Pitch a Fit

How to lose a customer 101

So I am in a town of 5,000 people, visiting for a week on vacation. I love this place and I would love to move here but for years the locals have been telling my husband and I it is very difficult to make a living in this town. There are not many jobs, most people try to open a business but then have to close down. It is very tough to make it here they say. I wanted to open a bakery, sounded like a good business venture. I was told though other bakeries have never sustained. Currently there is one bakery in town, the other two had to shut down due to poor business. I stop in on Monday to buy some bread. The entire display counter is empty. I ask, "Do you have bread in the back?". The guy answers with an attitude, "No we don't bake on Mondays." Mind you this is a bakery and they are open for business but I am supposed to completely understand the no-bake Monday theory. Alrighty then. How about Tuesday? NO they are closed on Tuesday!! So Wednesday morning I get up bright and early and head to the bakery. I walk in, again the display counter is completely empty!! Ya gotta be shittin me. I ask, "do you have any bread in the back?" The lady at the counter says, "No it won't be ready until 11am". I laugh and head towards the door. She yells out, 'Hey we have some bagels!" I don't even turn around. Seriously folks, it cannot be that hard to make it here if you follow one simple rule...run a fucking business. Be open and for God's sake have product to sell when you are open! Wow.

Pay UP!

Why is it that there are some people who go through the motion of driving to the store, walking into the store, obtaining a shopping cart, choose several items, make their way mysteriously to the register and then act surprised when it is time to pay up? Like, are they surprised that they really have to pay for the stuff or were they merely sleep walking and just happen to wake up right at point of sale. "Who am I? Where am I? What? I need to pay for what?" Shit. I manage to ALWAYS get behind those people in line too!! WTF. So seriously, the other day I am leaving for work and just need to pick up some Qtips and cotton pads (piercing, remember?). I grab my stuff and jump in line, only one person in front of me so I figure this will be a quick minute before I am in my car and on my way home. First of all this lady in front of me acted as if she had no idea she was in line to pay or even that she had bought stuff at all. She stood there, slack jaw, staring at the cashier as the cashier stated, "$24.97". I swear I could hear crickets, she didn't even have her wallet out or anything. Finally the brain cells mildly kicked in and she asked, "what did I buy?". She then proceeded to have the cashier take everything out of the bag and tell her the price of each individual item. Seriously folks, unless you are Paris Hilton...don't you add up your purchases as you go??? I mean I am pretty darn close with my mind tally when I see my total and already start sliding my cute blue ATM card through the machine. I really, really, really wanted to kick the bitch in the gut. I kinda hoped she would get run over by the car she nonchalantly stepped out in front of in the parking lot...no such luck!

33% of road, mind and money

I was thinking on the way home from work today...I know, it is dangerous to think and drive but hey it's hands free. Anyway, I am really irritated with the highway in Moreno Valley. I mean, there are three lanes...three. Except one of them is a carpool lane and I want to know what is up with that. First of all, we really don't need a carpool lane on that stretch of the freeway. Even non-locals know that any car with more than one person in it is really a gang on their way to a heist or a killing or what ever it is they do. Secondly who in their right mind made a decision to make 33% of any freeway carpool? Seriously...anyone...anyone? Right. So I started thinking. This stretch of the freeway is extremely crowded and this decision didn't seem to make any sense. So I started to pay attention to the carpool lane and noticed there was no one actually in it. I had plenty of time to think while we were stopped on the freeway simply because the only other non-carpool lane is always blocked off due to off-ramp backup. As I creeped by the sign explaining the fine amount for violating carpool rules it hit me!! Money. Money, money, money, money. The only explanation is the crack head city planners...in cahoots with the county or state or whoever it is that receives funds from carpool violationssimply saw an opportunity to make money. Simple, brilliant! Create a situation where people are bound to loose their mind and take the carpool solo just to get past the glut!! Plant a couple of cops and cha-ching!! I really need to start giving the assholes in local government administration more credit.

Creepier than I....

Oh how I want to write about how certain I am that my nose piercing is infected....but I won't.

Creepy, I usually love anything that can be defined by using the word 'creepy'. However, I can define an experience using my favorite word WITHOUT considering it a good thing. You see, my commute to and from work includes a nice 17 mile drive, most of which takes me on a winding road through a canyon. Not any winding road but a 2 lane winding road...we are talkng no cell phone service, no businesses, just random ranch homes, wild animals and I'm sure due to the railroad, major creep potential. My least favorite thing when driving home from a late shift is to be stopped at the railroad crossing for a train. This scenario has got to be one of the most vulnerable situations I find myself in. I mean...the dark of night, no signs of life stirring (apparently canyon people go to bed early OR go into their basement to chop up people they kidnap while waiting at the railroad crossing), did I say it is dark? You get the idea. Here I am just waiting in my car and I cannot possibly see if anyone with an Ax is walking up to my window...it's too stinkin dark! I imagine the Jasons, the Freddies and the Hannibals of the night all licking their chops and making their way to my car. Let me tell you kiddos...I am so squealing tires and kicking up smoke as soon as those gates rise!  So tonight I pull up as a train (of course) comes barreling through at 11:00pm. I check my doors to make sure they are locked. They are. I turn on my brights and adjust my review mirror to check my range of vision behind the car. I check my door locks again. I damn the fact that there is not a full moon and check the door locks one more time. Suddenly I realize someone (or something) is shinning a light in my face and I scream bloody murder only to quickly realize another car has pulled up on the other side of the tracks and as an empty train car streams by it allows the light off of the other car to hit my glasses just so they reflect more light directly into my eyes. Shit. Thank God there were no creeps around to witness it, that would have been eembarrassing!

