An Old Women Regrets

I had on my little green smock and I was going to town. Biscuits, cheese, yogurt- sack of cold stuff. Meat. Price check. Green onions-4068 UPC.
I was speaking with the customer, who was a regular of mine. She is one of those old ladies who is somewhat reserved, but not the true definition of conservative- she isn’t entirely sweet and mannerly with a wig and a strong perfume (There has to be some sort of secret old lady store where they can buy a special ghastly scent-they all smell the exact same way). She's different because I can’t smell her , and she has a streak of something else mixed in there, and it’s something you can see in her smile as she leaves. I hope I figure it out when I’m that age.
Anyway, we were talking about prom I think, and she said it was one of her biggest regrets.
My one-track brain immediately jumped to the guy, and I asked her if she had wanted to go with a different boy.
Oh no, she said. Oh no, she was very happy with the boy she went with.
Then what?
She would have done things differently after prom.
….?
She went home, like a good girl. She wanted to go with him so badly, but she went home. Oh the things she could’ve done with that boy---she can’t really go into details and I don’t know the whole story, but she wishes she would have went with him that night. Oh yes, she wishes she would have went with him. (Woman smiles mischievously)
Mind you, 50 years would be an accurate estimate of the time having elapsed here since this woman’s prom. She still wishes… I have to meet this guy---does he have grandsons?
There was a lady behind her in line, and we both politely waited until the lady had left to burst into wild laughter.
Wow, we thought, most people regret all the wild things that they did, not they crazy sex they didn’t have!
I wonder what I’ll regret.
I asked the laughing customer what she regretted. She said she wished she would have not married so young. They are still together, but she wishes she would have waited, and dated a little more to make sure he was the only one for her. She had dated him all through high school.
Interesting.
There is a reason that I love working at IGA-I learn a great deal of valuable information-I should have crazy sex with everyone and date around. I suppose that would make me a slut, but I wouldn’t want to have any regrets, now would I?

IHOP You Like This One

Well ya'll, now that I been down hurr in Texas with my good ol' family, I reckon I been slackin' in these here parts. Haha. I promise I haven't picked up that Texas twang quite yet, and I don't believe chewing on a piece of straw will ever be for me. However, being referred to as a a "southern bell" sounds like fun. Where do I come off choosing what little Texan traits I pick up? Alright, enough of that...it's been a long time since I last blogged guys, so hang tight this one might be a little rough.

Last night I handed my clock-out slip to my manager, thanked him for the night, gave an adios and a wave to the kitchen staff, put one last chair up on a table by the fountain, and with my purse and car keys in hand I pushed open those Don Pablos doors into the Texas air.
As I made my way to my car I dug for the cell phone that was buried in my purse, flipped it open, and dialed home. As the phone rang I opened the car door, untied my apron, and scooted into the car. Key in, lights on, brake, shift, reverse,shift, drive, and I was off. Ah yes, the drive home...I love that feeling. Don't worry this isn't like one of those movies where I forgot about something and left it out of the next scene. Haha. The phone was still ringing. Voice mail picked up after what seemed to be an eternity (a slight exaggeration) and I shut the phone. Mom hasn't checked her voice mail since she got her phone so I would have basically been talking to myself. I came to a red light and started to turn up the radio just as my phone started jumping around in the drink holder. No, it wasn't possessed, it was on vibrate. Okay, so maybe you understood that, but I didn't. Laughing at myself I picked up the phone, "Heyllo." "Where you at?"-no, this wasn't my mom... haha it was my brother. "Brandon," I exclaimed, "(insert laughter) I'm on my way home- Wooooohooo!!!!" (Don't be scared...I'm always super hyper after work) Brandon and I chatted for a few minutes and then a light bulb came on in my head and I was like, "Brandon...get Brittany.. we're going to IHOP!" Earlier in the day Brittany had said she'd always wanted to go to IHOP, which reminded me that I'd always wanted to go too. What better time than 12:30!?! Gotta support those 24 hour places.. they're open late/early for a reason. A left turn and a right turn and I was home. I pulled up to the curb and told Brandon I was out front. The door was locked so he had to come let me in. Before I approached the door I did a little clapping dance and made some noise....not because I'm crazy, but there's a bird that has a nest in the wreath on our door and it's darted at Brittany before. I didn't want to take any chances. Following the clap dance, I did a duck-and-run into the house. Brandon laughed at me, and he had every right to...it was pretty funny looking.

The blogs moving too slow.. fast forward.

