Friday, December 31, 2010

"Remember those less fortunate"

Alrighty then. The holidays are just about overwith, the Christmas madness has drawn to a close as loyal Volde-Mart customers strip our shelves of the last few lonely clearance items, now reduced to 25% of their original price to make way for Valentine's Day goods. Blech. But along with it, my nasty mood has abated and I'm feeling myself again. Was I very angry with Pips? You bet I was. Have I let it go, moved on, and re-accepted him as my dumb redneck friend without him being any the wiser there was a problem in the first place? . . . Yes I have. Stupid holiday spirit, ha. I was waiting to clock in on . . . the 23rd? I think, yes. And I while I was trying to play it cool with him standing there, also waiting on the clock, we ended up mutually bonding as two people only can when something horrible and awkward happens. There is a guy who works at Volde-Mart pushing carts. I understand this is a rough job, but . . . none of the other cart pushers smell like this. If life was a cartoon, this one would be like Pigpen from the Peanuts series. And it lingers. I'm sitting on the bench when he walks by and I tell myself "Act normal. Don't do anything. You're just over sensitive. Just like the three people you've already heard in the past complaining about this guy's funk. Don't react. Just don't. It's not that bed . . . OH DEAR GOD . .. ugh, no really, it's not bad . . . " and then I look up where Pip is standing, leaning against the lockers across from me and he looks like he's somewhere between letting tears stream out of his eyes and throwing up right there in the hallway. Our eyes met and then we were faced with the inevitable task of non-verbally communicating the 'dear sweet powers in heaven that is disgusting' reaction we both had and trying equally as hard not to be conspicuous about it. I'm sure our fellow coworkers knew exactly why we both chose that precise moment to scoot off and use the other time clock, however hard we might have tried to be casual about it. I can't stay mad at people, no matter how hard I try. Or animals, for that matter, although I'm still fairly certain I wouldn't mind selling Sawyer sometime this year.

My Dad's been home all week and it's been a little rough on all of us. He gets harder and harder to deal with as he ages. He doesn't remember things very well, he needs to be yelled at because he's too proud (and cheap) to go get a hearing aid. My temper with him this week has gotten a little short on more than one occasion and I've been unkind. Then yesterday he brings something into the house. He's spent the entire day making my late Christmas gift, a DVD tower handmade from solid cedar. From a tree he helped saw himself, and took to the sawmill, and sanded down in his workshop. And I kind of felt like shit. I really should lighten up and pull the stick out of my bum sometimes, shouldn't I? Coming home tonight, I pulled up to discover my dog Strider had once again climbed out of his pen and was running loose in the yard, just like he did last NYE. I opened the door and let him in, and instead of predictably yelling "GAH STRIDER! Get him out of here!", Dad just kind of looked at him and a while later fed him treats with the other two dogs. Strider is currently stretched out beneath the footrest on Dad's recliner. What a brown-noser, lol! I still feel a little like shit, but I'm gonna bake a new batch of cookies for Dad before he goes back to work on Sunday. Cookies make everything better. And besides, now is the time to get to the point of my post title tonight. If I thought my Dad was driving me crazy, it's nothing to what my friend Pip's been through. His Dad drives him crazy, he starts. I told him I knew how he felt and he replied, quite miserably -

"I bet yours doesn't bring crack-whores home!"

Um . . . awkward. No, can't say that he does, thankfully. Apparently Daddy Pip, who is in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's/dementia has taken a fancy to a less than savory neighbor of theirs and Pip is at his wit's end trying to keep her out of the house, albeit a bit unsuccessful as he said the two of them were in his living room having a full blown drunken argument 1:30 this morning. Pip actually went to the doctor's this week begging for Xanax and bemoaning that he's extremely angry at home, always trying to fight the urge to yell and swear at people.

"And you're not angry at work? Good God, I'd think you'd need Xanax for Volde-Mart, not home!"

And then he suggested Pip just kick out the people making him miserable, but it's not exactly easy to boot family out on their ass. He wouldn't give Pippy the Xanax and suggested instead that he visit his very own Volde-Mart pharmacy and buy some St. John's Wort and one of those weird bracelets. I told Pippy I'd had a lot of requests for the bracelets but that I thought we didn't have any in right now and he half-jokingly spazzed on me. So no, I certainly don't have it that bad. My Dad doesn't bring home crack whores and I never considered actually seeking medical help because of how he annoyed me. I tentatively brought up the subject of putting his Dad into a home and he said he really has tried, but the guy's memory and such isn't so bad yet that he can't function, he just does incredibly stupid things. It's horrible, every time I think my family life is screwy, all I have to do is sit down and talk to this guy and realize that someone has it far, far worse. Apparently after he threw out his Dad and the crack-whore neighbor for the night, his niece knocked on his bedroom window at 3:30 in the morning because she forgot her key and brought the emergency one inside last time. She and her friend then spent several hours doing their hair in the bathroom and further enraged him by filling the bathroom sink with cigarette ashes that were still waiting for him in the morning.

I'm not sure exactly why he chooses to share these things with me. Not that I mind, I just find it odd. And while I know now that nothing is every likely to happen between us, and he's gone from being "That guy I'm trying to win over and desperately want to be with" to just my sweet, dumb friend who also happens to be frustratingly attractive to me. I don't have beachhouse or white picket daydreams about him anymore, but . . . what does it say about me that I can talk to him and have a normal conversation, but still think in my mind how much I'd like to make out with him. What does it say about me that I admit fully to myself and to you that, given the chance, I'd tap the hell out of the man. What the fuck? Ah well . . .

In Volde-Mart news, remember Nature Boy? Nature Boy is no longer with us, according to my troubled little friend in Produce. NB called in the day after Chrismtas. From jail. He tried coming in to speak with our new store manager a few days ago, but due to the points on his record with Volde-Mart from calling in, not showing up, and constantly leaving early, they couldn't justify keeping him on top of calling in from jail, too. Fare thee well, Nature Boy. You were weird. Please make smarter decisions next time and stop being so dramatic, you'll be happy for it.

Meh, new year in a few hours. Not really a biggie with me. I'm only tentative because . . . well, all in all, 2010 was pretty great for me and I'm scared that 2011 will become the flip side and be horrible. Maybe not. One can only hope . . .

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

So this is Christmas, and what have we done?

I can't really decide if I'm looking forward to Christmas or just looking forward to it being over. Maybe a little of both, does that make sense? I've been melancholy lately. I don't miss Kenny (Pip), I really don't. But I do miss liking someone. It was fun looking forward to going to work each day because I knew I'd see him and get those fluttery feelings. Maybe some worthy person will come along, because I sure as hell know it ain't gonna be him. He made me so angry last week, and I'm not even sure why it pisses me off so much since he didn't do anything personally to me at all. He was off Friday and off Sunday, and decided he'd call in Saturday so he could have a three day weekend. I told him he'd get a point on his ass if he did that (Voldmart has a point system. Get too many points and you could get coached/fired). He said it'd be worth the point for a bonfire and drinks with friends. He wasn't there Saturday and I came home to find my FB feed filled with half a dozen posts from him about how he's getting shit faced drunk even though the wood is wet and he can't have a fire and then later on how much he wanted a BC powder because his stupid head hurt REALLY bad. And of course he thinks what he did is fucking hilarious. Almost his entire department was pissed off because he left them a person short on one of the busiest weekends of the year, and the majority of the work was left on the back of an older gentleman who has had three strokes and can't really get around all that great. He's always complaining that he has no money and has kids/bills to pay for, and yet he pulls this shit and it infuriates me. I just feel like telling him to grow the fuck up. Fine, you have a shitty Volde-Mart job. Go ahead and treat it like it's not important and see how funny all of this is when they show you the door, because there are probably 40 people who would be chomping the bit to have your job and do it properly, you useless, self-centered drunk piece of redneck shit. I dunno what your problem is but you must have a big one if you like Jack Daniels and Bud Light better than the company of real people and a decent, respectable life.

Also, he said that Louis is a brown nose because Louis started on overnight remodel in April, went up front to cashier with me for a while, then got service desk, then was moved to sporting goods, and now has a position as an Asset Protection guy. I guess impressing management and showing some initiative makes you a loser. I like Louis :(

He also makes fun of the new store manager. Not because he's a manager, but because he's Hispanic and 'his voice is funny and I can't understand a word he says and I laugh every time he talks!'

I guess I should be glad that he was never interested and finally showed his true, ignorant, asshole colors before I got involved with him, but he still infuriates me, as do most people with no initiative whatsoever. Does the fact that I kind of hope he gets fired so I don't have to see him or deal with his bullshittery anymore make me a huge bitch?

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Life's Little Triumphs

+ Funny Pharm stories, for a change.

The Sweetest felon I've ever known

I've been hung up on guys before. Badly. I made pretty good on last weekend's decision to keep a casual distance between Pip and myself; if I noticed him working when I walked in and he didn't notice me, I didn't go out of my way to draw his attention to myself. He mentioned Wednesday that he hadn't seen me in a while, but didn't make anything of it. I still talk to him, since I don't want to come across as rude or make him suddenly think he's done something offensive, etc, and I was admittedly quite terrified that all the gooey feelings would come back if I got near him again, like they did with all the other guys. It was just the usual, asking if the Pharm was busy, moaning that he was 'so ready to go home' just like he always is, right from the minute he walks through the front doors. Later I was on lunch and he popped out and came over to sit beside me. I felt . . . nothing. I mean I don't loathe or hate him, nothing like that, but the gooey feelings did not return, and I couldn't be more thrilled. He's just yet another addition to my circle of endearingly rough around the edges friends; can we ever have enough of those? While I still have to admit that he's damn cute and has some of the prettiest blue eyes I've ever seen, I can at least see the rest of him for what he really is. For his sake, I do hope he wakes up and changes someday; I think he's genuinely a sweet person with a good heart if only he didn't make such dumb life choices. But I can't help him, I can't change him, and I'm not going to spend all my energy and time trying, and he's definitely not relationship material. And I inwardly cringe more and more every time he quotes the Simpsons and then laughs hysterically at himself. Yikes.

