I can't remember

The speakers blare whiskey in the jar by the pub runners...get your Irish on.

I thought I had something to write about. I had a thought at work and believed it would be something good to share...but I can't remember right now...

*five minutes go by*

oh well, I'll remember later. Probably at three in the morning.

The organic revolution

Comin' out the earphones: bulls on parade (live): rage against the machine [something new I'm adding to the posts...soak it up]

I can't help, at times, thinking about work when I'm not there. I had the day off today, and I kept thinking about stuff that I need to get done tomorrow and Friday before the weekend. There always seems to be issues. One after another, after another, after another. It really does drive me crazy at times, and the brunt of the blame always falls on me, as well as the other department managers. The issues are small and senseless at times, but not everyone gets it.

One thing that repeatedly is brought to my attention is prices. People coming up to me and asking why milk is this price, why organic stuff is so expensive, etc. etc. I just get sick of it. They look to me for the answers, but I got nothing. I don't make the prices people, get it through your heads. Do you go up and ask the cash attendant at the gas station why gas is over three dollars a gallon and then blame them for it being so high? Surely I hope not. If you do, check yourself.

Organic foods are becoming more prevalent in the stores these days. I don't quite get it. Buy one package of chicken breasts and pay ten or eleven dollars OR buy another, non-organic package and pay five fifty or six dollars. Same thing with organic milk. Half a gallon of organic milk can run about five dollars, ordinary non-organic (which will kill you because its not organic!) is two or three dollars cheaper. So why the big deal? Does organic food taste better? Will it reverse the damage alcohol has done to my liver and kidneys? Does it cure diseases? Will you be smarter...or more paranoid about your food?

Or, is it a gadget of the government and farmers (that may be a stretch)? Think about it. You don't know if that organic hamburger you buy is actually organic. Did the cow eat just grass and drink water that didn't have any additives? If it did, could you tell? Is it all in your head? Do you sleep better at night knowing that the eggs you over paid for are organic? What prevents the companies from just slapping those lovely letters on the packaging and jacking up the prices.

I have had some organic foods, and I couldn't tell you the difference between that and non-organic. I just don't see the point in over paying for food that will taste the same (or perhaps worse) after it is prepared.

Just face it, food serves one purpose: to give us energy to function throughout our lives. In the end, organic food may prolong your life, who knows. But I'm not about to start overpaying for food that, as far as I know, does jack shit for me.

hats off to my sister: Family trailblazer

For a while now, I've been thinking about getting a tattoo (one of those things that gets in your mind and never really leaves, I guess). I told my parents that while they were down here last time and the reaction wasn't exactly what I expected. Dad just rolled his eyes, like he does, and mom just said something along the lines of 'you kids...' I have my sister to thank for that.
The fact that she is seven years older than I am has allowed me to skate through some things without repercussions from the parents. She has several tattoos, and my parents have come to the realization that they can't say anything really about it. She drank way before she could legally, allowing me to come home warm and fuzzy with Superior Lager in my system from Canada without a second thought. Just as long as you guys have a driver was the usual quip as we went across the river.

And now, she is about to have her third kid. Everyone is exicted, especially me because A and I won't get harassed about having kids some time soon...or ever for that matter. :o)

drinking revelation

As I sit in front of this computer on Saint Patrick's Day (drinking a stout, of course because green beer is only for people who have vaginas) I realize I am an adult. Why? Because I have a full time job (partly)? But mostly because I have no desire to go out and drink tonight. There are a few reasons for it:

1.)There are no good pubs here in Wichita. Downtown is just littered with the typical bars that are by now populated by the frat boys and sorority skanks that make me not want to go out. There are two places that have a traditional 'pub feeling' to them. The smoke lingers from years past and only the locals go there, and they are sitting at the bar by one o'clock in the afternoon. One place is the Shamrock. One of the smokiest bars I've ever really been to, which is saying a lot. and the other is the Artichoke. Both of them have that great pub feeling. Very small, very dark. The bar staffs at both of those places are top notch. Everyone knows the type: the late thirty/early forty year old woman who could throw you out by herself. And also the owner who is hanging out at the corner of the bar drinking with everyone else. But both of them get very populated today, which I'm not a huge fan of. The other reason I don't frequent them is that A doesn't like all the smoke, and rightfully so. Wichita is looking to pass some smoke free laws here pretty soon. They are going to be mainly for non-bars right now: mostly restaurants. Which I understand. No one wants to bring their kids out for a dinner and have to deal with smoke. Hopefully it will gain momentum and a law will pass where bars will be smoke free. I would like that.

2.)I have no desire to go to a bar that isn't playing Irish music today. And with college kids out, they just want to get shit faced and grind on each other. Not how I roll. I want there to be music I can sing and clap to. Or music that is there just for background while a conversation takes place. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy drinking heavily from time to time after a bad day or two at work. But to drink that much just because isn't the right reason (but is there a right reason?). If you celebrate Erin's Isle and her patron saint (who died today in the 400s [and that is why we celebrate St. Patricks Day, if you didn't know]) there has to be Irish music. I don't care if it is live (which is better) or off a CD...it's a must.

