Today was a perfect example of that ferocity. 

I’m walking around Publix (something else I would put on a very short list of my favorite things about this here god’s country- “but a grocery store on your favorite things list? How preposterous!” you might say. And I’d say you are wrong because Publix is one of the best grocery stores in the entire world so shove it.), wearing as I often do, an Alabama tshirt.

As I crossed the threshold of the produce department, an older woman turns to me and says “Roll Tide.”
Because my mother raised me with manners, and some of them stuck, I of course replied with a “Roll Tide” of my own. 
This took place around the cut fruit section. A woman, of an advanced age herself, standing near the apples hears our exchange and within seconds bounds over to us with an energy that belies her years.

“WAR EAGLE”, she exclaimed in a very loud and boisterous manner. “WAR DAMN EAGLE!”

Of course not to be outdone, the original, and frankly, more beautiful and just overall more delightful woman, raises her voice with a hearty “ROLL TIDE ROLL!!!”

It was then things got a little weird. Here’s the deal- little old southern ladies, they stereotypically have this air about them. That they are just about as proper as can be, not a hair out of place, not an single stray pineapple chunk in their jello mold. So when you see one of those tiny little old southern women gather up all her might and bellow out “ROUND THE BOWL AND DOWN THE HOLE- ROLL TIDE ROLL” it’s a little shocking. Shocking to the point that neither the well dressed, well composed, pulchritudinous woman nor I could formulate a response to her beyond, “We’ve won more championships you know so stick that in the bowl and smoke it.”

And with that statement, the older Alabama fan walked away, ready to thump some watermelons.

I won’t want to go if you ask.

I won’t want to go if your wife asks.

I won’t want to go no matter who asks.

I don’t want to be your “plus one”.

I don’t want to be your wife’s “plus one”.

I don’t want to “grab a bite” with you.

I don’t want to “grab a bite” with your wife.

I’m hoping you are sensing a theme here.

You, me, food…. not happening.

So for the love of all that is holy, stop fucking emailing me.

Sincerely, 
Me.

That is all.

Of course thinking that perhaps something was wrong, I told him to wait a minute.

Then he says “THE DUCKS ARE IN OUR DRIVEWAY!”

That got my attention so I ran like a madwoman outside, grabbing my camera as I flew out the house.

Seriously, how cute are these guys?

I’m guessing they’d come over from the pond across the street. All I know is it made my morning.

And if the post title didn’t get a Raffi song stuck in your head, here you go.

Ginger-

“Here I come!!!”

Bronco-

“Wait, what did you just say? Did you say what I think you said? Did it start with a ‘t’?”

Ninja-

“How’s about you bring the treat to me, okay? I’ve got bigger things to occupy my time than to do a little pointless dance just for your amusement and the possibility of a dry mildly meat flavored nugget.”

So, what is Workless Wednesday’s you might ask? Well, simply, it’s where I’ll post about jobs that I have applied for in my many years of unemployment and have been denied; oh and one where I’m pretty sure I delivered drugs. With some the denial was a bit harsher than others and some, let’s be honest, I had no business applying for in the first place.

I’ve never been one for saving the best for last so let’s start off with a bang.

In a particularly low moment, I opened the paper and found what seemed like a great employment opportunity. I would be outside, with other people, in one of the greatest places on earth, could stretch the situation and call myself a member of a great baseball team’s “organization”. Really the only downside to this job was, really, the job itself.

But I applied anyway. I needed a job. I needed an income. Wishes and hopes don’t buy toilet paper, or pay the water bill and without those two things, life sort of sucks.

Waited to hear back. Waited and waited and waited. Finally after a week or two of waiting, I gave the contact number a call. Introduced myself, said I was calling to check that they had received my application with resume attached and they said they had indeed received it. Of course at this point I was so desperate for gainful employment (let’s hearken back to the toilet paper) that what little adherence to etiquette I’d had before had pretty much disappeared so I figured while I had the guy on the phone I’d just go ahead and ask him what he thought my chances of actually getting the job were.

“Well I have to say, I don’t think we’ve ever had anyone include a resume when applying for this job before.”

“Oh no? Well I’m in a bit of a groove with applying for jobs so I probably just included it out of habit. So listen, thanks for considering me and I look forward to hearing from you soon.”
(I went ahead and used a period at the end of that sentence but in reality there was a definite lift at the end of soon that pretty much meant “for the love of god will you please give me at least a little hope, even if it is completely false?”)

The poor guy let out a long sigh and in the most apologetic voice said, “See here’s the thing, I really don’t think you are qualified for the job. That’s to say, I don’t know that you would really find fulfillment in the job. I’m sure there is another job out there that you are much more suited for than this one.”

I choked back my tears and heartache, all while quickly trying to calculate how much toilet paper I had left for the rest of the month and managed to eek out a “Oh, okay. Thanks so much. You’re right. Maybe scraping bird poop isn’t the best job for me right now.”

That’s right folks, the job was SCRAPING BIRD SHIT FROM SEATS!!!!

I applied for a job to scrap the copious amounts of bird shit from the seats and railings and basically every surface of a baseball stadium.

And I didn’t get the job.

Who knows what my life would look like now had I gotten that job? I think enough time has passed that I could conceivably be the head shit scraper. I could be entrenched in shit scraping middle management. Waking up every morning ready to face another day of shit.

But instead I sit here and write shit about my mail and jobs I didn’t get.

Apparently I’m qualified for that job.

I think we can all agree, this is not one of them.

A s I sit here enjoying a meal of dry Special K and kicking the teenage ass of the Jeopardy players I thought it’s about time I changed that.

