…the mice will play (and rant!)!

I know, I’ve been gone forever!!

I did not die, I promise.

I’ve pondered murder once or twice though. ;)

I hope everyone is doing beautifully and gearing up for a fabulous summer. I intend on spending mine in my air conditioned house as it’s too damn hot outside.

Okay, so while I’ve been toiling away at the day job 15 hours a day (which greatly prohibits me from enjoying myself in my real life, dammit!) I’ve come across some shit I just have to share. I’m going to try to keep it to a list form so it’s not a tome, but you guys know I can go on and on and on… ;)

1. McDonalds: KEEP YOUR FILTHY FUCKIN’ HANDS OFF MY DESSERT!!!

So, I only eat McDonald’s about twice a year cause that shit’ll kill you, but I do occasionally swing by to get a kiddie-sized cone. They’re super adorable, 45 calories and just enough to quench my craving. (Side note: once I type something incorrectly it takes me 15 tries to get it right. I had to type the word “enough” literally about 9 times before typing it correctly. Blasted non-working appendages!) Okay, so back to McD’s.

I went to the one in the Wallymart and ordered a kiddie cone. The young man who goes to make it was, and I kid you not, just emptying the trash. So, he grabs the cone with his filth covered, un-gloved mitts and puts the ice cream in it. THEN he sets it down on the freaking counter that people sneeze, cough and set their children’s grubby butts on. Why didn’t he just wipe his ass with it and then hand it to me?

So, I look at the girl behind the counter and say, “I’m totally not a germaphobe. I’ll eat stuff that’s been on my kitchen floor for 3 days. But would you mind making me a kiddie cone since you weren’t just emptying the trash? And would you mind not setting it on the counter?” She smiles, seemingly genuinely, and says sure.

On her way to grab the cone she sneezes wildly. Of course. But in an effort to not dirty her hands she doesn’t cover her nose and mouth, so great mists of snot just go EVERYWHERE! You can see the mist glittering in the overhead light. And what do you think she sneezed on besides half the country? Yep. All of the unwrapped kiddie cones.

Does this deter her? Nope. She picks up a snot covered nightmare, fills it with ice cream, doesn’t even consider wearing gloves or holding the now-wet cone with a napkin, and hands it to me and says, “I totally understand. I wouldn’t want to eat anything off that counter either.”

Can we all just say it together? Fuck me. No cone for Jodi today!

2. People in General: IF YOU DON’T FUCKIN’ KNOW WHAT A PSYCHOLOGICAL TERM ACTUALLY MEANS, DON’T FUCKIN’ USE IT!

I’m lucky enough to have to interact with an asshat (“enough” only took 7 tries this time!) on a daily basis. This person makes me wanna pull my eyes out of my head, then slam my blind noggin into plate glass because the pain of that is far less than putting up with their dumb ass. It’s like interacting with a narcissistic monkey trained to torment me to the point of self-mutilation.

Somehow, I typically get to be the lucky recipient of the preponderance of this person’s shit. And the other day, while whining like a small child who didn’t get a second cookie before dinner, this person tells me that I’m passive aggressive. HA! Now, I gotta tell you…I’ve been called a lot of things in life (luckily, most of them have not been unkind) but passive aggressive? Have you guys ever known me to be passive aggressive? Aggressive? Sure. I’m no wilting flower. But passive aggressive?

Passive aggressive is the mother-in-law who, while dragging her white-gloved finger across the top of your door frame, looks at you with a big smile and says, “Oh, how lovely. You found the time after all that shopping you do to clean the house. What a good wife you are to my son.” Of course, you wanna kill the bitch, but she says it so sweetly–even though you and I (and she) know it’s layered with a million small cuts that will eventually be the end of you.

So, for all the asshats out there with which I am forced to deal, here are a few definitions of passive aggressive. If you’re going to insult me, at least get it right.

