Archive for WTF

Stories from the Shawarma Shack

This week started with a whimper and ended with a WTF.

Mondays are typically slow. This Monday was no different. I’ll save you the snore fest and sum it up by saying that it was barely worth the gas I spent driving there. Except that this little red haired girl © Charlie Brown showed up and said she was a new hire. Excellent. We need more waitstaff (sort of). Welcome aboard, I’ll show you the basics before R (The Boss’ oldest daughter) gives you your full training. Red tells me her girl-friend had started the day before. Gravy! Now roll the silverware.

Tuesday I had the day off. Which meant I ran around like mad until it was time for me to get The Kid from school. Then I took a nap. I’m so lame.

Wednesday was slow. Except for a girl from a local group that I’m active in showing up to work and discussing her boy toy’s (her words not mine) aversion to food in general and the reason behind it (and there’s a good reason behind it), it was pretty boring (see why I don’t blog about work? Not a damn thing happens).

R comes in and as we’re closing out my shift she starts grumbling about her dad giving her two bisexuals and telling her to train them. I had to stop myself from laughing too loud. My boss’ idea of a qualified employee is young and female. Being bisexual, if he had actually known about it at the time of hiring, would probably have been the cherry on his sundae. I don’t call him a Greasy Rat Bastard for nothing. I laughed and mentioned that Red had said her girlfriend was working here, but I thought that she meant girl-friend, not girlfriend. I asked R how she knew they were bi. She says they told her and that were making out in the parking lot.

*pause*

Making out? Neither of them drive, so that means they were standing in full view of everyone driving past.

Now let me state now, I have absolutely no issue with anyone being anything other than straight. Do what makes you happy. However, I do have a problem with people getting happy at work. It’s just not professional. We may not be Tavern On The Green but you don’t make out standing in the middle of the parking lot of the job you just got. It’s just not kosher. Plus, not all of our customers really appreciate girl-girl action. Ann Arbor might be a major liberal city, but there are still enough McCain/Palin signs around to remind you that conservatives still exist within city limits.

Thursday, I came in late and pissed off. Very pissed off. The Man drove me to work so he could run some errands during the day. Apparently, if I tell him at 1015 that I want to leave in 5 minutes, that means I want to leave at 1030, which is the time that I’m supposed to BE at work. It started slow, mostly take out orders, which is pretty normal since we open around the beginning of people’s lunch. My cook, Mo, was on his cell phone for most the day, yakking away, loud as hell, in Arabic. Which meant anytime there was a lull in orders he’d go out back to talk more, which meant I had to go find his ass so people wouldn’t be waiting forever for their food.

Around 3 I had a rush. 10 people came in pretty much at the same time. Completely unexpected, though not wholly unwelcome (except the chick who stiffed me. She’s unwelcome). Near the end of my shift, before R came in, Red’s girlfriend calls, “I won’t be able to keep working there. I’m exhausted and I keep working like this I won’t be able to get my school work done.”

*pause*

That has to be the lamest fucking excuse to quit ever. She’s exhausted? She worked TWICE since being hired. That’s it. Two days. That’s her whole damn training period. But she’s exhausted? She had someone working with her so she wasn’t being swamped with customers. But she’s exhausted. GTFOOHWTBS.

I wake up at 645 (though I don’t actually get out of bed until 700), get The Kid clean, dressed, and off to school (she eats breakfast there). Then I go to work where I run around (or stand around) for 6.5 hours dealing with an idiot boss and customers who seem to enjoy annoying the hell out of me with their stupid petty requests for shit that doesn’t even come with their order. Come home, make dinner, take care of The Kid, check her school assignments, praise her for the work she’s done (and let’s not go into what I have to go through when she’s sick), make sure The Man has what he needs for work, deal with email, messages, blogs and I don’t get to actually wind down until after 10pm. If The Man works a midnight shift, I stay up until he leaves (1145pm), then I’m still up chatting with friends that I haven’t had a chance to actually talk to all day because I was busy. Then it’s bedtime and up at 645 to do it all over again.

But she’s exhausted.

Kiss. My. Ass.

Her shift was 5.5 hours. That’s it. You don’t even get a damn lunch break unless you work 8. She worked a grand total of 11 hours this week. But she’s exhausted.

I told R when she came in, one of my regular customers was at the counter when I told her. He works full time and goes to school full time. He laughed and said she needed to get over it. R is a high school student, oldest of four kids (which means she basically does the parenting when The Boss isn’t around…The Boss is divorced and Mom lives in another state) and works in her dad’s restaurant after school. She just rolled her eyes.

