For My Own Entertainment

Today I learned that eating store brand wheat frozen waffles with cream cheese does not make a wholesome breakfast (shut up its tasty).  What it means is around noon I will consider gnawing on my desk in favor of finding out if particle board contains more than just fiber.  Instead I went to Wendys, which for whatever reason insists on putting my salad in a different bag than the rest of my food so I look like a chronic binge eater when I walk back into the office. 

I rushed back to my office from Wendys in time for an “interview” of sorts which I completed with one of my many managers.  The interview was based on a “strengths test” I took a few weeks ago.  My strengths are:

Input:

Communication:

Woo:

Strategic:

Learner:

Basically what I think this means is that I’m a raging sociopath and will eventually eat my own young. . .either that or I just like talking and making sh*t up for my own entertainment all while selling you on my methods.  Take your pick on that one 🙂

Retail and Health Care Employees Unite!

One of my friends, who shall remain nameless to protect the innocent (not that a few of you can’t figure it out anyways), recently had to make a few purchases at Target.  The kind of purchases you really don’t want to discuss, and when it comes to the check out line you just hope that the cashier is a deaf blind mute.  This friend of mine was purchasing the following:  condoms, monostat, abreva, and an assortment of feminine hygiene products.  

She texted me from the store saying she was embaressed but at least she was purchasing everything in a ghetto area where no one would recognize her and point and laugh.   As she’s paying for her items the cashier goes “would you like to use your Target Gift Cards for this purchase?” And all my friend could think was “why yes let me whip out the card I got from my grandmother, she’d be pleased to know that I not only have a cold sore, and dealing with PMS, but I’m also planning on getting some ass this weekend”  

And no “friend” is not a code name for “me”.  I had my own experience with the retail community at one of our local Rite Aids when I was asked if I was pregnant in front of a bus load of senior citizens picking up their monthly hoard of medications.  I was asked no less than five times on Tuesday if I was pregnant, planning on being pregnant, or could possibly be pregnant all because I finally got some damn antibiotics for this ongoing mucus fest/sinus problem.  Plus when they took a CT of my head/sinuses they had to ask again to make sure we didn’t cook a fetus with the radiation.  

I also contemplating telling them that I’ve been having a pesky “immaculate conception” problem but I didn’t want them to deny me the CT and refer to me to mental health and wellness.