  • Of or denoting a type of behavior or personality characterized by indirect resistance to the demands of others and an avoidance of direct confrontation, as in procrastinating, pouting, or misplacing important materials.
  • Being marked by or displaying behavior characterized by the expression of negative feelings, resentment, and aggression in an unassertive passive way (as through procrastination and stubbornness).
  • Behavior that is exhibited by a person who is dissatisfied, uncooperative or unhappy but who doesn’t want to be overtly mean or rude. Instead, the person behaves in a subtly contrary way.

So, now that we’ve seen it in black and white, how on God’s green earth does this describe me?

My guess is that this person tried to figure out something to say that they hoped would be insulting to me while making them seem intelligent and abused by mean old me. Hmmmmm…you’re talking to the wrong person, buddy. What a fucknut.

3: Teddy bears (which should be ONE WORD, dammit!) are the most awesome thing on earth.

I have made it my mission to buy every 1987 Gund Daisy Cow teddy bear I can find. I have 7 of them.

Yes, I’m quite certain that makes me insane, or very close to it.

I’m sure I probably need some sort of medication. But I love those damn things so much! And I want to rescue them from homes that no longer want them. Who would SELL a teddy bear? That’s jacked up. But, I’m lucky people do cause I snatch ’em up. And there’s nothing really wrong with selling a teddy. I just can’t bear to let any of them escape me and my clutches! ;)

4: I’m totally happy for and supportive of Bruce Jenner–you do your thing and have a joyful life…but…

In his interview with Diane Sawyer he’s essentially asking people to accept him for who he is, not judge, and understand that everyone is different and that that’s not just okay but should be celebrated. I could not agree more. You guys know I don’t care about anyone’s religion, race, sexuality (but leave the sheep alone please…they can’t consent! ;) ). I truly believe people should be encouraged to be who they are and achieve all the joy they can get out of a pretty tough world. Acceptance of other people is one of the single greatest gifts you can give to yourself and everyone else on the planet. (Okay, getting off my soapbox!) :)

BUT! If you are going to ask for people to be non-judgmental, then maybe you should practice what you preach. There was a scene where he was talking about beating the Russian in the Olympics and he mentions that he ran into the same Russian 30 or so years later. Then he laughs and brings up how the Russian had gotten fat, so he (Bruce) won twice because he’s still in great shape.

Ummm…so not cool. You can judge people for being in their 60s and being overweight–we aren’t supposed to look 20 forever!–but you want no one to judge you? How about you start with kindness towards others first?

I was very disappointed. But I still hope he finds great joy, love and a tremendous amount of support.

5. Jamie Dornan is NOT MY CHRISTIAN GREY!!!! ;)

I know. Shut up! Not a good movie. But I had to. It was like the Twilight books. Had to read them. Had to watch the movies, even though I, honest to God, laughed my ass off throughout the entire first movie. It looked like they’d just hosed the vamps down with baby powder. Truly funny. Anyway, there’s no accounting for my taste and I make no excuses! Sometimes a girl has to step away from Dante and read some juicy shit.

But, why couldn’t Jax from Sons of Anarchy have stayed cast as Mr. Grey? He didn’t exactly fit the mold either, but damn…that would have made the movie more tolerable. Jax is kinda pretty, ya know. And while I rarely comment on the prettiness of another man out of respect to the hubby, I think they look a little bit alike, so I don’t think I should feel bad for commenting on Jax’s hotness. ;)

 

I will say this about the movie…in one scene he says to the girl something to the effect of, “I’d like to fuck you into the middle of next week.”

Uhhhh…mmmm…yeah. That’s a good thing to say. I think any man with a willing woman should go say that to her right now. Total yum! Lust is very underrated. ;) Quit reading this and go bang your hot woman!

Okay, I’ve typed my fingers bloody. Must go watch some TV and let the brain relax.

Love you guys and I hope you all have a wonderful (and long if you are in the States) weekend.

HUGS!! XOXOXOXO

PS: Wednesday morning at 4:35 am I awoke to the sound of my kitty horking up a hair ball. Then one minute later woke up further to the cold, wet spew of her vomit in my hair, on my neck and running down my cleavage. So, if you see me on Cops being arrested for kitty-i-cide, you now know why. ;)

I have officially seen it all. Good grief.

