spoonorita: (Default)
So I sent my other cashier to her lunch break at about 1am last night, and I took over the order she was ringing up so she could go.

The lady we were ringing up was absolute hell wrapped up in a suburban mom meat skin, from pulling clearance tags off of other items and sticking them on the things she wanted (like, lady I've been here long enough to know that just finding the "$8.00" portion of the clearance sticker messily ripped apart and stuck over the item tag price is shady as fuck), and she wasn't understanding why I couldn't take the sale coupons that specifically state that you can take $15 off of ONE SINGLE ITEM of $74.99 or more and apply it to her entire order, but that's not what this story is about.

This story is about a flower.

One of those pretty lilies, the pink and white ones with the gigantic flowers that smell really really pretty.

She had one of those, and I could smell it from all the way down the conveyor belt, and when it finally came up to where I could scan it, I made a comment about how good I think they smell.

"I love these," I said. "If I could, I would tie one around my neck just so I could smell it all the time." And then I smelled it really quick, scanned it, and set it in her cart.

The entire transaction goes through, with some arguing over the coupons, but I get her rung out and on her way.

My other cashier comes back from her lunch, takes one look at me, and tells me that I have something on my chin. I wipe my hand over my chin, and my hand comes back yellow.

There was pollen all over my face, from my chin all the way down my neck.

This lady went the entire transaction, looking me in the face the entire time.

Like, gee thanks for letting me know that I HAD POLLEN ALL OVER MY FACE.
spoonorita: (saixorgasmface)
cut for discussion involving a dead frog )

But, in my googling to try and find out what species this frog is, I did find out something pretty cool that I did not know prior, and that's that Ohio has lizards. Apparently, we have five-lined skinks, broad-head skinks, and ground skinks.

The last time I'd seen lizards in the wild was when I was like eight years old, and my uncle took me to disney world with them. There were brown anoles everywhere and I spent quite a lot of my trip trying to catch one, and failing miserably. I had no idea that Ohio even had a climate that could support any type of lizard, and now it's on my bucket list to find at least one out in the wild.

Also unrelated but not really: when I was about ten, my dad had bought me a few green anoles as pets, and in school, we had daily journals we had to do that had to be turned in and graded. I often wrote about my lizards, and my teacher always redlined and corrected "anoles" to "animals," and this got on my nerves like nothing else. I started including "a small lizard" in parentheses any time I mentioned my anoles, and she still wasn't getting the hint. I even once added at the beginning of a journal entry "an anole is a lizard please stop changing it to "animals" and she even crossed out the "anole" in that sentence and added "animal" in. It took me drawing several random animals at the bottom of my journal entry with the label "animals" and a lizard with the label "anole. An anole is also an animal, but this lizard is called an anole" before she finally stopped correcting it.
spoonorita: (ouija)
We moved into this house in january shortly after the previous tennant passed away.

I'm not as adverse to using her real name on here as opposed to a nickname as I usually am since she's not here anymore; her name was Pam, and she was my town's historian and the head of the historical society before it disbanded a few years ago. She died late last year of brain cancer.

We've been having issues with our central air since it started getting hot enough outside to need it, and mostly we've been suffering, mainly using a few high-powered fans to fend off heat stroke because none of us wanted to bother the landlord with anything else that needed fixing, since they were the ones that lended us the money for the car and we owe them enough as it is.

The other day we caved and let the landlord know it wasn't working, and he promptly sent someone out to fix it.

Good old Pam, it is so very much like her to give us a hard time, even in death. The heating guy told us that he'd been out two years ago to fix the problems that Pam had been having with the furnace and the central air unit and had pinpointed it to the thermostat. He'd offered to replace the thermostat, and Pam outright refused because, and get this, because she had something that she stuck into the thermostat's circuitboards to make it work.

But alas, two years later, with no Pam to show us how she bypassed it, we were left with a broken thermostat and useless central air unit, so yes, we told the heating guy to replace it.