Have we missed this?

Oh my god . . . so, the pharmacy. It is what it is. Let's start with needles. Yes, needles, we sell them. Lots of them. Coming to the counter and asking me for needles is like going to the Pharmacist and telling him you need a pill. We have three different types of needles and each type comes in varying lengths and gauges. How can you stick something in yourself on a daily basis and NOT know what it is? And for those of you who send friends or relatives to buy your needles without telling them the correct size and gauging, we hate you. Your friend probably hates you a little too, because the whole situation has made them feel foolish.

No, you may not take the needles to the front to pay for them, that has to be done back here.

No, I cannot open a needle so you can look at it to see if it 'looks right/looks like the one I use'.

Idiot Customer: "I need a box of insulin needles."

Me: "What size and gauge?"

IC: "Uh . . . they're for my Mom, I give her a hundred units and then 30 at night, so I need the 100 unit ones."

Me: "What gauge?"

IC: "100 units. I give her blaah blah blah"

They'll proceed to give me a long-winded speech about how many different insulins they give their relative, what kinds, how many units, and the time of day they administer. Shut the fuck up, I seriously don't give a shit because none of this helps me one iota. Gauging. It's how big the needle is. No, not how long, you miserable dolt, how BIG. Girth. Do you want the biggest needle we have, the smallest, or the one in between?

IC: "I told you, 100 units."

Fuck you, die and go to hell and burn in fire and damnation. I'll just get you a box of 100 unit syringes in the smallest gauge I have, for the sake of your loved one, and don't you dare try to bring them back, because they're non-refundable by FEDERAL LAW.


Okay . . . whoever sent this senile old man in the scooter on the pharmacy errand, I really, REALLY hate you. He came to my counter, gave me the name and date of birth for the scripts he was picking up, and before I could get a single syllable out, he told me he needed a box of ReliOn. I asked him if he wanted the N, R, or 25/75. He says he doesn't understand. Oh, for fuck's sake! How can he not know this? It turns out he wanted needles, not insulin. RAR! When people tell me they want ReliOn, they're usually asking for freaking insulin. From the fridge. And of course once I figured out he wanted needles, we repeated the above situation because he had no idea that they came in so many different types and sizes. My fellow cashier had arrived by this point and she ended up going off with him on a hunt for the elusive Phillip's Stool Softener and they were gone for a good solid 10 minutes. At least before he left with her, he told her "I really don't know what I'm doing." Which again begs the question, who the hell did thought he'd be a good person to send on the quest for needles and poo pills? Oh yeah, and he had a piece of paper with drug names and RX numbers that were needing refilled, but he didn't know that, he only knew he was supposed to 'get them' and so he tried reading them off to me at breakneck speed and expecting me to know what to do with all the mumble jumble. Screw the person who did this to both him and me.

"These tough economic times"

That phrase is getting more and more overused every day and I'm kind of starting to hate it. At Volde-Mart, a lot of our scripts are $4 for one month and $10 for three months supply, which IMO is a spanking good deal, considering the price of drugs. If I say your total is $4, you have no idea how much rage I have to contain when your eyes bug out and you whine "But didn't my insurance take anything off?!" Seriously? REALLY? I know money is tight for some people, but it's four freaking dollars, stop being a skinflint and pay up and get out of the way so I can take the massive line building up behind you. I might feel a little bad for you if I hadn't seen you already trolling the store an hour ago, your cart filled with useless holiday crap, movies, and junkfood. And again with the insurance and medicaid cards, give the damn things to the techs when you DROP OFF. Drop off. It's not hard. Don't give them to the cashiers, we hate it. We have to take them back and give them to the techs anyways and you make this whole process longer and hold everyone up, AGAIN. Also, don't argue with the tech or Pharmacist and then come to a cashier expecting us to wave a magic wand and fix things, aka, tell you what you want to hear since our superior didn't. We're at the bottom of the totem pole here, how hard is that for your tiny pea-brains to comprehend? Especially if the Pharmacist tells you something. They're the big bosses, they know everything there is to know back here and then some. If they told you it can't be done, it can't. Be. Done.

Also, sob stories don't work with us. So you or someone you know needs this medicine right now. They're hurting/sick/throwing up in your car. Well, I am sorry, but that's too bad. Everyone here needs medicine. And if you are gonna try the "My son is at home crying, he's so sick and he needs his Mama right now, and he really needs this medicine" card, I should let you know that I'll only feel bad if it's a small child. When I looked to see your son was nearly 13 fucking years old, I had to turn around so I could roll my eyes. If he really is at home crying, which I doubt, tell him to man up and grow some freaking balls. Now sit your Helicopter-Mommy ass down and wait your turn, I'll let you know when it's done.

Please don't bleed on my counter.

Please join the rest of us in the 21st century and stop writing checks at the store. Especially when you take so long writing said check that I feel like it'll be the 22nd century before I finally get rid of you.

And some general retail peeves/things not to do in the store:

Please do not randomly grab employees. The young man in grocery seemed to take it well enough, but it's good for his customer that he wasn't the jumpy type who reacts to being touched by hitting people or screaming at the top of his lungs.

Please do not ram yourself into employees stocking the shelves/bins to get at the product they are stocking. Pip was nearly floored several times last week all in the name of customers getting the almighty sweet potato/celery/cranberries. Also, if you observe an employee rushing in front of your path to pick up a bag or something slippery off the floor, don't walk in front of him/her so you can step on the object in an attempt to trip, fall, and sue the store.

You don't get a please this time. Never, under any circumstances is it EVER acceptable for your child to stand up in a shopping cart, drop trou, and pee all over the floor. Why on earth would he/she think this is ok in the first place? Your house must be a literal pig sty. My friends in the toy department are tired of cleaning up pee.

Do not pull off the 'Out of order' sign taped to the stall door in the bathroom and then proceed to fill up the already broken toilet with loads and loads of paper towels. Not toilet paper, but paper towels. Again, who does this?

Thus ends another week of tales from the Mart of Wal. Look forward to more as the holiday season grows ever more failtastic!


Monday, November 29, 2010

Getting back to me

I did a lot of thinking and reflecting (and internet sleuthing) over the weekend. Also had a few good talks with Mom. The more I thought about how Pip's acted recently, the more angry and upset I got with him, though whether he knows it or not is anyone's guess; probably not. He shouldn't have constantly followed me around during and after remodel, he shouldn't have held my hand and screamed "WE'RE IN LOOOOOVE" at the top of his lungs on that morning in May. He should have said 'no' when I kept asking him to grab lunch with me, just the two of us. While it does seem from his recent behavior that he might have finally realized "Ooops, this is starting to be too much", what kind of a dunderhead acts this way without realizing he's making someone think he's interested? But I never claimed he was the smartest man in the world, in fact I remember telling myself and my family "He's pretty dumb. He's really, really dumb! Why do I want him again?" The rap sheet I found on him shows just how incapable he is of learning. He worked his way up from 'failing to yield' and 'minor in possession of alcohol' at age 18 to 'driving with open container' and 'attempt to sell drugs' most recently. I'd thought what he did earlier this year might have been because he was unhappy about recently losing his Mom, but I guess it's just the way he is. I'm officially filing him into the 'just friends' category before I make anymore of a fool of myself; people have definitely started to notice I was always with him, enough is enough.

Last night I realized just how far from myself I've gotten lately. I was listening to the soundtrack for How To Train Your Dragon (I seriously enjoy that movie way more than anyone my age has a right to) and looking at tattoo designs and jewelry featuring dragons. "Hey, that's right, I really like dragons!" I said to myself. I like most things fantasy. I've gotten away from that for a while. I had the weekend off and went back to work today and pretty much had a blast. Not that anything spectacular happened, but I had fun. Fun with the customers, fun with my manager and coworkers in the Funny Pharm, fun with my buddy Hurley at lunch. Pip was off today, but it was awesome not feeling a little bummed about that fact, or worrying about going to find him, or seeing if I could manage to fanangle my breaks so that they coincided with his.

. . . SMEAGOL'S FREE! *giggle*

After I clocked out I swung by sporting goods, talked with my good friend Jim in toys and caught up with Louie, who worked on overnight remodel, got moved up front with me, moved to service desk, then to sporting goods, and who is starting Asset Protection on Saturday. Nice guy, not bad looking. not that it means anything, but I'm just gonna be friendly with everybody from now on, regardless of where it may or may not lead.

I'm a free bitch, baby, and it's the greatest feeling in the world.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

He's just not that into you

For the past few months, those six words have been dirty ones to me. When I was bored, I'd google 'signs he's interested', 'how to know if you are more than friends', and the like, just for fun, and maybe to see if I was or wasn't reading into things too much. And inevitably, even the internet would give me advice I didn't ask for. In every queue of search results that contained articles and silly quizzes, there was always one that would be about 'signs he is not into you' and similar phrases. The cat that resides in me, as it does in many of us, would arch its back and hiss. Not that I wouldn't look at those results every now and then, either. But the past week has been so confusing, but I seem to be seeing things more plainly all the time. Let's evaluate, shall we?

