| Hey, insult me a little more. |
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| 05:11pm 14/09/2009 |
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mood:  seriously? music: Fiona Apple - "Angel" [Hendrix cover]
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As a clerk in a place of business that sells lottery items, I find there are many things that drive me insane when it comes to gambling. For instance: last week a couple came into the store. They brought up about $10 worth of grocery items and wanted to pay for the purchase using food stamps. Now, I know it's tough, being told that somewhere you're shopping doesn't participate in the electronic benefit program, blah blah blah. It's no fun for me to tell you that we can't accept your form of payment. Trust me. But, this woman gets so absolutely upset. She's outraged. Insists that there are other stores that take the card. The whole tirade. Which I've heard before, and I can answer to, and I can tell you exactly why we don't take your government funded debit card. So, they begrudgingly pay in cash. After this whole ordeal, they proceed to buy $100 worth of scratch-off tickets. Now, here I am, behind a counter, working my sorry, low-income ass for almost ten hours a day, six days a week. I am behind this counter, making a ridiculously small paycheck, and a third of that paycheck is taken away. A third of what I've worked hard for, and part of that is going to you. To pay for your food. That you can't afford, because you're on the other side of my counter, blowing a good portion of what I make a week, buying instant tickets. You have some fucking nerve. And you make me fucking sick. Give me one good reason why your lottery purchase is justified. Because I have half a mind to refuse that sale. It's a damn good thing I don't work in the city, because I don't think I could take this sort of brazen shit every damn day. |
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| Corporate Hell Care cost me my home!! |
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| 12:46am 26/08/2009 |
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mood:  tired
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Today, at work, of all places, I was approached by a man, who will herein be known as "Fred." Fred touts his political views rather freely. But we should all agree that this is alright. We, as Americans have the right to solicit our views without persecution, or hell, even prosecution. (Maybe even without execution? .....annnnyway...) So I'm cool with this, so long as it doesn't interfere with my completion of duties, or our general business atmosphere. I mean, it's a free country, right? So, Fred walks in and asks me about my views on the disputed health care system reform. It's an innocent question, no doubt, however, that Fred is trying to initiate a debate. I essentially brush the instigation aside and save his "talking points" list for later. I don't tend to go for political debates. I find myself not heavily opinionated and often speaking with people who are ignorant, biased, or misinformed. And these people tend to wear blinders. Which, troubles me to no end. I know you need to be strong in your views, but I also realize that your arguments cannot have fictitious foundations. I read the propaganda after work, and I'm going to include it here, under a cut, so you can get the jist of what I'm saying. Fred told me to study it, and get my facts straight. (Also noteworthy, I have changed none of the punctuation, formatting, spelling, or grammar in the following list.)
( Read more... )
Okay, now onto bigger and better things. The list starts off legitimately enough. Truly, France has what would appear to be a better health care system. They did, in fact, rank first in that WHO study where the USA was 37th. Congratulations? Then we move on to the more asinine statements, claiming insurance companies make things complicated so people give up. Yes, it's not the simplest thing in the world to file claims. Yes, you are getting run around. Yes, people give up. Because they don't have the drive to do something for themselves. And I'm sure the companies do thrive on this. But it probably has a lot to do with the fact that they know their customers. And they know that their customers are lazy. Otherwise, we'd be clipping coupons, and filing rebates, and doing our taxes ourselves. But hey, guess what? We don't. Because we're lazy. And you're stupid if you think that a for-profit organization is going to take pity on you. Also, have you read the terms of your insurance contract? They tend to give you every reason for why you can and can't do certain things. You didn't get bent over by the company, you just didn't understand what you signed into. And I'm willing to bet that you didn't explore many, if any of the other options that would have been available to you. That would have taken time. Meanwhile, way to hint that Republicans are Satan and slaveholders and all that good stuff. Because that makes you seem very educated, and very well-informed. I'm not sure what you were going for with that. Were you just trying to conjure up images that enrage people? Or were you legitimately comparing these corporations to fallen angels and bigoted businessmen?
