I'm All Lost in the Supermarket...
Because the lights are out. I stopped by Meijer yesterday and took little note of the handwritten "push" signs on the normally electric doors until I emerged into a dark, cavernous store with a few furtive shoppers creeping about. "Eh?" I thought. Apparently some odd "main switch" emergency had rendered the overhead lights unable to come on and various other things. Meijer was still open, but it had turned into an enormous city at night-- various districts, some that have emergency lights over them, and others that are darker and more foreboding. Unfortunately, it was a bad neighborhood I had to go into to buy the wooden dowels I was looking for. The hardware department was so heavily shadowed that I ended up walking past the dowels twice before I realized they were there. Surreal. On my way back up to the front I passed through Pets, and was just in time to dimly see two ladies converge at the same time around a corner. In the light, it would have been, " Oh, excuse me. Sorry." But there in the shadows, one lady let out a little shriek, and the other lady dropped her bag of cedar chips. Everything is more scary in the dark, even a little lady in orthopedic shoes.
Wednesday, February 26, 2003
Sunday, February 23, 2003
It snot you. It's me.
What can I say? Over the past few days I think I've experienced more phlegm than I have in the rest of my whole life put together. Miserable. The worst thing about it all is that since it's all taking place in my sinuses, my ears are begging to be popped. I gave in to the pressure a couple days ago and the change of pressure was so great that I literally staggered and had to sit on the floor due to the extreme dizziness. I still can't really hear out of my right ear. It's like wearing a helmet full of water. Like poor Mr. Yorke in the "No Surprises" video. Sigh. Or more likely, splutter.
I'm still on the ferret bandwagon. I've built a dreamy cage that, heck-- I wouldn't mind living in. It's got three levels and a hammock and a tube and a litter box and and.... and I'm so darn lame. As much as I'll feel guilty about it, we're probably not going to get the critters from the ferret shelter after all. Most of the ones who end up in the shelter are at least 4 years old, which is considered geriatric in ferret-time. The main drawback to ferrets is that they're prone to various illnesses later in life. ie: I'd rather not bring them home from the shelter only to have them keel over from adrenal disease 2 weeks later. The guilt would be unbearable. Plus, I've never owned ferrets before. I ought to start out with younger, healthy ones. Regardless of where we get them, they will be Ferguson and Sashsa.
I was informed by a coworker the other day that while she was helping a college girl find some books for classes, the girl checked her list and declared, "Okay. The next thing I need is a threesis--you know---like a dictionary, where you look up a word to find another one like it?""
NEWSFLASH! ANGRY BUSINESSMAN THROWS TANTRUM!
I remember a few years ago when we were having problems with people spilling coffee all over books in sections, then sneaking away.... we made the obvious choice of requesting that people stay in the cafe unless they had to-go cups. One "gentleman," after telling the clerk that he wanted a mug, and yeah yeah yeah, he'd stay in the cafe and all that, wandered out onto the floor and proceeded to spill coffee on a stack of bestsellers.
Now, it drives me nuts. I'm generally a nice person. I don't want to make people feel dumb. But what if they are dumb? Not even then are we allowed to look someone up and down and say, "Do you need help, Fuckwit??" You would be amazed at some of the abuse people heap, simply because we cannot answer in kind.
In any case, a staff member thoughtfully asked the suit if he would like to freshen up his coffee and transfer it into a to-go cup so he could wander the store. Let's look at the facts, shall we?
1. Suit KNOWS the rules
2. Suit flouts the rules and makes a mess
3. Staff offers him free coffee and a new cup.
4. Suit ignores
5. Staff repeats request, reminding Suit of rule.
6. Suit berates staff
"I don't LIKE to-go cups! Are you telling me I'm CONFINED to the cafe just because of what I'm drinking out if?? You people think you can run my life?? Do you know who I AM?
7. Manager is called. Manager repeats free coffee offer and reminds Suit of rule. Gently asks Suit to please give our store the same respect that we would give were we in his home.
The Suit became livid. Several eye witnesses testified to the fact that fine wisps of steam
wafted from his ears. A large vein stood out on his forehead. He roared something unprintable, then stormed toward the door. On his way out, he snatched at a 6 foot tall revolving bookmark display and flung it petulantly to the floor. Merchandise scattered. Customers scattered.
K. called the police. They said if he ever returns to let him know he's banned, and call them. The next week, suit was back, leaving large rings of coffee on a Wallstreet Journal he hadn't purchased. K. Called the police, then informed the man that he needed to leave. Self righteous Suit protested to the cops when they arrived, insisting it was all made up just so he would look bad. Why pick on him? This is the first time he's even come to this store! So K. showed them the qued up security tape, where, in perfect focus...