Red quit too. I had a feeling they weren’t going to stay around long. Neither of them had waitressing experience, and neither of them had ever actually been to the restaurant to eat. They just saw a help wanted sign and came in. Red couldn’t identify any of the items we have on the menu except for a few of our salads and hummus. That’s it. Red’s excuse for quitting was that it was too far to walk and she couldn’t afford the bus (her bus fare would have been two dollars every day she worked, plus since she was working night shift, someone could have given her a lift, so it would have been just one). Her and her GF came in to give R a birthday present (Thursday was her birthday), and Red was using a walking stick that was too long for her and hobbling rather dramatically saying that her knee was swelling froma childhood injury and that it hurt to even stand none the less walk.

She applied for a job as a waitress knowing that she was going to be doing a lot of walking and standing. WTF. Another lame ass excuse if you ask me. What fucking waitress SITS? If all we did was sit all day we wouldn’t have to wear ugly, comfortable shoes. We could wear the cute, but highly uncomfortable ones designed for women who don’t do a lot of walking.

So we’re down two waitresses who probably would have sucked as waitresses anyway. They’ll go get jobs at the mall or something now. Good riddance.

Get the fuck out of here with this bullshit!

Tomorrow is The Kid’s 5th birthday and she told me weeks ago that she wanted to have a red cake with chocolate icing. I can do that. No problem. Except I don’t have a cake pan (I lent it to someone who moved). And I just found that bit of information out today. And I’m broke. So I shoot a message to the two local Free-Cycle groups asking to borrow cake pans.

No response, I can deal with. But this? This is too damn much

if i may make a suggestion………..if we give gifts throughout the year ….then we would be following our perfect model……Jesus …..because he talked about the traditions and doctrins of this system which are created be man and not by God himself………the question is: would you rather be doing things that come from your heart on any given day or by some one telling you…. it’s ony authorized on a certain day, the Bible tells us “A name is better than good oil, and the day of death than the day of one’s being born ” Ecclesiastes 7:1…..that’s why we don’t know the true birth day of Jesus because he said that was not important to one’s life………but what is……..what type of name did we make with God……..this wasn’t meant to offend you and if that is what you thought…….i’m truly sorry……..it was just a friendly suggestion to look real close at your Bible and see if you see the same thing……..do have a blessed day……vrsp kandi

Now, my knee jerk reaction was “Bitch, who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? You don’t know one damn thing about me and you presume to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do for my daughter on her birthday. Kiss the length and width of my ass.”

But I didn’t. I was a good girl.

1. I’m not Christian. My religion, or lack thereof, is not your business.
2. I just want to make a cake for my daughter. That’s all.
3. You have no idea what I do for my family on a day to day basis. So
you can keep all your self-righteous preaching. Until you LIVE my
life, you don’t COMMENT on it.

That was as civil as I could have gotten under the circumstances. I just wanted to make my kid a cake and you want to preach to me about Jesus? Yeah. No.

I know she said she didn’t mean for it to be offensive, but I find it VERY offensive. You know nothing about me, or my life and you want to tell me how to live it? Hell no.  Hell no and kiss my ass, fuck you very much.

Sorry for all the cussing but you have no idea how much stuff like this irks me. I asked to borrow a cake pan not for a fucking sunday school lesson.

The Noggin Channel Scares Me A Bit

There. I’ve said it. And if you watched Nickelodian’s Noggin channel (it’s repository for Nick’s Nick Jr. content), you’d feel the same way.

While I do like Noggin much more than Sprout (PBS’s cable/satellite channel for children’s programming), the only show I like on Discovery Kids is Peep and The Big Wide World (I think I like the theme song, performed by Taj Mahal, most) and Toon Disney never finds its way onto my tv screen (Disney = Devil), there are a few shows that either scare me…or make me scratch my head.

I like a lot of Noggin’s programming. Backyardigans is my favorite (mostly because The Kid gets up and dances along with it), and I loooove Little Bill. Maggie and the Ferocious Beast; top marks. Oswald gets a vote from me too.

Then you have shows like Max and Ruby, which features two bunnies of the approximate ages of 3 and 7 (respectively) and their day to day adventures. What’s wrong with this? Max and Ruby have no parents. All their friends have parents, and there are adults who occasionally drop by, but Max and Ruby’s parents are never, ever, around. This leaves Ruby in charge of her little brother Max. They run errands together by catching the bus (I don’t even want to know how Ruby gets bus fare). They do have a grandmother, but she lives on the other side of town, which means taking the bus there too. Now and then Ruby mentions their mother, usually in reference to something else  to explain a situation (i.e. “Mother said we have to spend the day and Grandmother’s house.”). Beyond that, Max and Ruby are on their own. Don’t they have laws against that in their little bunny world?