When did the people of this country become whining, dependent, pathetic, cripples? Do you really need your government to take care of you forever? Do you need them to decide when you can have Tylenol, and whether or not you're having a baby? You'll allow them to tell you who can marry, and what benefit you get based on your choice? You need them around to hold your hand when you cross the street (or ocean) and tell you what you can smoke and what you can drink, and where you can go? Do you want to have your every breath audited? Will you feel safer, knowing that a record of your every shit is being kept by the people for whom you have voted? This is a damn Twitter nation, where everyone knows everything about everyone at every given instant, and you're okay with this. For some reason, you have turned over your independence. You have given back everything that your ancestors fought for. You no longer have the right to choose. Yet, you continue to fight against everyone and everything, as if you still have a choice.
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Read 1 - Post |
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| capital letters need not apply |
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| 01:24am 16/07/2009 |
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mood:  amused music: MGMT
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so, i'm on myspace tonight. i'm pretty sure no one uses it much anymore, but for some reason, we still all check in on a regular basis. anyhow, i get this message from some tattoo "artist" and it goes something like this:
how r u? im Krill im in belvue area of schenectady and i do tattoo's and im alot cheaper than every tattoo shop around. this pic below is a piece i just did today for $50, please check out my site and send a friend request if u like wat i do. and feel free to hit me up anytime-thanks, its nice to meet you
i'm so impressed with this message. i mean, pristine grammar, immaculate spelling, such wonderfully creative use of abbreviations, i'm in awe. so naturally, i am compelled to investigate his page. upon reaching this wonder of all wonders, i find....well....exactly what i was expecting. there is, really, no evidence that this guy actually has some sort of parlor. his profile provides no information, no accreditation, no licensing or address, and really not much of a portfolio. from what i have seen, it appears that most of his work is from flash. the line quality is terrible. the value work is of debatable quality. hell, the artwork itself isn't even all that hot. it reminds me a lot of prison tattoos actually. now, i'm not one to tear down someone's art, someone's personal expressions, or crafts. however -- i feel that this kind of work, done from home (hypothetically speaking), in a visibly amateur fashion, is best saved for the canvases of your friends' flesh. i don't care if your idiot friends want some unprofessional hack leaving permanent scars on their bodies. but seriously, don't peddle your services to me. i'm not some underage kid, who can't legally be tattooed, looking for a friend of a friend to practice on me.
thanks.
but no thanks. |
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| Gentlemen, start your engines. |
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| 01:17am 05/07/2009 |
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mood:  content music: "I Go Back" - Kenny Chesney
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You come home, crack a Bud -- it might be your third or forth...or more -- and start up a fire. Your face, at least the left side, is caked in dust. Every time you breathe it smells like mud, and racing fuel. Your arteries are thanking you for that cheeseburger and fries. You're a veteran of hovering in the ladies' room. The adrenaline is still rushing through your veins and there's a constant ringing in your ears, as you hold on to those fading memories of engines vying for victory. Nothing can make you feel alive like those bold numbers flying through the dirt on the weekend. Hometown boys sure know how to put on a show, so let's go racing.
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| Whatever. |
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| 06:41pm 29/06/2009 |
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My mother said she warts me to want something for my birthday.
Except I don't. She says I should want something special.
and I don't. And so, apparently I need to want something.
So now what? They want me to want to go out to dinner, or
"Do Something." They don't want to give me money, But they
want me to give them ideas. Except where l don't want
anything. I think I'll just drink all day, and get
my hair done. yup. Happy Birthday. |
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| Scribble Scribble Scribble |
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| 01:42pm 23/06/2009 |
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Why can other people do things with limited image creation tools that I can't? I must practice, and learn, and grow. And now I'm off to work for an exciting day of mindless labor.
