Taco Hell

I am not a huge fan of Mexican food (this actually extends to most anything non-American, especially if I am in another country. I swear I had to have lost 10lbs when I went to Switzerland last year!!)…although I don’t mind actual, authentic Mexican food. (as long as is it served in a restaurant in the good ‘ol USofA) But there was one time, just once, when I’d had a terrible day at work and Workaholic wasn’t going to be home anytime soon, that I decided to whip my car into the Taco Bell drive thru. (yes, I know that Taco Bell isn’t even close to Mexican, but it’s in the same food group)

You have to understand that I was a cashier for years at a fast paced restaurant. (actually, it’s all relative because I am fairly certain that the average age of our customers was about 85). Anyway, this led me to be one of “those people” who will give you a penny if your total requires getting back 4 cents just so I can get the nickel. I hate pennies. You can’t do anything with them except put them in a jar and say, “Ooo…look at how many pennies I have.” Anyway, I digress.

So on this particular day, my total came to $3.74. (yes, I was feasting at the Taco Bell) I gave the English-is-not-my-first-language boy at the drive thru $5.04. Which should mean that I got back a dollar and 30 cents. You know, get rid of 4 pieces of change and only get 2 back. It’s a win-win. But he stared at the drawer, and the screen, and back at the drawer, and I am watching him, thinking to myself, “Self, I don’t think he can make the change.” But I refrained from helping him, because really, a high-schooler should be able to make change, whether or not he has graduated. You know what I got back??? A dollar and twenty-nine cents. As in NINE FREAKING PENNIES. This was not supposed to happen. I was supposed to just get my little change and drive on to the next window and grab my food and go home, and watch TV and cuddle with my Fonz.

So what did I do? I'll tell you what I did. I told him, “You gave me the wrong change.” I was so stunned by the fact that the dumb kid working the drive thru at Taco Bell couldn’t make change; it was all I could think of to say.

His response? “That’s what the computer said.”

WHAT??? That’s your answer??? Seriously???

He could tell that I was angry at his incompetence, and I actually said, “Well, well…your computer is stupid!!” And then drove on to get my food…which by this point I am sure that someone had seen the previous exchange and promptly spit in my Mountain Dew.

The best part? I actually started crying on the way home. Crying. As in real tears. I don’t know why, but My Parents Are Illegal Immigrants But I am Legal Boy just upset me so much, because he thought I, the accountant, was the dumb one!! Needless to say, I haven’t eaten any Taco Bell since.

(and in case you are wondering, no, this did not happen recently, so I was NOT pregnant, just had a bad day. I'd like to thank my friend at work for reminding me of this wonderful incident)

Slippery little suckers...

Am I the only person on the planet who thought it was hil-ar-ious that they made Kim Kardashian (who is famous for a big ass and a sex tape) dance to Baby Got Back on Dancing With the Stars last night???

On the flip side, I got new furniture today!!! Isn’t it pretty??? (just don’t try to sit on it, you’ll slide right off like you’re a greased pig) (and yes, that is a pouting Fonz...he's come off his Xanax high because he's not allowed on the new couches...and because he is now NINE YEARS OLD!!!)

Milestones and other assorted tidbits

So I turned 30 this weekend. It was fairly uneventful, except I somehow managed to stretch it out 4 days, and I am exhausted. First, dinner and presents with the in-laws. (surprise!) Second, presents and cake with Workaholic, then a blissful sleep after a long, hot, sticky, sad day. Third, visiting with my parents (more presents and cake!!) and finally, a full day of spending money at the outlet malls. (which BTW, I am really good at! Thanks for helping me Nadene!!!)

The learning experience for the weekend is that Xanex can cause the munchies. As evidenced by here. (if you look closely, you can see the blue tongue and blue slobber on the bottom of his lip)

Also, please remember that this is National Stay at Home Week, as declared by the major networks. There is just too much good TV on to step out into the sunlight.

Shaken Fetus Syndrome???

Does anyone know if you can give your unborn child Shaken Baby Syndrome? Of course, I am asking this as an afterthought, because when Kory Sheets was running 80 yards down the field on his way to a touchdown on the 2nd play of the game on Saturday, all I could think of was a) not falling off of the bleacher that I was jumping on and b) screaming my trademark cheer in this situation “RUN FASTER!!!!!”.

(BTW...in case you are wondering, the child protested the jumping by either a) grabbing onto my appendix or kidney or something there on my right side and sqeezing as hard as possible, probably hanging on for dear life, or b) ramming its head into my kidney or appendix so I would feel the pain that it was feeling. Either way, peeing helped.)

Of course, we lost the game, because why should we be able to beat a Top 25 team even though we were up 20-3 at one point? At least Kory feels the same way I do about it. I can’t find the exact quote, but he said something like this… “We get a big lead and then just sit on it. We can’t do that. When we get up big, we need to grab them by the throat, put them on the sidewalk, and stomp on it.” Amen!!

