Archive for the ‘ I Hate Me ’ Category

I Hate Me, part 497,451

 

We have an old tree on the side of the driveway, the branches hang over the car. I’m not sure what kind of tree it is, I refer to it as a Shitberry tree. Although I never see any birds on it whatever part of the car is parked under it is covered in industrial strength bird shit and pine(?) needles. I usually don’t notice how bad it is until I get where I’m going, then it’s windex, paper towels and a strong resolve. Unless I’m lazy, which is often, then I just look at it, droop my shoulders and shuffle off to whatever task I’m on. This latest task was Foodtown. I went in, got the few items I had to get and headed to the checkout. There was only two open, one was the normal and one was 20 items or less. There was a woman who was in the 20 items or less that had a huge amount of stuff, well over 20 items. All of it seemed to be fruits, vegetables or bulk food. So there were just little bags and little bags and little bags of items that all had to be identified and weighed. The regular checkout had a long line of people who seemed to be stocking up for the apocalypse. I stood there ruminating on the life choices that had brought me to this spot when an outraged little old lady, who looked like Nancy Reagan with an even bigger head pointed at the woman who had more than 20 items, and shrieked in a surprisingly loud voice “look at her! She can’t count!” to no one in particular. it looked like something that the aliens in Invasion of The Body Snatchers would do. The woman who was working the courtesy desk took pity on me and rang me up. She looked at what what was going on shook her head and said “Must be a full moon.”

"look at her! She can't count!"

“look at her! She can’t count!”

I Hate Me, part 446,186

It was a slow day at work until about fifteen minutes before Matt left for the day. It seemed like the bus from crazytown (not the band) made an unscheduled stop, which it often does. A woman was asking for a ton of different cd’s, most of it was late 90’s metal and soul. She was asking for them in half song titles and misheard lyrics but no band names. I would show her a section she was looking for and before I could turn around, she would be asking another question from a different part of the store. It had the vibe of one of those Japanese horror movies where there are people who crawl out of TV sets, swivel their heads and crawl on the wall. While this was going on another guy was asking if I was going to see Steely Dan at the Count Basie, I wasn’t. He wasn’t either but…”Yeah, I paid $50 to see Andrew Dice Clay there and it was great, he still got it…about 100 women walked out…yeah he still got it. He did new stuff but he didn’t do any nursery rhymes…so when he was done, I ran up front and yelled NURSERY RHYMES, MOTHERFUCKER! and he turned around, looked at me and he did all the nursery rhymes…yeah, he’s like Bob Dylan…nobody wants to hear your new shit, dude. They wanna hear the old stuff…the stuff that made you great.” The 90’s metal/soul woman was there for another hour but bought a few cd’s.

he's like Bob Dylan

he’s like Bob Dylan

I Hate Me, part 461,990

[upon reading this, it's pretty goddamned slight]

I had to go to the A&P to pick up dog food that I had forgotten to get when I went to Foodtown earlier in the day, I just couldn’t take going back to Foodtown. As I have have written in the past, this A&P has slow doors and at night they lock one entrance. When I got there both entrances were open which was a minor victory. Our dog Lucy (aka: Ma Barker or Lil’ Shitpaw) eats Mighty Dog but there is one style that turns her into a tiny shit cannon. I always forget what kind; Sea Bass with Lime Cilantro, Sirloin Mango Chutney, or Umami Chicken Stew. So I called Carrie on her cel to find out which one was on the no fly list. Went right to message, this usually turns into a tennis match of unanswered returned phone calls. I figured I’d get one of each and the wrong one we could give to somebody who has a dog that likes to shit a lot. I got a call back from Carrie, terrible connection, too much hang time, talking over each other. Before we both hung up in disgust I made out one word, blueberries. So I got the blueberries and headed to the check out. It was late so the only guy working the register was also stocking the shelves, so they want you to use the self checkout. I didn’t have my savings card and there was like 15cents off of each can of dogfood, so I had to get the guy, who was not happy. He rung me up, I saved my 90 cents. Unbeknownst to me the entrance I had used earlier had been locked. I didn’t know this and even walking slowly (compensating for the slow door), I still hit it with a thud. The register guy just looked at me and said “yeah, that’s locked”. Touche, register guy, touche.

avoid the Sea Bass and Lime Cilantro

avoid the Sea Bass and Lime Cilantro

I Hate Me, part 472,914

One of the many problems of being a middle aged man who works at a record store that you don’t own is that you get mistaken as the owner. This usually happens by the tire kickers who come in on friday nights while they’re waiting for a table to open up at a local restaurant. They’re not buying anything, they just want to look. Which is fine, a lot of the time I get a variation of,
“This is a great store, I hear records are making a comeback …you must be Jack”, (because why else would a middle aged man be working at a record store). “Thank you but I’m not Jack, I just work here” Most of the time I get a pitying look that seems to say “mmm I understand, times are tough…I’m sure things will pick up”. I respond to the pitying look with a wan smile and the transaction is over.
Last week a guy came in who was easily in his mid sixties and was looking through used records. I was on the other side of the counter pricing a large stack of them.
“I’ve been coming here since I was a kid” to nobody in particular
“….yeah, a long time…”
“Well Jacks has been here for over forty years.”
“…..you’re Jack, right?”
“How could I be Jack? I’m younger than you…I didn’t open the store when I was a child.”
“yeah, but I thought…”
“yeah?….thought what?…a…a time machine was involved?”
I stopped, bit my tongue a little too late, melted into the back room, slunk out another door and got a coffee.