We pulled into a packed parking lot under the big blue sign and unloaded. I watched Brittany and Brandon walk in front of me and almost had a moment. (It's crazy how time flies.) Instead I focused on the adventure...IHOP baby.. yeah! Haha. We walked in the restaurant together and I smiled at the semi-friendly security guard that was watching the door. Standing together we followed the directions posted on a small stand and waited to be seated. A man in a white shirt and a tie approached, "Hello, how many?" Haha. I chuckled to myself as I wondered whether he should say, "Good evening" or "Good morning." I couldn't have his job- I would always second-guess my greeting. Snapping out of my thought I realized that no one had replied and said, "3 for non-smoking please." "Great, follow me," this guy was pleasant- I liked him. I looked around as we were led to our table in the back, this place was pretty large. (Is that typical or is this just a Texas thing!?) Cough, cough....we must have passed through the smoking section. The man stopped at a table near the window and set down the menus. This was our stop. Britt and I sat on one side and Brandon on the other. As the man left, we pulled our chairs up. I rested my arms on the table and smiled as I realized how happy we were just to be together. So the fun began as we chatted and looked over our menus. Soon an overly tan waiter came to take our drink order and tell us what food was available. Because I work in a restaurant, I'm always very observant when I'm in that environment. The waiter was nice and helpful.. Bryana approved- check. The waiter left only to return in a few minutes. Brandon decided on a kids breakfast.. the silver five. Five silver dollar pancakes, eggs, and bacon. I want to be a kid again! Brittany and I agreed that we would share four strawberry pancakes. You know, I really should have asked myself if I was hungry before going to eat. Special occasion- make room. Chat, laugh, listen, repeat that was pretty much the order of events until the food arrived. The waiter was good.. he split the strawberry pancakes onto two plates. You know, I really don't remember the food because it didn't sit in front of me very long. That's usually an indicator that it was really good. Really any food outside the college cafeteria is still a treat. I pulled out the money that I just made and slid it in the little black folder with the check. Appreciating the service, I pulled a pen out of my purse too and wrote "Thank You Ryan" on the top of the check, hoping that was his name. After I wrote it I questioned myself aloud. Brittany and Brandon weren't sure either. Going with my gut feeling I closed the little book and awaited his return. The familiar face returned to the table and my eyes went straight to his name tag which read "Ricky". I soon realized that Brittany and Brandon noticed the same thing because they busted out in the laughter I held inside. My cheeks turned red. Ricky left the table and thanks goodness he didn't take the check with him. I grabbed the book as Brittany and Brandon continued to chuckle and tore off the top where I had written to Ryan. I rewrote "Thank You Ricky" at the bottom. In laughter we left, passed the security guard at the door once again, and drove away from the International House of Pancakes. One hilarious jam session to Kelly Clarkson's "Since You've Been Gone" got us home around 1:30. When I called it a night my abs still hurt from laughing.

Oh IHOP.....if you haven't been yet...you've gotta try it!

The Kitty Haunts

Newsflash: The world's all about money. I always know that, but somehow feel like I need it slammed into my face every now and then so I can lose the optimism that seems to conquer on occasion. It goes like this: "The world is a lovely place with good people!" then a bitchslap into reality. Thanks, world, I needed that. I imagine Morgan Freeman's voice answering, "You're welcome."
My big bro comes in last night and is using my computer to look up something. I'm talking about myself, my favorite topic, and completely consumed in what I'm talking about until I politely ask what he is doing.
Well apparently the Vicious Murder of An Innocent Kitty Case is back into action because the other guy involved (see crackhead-resembling mugshot #2 on the news) is being charged with a felony.
He decided to go into hiding over the weekend.
That's right, ladies and gentlemen, the cat killer is on the loose. Take your kitties inside and lock them up or they will be slaughtered like something from Texas Chainsaw Massacre! Find them and hide them before they are all gone and dogs shall rule the world!
The police have a warrant out, and I truly hope they are doing more productive things with their time than looking for Scott.
He didn't kill the president, a major world leader, or even Brian Spaulding. No, it was a cat that he went into hiding for.
By the way, where do people go when they go into hiding? Is there a cave in Indiana labeled as such? Bomb shelters? I bet they stay with friends, just so that they have someone to go to the movies with.
So I'm sitting there, as my brother looks concerned (my brother has one mode-chill-when he strays, I get worried) and I am thinking Wal-mart blows.
Really it blows.
I went there the other day for cereal. I am addicted to their animal crackers.
Can you tell me why the hell I still shop there? My brother was drug through nails for that corporation. My family was, really.
Because I'm all about money.
My lovely IGA boss, Larry gives speeches against Wal-mart, and doesn't shop there because he has beliefs and stands by them. They ruin stores- like Buy Low which claimed bankruptcy.
He isn't all about money.
You've heard of the big bad corporation, and we all still worship it.
I know I do.
Like Brian- I'm not picking on him because I'm obviously doing the same thing, but they didn't give him a job. I have no idea why because he is overqualified, but he still stopped there to spend money.
And why not? They are right on the way home, and it's so much cheaper. You can make all your dreams come true with one stop.
Yes, I'm complaining, and no, I'm not going to do anything about it. Too much trouble-I'm lazy.
I hate being bitchslapped.