Stompity stomp, yelling and roaring, flinging and leaving. Suit left very quickly and redly. We haven't seen him since. Thank heaven.
What can I say? Over the past few days I think I've experienced more phlegm than I have in the rest of my whole life put together. Miserable. The worst thing about it all is that since it's all taking place in my sinuses, my ears are begging to be popped. I gave in to the pressure a couple days ago and the change of pressure was so great that I literally staggered and had to sit on the floor due to the extreme dizziness. I still can't really hear out of my right ear. It's like wearing a helmet full of water. Like poor Mr. Yorke in the "No Surprises" video. Sigh. Or more likely, splutter.
I'm still on the ferret bandwagon. I've built a dreamy cage that, heck-- I wouldn't mind living in. It's got three levels and a hammock and a tube and a litter box and and.... and I'm so darn lame. As much as I'll feel guilty about it, we're probably not going to get the critters from the ferret shelter after all. Most of the ones who end up in the shelter are at least 4 years old, which is considered geriatric in ferret-time. The main drawback to ferrets is that they're prone to various illnesses later in life. ie: I'd rather not bring them home from the shelter only to have them keel over from adrenal disease 2 weeks later. The guilt would be unbearable. Plus, I've never owned ferrets before. I ought to start out with younger, healthy ones. Regardless of where we get them, they will be Ferguson and Sashsa.
I was informed by a coworker the other day that while she was helping a college girl find some books for classes, the girl checked her list and declared, "Okay. The next thing I need is a threesis--you know---like a dictionary, where you look up a word to find another one like it?""
NEWSFLASH! ANGRY BUSINESSMAN THROWS TANTRUM!
I remember a few years ago when we were having problems with people spilling coffee all over books in sections, then sneaking away.... we made the obvious choice of requesting that people stay in the cafe unless they had to-go cups. One "gentleman," after telling the clerk that he wanted a mug, and yeah yeah yeah, he'd stay in the cafe and all that, wandered out onto the floor and proceeded to spill coffee on a stack of bestsellers.
Now, it drives me nuts. I'm generally a nice person. I don't want to make people feel dumb. But what if they are dumb? Not even then are we allowed to look someone up and down and say, "Do you need help, Fuckwit??" You would be amazed at some of the abuse people heap, simply because we cannot answer in kind.
In any case, a staff member thoughtfully asked the suit if he would like to freshen up his coffee and transfer it into a to-go cup so he could wander the store. Let's look at the facts, shall we?
1. Suit KNOWS the rules
2. Suit flouts the rules and makes a mess
3. Staff offers him free coffee and a new cup.
4. Suit ignores
5. Staff repeats request, reminding Suit of rule.
6. Suit berates staff
"I don't LIKE to-go cups! Are you telling me I'm CONFINED to the cafe just because of what I'm drinking out if?? You people think you can run my life?? Do you know who I AM?
7. Manager is called. Manager repeats free coffee offer and reminds Suit of rule. Gently asks Suit to please give our store the same respect that we would give were we in his home.
The Suit became livid. Several eye witnesses testified to the fact that fine wisps of steam
wafted from his ears. A large vein stood out on his forehead. He roared something unprintable, then stormed toward the door. On his way out, he snatched at a 6 foot tall revolving bookmark display and flung it petulantly to the floor. Merchandise scattered. Customers scattered.
K. called the police. They said if he ever returns to let him know he's banned, and call them. The next week, suit was back, leaving large rings of coffee on a Wallstreet Journal he hadn't purchased. K. Called the police, then informed the man that he needed to leave. Self righteous Suit protested to the cops when they arrived, insisting it was all made up just so he would look bad. Why pick on him? This is the first time he's even come to this store! So K. showed them the qued up security tape, where, in perfect focus...
Stompity stomp, yelling and roaring, flinging and leaving. Suit left very quickly and redly. We haven't seen him since. Thank heaven.
Tuesday, February 11, 2003
Like, assassins must get, like, SO depressed sometimes.
I started into the third Robin Hobbs book today at the Secretary of State office, while waiting to renew the tags on the Boy's car (which we've been driving around illegally for the past few weeks). "Grk!" I said when I heard of it. But it's fixed now. All better. Whew.
Then the Boy mentions offhandedly that his drivers license is expired too.