Okay, so those of you who know me know that as far a I’m concerned, women never have to “use the bathroom” for anything besides powdering their noses.

I don’t like bathroom talk.

If I could, I’d pretend bathrooms don’t exist.

I don’t wanna know what goes on it one, why I shouldn’t “go in there for 20 minutes” or anything else related to bathroom things. It’s just gross.

Otters

In Heaven I WILL ROLL AROUND WITH OTTERS!!!

You guys have heard me before say that my idea of heaven is that when I die God will let me play with a truckload of non-pooping otters. It’s not heaven if they poop on you.puking dog

So, needless to say when I saw the latest Cottonelle ad I almost threw up in my mouth, out of my mouth, on to the cats and all over the floor.

Seriously, don’t we all know the purpose of toilet paper?

I kinda wanna kill her. ;)

I kinda wanna kill her. ;)

Do we really need a commercial where a girl in white pants, who has clearly snorted too much blow, asks a man if he thinks this new TP  is so good that he can go commando? (Cause there are just so many new fangled things one can do to TP to make it tons better—ugh, idiots.) And I love that they picked someone with a delightfully cheery British accent…does that somehow make it more proper to discuss your bowels and what they do?? Good Lord…

Anyway, apparently, rippled TP is the first and only difference between having a poopy butt and not having one. Does this mean we’ve all walked around nasty our entire lives until this particular TP? Yay! Saved by new TP! Now I can have a friend or two because I’m not basking in my own glorious filth all day, every day.

While I am loathe to give this gross and disgusting company any publicity, click on Miss Poo’s jolly face to watch the revolting video where, when you get down to it, she’s asking strangers, “Can you wipe your ass well enough to not get filth all over the inside of your pants?” I mean, c’mon people? Really? Is NOTHING SACRED ANYMORE!!!???? Must we talk about mookie stinks making a permanent home on your panties in such graphic and disgusting detail on television???

So, here’s what I vote for.

Below is the kind of TP ad I wanna see (though I’d rather see none at all!).

The TV screen would be all white with a still shot of a roll of pristine TP (and maybe an otter or two) and it would have a voiceover that read:

Hi.

This TP is not made of razor blades.

This TP will not cause you to bleed, get herpes or go insane.

Use it like you’ve been using TP for decades and it’ll do about the same thing that all others do.

Oh, it’s a little softer, if you like that kind of thing.

Now, go back to your happy life and forget I’ve just spent 15 seconds talking about your ass and its relationship with TP.

Thank you and good night.

That’s all I need to know, dammit!

I need nothing more than that and I’m good.

So can we please just say no to these kinds of ads?

Plus, I’m a Charmin girl anyway.

I had an 11th grade student of mine 100 years ago when I taught high school write a poem about me and my butt being squeezable like Charmin*. Lordy, those kids were wonderfully inappropriate. Anyway, I’ve been a Charmin girl ever since cause it still makes me giggle.

Okay, no more butt talk. I’m out.

*Click here to hear Mr. Whipple yet at women for squeezing the Charmin. ;)

Kick Butt Radio Time!

How do, everyone? I hope you guys are having a great week. It’s hump day! Yay!

So, as I may have mentioned one or a hundred times, I’ve been SWAMPED at the office.

Good grief, it’s like we have 10 minutes to run a marathon. And you guys know I’m not big on the running. ;)

But, I was lucky enough to carve a half hour out of my day today (I am allowed a lunch break at least once a year…right??) to go on SiriusXM with the wonderful Kim Power Stilson. She was so much fun to talk with–we dished about food for 30 minutes–no pun intended. ;)

Not only was she great, but her production staff is so nice too. It was just a great time.

So, because I’ve got nothin’ but food on my mind (which kinda blows as I’m on a diet, but I did lick the top of a cupcake today–I just couldn’t resist!) I’m going to do two things.

