I No Longer Have the Only Say in the Matter...

Fantastic news!

BossLady started her own blog tonight.

The sad thing is, this is no longer a one-sided story. She finally gets a say (I may as well get used to that!) in what goes on.


Check out her blog at

http://talesfromthedarkroom.blogspot.com/


Welcome aboard, Babe!!!

Open Open Open

Black Friday is almost here.



Six Days, one hour and twenty minutes as I type this.



Oh joy.



Kids screaming, grown women fighting over toys, fathers asking where the nearest bar is...



Gods, I love humanity.







Black Friday conjures up some pretty interesting ideas. I plan on writing about some of my more memorable ones later next week (when BossLady is in Vegas partying up while I stay home and slave away...). Believe me. If you haven't worked a retail Black Friday, you won't believe the stories.



This year I am already exhausted. I have been replacing people on my store team for various reasons, and as a result, I am in the dreaded spot of training new hires the week of Thanksgiving. It's going to be a memorable year.





Those of you who have worked retail know that this is the time of year you dread, but at the same time, it's why you work. To me, it is the single most fun day of the year. The traffic is amazing. The people are funny, either intentionally or accidentally. The pace is amazing. And the numbers unbelievable.





Several years ago, Mervyn's ran an ad campaign for this where a lady was standing outside the store going "open, open, open" at something like three in the morning. It was clearly before the employees were supposed to be at work.



I HATED that ad.



It wasn't until years later that I learned people really do shit like that. I had to fight to get to the door of the store I was working at to get in and get the place running so those idiots could come trash the place.



Fun stuff.







Anyway... more later on some of my observations, both this year and years past.

Fires, Part II

I promised pics that BossLady took with her phone. Here they are. Bear in mind, she took these in the early part of the afternoon.

The air here has gotten better, so there is light at the end of the tunnel.

Fire

By now I am sure everyone has heard of the fires here in Southern California. Part of the news coverage strikes me as sensationalism. Other parts strike me that they are downplaying it.

Bottom Line: Pretty Fucking Scary.

I know. BossLady and I live in a community where one of the fires is/was.

Here's the scoop.

Yesterday (Saturday), I was out running some errands before going to work, and I saw smoke coming from the area near where the Santiago Canyon Fire was in Irvine this time last year. I literally called home and said that the canyon was on fire again. I was apparently wrong. This fire started near Corona, or so the news reported.

All day yesterday, I watched the smoke cloud growing and moving towards my home. It was nerve wracking just watching and wondering and not knowing. All I got was snippets from customers, and while some was accurate, some was way off base. Frustrating.

I can only imagine what BossLady was thinking at home. She told me all she did was watch the news and watch the smoke cloud out the window and try not asphyxiate.

Driving home last night wasn't fun. As I was driving down Jamboree in Irvine/Tustin, I could see the glow (and some of the fire) from the Sylmar (aka Sayre) fire, over 70 miles to the north. It gave me a false sense of safety, since I couldn't see any light from the "Freeway Complex/Triangle Complex/Corona" fire (or whatever they are naming it this hour). The smoke was just unreal. It looked like it was snowing, but the temperatures were still in the 80's.

Driving the 55, I finally came to the 91 interchange, and as I came over the connector, I could see the entire ridge to the north of Yorba Linda/Brea just lit up. I could see flames leaping, smoke billowing and the smell was just lethal.

I got home, went inside, and BossLady was glued to the TV. The news was just terrible. By now, I am sure that everyone has seen the images by now, so I won't recap them. What was terrifying was that they were talking about places just 3 to 8 miles from my home and saying it was moving our direction. Evacuations were just blocks from here.

We finally went to bed last night wondering if we were going to get the knock on our door telling us to leave. We had packed several "emergency to go" bags just in case it happened. I know I woke up several times and peeked at the news coverage, and BossLady confessed to me that she woke up and checked the Internet for updates.

Not an easy night.

Anyway, we woke up to discover that the winds had changed, and the fire moved away from us. Relief for us, bummer for the people in Diamond Bar.