Complaining about Complaining

Today I made and packaged exactly 68,342 plastic caps alongside a woman named Tammy.
I have no idea where these caps will go, and would die happier if I never saw another 78182 code color blue cap in my damn life, but this is not about the job, it is about Tammy.
And Donna.
And complaining.
Yes, my friends, this is a blog complaining about those who complain. Hypocritical? Just a tad.
We have to wear these smock/shirts to work, which apparently is new because there is an extreme uproar of all society as we know it. I do believe that my trainer, Miss Tammy, managed to talk to every single person in the plant about how much she disliked the smocks.
Said to the tune of a whiny voice:
"They are hotttttt." (Um, was she working? No, I do believe that it was me running the machine by myself on my first day with jeans on as she ran around complaining to people)
"They bleed through to my white shiiirrrtt." (Dear god lady put the smock back on!)
"They look like we are in a bowling league!" (Okay I agreed with her here)
"What's next? No shorts?!" (If I were in charge, that would be my rule so as not to see everyone's crazily pasty legs)
Tammy complained because 'she had rights, damn it!' and because she was avoiding work.
Donna, however, complained to fill the silence.
Big no-no. After 8 hours, me-practically a Quaker- almost decked her. She was someone's grandma and I seriously could have knocked her out.
Perhaps it is the hot environment, or perhaps it is the fact that my uncle is the plant manager and maybe even helped iniate the smocks, but complaining today was not my cup of tea.
Which is why I'm complaining about it.
Really, though, why do we complain? It certainly won't change things. My blogging about it will not make Tammy or Donna appreciate their jobs and love living.
Oh yah- because it's fun.
Hoorah for complaining/ ew I hate complainers.
PS. I have a conscience and I cannot let this go-I lied, I'm not practically a Quaker. Whew, relief.

Is Pure Nonsense Allowed?!

Ooh ooh... I get to be the caboose!

Well, Brian, Di, and Cory have all made posts so I thought I ought to get on the ball here. Haha. Diane I am procrastinating as we speak. I'd write a blog before a paper any day! Please remember as you read on (if you've made it this far) that this was written while watching the Divine Decrets of the YaYa Sisterhood on TNT so heaven knows what the actual subject matter will consist of.

Haha. Okay I owe it to myself to first write about what is on my mind at the moment. JELLYBEANS! Brian and I (and probably Cory too) have an obsession with Starburst Jellybeans, and oh my they are terrific. Brian came to visit BU last weekend and was so sweet as to bring a bag. Brian.. I am now addicted!! So, instead of giving into my craving I just have to get one thing out of my system.

Ode to a Starburst Jelly Bean ( to the tune of O' Christmas Tree- Don't be embarassed.. just sing it...loud and proud!)
O Jelly Bean, O Jelly Bean
How ever sweet your flavor.
A sugar confection colored bright
Perfection, yes.. you taste so right
O Jelly Bean, O Jelly Bean
I love that Starburst flavor.

Haha..I hope you had as much fun with that as I just did. WOW.. I must need sleep.

Guys...I'm not sure if I can be a part of this blog. Can I be redirected to "Pure Nonsense"? I'll do my best to keep it in line from this point on. Just wanted to get some crazies out on my first write.

You'd think I'd write more now, but I'm really exhausted.

Goodnight everyone.
Over and Out,
Bry

An Undiscovered Art

I truly believe there is an art to procrastination. I must first say that there is a great difference between procrastination and laziness. Laziness would be not really wanting to get your work done, and not doing it. This isn't the case with procrastination at all, really. In fact, the art is quite complex.
First you must decide that procrastination is for you, and you can work hard enough to succeed at this. Failure is laziness. To decide if procrastination is for you, if you answer yes to these questions you are allowed to enter the journey of learning the art:
1. When you have 3 hours to work, do you not produce better work than if you just had one?
2. Are you a pressure-driven genius?
3. Do you waste entire days not having fun in order to finish homework you never finish anyway?

If you answered yes, then you should proceed as such:
Figure out what you really want to do to be happy a day that you have a project to do.
Set aside a small amount of time at the last possible minute, drink some caffeine, and do a brilliant job on this project.
Relax and write random blogs about the art of procrastination for the rest of the time that you have because you already have this under control.

If you answered no, you should've stopped reading a long time ago in order to spend hours on homework that you won't get done.

Yes, I am indeed writing this in order to not study for my chemistry exam.