So, about an hour later, we had a new thermostat and working air conditioning, and apparently, a disapproving Pam.

Later that night, my mom saw her walking down the hallway, in a white nightgown. She sad that she passed right in front of my door and disappeared into the laundry room.

She told me this, and we're both a little confused, as we never pegged her to be the "spectral lady in a white gown" type of ghost; we would expect her to appear in one of the period costumes she wore on a regular basis.

But yeah, that's my family's latest paranormal occurrence.
spoonorita: (gamzee)
Before I forget that this happened; I had a minor paranormal experience when I got out of the shower last night.

We bathed the dogs the other day, so there's a coffee mug sitting on the ledge of the bathtub that was used to rinse off the dogs that we just haven't put in the kitchen sink.

Generally, when I get out of the shower, I drape a towel on the edge of the tub and across the floor, sit down, and wrap myself in towels to dry off before I get dressed and get ready for work. And this coffee mug is sitting about a foot to my right.

And as I am sitting there playing on my phone (downloading Magikarp Jump was a mistake), I hear what sounds like ceramic rattling to my right.

I look over at the mug and the noise stops. There are no towels anywhere near the mug, it's just sitting there, chillin' on the ledge, with literally nothing anywhere near it. I go back to playing on my phone, and I hear the noise again. Again, I look over and it stops.

I repeat this a few more times, until I look over at it, and it slides two inches toward me. Untouched by anything.

I got dressed very quickly, ended up putting my pants on backward, and finally took that mug and put it in the kitchen sink.
spoonorita: (Default)
I've since deleted it, because it was pretty much useless an an entry, but when I imported my old LJ account over here, there was one entry that just said "I did a naughty on deviantART" with a dancing trollface gif underneath it, and I just wanted to tell what exactly it was I did.

Many years ago, when deviantART was beginning its decent into garbage, I got into an argument with another user.

I'm sure many people remember the plz accounts - I haven't been active on deviantART in years, so I'm not sure if they're still popular or used as reactions anymore - and there's one in particular, the comment before you fave account, that's always kinda grinded my gears.

Now don't get me wrong, commenting is a great thing, and feedback is important for artists. But being a royal dick about people not commenting on your work makes you an asshole, as there is a large variety of reasons as to why someone can't comment. And I called one user out on this, as he was berating an autistic user for being unable to comment and calling him slurs. And this asshole and I got into an arguement, and he eventually blocked me.

So I created a new account, a sockpuppet called the-fave-bomber, and I went into this guy's gallery, and favebombed his entire gallery without commenting. I think I favebombed like three or four accounts, but only the accounts that were being assholes about comments, before abandoning the account.

It was petty, but I regret nothing.
spoonorita: (Default)
So apparently, either our ghost or the fairies don't like my brother's friend.

There is quite a lot of background where the fairies are concerned, and I do not have the patience to type that all out right now, so I'm going to direct you to this video that I posted around a year ago (the editing and quality is quite terrible, as this was before I figured out how to edit). I may type everything out in the future, but for now I'm just going to say that my mom has fairies and if you want any more information than that, you'll have to watch the video.

Okay, so anyway, we have been fighting with the smoke alarms all night.

That's not paranormal in itself, but just keep listening.

We're going to call my brother's friend "Hyper" for the sake of this story. My mom already doesn't like Hyper very much, mostly because a). the dogs don't like him and b). he keeps ignoring my mom's ground rules, which is basically just to stay out of my brother's weed (he smokes it to help control his mental illness) and to stay out of my brother's cigarettes. Which so far, Hyper has ignored each time he's come over. My brother's pot stash has dwindled, and there's a giant cloud of cigarette smoke that rolls out of my brother's room like a foggy night each time my mom opens my brother's door.

