Future Self

I had a vision of my future self today.

You know the bitter old bastards who start ranting and bitching about people who don't speak English? And everyone just kind of lets them be jerks because they'll probably die soon and nobody wants their final interaction with somebody to be lecturing about rude behavior? Yep. That's gonna be me.

"But Roz! Wasn't your Plan Z to be an English as a Second Language teacher?"

(Note: This must be pronounced in the British way, Plan "Zed" and not the American Plan "Zee." Why? Who the Hell knows. Something about over-exaggerating the amount of frustration that comes with having my life plans disrupted so often and having 26 back up plans. It makes it sound more fatalistic, doesn't it?)

Why, yes. Yes, it was! I considered graduate school for a TESOL program. I tutored ESL. I enjoyed it. I love helping people learn something they're interested in learning, and most of my ESL students were genuinely interested in learning English. I appreciated their enthusiasm. And I don't mean I'm going to be a racist old jerk. I'm not going to tell Indian people who speak English perfectly well to go back to Mexico. I mean the obnoxious people who were born and raised in the States and just refuse to respect language. Or the people they're attempting to communicate with.

My vision of my future self occurred tonight at work. Two twenty-something Caucasian men with Mid-Atlantic accents came in. I did not get the impression they were joking or attempting in any way to be funny during the follow conversation.
D-Bag One: Where you at, Brah?
D-Bag Two: I be here!
D-Bag One: I finded it!
D-Bag Two: Tits!

My future self then busted out my Old Lady cane and whomped them both upside the head.

Perfume/Cologne: Knock it the Hell Off Already!

I like things that smell nice. I think a man who smells good is incredibly sexy. I have some scented candles in my home. I have nice smelling shampoo and scented hand soaps. I even wear perfume most days (okay, cheap body spray, but whatever). Here's how I put that on. I get out of the shower. I dry off. I spray one spritz of body spray between my breasts, touch the area with my wrists, then touch my wrists to my neck and then the inside of my elbows. Then I wander about my home for a bit before I put my work clothes on. Ta-da! The scent stays with me all day without being overwhelming.

If I walk near you and can TASTE your cologne, you need to take your ass home and shower.

So let's say you go a store, such as Bath and Body Works. Bath and Body Works has a lot of fantastic products and a lot of great scents. Sometimes, I like to smell the various things they have. "Hey, Black Amethyst! I wonder how that smells!" So, I grab a little strip of paper that they provide, spritz the paper, and smell it that way. Or maybe I pick up the tester lotion and sniff that. Sometimes, if I really like the scent, I'll even put a little lotion on my hands - it's a sampler, that's why it's there!

The wrong way to go into Bath and Body Works, or any store that sells perfume/cologne/body spray/whatthehellever: "Oooh, Aspen! I wonder what the smells like!" Rip open bottle, dump over head. Yeah, that's right. Get your theft's worth out of it. If you give yourself and improvised cologne bath, it'll last longer after all. Oh, wait. It won't. Fail.

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaames!!!!

Le Boyfriend and I went out to dinner with my mother the other day. It was mostly really nice. Le Boyfriend is wonderful; Mom is wonderful. Put them together, it's pretty much an automatic win.

Here's where dinner got stupid. Le Boyfriend and I walk into the restaurant and are seated by the host. Now, normally I create pseudonyms for people, but I just can't make up something more ridiculous than what was said to us: "Tequila will be your waitress."
Host walks away, and I lean over to Le Boyfriend. "Did he just say 'Tequila'?"
"Sounded like it. He couldn't have...."

We sit down, we start chatting with my mom, and our waitress approaches. "Hi, I'm Tequila. I'll be your waitress." And holy damn, her name tag said "Tequila."

At this point, I'd like you to picture me staring at my feet, pinching the bridge of my nose, and shaking my head in dismay.

Okay. Liquor is not a name. Do not name your child after liquor. (The major exception that I can think of to this is Brandy. If the alcoholic beverage shares a name with a region and is an accepted human name, go nuts.) Let's discuss other words that are not names.

