Shopping and Soap and Really Happy Feet

First, sorry for not keeping up better.
Spring break may be over, but there's always something to be either getting ready to take to work or bringing home from work or organizing for work.

Tomorrow, for example, I am taking a car full of pool noodles to work with me. I will cut them in half and on Tuesday afternoon, the kids will be able to build the world's biggest marble run in the cafeteria.

I've been planning it for awhile, I think they'll love it. I'm looking forward to seeing what they come up with. Life is busy. About to get busier, the school year is winding down, meaning it's time to figure out this year's tie dye week, start closing down my site for summer, consolidate all the stuff I've collected for summer already, clean this, do that.

Of course things never really slow down, do they?

It's all good, though.
You already know I love my job.
I've certainly fought hard enough to keep it.

Yesterday morning, Eric and I were out the door a little after 8. We needed to visit our local Sprawlmart, which is a task best accomplished early in the morning. Seems that a lot of the crazies sleep in or at least aren't out and about that early.

We had to be out of there a bit after 9 so I could stop by my soap lady's house. My one luxury is Calendula soap. Lightly scented without the harsh chemicals and paint thinner that makes my old lady skin feel like sandpaper. I don't know how many bars I bought. I called her from the car to let her know I was on the way, she is dog-sitting and right now there are seven in her house. She doesn't like them charging the door, so she met us at the curb. I pulled up, handed her two twenties, and she handed me a paper bag. It occurred to me that it would probably look funny to anyone watching, but I don't actually care that much about how things look.

If you were to see the shoes I wear, for example, you'd know.
Men's shoes with tie dyed girly laces. I'm going to need to dye some more soon, too.

I have mentioned my big chunky orthotics before. $400.00 worth of custom orthotics have helped my feet feel better than they did in years. Pronated ankles and no understanding of anatomy contributed to some pretty serious foot pain, necessitating the manufacture of the things I must wear in my shoes at all times.

Actually didn't notice it for awhile, thanks to knee pain replacing the foot pain. Apparently your body can only feel one horrible pain at a time. Since my knee isn't right and won't be until I get the knee replaced, something I am putting off for as many years as possible, the knee pain pretty much rules every waking hour and many hours when I should be sleeping.

Feet feel pretty good, although it's time to visit the podiatrist again. My shoes are wearing unevenly at a pretty fast pace. I'm walking on the outside of my feet and I have no idea why. In addition, there's something odd in my right foot that locks up and causes an amazing amount of pain at unpredictable times. Makes it a lot of fun to walk long distances (like in airports) without having to stop and wait for it to slack off a bit.
Happened when I came back from Phoenix.
Fun.

But I have to wear only certain types of shoes. Okay *a* certain type. I wear men's 4E mesh shoes, usually New Balance, as they seem to fit best. The footbed in a woman's shoe isn't deep enough to accommodate the orthotics.

So yesterday, we went to Big 5 sporting goods. It was early, about 10 AM, not long after they opened. There was one kid working in the shoe department, and he was trying his best to find a specific boot in a specific size for a customer. Making phone calls to other stores to see if they had it. He was busy. I understand that. I was waiting patiently. Then an elderly lady and her about-my-age daughter came to the shoe department, followed by a family with three kids. A store manager came to the back of the store to help 'whoever was next' and the "gentleman" with the family tried to say he was next.

I didn't allow that to happen, saying, "No, I was here first. And those ladies," gesturing to my left, "were here just after me."

The guy who'd tried to say he was first let his children smack the price checker electronic thingy, climb on the tables and racks of shoes and run around the back of the store like little beasts while they waited. They actually left after about 10 minutes, bringing peace to our little corner.

The manager apologized to me for the wait. I assured him that the wait wasn't an issue, I could see that the kid was trying to help the other customer, but that I didn't like someone trying to jump ahead of me.

After trying on three different pairs of shoes, painstakingly putting the orthotics in and trying each of them out, I was about to give up. Asked him if he had anything else in 4E, preferably mesh.

He presented me with a pair of shoes that actually fit, although at $59.99, it was more than I had intended to spend. I asked if he had another pair of them, though, because it *is* so hard to find the right fit. He did. And I've never had anyone do for me what he did next. He said that they'd been on sale last week. And that if I wanted three pairs, he would give them to me for the $39.99 sale price from last week. And would give me a 10% off coupon as well. I ended up with three pairs of shoes that fit for $107.00 and change.

So my feet are happy.