The fairies have a tendency to... get involved when there are stressors present that they don't like. They continuously bothered my brother for almost two months before his inevitable breakup with his girlfriend, and then there was the whole Doug disaster (explained in the video), but otherwise they tend to stay quiet. I might catch a glimpse of one darting up a wall (they tend to appear as black shadowy masses about the size of a rat) every so often, but otherwise I don't see very much of them. Which I am more than okay with, considering I still find them just as terrifying as ghosts.

I actually have a Scary Fairy story, but I'll post that at a later date.

The fairies tend to be very disruptive when there are things going on around the house that they, or my mom, do not like.

Things such as knocking on walls.

Harassing the animals.

...setting off smoke alarms.

The smoke alarms went off for the first time around 4am.

We have three of them; one in the kitchen, one in the hall, and one in front of my brother's bedroom door. The smoke alarms in the hall and in front of my brother's bedroom door were blaring, which of course woke my mom up, and I came out to see why they were screaming in the middle of the night; I figured it was probably my brother cooking something in the middle of the night, as he has a tendency to set off the smoke alarm in the kitchen when he does so.

My brother opens his door, and out rolls a cloud of cigarette smoke. We figure that's the culprit, my mom threatens Hyper's life if he lights up one more cigarette in the house, we silence the alarm, and she goes back to bed.

I figured that was the end of it. A one time fluke.

It wasn't.

This morning, Hyper gets up to get ready to leave. And what happens? You guessed it, the smoke alarms start blaring.

Open my brother's door?

Nothing.

No cigarette smoke. Or any other kind of smoke. There is nothing in the house on fire (I checked) and the batteries aren't dead, because smoke alarm batteries do not scream their fucking heads off when they're dead, nor would waving away the "smoke" silence them either.

Hyper leaves, and the alarms will not stop blaring.

We removed the batteries, because what else are we supposed to do, and I'm taking this as a sign that there is something going on that the fairies don't like.

Because fuck if my life can't be normal.
spoonorita: (Default)
Here is a list of occurrences that over the last few years that have convinced me that my coworker has psychic abilities, and that they are somehow connected to me doing stupid shit.

I really need to give people nicknames; I know everyone's real names are mentioned ass-deep in my blog, but I'm still going through and editing, so soon they will no longer be there. So we'll start by naming this coworker "Bear," since she really likes bears.

The First Occurrence:

Or as I like to call it, the Spider Incident.

I'm sure everyone's seen the security devices that are wrapped around high-dollar items in most department stores. They're called Spider Wraps, but we always just shorten it to "spiders."

We got these security devices in the store sometime in 2010, and one of the unfortunate parts of being on the overnight shift, nobody actually trained us on how to use these, so we had to figure it out for ourselves. Detaching them from items wasn't that hard to figure out, but extending and retracting them to fit, however, was a little harder to get used to. And that fact is what comes into play here.

It was around midnight, Bear had made her way down to the GM side of the store to close the doors for the night, and I was stationed down at the self-checkout with another cashier, who we'll just call "T" because this is the only story he's ever going to show up in. One of my regular customers walks up, wanting to buy a car stereo, so I unwrap the spider and scan his item for him so he could pay for it.

And also, ever wanting to be the comedian, I decide that I'm going to slide the spider wrap over my chest, all in the name of a spider-man joke. Unfortunately, the spider wrap had been retracted to fit the car stereo, and unfortunately for me, I was inexperienced enough with these security devices to remember that you could not extend them with the knob (I don't even know what to call it. Knob? Handle? It's a little flat plastic thing that flips up that you turn in order to retract that spider wrap). So as I slipped it over my head, I flipped the knob/handle out and twisted it, and instead of extending like I had hoped it would do, it retracted.

I got the fucking spider wrap stuck around my head.

At this point, after realizing what I had just done, T was literally on the floor laughing, and the regular was also laughing at me, and as I'm standing there trying to unhook this thing from around my ears, someone walks up to my register with a full cart.