Il-luminescent Legs

Okay so you'll like this one...about 4 weeks ago my hubby and I hit the garden hard, getting it prepped for spring planting. It was warm outside that day and I was wearing shorts (all day). Around 3pm or so, I look over and see my husband squinting at me. "What?" I say, sure that there is some weird creepy-crawly bug on me. He says, "Are those your legs?". "WHAT?" I say... "Are those your legs?" he repeats. "I've been wearing shorts all day and you just noticed my legs?". "No" he says, "I thought you were wearing white tights with your shorts". WTF? He was serious not joking!!! I mean...how long has he been married to me? I guess the first exposure after a long winter should come with a warning and complimentary sunglasses!!!

Butt the truth

Not to beat a dead horse but as long as my sciatic nerve is torturing me, you all must pay. My left butt check hurts...it feels like it is on fire....I hate hate hate getting old and so wish I could say I sustained this injury through:

1) wild sex
2) being in a mosh pit
3) sneaking into the botanical gardens at UCR (not so random, it's happened before).
4) falling down drunk

p.s. None of these reasons as listed above apply, the cause is still unknown except I am pretty sure it is not due to the immanent nose piercing infection I-don't-have-but-am-sure-I-do-and-is-going-to-ultimately-lead-to-my premature-death.

Little white pills and yellow gatorade.

I hate going to the doctor. I will avoid going at all costs up to and including employing such irresponsible actions as, pretending I'm fine, buying Chinese herbs, meditating and possibly the most ineffective, using mind over matter techniques to "cure" myself. So much to my dismay I realized at some point last night when I couldn't even get in or out of my friend's truck without screaming in pain that I would need to pay my ole doc a visit today. I did try using the techniques listed above and honestly thought as I lay in bed last night that I would wake up completely cured. No such luck. Instead I awoke to the humiliation of not being able to get out of bed on my own. WTF. Pain shooting from my left butt cheek near the spine down my leg. Immediately I remembered my friend last night offering some of her vicodin left over from her back injury. I checked the time on my phone, 7am. She has an infant and I knew she'd be awake so I sent her a text, "Bring drugs ASAP!" My new BFF showed up with pills in hand and as she left, made some very strong eye contact, pointed her finger at me and said, "Go to the doctor or it will get worse". Seriously just sitting down on the toilet to pee was a major ordeal and I could not bare the thought of this pain getting worse. Without thinking I popped two pills and called the doctor for an appointment. AFTER doing so I started to panic, wondering how much trouble I could get in for taking someone elses prescription for a narcotic. Nice. Maybe I can play it off. No he's a doctor, he'll take one look at my eyes and know I'm on drugs. I'll be honest, he'll respect that, right???? So those of you who know me or have read my blog for any length of time know that once paranoia sets in, it just continues to snowball. I showered, dressed and laid down, thinking I could sleep off the drug. My appointment wasn't for another couple of hours. I fell asleep but was awaken by my mother, arriving 1 1/2 hours early to take me to my appointment. I sent her away but was wide awake and stewing in my thoughts which included such gems as: 

1) Do I have any clean underwear?

2) Am I better off lying to the doctor or telling him the truth?

3) Maybe he can check my nose too and confirm the infection I'm sure I have.

4) Maybe my nose infection has traveled to my brain and down my spine.

5) I think I might die today.

Fast forward to my appointment. In the end I decided to tell him the truth and blame it on delirium caused by pain and deal with the consequences. I brought the other two pills I had left with me because my friend mentioned as she handed them to me that they were indeed not vicodin but a substitute for vicodin and unfortunately I was going to have to tell my doctor that I really didn't even know what I took. Now I would appear to be a very stupid criminal / drug user. Whatever, I hurt enough not to care. The ride to the doctors was excruciating but luckily  was sent into a room right away and my doctor came in within minutes. I had realized I begun feeling nauseated sometime during the ride over so I kept sipping Gatorade to ward off the yaks. I got two sentences out, trying to describe what I was feeling to the doctor when I suddenly threw up yellow Gatorade. After cleaning myself up the doctor calmly asked, "what is this nausea from?" He's going to send me to jail. "I was desperate doc, desperate I tell you. My friend she had some pills, I took them. I'm sorry I know it was wrong but the pain...I think they are making me sick." My doctor calmly asked me what I took and only kinda smirked when I handed over the evidence and disclosed I had no idea. He proceeded with the exam, told me I had a pinched siatic nerve and muscle strain, prescribed vicodin and cortisone and sent me on my way. Yeah! No police. I shuffled out of his office telling my mom..."start the car, start the car!"