A few weeks ago, this guy was bemoaning the fact that he had no holiday plans, so I invited him to my place. On Monday, he spent at least half an hour pissing and moaning and venting to me how horrible his sister and family are and how miserable he is when they're around getting drunk at his house. He chooses to spend the day with said aggravating family anyways. On Tuesday night he gave me a hug and told me to have a nice Thanksgiving and that he'd see me on Friday. Then popped online that night asking me if I knew how to make icing, because his brother was making a cake and neither of them knew how to make frosting. And we just talked for an hour or so about this and that, he asked me what I thought of his latest picture, I said he's a nice looking guy, blah blah blah, it'd be nice to live on the beach and wasn't it a beautiful night outside? It would have been the best conversation ever . . . if I'd been looking him in the face or at least hearing his voice. Then he said something about being old and I told him he's not and he abruptly had to leave. It's the one thing we come close to getting pissed with each other about, he says he's old, fat, and ugly, and I tell him he's not old, not fat, and he's a nice looking guy. He only gets mad when I disagree that he's 'old'. Whatever. Anyways, I'll leave the rabbit trail now. The point is, I asked him to come to my house and he spent the day with people who he claims make him miserable instead. He said he'd call or text me but he didn't.

Yesterday I asked him if he was working today and he said no, his daughter was coming over. he gave her money to get her driver's license on Thursday but only if she comes over to hang out with him today. It was something like "Dad, are you paying me to hang out with you?!" Yeah, he said he pretty much was, since it's the only way she would spend time with him. Okay, I get it, teenagers are a pain in the ass and he'll blackmail and bribe her if he has to. I can understand that, there's nothing wrong with spending time with your kids. He then went on to exaggerate just how busy (or, as I interpreted it, unavailable) he'd be by saying he had to clean the house today too, because everyone made a mess in it over the holiday.Um, ouch. Spending time with your kids is one thing, blowing me off to clean the house is a whole different story, and you really didn't need to say that. I get it, you're busy. The last few times I've suggested stuff, he always has something else to do. If you're really interested in a person, I think you'd rather go be with them then clean the house or lay around in bed (alone) all day. I've kept telling myself, "I'll get him to come with me the next time, and the next time", always the next time, and yet the elusive 'next time' never seems to happen. D in the Pharmacy invited me to the local hangout for drinks and karaoke tomorrow night and told me to see if I could bring 'Mr. Drunk Messenger' with me. Apparently she's also been entertained by his drunken Facebook shenanigans, which I'll admit are pretty amusing. I thought about sending him a message and telling him about it, but then again, there's not much point bothering, is there? I don't know if it has anything to do with his charges or anything, but he seems completely bleeping WHIPPED by his family. Family is a good thing, but not to the point you'll be miserable just so they'll be happy. His kids might be half grown, but he's attached at the hips with his entire family, even the people he claims to hate, who threaten to throw him out on the street and put him in jail. There are also the numerous nieces and nephews who are hardly adults themselves and already giving him the title 'Great Uncle Pip'. These guys are like his kids and grandkids, and he'll always have them. His family breeds like bunnies. I can only overlook so much. I've always said I don't want to be 'that woman'. The one who breaks up a family by taking a guy away from all his numerous relations so she can have him all to herself, and he ends up snubbing his entire clan. I have a sister in law who did this. I don't want to be her, and yet I won't pretend I haven't harbored a desire to possibly, in the future, move far away with Pip if we got serious so that the closest he'd be to these lunatics is a phone or computer screen. All mine.

I'm going to stop going out of my way to talk with him, at least for a while. If we happen to bump into each other, fine. If not, I'm not going to go traipsing into the produce area when everyone knows I work pharmacy on the exact opposite end of the building. I'm not going to be rude to him, but cool. For a while I was willing to forego other prospects while I chased after him, but I'm tired of chasing him. You can only do that with someone before long before you finally realize that you're just not gonna board that train. I still think Pip's an absolute sweetheart and I'm sure I'll always have some kind of (platonic) love for him, but . . . I'm just tired.

And maybe he's just not that into me.

Monday, November 22, 2010

Oh simple thing, where have you gone?

Stevie Wonder once sang the line -

Lookin' back on when I was a little nappy-headed boy
and my only worry was for Christmas what would be my toy?

Sometimes I wish for those days again, while being a grown-up definitely has its perks, a lot of suck can come with it too. I had to make a somewhat illegal right turn today on my way into work (I wasn't in the turn lane, but there was no traffic coming) because three rounds of lights had come and gone and I still hadn't gotten a green one. At least I can say it was the worst thing that happened to me all day, which isn't bad. I wish I could say the same about my poor friend Pippy.

Went out on my first break and found him sitting in a secluded spot by where the carts are kept, he saw me, wrapped up his phone call, and I asked him what he was doing out there all alone. He said it was because the tables were all full and there was just too much cigarette smoke for his liking. I sat down beside him and without much ado, he went into a distressed rant about his sister. A little background: Pippy lives in a house with his older (half, same mother) brother, his Dad, and his niece. For some reason his sister decided that she needs to pile everyone into Pip's house for Thanksgiving so they can all have a 'nice family dinner', so Pip reluctantly said yes. Fast forward a day or two and he finds out that she's said some horrible things to one of his friends about his brother J. J is disabled and had knee surgery last summer, leaving him somewhat crippled; I know that he at least can't walk very fast for very long, especially not without a shopping cart or cane to lean on. So he lives with Pip, drives Pip's vehicle (takes him back and forth to Volde-Mart every day too), and eats Pip's food. They have a cute relationship and it's amazing how they can look so much alike and so different at the same time, I love watching them together. Anyways, sister says that if she had her way, J wouldn't be living with Pip and getting free room and board, in fact if she had her way, he'd literally be out on the street with nothing to eat. What in the hell crazy bitch? He's your brother too! So Pips told her that he doesn't want her at his house for the holiday after hearing all the horrible things she said about J, and she pretty much shot back at him saying that it's Dad's house anyways, and not his, and he can't stop her from coming over if she wants, and she WILL come Thursday. Oh, and as soon as their father is dead, she and he boyfriend are going to get EVERYTHING and they'll make sure that Pip and J get throw out of the house. He was arguing with her via text message while I was sitting there and she pretty much called him a piece of shit and told him if he tried anything Thursday that she'd call the police on him. This is the same dipshit who beat one of her husbands with a canned vegetable and then called the police and told them he was beating her. Sounds like he's gonna have one hell of a holiday.

I told him our door's always open if he still wants to change his mind, but that I didn't want to cause him anymore problems than he already had. Oh, and he also got into it with one of the other guys in his department. It surprised me because the person in question is typically a sweet old grandfatherly type. He got into an argument with Pippy over some speckled bananas that Pip wanted to put out for customers, but the guy wanted to write them off and throw them out, which he did. While signed into the scanning device under Pip's ID. The other guy got in trouble (manager saw the numbers and initially thought Pip did it, but he explained) although I'm still surprised older guy is acting like this to begin with. One rule here is that you never, never do anything on a device under someone else's number/ID.

It's not like he was taking out his frustration with any of this on me, but the more he talked, the more horrible I felt. He hates the holidays since his Mom died, his family sucks, and did I 'get along' with my family in a screwed up way like this, and doesn't family suck? And how he wishes he could move away from this place. I just wanted to reach out and hug on the poor guy. I know he's no saint, but he doesn't deserve to be treated like this, it's not right. And neither does his poor brother, for that matter. I was fairly down for the rest of the day, and I felt like crying. Hell, I still kind of feel like crying. It's strange, I've had friends before, I've been upset for them before, but I've never felt this bad. Either I've never had a friend who found themselves in such a shitty situation before, or I've never cared about a friend quite like this before. Other people have had much worse situations, and I can't bring myself to do much more than get a little depressed for humanity and go "Man, poor so and so. That really sucks, it's one thing after another with them." But today was the first time I really, honestly wanted to reach out and hold the person, and very nearly did. But I only ended up touching his back a little instead. And a small part of me, somewhere in the back of my mind, in the part of me that dreams, still believes in fantasy and getting lost in daydreams was whispering 'I'll go away with you. Where no one knows, and no one can treat you like this. We'll be happy there'. I know it's just my infatuation talking, but still, wouldn't it be nice if things were as simple as going to Narnia or diving into the Pensive? But then again, even those places had their problems, I'm reminded. Although a crazy part of the real me does wonder if he wouldn't be up for the two of us finding a place out in the country or maybe the beach. That's nuts and it'd probably come to no good, but it's nice to think about.

It's nice to know he at least feels comfortable enough with me to let stuff out like that. It's rare when I find a person I can truly be comfortable around, especially of the opposite gender. Why then, when I find the rare person like him that I can be this way with, does he have to be such a mess? He's like a train wreck that keeps on wrecking. It really does suck having feelings like this for someone that I ended up being friends with. It sucks not knowing if he feels the same way. It sucks that I'm scared to tell him because I'm afraid he'll stop being my friend. It probably would be for the better if I did lose him as a friend just to have the peace of mind that I'm not working for something I can never have, but . . . I don't want to lose him as a friend. I don't want to let go of him. I would have been disappointed enough if he didn't come over on Thursday, but I feel utterly awful about what he'll be doing instead. He's not going to be happy. His brother won't be happy. I really doubt if anyone in that house is going to be happy, all because one person is determined to have their way even if it means making everyone miserable. His miserable cunt of a sister can go play in traffic for all I care, her own kids refuse to live with her anymore. Frankly I'd be embarrassed to invite myself over to my brother's house, where my own daughter had moved to get away from me. I might see him again tomorrow, at work. If he says anything else about her, or (as I suspect) that he's worried about his brother being in the house with them, then I'll just tell him to bring J along, too. No one deserves to be treated like shit in their own house on a holiday. And buggering hell, the last thing he needs is to get arrested right now . . . I hate people.

On an up-note, D let me count some pills tonight, woohoo! I wonder if they'll want me to eventually train for technician? That'd be awesome.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Ho-ho, hee-hee, ha-ha

If anyone ever accuses me of being crazy, at least I can tell them I already spend the better part of my days surrounded by men in white coats. Tonight I'll gift you with a list of small but aggravating things people do to us in the Funny Pharm that peeve us off.

