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.
Monday, November 4, 2013
Friday, November 1, 2013
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:
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.
Monday, October 21, 2013
A Day in the Life of a (Bad) Freelance Writer
12:00 AM - Whoo-hoo! Only half an hour left until I can leave my "day" job. Wonder if it's still called a "Day Job" if you work overnights?...
12:30 AM - Whooooo! Up yours, work!
1:00 AM - Why is this drive so long?!
1:15 AM - Yay, home! I'm going to make dinner, then I'm going to get to writing!
2:00 AM - Just one more rerun of 30 Rock that I've seen several times, then I'm going to write
3:00 AM - ....Damn. Oooh, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia! I'll half-assedly do research during commercials.
3:30 AM - Ring! Ooh, boyfriend's on the phone. I'll just talk to him until he gets home, then work!
5:00 AM - Shit. We've been on the phone for an hour and a half. Eh, I have tomorrow off. I'll just write a lot when I get up. Time to knit while watching Doctor Who!
6:00 AM - Fall asleep on the couch.
2:00 PM - Hmmm....I should get up. Well, I don't get a lot of sleep on days I do work. Maybe I'll sleep for a little while longer....
3:00 PM - Discuss financial difficulties with boyfriend. Decide financial difficulties would be less difficult if I would just buckle the fuck down and write more. And if we got less carry out. Oooh, carry out...
4:00 PM - Write for about twenty minutes.
4:20 PM - Distracted by cat. Play with cat.
5:00 PM - Talk to Mom on the phone.
6:00 PM - Talk to boyfriend on phone while he drives to work
7:00 PM - Well, really, Chinese take-out makes more fiscal sense than cooking for one. By the time I buy chicken and rice and veggies, it costs more to make the one meal than the $10 take-out that I can get three meals out of...
8:00 PM - Yay, eating Chinese food!
8:30 PM - Fucking seriously, go write.
8:35 PM - I'll just look at the new health insurance information from work.
9:00 PM - Have a total fucking meltdown over how frustrating and confusing the new health plan is. Bitch at internet group.
10:00 PM - Yoga
10:45 PM - Damn, I miss having a gym membership.... No, you're not going for a walk right now. WRITE SOMETHING!
10:55 PM - Blogging? Really, dumbass?! You're fucking blogging?! YOU DON'T GET PAID FOR THIS SHIT!
11:15 PM - Good job! You've wasted most of an entire day!
12:30 AM - Whooooo! Up yours, work!
1:00 AM - Why is this drive so long?!
1:15 AM - Yay, home! I'm going to make dinner, then I'm going to get to writing!
2:00 AM - Just one more rerun of 30 Rock that I've seen several times, then I'm going to write
3:00 AM - ....Damn. Oooh, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia! I'll half-assedly do research during commercials.
3:30 AM - Ring! Ooh, boyfriend's on the phone. I'll just talk to him until he gets home, then work!
5:00 AM - Shit. We've been on the phone for an hour and a half. Eh, I have tomorrow off. I'll just write a lot when I get up. Time to knit while watching Doctor Who!
6:00 AM - Fall asleep on the couch.
2:00 PM - Hmmm....I should get up. Well, I don't get a lot of sleep on days I do work. Maybe I'll sleep for a little while longer....
3:00 PM - Discuss financial difficulties with boyfriend. Decide financial difficulties would be less difficult if I would just buckle the fuck down and write more. And if we got less carry out. Oooh, carry out...
4:00 PM - Write for about twenty minutes.
4:20 PM - Distracted by cat. Play with cat.
5:00 PM - Talk to Mom on the phone.
6:00 PM - Talk to boyfriend on phone while he drives to work
7:00 PM - Well, really, Chinese take-out makes more fiscal sense than cooking for one. By the time I buy chicken and rice and veggies, it costs more to make the one meal than the $10 take-out that I can get three meals out of...
8:00 PM - Yay, eating Chinese food!
8:30 PM - Fucking seriously, go write.
8:35 PM - I'll just look at the new health insurance information from work.
9:00 PM - Have a total fucking meltdown over how frustrating and confusing the new health plan is. Bitch at internet group.
10:00 PM - Yoga
10:45 PM - Damn, I miss having a gym membership.... No, you're not going for a walk right now. WRITE SOMETHING!
10:55 PM - Blogging? Really, dumbass?! You're fucking blogging?! YOU DON'T GET PAID FOR THIS SHIT!
11:15 PM - Good job! You've wasted most of an entire day!
Dear Peach...
Dear Peach,
My human came home tonight and lamented that she forgot to purchase paper towels but she could probably do without any until tomorrow. I promptly vomited all over the floor. Hahahahahahaha.