So I'm taking care of this customer (who is trying - and failing - to not laugh at the situation) on my lane with a spider wrap stuck around my head, and meanwhile, Bear had just finished closing the GM-side doors for the night, and had approached the person covering the electronics area (who I now dub "Fork"), to find out when she wanted her break.

Bear was in the middle of talking when she stopped, looked at Fork, and said, "I have to go. Spoony just did something stupid."

So she walks back out to the checkouts, shaking her head, saying "Okay, what did you do?" Before seeing my predicament, proceeding to laugh at me for a few minutes, and using the magnetic key to unhook it from my face.

it only gets wilder from here )

So yeah. My coworker has psychic abilities, that are apparently connected to me any time I do something stupid.
spoonorita: (Default)
When I was a teenager, I had myself a Goth Phase™, though unfortunately for me, I was grossly misinformed as to what goth actually was. You know, raver pants and Marilyn Manson is the One True God, type of goth. I was a Mall Goth™, and the thought of the things I did at that point in my goth lifetime makes me cringe so hard, and I'll share many of those stories in other anecdotes, but I mentioned this one particular story to someone last night and I wanted to share it here too.

In my senior year of high school, I took a fashion design class at my county's vocational school. Like any other art-related class, the beginning of the curriculum followed mostly around color theory and composition, to better prepare us for later projects through the year. The project in question was our last one before the main curriculum started, and we had to work in groups to come up with an attention-grabbing poster to advertise a fictional product. we worked in groups of four, my group consisting of myself, my best friend, who was on the alternative spectrum of things, but significantly less cringey than me, my sister who was also in this class with me, and a fourth girl, who was the Good Christian™, and whose name I don't actually remember, but for the sake of this story will be called Becky.

Being four different individuals, with four different aesthetics, and four different ideas as to how this poster should look, we were butting heads. We were arguing amongst ourselves, because nobody liked anyone else's ideas, and with me being That Person™, I got fed up, and very loudly, in front of the entire class, shouted:

"I know, why don't we just plaster 'Hail Satan!' all over it? That'll grab everyone's attention!"

Becky. Went. Off.

"I am a good christian! I go to church every sunday, and of you even think of putting 'Hail Satan' on that poster board, I am quitting and we can all fail the assignment! I don't care!"

I meant it as a joke, and obviously, our finished poster did not contain the Dark Lord's name or likeness anywhere, but from that day forward, she always seemed wary of me.

A few months later, my best friend had told me that my name had been mentioned when I wasn't around, and Becky said "I don't like Spoony. I think they're a devil worshiper!"

And again, I was That Person™, and instead of squashing it down (no matter how many pokemon cards Satan offers me, I bow down to no deity), I let her believe it. Even insinuated it at some points.

As you can see, I was a regular Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way in my high school years, and now that my understanding of the goth subculture has... improved immensely, I sometimes like to reminisce over these cringey things I used to do, and just laugh at myself. Because that is all I deserved at this point in my life.
spoonorita: (scaredperidotisscared)


Day 3: History. What stories do you know about your ancestors? What traits do you admire in them? What do you want future generations to remember about you? What do you want to be known for when you leave the world?

Okay, so obviously, I have not kept up with this daily challenge. I am terrible at this kind of stuff, and I think the longest I have ever kept up with a daily challenge has been, like, five or six days. I am going to try and get back into doing this regularly, on a daily, or even every other day, basis. I will not conquer this creative block if I don't get out there and, you know, fucking create.

On another note, I did manage to plow through several hundred words (I didn't count, but my guess is 400-600) the other day. Was I writing fanfic? No. But I did get some world-building done with my Love Bites au (also how hard is it for me to write Axel and Saïx in a healthy fucking relationship?????).

Anyway, onto the challenge.

Most of what I know about my ancestors are just anecdotes and random little stories, and only from the ancestors that are still alive. I don't believe I have any ancestors that are famous or truly remarkable other than just, you know, existing and doing their own thing. I do have an uncle however; an uncle who for the longest time wrote for Sports Illustrated, and eventually published a novel. A piece of "fiction" with basis from his childhood.