I have a post fermenting... it's about foster care kids and compassion. I'll try to manage it this week while events are still fresh in my mind.

And that's it. Off to finish the laundry. Or fight it to a draw for now.

Posting may be sporadic this week, Tami. Don't be alarmed. Lots going on. A lot of busy-ness.

Okay. Washing.

People of Walmart

I had to go there on Tuesday. ::sigh::

Needed some underwear for the man, and buying it at Fred Meyer is twice the price for half the amount. My family's bottom line (haha... BOTTOM line... oh my goodness, I just slay me!!) is important enough that sometimes I have to do things I hate to help us out... like heading for Walmart.

Like it or not, sometimes I just have to get stuff there.

This time? I liked it not.

As I approached the building, there was a very tall and very black man standing right in the middle of the entrance. (Suldog pointed out in the comments that just saying he was "very black" seemed... wrong. So here's the rest of the 'black' thing...)

First of all, you know how people of African descent are every color from coffee with cream to black black? This guy was the blackest man I've ever seen.

He was wearing a black cowboy hat with a hatband made from either black pearls or black plastic beads... my cursory glance said pearls, though.

Black kerchief/bandana around his neck, black silky shirt, black leather thigh-length coat, black pants, black cowboy boots with I swear four inch heels.

And a black cane.

He was singing religious songs and preaching to everyone who walked by. He was difficult to understand except for the frequent shouting of "Jesus!" and "Are you SAVED?!?!"

Shit.
I hate stuff like that.
I understand that he's either a religious fanatic or mentally disturbed (in my book any sort of fanatic is disturbed, really...) and probably not to blame for his erratic behavior.

But I don't need it. It's just... extra shit. I don't need the aggravation, the unease of not knowing exactly what kind of crazy I'm dealing with, and I SURE as hell am not interested in anyone's brand of religion or their personal beliefs, as I have my own set.

I just wanted to go in, get some damn underwear and get home. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and pretended to be talking to someone and ignored him as I walked by. He looked toward the sky and commented loudly to his God, "Oh my LORD, anuddah one on da phone!"

He smelled very strongly of sweat and there was also a medicinal smell about him. I'm guessing alcohol, but I didn't ask.

As I walked in to the store, there were a couple managers heading for the door, saying, "Yes, he can be in the parking lot but he can't be bothering people as they walk in."

I assumed correctly that they were going to ask him to move, as I could hear him loudly arguing with them, saying that God told him to stand RIGHT THERE and that he was just 'respectin' God.'

I put it out of my mind until I heard him shouting IN THE STORE. He was walking up to people and trying to share 'good news!'

The same managers walked up to him a couple aisles away and told him that he could shop there but that he must leave people alone, and that if he could not, he needed to leave the building.

I guess he opted to leave, because as I walked out to my car after accomplishing the great underwear mission of 2012, he ran at me from three or four cars away and started talking at me.

I ignored him and kept walking.

He followed me to my car, still talking. Reached out and grabbed my arm to detain me as I started to climb into the car.

And I jerked my arm away and told him to fuck off. And slammed my car door in his face. He stood there, still talking as I drove away.

I briefly entertained the idea of going past there on my way home this evening to see if he was still there, but thought better of it. Decided I didn't want to know.

Usually when I see someone who, um, needs a little help, I manage to avoid getting anywhere near them. I don't know why I got harassed today.

Good news, though? I bought 14 pairs of underwear for Eric. So it will be awhile before I must return to Sprawlmart.

Another reason....

From New York, via local 'news' station KPTV, this article: Another reason to avoid theaters...

From the article this lovely quote: Bedbugs were found in two seats at the Empire 25 during an Aug. 3 inspection, and a guest reported being bitten this past weekend. Pest control experts were called, the seats were removed and new ones were installed.
Bedbugs also have been found in several New York stores. City officials have instituted plans to fight the infestations.
So my personal reasons for trying to avoid the theater at all costs have just increased. Oh yeah? I'll see your jerks and raise you three bedbugs!

I'm not a big fan of crowded theaters because I'm just really, really tired of dealing with assholes in my day to day existence. It just seems like no one has manners anymore, and it's nothing but frustrating for me.
But can you imagine going to the movies and coming home with BEDBUGS??? Holy crap!

Posting later in the day...

It's a busy one today, and I did not have time to finish writing the post I was working on.

Later today or maybe in the evening, I'll have it up.

Until then, go here.