*sigh*
I must say that it's very kooky to drive a Cadillac around, no matter how old. For those of you who weren't aware, the Boy received the caddy for free from the non-profit place he worked. People were constantly donating cars for the tax write-off, and after his ancient rust heap of a van nearly killed him, his boss said the next donated car was his. Ding! Caddy! Thus the weird discrepancy of us--penniless, driving a Caddy-- rich old people car. The world is a strange and unpredictable place. What makes driving it odd is that people obviously expect you to be something else. You just get different kind of looks from people when you drive a car like that.
Especially when you try to pay with all change at the drive through.
I started into the third Robin Hobbs book today at the Secretary of State office, while waiting to renew the tags on the Boy's car (which we've been driving around illegally for the past few weeks). "Grk!" I said when I heard of it. But it's fixed now. All better. Whew.
Then the Boy mentions offhandedly that his drivers license is expired too.
*sigh*
I must say that it's very kooky to drive a Cadillac around, no matter how old. For those of you who weren't aware, the Boy received the caddy for free from the non-profit place he worked. People were constantly donating cars for the tax write-off, and after his ancient rust heap of a van nearly killed him, his boss said the next donated car was his. Ding! Caddy! Thus the weird discrepancy of us--penniless, driving a Caddy-- rich old people car. The world is a strange and unpredictable place. What makes driving it odd is that people obviously expect you to be something else. You just get different kind of looks from people when you drive a car like that.
Especially when you try to pay with all change at the drive through.
Saturday, February 08, 2003
RIP, Puddleglum. No more fish. Gawd. I don't want to talk about it.
And yet, I do.
As much as I've been trying not to think about it, the petrifying thought has been circling like a shark in my unwilling mind: If Snidely has an arm, then is it possible he has a little (shudder) hand?? And if he has that, then it seems conceivable that he could have a (God forbid!) tiny gun as well??
I mean, look at the facts, people! Five.... count them-- FIVE questionable deaths in the last few weeks, and the only survivor in the place is a sinister snail who seems as though he knows more than he's letting on.
PICTURE IT.
Snidely: Stick 'em up!!
Puddleglum: Good heavens! (the color drains from him)
Two enormous, distorted yet concerned faces appear to hover outside the glass. A look of horror washes briefly over them, and they jerk quickly away. From somewhere above, a disembodied voice says, "It's definitely time to check my email."
Snidely: Har har! Bang Bang!
Puddleglum: OW! (glub glub..) If anyone needs me, I'll be floating at the bottom of the bowl, dead.
I think there's surely enough evidence to make a case. I'm also throwing out that particular fish bowl, just to be safe. Snidely now resides alone in a mason jar. I think this was his plan all along.
Brrr.
And yet, I do.
As much as I've been trying not to think about it, the petrifying thought has been circling like a shark in my unwilling mind: If Snidely has an arm, then is it possible he has a little (shudder) hand?? And if he has that, then it seems conceivable that he could have a (God forbid!) tiny gun as well??
I mean, look at the facts, people! Five.... count them-- FIVE questionable deaths in the last few weeks, and the only survivor in the place is a sinister snail who seems as though he knows more than he's letting on.
PICTURE IT.
Snidely: Stick 'em up!!
Puddleglum: Good heavens! (the color drains from him)
Two enormous, distorted yet concerned faces appear to hover outside the glass. A look of horror washes briefly over them, and they jerk quickly away. From somewhere above, a disembodied voice says, "It's definitely time to check my email."
Snidely: Har har! Bang Bang!
Puddleglum: OW! (glub glub..) If anyone needs me, I'll be floating at the bottom of the bowl, dead.
I think there's surely enough evidence to make a case. I'm also throwing out that particular fish bowl, just to be safe. Snidely now resides alone in a mason jar. I think this was his plan all along.
Brrr.
Thursday, February 06, 2003
There seems to be a trend developing. Multiple people have recently been completely flummoxed by the title/author info of the same book. For example: I was putzing about... guess where? At the information desk, of course. As usual. (side note: no...I haven't been banished to "information desk purgatory." It's actually one of the only places in the store that I don't risk injuring myself after last summer's back surgery. I actually quite like it. I get to chat with lots of nice people, get condescended to by a few rude ones, and stay on top of what's current in the literary world.)
In any case: info desk. A lady inquired as to whether I might have the book entitled Lonely Legs. Grrk! All else aside, that is enough to warrant a few snickers. Lonely Legs! I successfully smothered a snicker. I refrained from querying, "Might it be found in the 'Relationships' section?" Instead I nodded sagely and began the attempt to look it up. I failed to find the title in any of the several programs we employ to locate books. Not in print, not out of print, not anything. I began to get suspicious. After all... LONELY LEGS, people. I then changed tack-- "Is it possible that there's another word in the title, or one might you have misremembered?