First, here is a link to the radio show. Click HERE to listen.

Second, I’m gonna share a recipe from the cookbook. Mmmm…food…yum…

This is straight out of Darn Good Eats, story and all. I hope you like it. It is my very favorite cake on earth. And, believe it or not, I’ve actually made it one or two times myself. Shocking, I know. ENJOY!!

Happy Birthday Coffee Ice Cream Cake

When I was 5 years old I met a wonderful little girl in kindergarten named Eden. Who would have guessed that meeting her would lead me to my all-time favorite cake? Her mom, Edie, hooked up my mom with this recipe and my sweet, precious mommy has made it for me many times over the years for my birthday.

My mom was shocked that as a little girl I liked it because it has coffee ice cream in it. I barely like coffee as an adult, but this coffee ice cream cake is perfection. And it doesn’t really taste like coffee. You know you are tasting something beyond chocolate, but it’s hard to put your finger on what that flavor is.

I hope that you love it as much as I do. Every time I take a bite of it, I’m pulled back down memory lane to my childhood where I’m blowing out candles and devouring this wonderful creation. I hope it becomes a birthday staple in your family too.

Coffee Icecream Cake

Ingredients:

  • 1 stick of butter
  • 1 cup of white, granulated sugar
  • 4 eggs
  • 2 teaspoons of vanilla extract (the REAL stuff…no imitation vanilla)
  • 1 can (16 ounces) of Hershey’s Syrup™ (use the stuff in the can if you can find it, it tastes much better than the syrup in the plastic bottle)
  • I cup of flour
  • 1½ teaspoons baking powder
  • A dash of salt
  • 1/2 gallon, or slightly less, of good coffee ice cream
  • 6 ounces of semi-sweet chocolate chips (use Nestle™)
  • 2 tablespoons of Crisco™ Shortening

Directions:

  1. Preheat the oven to 350 °F.
  2. Cream together the butter and the sugar in a large bowl.
  3. Add the eggs, vanilla and Hershey’s Syrup to the bowl and stir until well mixed.
  4. Add the flour, baking powder and salt to the bowl and mix everything together until well blended.
  5. Pour into a greased 9×13 baking dish and bake at 350 °F for 25 – 30 minutes.
  6. When it’s done, remove from the oven, let it cool and then cover it and put it in the freezer (not the fridge, but the freezer).
  7. Once the cake is frozen, let the ice cream sit on the counter until it is soft (not melted).
  8. Spread the ice cream onto the cake and put back in the freezer.
  9. In a sauce pan over low heat or in a double boiler, melt the chocolate chips and Crisco™ Shortening together, constantly stirring until fully melted and smooth.
  10. Take the cake out of the freezer and drizzle the melted chocolate all over it.
  11. Put the cake back in the freezer.
  12. Serve frozen (it will be hard as a brick when you first take it out of the freezer but it will be perfect after the slices have sat out for a couple of minutes).

Not only is this cake simply fantastic, but it is so rich that it lasts for quite some time. As much as I love this cake, I only cut about a 2 inch x 2 inch piece when I eat it. It is incredibly flavorful and a small piece is usually all it takes to have a full belly and happy tastebuds.

The Horrors of my Noggin and the Related Panic Attack

I’m telling you, life is NEVER dull. ;) Not that I wish to be bored, but c’mon, a little peace now and again is a good thing.

So, 3 weeks ago I got my hair dyed.

It’s pretty much been every color in the rainbow over the last 30 years.

My very first “boyfriend” told me one day that, “You’d be perfect if only you were blonde.” Of course what did I do? I immediately went and dyed it blonde and just as immediately realized that blonde is NOT a good look on me. Eeeee gawds, it was a nightmare. Especially with my personality.