Adjectives: Lacey, Blue, Precious
Fruits: Gwyneth Paltrow has more money than God and is from a fucking dynasty. She can name her child Apple. She can afford the therapy. If you can afford the therapy, go ahead and name your child Raisin or Apricot or Pomegranate.
Household Objects: Doorknob. Wrench. Spade. Definitely do not name your child Spade. Trust me. Just don't.
Barnyard Animals: If you ever thought, "Hey, I should name my daughter Pig!" just go punch yourself in the face.
Body Parts: Foot. Eyeball. Keratin. Sadly, I can see somebody naming their daughter Keratin. Please don't be that person.
Appliances: I love TV. LOVE it. I'm watching it right now. But if I were to name my son Television, I'd call social services on myself. Blender, Alarm Clock, and Nintendo Wii are also unacceptable.
Happy Concepts, but You're Spelling it Differently and Pretending It's a Name: Luv, Kumpanionship, Piece, Justys. No. It also doesn't work if you give your daughter a Happy Concept Name with an "a" on the end of it. "Dreama"? Nope-a.
Titles of Family Members: It's just weird when you name your infant son Uncle. Even weirder when you name him Great-Great-Grandpa.
Cardinal Directions: I dated a man with the last name West. I dig it as a last name. Leave it as that.
President's Names: I don't mean the first names. Most of the US Presidents had solid first names. I can even get on board with giving your child a President's last name as a middle name. But for the love of sanity, don't give your child the first name Garfield. Or Polk. Really. Not cool. And cool it with the Kennedies already. Fantastic last name. I can even dig it if the mother's maiden name is Kennedy and wants to carry on that name. But I listened to a woman discuss what she wanted to name her next child and say she wanted to stick with the theme of president's names. "I have a Madison, a Jefferson, a Kennedy..." Your children aren't a novelty. You don't need to collect the whole set!
Royal Titles: It's cute when you name your dog Duchess. Not cool when you do that to your child.
Super Heroes: Don't name your son Superman. Please. Just don't do it.
ADOLF FUCKING HITLER: There was some crazy ass couple who named their son Adolf Hitler. No, not a couple that lived in a cave and happened to have the last name "Hitler" and thought "Hey, Adolf is a good, strong German name!" Not Alois and Klara Hitler in 1889. A couple who intentionally gave their son the first name Adolf, middle name Hitler. They also gave their daughter the middle name "Third Reich." If you're a hateful, ethnocentric, Manifest Destiny-Loving bastard, then that's on you - don't saddle your child with that shit.

Some examples of names that are pretty awesome:
Boys: Alexander, Bradley, Charles, David, Edward, Frank, Greg, Hank, Ivan, Jerry, Kenneth, Leonard, Michael, Nicholas, Oliver, Paul, Quinn, Richard, Steven, Thomas, Victor, William, Zachary
Girls: Amy, Bethany, Catherine, Darlene, Elizabeth, Glenda, Hannah, Ingrid, Julie, Kimberly, Laura, Mary, Nancy, Olivia, Quinn, Rosalind (it's a good one!), Sarah, Theresa, Veronica, Wilhemina (unless your last name is Murray. That's a big role to fill).
Can you spot the common thread? THESE ARE NAMES!!!!!
Don't throw Scrabble tiles and make up a name. Pick up a damn baby names book. Reading won't hurt you.

Roz's Night In

I mentioned last night that I was sad and working on clearing out my bookcase. Well, still sad tonight. I took an excellent photo that I wanted to share on here, but there seems to be some issue right now that is preventing me from posting. So, let me paint you a word picture!

Three beautiful round items of varying size sit on the clean kitchen table. The largest item is mostly orangey-yellow, with small red objects arranged in concentric circles. The medium sized item is a gorgeous, golden brown with a slight orange undertone. The smallest in circumference is the tallest item. It's mostly black, with splashes of color. As you look down on this item, you can see letters on the top, written in a fun, groovy font. Upon closer inspection, you make out two of the most glorious words in the English Language. "Phish Food."

Pepperoni Pizza. Pumpkin Pie. Ben and Jerry's Phish Food ice cream.

If you'll excuse me, folks, I need to go discuss my feelings with some food.

Some Books or Something.

I'm sad tonight, so this somehow led to me cleaning the bookshelves. And man alive, are there a lot of books. There are, of course, the books I read. There are still some old books from college. And then there are all of the books people have given me for various reasons, such as "Oh, you like books? Here's the entire Danielle Steele collection for some reason!" So this then led to me going through my half.com inventory and lowering prices. So if you've ever read this blog and then thought, "Hey, what does Roz read? I wish I could buy her used books!" well, this is your lucky day! Also a great place if you want to pick up some 90s sci-fi on VHS!

http://shops.half.ebay.com/einkleinblitzfan_W0QQ

Jerk Tips for Cats Has Arrived

Hello, my lovely readers,

A while ago, I discussed the possibility of creating a separate blog for my Jerk Tips for Cats series. Well, I finally got my poop in a group and started that up tonight. If you've enjoyed the Jerk Tips for Cats entries I've made in the past, please check out the blog dedicated specifically to the series.  http://jerktipsforcats.blogspot.com/

Thanks for reading!