One story in particular that I remember hearing about as a kid was the time that my grandpa found a praying mantis cocoon and brought it to the church, where it then proceeded to hatch.

I honestly though that was the jist of it. They brought it to the church and it hatched, releasing hundreds of baby praying mantises in the church. I did not know that this happened, however, during sunday mass.

I'm just going to include the screenshots I took of this particular anecdote from my uncle's book.
screenshot dump )

I really don't admire anyone's traits, simply because I don't know enough of my ancestors/relatives to really see any defining traits. I see them occasionally on holidays and that's really about it.

As for future generations? I know it sounds odd, but I'm not sure I really want to be remembered, not for anything great anyway. I'm not sure there's really anything that great about me to be remembered for. I'll be remembered as a sort of internet presence and that's really about all I have to offer. Maybe write some stories and draw some art that get recognized, but other than that? I can't really say.
spoonorita: (amethystsnakeswallowsaburrito)
Throughout the house we have three crawlspaces; not really crawlspaces so much as almost like unfinished attic spaces, accessible through small doors located in the bathroom, my brother's room, and my closet. Think of the door from Coraline.

The crawlspace behind my closet is the largest, and shares a wall with my brother's bedroom (not the same crawlspace as the door in his room; that one is behind the living room).

Over the last few months, my brother has been telling us about something knocking at the wall by his bed from inside the crawlspace behind my closet. He occasionally knocks on his wall in an attempt to get the ghost to knock back, and so far it has not responded.

Last night, his girlfriend was over, and knocked on the wall.

It knocked back.

Oddly enough, I've never heard any noises coming from behind my closet, but it still unnerves me, you know?
spoonorita: (gamzee)
Things I thought I needed in order to maintain a journal: pretty book with pretty paper that I'll likely fill up in no time.

Things i actually needed in order to maintain a journal: something mobile that i could keep on my person without lugging around a book and write in without people hanging over my shoulder like "WHATCHA WRITING?!"

I spent like ten minutes searching the app store for an appropriate journal app before remembering HERPDERP I HAVE THIS HANDY NOTES APP THAT CAME WITH THE IPOD YOU STUPID FUCK. (update: found an app where i can backdate entries, and subsequently, livejournal)

Mainly, I need someplace to vent that isn't the internet, and i need to get back into writing longer journal entries on a daily basis to try and improve my writing to where it was before I lost everything on my desktop computer. I have a book full of writing prompts to use if i have nothing of substance to write and maybe i can write a few drabbles or something, I dunno.

First thing's first, the apocalypse is officially here because my mother is legit considering using a ouija board to try and communicate with her ghosts. She has always been a die-hard "DO NOT USE OUIJA BOARD BAD THINGS WILL HAPPEN" kind of person, but she's having difficulties communicating with the spirits around her and she's been reflecting on a memory of her childhood that's convincing her that maybe that's what she should be doing. I have yet to tell her about my own experiences with a ouija board, but I told her I'd supervise if she needed me to.

I have a ouija board print-out decorating the inside of a notebook that may possibly work with a small enough planchette, but I haven't attempted to use it. I have a possible need to use one for a reason that I'll get into in a minute, but my own conflictions with ouija boards have been stopping me.

I am a studying witch. Not practicing so much (not much more than a few sigils anyway) because my living space is way too cluttered and I literally have no room to work until i clean up all my shit, but a witch i am and a weenie at that.

I love the paranormal. I eould love to work with spirits. I have very little sensitivity and would like to open my third eyeand develop my psychic self and be able to see/communicate with spirits.

I am also terrified of them.

There are moments where paranormals activity doesn't phase me but 99% of the time I'm just like "fuck this shit i'm out" and i high-tail it outta there.