Hey...the proportions are almost right....maybe I should just be a cartoonist.
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| Of Casual Mondays and Lotto Scratchoffs |
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| 04:07pm 15/06/2009 |
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I went to Price Chopper today to buy french fries. Pre-made, frozen, you know the deal. So anyway, I'm in the frozen food aisle, wearing what I woke up in. This ensemble includes a pair of plaid pajama pants and a hot pink babydoll tee, which is highly professional and something you would love to wear out in public at three in the afternoon. Anyway, some guy shuffles up to me pushing his little cart and says, "I'm looking for frozen waffles; do you work here?" And to this moment I have no idea what made him think that I worked there or was even working at that very instant. Maybe all young people work at grocery stores in their bedclothes?
Also, I've decided that I hate people who gamble on scratch-offs. Or rather, just the ignorant ones. They always insist that it's a scam. That the odds of winning are apparently set in stone. That if there's a 1:5 chance of winning, they'll have a winner if they buy five tickets, and that they'll always come up ahead. And if they don't, it's just *obvious* that the state is jacking them and running some cracked underground scheme to take their money. NEWSFLASH: How about you just not buy the tickets? You're never guaranteed a winner. You could buy tickets everyday for your whole life and never see a dollar back. Odds are that's not going to happen, but it *is* entirely possible. I'm sick of people telling me, as I sit behind the counter in a gas station, that they *know* how to buy winning tickets. They insist that there's some outside appearance fluke that proves it's a winner. The number on the ticket has to be right, or there's a printing error that shows up on the card, or the game book number is a specific number. And not once have I seen this played out, but they still insist again and again. My favorite was a woman who came in and asked about the ticket numbers on two separate books. One book was at number 47 out of 100 and one was at number 1 of 100. She said, "I'll take 47 because I never win on the last ticket in a book." And I asked her how many times she won on number 47. Because guess what, lady? You have the same 1:5 chance to win on number 47 as you do on ticket 100 and ticket 1. |
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| Half Baked |
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| 09:26am 11/06/2009 |
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My mother's birthday is today. I wanted to get her a toaster oven. Ours is mucho ancient. Like, vintage Black and Decker Toast-R-Oven, faux wood grain, grease spots, overheating plug, and multi-purpose toaster/baker/reheater/creepy crawler and shrinky-dink maker. This Toast-R-Oven is the kitchen appliance that got me through it all, the defining characteristic of my childhood. Aaaaand, it's not in the best of condition visually. HOWever, it works almost like new, it's just so outdated. Except, that I looked at the newer Black and Deckers, the "classic" models, and they're all so chintzy. Shoddy workmanship, flimsy parts, "heat-proof" plastic. I swear the doors look like they'd fall off if used on a day-to-day basis. The knobs feel like cheap toys, the hooks on the door that pull out the rack get caught when you try to close the door, and the crumb tray is about as manageable as a sheet of aluminum foil.
Seriously? When did crap get so cheap?
Mommy, I'm buying you scratch-offs instead. At least they have half a chance.