Then I got the final Jeopardy question wrong and said fuck it, I’m going to tell everyone what I got in the mail today instead.

Let’s do this.

First off we’ve got a lovely notice from the home warranty place letting me know that the credit card I’ve got on file is no longer valid. Which means only one thing; Jessica Owens of Kalamazoo, Washington finally wised up. Serves her right for leaving her credit card in the parking lot of a northern Kentucky gas station.

Next up is something quite juicy if I say so myself. That’s right folks, Grand Canyon Trust has learned of my great love of the Grand Canyon. They are so impressed with my endless dedication, loyalty, and faithfullness (this sentence has been brought to you by dictionary.com) that they extended me an incredible opportunity to give them money. The rest of the letter involves something about noisy helicopters and enterprising resort building Native Americans. Call me crazy but I’m not too keen on denying Native Americans anything involving land so I’m going to have to go ahead and pass on this idea. Sorry Grand Canyon, enjoy the casino. Word of advice, always bet on black.

This brings us to the pinnacle of today’s mail. A collection of paper bound with staples  that I know every postal worker that touches it in it’s glossy glory can’t help but take a moment and enjoy bounties.

That’s right friends, it’s the Camping World 8th Annual Grillfest catalog. Did you hear me? It’s Grillfest time!!

Let’s crack open this bad boy. Oooohhh, Camping World decides to go big or go home and opens the Grillfest catalog with one of the biggest names in grilling, the Colemans. They all look so sleek with their red aluminum lids and their plastic wheels. Someone get me a fan!

It’s difficult to eat without a table so of course Camping World offers a NEW! 4-IN-1 table. So sexy. Move over Victoria’s Secret models, there’s a new game in town.
Everyone knows that Memorial Day= barbecue so it only seems right that we turn a couple pages and find everything for all your Memorial Day decorating needs. We’ve got stars and stripes windsocks, and tableclothes,  and awning rope lights (oh yea baby), and what’s that? Oh my how exciting! It’s a patriotic bag chair. You can plop your ass down and show your pride in our fine nation at the same time. God Bless America.

As I flip through this goodie bag I come across words that are always good news- BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND! What is this product that campers worldwide have been clamoring for? That’s right it’s Odorlos Holding Tank Treatments!!!!!! It is environmentally safe, contains no formaldehyde, and speeds up the natural composting process by preventing hydrogen sulfide gases. It’s like I always say, nothing ruins a party faster than hydrogen sulfide gases. Thank you Odorlos Holding Tank Treatments, I am so glad you are back.

Our review of my mail is almost over but before I wrap up I want to draw attention to an item that I hold dear to my heart. That item, friends, would be the deluxe pet basket. I can not tell you how many times I was riding my bike around town and thought, damnit if I could just find a way to let Bronco ride along with me by sitting precariously in a basket on my handlebars. If only, oh to dream. And then my dreams were answered. I can’t tell you what it has done for the dog/owner relationship, especially when I went ahead and also purchased the Deluxe Love Glove. Nothing says you care about your pet than gently caressing them with the love glove, working out the days troubles, whisking away all the burrs and dirt. I’m getting a little misty eyed here, excuse me.

I’m so glad you could all join me in this adventure. Stay tuned next week when I will take out the trash! Until then, happy days and love gloves all around.

Then one day she realized the bag of chocolate chips was empty.

The oatmeal container wasn’t even opened yet.

And they all lived happily ever after.

The End.

You were serving lunch, I was eating lunch. It was very cramped, you had to work your way through tables that were very close together… no?

Maybe a picture of my cheek will jog your memory?

Granted this was taken in the sunshine and not in the ballroom of Kennedy Union, but I think it would help just the same.

That cheek and a certain cheek of yours became quite acquainted, if you know what I mean.
Here’s the problem- although my husband often annoys the piss out of me, I do love him. I’m pretty sure I saw a ring on your finger as well and as fabulous as our moments in that crowded ballroom over that delightful lunch of cold chicken and salad were, I sadly don’t see a future for us. There, there Robert… I’m sure there’s another cheek out there for you to love.

Please realize that while I had many great experiences at the workshop- the talks, the sessions, the friends I’d only met hours beforehand but felt like I’d known for years, the inspiration, all of it… none of it will compare to the time we spent together.

We’ll always have lunch, Robert. :tear: We’ll always have lunch.

Sincerely,

Me (the woman sitting by the door on the far left, no, left if you are facing the doors, I guess it would be far right if you are facing the front, seriously you don’t remember me? I’m beginning to feel a bit like a cheap floozie here Robert, like our time together meant nothing to you. Did it mean nothing to you Robert? DID IT?!?!?! Answer me!!!! I need to know!!!! ROBERT!!!!!)

Unfortunately today’s is not.

I had noticed that last couple of days that the search for Megan Tysinger was bringing a lot of traffic. Megan is someone who has commented on my blog a few times, and because she used her full name, google searches have led here.

Because of this uptick in searches for her name, I got curious and went searching myself.

It turns out that Megan was either killed or committed suicide (from what I can gather, the official cause of death is suicide but there are many very vocal people who suggest that it perhaps was not and that the police have not done a good job investigating. Let it be known- I have absolutely no idea what happened, don’t know Megan or her ex-husband, don’t know any of her family members, don’t know any of the police; I’m just leaving it as either/or.) on the 23rd of April.

It is always sad when someone dies in a violent manner, either suicide or not. Always sad that a situation can devolve into such despairs that someone can see no way out but death.

I, sadly, know of this situation all too well and wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy.

My thoughts go out to Megan’s family; including her two daughters. May they find peace in this awful time.