all. So I'll have to let them do some.

But if you ask anyone in this house who wears the pants, IT'S STILL ME! (Black leather ones with a silk scarf as a belt.)

Modern Day Boogeyman

"Hello?"

"Mom, I have you on speakerphone. I have a serious question to ask."

"What?"

"Grampa John works in a scientific lab, right?"

"Well, no, he's in pharmaceudicals."

"But they have a lab, right?!"

"Yes, but they make insulin---"

"And in that lab, are any of them making bio-engineered monsters or zombies?"

*laughs* "Uh, no."

"He makes medicine, right?"

"Yeah, he makes insulin for diabetic patients."

"See, Kade, there are no scientists out there making the ultimate biological weapon that will come hunt you down. Now go to bed."

Now I Can Play

I am not average, damn it. Still, at least I'm not Cartman.

Awhile ago, I sent my Chris into a Sprint store to have him end our contract. I was fed up. They, realizing how complete and utterly douchey they've been, bent over backwards trying to get us to stay. They signifigantly lowered our bill, as well as giving us a few bonuses. What bonus, you ask? I'm talking walkie talkie bonuses. Yup. They gave us both new phones with walkie talkie action. In fact, they aren't even charging me for mine.

But really, all I want to do is go on about the walkie talkie aspect of it all. So the other day, my phone came in the mail. My Chris set it up. Unbeknownst to me, he set up a link between his phone and mine. So I'm home alone, I walk into the kitchen, spot the phone and decide to play around with it. See if I could take pictures, that kind of thing. I picked it up, my thumb hitting a button on the side of the phone. The phone gave out a few beeps, while I stood there stunned.

Suddenly a "Yeah? Are you there?" comes out of my phone.

I flip open the phone and respond, "Yes, I'm here."

"Are you there?"

"Who is this? Did I accidently dial a number?"

"Ari, are you there? You have to hit the side button to talk."

So I hit the side button, "Hello?"

"Pretty cool, huh? We don't even have to call each other on our phones. You can just hit that button and talk to me at work."

... Oh... oooooooooh this is precious! The ideas! I have to tell you, I am smitten with the walkie talkie action on my phone. Sometimes I just hit that button to see if he's listening. He always is. He came home from work today, rolling his eyes at me. You see, he keeps the phone hooked on his belt, but his customers can't see the phone. So he'll be helping a customer when suddenly, "Are you there?" comes out. His customers, not knowing where it came from, start trying to look over the counter, as if he's keeping a midget down there or something. This is the coolest phone EVER!!!!

One of these days, I'm going to hit that button and say, "Can you hear me now?" Or better yet, "Hey, it's hot in here. Let me out!!!!!! There's no room in here! Stupid tightie whities!"

Eye Candy

Because I can.

Btw, the answer was indeed driving in snow. Good going, Jod!

Faux Pas Funnies

So let's face it. I liked doing That's So Wrong segments, but it became overwhelming trying to upload so many pics and video, that combined with the fact that if they weren't compatible, it became a nightmare. So I had to quit. But I haven't given up totally. I have instead stumbled upon a new idea.

A friend and I were conversing on IM. After a few exchanges, I noticed she became rather amused. I looked back at what I'd written and voila! The idea was born. This is how it goes. I'm going to post a tiny piece of the convo. Based on that tiny piece, you have to guess what I'm talking about. The winner receives absolutely nothing, but I'm thinking the answers will be hilarious unto themselves.

Here we go:

Mechants: well when you know what you're doing, that's one thing. but you get a few freaks out there that can't handle a couple of inches and it gets crazy.

What am I talking about?

Get your heads out of the gutter, it's totally innocent, I swear.

The Player

Last Thursday was open house at school. My Chris was determined to get it over as quickly as possible. He had a severe case of "Don't-they-know-it's-Survivor-night"itis. When we got there, I kept seeing mother after mother. I tried to keep my chitchat at a minimum, but when we got to the classroom, the teacher and I went over schoolwork and such. Kade has a problem realizing the fact that the teacher and I teach differently. Just because I don't do things her way, does not mean I do them incorrectly. In fact, when I explained his homework to him, he understood it much better. And she is okay with that. Which is why I really really like her.

Be that as it may, Chris was getting anxious as the minutes ticked on. Kade, of course, was doing his best to greet EVERYONE in the building. One of the teachers saw him and pulled me aside.

"You know he does that everyday? He does. Even if he doesn't know someone, he will go right up and engage them in conversation in a very adult way. I can't believe how personable this kid is."

"He does that all the time," I said, "He's always been around adults."

That brought back images of a few weeks ago when we had gone to Navy Pier. We were on a PIER. You know, the kind that sometimes doesn't have railings all the way around it, so that a child could very easily fall into Lake Michigan... yeah, that kind. I had had Kade standing next to me, so that I could pass out badges. When I turned around, he was gone. I went straight into "Mommy" mode and began to panic when I couldn't find him. I began asking people if they'd seen him. Turns out, he'd seen Rose and had gone to sit next to her. He is fascinated with her. I was relieved to see where he was; she waved to let me know he was fine. After that, I made him promise to pretend we had magnetic strips on our hips, so that we always had to touch. This became a game to him, but I didn't mind, because for the rest of the day, I knew where he was.

People think it's really cute that this kid comes over to shake their hand and talk to them as if he were thirty. I do not find it so cute. It scares the hell out of me. Yes, I know he's a sweet kid. Yes, I know he talks to anyone, will make anyone feel right at home. Even a bunch of mean bad-ass bikers turn to sugar when my son is around. That does not make me feel safe. It worries the hell out of me.

We sat on opposite couches. I, doing my best to keep my tone commanding, told him that he cannot just go up and talk to strangers.

"You can't do that, Kade. Someone could take you. You can't just talk to strangers. And you definitely may NOT leave my side. I was very upset that day when I couldn't find you. Someone could grab you and whisk you off and what could I do? Someone may want to keep you,"I finished with, "Everyone loves you."

And he very lazily rolled over onto his back, his head hanging off the side of the couch. He, suddenly grinned and murmured, "I know."

For a split second, I saw myself. For the life of me, I couldn't help but smile. Damn, he really is charming...

The magnetic strips are staying.