I'm still alive. I'm a creature!

This probably doesn't come as a surprise to anyone who follows my blog, because I see or speak to most of them on a semi-regular basis. However, for any creepy lurkers out in the universe, I'm still around, I've just been too wrapped up in a lumberjack to post anything (literally).

Anyway, a lot of really weird things have been happening to me, as usual, but I fucked up today and thought it was worth blogginn'.

I get the same thing for lunch every day, from the same restaurant. When I call, I say the exact same thing every time. It's to the point that the girl just says my order when she hears my voice. I like that, because I completely hate ordering food. It's awkward and I mumble, then have to repeat myself, etc. Every day I pay with my debit card, and leave the same tip. I say "Hi" to the people working regularly, but lately I've been feeling like I should engage them in a little bit of conversation, to avoid seeming like a pedophile or serial killer or something. This can be filed under "incorrect urge" in my brain, just like humping stuffed animals throughout my youth. Similar to my urge to hump stuffed animals as a child, I was unable to resist. For what it's worth, I had better luck violating my toys.

My first mistake was switching up the routine. Yesterday I marched in there and paid in fucking cash. The girl looked like she might explode a little bit and said "I don't think I've ever seen you pay with cash before!" I really didn't know what to say, so I just responded with a simple "Yeah, but I do sometimes.... haha," and then I wanted to die. Instead of throwing myself into traffic, I went back to work and ate my lunch while reading the same blog I read every single day.

I guess, in order to paint this picture more vividly, I should probably note at this time that the restaurant I frequent is in a strip mall in Redford. It's right next to a "career placement/advancement" agency so it's always teeming with fuck ups and people trying to run me over. This is the kind of strip mall that pays homeless people to hold up signs touting exciting deals. There are always multiple felonious skanks screaming on their cell phones, etc. It's a total cluster fuck and if the food wasn't amazing and I wasn't such a fat ass on the inside I wouldn't bother.

ANYWAY!

Today I went back, and decided not to throw anything off. I pulled out my debit card to pay, but since I had paid with cash the day before, we had to talk about the fact that now I'm back to debit. I started to tell the girl that I'm a "creature of habit," (which is one of the million stupid phrases I use that I should quit) but I didn't get any further than "I'm a creature..." when this mammoth bitch crashed through the door using her "outside/ lost in the middle of the woods and desperately needs rescuing" voice demanding a refund on her $5 hamburger lunch special. Who fucking orders a hamburger at a middle eastern restaurant?

So this Goliath is losing her fucking mind about the hamburger, and I have absolutely no time to finish my phrase! I'm standing there, and the girl is looking at me like I'm retarded or something because I just told her I was a creature. I felt so creepy! I was completely startled by bad burger rhino and I couldn't find it in myself to correct the situation. I paid, left, and now this girl I see more frequently than most of my friends and family thinks I let her know that "I'm a creaaatureeee" with heavy purpose and seriousness.

Fuck.

Driving Too Fast In Parking Lots

When people whip into parking lots at 85 mph and then back into parking spaces, I want to fucking kill them.

That's all.

Not All The Way Blind/ I hope Hell is fake because I think I'd go there if it is real.

Metro-Detroiters- I've got some bad news. I'm sure most of you have seen the Sam Bernstein commercials featuring his whole wonk-eyed family. If we've ever talked about the commercials, I'm sure I've screamed something about how fucked up Richard looks and how hilarious it is, etc. I'm sure I've bellowed "Aahhhhhh MANNN Richard is my Bernnnstteeiinnnn" over the hills and magical Jesus cloud mountains into the vengeful ears of God Himself.

Well it turns out that Richard isn't just weird looking, he's fucking blind. Foot in the mouth, for the 14,125,425th time. I need a muzzle.

Anyway! The way I found out about this is worth noting.

Not since the great "snuggies are backless" scandal of Christmas Eve 2008 has there been such an uproar in my kitchen.

The scene: Tuesday night, pizza on the table. My mouth is completely full. A Sam Bernstein commercial comes on before final Jeopardy. Dad sits silently in the recliner.

I scream, with my mouth full of pizza "Faackin Richaaaadddd! Dass my boyyyy!" My brother scolds me- "He's fucking blind, you bitch!" My Mom jumps to my defense by interjecting "He's not all the way blind." Nick (my brother) yells back, "Yes he is! He walks with a fucking stick! He was is a professor at U of M! I sat in on a few of his lectures, he's very inspirational!" Mom, still not having it, says "He's just not all the way blind. No he's not."

If there is a Hell, I'm going there. Not just because I've been making fun of a blind guy for a while, or because I have premarital sex, or because I think it's funny when kids fall and break their teeth. I've been dealing with a lot of Jesus/religious stuff lately, and by pretty much every measure that has been presented to me, I'm going to Hell. This is a total bummer because I think I'm pretty nice. If I were in charge of whatever alternate to Hell there is- I'd let anyone in who was pretty nice and not a magician/circus person/carny/David Lee Roth. I'm going to be very upset and out of luck if God does exist and he's not like me in that I can't hate or be mean to (or condemn to Hell) anyone who is nice to me. If I am ever put before God, I'm relying on his acceptance of such phrases as "You know, I really love what you did with that whole Appalachian region of the U.S.- The mountains look great!" or "Where did you get that robe? You look stunning," or "Since you're omniscient, you must know that I'm a HUGE fan of beards." to keep me out of the infernal circle. Ugh. This sucks. Religion just needs to smoke a bowl and chill the fuck out.