Then you have shows like Franklin and Little Bear. For the most part, there’s nothing wrong with these shows. Maurice Sendak (Where The Wild Things Are) illustrated Little Bear so, really, you can’t put too much of a knock on it. And I actually do like these shows. The head scratching comes in when they start talking about pets. See, Franklin and Little Bear are largely centered around anthropomorphic animals, though Little Bear does feature two human characters.  I’ve never understood how animal cartoon characters can have pets. Isn’t that sort of akin to slavery? Franklin’s best friend is a snail, yet Franklin has been known to own a fish. Little Bear has a friend named Cat (who is a cat, duh), yet Emily, the human friend, owns a dog for a pet (the dog, unlike Little Bear and Cat, cannot talk).

Then there’s Yo Gabba Gabba. This show…it scares me. I can not express how much it scares me, but it does. If you have seen it, you’d be scared too. It’s like HR Pufnstuf toned down and without the (obvious) drug references.

It featurers five Pufnstuf-esque creatures that are meant to be like puppets manipulated by a “puppet master” named DJ Lance Rock, who is a skinny black guy in a bright orange, and very tight, jumpsuit, with an equally bright orange fuzzy hat and 80’s Run DMC style glasses. Part of me wanted to scream racism when I first saw the show. But I also knew that would be totally false. There’s nothing even minutely racist about the show. It’s just the fact that a skinny black guy clad, head to toe, in bright orange scares me for some inexplicable reason. The show features music, “dancing” (there are people in those suits, you really can’t call hopping from foot to foot while waving your arms wildly dancing…unless you’re white….KIDDING!), the occasional “guest” (Elijah Wood [HOBBITSES!] and Biz Markee have made appearances) and life lessons for the 3-5 year old set (like sharing, and not biting others).

One of their more disturbing skits deals with eating. One or all of the creatures gather around for meal time and start singing “There’s a party in my tummy!” and, out of nowhere, the food on the plate grow faces and respond “SO YUMMY! SO YUMMY!” They then call out the name of each food (or drink) before “eating” it. Once eaten you get an inside view of the creature’s stomach so you can see the food “partying”. I should mention that the food is completely intact, which means it was swallowed whole with no chewing involved. This includes items like chicken legs. The other day, while watching this show (actually I was walking by the tv while The Kid was watching it and was forced to stop and stare…there’s something about that show that makes you do that) I disovered one of the creatures actuall has THREE stomachs.

Inevitably, the creatures leave some bit of their food on the plate, and as they walk away the food begins to cry. The creatures walk back and ask the food why it’s crying only to get the reply “We want to go to the party! The party in your tummy!” (suicidal food?), and they are rewarded by being gulped down in the same fashion as all the other food was.

Don’t believe me? Watch this:

See what I mean? SCARY STUFF! Honestly, who the hell thought this was a good idea?

So, yeah…Noggin programming is scary stuff man.

Losers everywhere, take heart, Chris Kattan married a model

which means you can too!

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080630/ap_en_ot/people_chris_kattan

NEW YORK – Chris Kattan, a former cast member of NBC’s “Saturday Night Live,” tied the knot with model Sunshine Tutt in Yosemite Valley, Calif., on Saturday, his publicist, Jill Fritzo, said Monday.

Kattan, 37, appeared on “SNL” from 1996 to 2003. His screen credits include “Corky Romano” and “A Night at the Roxbury.”

The couple became engaged on Christmas Eve 2006.

Cops shoot mentally ill man over FEMA trailer

WTF YO?

NEW ORLEANS, Louisiana (AP) — A man fatally shot by police after a 10-hour standoff Wednesday had suffered with mental illness for much of his life, and it worsened in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, a family member said.

Eric Minshew, 49, ordered Federal Emergency Management Agency workers to leave his trailer when they arrived for an inspection Tuesday afternoon, according to accounts from police.

Later, police said he fired at them several times and was fatally shot after pointing a handgun at officers who tried to arrest him. No officers were injured.

Rosemarie Brocato, who lives about a block away from the house, said she had told police, “He’s sick. Please don’t shoot him. He needs help.”