I never claimed to be low maintenance

A friend of ours lives in Houston and sent out an e-mail to let everyone know that they will be bearing down during Ike…and not evacuating. They are right on the line, so I guess they have that option. After reading a few articles on Ike, I’ve decided on what I would need in order to ride out a hurricane…

· A whole house generator
· Enough gas for said generator to last a couple of weeks
· Booze
· Food…lots of it
· Booze
· Toilet paper
· Booze
· DVDs…seeing as how cable will probably be knocked out
· Booze
· Books
· More food
· Booze…or anything else to help me take my mind off of the 100 mph winds ripping my back porch apart.

Any other ideas??

Rusty

Looking back at my post from the other day, it occurred to me to point out that my family in the South isn’t completely heartless when it comes to their dogs. (the dogs just have to be smart enough to survive on their own-duh) A discussion at the aforementioned lunch reminded me of such.

Somehow, inevitably, the Border Collie "Rusty" always comes up whenever the past is talked about. I assume he was a Border Collie, judging by his job on the farm (rounding up the cows…this was before my uncle’s cow call was perfected. eeeyyycav) and by the looks of him in the one picture that my mom has. I was a teenager when I first saw this picture. And to say that I fell in love was the understatement statement of the year.

I knew nothing of Rusty; the picture just appeared one day. It’s an old black and white, with my mom and two of her sisters. (she thinks…but of course, she isn’t sure that it is her, because that was a long time ago and it’s not like she spent her youth staring at herself in the mirror) It’s one of those pictures that you pay a photojournalist big bucks to take now. Total candid shot, but everyone, including Rusty, happens to be looking at the camera. The kids aren’t beaming, but they all are leaning in to him, you can tell that there is total trust there…he isn’t one of the wild dogs that runs around the farm waiting for leftover scraps. (though I am sure he did that too) I would sit and stare at this picture and dream of the day that I would get myself a Rusty…he was just so gorgeous! (of course, I then learned a little something about Border Collies, and have re-thought my acquisition of one…seeing as how I don’t have a farm nor any other job for the dog to do)

My aunt, the one who we forced to go to lunch, thought that Rusty had died a dreadful death, chasing down a neighbor’s truck and latching onto the tire, only to get crushed. Everyone else decided that she was wrong and he had lived to be old enough to get sick and come into the basement of my grandparent’s house and curl up next to the furnace. (OMG…if my dog got sick he would get a throne of soft blankets next to the fireplace, but this was a different time…no dogs allowed in the house) I decided that Rusty dying of old age was way better than getting his teeth stuck in a tire. (which, I have learned recently, is something that Border Collies will do, as proven in Jon Katz’s book “A Good Dog”)

Thinking back, it’s actually quite amazing that there is a picture of Rusty. I mean, he was just a farm dog, and there were 7 kids, and it’s not like cameras were as commonplace as they are now. But they cared enough about him to take his picture. And they kept it for 40 years. And now, a good 50 or so years after he lived, they still remember him fondly, and talk of him often. I just hope that in 50 years, people remember my Fonz just like how Rusty is remembered.

More Stories of Home...

So I promised more stories of the South…well, the South for me anyway. Anything south of Demotte is pretty much The South for me. (that’s because the people are nicer)

I loved going to church Sunday morning and realizing that I am related to about 80 of the 100 people there…and then it only took 40 minutes. And while looking at the pew with my cousin and her husband in it, I realized that of the 6 kids in the row, they came from 5 different sets of parents, because people are all about trading kids for the weekend. And how the priest shut off all the lights while my family was inside talking after Mass and told my aunt, “Just lock the door on your way out.”

I loved how we spontaneously decided to pick up my sick aunt and take her out for lunch…and even though it was my aunts and uncles and my parents, they insisted that Workaholic and I come along. (guess they like having the young ‘uns around) (on that note, I also love how we don’t talk about what is actually wrong with sick people in the family…because really, who needs to know their family medical history anyway??) (my dad once had surgery and we forgot to tell one of my sisters...Santa brought us coal the next Christmas...let that be a lesson to you kids out there!!)

I loved how at lunch, they immediately started talking politics, and no one kept their voice down when saying politically incorrect things, such as “That Obama’s whole family is Muslim!” Which meant I didn’t have to keep my voice down when I said, “That is just an outright lie! He is a total Christian!” (on a side note, I haven’t decided who I am voting for, and when I do, I highly doubt I will be writing about it here…so you’re welcome for that)

And I also loved how we just laughed about our political differences and moved on to talking about babies and work and family and gossip about the neighbors. Like normal people. And I love the discussion of exactly what the cattle call it is that my uncle uses. (something like "eeeyycav") And how it actually works.

It's a refreshing place to go, see the fam, but sad at the same time, because let's face it, the town has seen better days. It is getting harder and harder for young people to stay and have a career and raise their family. Not to say that they don't do it, but it's getting harder. Maybe that's why Chris didn't know what time zone he lived in.