- Please know your name. Your first name does not equal your last name. If I ask for your name and you stare at me with dead eyes and answer "Uh . . . Brittney", don't get mad if I look back at you with equal disgust and lack of understanding. To quote Professor Diggory, what do they teach in schools these days? If you have recently married or divorced . . . decide what you're going to be called. Don't tell me you are Jane Smith, no, Doe! I look up Doe and get no results. Why? Because your dumb ass told either your doctor or the pharmacy technician that it was, in fact "Jane Smith-Doe". We get at least one of you a week, and we all hate you.

The same goes for multiple profiles. DECIDE what your freaking name is! If your name is Janet Elaine Dumbass, you should NOT be picking up scripts for Janet E. Dumbass and telling me they "might be under Elaine Dumbass". Oh my God, they were. Why? Why do you do this? My birth name is Grace. Most of my friends call me Gracie or Gracie Lou, but I wouldn't try to use that during a doctor's visit or get meds under that name. Lou isn't even my real middle name.

Don't tell me "pickup for Ditzy Smith" when it's for your son Johnny Smith. He's sixteen for goodness' sake, his name is on his own script. Are you going to try and put your name on his driver's license, too?

- See all the people standing there in that thing? It's called a line. Do not get in front of people. Group of idiot teenaged girls from my first week, this means YOU. Don't giggle at us and say you didn't know. Do not approach the counter from the other direction and get mad when we tell you we have to take care of the people who got there first. Do not butt between me and someone I'm waiting on to 'just ask a question.' I know your type. Your 'just a question' involves telling me a very specific brand of cough drop/laxative/gas relief/pink eye/lice shampoo and how we don't have any on the shelf, and can we call the person who works over there to ask them? No. I tell you the same thing all departments tell idiots like you. A truck comes in every night, but we (drones) have no way of knowing what exactly is going to be on it. You can call or try again tomorrow to see if your product is in. Now GO AWAY and please for the love of everything good and sugary, let me get this poor person's script for them!

- I'm an efficient kind of person. Waste not, and all that. Time shouldn't be wasted, so please, just tell me what you want or need. Don't spend five minutes giving me some long, drawn out back story about why you need me to do what you want me to do, just ask me to do it. Example: "She said you could do this for me (She? Who is she? Who, who's Naomi?!). I don't want to have to drive 30 miles to get this so she said you could tell me what generic $4 prescriptions I could have done here." The fuck . . .? I thought she meant she wanted a list of the stuff on our prescription plan, but no, that wasn't it. Turns out she just wanted a printout of all the scripts we'd filled for her in the last month. Why the fuck did she give me that jumbled life history story? It made me look stupid.

On the same note, picking up a script is easy. Just walk up, give me the last name and month/day of birth, that's all I need. I do NOT need:

"I think . . . Dr. No said he would call in a script for me. I saw him last week but they weren't able to call it in until today for some reason.It's for azri, ayrisf;hadf, azitrh . . . it's antibiotic. It was early this morning, so it should be in. This morning, around 8:45. It's for my blah blah blah but there might be another in there, I'm not sure. I called some in last week but I forget how many and . . . "

At this point I just tune out until they're done spewing this tripe at me.

- Our pharmacy is set up like this:

[Consultation window] [ cash register ]swinging door[ cash register ][consult window]locked door[drop off|drop off]

Do not approach the cash register and ask me or one of the other cashiers medical questions. If we ask "Do you need to speak with a pharmacist?" don't say "No, I just need a quick consult." OMG guess what? That means you need to SPEAK WITH A PHARMACIST. Only the pharmacist can answer your medical questions about when to start using that nicotine patch or what to put on that fungus under your boobs. Telling me about it is wasting both of our time. If I even attempted to solve your medical mysteries, I would probably lose my job, so stop asking me *sobs* Although in reality, if your complaint is "my son is screaming in agony and clutching his ear, but it's the weekend and my doctor is closed" or "I'm a smoker and mah chest . . . mah chest be hurtin', ya know?" my answer would be the same as his anyways. Get thine ass to an emergency room, stat. You don't play around with this shit. And for the record, smoking does not cause chest pains like that.

Do not stop and pause to read the signs hanging above all the various stations, notice that there is no one at drop-off or the tech[s] are on the phone or with other customers, and try to drop off your script with a cashier. We can't do jack-shit with a script. Well, I guess we could throw it in the trash, doodle gremlins on it, or make it into a paper airplane, but I don't think you'd like that.

-Speaking of trash, you know that huge black trash bin that you can see just beside the first drop-off window? It's our HIPPA barrel. We put anything with sensitive information on it in there until we bring out Mr. Shredder and feed him all those documents. This is only for documents or slips of paper we've written info down on. Do not stick your head through the window and try to read the papers in it. Do not reach across the tech's counter space and toss your soda bottle/McDonald's leftovers/chewed gum in there. No! Bad customer, bad! One of the techs got pissed enough about it Friday that she just told the manager what was going on and that she was moving the barrel out of customer reach/sight.

- Some meds are expensive. Usually I'll tell people the price after I've scanned them out of TASCo and before I scan them through the register. Why then do people insist on nodding and saying "Okay", then waiting until I've rung the stuff through register before staring with their mouth half open and going "Duuuh . . . why's it so much? It shouldn't be that much it's not usually that much." Oh, buggerfuck. Now I have to abort the transaction, which could take a while depending how useful/useless the CSM up front is about watching their palm pilot. Until I do this, the techs can't do anything with your order because it's tied up in my register. If you have a problem with the price, SAY something, dammit, before I ring it up and you put all your card info in.


Nothing much new here. Today he did write "Wash me Gracie" with his finger on the back of my truck. My truck's kind of dirty, you see. Har har, cute. The guy from the meat department saw us talking and said "Hey, you two need to take it outside after hours!" jokingly as he walked by. Later he mentioned something to another guy in grocery about me. "Then there's that guy in produce she's always talking to, I have to give her crap about it." So yeah, I guess people kind of notice we hang around each other a lot. I worried maybe I'm in produce just too darned much for someone who works on the other side of the store, but later that night, I see Pippy marching up to the pharmacy, pretending to look at things on the shelf, and getting in line to wave at me stupidly. He said later that he was going to come bang all over the counter and demand that I give him his crazy pills, but decided not to because there were customers back there. I gave him shit about it later and he said the only reason he was over there in the first place was because some genius in management decided there needed to be a rack of bananas by the express lanes on that side of the store and he was checking on them. Yeah, whatever. There was still no need to come marching into my department and bothering me. But it made me feel infinitely better about all the times I march into his when I have no real reason for being there. I talked to him for a while after I got off and he kept scolding me for 'keeping him from working' and 'bothering him' and 'wasting his time' but every time I made any sign I was actually going to leave, he'd start a whole new topic of conversation. Maybe he's just that lazy. Or maybe not.

Mom said she mentioned to Dad that I invited a friend over for Thanksgiving (I still don't know if he's coming or not) and at first she said the response was "What? Why? Don't they have a family of their own?" Oh geez Dad, I mean ouch :-( Really? She said he keeps asking more and more about who the mysterious 'friend' is and she finally told him it's a coworker of mine. Divorced for a few years now, two kids, but who would otherwise spend Thanksgiving all alone. She said he kind of went a little ballistic and said that if I was asking the guy to dinner "He'll think she's coming onto him!" Um . . . well . . .

Anyways, she kind of bit him in the butt saying that he'd do the same exact thing. And then he said the guy was 'really old'. He's 7 years older than me. "And divorced".Still younger that my youngest brother. And speaking of my brother, he's also a divorced single father. Only he only sees the kid (Chuck) about twice a freaking year. And Dad is forever mentioning women we know from churches and saying we should introduce her to him. Because my brother is such a prize? His wife was no saint, but when your husband makes loud pig noises when you are eating or putting food on your plate, I can't much blame her for leaving. Also he turned down a committed relationship with a female friend who liked him very much and would have supported him AND chuck should they have gotten together. He turned her down because "she's ok as a friend (and I suspect, fuck buddy) but she's too fat." I still think it's sad nothing ever happened with them, she was an awesome lady and we still keep in touch via Christmas cards and Facebook. I'm beginning to see why Dad didn't make it as a pastor. While he might say "don't judge, blah blah blah", I guess it's different when it's me? I dunno. I know that no one in his eyes will probably ever be good enough for me. But you can't try to set up my jackass brother with nice women from church "because he's a nice guy/good catch" and then get upset when your daughter has friend over that happens to be divorced and a few years older. Also, Mom gets pissed off at Dad for talking too much to female friends or what the fuck . . . long conversations with his ex girlfriends from 50 years ago. "But they need a frieeeennd" or "She's just a friend!" Yet if I have 'just a friend', all of a sudden he's worried I'm gonna marry the guy and ruin my life. Or the life he wanted me to live. Barefoot and pregnant married to a gospel singer, missionary, or preacher, no doubt.

I know he needs to get used to the idea of someone he doesn't know coming over, but I have to admit I'm a little surprised at the reaction. Heh. Ah well, it'll all be what it'll be, I suppose.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Do I get a gold star?

I had big plans yesterday. He was 12-9, I was 12-9, I can go places with that. Didn't exactly work out though. He was flat out broke and couldn't go anywhere with me, which turned out to be a good thing because when one particular girl is working 9-6, I end up going to lunch an hour late. Which I don't mind except when he's there, ugh. I did feel really horrible when he said he couldn't go until today, because we got paid, and spent at least an hour telling myself "Stupid, stupid, stupid you!" afterwards. Money sucks, especially when there's a lack of it. It wasn't all bad though. When we first clocked in, we walked by the schedule board and he happily mentioned that he has Thanksgiving day off, woohoo! . . . and then proceeded to go on "Not like I have plans or anything that day. Dad's going to my sister's, my kids'll be with their Mom, my daughter's mad at me. So yeah, might just sit at home with macaroni and cheese out of a box."