Anyway, stop making fun of R.B. because he can't see anything.

Lonely Broads

A mean, crotchety old man just came into my office, and in the middle of complaining about the government, snow, storage, etc. looked at me and said "Is that a tattoo! Are your friggin' ears really that big!?"

I replied "Afraid so."

He then let out an impassioned "Jeeesssuuus Christ! You broads wonder why you get old and lonely!"

The world is going to hell! I thought I was going to have to wait a little while to buy a house and a rocking chair in order to chastise young people for being on my lawn and doing otherwise unsavory things, but it turns out I can just do that anywhere.

I'm into it. The girl at Subway with the never-going-to-heal surface piercings is getting a talking to very soon.

Lonely Old Broads!

WEED WEED WEED WEED

Anyone need some?

That's what a recent bulletin on MySpace read. Only this bulletin was not posted by one of my million hescher friends- it was posted by a girl I used to babysit from the time she was about a toddler to elementary school.

Once again, the Internet is giving me a very interesting glimpse into the life of someone I would have otherwise let go, except for the occasional passing thought. It's surreal to think about buying weed from someone who sat down next to me on a couch with a book called "Where Puppies Come From" and demanded a more thorough explanation. I remember when she used to pee her pants and lie about it, or when we almost got into a physical altercation (I'm not above beating up a kid) over some Reese's Peanut Butter Cups she wasn't supposed to be eating.

Now she has her lip pierced a few times, wears green eyeshadow and tells me about going to "Warp" tour. It almost makes me feel bad for my parents, because when I read her seven bulletins about having TREE and WEED, etc. I felt like maybe if I had told her where puppies really came from instead of saying "Ummm I'm not sure, maybe you should ask your Mom about that one... I know you peed your pants earlier by the way" she would have been able to resist acting like a weirdo. I wonder if every time my parents hear me tell my little brother to lick a girl's butthole they think back to the kid who charged them $1 for a painting of a green line and die inside a little bit. "Maybe if we hadn't let her eat nothing but popcorn for a year she wouldn't be suggesting that her 17 year old brother toss a salad".

I'm pretty sure there's nothing they could have done, but I feel a little bit like I can understand that sentiment now. I'd like to think that when it's your kid, the love you feel for them sort of overshadows the disgusting "Ahhhh what the fuck?" feeling I got when I read about the little druglord, but who really knows. If she's smoking weed, she's sucking dicks and THAT is fucked up to me.

I guess she figured out where puppies come from without my help. I don't smoke weed, but if I did I'd probably want to "Boof a J" (to quote Muriel's mom) right now.

It Never Ends

When I was a little kid, I was a loser (I still am, but people give me less shit about it now because I'm a tyrant bitch and it has become cool to be a dork). There were a lot of days I didn't even want to go to school because some jerk would make fun of me all day and I didn't really fight back. When I did fight back, somehow I would totally fuck it up and make myself look even worse than I did in the first place. One quick example: When I was in 6th grade I wrote a poorly coded note to a friend of mine about a guy with whom I was "in love". I went so far as to mention the one time I had spoken to him on the phone (which for me was basically on the level of having sex) and I felt the need to explain to my friend that he reminded me of a cuddly teddy bear. In a move only I could pull, I dropped the note in the locker room at school and it found his way back to him. There was a very short redhead in my class named Shane Sims, who was an asshole and really took the opportunity to make fun of me every day, probably to distract from the fact that he came from an extremely recessive gene pool. ANYWAY! I thought I would be super funny and distract everyone in my class from the constant "Jenny loves Aaron" fiasco by writing "Shane loves Aaron" on the back of my notebook and holding it up. Somehow this tiny ginger turd pulled the old switcheroo on me and changed the notebook to say "Jenny loves Aaron", so I was holding that up for my whole class to read. Not. Too. Cool.

That type of situation can pretty much be applied repeatedly from the time I learned to speak until I was 15 or so. When things like that would happen, my Mom and Dad would always offer the comforting wisdom that Elementary/Middle/High School doesn't last forever, and that eventually I would graduate and never see or think about most of those people again. As a kid with huge buck teeth and giant bangs, I was very into that. If, for any reason whatsoever, I end up with children of my own, I think it's a pretty safe bet that they will be losers as well. I was really looking forward to explaining to them that eventually they will not have to worry about all of the asshole kids that will eventually push them around or find out about their secret crushes. Having an end date for harassment and being a social reject really does help. Unfortunately, thanks to the Internet, wireless phones, and websites like MySpace and Facebook you never really do get away from the people like Shane Sims.

