Why do people tell me this shit?

I walk into the bathroom at the same time as my co-worker. She has a bunch of papers in her hands and says, "I'm bringing reading material this time!"

Yeah, okay? GREAT!

And then like I even wanted to go to the bathroom after knowing what was going on next to me.

Sue's back today! And avoiding me like the plague. I still cough every once in awhile and I know she's thinking I'm going to kill her.

I'm mad as hell and I'll probably still have to take it, BUT...

Here's the deal. I have officially decided that T-Mobile is the current bane of my existence. (current being defined as the LAST FOUR YEARS)

If you have to ask, "Why?", you are either not a customer or you somehow work for the company.

I know that unless T-Mobile decides to change the terms of my agreement somehow (and I'm given that time period to 'opt out'), I'm stuck in this marriage until October 2010 unless I wanna pay a fee. Yeah. I've done enough of that lately. No way. They owe me money.

Everytime I've ever gotten close to getting out in the past, I've of course needed a new phone or some other bullshit, and I've gotten sucked right back in to another contract extension. It's like owning a Dell computer. Everything is fine until the day after your warranty expires.

NOT THIS TIME.

I am going to pretend I'm somehow much more important than I really am, and that by "tweeting" about their shitty service daily, and blogging about it on here whenever I can, I'm going to eventually become such a headache for T-Mobile that they'll gladly release me.

Plus, I'm telling them I'm doing this, and then I'm going to email them my new posts.

Once I run out of my own stories, which will be difficult to do, I'm going to start soliciting other people for stories and publish those as well. Yeah. I'm kind of an asshole.

So stay tuned. My first story is going to be about how T-Mobile wouldn't give me my $150 rebate they promised me because they stated I never activated the cell phone purchased for the rebate. The same phone I was talking to them on when I called to discuss said rebate. TWELVE TIMES.

You pretty much need to listen to this CD.

So, I was given a copy of Diane Birch's "Bible Belt" to listen to and review. Honestly, I've really gotten burned in the past when I've agreed to do these, so I was automatically a little skeptical. I mean, some of them have been REALLY BAD. But whatever.

First of all, dudes. Look at her face. She's like Twiggy with hair. Ugh. It makes me want to hate her. But I can't because she's really freaking talented. Which actually should make me hate her even more.

Most of Birch's songs are fantastic. "Rewind" makes me feel pretty melancholy when I'm not busy feeling bitter and angry about love and all that crap. "Fire Escape" is the first song on the disc and totally pulled me with a voice that weighs at least twice what her body does.

I'm trying to think of the "stinker" on the disc. You know...the song that you always skip past once the music starts. There really isn't one. I honestly can't think of anything bad to say about this one, which is why I'm even bothering to tell you all about it. It's only like $7 on Amazon, so why in the hell aren't you buying it already?

Not only that, but she's got great gams.

Well, you are just not going to believe this.

Yeah. I'm a member of LinkedIn because my employer told me it would be a good way for me to "network." Pretty much, networking (whatever that is) is about the last thing I've used this site for.

Anyway, today I get an email from LinkedIn, telling me someone wants me added to their "network." Here's the message:

LinkedIn

Julie,

I'd like to add you to my professional network on LinkedIn.

- Jon

I kept staring at this message, scratching my head, wondering...WHO IN THE HELL WOULD CALL ME JULIE? AND WHO IN THE HELL IS JON?

Dudes. Then I remembered. Once upon a time, I listed a record player on Craigslist. This guy responded to the ad, calling me Julie, and told me he was going to give this to his brother for Christmas. Then he showed up to get it, with a rude girlfriend that wouldn't get off the phone, and the thing ended up not working. I was so humiliated. I kept trying different records and yeah. No go. Instead of just leaving, HE BOUGHT IT ANYWAY. I could tell it's because he felt he had to. Anyway...this is that guy! And now the pity he took on me really makes sense as it turns out he works for Thrivent Lutheran.

What in the hell do I do? The devil on my shoulder has all kinds of ideas.

There really are some fucking weird people that come into a tattoo shop. And for that I win "the most obvious statement of the year."

So yesterday I spent approxiamately six hours at the tattoo shop getting a tattoo that took approxiamately two hours to complete. Yeah. We won't even get into the "WHY" on that, as a large part of that had to do with the fact that I kept shooting the shit with Justin, the fella working on me. And he uses his hands a lot when he talks. Which means he was stopping a lot. Thank God. Anyway, it looks great, as you can see in my newest blurry picture taken with my inadequate camera phone.