If some guy said that to me today I’d verbally cut him until he crawled home crying for his mommy, dragging his entrails behind him. But I was 14 then and always concerned with being as perfect as possible. Thank God I don’t worry about that shit anymore. Take me as I am or fuck off. I rather like that mantra! ;)

I went to get the blonde nightmare fixed a few days later and ended up with 3 different colors of hair. I don’t know why the fix-it hair dyeing adventure turned into such a fiasco, but the good news was that my mom understood that I couldn’t go into public and she let me skip school for a week until I could wash a bunch of it out of my hair. Best Mom Ever Award for that! :)

Over the years it’s been light brown with highlights, black, dark brown, that purpley-red color, accidentally green (yep, that sucked as much as you’d think), red, and so on. I get bored easily with my hair color. Now, the style’s been the same for 20 years and will probably be the same until I die. But the color? That I like to mess with.

So, when I got my hair dyed a few weeks ago I went with a blue black. I wanted that shit dark dark dark. My chick used the same brand of dye she always does and everything seemed okay.

Then a few days later I noticed this weird thing on my forehead right by my hairline. It looked like a skin-colored scrape about 1/3 of an inch in diameter. As I was looking at it thinking, “Please God–no skin cancer. I know I tanned my ridiculously white skin a lot when growing up, but I haven’t had a tan in 20 years. Please spare me skin cancer…” I noticed all these black dots on my scalp. What the fuck? Hmmm…they didn’t look like the typical dye blotches that appear on my scalp after a hair color. These were tiny little specks like someone took a Sharpie and put dots on my noggin.

Well, whatever. I’ll just scrub my head harder next time I wash it to get the dye off.

Uhhh…the dots didn’t come off after the next shampoo. Or the next 5 shampoos.

Finally, after 3 weeks I’m like, “What in the ever-loving shit is on my fuckin’ head?” As we know, I’ve been dyeing my hair for 30 years. I’d never seen anything like it. So I had to investigate.

Can I just tell you…NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER Google something like “black spots on scalp.” NEVER! It’s horrifying.

I went from “Hmmm…that looks odd” to “HOLY FUCKING HELL WHAT THE FUCK OH MY GOD I’M DYING THIS IS AWFUL HOW DID THIS HAPPEN WHY ME SOMEONE KILL ME THIS FUCKING SUCKS.” Yep…all one sentence.

When you Google “black spots on scalp” you learn that you’d be better off dead than with the host of things that come up as possible diseases or conditions.

Keep in mind that I typically stick to sites like WebMD or Mayo Clinic for medical advice as I feel they are likely a bit more accurate than, ‘Jodi’s dumb ass blog on weird stuff,” but even those scared the shit out of me.

Some of the suggestions were: Mold (WHAT THE FUCK???). Fungus (I WANT TO DIE). Ringworm (This is when the panic set in).

All of the sites also mentioned itching. My head didn’t itch before I read that. Now it was as if spiders were crawling around on my head. I know, totally psychosomatic, and I kept trying to rationalize it, but I was scared shitless, so a bit of irrational was starting to slip through.

Then Grant gets home and I tell him what’s going on. He grabs a flashlight and tells me I have black dots ALL OVER MY HEAD!!! I thought it was just that one small spot, but nope. They are EVERYFUCKINGWHERE! Oh, the horror!

So, I immediately got on the phone to schedule an appointment with a dermatologist. If I fucking have any of those things I wanted it diagnosed immediately and then I wanted someone to decapitate me.

Of course, out of the 6 I called, 3 didn’t answer the phone (I’m thinking their businesses are covers for drug running, otherwise how do they stay in business?), 2 sent me to voicemail (how can they close on a Tuesday before 4 pm? Must be nice…) and the last one kept me on hold for, and I kid you not, 15 minutes. 4 times people picked up the line and I’d repeat, “Hi, I’m calling to make an appointment as a new patient,” and they’d always say, “Just a minute,” and I’d wait 5 more. I wanted to smash something violently. First off, what shitty customer service. Secondly, I’VE GOT MOTHERFUCKING FUNGUS, MOLD OR WORMS ON MY MOTHERFUCKING HEAD. SOMEONE NEEDS TO HELP ME BEFORE I PASS OUT FROM HORROR!!!