Banana
My human came home tonight and lamented that she forgot to purchase paper towels but she could probably do without any until tomorrow. I promptly vomited all over the floor. Hahahahahahaha.
Banana
Saturday, October 19, 2013
JERK TIPS FOR CATS!!
Day One
I don't know your name, but I liked your message. I think it is very funny the way you run out of your person's home and make her chase you down the stairs. I think you and I have a lot to learn from each other. I like to poop on the floor when I don't get the attention I deserve. That makes my person really mad. It makes me laugh. I mean, as much as I can. I don't think the people recognize it as a laugh. That makes it even more fun for me, because those idiots have no idea what's going on. Hahahahahaha.
Love, Peach the Cat
Day Two
Peach,
You can call me Banana. Your idea of pooping on the floor is quite funny. I'll have to try that some time. It was quite clever of you to jump in my person's laptop bag and leave me that message via pheromones. I didn't know that we could communicate such complex, intangible ideas in such a way! One of the things I like to do is scream. I just follow my person around her apartment, screaming. She thinks I'm trying to communicate that I want food, which I do. Food is good. But really, I just like to scream because it's fun. That might be another way we can communicate. When my person calls your person and they do that annoying thing where they both make their talking devices loud and talk at it without picking it up (I think I've heard your person ask if mine is using a "Speaker phone" or something like that), we can talk that way too. Even if we don't communicate that way, I highly recommend screaming at your person. All the time.
AUGH!
Banana Cat
Day Three
Ring
Man: Hello, sweetie!
Woman: Hi, honey.
Peach: MEOW!
Banana: MEOW! MEOW! MEOW!
Peach: MEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!!!
Banana: MEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!! MEOW!
Woman: I swear they're talking to each other....
I don't know your name, but I liked your message. I think it is very funny the way you run out of your person's home and make her chase you down the stairs. I think you and I have a lot to learn from each other. I like to poop on the floor when I don't get the attention I deserve. That makes my person really mad. It makes me laugh. I mean, as much as I can. I don't think the people recognize it as a laugh. That makes it even more fun for me, because those idiots have no idea what's going on. Hahahahahaha.
Love, Peach the Cat
Day Two
Peach,
You can call me Banana. Your idea of pooping on the floor is quite funny. I'll have to try that some time. It was quite clever of you to jump in my person's laptop bag and leave me that message via pheromones. I didn't know that we could communicate such complex, intangible ideas in such a way! One of the things I like to do is scream. I just follow my person around her apartment, screaming. She thinks I'm trying to communicate that I want food, which I do. Food is good. But really, I just like to scream because it's fun. That might be another way we can communicate. When my person calls your person and they do that annoying thing where they both make their talking devices loud and talk at it without picking it up (I think I've heard your person ask if mine is using a "Speaker phone" or something like that), we can talk that way too. Even if we don't communicate that way, I highly recommend screaming at your person. All the time.
AUGH!
Banana Cat
Day Three
Ring
Man: Hello, sweetie!
Woman: Hi, honey.
Peach: MEOW!
Banana: MEOW! MEOW! MEOW!
Peach: MEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!!!
Banana: MEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!! MEOW!
Woman: I swear they're talking to each other....
Friday, September 27, 2013
Public Restroom Decorum
I can think of nothing that tempts to punch strangers in the face harder than encounters in a public restroom. I mean, goddamn, people are disgusting and obnoxious.
First off, I think it should be illegal to not wash your hands after using the restroom. I think this should be regarded an act of bioterrorism. Because seriously, what do you call it when someone rubs biohazardous substances with a thin sheet of paper with their bare hands then walks around touching common surfaces, spreading the biohazard all over? Seriously, Mandy Patinkin, get on this shit.
A lot of people realize that things in the loo are disgusting. The paper towel dispenser is not an exception to this. Different people have different tactics for getting their paper towel without resoiling their freshly washed hands. I, for example, use the lever on the dispenser to roll about two inches of towel out, wash my hands, rip off that short bit of towel, use it to dispense some more towel, throw out the first bit, dry my hands on the second portion of towel, turn off the sink with the towel, use said towel to open the door, then throw the towel in the trash. Sound pedantic? I'm actually skipping steps. I should dispense, wash, dispense, dry, dispense, turn off sink, dispense, open door.