The man had moved into the family home about eight years ago, with no money and no job, his brother, Homer M. Minshew III, said Wednesday. He survived the hurricane, but the family was awaiting government aid so they could either pay the house off or fix it up and sell it.

He suffered for years with mental problems that “got a lot worse after the storm,” his brother said. He felt his hopes of inheriting his parents’ home — a place he’d felt a strong connection to — diminish, he said. He owned a gun because he had gotten a job as a security guard, according to his brother.

“He had a lot of serious mental issues and would all of a sudden go off on a rant about the government, the local, state government, the feds and everything else,” he said. “He has some issues. He just snapped. Thank God nobody else got hurt.”

James Arey, commander of the police department’s crisis intervention team, said the man had not been treated and that the case “doesn’t have anything to do with Katrina.” Police did not officially release Minshew’s identity.

The trailer was near the family home on a block that appeared abandoned. Many houses have gone unrepaired since the storm, and have broken windows. Taped to Minshew’s front window were a USA Today front-page article headlined “Do you have a legal right to own a gun?” and a no trespassing sign.

The porch held a wreath, a cross and a plywood sign with “Jesus is my Messiah” in green paint. A car in the driveway had two flat tires.

Brocato said Minshew lived alone after the storm and that his short temper seemed to get worse. He seemed very lonely, she said, often stopping her to talk for a half-hour at a time when she passed his house.

“He just needed someone to talk to, I guess. I felt sorry for him,” she said.

The FEMA inspection was a first step toward reclaiming the trailer. The federal agency has been pushing to get residents out of trailers across the Gulf Coast, in part because possibly dangerous levels of the chemical formaldehyde have been found in many of them.

FEMA spokesman James McIntyre said the agency cannot release any specifics about the case, such as when the man got the trailer or whether anyone else lived there with him. The officers involved in the shooting have been reassigned to administrative duties during the investigation, said Officer Garry Flot, a police spokesman.

“This is a very unfortunate situation and our prayers go out to the family of the deceased,” he said.

Lakeview, one of the city’s more affluent neighborhoods, was under as much as 11 feet of water after the levee on the nearby 17th Street Canal broke during Katrina on August 29, 2005.

While it has been one of the fastest to recover, it is not without scars from the flood. Some trailers were still parked outside homes under renovation, schools and firehouses have been slow to reopen and there are many vacant lots where homes were demolished because of damage suffered during the storm.

——————————–

Because Katrina victims aren’t suffering enough from the neglect of their government, a man who was obviously disturbed before the storm and became more so afterwards needs to get shot over a damn trailer when the government hasn’t done a damn thing to fix his HOUSE?

Oh hell no.

Reasons to fear the fact that the fate of our world will be in the hands of today’s kids

Going through my RSS reader’s “recommended feeds” I came across one titled “Computer Class”. Now, I thought this was a clever title that meant something other than the obvious…no. It means just what it says. She’s blogging while in Computer class.

I saw a post stating that Wayne state university wasn’t the school for her…so I checked her profile and came across this little nugget of genius:

Why does the color blue mean raspberry-flavored?

It means blue because, berrys are blue.

*blinks, too stunned to say anything*

She’s 14 and wants to be an OB/GYN when she grows up. Dear God what I wouldn’t give to be a man in 15 years if just to avoid the chance of some how having her as my doctor.

Food blog and Daily Show hilarity

Well I finished setting up my food blog, A Dollar Out Of Fifteen Cents. No entries just yet, but soon come…soon come.

My sister told me Sunday about Comedy Centrals The Daily Show ripping on the Kwame Kilpatrick sex scandal. I haven’t mentioned anything about it lately because I simply don’t have the time to blog every four hours when some new fact comes out about this atrocity. I’m not exaggerating. Every time I open my RSS reader there is some new bit of news about this mess and, honestly, I’m sick of it. The City Counsel voted five to four to oust this bastard and yet…he’s still there. And now there are recall petitions up to remove the five members who voted for his ouster.

WTF?!?

Detroiters, have you lost your fuckings MINDS? What the hell is wrong with you people?

Anyway…The Daily Show…

You gotta see this to believe it.

Wonders of Nature

Since my net is down currently, I have to walk up to the library to check email and all that. Now the walk isn’t far and the weather has been pleasant since Spring finally decided to show itself. However there’s always been one sign of spring that’s always baffled me. It’s a peculiar tree that I see around a lot. I don’t know the name of this tree, but if there’s one in your area you’ll know it as soon as I describe it.