WTF no, just . . . no. I told him he could come over to our place and he kind of perked up and said he just might. I was gonna give him my number but we were up front by that point and he was forced to leave me for the wonders of the fresh produce section. I'll follow up with him on it as the days go by, he's sure to mention it again. If not I'll take initiative and ask him the closer it gets to the 25th to see if he'll need a ride over or anything. But, no, there is no way I'm letting anyone sit at home alone on Thanksgiving with box dinners, that's just sad. Granted, later, I realized that one of my brothers will be there, and my Dad will probably be there, and my mom is socially awkward and Dad's an ex-Baptist preacher and . . . well, if Pippy comes to dinner and I find him never speaking to me again, I'll more than understand, haha! I doubt if they'd bother him much though, sounds like he's got some real prizes in his family, too. In fact, I love hearing stories about his family, they make mine seem more normal. I don't want to get my hopes up too much that he'll come, but at the same time . . . hells yes I really want him to. Thanksgiving with us is always incredibly laid back and downright lazy. We don't dress up, t-shirt and jeans, tatty clothes, etc are fine, we consume probably a week's worth of calories in several hours and spend the rest of the day sitting around in front of a movie or walking around outside. Right up his alley, really.

And now I'll kind of sidetrack here to gush about how much I love my job, yet again. As I mentioned earlier, my day was just not going as planned. I was pissed off at myself for asking Pip to lunch only to remind him how poor he is, and then I was getting really pissed off because the other cashier was taking forever to do orders, returns, and other random crap, causing my lunch to be an hour late, meaning I couldn't even go sit with him outside. I have to remind myself though: I am at work. I am there to work, not to go socialize with people. That's just a bonus. This girl has been genuinely pretty nice to me, teaching me stuff and being helpful (a little too helpful sometimes!), and doesn't bring her own personal drama into the Pharmacy. And also I'd be thrilled at the idea of a late lunch if I didn't have Pippy to worry about. The later you go to lunch, the less time you have before you get to go home, you see. Getting the bigger chunk of your day out of the way first is always best. I finally clocked out at ten to five, went through the checkout with a single packet of pretzel M&Ms (healthy, no?) and walked outside to find him sitting on the edge of the building, talking on the phone.

"Where have you been?"

It was time for him to go back to work, which I'd figured on. Bother. So I started walking out to my truck with my water and my M&Ms, feeling quite miserable and in need of a good long sulk. when I heard someone call my name from the smoker's lounge. It was D, the awesome tech who was grilling me with questions last week and asking me if Pip was my boyfriend. I went and hung with her for a little while, and it made me forget to feel sorry for myself. When she had to leave, I called my sister for a bit and even ran into someone from college last year that I haven't seen since last December. By the time I came back from my lunch, things at the Pharm had quieted down a lot, which no one was about to complain over. It's when I get a chance to catch up on little mundane tasks and get to know my coworkers a little better. D was teaching me how to organize script logs and simultaneously grilling me some more. Have I ever been engaged? No. Is there . . . anyone in the vicinity that you're interested in? Er, yes.

" . . . so".

You know what? I trust her enough, and she said she wouldn't tell anyone. After squeeing about how cute she thinks he and I would be, she began suggesting all sorts of ways to get him out, said that she and some other Walmartians were going to see HP on the 20th and I should ask him to come with us. People probably heard us talking, I dunno if the other tech and Raj, the pharmacist care, but at this point, if it gets out, I really don't care much. If he hasn't figured it out by now anyways, he must be incredibly slow and/or oblivious. But it felt nice to be able to talk about it with someone who knows both of us.

Facebook is a funny thing. For the most part it's really great, but every now and then Pip will post something and it irritates the ever living crap out of me. Most recently today it was something about how he's off tomorrow so he can go crazy tonight with some LTD and Diet Coke. (can someone please tell me what "LTD" is? He's always going on about it). I've come to the conclusion he's not an irresponsible drinker. He stays at home and doesn't overdo things to the point that he's drunk at work or misses days. But his 'woohoo time off, alcohol yay!' type posts really friggin' piss me off. Why? Because there's something deeply ingrained in the way I was raised about being anti-alcohol? Not that I really agree with lots of things I was raised to anymore. Because I'm angry that I can't be there getting pissed with him? That I can't really get pissed or even have a little at all? I think this is it. It's one of the things that makes me feel like I've still got my training wheels on while the rest of the world is out riding mountain bikes. I really need to get my own place, I really do. I do like living here for free, but I've been told in no uncertain terms that if I bring alcohol into the house I'll be out on my ass. Even if I didn't bring it home but drank it elsewhere, I'd probably still be out on my ass. And it ticks me off that my family can still be so narrow-minded and ultra-conservative. Drinking is bad. Smoking is bad. And with my Mom . . . divorce is bad. The fact that Pippy has kids isn't too much of an issue for her. His flipping criminal record isn't even much of one. It's the fact he's a divorcé. She believes it's unbiblical and sinful to remarry after a divorce, since 'no matter what the law says, you're still married to that person forever.' In her mind, divorceés are second rate goods. Dirty and undesirable, if you will. So while yes, I realize that Divorced man = man with lots and lots of baggage, I know the issue with her is 'divorced=dirty/wrong'. So anywho, I'll end my rant for now. But I do think I'm gonna start putting away a few dollars a month towards a 'buy my own place' fund. I need to pay off my truck before I can do anything much, but boy after that . . . woohoo, lol.

Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day. He'll be at home likely sleeping off a hangover so I won't be distracted. As lovely as these little distractions are, it gets annoying after a while. But still . . . do I get a gold star for at least inviting him to dinner, however disastrous or uneventful it may turn out?

Sunday, November 7, 2010

When all else fails, improvise!

Last minute plans can sometimes turn out to be the best. You know I had really, really wanted to do something with Pippin this weekend, but he just wasn't budging with hints, it would seem. And he worked both days anyways, so I can't blame him for not wanting to go out after spending all day at the zoo we call our workplace. But I figured hey, last day of the fair, and I hate staying indoors, so I'll take Dad. Seniors get in free on Saturday. He himmed and hawed and said he was just too tired to go. Then proceeded to go outside and work *rolls eyes* So I took my nephew, Chuck instead. Dad's always complaining we never do anything together anymore, but always does this when I suggest something, bah. Chuck went with a friend on Wednesday but wasn't opposed to a second trip but . . . ugh. For as much as this town is supposedly growing and developing, our county fair gets smaller and piddlier every year. There was pretty much nothing there and we might have stayed 40 minutes. Waste of ten bucks, that was. His friend called him and then he asked if I wanted to go see Megamind after all, and told friend (Smeagol) to double check the showtimes for us, and to bring his sister if she wanted to come, too. Fair was boring us to tears and there was an hour to kill before the movie started, so Chuck had the brilliant idea to go burn time at . . . Volde-Mart. Argh. Oh well. I always like to grab some candy cheap to sneak in anyways. My favorite person was sitting outside on his lunch break, too. But I'll get to that later.

I almost didn't go see the movie, since our little theater has six screens and recently equipped two of them with RealD, so stuff like Megamind is only offered in 3D format there now, meaning a higher ticket price. "Ah, screw it," I thought. "Not like I have anything particularly better to do today." I was gonna blow twenty bucks on a vanity plate anyways, which I decided not to because the vendor looked grumpy (I'm funny like that). I've never been to a 3D movie before and after you get used to it, it's not that bad. I don't really think it's necessary either, but not bad. And the movie itself was pretty great, I thought. I was pretty thrilled that someone finally decided to do a movie from the villains point of view; I usually always end up loving villains. Barbossa, Lucius Malfoy, Jafar, etc. They're pretty awesome. And if you'll allow me to be a petty fangirl nerd, Megamind was a pretty sexy guy, himself. Cute, too. I won't spoil anything, but I love where they took his characterization and storyline. Love. Apparently after the movie everyone was famished and freezing, and Smeagol wanted to to go Steak n' Shake. Ah, good old hellhole. My second job was at this very place, you see. But I'm not really opposed to going there since it's been ages since I was a slave to that place. We probably terrorized our fellow patrons; somehow our conversation turned to STDs/STIs, what parts of your body herpes affects, curing crabs, what male prisoners do to each other, and so on. Then when it came time to pay, Chuck pulls some bills out of his wallet for his portion and one of them looks like it's been used as toilet paper. Finally paid up (Sorry to the person who had to count that till. I wasn't keeping that bill in my pocket!) and headed outside, but wait! We can't leave yet. My truck has a lid on the bed and it was perfect for climbing onto and doing 'sexy' poses and taking each other's picture! We took a lot, including a video during which Smeagol made to grab Chuck from behind and pick him up and accidentally grabbed his crotch instead. Cue Smeagol running for his life as fast as he could back into the building. We were all generally being really loud and immature and somewhat obnoxious, and people were staring at us from inside the restaurant and . . . I really didn't care. I'm not all quiet and mousy anymore, and I've gotten a little loud, especially in the past year. I like being this way, and people like me, and I have friends now that I never had before in ways I never had before. I only wish it didn't take me so long to realize it was ok to be this way. I didn't plan on doing any of that stuff with these people, but I'm so glad I did. It would have just been so much easier to stay at home, moping around because my Dad's a stick in the mud and Pip didn't offer to come with me and I'm still too scared to just flat out ask him to go anywhere, even as friends. I very nearly did just that. Granted, Chuck and Smeagol and Smeagol's sister are a good deal younger than me, and his sister can be a bit of a prude, but we all still had fun. Much more that I would have had staying at home feeling sorry for myself. And age is just a number, anyways, I suppose.