the only way a 52 year old man could open up a record store 42 years ago

the only way a 52 year old man could open up a record store 42 years ago

I Hate Me, part 415,015

I went to Starbucks and there was this giant biker in front of me.
The girl behind the counter was a new employee.
Biker- I wanna plain ice tea
Girl-Do you want sweetener?
The way she said “sweetener” sounded like “Swedener”, perhaps an additive to make the drink more Sweden like.
Biker-Wut?!
Girl-Do you want SWEDENER?
Biker-…Huh?..What are you asking me?
Girl-…Do YOU want any SWEDENER in your ice tea?
Biker-…I have no idea what your asking me…Swede what?
Girl-…Sugar…do you want any sugar in your ice tea?
Biker-No…No I said plain.
I was listening but looking off into space so it looked like I was oblivious and not paying attention. (although to be honest it often looks like I’m oblivious) What I should have been doing was staring intently at my phone. I thought of this just as the biker looked over at me, I couldn’t read his look. It was either “these people are idiots, am I right?” or “are you fucking looking/laughing at me?” This is when I started to look at my phone in a completely fake “I’m not getting a call, I’m avoiding life” type of way. Before this could go any further (ie: me acknowledging his look) his iced tea was delivered, I then ordered my iced coffee with swedener.
starbucks-3-0_1x

I Hate Me, part 499,103

I live in the house that my wife grew up in. There are a few heirlooms that a museum style protection is given to. Highest on that list is “the jelly closet”, a large cabinet in the dining room that is full of family treasures. No drinks will ever sit on it, even with a coaster. There is also an old red stool in the kitchen that I thought was on the heirloom list as well. I even imagined a back story where Carrie’s dad brought it back with him from the war, a souvenir liberated from Hitler’s bunker. This goddamned stool is always in my way. I’ve bumped into it and tripped over it’s legs more times than I care to mention. I had grown to hate this thing, it sits there stoic like some zen master only to move right behind me when I’m not looking. I had gingerly mentioned to Carrie my hatred for the stool and how I had to defer to it because of the family history attached to it. She gave me a kind patronizing look that one would give to slow people and explained that she bought the stool years ago and that I even helped her move it to this house, to the best of her knowledge neither of her parents were ever aware of the stool and she was a little worried that I had such hatred for an inanimate object. I heard these things but in my mind I heard “Alright stool, you’re not protected. It’s on!”. The next morning as I was getting my coffee, I turned around and bumped into the stool. I lashed out with a feeble kick, really hurting my big toe but I knocked over the stool. Victory. The victory was short lived as the falling hated stool knocked over another stool that I was fairly ambivalent about which had a small stack of records and cd’s on it, these went flying all over the kitchen table knocking over pretty much everything. “hey asshole, pick me up” It was the red stool, I had entered into my own private Twilight Zone. Not really, I just cleaned everything up and felt like an idiot.

my nemesis

my nemesis

I Hate Me, part 491,922

Went to Foodtown the other night for some supplies, which included apples. Their apples were terrible, like red balloons full of mush. So I headed over to Whole Foods, Bought the stuff I needed, (the Pink Lady apples were pretty good) and headed to the checkout. There was one woman ahead of me, the checkout conveyer wasn’t full of food so I figured it wouldn’t be long and I plopped my groceries down. I ran into my brother-in-law there, he was in the next checkout line and we were shooting the shit about comic books and other world altering stuff. His line which had many people on it was moving quickly and I realized that mine hadn’t moved at all. I looked and there was the same amount of groceries from the woman in front still on the conveyer. I didn’t know what was going on until I saw the woman still had a full cart of food but was deciding on each piece of food before she put it on the conveyer. She was adding another step to the drudgery of shopping. Instead of what most people do which would be “Hey, I want 6 apples. These look good.”, she had bags of produce and then was thinning the herd at the counter. “I only want these three tomatoes, I don’t want the other two”, “mmmmm Yeah I don’t want this celery….wait wait…I take that back but I don’t want this one.” This went on for a long time, Dave had finished checking out and came over, we were exchanging some “WTF” looks, I’d never seen anything like it. Finally somebody came over from customer service and offered to ring me up at the customer service desk, and the long national nightmare was over.”

Whenever I see Pink Lady apples, I'm reminded of an 1980's variety show called Pink Lady & Jeff. I don't really remember the show but I remember the title was used as a punch line by some late night TV hosts

Whenever I see Pink Lady apples, I’m reminded of an 1980’s variety show called Pink Lady & Jeff. I don’t really remember the show but I remember the title was used as a punch line by some late night TV hosts

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