Like I need another hole in my head...

I am obsessed with a hole in my body. It is all I can think about, it is all I can to do to keep my hands off of it. I am finding myself inclined to touch it periodically and poke it with my finger. Okay sickos...not the hole you are probably thinking I might be talking about...the hole I'm referring to is the new piercing I have in my nose. Yes, people, 40 something year old me went out and pierced my pretty little nose. That was almost exactly 2 weeks ago and it is all I've been able to think about since then. This life experience has completely perplexed me. At first it seemed as if I had a small sparkly planet sticking out the side of my nose. I wore it like a trophy a statement of my revolt against 40 something, a rage against the machine, a "fuck you" to age in its purest punk form. Shortly after, things started to go bad and now I am consumed with random thoughts and fears revolving around this new little hole in my head:

1) I still haven't told my mom and I have to see her on Wednesday.

2) What if it gets infected?

3) The nose stud is too long and keeps poking me in the septum.

4) I wake myself up at least once a night as I try to rip it out of my nose in my sleep.

5) It itches.

6) It fell out last night and I couldn't get it back in for almost an hour, I think I made it infected trying to get it back in.

7) I am not supposed to touch it, for hygienic reasons, but cannot keep my dirty ass hands off of it.

8) I tried to ignore it but that only lasted an hour or two.

9) Its starting to turn red.

10) What if I get gangrene?

Then at the height of my paranoia...I run to the nearest mirror or stare into the back of my iPod to confirm the image of purple pussing volcano and I see.....a lovely little sparkle, I smile and the process starts all over again.

Evolution of the Mind

Greed and corruption have made us blind
Giving way to crackpot thinking or
Not thinking at all
Merely acting upon impulse alone
Startled by the results
Trying to justify by pointing blame
To anywhere but ourselves
A world full of victims of someone elses demise
"It's not my fault" never even brought to the lips
Never even ran through the mind, not ever a consideration
How can it be when surely someone elses actions or nonactions
Have created who we are and are responsibile for the action we take
A society of people who have forgotten a fundamental right,
A primitive skill
The ability to THINK,
The ability to take ACCOUNTABILITY
The abilty to make a choice to do the right thing.

Zombie Love

The ticking of the clock seemed to tease me, tease me in the manner in which dripping water on a water board teases. It was torture. Each moment the clock ticked by was another moment of waiting for the zombies to learn of my hiding place. I waited. At some point my heart seemed to pound in time with the ticking clock. My mind started playing tricks on me, I swear I could hear them breathing right outside my door. Moans muffled for the time being, straining to hear the pounding of my heart, verifying my existence then clawing their way in. During my time in the cramped quarters I imagined a thousand deaths, play by plays of how the zombies would relish the taste of my flesh in the same manner which I witnessed hundreds of others die screaming. I wondered if the others screamed because of the pain they experienced as their hearts were ripped out of their bodies. Or maybe they screamed because of the horror of the act itself. My plan was to wait them out, hoping another desperate soul would give them selves up, running from their hiding place when the terror of the unknown became too much. Part of me knew damn well that if I couldn't hear them, they simply were not there but my fear kept me frozen in place. My joints ached but the pain in my foot had become a dull numbness, I knew I would probably lose it. My right foot had fallen asleep days ago and I'm sure there had been no blood flow for some time now. A crazy and sick thought crossed my mind. I could amputate my foot and carry it around to use as a distractionary tool much like a burglar uses a steak to distract the family dog. Would it work I wondered? Worth a try, no other apparent use for it now. I could use it for food for myself if my survival depended on it but surely it would be gangrene and rotten by now. Would I be no better than they if I ate my own foot? Feasted upon my own flesh? Tears rolled down my face, I knew I would die if I stayed. I also knew I could die if I left but it would be a death of horror. In the distance I could hear a hum, tuning in I realized it was the collective hum of thousand groans. They found a victim. Now was my chance. Ignoring the excruciating pain of a million needles piercing my muscles, I opened the cupboard door and began to unfurl myself. How do they die? How do they die? I must learn if the zombies have a weakness or better yet, if they could be destroyed. I looked around the kitchen and found a push broom. Turning it upside down and wrapping a towel around the head I fashioned a makeshift crutch. I knew I had to be strategic if I were to survive, outrunning them in my condition was out of the question. Brushing the bugs away I ate some food still left on the counter, someone's order, still waiting to be taken out. Suddenly everything went blurry and I began to black out, I had eaten too fast, too soon. I turned and threw up. I decided to opt for a package of crackers for later and looked around for bottled water. I remembered I had brought my backpack with me when I came to the restaurant that day and cautiously went outside to find it....to be continued.....