Lance Bass Ruined My Life

The Curious Case Of The Overly Judgmental Cashier

A very interesting thing happened to me this morning. I got called into work last night to work the graveyard shift because my coworker is a total douchebag and moron. (A doucheron.) I know she managed to get her ass suspended from work, and I think she might be fired, so there might be quite a few overnight shifts in my future. That’s just fine with me because it gives me time to write, read, and do my laundry using someone else’s water.

Anyway, that’s beside the point. When I got out of work, I had to stop because I was out of cigarettes. This was a very bad thing because I had been up all night and without nicotine to fuel me, I can be very, very grumpy. Like much grumpier than I am on a normal basis. Now combine that with morning traffic and you have a recipe for severe homo rage.

Well, while I was picking up my cigarettes I decided to have a healthy breakfast. So I picked up a coke and a Slim Jim while I was there. (Yes, I am thinking about writing my very own cookbook.) It was just a pretty much normal occurrence for me. Sure, I always get the looks of judgment and people asking me what kind of person eats a Slim Jim at 7 in the morning. Me, I’m the kind of person who enjoys a good meat adjacent product in the morning hours.

Today was a little different though. My cashier was a new person who was not familiar with my purchasing habits. She was an older woman, who bore a striking resemblance to Peppermint Patty. I was a little taken aback when I first saw her and had to fight the urge to call her “Sir”.

Well, Peppermint was more than just a little judgmental about my Slim Jim purchase. She actually picked it up and smacked my hand with it. I was a little shocked by this because no one has ever hit me with a Slim Jim before. Now I can’t say that I’m not the type of person who would never hit a customer because at one point I totally did when I was working at the casino. In my defense, he totally deserved it because he wouldn’t listen when I told him to stop touching my shit. All I was trying to do was buy a snack. How does that warrant getting hit with said snack?

It’s just not cool. I would have filled myself with some of that homo rage I was talking about earlier, but I was in such a state of shock that I just walked out. And it totally did ruin my Slim Jim eating experience. Well played, Peppermint Patty.

For future reference, unless we are on intimate terms, I don’t particularly enjoy getting smacked with meat first thing in the morning.

Hell Is Empty And All The Douchebags Are Here

So today has been one of those days that has completely validated my argument that napping is completely awesome. After my day of complete naptitude, I actually had to join the real world and go back to work. For a whole three hours. I know. I absolutely exhausted myself. Now before you throw shit at me, I should explain that the reason I had to go in for only three hours is because I worked so many hours so far this week that I couldn’t work a full shift without racking up more than the approved amount of overtime. So don’t hate, bitches.

Now a while back I talked about how there is one constant in life and that is that there is always going to be an episode of Law and Order on any time you turn on the television. Well, I wasn’t quite right about that. There is another constant in life. And that is that no matter what or where I am, I will work with a completely inept human being. And that is no different at this job.

When you work the graveyard shift at this job, the only thing you really have to do is be there. You don’t even have to be awake. Yeah, that right. We get paid to sleep when we work the graveyard shift. So really the only thing you have to do is set an alarm to get up on time to make breakfast for the people we help. Well, my coworker can’t even do that. I showed up this morning to find her still asleep. I, at least, have the decency to be the fuck up when my relief comes in.

So I proceed to look at her like the moron she is. She responds to this look by saying, “I haven’t done anything yet,” and going back to sleep. So I basically had to do everything. And she had the nerve to get pissed off at me when I woke her up and random times for no reason whatsoever.

So she left and the rest of the shift went by so much better. It’s amazing how much easier things are when the stupid people go away.

Anyway, after work, I decided that since my coworker is such a moron, I deserved some pancakes. So I went to Denny’s. While I was there I ordered the much sought after pancakes and got a craving for some seasoned fries. What else was I supposed to do, but order them? I mean there are certain cravings that must not be ignored and seasoned fries are one of them.

Now I just want to say that pancakes and bacon with a side of seasoned fries is a completely acceptable breakfast. The look of judgy that the waitress gave me was completely unnecessary. Okay, so maybe seasoned fries are the most normal thing to get at 9:30 in the morning, yet I just don’t care. That’s the thing about being a fatass. You don’t get this waist size without being creative in your food choices. So don’t judge on me, especially when a tip depends on it.