Pause. "No...I don't think s... Oh! Try Lovely Legs."
Oh my. I had an inkling. "Is this book, by any chance, the bestselling semi-autobiographical story of a 14 year old girl's murder and subsequent life in heaven, from where she watches her family cope with her tragic demise? Yes?"
And that would be...Alice Sebold's The LOVELY BONES. Lord only knows.
Likewise, a gentleman approached later to ask if I might help him find a book his wife had just requested on the phone: Allison Blog. Odd. I did the requisite fruitless search before I turned to him. "Is it possible there is another word in the title blah blah blah?" He thought a moment. " It could be Allison Blood, I guess. I couldn't really hear her that well on the phone."
A tiny light in a little room in a house in the neighbor hood at the far side of a city in my head went on. A tiny light in a little room where most of the bestsellers are kept.
(Aside: not that some of those books don't merit...well, merit... It's just that bestsellers are a breed of book unto themselves. The sort of thing that a bookseller must know not only by title, but by color and essence. When someone wanders confusedly over and asks for "that yellowy-greeny book" you must know to hand them the Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle. And when someone in a suit asks for 17 copies of "Who Cut My Cheese?" You must be able to, with a straight face, hand them the right amount of Who Moved My Cheese by Johnson and Blanchard. Secret Knowlege: The blue book about this big is The Lovely Bones but if it's about this big, it's The Blue Day Book. "The book with the horse" is the long awaited 5th prehistoric smut tome from Jean Auel called Shelters of Stone. And as much as you want to plead, "Look! Jose Saramago, or For God's sake! Look! Fredrick Buechner! There may not be a poorly painted horse on the cover, but I swear it's literature! You can't. End of aside.)
Allison Blood... Back to what the tiny light in the little room suggested. I cleared my throat. "Is this book, by any chance, the bestselling semi-autobiographical story of a 14 year old girl's murder and subsequent life in heaven, from where she watches her family cope with her tragic demise? Yes?"
That would be ALICE SEBOLD's The Lovely Bones. Enough already.
In an effort to increase my dorkiness quotient, I have begun playing Final Fantasy 9. Again. What can I say? I like it. I like most of the characters. The side quests don't make me gnaw my own arm off, and I have a weird obsession with chocabo upgrades.
So did I mention that to replace the pretty little fish who all died prematurely in a bowl on our bookshelf, I bought a gorgeous blue/red betta named Puddleglum? I pulled Snidely out and he skulked around in a mug of water while I scoured the bowl and removed the river rocks, which I was beginning to suspect had some toxic effect on fish. I replaced them with a bunch of shiny, tiny beadlike white things I bought specially that the fish store along with Puddleglum. I then placed both inhabitants and water in the bowl and peered hopefully in. Everything appeared normal. Until Snidlely tried to glide, svengali-like, across the floor of the bowl, and discovered that due to how small and light the shiny beads were, he only succeeded in floundering around and creating a teetering mound of beads, glued together by the byproducts of his angry struggles. Instead of him having something to hold onto, they were holding onto him. Now I'm no snail psychologist, but I'm pretty sure he was VERY angry. I gently propelled him to the glass wall with a chopstick which I then dried carefully and replaced in the silverware drawer. (NO! I threw it out! What are you thinking??)
He's stuck (literally) to the walls since then. There was a horrifying moment this afternoon when I glanced into the tank to see that Puddleglum had lost most of his color. I don't want to talk about it. When the Boy had comforted me through the wailing about never touching anything live again and getting myself sterilized in case I did this to my future children ("But they don't live in bowls," he reassured me) we ventured to look into the bowl to find that Snidely had extended... a ...something. Now, I've watched Snidely. (in terror, sometimes) He's got a head, with two eyes and those little whiskery things, and then two long feelers. This was...not...them. It was an armlike thing, like what comes out of a clam or something. It waved around. We both jerked back a couple of steps. Then the Boy blinked and said, "It's definitely time to check my email." We have not spoken of it since. Nor will we ever.
Sunday, February 02, 2003
Another day, another bloody maze...
Hrumph. I must needs be off to a store meeting soon, where I doubtless will be shown valuable information about how much we get ripped off and how people accomplish it.
It's beyond me why people bother to steal music now-a-days when the internet exists.