And of course in the meanwhile I’m terrified to touch my head, lean it onto a pillow, let my husband anywhere near me. I made him throw away his brush cause I’d used it earlier in the day. He tried to hug me and I yelped, “NO! You’ll get the Mange!”

Finally, the idiots at the dermatologist’s office get back on the phone and they can’t see me for a week.

Ummmm…no. That’s too long. I’ll run into traffic by then. I’ll shave my head. I’ll die of terror and fear!

So, I make the appointment anyway and then rush out of the house to go to Urgent Care. By now it’s after 5pm and no doctor in the state is open except Urgent Care. And I was sincerely starting to have a panic attack at the idea of a foreign body making its home in my head. God bless Valium.

When I get to the first one, I open the door to what I can only assume was an outbreak of The Plague. So I said, “Uh, fuck this,” and left and went to another one where everyone looked like they were suffering from Ebola. Damn flu season. So, fuck that one too. I just went home and wouldn’t let anyone or anything near me until I could get in to see someone in the morning.

Finally, morning comes ’round (after a lovely night chocked full of wormy, fungus-filled dreams) and I get an appointment to see a doc.

I go there at 10:30 and they are so nice and lovely. The doc comes in and I explain what’s going on.

She looks at my head and says, “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Great. I’m a medical mystery full of fungus and mold and worms and God knows what.

Then she plays a bit with my noggin and determines that the dye (which is some stubborn-ass dye) had grabbed hold of all the new baby hairs growing out of my scalp and gotten kind of stuck at the follicle (if you’ll recall I mentioned earlier in the year that I had a bunch of hair loss due to thyroid and iron/protein deficiencies). The hair was just a tiny bit of a millimeter long and hardly even out of my scalp yet, so the dye clung to those tiny pieces of hair and went down a bit into the skin. This was why it wasn’t easily washing off in the shower.

Can I tell you that I have rarely been more relieved in my entire life? EVER! I wanted to hump her in thanks for her awesome diagnosis.

She said she could see why I’d have been terrified, but that I’m good to go and that she wished all her appointments ended on such a happy note.

Whew!!!!

What an absolute cluster-fuck. I had told Grant that I just could not take one more medical issue and was going to snap from the stress. Luckily, I have a wonderful hubby who was supportive even when we did think I had The Funk. Thank God it was just some weird dyeing anomaly and I am worm-mold-fungus free! Yay!!!!

So, that’s my saga. I’m just happy that my noggin is good to go. I’m quite certain I couldn’t have handled any other outcome because they were just too damn gross!

Have a happy weekend, my friends! XOXOXXOXO

Sucky Customer Service Reps Can KISS MY ASS!

So, I try to never leave the house.couch potato kitty I find staying at home keeps me happy and healthy and less stressed. Plus, if I go out then I have to put on makeup and brush my hair…it’s just so much to worry about. Okay, half-kidding here, but seriously, I’ve spent the majority of my life ripping and running about so it’s nice to be able to stay home a fair amount of the time. And today is a perfect example of why I like to remain on my sofa.

dye job

I got my hair dyed on Monday. While it looks pretty, it’s not what I wanted it to look like. So I got in my car and drove to Sally Beauty supply. It’s about a 15-20 minute drive, but I figured it was worth the extra time in the car during rush hour to get help from the experts.

Well…I coulda asked my cat Moopy and gotten more help.Moopy

I walked into the store and there wasn’t a soul to be seen. I could have robbed the place blind were I so inclined. I said, “Hello,” in a very nice voice and I got a, “Hey,” said back to me. And that was it. I still didn’t see a human anywhere.

So I said, “Can you please help me with some hair color?” She finally comes out of the back room and I explain what I’m looking for (which was a black hair dye with a blue undertone). She said, “I’ve never heard of that. Here use this.” And she hands me bright blue hair dye. I mean solid electric blue hair dye. So I explained I meant blue/black. (Every fuckin’ manufacturer in the world makes it.) She said, “Look, I’ve really got to get back to what I was doing,” and she walks away.