Gush, gush, gush . . .

Wishin' and hopin', and thinkin' and prayin'
Planning, and dreamin' each night of his charms.
That won't get you into his arms

So if you're looking for love you can share
All you gotta do is hold him, and kiss him, and love him
And show him that you care

So sang Dusty Springfield in 1964. While I happen to disagree with the lines about 'wearing your hair just for him' and 'doing the things he likes to do', to some extent, I have to wonder if there are truth in the first ones. While Chuck meandered into the cesspool that is Wal-Mart yesterday, as I mentioned, Pip was outside waving at us. I nearly didn't recognize him as he'd left his hair fluffy and silly looking where he usually dresses it up a little, and he was also bundled tightly in a windbreaker featuring his favorite team colors and logo. I could almost hear the sugary goo dripping from me as I walked. I love this time of year when it gets cold and this is one of the reasons why. Fluffy cold people can be ridiculously adorable, and even moreso if it's someone I already like anyways. And sure enough, almost immediately he started shivering and complaining about the cold and how much he hates it. I told him to just go inside if it was bothering him that much.

"But I don't like it inside!"

Seriously? Oh my freakin' frakkin' gawd, he's ridiculous and I love it. I need to program myself to sit beside him on the damn bench instead of across from him, one of these days I'll grow a brain and learn. I've noticed if I'm outside first, he'll sit beside instead of across from. But really, Pips? You'll insist on sitting outside in the cold and freezing your country boy arse off? Fine by me, I love the cold! And I can't blame him much, I hate the indoor lounge too. It depresses me for some reason. But I honestly do think I'm gonna start touching him. You know, because he's cold and all, he'll need warming up. I'm constantly patting him on the back or grabbing hold of him and he's never pulled away yet, so hopefully the magic of touch can get my point across better than words have. It'll either get him to snuggle back or make him really uncomfortable and possibly drive us apart a little. I've gotten to the point where I really am starting to need to know what's going on here as it's driving me crazy not knowing. Isn't that selfish of me? After all I've said about him being gun-shy about relationships and women and wanting to be patient with him, I'm wanting to force myself on him physically just to see what will happen, and it makes me feel guilty. I guess the worst that could happen is he might tell me 'Gracie, you wanna cut that out? You'll start more rumors.' Then things will be all awkward for a while until we both get over it and we'll go on being work buddies and nothing more.

But what if all I really need to do is touch him and maybe hug on him a little bit? How much can you touch on a platonic friend before it starts to be too much? I mean, Hurley from the service desk walks up and punches me, taps me, pokes me, and bear hugs me all the time and I don't mind. And he's definitely just a friend. What if Pip is just as worried about scaring me as I am of scaring him? I've never been the aggressor in a relationship before. Which might be the reason I've never been in a proper one. I always waited and waited for the guy, and it never happened. I was always taught that the man pursues, but like I said, waiting hasn't really gotten me anywhere. Back in our remodel days when I'd literally just started talking with him, Pip would hold my hand and walk around yelling "We're in loooo-ooove!" and didn't seem to care who saw. We were walking down the hallway with our friend Neesy and someone asked what we'd been up to. "Threesome!" he answered. Of course he turned right to me and asked "That alright with you, Gracie?" I'd said sure! I hadn't even known him a week at that point.

So really . . . the odd pat on the back or hugging him if he's cold shouldn't be too out of line, should it? He has a lot of acquaintances and friends around town and it's certainly not unusual to see a customer every now and then recognize him and run up for a hug. He's not dating or sexually interested in all of them, I know he's not. WTF am I saying, I have lots of friends, including married men that I hug on a regular basis. The pastor of a local church hugs me every time he sees me. Why am I so afraid to hug Pippy? Buggerfuck, I'm just gonna start doing it, especially now as it's cold. If he wants to be childish and refuse to go in, he'll get coddled like the bratty little kid he is (And I mean that as a term of endearment, don't get me wrong. I hate it when women say men are just another child to take care of).

I suppose if I just wanted a physical, friends-with-benefits kind of relationship, I wouldn't be so bothered. But I'm coming more and more to the conclusion that I'd like more with this guy. Does that mean I wouldn't sex him up in a heartbeat? Gods no, I'd love to. But I'd also just like to have candid, sincere talks, someone to plan and laugh and cry with. To sit and hold someone for hours, never saying a word, but having the best conversation of my life. We're actually already pretty candid with each other, and sometimes we go for a while without saying anything before one of us seems to speak out of obligation and make things feel a little weird.

Maybe that's why I'm scared to touch him and potentially drive him away.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Nothing much new to report at the Funny Pharm, except that it can be incredibly repetitive at times, and people constantly asking over and over if their stuff is done yet can really get to a person. A few of the people who work back there with me admit to being more than a little nutty, medicated, and jaded, but damn if they're not fun to be around. We never could cut up and really socialize much on the front end like we can back here. If it's quiet at night and everything is done, with no customers waiting, everyone, RPh's included, will stand around and shoot the shit, get to know each other a little better. One of the techs, who I'll call D, was giving me a sort of personal interview the other night; was I planning to see the new HP movie coming out? What are my feelings on the Twilight series? Do I sing? Do I play role play games online? And so on. And then she asked something that kind of tickled me a bit.

"Gotta question."


"And I don't mean for you to get mad or anything, but I have to ask because I'm the kind of person that can't not ask."


"That guy you're always with . . ."

(LULZ, I knew it was gonna be this question. My intuition ROCKS!) "Yeah?"

" . . . boyfriend?"

Is it terribly wrong that I found it really amusing that she thought that? I've actually been wondering if people were thinking it. I did explain that we got to know each other on remodel and we're just friends, but I don't really think she bought into that too much. She followed up with "Oh, well ok, that's cool. I just wondered, I know I've never seen ya'll holding hands or anything . . . maybe it's a secret one?" I kind of went 'heh', but didn't really reply. I just don't wanna start more rumors for him or anything, because in all honesty, no, he's not my boyfriend. Buggering hell, I'd really like him to be, but he's not. I did realize, thinking back on it, that on that particular day, every time D saw me outside the Pharmacy, yes, I was with Pips. And a lot the day before, too. Clocking in together, walking up front together, coming back from my truck in the parking lot after lunch, so yeah, I can see why she'd reach that conclusion and I'm glad she asked me alone instead of with him standing there. D is a really awesome and sweet chickie, BTW, and it's always loads of fun to work with her.

Coulda been you . . .

A somewhat guilty pleasure of my new schedule, the constant 12-9 shifts. Pippy gets 12-9 a lot, too. Wednesday he was getting pretty irritated with things, particularly pumpkins and customers asking him for bags. I was back from break and he was trying to run away so he could get his, but I asked him if he wanted to go anywhere for lunch before he blew out the front doors in his pumpkin-induced hysteria. Oh cool, he said yes again. 4 o clock rolled around and I left the Funny Pharm to go find him, he said let him toss a few more cabbages on the shelf and change some prices, so I went to the back and waited. Had an amusing moment when the team that comes in to repair the electric scooters asked me to take one down the hallway and see how the steering was. I crashed it into the lockers, so I'm guessing the steering wasn't too reliable. It was almost ten minutes before my wonderful colleague managed to get back there; one of the senior cashiers asked him to do a carryout for two elderly women. They proceeded to walk outside with him and both went in opposite directions, unable to remember where they parked. When he asked them what they drove, after a few moments they said it was a Toyota.

"Well ok, what does it look like?" Our parking lot is really freaking huge, btw.

"A car."

(snerk) Okay, so that's not really funny since I knew he was already frustrated at that point, but if we didn't laugh here at the 'Mart, we'd cry. Or start being violent. I get the same kind of foolery in the Pharmacy. A customer will walk up and I'll greet them . . .

"Hi! What can I do for you today.?"

"I'm here to pick up my meds/a prescription/my doctor called in a script."

And then proceed to stare blankly at me. OMG no way! You're like the first person to come and tell me they were picking up meds. Seriously, I don't know you from Adam, and I'm not psychic, I need a name. The ten people in line behind you want meds too, gimmie a name, something to work with here. I'd be tempted to just grab a random bag off the rack and push it towards you if it didn't mean I'd get fired and go to prison.

We were sharing these amusing but maddening anecdotes while we walked to the truck, and ended up going to Arby's. I would pick the one place in town that had a three car wreck right in front of it, wouldn't I? There was one in the center of the intersection coming off the main highway and going into the side road, with the hood all crumpled, another one facing it that looked undamaged, and somehow . . . a third one, on the left hand side of the road smashed into a concrete pole. How you'd hit that pole going the right direction is beyond me, and we never could figure out how it ended up going against the traffic and over there in the first place, unless it was avoiding the first wreck. When the towtruck arrived and was loading that car up, the whole piece on the front fell right off. Pip made sure to get a seat right by the window on that side of the restaurant so we could gape at it the whole time; he seemed downright fascinated by it.

The odd thing is, I heard the sirens loud and clear while I was getting in the truck and didn't think anything of it. But really, what if Brenda hadn't asked Pip to do that carryout and we left when we'd planned on instead of being a few minutes late? That might have been my poor, beautiful little Dakota all smashed up in the middle of the highway and me and Pip standing there miserable, talking to police and witnesses and giving insurance information. Or worse. It definitely would have ruined my day, and he said he would have absolutely had to go home early at that point, whether produce was a mess or not. But really, it could have been us. And I would have been really pissed off, to say the least. Funny how things work out sometimes. I ended up going to my last break pretty late too, and he was outside at the same time, and said he wasn't going to go back in until I got up and if we both ended up sitting there and never going back to work, "Oh well. You get up first!"

