A jubilant Monday to you and yours,
More on that title in a second...
But firrrrst...
A question: when was the last time you came incredibly close to actually punching someone in the back of the head? Like, ACTUALLY. Like you could feel your fist clenching and teeth gritting together in preparation of a deadly blow? I came within inches of punching someone in the back of the head today, a mere two hours ago. The scene: Approximately 1:30, Post-Meridian. The PharmaPlus in the Metro Concourse, located approximately beneath Roy Thompson hall at streets King & University.
This particular PharmaPlus transforms into a hub for professional, office-type gals betwixt the hours of 12 and 2 PM - lunch hour for many. Lines as far as the eye can see of these gals buying concealer, tampons, hand sanitizer, manufactured Hostess confectioneries, personal lubricant, y'know - that racket. It takes fucking FOREVER to get the cash register as a result. It's just bitch in Reitman's-purchased tasteful-yet-modern sweater set after bitch in Reitman's-purchased tasteful-yet-modern sweater set buying one item at a time and putting it on their credit card.
Today - after getting my boss and I's lunch - I headed over there to get some Diet Coke and some SPF-packed moisturizer (you'll know why in a scant few seconds... trust me) and took my place in line. Today, I was situated behind the most searing assache I've ever come into contact with - it was a bitch who was RETURNING A TOOTHBRUSH OVER CREDIT CARD. Do you KNOW how long this transaction took?!?! AND, the motherfucking toothbrush cost $1.27. ONE DOLLAR AND TWENTY-SEVEN CENTS. And she NEEDED to return it. On credit card. Which she needed to sign for, the fucking cashier needed to sign for, the fucking manager needed to sign for - I'm surprised I didn't need to sign for it. It was EXTRAORDINARY bullshit. She then proceeded to haggle over some Polysporin which she claimed was 20% off in her current coupon flyer - and the cashier was like "yeah... it's 20 off. It says so right there". But this bitch was insistent that it was 20% off ON TOP of that 20% because, y'know, that makes all the sense in the world. CUT TO 5 MINUTES LATER - I'm swearing under my breath and just looking at her murderously. She seems unfazed. Finally, the manager convinces her that the discount has been given, and this bitch waddles away narrowly escaping me actually punching her in the head.
My God I hate these people. Like, I get it - you're desperate for human interaction and the only way you can claim some sort of importance is by needlessly robbing people of minutes from their day. But all I ask is that next time you please go and take this out on a homeless person or something... they'll gladly assume a captive audience with you for a lot less money than it costs to return a toothbrush. AN ASSFUCKING TOOTHBRUSH!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?!?!
Gah - sorry. It just confounds me...
Another thing that confounds me...
Do y'all remember Baywatch? How could you forget. Do y'all remember Jeremy Jackson? He played Hasselhoff's character's son - here he is during his stint on Baywatch, looking his age...
Yeah. We all spanked to that at one time or another... ladies, am I right?
Well, here he is PRESENT DAY-
I asked my boss to guess how old he is/was. And my boss (not knowing who he is/was) guessed, without remote hesitation, "early 40's".
Then I gleefully revealed to him that the fellow pictured and myself are the same age. Yeah. JerJack and I are the exact same age (well... not really... he's actually a year older than I am, but at present we're both the big two seven.)
Upon laying eyes on Mr. Jackson, I can honestly say I cherish my vampire-esque aversion to sunlight more than every. HOLY. BALLS. That is Busted with a capital 'Usted. He looks like the lead singer of Warrant/Quiet Riot/Whitesnake/The Scorpions/some hair metal band of yesteryear...
So, to all of you in your mid-late 20's still soakin' up the rays like it's good for what ails ya - it's not. 20-something wrinkles ain't pimples, darlings - they're not going to clear up. They're there forever. Add to that the occasional gray pube, and you might as well go cash in on the 20% discount on Thursdays at Denny's (that's the seniors discount day... I know this because as a kid, I couldn't wait until I turned 55 and older so I could get it... now I feel decidedly different).
Anyballs... that's all the wisdom I have to impart today...