I've been researching ferrets for the past few days. They're quite interesting little beasties. The Boy is allergic to cats, so I wouldn't presume to look into getting one. People who are allergic to cats say that they're not affected the same way by ferrets. There is the smell issue, but that can be taken care of with certain dietary supplements in the water or food. They can also be housebroken. We drove down to a pet store on 12 mile to look at some, and ended up playing with them for a little while before going to an incredibly kitchy dive for a dinner of perogis. (sp?) I'm feindishly plotting to perhaps get a pair of ferrets in the future from a ferret shelter in Oak Park. Oooo, plans!
What can I say? I have a big fat crush on Garth Nix. I'm highly tempted to ask him if anyone has approached him about creating an RPG based in the world of Sabriel, but I'm tooo shyyyy! I think I must give Shade's Children another try. The first time I started into it I wasn't terribly impressed, but that was a bad time for reading in general for me. I think that everyone ought to experience the choose your own but get someone else's adventure he has on his homepage. En garde!
The other day an employee reported to several of us that he'd had a frustrated customer try to return a book. "This is riduculous!" the man complained, "would you look at this? The print is all upside down in this book!" On and on... this hasn't been the first time he's has to return a book like this, and why can't the publishers get some quality control? etc. etc...., when my colleague gently pulled the book from his hands, removed the dust jacket, and replaced the dust jacket right side up.
Hrumph. I must needs be off to a store meeting soon, where I doubtless will be shown valuable information about how much we get ripped off and how people accomplish it.
It's beyond me why people bother to steal music now-a-days when the internet exists.
I've been researching ferrets for the past few days. They're quite interesting little beasties. The Boy is allergic to cats, so I wouldn't presume to look into getting one. People who are allergic to cats say that they're not affected the same way by ferrets. There is the smell issue, but that can be taken care of with certain dietary supplements in the water or food. They can also be housebroken. We drove down to a pet store on 12 mile to look at some, and ended up playing with them for a little while before going to an incredibly kitchy dive for a dinner of perogis. (sp?) I'm feindishly plotting to perhaps get a pair of ferrets in the future from a ferret shelter in Oak Park. Oooo, plans!
What can I say? I have a big fat crush on Garth Nix. I'm highly tempted to ask him if anyone has approached him about creating an RPG based in the world of Sabriel, but I'm tooo shyyyy! I think I must give Shade's Children another try. The first time I started into it I wasn't terribly impressed, but that was a bad time for reading in general for me. I think that everyone ought to experience the choose your own but get someone else's adventure he has on his homepage. En garde!
The other day an employee reported to several of us that he'd had a frustrated customer try to return a book. "This is riduculous!" the man complained, "would you look at this? The print is all upside down in this book!" On and on... this hasn't been the first time he's has to return a book like this, and why can't the publishers get some quality control? etc. etc...., when my colleague gently pulled the book from his hands, removed the dust jacket, and replaced the dust jacket right side up.
Saturday, February 01, 2003
Oh. Finally the MegaTokyo book is within my reach! It is on hold for me at work. Now if only I could afford it. That and the Koyaanisqatsi dvd that's finally come out. Both very beautiful. Both must be mine.
Of Mice and Men
The best laid plans oft go awry. What is it about shock and horror that causes the hand-flying-to-cover-the-mouth reaction? For some of us anyway. I remember walking around most of 9-11 like that. It happened this morning with the announcement that the Columbia was missing and suspected to be broken up, all crew members lost. I drove to work like that, the hand over the mouth. Am I trying to hold something in? Keep something out?
Thank God it wasn't an act of terrorism. I don't doubt that if it were, we'd be marching into Iraq tomorrow.
Instead of shelving and thinking, I dicked around and read bits of some of the disinformation books. Such incredibly weird stuff. It must be such a burden to really truly believe that the world is flat and that reptoids have infiltrated the highest levels of government. And to know that terrible things are about to happen, but nobody believes you. I can't imagine living with the weight of that.
The best laid plans oft go awry. What is it about shock and horror that causes the hand-flying-to-cover-the-mouth reaction? For some of us anyway. I remember walking around most of 9-11 like that. It happened this morning with the announcement that the Columbia was missing and suspected to be broken up, all crew members lost. I drove to work like that, the hand over the mouth. Am I trying to hold something in? Keep something out?
Thank God it wasn't an act of terrorism. I don't doubt that if it were, we'd be marching into Iraq tomorrow.
Instead of shelving and thinking, I dicked around and read bits of some of the disinformation books. Such incredibly weird stuff. It must be such a burden to really truly believe that the world is flat and that reptoids have infiltrated the highest levels of government. And to know that terrible things are about to happen, but nobody believes you. I can't imagine living with the weight of that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)