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Read 2 - Post |
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| The collective masses don't waste no time |
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| 06:40pm 02/05/2009 |
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Not even five minutes after the finish of the Kentucky Derby, Calvin Borel's entry in Wikipedia had been updated with the results of the race. All I wanted to know is how old he was, and if he was from Louisiana. Since, well, we had a bet going based on his accent...which I won. But seriously, who waits around for this stuff to happen? |
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| Today a little girl waved at me from the sidewalk |
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| 07:55am 18/04/2009 |
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mood:  sick
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My aunt wanted to go shopping I guess, with my grandmother and my mother. My mother is telling me this, adding, "She probably wants to go shopping with pleasant people." Except, well, she really isn't. Mom is under this misguided notion that everything wrong with the world is other people. Anything they do is wrong, anything they want is privileged. That person at the service counter complaining about their return is a spoiled yuppie; they couldn't be someone who is receiving poor service ans is just as frustrated as she would be. The guy cutting her off in traffic is just an asshole, not someone who is finally taking initiative because of her indecisiveness. The problem I see here is not the people, or the public, or those fun anonymous masses, but her outlook on these. And, I'm thinking my boyfriend has the same tunnel-vision. I'm not saying that they aren't both wonderful, caring, and generally pleasant people at all. But they look out and see the problems, and the flaws and everything that goes against their own opinions. And, they complain about these things. Which, doesn't really make them all that pleasant to be around. Just this morning Mom was complaining about how other neighbors' garbage cans were overflowing with trash and she was within regulation and paying the same amount to follow the rules, unlike they. Okay? so? Let it go, it isn't your problem, I don't know why you have an issue with it. I wish she wouldn't criticize everyone, and moreover, I wish she wouldn't expect me to see the same things. I do my best to have an open mind and not jump to conclusions, and not judge people on outward appearances and mannerisms. I mean, yes I judge, but I don't denounce a person's character because of the clothing they're wearing or the way they're acting. It doesn't make them a bad or good person and I have no right to make complaints about them. |
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| I hate the Cranberries |
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| 06:13am 15/04/2009 |
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I had a nightmare and I can't go back to sleep. Not only did it take place in a familiar home, but it involved a zombie. I don't do zombies. They chase and chase and they don't die and so they continue chasing and there's no rest and apparently my dreams have decided that they also cannot be held by doors. And so, in my completely unreasonable terror stemming from my one true fear, I am awake at six, after only 4 hours of sleep. |
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| These are a few |
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| 01:09am 26/03/2009 |
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mood:  featherlight music: "Come Softly to Me" - The Fleetwoods
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My favorite thing about Livejournal is reading through random journals. Especially through the "Writer's Block" answers, where you can see the differences in people's minds. You can see, side-by-side, the way people think differently and look at a question from a different angle. I like how people have such different styles of writing. It's so much better than say, being a TA and grading papers. Everything in a classroom is so structured. All the formalities make the writers seem timid. You don't see much variation in these papers, the rules are restricting and the products restrained. In journals, it's so much more personal, and you can see individuals' personalities. Some people write in fragments, some in paragraphs. There are run-on sentences, incorrect punctuation, people who don't use capitals -- ever, misspellings, and every other scholarly taboo. Some intentional, others unnoticed. There are bold statements and italicized exasperations, littered with emoticons, abbreviations, and acronyms. Some people think through their answers and give, what seems to be, a well-evaluated interpretative answer and the next user posts one sentence about their first thought, in just an effort to post something for the day.
I always want to leave random comments, and I'm pretty much too chicken.
Also, I was given a tip for a waitressing position today, so maybe they'll call me for a job.
I've always wanted to try waiting tables. People say it's a kinda bummer job, but I've always thought it looked fun. I'm stuck behind a counter all day. I'd much rather be running around trying to do ninety things at once. Especially when I'm so damn clumsy. I like working. Not working at a desk. That's crappy. I like interaction and multitasking and being in the moment, every moment. It feels wonderful.
My room smells like toast. |
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| Seven Sexytime Facts About Me |
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| 01:13am 23/03/2009 |
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Because no one reads this journal anyway. And because it's on my mind.
People with goals turn me on. No joke, I listened to someone talk about his aspirations and it was really hot. The people I fall for tend to be goal-oriented and driven. Looks don't matter so much, except the look in their eyes when they talk about what they want from life.
I don't like vibrators, but a water jet is the most wonderful invention ever.
I had my nipples pierced for three glorious years and taking them out was really hard for me. I did it for my boyfriend, who wasn't very fond of them. The reason I had them done in the first place was because I didn't like my boobs and thought they needed decoration, so I was pretty attached to them.
I masturbate in my sleep. There have been several times where I've been awakened due to an orgasm. Apparently my boyfriend had noticed this previously but never felt the need to tell me.