Slather on the sunscreen,
--- Aj
More on that title in a second...
But firrrrst...
A question: when was the last time you came incredibly close to actually punching someone in the back of the head? Like, ACTUALLY. Like you could feel your fist clenching and teeth gritting together in preparation of a deadly blow? I came within inches of punching someone in the back of the head today, a mere two hours ago. The scene: Approximately 1:30, Post-Meridian. The PharmaPlus in the Metro Concourse, located approximately beneath Roy Thompson hall at streets King & University.
This particular PharmaPlus transforms into a hub for professional, office-type gals betwixt the hours of 12 and 2 PM - lunch hour for many. Lines as far as the eye can see of these gals buying concealer, tampons, hand sanitizer, manufactured Hostess confectioneries, personal lubricant, y'know - that racket. It takes fucking FOREVER to get the cash register as a result. It's just bitch in Reitman's-purchased tasteful-yet-modern sweater set after bitch in Reitman's-purchased tasteful-yet-modern sweater set buying one item at a time and putting it on their credit card.
Today - after getting my boss and I's lunch - I headed over there to get some Diet Coke and some SPF-packed moisturizer (you'll know why in a scant few seconds... trust me) and took my place in line. Today, I was situated behind the most searing assache I've ever come into contact with - it was a bitch who was RETURNING A TOOTHBRUSH OVER CREDIT CARD. Do you KNOW how long this transaction took?!?! AND, the motherfucking toothbrush cost $1.27. ONE DOLLAR AND TWENTY-SEVEN CENTS. And she NEEDED to return it. On credit card. Which she needed to sign for, the fucking cashier needed to sign for, the fucking manager needed to sign for - I'm surprised I didn't need to sign for it. It was EXTRAORDINARY bullshit. She then proceeded to haggle over some Polysporin which she claimed was 20% off in her current coupon flyer - and the cashier was like "yeah... it's 20 off. It says so right there". But this bitch was insistent that it was 20% off ON TOP of that 20% because, y'know, that makes all the sense in the world. CUT TO 5 MINUTES LATER - I'm swearing under my breath and just looking at her murderously. She seems unfazed. Finally, the manager convinces her that the discount has been given, and this bitch waddles away narrowly escaping me actually punching her in the head.
My God I hate these people. Like, I get it - you're desperate for human interaction and the only way you can claim some sort of importance is by needlessly robbing people of minutes from their day. But all I ask is that next time you please go and take this out on a homeless person or something... they'll gladly assume a captive audience with you for a lot less money than it costs to return a toothbrush. AN ASSFUCKING TOOTHBRUSH!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?!?!
Gah - sorry. It just confounds me...
Another thing that confounds me...
Do y'all remember Baywatch? How could you forget. Do y'all remember Jeremy Jackson? He played Hasselhoff's character's son - here he is during his stint on Baywatch, looking his age...
Yeah. We all spanked to that at one time or another... ladies, am I right?Well, here he is PRESENT DAY-
I asked my boss to guess how old he is/was. And my boss (not knowing who he is/was) guessed, without remote hesitation, "early 40's".Then I gleefully revealed to him that the fellow pictured and myself are the same age. Yeah. JerJack and I are the exact same age (well... not really... he's actually a year older than I am, but at present we're both the big two seven.)
Upon laying eyes on Mr. Jackson, I can honestly say I cherish my vampire-esque aversion to sunlight more than every. HOLY. BALLS. That is Busted with a capital 'Usted. He looks like the lead singer of Warrant/Quiet Riot/Whitesnake/The Scorpions/some hair metal band of yesteryear...
So, to all of you in your mid-late 20's still soakin' up the rays like it's good for what ails ya - it's not. 20-something wrinkles ain't pimples, darlings - they're not going to clear up. They're there forever. Add to that the occasional gray pube, and you might as well go cash in on the 20% discount on Thursdays at Denny's (that's the seniors discount day... I know this because as a kid, I couldn't wait until I turned 55 and older so I could get it... now I feel decidedly different).
Anyballs... that's all the wisdom I have to impart today...
Slather on the sunscreen,
--- Aj