So, here's the silly set up in the ladies room at work. There are two sinks. One sink has these lovely, long handles that you turn on and then, gasp, turn off when you're done. We'll call this Good Sink. The other is one of those monstrosities that you push the handle down on and it pops up whenever it damn well feels like it, so you have to keep turning the water on. And if you're OCD like me, that's fucking horrible, because you can't adequately wash your hands when you have to keep touching a dirty sink handle. Good Sink is on the right. Horrible Bacteria Time Loop Disaster in on the right. Next to the paper towel dispenser. So, here's a common scenario. I pop into the washroom to wash my hands, roll down the two inches of towel, start washing my hands. Some nasty, dirty person comes out of the stall, goes to HBTLD, splashes some cold water on her hands, takes my towel, and leaves without rolling more down for me. Or nasty, dirty person comes out, splashes cold water on her hands, then stands directly in front of the paper towel dispenser, poking at her eye makeup with her unclean hands, essentially just rubbing her ass all over the clean bit of towel I have hanging down. Incorrect Behavior. Correct Behavior: Step out of the stall, see somebody washing her hands, with a bit of paper towel hanging down from the dispenser. Common sense dictates that she's going to use that bit of paper towel to dispense more towel in a quasi-sanitary method. The woman in front of you was already washing her hands, so logic dictates she's probably almost done. Stand the fuck back, wait your goddamn turn, and don't touch her stuff. It's already awkward enough that you and this stranger were likely peeing at the same time, four feet apart. Don't impede her hand washing. Or, say she is particularly obsessive-compulsive and is taking five minutes to wash her hands instead of one. Hop onto HBTLD, wash your hands, use the towel, and ADVANCE MORE FUCKING TOWEL.
If you happen to be the person washing your hands whilst somebody is behind you waiting, leave the water running for them. It saves you having to figure out how to touch that disgusting faucet and acknowledges the other person's welcomeness to join in the fun that is handwashing.
Sometimes, people accidentally get some urine on the seat. There is a quite simple solution to this problem. Take a piece of toilet paper, and wipe the seat! When you piss all over the place and don't bother to clean up, you're basically just screaming "I'm disgusting!" And seriously, fuck you, disgusting people. I would hate to step foot in your home if you're so lazy and gross you can't even wipe up something that came out of your body. How fucking dare you suggest that somebody else clean up your bodily fluids? Pig bitch.
Ladies, your period sucks. I've been there; I get it. However, the situation sucking does not make it okay for you not to dispose of crap covered in your blood in an improper fashion. Yes, I'm not a moron. I do know it's not really blood. But I don't want to repeatedly type "Discharged uterine lining" so fucking deal. So, let's go over a list of gross stuff nobody should ever see in a public restroom:
-A tampon on the floor
- A pad that somebody has attempted to flush down the toilet
-A pad on the floor
-A pad/tampon sitting ON TOP of the trash can in the stall
-Blood. Anywhere. Ever.
-A pad/tampon sitting on top of the toilet paper dispenser
-A bloody pad/tampon in the trashcan, but unwrapped and at the top of the trashcan, so there's no possible way to put anything else in it or even change the liner without an extreme likelihood of touching some strange cunt's blood.
The proper response to the unfortunate situation of having to change your feminine hygiene materials in a public restroom are to remove it, wrap it in either toilet paper or a wrapper, and place it in the trashcan. Assuming the trash can has a hinged lid, close the trash can. Then wash your hands.
It's like kindergarten. Pick up after yourself, be considerate of others, and wash your fucking hands.
First off, I think it should be illegal to not wash your hands after using the restroom. I think this should be regarded an act of bioterrorism. Because seriously, what do you call it when someone rubs biohazardous substances with a thin sheet of paper with their bare hands then walks around touching common surfaces, spreading the biohazard all over? Seriously, Mandy Patinkin, get on this shit.
A lot of people realize that things in the loo are disgusting. The paper towel dispenser is not an exception to this. Different people have different tactics for getting their paper towel without resoiling their freshly washed hands. I, for example, use the lever on the dispenser to roll about two inches of towel out, wash my hands, rip off that short bit of towel, use it to dispense some more towel, throw out the first bit, dry my hands on the second portion of towel, turn off the sink with the towel, use said towel to open the door, then throw the towel in the trash. Sound pedantic? I'm actually skipping steps. I should dispense, wash, dispense, dry, dispense, turn off sink, dispense, open door.