This is my conflict with ouija boards. I think they're the coolest things ever. I want ouija phone cases and t-shirts and all that jazz.

But i am also terrified of them.

Especially the prospect of sitting down and using one on my own. I'm not sure i could handle sitting there in a quiet room on my own while a planchette moves in my hands without any help from me at all.

But i had an experience a few weeks back (on 7/28) that i really need more information on. I was waiting on the ps3 to do something at 2am (or around then), and it was relatively silent in my room, except for the noise from my a/c unit and the fan. I was lying back, still awake but snoozing a little, when i heard a very faint voice.

It was a little girl, but she was so quiet, the only phrases i was able to make out were "I'm not talking to the man who hurt me," and "I'm the red cycle baby," the latter of which was repeated several times. I normally sleep with the tv on and other background noise, so i have no idea if she's been trying to talk to me the whole time, but i'm afraid to turn everything off and listen because of my weenieness where the paranormal is concerned.

So i am considering pulling this book out to use this miniature ouija board to maybe find out what she was trying to tell me.

And hope i don't get anything nasty instead.
spoonorita: (Default)
So like, about six years ago, we had just fixed our PS2 and I bought a bunch of video games to play on it because we didn’t have cable and I’ve seen every Disney movie a million times already, and Haunting Ground was one of the first games I was playing. I didn’t have a memory card so most of my game playing consisted of finding different ways around the castle that didn’t kill Fiona outright and every time I died, I had to start over, but one day, I was determined to get through this game so I tiptoed my way through this game for hours until I got to the part right before the boss battle with Debilitas and you would think that with this game that I would know better than to just waltz right into a pitch black room and instead of following Hewie around the corner of the room I just kept walking forward and Fiona fell into a hole and died and that was the first time I ever broke a controller.
spoonorita: (Default)
So I wake up at 7pm every night to start getting ready for work. This does not change.

Last night, my alarm clock went off at 7pm like usual, so I shut it off and sat up in my bed, and changed the channel on the TV, because the Big Bang Theory comes on at 7pm and I always watch it before going downstairs to eat.

I was a little surprised when Jerry Springer starts playing.

I was like "Okay, this isn't right. Did they change the program times around or something?" and I watched about two minutes of it before grabbing my computer to start Tumblring.

I opened my computer and the clock on my desktop reads 4:03pm.

By now I'm like "what the actual fuck" so I grabbed my iPod, which also reads 4:03pm.

AT SOME POINT WHILE I WAS SLEEPING I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA TO WAKE UP AND SET THE TIME ON MY CLOCK AHEAD THREE HOURS.

I then changed the time back and went back to sleep.
spoonorita: (Default)
Okay, so forgive me for not being all that up to date and current with what's on the radio considering the only time I ever really listen to it is during the transport to and from work, and with all the station-switching, I tend to miss the song info on the songs I enjoy when they come on.

This song in particular isn't new, but it's been bugging me for months as to who sings it, or at least what that name of the song was so I could google it and find out.

The song in question is this:



Okay, so before I go to work, I decide to use one of the three or four dollars I have left of my last iTunes card and download this song, which wasn't that fun considering since we don't have our own wireless anymore (since I took my modem back and don't have a broadcaster) that I was relying on the neighbor's which keeps fading in and out during the download, making a two minute-download last about fifteen.

When I got to work, I still had a few minutes to spare so I decide to give the song a listen to, and discover, that not only did iTunes download it twice... but that I already had it.

So the moral of the day: When you decide to spend a dollar to download a song, make sure you haven't already obtained it during a music swap with your little sister.

--

In Unrelated News:

-My dog has some nuclear farts going on today...
spoonorita: (Default)
So, if you don't normally read my mindless drivel, I suggest that you read this in its entirety, as it is quite funny.