That's Bob. With one 'O'.

Well hasn't this just been a fun week? (Fun weak?) At this point it's hard to decide which one I'd like to use.

When the rough map of the neighborhood 'improvements' arrived in our mailbox a month ago, my hubby looked at it, said, "The grade is wrong and this isn't going to work."

He called the guy listed as the contact, Bob C, City Engineer. He told him. Bob didn't listen. Work proceeded as planned. The grade was wrong. Our house would be sitting in the bottom of a bathtub after the first big rain.

Eric took the afternoon off from work to tell Mr. Bob, City Engineer how to fix the problem. Saved his ASS, actually. Because Bob just didn't see it until it was measured and surveyed right in front of him. Neither did the other three guys who signed off on the project, all people with college degrees, high-paying positions with the city, and not an ounce of sense between them. My non-degreed hubby with only 26 years of experience in grades and landscaping had to take them by their hands and SHOW them.

::ptui::

Bob ended up agreeing that we'll have to landscape the front yard and put in special drainage areas. Bob agreed that because the dumb shit who was running the jackhammer chipped the edges of our concrete driveway, we are getting a new one. Bob said they're going to replace our hedges.

Those dirty assholes ripped out those hedges. Now that the sidewalk is in, and the asphalt all smooshed into place against it (a guy who looked like a dirty, derelict Santa Claus and smelled like Donner drove the steam roller), I see that there was plenty of room for me to have kept the beautiful green shrubs that gave us so much privacy in our backyard.

We've been parking ON OUR LAWN at the North side of our house, under the bedroom windows. Nowhere else to leave our vehicles, ya know? I tried to leave on Monday. Some dumbass chose to park in the ONLY PLACE IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD that would block my vehicle in. There were parking spaces all over hell, but this dipshit chose to park behind me.

::rolling eyes:::

I looked half a block down (just past the front of the home of the famous Cletus) where a scrawny crack-whore of a man with greasy long hair and a stained shirt stood with his back to me. He was leaning on a shovel and watching Santa operate the steam roller. It was evidently pretty loud over there, because he didn't hear me the first three times I yelled, "Hey!" to get his attention. Finally, I yelled so loud I think I peed a little. He turned. With big gestures, I said clearly and loudly, "Could you move the truck?!"

With noticeable shitty attitude, he wandered slowly over.
"You blah blah blah blah." he said.
"What?" I asked.
"You don't have to be so rude." he whined. He looked all put-upon. This dumb fuck parked behind me, blocking me in and had the nerve to be aggravated at ME for asking him to move!!
"And you," I replied angrily, "don't have to be a dick! You didn't hear me the first three times I yelled."
He got into the vehicle and moved it, parking across the street where there was ample parking. I could lip read several profanities on his butt-ugly face as I drove away. Asshole.

He was here the next day. He hadn't washed his hair or changed his shirt, but he was wearing a bandanna on his head. What a hunk. Of shit. That was the last day I saw him. After the grunt work of pushing the shovel was over, they must have sent him to another job site, thereby improving the smell of my neighborhood.

Can't prove anything, but during one of their customary three hour lunch breaks, I saw him eating a burrito from Taco Bell and then found half a leftover burrito and wrapper tossed into my yard and onto the top of a table. Eric chucked it back over the fence that evening into the center of the graded and graveled sidewalk. For all I know, it's buried under the concrete now. I didn't see anyone pick it up, at any rate.

Well, Friday I was once again going to work. I went out to get in my truck and once again, someone was parked directly behind me. I looked up the street past Cletusville, and there was Bob!
I started walking that way, and the project manager gestured toward me with his head and said something to Bob.

Bob headed this way. When we got close, he asked what he could do for me.

"Well, " I said, "You might ask Albert Einstein to move his vehicle. It's blocking me in." He laughed at the Einstein comment, and some guy came to move the vehicle. He wasn't rude like the scrawny crack whore guy, he apologized.

So now we get to wait and see if Bob, City Engineer makes good. He'd better.

Protected by Kroger

We do quite a bit of shopping in a Kroger subsidiary, Fred Meyer.
Kroger made quite a big deal when they introduced their 'family friendly' checkout last year.