So, here's the silly set up in the ladies room at work. There are two sinks. One sink has these lovely, long handles that you turn on and then, gasp, turn off when you're done. We'll call this Good Sink. The other is one of those monstrosities that you push the handle down on and it pops up whenever it damn well feels like it, so you have to keep turning the water on. And if you're OCD like me, that's fucking horrible, because you can't adequately wash your hands when you have to keep touching a dirty sink handle. Good Sink is on the right. Horrible Bacteria Time Loop Disaster in on the right. Next to the paper towel dispenser. So, here's a common scenario. I pop into the washroom to wash my hands, roll down the two inches of towel, start washing my hands. Some nasty, dirty person comes out of the stall, goes to HBTLD, splashes some cold water on her hands, takes my towel, and leaves without rolling more down for me. Or nasty, dirty person comes out, splashes cold water on her hands, then stands directly in front of the paper towel dispenser, poking at her eye makeup with her unclean hands, essentially just rubbing her ass all over the clean bit of towel I have hanging down. Incorrect Behavior. Correct Behavior: Step out of the stall, see somebody washing her hands, with a bit of paper towel hanging down from the dispenser. Common sense dictates that she's going to use that bit of paper towel to dispense more towel in a quasi-sanitary method. The woman in front of you was already washing her hands, so logic dictates she's probably almost done. Stand the fuck back, wait your goddamn turn, and don't touch her stuff. It's already awkward enough that you and this stranger were likely peeing at the same time, four feet apart. Don't impede her hand washing. Or, say she is particularly obsessive-compulsive and is taking five minutes to wash her hands instead of one. Hop onto HBTLD, wash your hands, use the towel, and ADVANCE MORE FUCKING TOWEL.
If you happen to be the person washing your hands whilst somebody is behind you waiting, leave the water running for them. It saves you having to figure out how to touch that disgusting faucet and acknowledges the other person's welcomeness to join in the fun that is handwashing.
Sometimes, people accidentally get some urine on the seat. There is a quite simple solution to this problem. Take a piece of toilet paper, and wipe the seat! When you piss all over the place and don't bother to clean up, you're basically just screaming "I'm disgusting!" And seriously, fuck you, disgusting people. I would hate to step foot in your home if you're so lazy and gross you can't even wipe up something that came out of your body. How fucking dare you suggest that somebody else clean up your bodily fluids? Pig bitch.
Ladies, your period sucks. I've been there; I get it. However, the situation sucking does not make it okay for you not to dispose of crap covered in your blood in an improper fashion. Yes, I'm not a moron. I do know it's not really blood. But I don't want to repeatedly type "Discharged uterine lining" so fucking deal. So, let's go over a list of gross stuff nobody should ever see in a public restroom:
-A tampon on the floor
- A pad that somebody has attempted to flush down the toilet
-A pad on the floor
-A pad/tampon sitting ON TOP of the trash can in the stall
-Blood. Anywhere. Ever.
-A pad/tampon sitting on top of the toilet paper dispenser
-A bloody pad/tampon in the trashcan, but unwrapped and at the top of the trashcan, so there's no possible way to put anything else in it or even change the liner without an extreme likelihood of touching some strange cunt's blood.
The proper response to the unfortunate situation of having to change your feminine hygiene materials in a public restroom are to remove it, wrap it in either toilet paper or a wrapper, and place it in the trashcan. Assuming the trash can has a hinged lid, close the trash can. Then wash your hands.
It's like kindergarten. Pick up after yourself, be considerate of others, and wash your fucking hands.
Friday, September 20, 2013
Stupid Laws are Stupid
I live in a state in which it is against the law to not use a seat belt while in the front seat of the car. Adults are not legally compelled to use a seat belt in the back seat. Does everybody understand this? It's not just that it is highly recommended to wear a seat belt; it is a ticketable offense. Because seat belts save lives. Seat belts hold a person to the seat of their car, which is almost always fully enclosed (silly convertibles) so that they do not become a human projectile and fly through the windshield. As a state, we grew tired of people dying from such a silly act of negligence, and made it a law.
However, the stupid fucking state I live in recently made it legal for motorcyclists to not wear helmets. A person on a big bike driving 70-plus miles per hour, with no encasing to catch them should something happen, with a high likelihood of becoming a human projectile, is not required to wear or utilize any protective equipment.
Driving to work today, I saw one of the men who chooses to ride his motorcycle without a helmet. Zipping down the expressway at 80 miles per hour. No helmet. Shorts and T-shirt. Dude. I mean. C'mon. Let's say your bike just falls over. You're going to burn the shit out of your leg. Let's say your bike falls over and slides a ways. Goodbye, ALL of your skin. And Science forbid, you do go flying off your bike...
I...just...no. Just no.
However, the stupid fucking state I live in recently made it legal for motorcyclists to not wear helmets. A person on a big bike driving 70-plus miles per hour, with no encasing to catch them should something happen, with a high likelihood of becoming a human projectile, is not required to wear or utilize any protective equipment.
Driving to work today, I saw one of the men who chooses to ride his motorcycle without a helmet. Zipping down the expressway at 80 miles per hour. No helmet. Shorts and T-shirt. Dude. I mean. C'mon. Let's say your bike just falls over. You're going to burn the shit out of your leg. Let's say your bike falls over and slides a ways. Goodbye, ALL of your skin. And Science forbid, you do go flying off your bike...
I...just...no. Just no.
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