Playing a sport turns me on, especially when my boyfriend is playing it too. The adrenaline, the competetiveness, the sweat and strain are all very erotic. I like being pushed around.
I had sex in a pool once. And only once. The shower, the pool, the hot tub - it all seems very overhyped.
I take out my tongue ring when I give oral because it just gets in the way. I don't understand why people think it's hot, but I think I can do way better things with just my tongue and I can't see where a little ball would feel better.
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Read 10 - Post |
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| Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. |
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| 02:13pm 15/03/2009 |
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So, if you have an ex, who then goes on to date one of your friends, it's really difficult. Especially if he's a dick, and she's nice, and you know all this, and now he knows you both. Carnally. So, here I am now, with a dick ex-boyfriend with a small cock and what I believe to be a very nice, and increasingly passive-aggressive friend. I don't like the guy, I think he's awful. I don't like when we all go out together, because he just wants to stay home and drink. It's always too loud, or too crowded, or he's too tired. And he can't keep his mouth shut. Like, why compare the two of us? Do you think she cares how or where we did it, and do you think she's a fan of being told she doesn't give as good of a blowjob? That's horrible. No one wants to hear about ex-girlfriends, and especially if they're one of your friends. I wish he'd not talk about me, I wish she wouldn't bring it up. It's awkward, and it puts a bit of a strain on our friendship. Sorry I'm a slut, have a nice day.
Also, if you're going to have a verbally abusive boyfriend, make sure he has a decent sized cock, because it really isn't worth it otherwise. |
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| Eight. Zero. Five. Six. |
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| 11:41pm 08/03/2009 |
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The odds of having a given four-digit number occur when chosen randomly are one in ten thousand. Today, the New York lottery four digit number was the same for both midday and evening drawings. Things like this make me wonder if those stupid little balls blowing around in their tubes are actually random. But seriously, a number that has been drawn once in the last 5 years up until this point, is drawn twice in one day. Three thousand seven hundred and seventy-eight drawings and only one occurrence. And then twice in one day. That's five thousand dollars for every dollar put in. I wonder whose little dream came true today. |
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| You can't argue the Yankees |
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| 02:42am 12/02/2009 |
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In light of A-Rod's recent confessions regarding poor decision-making, and how he shouldn't be taken seriously since he's 'roided up like all the other MLB greats of the late 90s, I figured I'd post this enlightening conversation. I'm going to skip the beginning, which is where I state my thesis: that the Yankees aren't the best team in the MLB, and that, although they have been successful, I'm not a huge fan. Apparently you cannot argue against the Yankees to a Yankees fan because their fandom trumps everything so you are wrong. Always, no matter what your opinion. Sorry, but it's wrong. Very wrong. And also, you're stupid. Obviously.
*********: its telling you to shut the fuck up
*********: because you dont know what your talking about
ProzacSnoCones: yeah, you're right. I'm just a stupid girl
*********: those are your words
*********: mine are just your stupid
*********: period
ProzacSnoCones: period?