What is family friendly checkout, you ask? Well, that aisle is the one without magazines. No Cosmo with its cleavage and the promise of great orgasms.
No People Magazine with the sexiest Man/Woman/Dog/Chicken alive.
No Enquirer, no Globe no US... no magazines.
They're being proactive and taking care of my children. Ooooo-kay then!
I did some research when I got back from shopping this evening, and there is an organization out there (no, I won't lend legitimacy to them by linking) that spends huge amounts of time in letter writing and phone calling campaigns to get corporations like Kroger to remove the "pornography" from their checkout stands. They're very proud of their efforts with Kroger.

I just love smarmy, feel-good tactics that cost corporations nothing. I also love the people who lobby for such things. The don't even know how stupid they are! They're totally clueless about utterly empty corporate kiss-ass gestures. Did no one teach them cynicism while they were growing up?

The magazines aren't all that scary, really. Since a quarter of the women in the store are either showing more cleavage or more ass than the models on the magazine covers, I hardly think seeing it in paper form is going to traumatize anyone.

I'm more nervous when I see a methhead tweaking his way through the parking lot. (And no, we don't live in a crappy area of town.)

Everywhere I shop I can find something that offends me personally.

For example, I don't like shopping around people with poor personal hygiene. Some of them smell so bad I'm amazed they're not running to escape the odor. What the hell is wrong with them? I know soap and running water are readily available to most people. And when your hair is oily, and has obviously been that way for days, and you smell of stale sweat, how can you NOT know it? Believe me, the rest of us can tell.

I am offended by "parents" who ignore the shitty behavior of their offspring, too. When your child is climbing on store displays and tormenting their older or younger brothers and sisters, it's YOUR job as a parent to put a stop to it. Don't wait until one, two, or all six of them are in various stages of meltdown, please. I didn't have perfect children, but I did not allow them to be shitty to each other at home or in public.

When you are blocking the whole damn aisle and someone approaches in plain sight with a full shopping cart, get the fuck out of the way!! Jesus! What the hell is the matter with you? And don't you look at me and act like it's a nuisance to move your cart, either.
Asshole.
The nuisance is YOU.

Back to the family friendly thing. What child is going to look at magazines with 300 kinds of candy at eye-level? !?

Kroger, if you want to make a family-friendly checkout stand, get rid of the candy, hand out warm towels and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, and give me a damn discount!

Have you noticed this?

I occasionally go visit Go Fug Yourself and The Superficial - Because You're Ugly
Both of them, while mostly rude, often crude, and a total waste of time/bandwidth crack me up. I'll tell ya, looking at this stuff makes me grateful for my own normal life.
Is it just me, though, or are most of the GBS (Great Big Stars) forgetting something? That all-important shampoo/shower before hitting the red carpet/laundromat/carwash/convenience store? I swear they all have dirty hair. I think it's disgusting.








Is it Clairol? Only her hairdresser knows for sure.

Today, on the StupidBowl, there was a commercial featuring Sheryl Crow and was it Clairol? hair coloring. (see above photo) The color of her hair was fine. I'm sure it would have been a lighter color if her hair had been CLEAN.

I've noticed it while out and about, too. I don't hang out with many (any) famous Hollywood types. Many of the regular people in the grocery store seem to have, at best, a nodding acquaintance with their shampoo.

Gross.

Goodwill Hunting

I go in there twice a week to see what's new.
Yesterday I bought a package of alphabet stamps (still factory wrapped) for 99 cents. Bought a couple shirts with department store tags still on them, a CD, a puzzle and a computer keyboard.

Walked out after writing a check for $13.47.

While I was in there, I saw lots of unattended children in the toy section. Two little boys had opened up puzzles and were trying to put them together on the floor (in the middle of the aisle) while another one was pulling stuffed animals off the shelves and launching them with a kick toward the other end of the aisle, chanting, "I can fly! I can fly!"

Three incredibly grubby kids dug in the bargain toy bin, occasionally holding something up and saying, "Hey, look what I found!" The oldest one kept licking his upper lip where his nose had been running.

Some ignorant and unwashed woman was pushing a shopping cart. (Could smell her an aisle away... ugh!!)

In the seat of the cart was a really ugly baby girl.

Walking, or rather being dragged next to the cart was a grubby little boy of about 2.
He had a pacifier in his mouth.

I was grateful for that, as he was throwing a screaming fit around it. It muffled the noise.

She dragged him by one arm as she shopped for shoes, paying no more attention to his gorilla-like hopping and screeching than a gorilla mom would.

If it had been my kid, I would not have dragged him along with me, I would have left him sitting on the floor and kept walking. Kids don't like that. They eventually follow. I like Goodwill. I hate the Great Unwashed.