Roz

Step the Bloody Fuck Over and Scratch Your Lotto Tickets Elsewhere!

I used to work overnights at a gas station/convenience store. We sold Lotto tickets. Both the type where you pick your numbers and check the results of a drawing and the scratchers. It was a pretty excellent job, really. I'd go in, do about two hours of cleaning, sit down and read for an hour, clean a few more things. Deal with a customer here and there. I had some regular customers who were pretty cool who'd pop in and keep me company for a bit. I also had some regular customers who I wanted to do medical experiments on. Okay, maybe not exactly medical experiments, but things like "Can I fit this bastard's head in a coffee pot?" And those bastards were the scratcher ticket assholes. And the people who drove up to the store stoned off their asses, but they're not the focus of this rant. Although The Human Torch is a great story. I'll tell it sometime.

Most people work for their money and I don't give a rat's ass how those people spend their money. You worked 45 hours this week, are tired and in pain, and want to spend a dollar in hopes of winning ten dollars? Go for it! The Mega Millions jackpot is really, really high this week? Buy a couple of tickets. You saved all year to go to Vegas and want to play Black Jack all weekend? Have fun! These are not the people I want to choke.

19 year old kid walks into the store. He just sold some pot outside, so he has a good chunk of cash in his pocket. He asks for a $1 scratch-off ticket. Stands at the counter, scratches it off, leaving a neat little pile of silver shavings on the counter, even though there is a trash can literally six inches away from him. The ticket is a $1 winner. So, kid turns the ticket back in, and asks for another ticket. Okay. Takes his second ticket. Scratches it off at the register, shavings pile, etc. This ticket is a loser. So he pulls another dollar out his pocket. Repeat. Loses. Pulls out another dollar. Scratch scratch. Messy messy. Lose. Another dollar. Repeat entire process until kid has spent $30, plus the tickets that actually won that were turned in. This is really annoying because it has eaten an hour of my time. There's no patience with this person. I can't continue to stock cigarettes. Because apparently I'm a fucking vending machine and am only there to hand some jackass an entire roll of lotto scratchers one ticket at a time. However the super assy behavior here is that THERE ARE OTHER FUCKING CUSTOMERS and this asshole refuses to get the fuck out of line so another customer can check out.

My boyfriend ran into an asshole like this at the store today, so it's not just the one particular drug-dealing kid at one-thirty in the morning like I used to deal with. These people are all over the place, being pains in everyone's ass. Some of them have actual jobs and aren't just drug dealers. Some are adults. Some come out during the fucking grocery rush between five and six p.m.

I do not care how many lottery tickets you purchase. If you want to buy fifty tickets, cool. Buy them all at once and get the fuck out of my way. If you buy one and are disappointed and want to try again, fine. Get back in the goddamn line for your separate transaction. But if you're prepared to spend $30 on tickets, spend $30, go to your car, leave a shavings mess in your own car, then come back inside and redeem the redeemable ones. You know what? I don't even fucking care if you scratch off two or three tickets at the counter PROVIDED I DON'T HAVE A LINE. If there's a line, buy what you're buying and come back if you want. I frequently had to tell the drug-dealing kid to move so I could ring up another customer. And he'd get so huffy and pissy! "I was here first." Yes. You were. For the last motherfucking twenty minutes. You're obviously not leaving any time soon, just fucking move so the line can keep moving. Otherwise another customer WILL run you down with a buggy and the cashier will not help you acquire medical assistance. We might just pour those scratcher shavings in your mouth while you're on the floor with wheel marks on your face.

Manufacturer Coupons Are Not Magic

Well, dear readers, I know what you've all been thinking: Hey, Roz hasn't had a solid, coherent rant in a while! Just vague anger and some nonsense about cats. Well, we'll fix that!

This jerk walks into my store tonight. I'll call her Bonzo. Bonzo has stocked up on coupons, $2.00 off Brand Dentifrice (yeah, that's right, folks! We're using pseudonyms for general products now!). Well, our store happens to have Brand Dentifrice on sale for $2.00 right now! So, holy crap! That means it's free! Wow! That's so awesome! Hey, if you use TWO $2.00 coupons on one tube of Dentifrice, that means we'll just give you $2.00 out of the register!