The fires were aided by the Santa Ana winds. These are high winds that come down off the mountains (gusts up to 80 miles an hour) and HOT! As the winds come down the hills, they get warmer. Add that to our already hot day (record heat in the area) with temps in the 90s in the area, it's just not a good day in the neighborhood.

Tonight, BossLady and I went less than a mile to the grocery store on Yorba Linda Boulevard. The difference in air quality was dramatic. It was like going to something from a holocaust movie. Just unreal.

As I type this, the fires are getting under control. Once again, the firefighters here in Orange County and Los Angeles County kick ass. These guys have balls the size of King Kong.

I do hope that if the fires were arson, that they get the guys who started them and seriously fry them. I hope they suffer like each family that they have left homeless. I hope they sit in fear like every family that sat glued to the TV last night wondering if they should flee.

The pictures I have put with this are ones I took with my cell phone. A couple are from Irvine, about 20 miles from the fire in Corona/Yorba Linda. All you see is the smoke cloud, but it's bad enough. The others were taken from the streets near my home this morning, and the other was taken from the 91 freeway this morning.

BossLady is sending me some more pics that she took with her phone. They are much more dramatic as they were closer to the action (the cloud she photographed was only about 7 miles away).

To all that were directly affected by this mess, I hope for the best for you. I know that OC rallied around the fire victims last year, and I hope they do the same this time. If you know anyone in the area who may be affected, please reach out to them and let them know you care. It makes a difference.

The Urban Dictionary (http://www.urbandictionary.com/) defines alcohol the following ways (and this is a very limited selection of their definitions).

1.alcohol

The cause of, and solution to all life's problems. To ALCOHOL: The cause of, and solution to all life's problems.

2.alcohol

A substance found in beer (except American beer) and several other beverages that makes you excessively happy, sad, belligerent or horny. It allows white men to dance and ugly men to get laid (when given to their victim). You wanna get with that hottie? You're gonna need lots of alcohol!

3.alcohol

Liquid Panty Remover

"Man alcohol is like liquid panty remover, you see that hot drunk chick over there, she's gonna get boned tonight."

4.Alcohol

The antidote to reality. reality is for people that can't handle drugs and alcohol.

My district at work won a contest back in August/September for the Back to School Season, and my company just recently got around to giving us our prize money. We had several options as to what to do with it. One was go to Knotts Berry Farm and toss our cookies. Another was a bowling party. 24 Managers in our district decided on Dave and Busters to practice bending the elbows.

Fun.

I learned something (again) tonight.

24 Managers can drink our DM into bankruptcy.

The above pictures are just a little blurry because that's how I was (am) when I took them with my cell phone. It was a good time, and yes, our bar tab was over $1800. Unlike the last time we did this, I wasn't the last one out this time.

Have a good weekend.

I am off to have another beer or sober up.

Or both.

We've Got Big Balls

The crazy people are all over the place.


BossLady and I went bowling tonight, and while I am beating the living crap outta her, two mothers and four boys (the oldest being MAYBE 10 years old) start playing on the lanes next to us.

Okay...


BossLady knows I am not a big fan of kids. Some can be fantastic, well behaved and a great sign of the things to come. Others? C'mon people, invest in some birth control or parenting classes, please.


BossLady was enjoying a rare time when she was beating me (barely). About this time, the boys (all four of them) decide that the lanes they are on are not enough. They started running down their lanes (onto the playing surface!) and the youngest (maybe 5 years old) started break dancing on the approaches, right into where we were playing. A couple of times, I almost kicked them during my turns. Another time, each of us came close to hitting the boys with our back swings with our balls.

To make matters worse, each of the mothers was taking flash photos during the games.


Think about this. People throwing big balls being suddenly blinded. I was seriously tempted to "accidentally" throw the ball the wrong way... say... towards the photographer. Sounds like fair play to me.

BossLady did the smart thing. She told one of the mothers to control her kids or that I was likely to do my best Rambo impersonation on her boys.


The bowling alley finally agreed to our request to change lanes for the safety of the boys.