Dreams and disasters

I posted on FB today that it's horrible to have an absolutely wonderful dream only to wake up and realize it didn't happen. I had just such a dream last night. For some reason Pippy was relaxing on something so I laid beside him and hugged him and he was being all snuggly and crap. Then we were watching some kind of sporting event in a huge stand with bleachers, holding hands and junk. I probably have myself to blame for clinging to him at the time clock the other night; I keep remembering how nice it felt to hang onto his arm ><>

Sometimes I can't help but dwell on the unfairness of life. A girl I used to know from my church days is a single Mom. She divorced her husband and several months later had a drunken one night stand with an acquaintance, resulting in her daughter. The father wanted an abortion but she made him sign away his rights instead, and kept the baby. Nothing wrong with that at all but damn, she screwed up her life. Yet her family and church members treated her like a saint because she had produced the almighty and sacred baybee. Now she's all over FB going on about how she's engaged to her boyfriend, also a single parent, and how she has wonderful stepkids to be and they're sooo happy and shit. It pisses me off. People who fuck up their lives and know better get all this good stuff going for them, people support them and hand them whatever they might need . . . and people like me are stuck spinning their wheels wondering if I make my friend feel the same way he does to me. With only a handful of good friends and no 'church' support from anyone because I haven't married and/or bred.

Then there are wrecks like my, well, she's not my friend. But there's a girl we've known for years who married the lowest form of trailer trash in my entire neighborhood, even after he'd hit her before they were even married. They bred three times, because she's too stupid to use birth control, and don't get me wrong, their daughters are beautiful, smart little girls. The oldest one might be a little messed up though, because Mommy let Daddy babysit while she was at work at Daddy got horny. Yeah, I don't need to elaborate. Their oldest daughter got a yeast infection from him. They divorced last week and he's not allowed within 1000 feet of her or the kids. The real prize here, is that this fool is 7 months pregnant now. The Daddy is an illegal alien from Mexico with no green card and no job, and a kyd from another relationship. And this stupid bitch is THRILLED, because it's a boy this time. "Haha, I keep saying I finally got a boy because I got a REAL man to put one there, haha!" Oh wow, he can shoot sperm and one of them was a boy, that's not any easy feat. It's not like animals and humans alike have been doing it for centuries. Her kids are wardens of the state and her parents have been taking care of them. Her Mom works at the 'Mart and is the most devastated, stressed out person I think I know right now. And her stupid daughter is now saying she's gonna marry the alien and have him adopt the three daughters. My Mom flat out told her she had no business marrying this guy and the girl got all offended. I mean really, she's extremely proud of all of this, and says her third daughter has eyes 'just like that ugly man, haha'. WTF there aren't enough swear words in all the languages in the world to say what I'd like to. I hope the state awards her parents custody of the three girls and they sever ties with her for good. Those kids deserve better. This stupid bitch has ruined her daughters' lives, is making her parents lives hell, and she's just as happy as a pig in mud.

Yet I have a fairly decent job, great coworkers and managers, a family who is pretty supportive of me and lets me live here for free, but I'm miserable and uncertain because I want nothing more than to put my arms around Pip and feel how warm he is, to kiss him and let him know that people really do care about him, that my shoulder is there if ever he should need it. It kind of makes me feel a bit juvenile, but in the end, I have to come to the conclusion that I may be the more fortunate one when compared to my acquaintances of epic failure.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Lunch hour; it always arrives in the nick of time here in the Funny Pharm. Last week, it was that woman with the devil horns that I felt the need to escape from. Today, I was nearly driven batshit insane. You see, if you approach the counter and I tell you that your meds are not ready yet, but to feel free to have a seat on the bench, or shop around, and I'll let you know when it's ready, I mean just that. I'll call you to the front of the line as soon as your drugs are bagged and given the thumbs up by the RPh. However . . . this woman. Ugh. She got back into the line and stood in it no less that FOUR times, each time she approached my counter she was getting pissier and pissier. I assured her that the pharmacist had her order in his hands right that very minute and was working on bagging it. "But you told me that fifteen minutes ago!" Yes, yes I did. You have SEVEN different meds needing filled for yourself, and two for your husband, this takes time. Do you really want the pharm to just toss random drugs in willy-nilly and helter-skelter and 'Oh well, I was in a hurry, so here you go'? The RPh who was working on your order must have seen your idiotic behavior of standing in line over and over to harass me multiple times, because when he was finished he came over to personally explain to you why it had taken so long. He'd been on the phone with either your doctor or insurance company, not sure which, fixing things so that you didn't end up paying $800 for that stuff in the tan bottle. Your response?

"Oh well I wouldn't have paid for it if that happened!"

No thanks to the man for troubling himself over it, no nods of understanding as to why the order took longer than it should have, nothing. Nothing but entitlement. And I really love how people decide they want to up and walk away or demand we 'give a prescription back' so they can take it to another pharmacy RIGHT as it's being finished and handed over the counter to me. Gah, just take your attitude and go to hell. Fortunately that was the worst thing that happened all day, although this lovely patron also decided to open the prescription bag and take out every single one of the meds and examine them at length, then proceed to ask the RPh no less than three questions about each of them. Wait, I thought you were in a hurry? I thought you had sick people waiting in the car? I just really hate people like this, and I was glad to see that one of my old friends from the front end had arrived at 4PM on the dot, exactly halfway through my day, and told me to go ahead and leave for lunch. I usually like to go as late as I can, but since she was there, and I was starting to go nuts, I was more than ready. Also Pippy and I worked the same schedule today and I wanted to hang out with him for a while.

We see just about everything at Volde-Mart. Going back in from our first break, the lady who is head of safety and Loss Prevention drew our attention to something she'd spotted coming in along with us. A man, pushing his small child in a cart had stopped dead in his tracks after passing the cart area, whipped out some Q-tips, and started swabbing the kid's ears out. Really . . . really? Who does this? Who even carries Q-tips with them?

An older man came to my register in the Funny Pharm to ring out a small purchase. KY Yours and Mine. I really shouldn't be grossed out by this as everyone has sex, but why is it that when people buy lingerie, condoms, and lube, it's always the last kind of person you'd ever in your life want to picture participating in such activities? Eurgh.

Pharm was pretty dead and one of the techs insisted I go and enjoy a last break, even though we were closing in half an hour. Woohoo, legitimate paid free time! I'll just go walk up front and if I never made it outside or to the break room because I got hung up in the produce department, oh well. Blah blah blah, shoot the shit, blah blah . . . wah?

Pip: "Is that . . . is that man in a skirt? He is. That guy's wearing a skirt!"

Lo and behold, what would appear to be a normal looking customer from the waist up goes by a good distance away, but indeed, that's not a pair of baggy shorts he's got on. The man really is wearing a skirt. Huh. Well, I guess you don't see that every day.

Sob Story

I was warned I'd get a few like this when I started in the Pharm. Lady was getting some oxycodone last night. I needed her ID so I could log it in our book, as we do with all narcotic drugs. Her male friend (whom I had wrongly assumed was her husband) went dutifully out to the car to get it, and while we were waiting for him to come back, she shared with me the fact that she'd gotten a hysterectomy done last Monday and two days later her husband decided to punch her in the stomach. What the FUCK WHO DOES THIS?! The friend she was with turned out to be a former police officer turned corrections officer who is actually re-entering the force soon. She's living with him for now and he leaves her with a handgun every day. I sincerely hope things work out for her and she manages to never see the toxic husband again. I don't care how upset he might be with her for whatever reason, if there's even a reason at all. He should have just left her and moved on with his life, I don't think there's any excuse for donkey punching a post op hysterectomy patient! I hope Karma visits him soon, I hear she's a real bitch.

Meanwhile, in Hobbiton . . .

Talked to Pips a lot today, since we had the same shift and all. He wasn't overly flirtatious and I couldn't take him anywhere, since I don't have my truck on Mondays and Tuesdays, but we laughed a lot. The produce department ran out of their bags and he'd been getting bitched at all day for it. How a multi-billion dollar company runs out of such basic stuff is one of the great mysteries of life, I suppose. He actually did mention the fair, but I didn't ask him if he wanted to go yet. If it comes up again tomorrow (same shift again, huzzah!) I'll bite the bullet and do it. The worst he can do is say no, right? I was pretty thrilled to hear that the only reason he'd go is to get the sausage they sell at the concession stands and wouldn't do rides because he'd just throw up everywhere. I used to love rides, but last time I tried them I ended up dry-heaving after each one, so it would have been a problem if he wanted to go and get his guts spun silly. Eurgh, I hate tilt-a-whirls. He also mentioned that he doesn't think his kids are going because they haven't hit him up for money for it, which is good because now if I do manage to get him to come with me, I won't be taking him away from them. Heaven help me I don't want to be "That bitch who takes my Dad's time" to anyone. Another funny thing came up, one way or another, and he mentioned he really wants to see a movie he thinks came out.

Harry Potter.

I mean . . . really Pips, you? Harry Potter? Not that that isn't really awesome because I want to see it too, but you just really didn't seem like the type. He also mentioned he really liked Lord of the Rings. I wonder what he'd think if he ever knew I referred to him as a hobbit frequently in the company of family and friends. Of course he also mentioned that he's "Too much of a lazy dumbass" to read the books, but that he really enjoyed all the movies. I told him he's mean to himself like that.

"Hey, I'm truthful." He wasn't smiling when he said it. Bah, you make me sad when you do that to yourself, Pip. Granted I'm aware by the online chats I've had with you that you're not the most literate person I know, but you're not a dumbass. And I don't care if your back makes weird noises when you stand up, you're not old, either.