So, when I was like eleven or twelve years old we got our first computer (if you wanna get technical, it was our second, but the first one was so old that it actually ran on DOS and we only had it for a month because we couldn't figure out how to work it) from my aunt; it's this massive monster that ran on Windows 95 (that I actually still own and contains all of my early Kingdom Hearts fanfiction from before I started posting to fanfiction.net) and was so slow and old, even for that time that we actually managed to get it for free because nobody in their right mind would pay for something as old and obsolete as this thing was.

In the early days of my family's internet access, we hadn't yet heard of Google of Yahoo so most of everything we came upon was by typing something random in the browser and hoping it got us somewhere.

At the time of this particular memory, I might have been twelve years old and I was starting to get into Slipknot (most of the computer's 2GB -no lie- of physical memory was full of Slipknot pictures) and other heavy metal music, while my sister was still into NSYNC and the Backstreet Boys and Britney Spears.

This story deals with Britney Spears.

My sister was actually the one sitting at the computer at this time, and I was sitting behind her watching what she was doing over her shoulder while she was typing various addresses into the browser looking for websites related to Britnay Spears.

Well, she decides to type "britneyspearsworld.com" into the browser.

First, some text in turkish pops up, followed by boobs. Massive boobs.

The computer freezes.

So, being two pre-teen girls now officially disturbed by an adult world we did not yet know of, we did what any other eleven and twelve year old would do.

We shrieked like little girls.

This of course alerts our dad, and he walks through the house to come check on his girls, and the only thing we knew was that there was some turkish porn site frozen on the computer screen and our dad was just one room away,so I did the only thing that made sense to me at the time which was to reach under the computer desk and unplug it from the wall, because no l;ittle girl wants their father to catch them on a computer with giant tits on the screen, whether it was accidental or not.

And that kiddies, is why you should never type "britneyspearsworld.com" into your computer's browser.
spoonorita: (Default)
We got new bags in, and I've decided that they never need to order these particular bags again.

Two girls came through with one of those really big bottles of wine and made it through just before the cut-off time, and they set it in one of these sucky bags, picked it up, and it went right through the bottom of the bag.

There was wine fucking everywhere.

So anyway, Chrissy and I were cleaning it up and we made the following comments:

Me: There's wine all over my shoes. There's wine all over my pants. There's wine all over the floor...

Chrissy: Stop whining!

And we both lost it.
spoonorita: (Default)
So I happened to be just almost asleep and the TV just happens to get very quiet for a half-second and I just so happen to hear someone knocking on the front door from downstairs.

The first thing I will say about Jim, though we all love him dearly, is that he has the memory span of a banana. We all put money in to go towards the bills and he puts the money in his checking account and we tell him every month to call and pay the bills.

"Yeah, okay, I'll get it in a minute,"

Though every month goes by and we get a knock on the door from DP&L or Vectren (the electric company and the gas company) because yes, Jim said he was going to call the company and pay it but he got distracted by something on DAZ or Poser and didn't pay it, so then comes the scuffle to find the checkbook before the technician gets tired of waiting and disconnects it anyway.

So comes today, when I'm ever so innocently trying to go to sleep for the day and it just so happens to get quiet enough that I hear the knock on the door, and I just so happen to be coherent enough to remember that the only people who ever knock before entering the house are bill collecters and I just so happen to realize "Oh shit! Has DP&L been by yet this month?" (they're usually here by the third of the month; they're about two weeks late this time).

So I run like a bat out of hell down the stairs; the dogs are going crazy out in the backyard and my mom had just gotten home from work and was in the bathroom and couldn't answer the door, so I answered it.

Sure enough, it was the electric guy, and the disconnect notice had a total of $264 on it and we're freaking out because Jim had just paid the rent and we can't find the checkbook anywhere (it wouldn't be Jim if he left his things in the same place each time he used them) so we're digging through our drawers and jars and wallets trying to collect all the cash we could find (which was mostly $1 bills) and we managed to collect $254. Then we actually looked at the disconnect notice and we only had to pay $80 to keep from getting disconnected.

