Irkdom

Yeesh, it’s boring around here. I can’t even think of anything to blog about this week.

Well, unless you want to hear about how I’m really irked (I love that word) with whoever bought items right out of my Etsy cart last night as I was in the process of checking out. It wasn’t just one item, either! It was three different items – all disappeared between the time I put ‘em in my cart and the time I checked out.

Now, I know the person on the other end of the transaction has no idea that they’re doing this, so it’s not their fault. I think Etsy ought to fix it, though. If something is in your shopping cart, it ought to be unavailable for anyone else to purchase unless and until you take it OUT of your cart. I mean, if I was in a store I wouldn’t go up to someone else’s cart and just take stuff out of it. So it shouldn’t happen in a virtual store, either.

Or maybe you want to hear about how I HATE the grocery store. I swear that my idea of hell is to be perpetually stuck at the grocery store. I cannot make a trip there without my blood pressure going through the roof. In fact, I predict that that is probably how I will die – by having a massive heart attack in the middle of the store.

Memo to Ralph’s headquarters: PLEASE STOP RE-ARRANGING THE STORE SO I CAN’T FIND ANYTHING!!! Oh, and by the way, geniuses, SLIMFAST DOES NOT BELONG ON THE SAME AISLE AS CONDOMS AND TOOTHPASTE!

Also, I don’t know how it is at other stores, but we have the SLLLLOOOWWESSSTTTT deli counter EVER! I can literally place my order, go do all the rest of my shopping, come back and it’s still not ready.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I must have, like, some HUGE order of stuff, right? Nope. ½ lb. of brown sugar ham and 1/2 lb. of maple turkey.

Really difficult.

DEFINITELY ought to take more than a half an hour to do it. No, really, go ahead. Take your time. I’ve got NOTHING BETTER TO DO THAN STAND HERE WATCHING MYSELF AGE while you wander aimlessly around picking lint out of your navel and asking me to repeat my order 17 times.

½ pound of ham.

½ pound of turkey.

It’s not like I’m asking you to cure cancer or invent space travel.

Oh, and as long as I’m pitching a virtual fit here on the blog can someone please explain to me why I, who am NOT technologically savvy AT ALL, am apparently the only person in my town who can use the self-checkout stations without screwing them up and taking forever to get through.

It’s REALLY not that difficult.

Slide your item.

Put it in a bag.

Repeat.

If you can tie your own shoes, you SHOULD be able to do this. But just in case you can’t figure it out, they have those 10 lanes OVER THERE ------- > just for people like you.

And then there’s the parking lot.

I cannot for the life of me understand why grown human beings get into that parking lot and suddenly begin to behave like rabid ferrets on double espresso playing bumper cars. I mean really – is it too much to ask to NOT barrel down the aisles at freeway speeds or to LOOK before you start to back out of a spot.

Apparently, it is.

It is also apparently too much to ask for people put their carts away and to not stroll blithely down the center of the parking lot aisle as if they haven’t a care in the world and can’t tell that there is a car RIGHT BEHIND THEM WITH A CRAZY LADY IN IT WHO IS ABOUT TO MOW THEM DOWN. Seriously, people, GET OUT OF MY WAY!

Whew. Okay, I don’t know about you but I feel MUCH better.

Generally, I try to be a pretty positive, happy person, but yanno, sometimes you just gotta let the inner bitch (as opposed to the inner sorority girl who is no good in these situations because she just makes snippy comments about people’s shoes) run free.

Maybe now that I’ve let all this out, I might be able to get back to the jewelry.

Have a great day…and if you see a crazy lady at the deli counter throwing hunks of cheese and salami at the workers…well, just wave and say “hi” to me.

KJ