Wednesday, August 31, 2011
On Saturday I agreed to go hiking with a coworker and her son, on a whim.
And I loved it.
So I went back a couple days later, by myself, and got these beautiful sights:
Saturday, August 27, 2011
M: How is your day so far?
Customer: Venti Mocha Frappuccino with two shots of espresso.
M: So, your day is a Venti Mocha Frappuccino with two shots of espresso?
M: Okay, so you said your day was a Venti Mocha Frappucino with two shot?
Yes. You read that right. The customer agreed to the statement that her day was a drink, that the descriptor of how her day was going was her drink order.
You can probably tell from my post this past Wednesday that I am infuriated by people who don't listen or acknowledge each other in any way.
It infuriates me that people are more concerned with talking or texting on their cell phones than looking each other in the eye.
To me that's ultimate disrespect.
When someone you're interacting with won't even look you in the eye.
It doesn't matter that I'm only selling you your $6 cup of coffee. Is it really that hard to get off your phone and talk to me like I'm a human being, instead of a coffee robot?
Okay, yes, I confess I went through the checkout at Walmart the other day while on my cell phone. No one is perfect. But for serious, I do actually feel guilty about it.
The point is, this is a HUGE pet peeve of mine. I'd rather someone talk to me and be verbally abusive toward me than ignore my existence completely.
It never ceases to baffle me just how often people don't listen to each other. When did this happen? How long has this been going on? The sad part is that I don't see an end to it. As long as people are obsessed with their fancy phones and texting and the internet, people won't even care about each other.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
When did we stop listening?
When did we become so wrapped up in ourselves and our own lives that we stopped paying attention to other people?
When did we start ignoring people who say hello, or ask us how our day is going?
When did we stop talking and start texting?
When did we forget how to speak properly?
When did we forget manners?
When did we stop really seeing each other?
What has happened to us?
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
This week's Why Wednesday post was inspired partly by Mad Men, and partly by the blog of a man I knew briefly in college, Todd. Todd has become a very snappy dresser of late, and shares his style on his Tumblr.
The combination of these two leave me wondering, why don't people dress well anymore? At my job, I see people all day long. Lots of people.
And I wonder, how did we get from this:
I'm tired of men looking like douchbags, or wearing clothes they should only exercise in, or wearing their pants down by their knees. And I'm tired of the women looking like sluts or hobos or frumpy.
I long to see women wearing dresses with sparkling jewelry, fabulous shoes and amazing handbags. And I long to see men wearing well-tailored suits, ties, watches and cuff links. I long to see men dressing, well frankly, more like these fine gentlemen:
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Lately, I am OBSESSED with clouds.
I constantly find myself looking up at the sky.
I bought a new digital camera a few weeks ago,
and practically every single picture is of the sky.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
I've gradually been increasing my online presence.
I can't believe I just used that term.
I sound like such a tool.
Whatever. You know what I mean.
Lately I've gradually been blogging/facebooking/tweeting more.
I just couldn't stay away.
I missed you too much, internet friends.
Anyhow, the real point of this post is the Grand Return of. . . .
In my head, that was all deep-voiced and echo-y.
Granted, I am not a parent. I have no plans of becoming one anytime soon.
But I know what bad parenting looks like.
I suppose the more specific things I'm speaking of are parents who let their children treat them like crap.
At my job, I have the privilege of observing all manner people. I have the benefit of seeing lots of people interact with each other. This includes parents and children.
The real point is, it never ceases to amaze me the number of parents who let their children backtalk to them. I mean, the things children are allowed to say to their parents! If I said some of those things to my parents when I was young, (or perhaps even now) I would have gotten in SERIOUS trouble.
So my real question is to parents. Why? Why do you tolerate such disrespect from your own offspring, from the life you brought forth into this world? You gave birth to them, you provide for them, the least they can do is learn to not talk back to you.
I mean, think about it. If they learn it's okay to speak to you that way, they'll start speaking to EVERYONE that way. And then as adults, they'll be those bitches no one wants to be around because they're stupid and selfish and snotty.
I didn't think so.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
No, not me.
Something that happened at work tonight.
It was just like out of the movies.
Here, let me tell you a story.
Once upon a time, I was doing dishes.
We were closed, and it was only myself
and my shift supervisor, Megan left.
I was attempting to disassemble
the pump we use for the mocha sauce.
But my hands were wet, and I was having difficulties.
So I took it to Megan, and asked for help.
Now, the next part is really important.
When she disassembled the mocha pump,
the mocha inside of it splattered.
ALL. OVER. MY FACE.
Now, with a little help from Paint,
I tried to recreate the magic for you.
Doesn't really do it justice.
But I for serious made that face.
It was the type of thing that only happens in movies,
and it happened to me.
It was perfect.
There was the brilliant clumsy physical comedy,
the pause to register what just happened,
and then then Megan's laughter
followed by my very deadpan
"I would like a towel, please."
I was actually a little disappointed that
no one else was there to see it.
If I could film a reenactment for all of you,
But it's the type of thing that
I'm fairly certain I couldn't make happen again.
Even my story is lacking.
But I had to try and tell it.
It was so magical,
I just had to share it with all of you.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
She had never worried about tomorrow. She spent money like it grew on trees, and somehow she never ran out of it. She smoked like a chimney, tanned excessively, never bothering to consider things like cancer. She drove a little too fast, partied a little too hard.
And he loved that about her. She had stayed with him longer, perhaps than she had stayed with anyone, ever. She'd even stayed put for him, given up her lifelong nomadic existence which had begun with her insecure, flake of a mother.
He took her to the place they went on their first date. A picnic in the park, it had been her idea, blanket spread underneath the flowering dogwood. He took her there with a longing to make her his forever, he never wanted to be without her.
He asked her, his voice trembling, offering up his gift, a subtle, yet beautiful ring he knew she'd love. But as soon as he said it, he knew by her face what her answer would be. The color drained from her cheeks, her mouth dropped open, eyes wide with fear.
All she could do was shake her head and whisper, “I'm so sorry.”
But he never heard a word. All he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears, the sound of his own heartbeat. He looked up, and she was gone. He knew her things would be gone when he went home, the whole place feeling like the aftermath of a bomb.
He knew she would get in her car and leave. Who knows where this time, but what did it matter? She would stop long enough to make a little money, then move on, leaving more broken hearts in her wake.
But he also realized suddenly how easy it was. Her way, you didn't get hurt, didn't get attached. Little to no risk for the heart. Maybe it would be better that way.
He got in his car, leaving behind the blanket, their picnic, even the ring. He put the gas pedal to the floor, heading to who knows where, but what did it matter anyway?