I first saw this tree in 7th grade. Our school didn’t have a gym so we played in the park across the street from our building. During the spring there were these trees with these gorgeous white flowers covering them. Apple or cherry blossoms I initially thought. But when I got to the trees I was knocked over by the smell. They reeked like something rotten. I figured it was because the park was home to bums at night. But over time I discovered that that wasn’t the case at all. The trees simply stink.

Standing downwind of these things is like standing downwind of raw sewage. Walking past them, it takes a lot not to gag and choke from the stench. I can’t imagine why anyone would willingly plant these foul things in front of their house except to keep guests away.

Wait…WHAT?!?

Leave it to the military to come up with something like this. I’ll admit, some of their past projects have been cool (like the heat ray for instance…I still want one) and others have lent themselves to hours of gut busting hilarity (gay bomb anyone?). But this…this is just…*shudders*

According to Engadget, the Department of Defense is setting up research to look into regrowing body parts. You know, like some lizards and worms do.

Except humans aren’t lizards or worms. Well…some humans are worms, but not in the literal sense.

The DoD is obviously out to create a super soldier. They’ve already sunk money into research that will keep soldiers from feeling the effects of fatigue so they can stay in the field longer with less sleep (never mind those harmful results of sleep deprivation…what’s a little psychosis amongst friends). They’re also doing research on advanced robotic limb replacements that will have all the fine motor skills that real limbs do…and then some.

They’re going to do this under the cover of helping soldiers who have lost limbs or have been shot. But let’s face facts, since the end of the draft they’ve been having a hard time recruiting kids, and with the never ending war going on, they’re having an even harder time getting and keeping soldiers. So if your troops can spontaneously regenerate limbs (which, I have to admit, is cool in an “I used to read X-men and wish I was a mutant with powers” sort of way), then you won’t have to worry about shortages due to lost limbs. Of course this research could be used to create perfect-match organs for people desperately in need of transplants, but, and I’m just being honest here, that sort of technology would only be available to the richest of the rich who can afford it. The other 90% of people who need it will have to pray their insurance will cover it or hope that some charity will take pity on them and help.

Now, the part that really scares me (aside from the images from Terminator II-when the liquid cyborg kept regenerating himself after being shot in the head-that keep playing in my mind), is that this sort of ability is genetic. Salamanders don’t learn how to regenerate. They just do. It’s part of their DNA. For this sort of technology to be used in the military, they’d have to find a way to alter each soldier’s genetic structure, and hope that there are no unintended consequences (like a squid-soldier who has seven arms). Doing each individual as they come in would be costly, and inefficient. And while the government and military seem to only function when they are costly and inefficient, eventually they are going to start “testing” on the general public. Which makes me think that No Child Left Behind will become No Fetus Left Unaltered after a time. It will be voluntary at first, of course, but then it will become compulsory. Or worse, they’ll just do it without the mother’s permission anyway. She can’t say anything about it once the baby is here right?

Yeah I know, that’s worst case scenario, gloom and doom type talk…but let’s be honest, if they find a way to do this, it won’t be long before this sort of thing plays itself out. We’re a country where the vast majority of our tax dollars go to military spending (more than education and health care combined in fact). We are, essentially, a military state. Our only recourse, our only known way to assert our will, has been through force. Since the first settlers dropped anchor. Hell, since the Conquistadors dropped anchor. If we backed off our military spending, we’d eventually be seen as the paper tiger we are. If African countries got themselves together and organised, they’d make us their bitch (talk about reparations). Hell, eastern Europe could take us, as disorganised and that area is. So we have to keep spending. Making out military bigger, stronger, faster (and whatever else they said in the beginning of the 6 Million Dollar Man).

Can you see the snowball?

Ok, I admit, I sound like a crazed conspiracy theorist. And I’m honestly not. I just like seeing the pros and cons of things and this has a lot of cons. Like a lot a lot. It’s not like our government and military are renown for their ethics. Especially when it comes to the medical field.

Anyhow, I can’t see this sort of technology actually being usable anytime in the foreseeable future. And those ranting, raving, foaming at the mouth, ultra religious right wingers wouldn’t allow for experiments to be performed on embryos, especially not when it comes to tampering with DNA and genetics. They’d see it as playing God and would raise Hell (how ironic) like no one’s business. Huh…maybe they have a use after all.

What Donut Are You?


You Are a Powdered Devil’s Food Donut


A total sweetheart on the outside, you love to fool people with your innocent image.
On the inside you’re a little darker, richer, and more complex.
You’re a hedonist who demands more than one pleasure at a time.
Decadent and daring, you test the limits of human indulgence.

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