But anyways, at least he's talking more again. Last night he was clocking out and I tried to stop him by grabbing him by the arm and going "Nnnnooooooooo!" He just turned around the other way and used his other arm, pfft. But he didn't pull away from me, either. There I go again, reading into the tiniest things. But then again, I'm not the kind of person who just touches anybody. Some people you can touch and it's like 'eh' or 'that was weird' or even 'ick'. But with Pips it just feels like the most natural thing ever, even all those months ago when I hardly knew him and he wanted me to hold his hand so we could start fake rumors.

I really need to get this shit sorted out . . . :(

Saturday, October 30, 2010

The Phunny Pharm: Week 1

(I really dunno what happened with the font on this post, but I can't seem to fix it, so just bear with me, sorry)

I really am enjoying my new position, but it's not without it's share of insanity and stupidity on the part of customers, or as I should now refer to them, patients.

To the family who gave us all kinds of hell yesterday over a GI cocktail, just . . . just go. We told the first person who came to pick up the scripts that we could give him the inhaler, but not the cocktail, because that requires pre-approval before it can be filled. We faxed your doctor about the issue, they haven't faxed us back, so you need to take it up with them. You just assumed the attitude that we're all complete morons and asked us to 'give the prescription back' so you can take it somewhere else, and that you're never having anything filled at Volde-Mart again. Word to the not so wise, we can do without your business, we really can. Some people just aren't worth the hassle they create, whether they spend money with us or not. And good luck getting that cocktail filled at any other pharmacy, as it requires PRE-APPROVAL. No RPh in his or her right mind is going to fill it, no matter what establishment they work for, because they probably don't want to lose their job and go to prison. For the love of fuck, when you're having issues like this, call the store before showing up and save yourself the trip.

A woman came in Wednesday and we were running really behind, so naturally we didn't have her script ready. She was an older, larger woman, with her hair dyed shocking shades of red and black, and to show her Halloween spirit, she had a very convincing set of small horns on her head, along with eyeshadow to make Mimi Bobeck proud. She was getting madder by the minute as she waited and waited and waited to have her meds filled, and I was having the absolute worst time not laughing. Thank Eru things were quiet enough that I could leave the other cashier and take a lunch before I lost control of myself.

The Little Blue Pill

I've only worked four days in the Phunny Pharm and I've already seen three happy pill incidents. The first, a lady was picking up several scripts, and before I rang her up, she handed one back to me and asked if I could give her three pills instead of nine because they're so expensive. "It's Viagra", she explained. "Cialis didn't work so we're trying this now, and I don't want to buy nine of them if this doesn't work, either. Well, truthfully hon, I don't want ANY of these, but well . . . my husband." She at least had a really great sense of humor about the whole thing, and I called the manager over there so she could tell him. "Now, don't laugh," she said as he approached the counter. He promised not to, but by the time she had told him what she told me, adding "I'm 67 years old for goodness' sakes, I don't need this!" all three of us were chuckling. The pharmacist insisted to her that he was laughing with her, not at her. But damn if those suckers aren't expensive. about US$19 for a single pill. I know because I had a gentleman waiting in the store two hours for one last night. No idea why it took so long to fill a script for one pill, but he was also pretty good natured about it. He's a truck driver and only home once a month, you see, and it's the wife's birthday this weekend, you see, and oh dear, Shiny thinks you're a great guy, Mr Customer, but this is really more info than she needed. Still, nice fellow. And then I had another guy earlier in the week who got surlier and surlier the each time he asked if his stuff was ready and I had to tell him no. It was only when I finally rang him out that I noticed what the script was for. I actually feel pretty bad for these guys who no longer function correctly 'down there' as they age. While I don't have much experience in the sex department (ok ok, so I have none. Blah.), I like to think I have a fairly high drive for a woman and I'd hate to lose that. Gah.

I'm not the droid you're looking for!

Customer: "Did the insurance run through on this? How much did it take off?"

Me: "Oh, I'm really not sure, but you can step down and see lady or gentleman at the Drop Off window and one of them can--"

C: "You see I was with Blah Blah Insurance but we changed and now we're with Yadda Yadda, and I need to know which one went through."

Me: "Like I said, I don't have access to that info and can't really answer your insurance questions, but if you'll go and see--"

C: "Last time, something messed up and I wanna make sure that doesn't happen again and . . ."

When me and my siblings were smaller, and were being particularly ornery or not listening to our parents, but not enough to make them really mad, they'd grab us by the face, pull it really close to their own, and say "We have a lack of communication!" This is exactly what we have going on here, multiple times a day. It's really frustrating to have to communicate a complicated problem over and over because you're talking to the wrong person. I'm trying to save you this frustration by sending you down to one of the wonderful techs at drop off. I'm not being rude, I'm just a cashier and we're at the bottom of the totem pole back here, so to speak. My computer literally cannot pull up detailed insurance information so for the love of all that is good and decent PLEASE SHUT UP AND GO SEE MY COWORKER! *regains breath* This would happen up front, too, when I'd have to tell people multiple times to take their issue to the service desk as I couldn't fix it. If only I were a Jedi . . .

Then again, if I were a Jedi, I probably wouldn't be working at Volde-Mart or writing this blog.

Random LULZ

*ring ring, tech picks up phone*

Tech: "Hey Raj (Raj is one of our Pharmacists), customer on the phone, she wants to know if we sell any detox meds."

Raj: *with a slight smile* "Depends. What's she wanting to clean out?"

Tech *checks with customer* "Marijuana."

Raj: *snerk* "No, no we don't."

Tech: "No ma'am, he says we don't have anything like that."

We all then looked at each other and laughed for a while.

All in all it was a good week, and the level of busyness back there reminds me of when I worked layaway during my first stint with the store.


I'm not doing well with the whole 'moving into the 21st century' thing at all. But then again, Pippin had his walls up again the past few days.

You cut me deep, Shrek. You cut me real deep just now. You know what  I think? I think this whole wall thing is just a way to keep somebody  out.
 - Donkey

Maybe he's a little put off that I didn't take the bait when he kept asking me what my weekend schedule was. Can't say that I blame him, really, but I'm honestly that oblivious sometimes, and I'm still kicking myself for it. Not that he was being rude or anything, but he was definitely down about something. He's working for 9 days straight, because they like to screw with our schedules like that sometimes. He also still seems bummed that his kids won't do Halloween with him anymore because they're 'too old' now, and doubly put out that his 15 year old daughter is attending a Halloween party tonight. He pleaded with his ex to please know who these people were whose house she's going to, and make sure there would be adults there to watch the mob. "Because you know what you got up to when you were that age, and I don't want no grand-babies." He's beside himself with anxiety that his kids are going to make the same mistakes he and his ex did when they were young, the poor bastard, and it's not uncommon. And I do hope for his and his daughter's sakes that she's smart enough not to get knocked up until she's old enough and responsible enough. I compare Pippy to a hobbit, for obvious reasons. Good natured, cheeky smile, an all around impish appearance, and loverly blue eyes. Yet I'm often reminded of other lines from Shrek.
He stinks? No. He makes me cry? (Uh, well, once. Finding out the person you fancy and get on well with committed first degree felony is fairly unsettling). But no. 
No! Layers! Onions have layers. Orges have layers! Onions have  layers. You get it? We both have layers. 
Ohhh, Pippin has layers. 
Ohh! You're so wrapped up in layers, onion boy, you're afraid of your  own feelings.
Buggering hell. Mom often reminds me that Pip has lots of baggage. You know, it's not even the criminal charge that really bothers her; as a matter of fact we both tend to think he was in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong person. I've looked up the penalties for doing what he was charged with and the stuff involved. He should be sitting in state prison for at least three years and paying fines out his rear for the rest of his life, but he ended up with a few days in county and a probation. A hand-slap punishment. But anyways, yes. Not that that bothers mother dearest. Her issue? His ex and his kids. Particularly the ex. I didn't really realize why she often reminded me of the baggage until recently. It's not that the ex is a jealous person who'll come after me and try to stab my eyes out, it's the damage she and her relationship with Pippy have already done. I just hope I'm not coming across as a stalker or Peppermint Patty or anything. I'd rather be the Little Red-Haired Girl to his Charlie Brown. We actually had a discussion about that the other day, because he was stocking the pumpkins and called me Charlie Brown. I told him I was the Little Red-Haired Girl, and he couldn't remember her at all. Easy to do, since she never really shows up, but still. I dropped him a note on FB last night just to say I hope he had a good day and that I felt bad he had such a long stretch of work, and to not let the pumpkins or the crazy old folks get to him. He never wants to see a pumpkin again, you see, and has nearly run over countless old folks this week with pallets of the things because they dart out in front of him and then stop like a deer in the headlights. He left a friendly thanks this morning, albeit filled with chat speak and no punctuation, but at least he responded. Although I was still kind of hoping he'd ask me to do something one of these nights or maybe do lunch. Pfft. 
I think I'm gonna get up and go to church tomorrow morning. I'll just go to the one that meets at the skating rink, it's a fairly decent place, as far as churches go. Then I may be pathetic and stop at Volde-Mart with the weak excuse that it's Halloween and Mom just realized now that we have no candy and we need candy. (Heh, *need* candy?). For us. We don't get trick-or-treaters out here in the sticks. And maybe a rotisserie chicken for lunch or something lame like that. Just so I can have the excuse to show him I dress like a girl every now and then? Ohmygawd that's horrible of me. 
But if not, he is, someone unfortunately for him, working all this week until Thursday, and I'm sure he'll have a few 12-9s like I do, and then I might be able to get him away from our colleagues and all to myself for that one wonderful little hour. Cooler than the flipside of my pillow, that's right . . .  :-\
I'm starting to wonder if I should just be forward and risk losing him as a friend, and wondering if he's worth keeping around as a friend if he'll cause me to constantly wish we were more, and I feel horrible about it.