Yeah, happy fucking Valentine's day.
spoonorita: (Default)
Now, for the story behind this picture, other than the fact that I thought it was time for a new ID on deviantART...

A few months ago at work, we got these new security devices that go directly on our higher priced items called Spiders. I don't know if anybody out there is familiar with them, but it's basically a small alarm system that actually has a double alarm; it sets off the door alarms and if you try to cut it off, the device itself screams like a small child. You need a key to remove it.

Well, the other night, I got one of them stuck around my head.

One of our regular customers came up with a car stereo system that had a Spider on it, so I removed it and the other guy who was watching the self-checkout with me helped the customer check out while me, being a dumbass as usual, just clicked it back together and slipped it over my head. I went to extend it a bit further, and twisted the wrong way, and up against my face it goes.

And then, right at that moment, a customer comes up to the self-checkout who needs help on a regular lane.

I tugged and tugged and I couldn't get the stupid thing off, so I had to take care of this customer, who just laughed at me the entire time, with this stupid security device wrapped around my head before Chrissy finally came back up front and rescued me, because I couldn't see to get the key back in there to remove it from my head.

Last night, I told Shelley about my fail, and after hearing her usual "Kaila, don't do that," speech, I drew a little doodle in her notebook, of my cartoon self with a literal spider stuck to my face. I then decided that that little doodle needed to become my new ID, so I drew it in my sketchbook, took a photo with my DSi, and quickly edited it in GIMP.

And now, here you go. Another little moment of fail from yours trully.

.:EDIT:. Yenno, if you scroll the screen up and down really fast over the drawing, it looks like my arms are really flailing.
spoonorita: (Default)
So, today's fail has actually resulted in some severe physical pain, and likely, come tonight, will have blossomed into a gigantic bruise on my forehead that I'm going to have to explain to everyone who asks about it.

So, basically, out of pure habit, at least twenty times a night, I'll say "Is it time to go home yet?" to which Chrissy has begun to remedy by smacking me in the head. Usually, I'll run away, but sometimes, I don't even realize it, and she does it.

I was standing down at fastlane with one of the hand baskets when I said it, and she smacked me in the head. So I glared at her, went "I have a face shield, so HA!" and she smacked the basket.

Apparently, the basket was a bit lower than either of us thought, because it smacked me very hard in the forehead, right above my right eye. I now have a giant goose egg on my head, and I keep touching it.

My face is pain.

--

In unrelated news:

--My brother's school is holding a talent show, and him and his friends managed to get in... by doing the McDonald's "Fillet of Fish" song. Explain that to me.

--I'M GOING THROUGH SHELLEY WITHRAWAL!!

Fail

Feb. 20th, 2010 09:29 am
spoonorita: (Default)
So, I almost killed the service phone at work.

I went into the stinky room (the utility closet, so named because it stinks) to fill my bucket with cleaner, and as I turned around, I felt a tug on my pants and heard a ploop, and everybody knows that ploop is not a good sound to hear, because the only time that sound ever hits human ears is when something electronic falls into something liquid.

Electronic things tend not to work after falling in something liquid.

Which of course, it didn't.

Mind you, from what I've heard, these phones are about fournine-hundred dollars each, so by this point, just pulling it out of the water, I'm like "HO SHIT!" (loud enough where the customers could probably hear me) and I immediately pull the phone out of the case and remove the battery and start shaking the hell out of the thing to get all the water out.

I come back out on the floor and I tell on myself, so I call the boss man to tell him I killed the phone (in those exact words).

I managed to dry it out though by sitting under the hand dryers in the bathroom for about half an hour, and it eventually worked again.

So of course I spent the rest of the night telling everyone about my fail.

I also want to get out that I'm getting ready to start another akuroku crack-fic (because those are the ones I have no trouble updating), which came about from watching too many zombie movies in a row.

I think that's all I'll say for that for now.

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