Death of the radio: 2002

Not many people are aware, but the radio died in 2002. For me at least, and it should be for everyone else. Some may make the argument that it died the second the first britney spears/nsync/backstreet boys (you get the picture) song hit the airwaves, but there were other radio stations. The 'cool' ones that played throughout colleges across the country. The ones who weren't afraid to play Rage unedited at three in the morning. The independent radio stations that didn't have a selected play list, they just play what they felt like. The radio stations you tuned into your parents cars while you were driving only to find them changed back the next time you drove. The stations parents didn't want you to listen to. Back when alternative meant Beck (and Bush to some extent) not Maroon Five.

Maroon Five...the band that killed the radio...for me. I was in college when Songs About Jane came out. The songs were catchy, but still felt a bit outside the box. The songs then started to sound the same after they released a few of them. *Ironic moment: Maroon Five just came on the ipod...awkward* I remember walking across campus one day not too long after 'This Love' was released and it was everywhere. On the radio, now Mt. Pleasant didn't have too many modern music stations, so it was flooded with the songs that were popular at that moment. To that extent it was on VH1 and mtv. Yes, back when those channels played music videos.

Anyway, as I was walking across campus I stopped at a road and up pulled this sorority girl in her parents (allegedly) little sports car with her windows rolled down and stereo blaring. Blaring Maroon Five on the local pop radio station. She was getting all into it singing, head bobbing, and even moving her hand all around in that uncomfortable, you know you can't dance so while you're in the car you're gonna 'dance' using your hands. Most people will just play the air drums or tap on the steering wheel, but she wasn't most people.

The radio died that day. It was a sunny spring day on Central Michigan's campus. There was a slight breeze in the air, the kind of air that makes you want the weather to stay in the fifties all year just so you can enjoy it. As that sorority brat drove away in the car too expensive for any college kid to afford, she unknowingly drove the radio's hearse.

drained.

I am now starting to feel the effects (affects?) of working two departments by myself in the mornings. It is getting harder and harder to get up at five and easier and easier going to be before ten.

I have trouble finding the excitement in going to work at six. The only nice thing is that the day ends before three in the afternoon. But I manage. I still love my job, I just want someone to work with me that'll be productive.

conversations and monologues

Anyone who really knows me knows that I enjoy to write a little bit. I took a couple of classes in college, but it was just to have a mental release I guess. So I started keeping bits and pieces of writings in a notebook I entitled 'Conversations and Monologues'. Not real conversations, just things that pop into my head. I thought that I may share them periodically just to have something different on this. To take away from the monotony of my complaining about work and other people. Sometimes, I'll wake up at one in the morning with these thoughts racing through my head and have a need to write them down. These aren't the things that will take long to write, or even to read. They are just there, I guess.

Monologue one:
Beep. Beep. Beep. Be...
Silence
Groggy awakening postponed for nine minutes. Then eighteen. Then twenty-seven. Then...SHIT!
Late again.
The covers fly off.
Rushing to dress.
Hoping time slows to catch up, but you know it won't. No breakfast, no shower, no clean teeth.
They feel fuzzy from cigarettes and beer.
----
Conversation one:
'I love the sound of rain. On the windows, car roofs, tent canvas. It's so...zen.'
'Do you know what zen is?'
'Does it matter?'
'If you find someone who cares about it, yes. It could, in fact, matter.'
'Do you care about it?'
'Not necessarily.'
'Then what's the problem?'
'I was just saying. You generalized. Generalizations can be bad. That's all.'
'Right.'

Sweats...not just for sleeping or working out any more.

At what point did it become okay to wear pajamas outside of the house? I see people wear sweat pants and sweat suits into the store all the time. It just isn't college kids either (that'll be subject in just a bit), but its the forty and fifty year olds too. Did I miss the memo where it was stated that it was 'cool' to look lazy and unkempt. I don't see these people in their sweat suits and think 'wow, they must feel comfortable, and god they are so cool and trendy'. I think 'they must have spent more time on their hair and whore-like makeup than the time they took to get dressed'. Why? How much work is it to put on a pair of jeans? I just don't get it. I understand wearing sweats around the house. No one sees you at any point. If you are expecting company, you'll put on normal pants and shirt, etc. But A brought up a good point...college.

Many people I see walking in and out of the store, and the main culprits, are college age people. Either too lazy or too hung over to give a shit. No one notices in the class room, in fact a good portion are probably wearing the same kind of clothes. But dude, out in public, people notice. Looking like a bum...not good.

It is just above my head I guess. I don't have a tendency to wear my pjs until I get ready for bed, but some people are just wired for lazing around the house in theirs....and thats cool, whatever turns your crank. But it just isn't for me. I have a need to wear jeans during the day, for whatever reason. I still haven't figured it out.

The cold is in your mind

At work today, I was approached by this rather bitchy person complaining about the store being cold. 'This building is cold. Everyone is cold.' I was fine, the temperature didn't bother me. Nonetheless, my response:

'Okay.'

What the hell. First off, you are standing in the freezer aisle. Yes, its going to be cold. Second, fuck off. I don't look remotely like someone in charge of anything really. In actuality, we have a huge thermostat in the back room to control the temperature of the building. Yup, we just want you to be miserable. You don't look miserable enough, what with your too tight jeans and your leathery skin from too much tanning. Go bitch to your yuppie husband, I don't want you in my store anyways. We want you to be cold.

In my next life, I want to control the weather and make it cold everywhere. Just because.