So the sickness is almost gone. I have my voice again, although I sound more like a man than usual, I don't have a sore throat anymore, and most importantly, I'M STARTING TO TASTE BEER AGAIN! Not that I'm an alcoholic or anything.
So I'll just jump into things. First off, work. I'm aware that I have the shittiest job ever and that I should probably start to grow up and find a real job that doesn't involve retards (whether they're actually working with you or just shopping in the store) because you have to realize that Carver is a dump. But anyway, this man decides to ask me where the "Fiber One granola bars" are. This is an easy question for me, not because I've worked there since I was a junior in high school, but because they are simply with all the other goddamned granola bars. The fact that this man could not find granola bars is beyond me. Honestly, not to sound like a sexist lesbian, but I think that all men are as dumb as rocks.
So anyway, I lead him to the FIBER ONE granola bars, and then I point out where the FIBER ONE granola bars are. Then he says, "I don't think those are the ones," which perplexes me for obvious reasons. Then, this is what he says: "I think they say FIBER ONE right on them."
So now I'm thinking that this man is either A) a complete idiot or B) is yanking my chain. Then, I start to think that this man might be as retarded as I assumed (again, not a sexist lesbian) and is in fact, saying "501" granola bars. Which, of course, do not exist. This man was told by his wife (who is most definitely an intelligent lady) to buy fiber one granola bars, and this shitass heard "five oh one". My God,
IF I HAD A DOLLAR FOR EVERY BRAIN YOU DIDN'T HAVE, I'D HAVE ONE DOLLAR. Honestly! He was looking for a box of granola bars that had a label of "501"!
So of course, as I am pointing out all the different Fiber One granola bars to him (peanut butter, chocolate and mocha, caramel, etc etc) he is looking elsewhere. So of course, I apologize to him and walk away. I apologize that you are so goddamned retarded. I apologize for the fact that I had found what your wife was looking for, and you are going to go home to her and say that you couldn't find them when I actually pointed them out to you. She is NEVER going to send you grocery shopping AGAIN.
The funny thing is, this man reminded me of my dad in a grocery store.
Anyway. My mom told me that she saw a "squirrel funeral" the other day. She said that as she was driving to work, she saw a "newly dead squirrel" on the road (on that was JUST HIT it seemed) and as she was passing it, she saw about 4-5 squirrels on the side of the road, seeming to have a funeral for it. She even said that they were in a praying pose.
It's about this part in the story where I start to wonder if she has been doing some kind of drug. Which of course, is not possible, but it would certainly explain this weird "Alice in Wonderland" sort of dreamlike state. I mean, I've seen alive squirrels and I've seen dead squirrels, but I never created a backstory for them.
But I guess I can't really call people crazy because I've actually considered how cool it would be to have a tea party with all of my stuffed animals.
Anyway...if anybody knew what was good for them, they would listen to "Every Teardrop is a Waterfall" by Coldplay.
-Jenny
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