*********: punctuation
*********: .
*********: you know what that is?
*********: in other words your not stupid because your a girl like you were saying
*********: your just stupid.
ProzacSnoCones: I think that me being stupid is a very solid argument for the success of the yankees. you should go to law school or something
*********: No its a very solid statement for the argument that you tryed to use " oh the yankees by all their players must be nice to have a huge payrol " theyve fucking earned it please theyve won the most world fucking series and theyve earned that much money and they can buy whoever the fuck they want just like all the other teams do BECAUSE THATS PART OF THE GAME YOU RETARDED BITCH, IF IT WASNT IT WOULDNT BE ALOUD SO STOP YOUR BITCHING
*********: ROFL |
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Read 7 - Post |
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| Here is a story, all about how |
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| 03:13pm 04/02/2009 |
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...my laptop pretty much shit the bed. AKA the monitor is shot. And by "shot" I mean "the screen inverter needs to be replaced" By the way, I don't know how to do that, nor do I really want to on this dinosaur, because I'll get a new one before I'll spend $70 on a part. Y'know, when I can afford it (read: "never"). And, I want to back up some music and PSD files on a travel external.....but, wouldn't you know it, Dell-a-saurus Rex can't provide enough USB power to run said drive. And so, I have now ordered part X to remedy this. Meanwhile, I'm about to beat this thing senseless. And, all the people who keep asking why I'm not just rebuilding it. Do I look like the kind of person who knows how to rebuild a shitty laptop? I can barely figure out the difference between a bus port and a train station. *hopeless*
So, I just hooked up an old monitor, and now I have a spiffy new desktop PC. |
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| Job-searching is no fun |
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| 04:26am 29/01/2009 |
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In elementary school, and junior high, and high school, and college we wrote resumes. Why? No freaking clue. Something about preparing us for high school/college/the real world. Uh huh, well. Nothing they taught us has ever applied. Except for the name-at-the-top part. That was pretty consistent across the board. But that whole skills and interests section? Yeah, no one wants to know how many years I took Spanish courses, or that I like to read in my free time. Hell, they don't even want to know that I was a summer employee at the local Macy's or that I washed dishes at the dining hall sophomore year. Totally irrelevant. None of my life ever relates to where I want to direct it.
So, I'm putting together this resume, and trying to resist the urge to be cynical and crass. Obviously, I know that I can't inject snide remarks into something that my livelihood depends on. *initiate defense mechanisms* But honestly, do I have any relevant skills? "Um, I'd like to work in your office, all cooped up in the corner. I'm a college dropout, and an amateur blogger, but I have great people skills and I make a mean banana split. I can also execute more complicated, two-step instructions. " Yeah, I don't see that going well. It's tough to fabricate awesomeness. And by fabricate, I mean emphasize my good points and not the thoroughly evidenced overwhelming tendency toward failure. I think I'm a good person....I didn't mean to not like school, I just prefer menial work. It's incredibly hard to piece together courses that I actually finished, into something resembling a learning experience. I'm thinking it's a lot like salvaging from a house that burned to the ground. It was a good effort, but obviously didn't work out. I mean, hey, there's some good material in there, you just have to find it. I think it was Information Tech Literacy that taught me to embrace Office. And um.......there's got to be more. Did I mention I can balance a checkbook and prepare my own taxes?
Crap. I am so done. |
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| Fear Through the Eyes of Madness |
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| 11:19pm 06/01/2009 |
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mood: hopeful music: "Keeping the Blade" - Coheed and Cambria
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I think everything's going to be okay.
I went into hysterics on New Years. I didn't drink a lot (only 2 drinks), but obviously something got me. I yelled, I screamed, I pushed away, I tried to throw myself out of the truck while we were driving. And when he tried to stop me, I threw his ring into the snow. Because I'm a horrible person. Maybe. I don't know. I don't remember anything except being angry. Good way to start a clean slate.
It's like a brand new CD-R with a huge gouge in it. And so anything you try to burn to this CD is crap. And it never plays right. Like smack-dab in the middle of your favorite song, it starts skipping. Except I think it's okay. Because instead of listening to that song, you listen to the next one. And you grow to love it. And you love it more than your favorite. You listen to this song every night as you're falling asleep. And you realize it's so much better than the other one anyway. Not that the first wasn't good, but things change. Things always change. And mistakes are just catalysts.
But he loves me. And he said he never stopped. Even when I was horrible, and hurtful, and hating. And he gave me back his ring that he, crying, had dug out of the two feet of snow. Even though I don't think I can be trusted anymore. But I guess he does. And his eyes say it. And he said time will tell. And I love him. More than anything. I love the way our lips fit together like they were molded to be that way.
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autumnseulogy's journal