Some of you may laugh at BossLady and I for bowling, but too fucking bad. We took it up earlier this year as something for us to do together outside the home. We got so into it that we broke down and got balls of our own, shoes, etc. Eventually, we will find time after all the wedding planning and whatnot to join a league.

I routinely beat her ass.

So we have started a new scoring method now. We both still go for our personal bests, but now the winner is the one who gets the highest over their average. I'm still gonna smoke her.

I used to bowl on leagues growing up. When I lived in Antioch, CA, a friend got me into a bowling league. I loved it. When we moved to Kansas City, their was a bowling alley on Richards-Gebaur AFB where we lived, so I bowled there as well. I got involved in theatre in high school, so I dropped it for a while. When Mom got transferred to Marine Corps HQ in Washington, DC, I joined her Marine Corps intramural league. I loved it.

Throughout college, I bowled for kicks with friends whenever the mood struck us. But I stopped after graduating college.

BossLady's idea to go play last spring really struck a good cord with me.

And people wonder why I dropped the Big Q on her?

Baby Bombs

Baby Bomb: (n)-- The loaded diaper of an infant. Usually falling in the 1o-15 pound fully-loaded range. It's nothing short of toxic waste, and just as hard to dispose of. Pampers ain't kidding folks.





Kids in stores are a bad mix.


Infants in stores are scary.


Bad parents and the above should just be criminal.





Today started like any other Monday in my store. Quiet. A few people from the shopping complex bounce in and talk about the economy for a few before heading off to their jobs. A couple of yuppie parents come in shopping with their preschool kids. Nothing glamorous, nothing shocking.


Somewhere mid-morning, a mother comes in with her infant (I can't guess the boys' age. He isn't talking yet, and barely walking) in a stroller. The first thing she does is take the boy out of the stroller and lets him walk around.


Then it gets scary.


The mother wanders off to shop for herself in the aisle with her size, leaving the infant boy to play by the front door, completely ignoring him!


That isn't a misprint.


The child starts trying to push the door open. Another parent in the store takes the child back to the mother. She turns him loose immediately.


The child now starts pulling items off the bottom shelves and chews (teethes?) on them, ruining over $200 worth of merchandise.


I take the twit back to her and ask her to please watch her child as she could be liable for the damaged product.


She doesn't speak English (conveniently).


I walk away, with child firmly in mother's grasp.


Not more than two minutes later, the boy is behind my counter chewing on the extra cordless phone and trying to fry his measly little gonads on the power cables hidden under the counter. Mother is nowhere to be found.


I finally convince young Tokyo Jones to leave the counter (and give me my phone back) and find his mother, mostly by smiling and saying "find mommy" with little result.


Out with the Windex to clean all the baby slobber off my store. As I start cleaning the counter where Little Mr. Slobber Fest has been, I notice a rather pungent aroma. I don't like it. The kid bunny'd under my counter?!?! Damn little fart broke wind like a rabid hurricane! Now I need to go buy some Febreeze!


I look up to see that the Slobber Bomb has tried to walk out the store again. This time, I tell his mother to please put the child back in the stroller and keep an eye on the brat or I will call the police for child endangerment. She stares at me blankly. Real winner here.


I go up to the front of my store to ring a purchase for another customer. They ask me if I would like them to call child protective services. I thank them, and tell them that I have it under control, all the while wishing I could drop this kid like a three foot putt.


By now, Junior has planted himself by the accessory items by my front register. The aroma I noticed earlier is getting very strong. (I mean, it was killing the fake plants type strong.) The little Beelzebub was sitting there putting anything he could into his mouth. Shoe laces, spray cans... you name it. I quickly grab everything I can and move it out of his reach (or so I think).


By now, the mother has finally realized that her darling little angel is creating hell, and she is about to get the bill. This is after half an hour. And I thought I was slow on the uptake with kids.


Mother finally comes over and picks up her boy. As she lifts him into his stroller, I discover that the smell is indeed him. His diaper is full. And by full, I mean it LITERALLY was overflowing the top of his diaper and down his pants.


That, my friends, is a nuclear baby bomb first class.










On a side note, I am looking for to post stories for Black Friday. Send me your horror stories. I have a few of my own, but would love to get other people in the action!