Much like the "people you may know" feature, which tends only to remind you of people you know and hate, the benefits of these websites (i.e. maintaining a sense of friendship despite a total lack of communication and face time/effort) are somewhat outweighed by the drawbacks. I was going to skip my ten year high school reunion, but now it doesn't even matter, because I know what all of those sloppy hos are doing! Now there's no point! Even if I did go to the reunion (which is scheduled to happen about the same time the world has been prophesied to end- not a coincidence if you ask me), I wouldn't have to ask what people were up to because I KNOW. I lurk everyone I can possibly lurk, and I know they lurk me too!

I realize the solution is as simple as avoiding these types of things, but if I did that I'd have nothing to lament. I'll just have to be more careful to avoid failing obviously so people don't have anything to call our former classmates and gossip about.

New Favorite Movie

Right now I want to encourage all Comcast customers to stop whatever they are doing, and sit down in front of their TV. Then I want you to go to the Free Movies section on your OnDemand Menu, and scroll down until you find "To Catch A Yeti". Then I want you to click play and prepare for the best hour and a half of your life.

SERIOUSLY.

I watched this movie last night and it was enchanting. Meatloaf plays a mean hunter who tries to catch this amazing and wonderful Yeti, but things go awry.

It's the best! Needs to be released on DVD. There is a part in the movie where the Yeti screams and I swear to god I haven't laughed that hard in at least a year. SO FUNNY. The Yeti giggles and makes amazing noises. Similar to an Ewok in that it delights me, different in that it can ski on its bare feet.

Best movie ever.

I'm sad to report that for most of the cast, To Catch A Yeti was their only cinematic foray... but once you make a masterpiece there's really no point in humoring the thought of doing lesser films.

I am in love with this movie.

Good Excuse: I can't pay because I was stuck in THAI PRISON

You know, I was trying to let this go, but it's a little after 11 and I just drew a comic about it so I have to commit it to my BLOG.

I really fucking hate people who store things, even though their existence provides me with a job and money for things like fuel and shelter and neon crawlers from CVS. I hate them so much that I tell my friends about them. I think about them before I go to bed at night. Sometimes I mutter "fucking assholes" into my pillows when I'm half awake at 4AM... and I'm thinking about those fat, crusty motherfuckers.

One day when I was about 17 my (Asian- so he seemed wise to my racist white self) friend's Dad got real serious on me and said "Leave work at work and home at home... that's the key to happiness," but I just can't fucking do it! It's Friday night and I'm sitting around my Mom and Dad's living room drawing pictures of me setting a stranger on fire.

There were at least four people who crossed my path today that I could have done without... but this guy, he's a really outstanding turd. Every time we talk to someone, we note whatever bullshit they say in an account we have set up for them. This comes in handy because these sloppy whores can't keep anything straight, especially the lying-ass stories they tell me all day long. Mostly I don't really care because I can tell it's taking every fiber of their being to be able to string sentences together, and I'm actually impressed that they are resilient enough to have survived long enough to lie to me for several consecutive months- but this guy's lie really went above and beyond the call of duty.

So this man, Kevin, calls me early in the day to pay his bill by phone. This is a very normal thing and I didn't think twice about it until he said to me "Yeaaaahhh... my things were almost sold at auction last month because someone over there ddiiiddnn't quite do their jooobbbbbb."

This immediately struck me as interesting because normally if we don't quite do our job, people's things don't get sold at auction. Fortunately, Kevin was ready to let me know exactly what the problem was before I even had a chance to ask, but not before I had a chance to glance over his account notes, which let me know (thanks to a big mouthed friend of his) that KEVIN was in the clink the previous month!

Kevin told me that his friend brought a check in to pay his bill, but we never applied it to his account. He explained to me that this made him very uncomfortable because he really counts on me to take care of his things. I really let Kevin down. Despite a spell of guilt so strong that I almost took my life, I asked him two questions: One- was the check ever cashed, and Two- why didn't he come pay the bill himself. I wanted Kevin to tell me some lock down stories! There is nothing wrong with that. My job is boring.

Kevin then returned the let down twofold- he informed me that I'd have to contact his mystery friend to check the status of the ghostly unapplied check (we don't usually have our customers' fave five on file) AND that he was "Ouuut of the counnntrryyyy" and too busy to come in and pay the check.

Normally I would just let this go- but Kevin's tone was a little condescending and I don't take shit from pack rat jailbirds. I said "Well, Kevin, according to our notes you were actually in jail last month."

The phone line went silent and then Kevin said... and I fucking quote:

"I was in Thai Prison... for abouuuut a month."

THAI PRISON for ABOUT A MONTH.

I don't know how one gets caught up in Thai Prison for about a month. I guess someone that gets locked up abroad would need storage! I wanted to crawl through the phone and set that man on fire. What a horrible fucking lie. At least tell me you were in the hospital with a mystery disease! Tell me your third cousin died... something. THAI FUCKING PRISON!?

Ever the voice of reason, my Dad said "Maybe he got caught jaywalking."