See, this is why getting out of bed is just a bad idea and should be discouraged. In fact, I may never get out of bed again. Just as soon as I win the lottery, get a rich husband, or discover a delivery service whose sole purpose of existing is to fetch me shit, I am going to look into taking up permanent residence in my bed.  

The Lost Art

So I’ve come to discover something. Since school has ended for the summer I have only been working one job. Yes, that one job is usually an average of 55 hours a week, but that doesn’t change the fact that I have only been working one job, instead of the three that I have during the school year. And I’m not going to lie, it’s like super sweet.

But since I have only been working one job, I have found myself with a giant surplus of time on my hands. I am not used to having this many hours to fill and absolutely nothing to fill them with. So I have been trying to use my time constructively. This week I have decided to do something that I have not really had a whole lot of time for in a long time. I have revisited the lost art of napping. And all I’m going to say about that is napping is fucking awesome. It just might be more awesome than Popeye’s Biscuits. Okay, that was a bit of an over exaggeration, but really the only thing that could make napping ever better is if when you woke up there was a warm Popeye’s Biscuit waiting on the nightstand for you. (Bonus points if it was put there by a scantily clad Neil Patrick Harris. (Damn you How I Met Your Mother!)(Chill out, Lance, it’s just a crush.))

And I am really taking this napping thing seriously. I took four naps today. Four. It was just that kind of day. Since there was a nice break from the drought that we’ve been having that has made it hotter than Bradley Cooper in this fucking state and I had the day off, I decided to stay the fuck in bed. It was great. The only downside is now a great big dip in my mattress.

So, from this day forward, I am very pro-nap. Everyone should nap as often as they can. For the chief reason of making me feel a little less like a loser. I mean when your day consists of doing nothing but taking nap after nap, it sort of makes you feel like your life is just not on the right course. So nap, people. Nap for me. If just to make me feel like I have actually accomplished something this week.

Now on a somewhat sort of related note, I need to appeal to you generous side. I usually avoid asking my readers for donations, but I think this is a special circumstance. So I am begging everyone and anyone to help me. I am in desperate need of some form of therapy and I cannot afford that shit. I did take a break from my busy napping schedule to go to Target to buy Season 5 of How I Met Your Mother. This might not seem like something that would require therapy, but you have to look at the fact that I bought Seasons 1-4 on Friday and have finished them already. That some seriously fucked up obsession there. So I am begging you to help me break the spell that this show has on me. And please do this before Season 6 comes out or I could quite literally be camping out in Target waiting for it. And really, that’s just not awesome.

Another Letter To Lance Bass

Dear Lance,

I have been thinking a lot about you lately. Mainly about the fact that you need to get off your ass and make with the white horse already. It’s hot as hell in the city and I could really go for that arctic level air conditioner that I am going to install in the N’sync themed mansion that you are going to build me. (For anyone who thinks that this is a bad idea or wants to mock the Mans’ync will promptly be banished to the Brittney basement.)

I just think you need to know what you are causing, Lance. I mean the longer it takes you to get with the fucking program, is another minute that my self esteem is slipping into nonexistence. For you information, it wasn’t that great to begin with, so your lollygagging isn’t helping. Sooner or later, I am going to slip into such a deep depression that I am going to be sitting at home with a tub of ice cream, watching a marathon of Drop Dead Diva on Lifetime, and wondering at which point my life took a tragically wrong turn. Is that really what you want, Lance? Do you really want that on your conscience?

And I should warn you, Lance, that I’m seriously thinking about cheating on you. I mean it’s nothing personal because I still love you, but I have developed a very unhealthy attraction to Neil Patrick Harris. And not to point any fingers, but it really is your fault. If you had done the whole white knight thing earlier, I wouldn’t have had the time to watch hours and hours of How I Met Your Mother (Yes, I am aware that this show came out years ago, but I’m always a little late to jump on the bandwagon (ex. everything else in my life)) so that this love could form. So really it is your own fault that I have developed feelings for Doogie Howser M.D..

And this is not just another one of those torrid love affairs like the ones I would have with Ryan Reynolds, the new Captain Kirk guy, or Emma Stone (I have such a homo crush on this girl). This would be like one of those tabloid affairs that would get me on Inside Edition so I could bitchslap Billy Bush or something.

It’s just something that you might want to think about there, Lance. I mean, yes, there are probably better guys out there, or at least less bitter guys, but really are any of them going to give you the cutest celebrity nickname ever, Lawn? I think not.