Anyway, while I was in there, this guy and his pregnant wife/girlfriend/whatthefuckever (who was smoking which is always classy) came in. He wanted to get a cover up done on a chest tattoo he had, which appeared to be a heart drawn by a child with initials scribbled in the middle. He "didn't give a shit what it was as long as it didn't involve color." He liked "religious symbols and shit", which was clearly illustrated by the fact that he had a Swastika tattooed on his back.

If this weren't bad enough, he also had a teardrop tattooed near his eye that he wanted covered with a fleshtone color. Instead of doing this, it was decided that this would be CUT OUT INSTEAD. Right there, IN THE SHOP.

Dudes. I can roll with tattoo shit for hours on end without needing a break. I cannot roll with shit like this. So, while I was getting my arm done, there was a guy a few feet away, with a huge audience, getting a chunk of skin cut out of his face, and having it cauterized. Yeah. Let's just say I had to focus on bunnies and unicorns for a few minutes. And you know how I feel about unicorns.

There were a ton of other weird things that happened, but I pretty much have lost interest in talking about this.

In other news, my mom has found tons of new shit to bitch about. Hurray.

Mouth Guards..."For All the Other Times..."

For once and for all...I want to know what this means.

A local dental office has a commercial that plays all the damn time during football season. In it, there's a weird circular shot of all their dentists just grinning at the camera. As this is happening, a voiceover is telling you to contact them. For mouthguards. For "all the other times."

I don't understand what this means, and I want an answer. I called once and tried asking about this but it just didn't work out. By that, I mean, they hung up on me.

So yeah. Someone enlighten me. And if I need one for all the other times, let me know for chrissakes. I already "sorta have" a cavity. I don't need to be losing teeth during all the other times too.

Why are there some many "legendary" cashiers here in Eau Claire?

And is it the same everywhere?

We've got the girl with the incredibly annoying "lispy" voice at Target (you know...the one with the dark hair that never has anyone in her line), the greeter at Wal-Mart who says the same shit over and over again (but then doesn't say a word when he's on his break AND YES I KNOW HE'S NOT TECHNICALLY A CASHIER), and then there's the other one at Wal-Mart that might have pushed me over the edge this morning. I'm currently chewing mad amounts of gum, which I'm blaming on her.

She's the nerdy girl with the big dark glasses and the dark, short hair. She's pretty much the kind of girl that would go on "What Not To Wear" and look exactly the same, even after they did everything they could for her. She's.incredibly.thorough. And comments on EVERYTHING.

So, I'm using my own shopping bags. Mostly because I have no use for anymore plastic bags, but also because of the whole "environment thing." This particular bag has some writing on it about lettuce. I have no fricking clue. I got it for free. Anyway, she's like, "Wowowowow. That's a reaaaaaaaaally pretty bag. Who says being green has to be boring?" Okay. That's a little weird but I just chuckle and say thanks. Then she's like, "Yeah. I love the environment. You know that Wal-Mart sells reeeeeeeeeusable shopping bags, right?"

I tell her I know this and then point them out. Because they're right in front of the counter. And even if I needed more reusable shopping bags (which I don't for chrissakes..everyone and their mother is selling these), I wouldn't buy bags that said WAL-MART on them in huge letters. I don't mention this part because I've been told I say too much in these situations and it can be seen as "rude." And let's not go into the "Wal-Mart sucks" argument. Like the corporate people at Target are any better. C'mon. (And yeah, I do like Target better because their clothes don't fall apart and their produce isn't rotten)

Then she comments on everything I'm buying; which largely involves 2-liter bottles of assorted diet sodas, Splenda, and gum. She's like..."Someone's thirsty! Do you like Diet Rootbeer?" No. I don't. That's why I bought 4 bottles. And of course this is all happening on my way to work, so I have all the time in the world to talk about Diet Rootbeer.

Then she gets to the Splenda and makes some comment about how she's read that Splenda "maybe isn't that good for you." Well dude. I've had this argument before. And I pretty much don't care. I told her I was a risk-taker. LOL This makes me laugh, just thinking about it.

Anyway, I pay with cash, thinking this would somehow be faster. No. Because she has no change. Apparently paying with cash "doesn't happen very often." Which then makes me think she should have all the change in the world.

Then, as I was leaving, she shouted, "Enjoy your pop!"

I have learned a valuable lesson today. I'm not entirely sure what it is but when I think of it, I'll let you know. It might be as simple as never going in this girl's line again. It might be as complex as never purchasing Diet Rootbeer from Wal-Mart again.

In other news, I'm honestly joining the Eau Claire Rod and Gun Club today.