FUCK YOU!!!!

No. That's not what it means. It means that Dentifrice has given you a voucher to use for their product. You bring that voucher to the store. You buy your Dentifrice, surrendering that voucher. We then return that voucher to Dentifrice, and they reimburse the store. Dentifrice wants their name out there. They want you to try their product. They are not giving you two dollars. They are giving you a voucher for a particular product. It's not a fucking gift card to be used as you wish, it's intended to offset some or all of the price of one specific item. If that product happens to be on sale when you choose to use that voucher, well, cool beans. You got the product for free.

So, Bonzo walks up to the register with one tube of Dentifrice and two Dentifrice coupons. And pitches the fit to end all fits when my cashier won't open the register and give her two dollars.

*sigh*

Okay. ... Okay... I...just...can't even.

Who's familiar with WIC? WIC is a United States government program to assist low-income mothers in being able to provide essentials for their children. I have never worked for the government and have never received these benefits, so I have no idea how the decisions are made, but somehow it is decided which vouchers are beneficial for which families. And these vouchers are really specific, such as one dozen large Grade A eggs or one large box of Cheerios. Somebody cannot come into the store with a voucher for a gallon of milk and instead use it on a gallon of orange juice. They cannot use the value of a voucher for a dozen eggs off of a carton of 18 eggs. If the dozen eggs are on sale for $1.99 down from the regular price of $2.49, you don't get fifty cents back after using the voucher on the sale item eggs. The US government is giving you a dozen eggs, no tradesies, no backsies.

Manufacturer coupons generally aren't as specific as WIC vouchers, but if you boil away all of the excess, the concept is quite similar. Here is a voucher for an item. You cannot use two vouchers on the same item. Got it? One coupon for $2.00 off your $2.00 tube of Dentifrice.

Not clear enough? Grab a manufacturer coupon. Any manufacturer coupon. On the top, near the expiration date, you'll see one of two things. It will either say "No cash value" or "Cash value is 1/100th of one cent." In the first case, acknowledge that your promotional voucher to encourage you to take a certain item home with you has no cash value; it is a fucking voucher. In the second, you want some money back? Give me one hundred of those bitches, and I'll give you a fucking penny. If you have the time and resources to obtain and carry around one hundred copies of the same coupon, I'll give you a penny. Out of my pocket, if need be. You've used $5 worth of ink and $2 worth of a paper (yes, as a matter of fact, I am pulling numbers out of my ass). You've earned a penny. Good job.

If you succeeded in using two manufacturer coupons for one item, it is the equivalence of theft. "But Roz, isn't that a bit of a stretch?" No. No, it's not. So, let's say you go to a store with an old, poorly programmed, DOS-y piece of shit register that doesn't know how to accept coupons and you get a cashier who doesn't understand how they work. Cashier takes two $2.00 coupons for your one tube of Dentifrice and gives you two dollars out of the drawer. The store is not going to be reimbursed for that second coupon, because the item was not sold and shit isn't going to match up on the reconciliation. So congratulations. You've stolen two dollars from a store. Or same scenario, bad register, unaware employee, "here's two dollars back." This time, however, the manufacturer of Dentifrice just blindly reimburses the value of all coupons turned in. Well, then, you fucking tool, good job, you just stole $2.00 from the Dentifrice company. If you're going to steal, do retail workers everywhere a favor and just steal the damn product. It's less paperwork for all of us. And, extra bonus, if we catch you stealing physical merchandise, we can have you arrested. And that's a good source of entertainment.

You Taking Advantage of Somebody Willing to Help You Doesn't Make that Person Weak. It Makes You an Asshole.

My intention for today's entry is to bitch about assholes who "borrow" money and how they need to be removed from our lives. I feel like it's going to get away from me and turn into a whole rant about bullshit "friend" behavior.

I used to work with this girl, who we'll call CeeCee. CeeCee was awkward, but a nice enough person. We spoke on the phone outside of work a few times, but never once did we hang out socially. Ultimately, I left that job, taking a different job from which I essentially brought home no paycheck but secured health insurance for myself and my partner. Everybody knew this was why I was leaving. To reiterate, I was essentially taking our two income home down to a one income home. I was personally banking about $10 a week after the cost of insurance.