Moments later I hear her say into the phone, “Yeah baby. I’m back (insert grunt here). So, (insert gum smacking noise) what do you want for dinner?”

My head about popped the fuck off. Grumpy CatREALLY? REALLY? That’s what kept you from being even slightly friendly or helpful? You are seriously getting paid to essentially tell me to go fuck myself while you sit in the back room, smacking gum and chatting with your boyfriend about dinner? I wanted to go in there and rip her head off and then shove it up her ass. Alas, I just stuffed my pockets full of expensive make-up and left.

KIDDING!!!!! I’m the kind of person who gives money back to the store if they give me a dime too much in change. But I’m telling you, she wouldn’t have given a rat’s ass if I had. What a hideous employee.

Then, on to my next stop: TJMaxx.

I had to return 2 rings. So I get in the return line, wait for almost 10 minutes, get to the front and the very polite girl says, “Oh, you have to go to jewelry to return it.”

Okay, fine. Not her fault and she was nice, so I was polite, thanked her for the help and went to the jewelry department.

Where I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Finally after about 8-9 minutes a girl comes up and asks if she can help. She was very nice and smiley, returned my rings with no problem. And when we were done returning she asked if I wanted to see something else. I told her I’d scoped out a few necklaces and rings I wanted to see and was ready to try them on.

About that time a girl walks up to the counter and the chick who’s helping me turns around and talks to her for about 5 minutes about her shoes. Happy feetNOT KIDDING at all. For fuck’s sake. Really? I’m sorry your feet aren’t happy. You poor thing. Mine aren’t very happy either standing here waiting on your rude ass.

Then she finished up her very important, “My feet are sore” conversation and I say, “Hi again, can I please try on a few of these rings?” At which point she turns around, walks to the other side of the counter and starts helping people who had just walked up that moment.

Yet again, WHAT THE FUCK????

Now, for those of you who don’t know me well, or only know me via my sass-mouthed blog, you may not know this, but I am polite to a fault. I mean ridiculously polite. I say excuse me when someone rams into me. I’m a please, thank you, you are welcome kind of person. I always say hi. I usually find a way to compliment someone when doing business because it’s nice to see a smile cross their face. So if you are thinking, “Well, maybe you should adjust your attitude, missy!” just know that I never have one in a store. I really am stupid friendly.

As such, I have no clue why people suck so much!!!! When I’ve worked with the public in the past I’ve done my very best to take care of their every need and make them feel respected and appreciated in the process. Is such an attitude unheard of anymore in customer service?

I’m constantly stunned by the lack of giving a shit so many people have about their jobs and the way the treat people while at them.

I don’t know about you, but I’m thankful every day that I have a job. And so I do my damnedest to do it to the very best of my ability, and 90% of the time with a smile on my face. (Trust me, sometimes it is SOOOO hard to keep my sass mouth at bay, but I do because I’m at work and it’s the professional thing to do.)

Might I make a plea to all customer service reps out there (and I’ve been one before, so don’t think I’m being all accusatory and talking out of my ass without understanding how hard of a job it can be): If you don’t like people or can’t fake that you like people–GET ANOTHER FUCKING JOB! There are plenty of jobs where you can sit in a cubicle and not deal with the public. Do that instead.

There is never any reason to be an asshat to someone, especially if they are being nice to you. I understand if someone is treating you like shit that it can be difficult to maintain your cool, but for the rest of us out there that are kind and treat customer service reps with the respect they deserve, can you please at least pretend to do your job?

For those of you who do that grinding job of dealing with the public and still manage to maintain your kindness…THANK YOU! I know it isn’t always easy, but people like me sure appreciate it. :)

That’s my rant o’the day!heat

Whew! That was exhausting!

Oh, and on top of everything my air conditioner died last night and it’s only 95 degrees this week. Ugh. Kill me! :)

I hope you guys have a good week.

Just Say No to dickheaded people. :)  Hugs!  :)