Yours,

Sean

I Need To Watch Less TV

I am sort of obsessed with the new website that is being advertised all over the television, ChristianMingle.com. Have you seen this? If not, this might say something that about the choices I make in the programming I watch. (As much as I would like to be able to cut Lifetime from my life, I just can’t. It’s too hard dammit.) Like, I’m so obsessed with the website, I sort of want to sign up for it, even though it is clearly not going to cater to the kind of dating I’m looking for. In fact, they are probably hardcore against it.

It just amuses me that this site is advertising that they can find God’s match for you. Like God doesn’t have better things to do than to sit behind a computer, matching up people who should probably be looking for their soul mate at church or something. And really, I find it just a tad been sacrilegious that this site even exists. I think it goes against the major plan. Isn’t being single, God’s way of telling you that you should be sad and lonely?

It’s the same principle that makes me really irritated at every church I pass that has about seven million sprinklers on their front lawn. Isn’t a drought God’s way of killing your grass? And isn’t running all those sprinklers going against God’s plan? And perhaps God is pissed because so many people are going against his wishes that he is punishing us with an even longer drought. So thank you, churches, it’s all your fault.

Luckily, I don’t have to worry about defying God, except for that whole dude shall not lie with dude thing, but whatev. You see, I don’t really have to go online to find my soul mate. God has already sent me the Popeye’s Biscuit and clearly that is a love that can span space and time.

By the way, go Facebook and like my ass please. Right now the only person who has liked me is me and that just really sad.

The Summer Of Lazy

So Friday was the last day of school. It was kind of a weird day for me because as much as I bitch about them, I got a little attached to the monsters. And facing a summer without seeing them is a little sad. Not to mention that I don’t even know if I am going to be able to get a job another sub job at that school again next year makes me kind of miss them, even the one who came to her graduation ceremony dressed like she just stepped out of the hooker scene in Flashdance. (Is there a hooker scene in Flashdance? I actually haven’t seen the movie so I don’t know for sure, but if there is I’m sure it would involve the same outfit that this 1^st grader girl was wearing. FIRST GRADE!). I know, right, who knew that underneath all that hate and ice, there is a marshmallow buried down there in my heart.

But it’s not going to be all fun and games because I still have to make money over the summer or I will be in that unfortunate position where they will threaten to take my car away again. So since school has let out I have actually worked a full week’s hours in three days. Yeah. Luckily I don’t do a whole lot at my job except read books and watch movies.

Now that it is summer and I am going to be taking a small vacation (I love how my idea of a vacation is only working one job for two months.) it is time to catch up on a bunch of stuff that I have been letting slide lately. Like cleaning my car. I’m embarrassed to say that the pile of trash on the passenger floor has grown to a level not only level with the seat, but has surpassed it. This makes a very dangerous situation when making sharp turns and the Great Wall of Crap comes crashing down on you.

Another thing that I am going to be catching up on is my use of drugs. I’m not talking about street drugs or anything like that, I mean school’s out so where would I get those kinds now. I’m just talking about regular shit. Like the other day my back was hurting so I took a muscle relaxer thinking it would help. Well, it didn’t so much help my back but it did give me some fucked up dreams about me running from wild animals in Botswana. I’m not sure how I know it was Botswana because I have never been to Botswana, but I did. That’s a kind of fucked up dream that can only come from some sort of legal chemical reaction. This is an experience that I feel must be repeated several times over the next couple months.

Also I plan to do a lot of catch up on my television consumption. I mean if there is one constant in life it is that anytime you turn on the TV, there is going to be an episode of Law and Order on somewhere. And if you are really lucky it’s going to be one of the ones with the sexually based offences. That’s everyone’s favorite even though they won’t admit it.

So this is what my summer is looking like. Cleaning, drugs, and Law and Order. It just shows that my life is in a good place.

This Does Not Bode Well

So help me out here. Have you ever woken up after a really hard sleep when you really didn't want to get up and dragged yourself to the bathroom so that you can stand under the shower until you are conscious enough to actually face the day of hellacious children only to take off your shirt to find this really big brown growth on your stomach which makes you start freaking the holy fuck out thinking you possibly are dying or being eaten alive by some kind of Grey's Anatomy-esqe parasite only to have the growth fall to the floor which makes you realize that it wasn’t a growth at all and you just slept on a penny and it got stuck to you? Then you see how my day started. That didn’t leave me with a whole lot of hope for the rest of the day.