So I left the first job. I heard nothing from anybody from the old job for a while. Nothing on Facebook. No phone calls. No big deal. I accepted that this likely meant they were just not going to be a part of my life anymore. That happens with workmates sometimes. Well, after about two months, I got out of work and found I had a voicemail. CeeCee, from the old job, had called to ask me to loan her $40. Now, I'll admit, I was kind of a jerk this time and didn't return her call. Fast forward a few years, and I receive another voicemail from her. I can't discuss too many details without revealing who she is, but in vague terms, she told me about something bad that had happened and that she needed some help, financially. I expressly told her I was working two jobs and could barely make ends meet, so I personally couldn't help much, but I did organize some fundraising efforts for her in this difficult situation. I offered all sorts of friendship and emotional support. I offered to be with her at the "event" for which she needed this financial assistance. She wound up not telling me when the "event" was to occur and never having a conversation with me about it after. In fact, I didn't hear from her again until about a week ago. When she called to ask me to loan her money. Because she got a second a job. And was getting paid that very day. But needed to borrow money for gas to get to work? Um, no. Needless to say, this phone call was not returned and I have made no attempts to contact her since.

I also had this friend who we'll call Jerk Ass Man, or simply JAM. A little less than a year ago, while I was working two jobs IN ADDITION TO my freelance work and pet-sitting gigs and was having a hard time making ends meet, JAM fucked up, caused a minor auto accident, didn't report it, was arrested, blah blah blah. Well, JAM has some issues with depression, and so has a hard time in difficult situations. I was afraid JAM would harm himself if left in jail, so I bailed him out. He was considered a flight risk, so it cost over $750 to get him released. I told him at the time that I understood he wouldn't be able to pay me back in cash, but I absolutely needed restitution for this amount of money - chores, cash here and there, food when it was left over, etc. He reimbursed me for about $20 and spent about 10 minutes helping my mother with a task. After that, he told me he had no intention of paying me back any further. I've considered taking him to small claims court. I'm still thinking about taking him to small claims court. Is $700 going to be the difference between me having a home or not? No. Is that an acceptable fucking thing to do? HELL NO. He recently sent me a text message saying that he was sorry for comments he had made about my weight. My response was basically "You don't have the type of power over me that would make me feel badly about myself because you can't accept my appearance. But if you truly feel badly about it GIVE ME MY MONEY BACK!" Was I perhaps harsh with this? Yeah, maybe. But it shouldn't need to be said! If I can barely make ends meet, you shouldn't be taking three weeks' pay from me and running away! JAM's response, btw, was the unfriend me on Facebook. Yep. My feelings are really hurt. I see the error of my ways in asking for my money back. I'm clearly in the wrong. Oh, wait. The opposite of that.

So, basically, this gets me thinking about the nature of friendships. If I only hear from you when you need money, you really just need to get the fuck out of my life. I mean, way, way, far out of my life. This is not at all the same as me saying if somebody I love who is beneficial to my life hits a roadbump, I won't help. If my best friend, who lives on the other side of the country now, called and said there was a family emergency and she needed to fly home, but couldn't afford the ticket, I would absolutely help her get home. But she also does stupid/awesome shit with me like talking to me on the phone when I'm really tired and have a long drive. And I wouldn't expect her to pay me back the cost of the ticket, because I know she'll be there for me in the future. Can you, dear readers, spot the major differences in these scenarios? (Also, love you, Jocelyn!)

So, some basic tips for interacting with people, even if they are being expressed a little incoherently because I'm tired, in pain, and distracted by the delightful horror movie marathon on my television, are:

• If you want to keep somebody in your life, keep them in your life. Don't just call them when you need something. If you choose to be that type of person, don't expect to have people that want you around.
• Everybody needs something from somebody at some point. Good people understand that. If somebody helps you with something big, acknowledge it. You may not be able to reciprocate in the exact form of the help, but do something. Did somebody pay $700 to bail you out of jail? At least say "thank you." Collect cans on the side of the road and give them the change you receive from turning them in. Give them the JoAnn's Fabrics coupons you get in the mail. Don't fucking hack their Netflix account, rate the bullshit movies you watch to fuck up their taste profile, ask them to buy you lunch, and then clearly express you have no intention of paying them back.
• You taking advantage of somebody who is willing to help you doesn't make that person stupid or weak. It makes you an asshole. 
• Fuck this nonsense, I'm calling my attorney and taking the bastard to small claims court.