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tinhuvielMy day started out at 5 AM. The clock went off and my sorry arse oozed out of bed, unwilling to deal with the fact that I had to be at work at the bakery at 6. But I pulled myself together and plastered a smile on my face, and off I went to Ingles.
I got to the bakery at 5:45. Having some time, I decided to take some pictures of the front of the store, and then the bakery front. It was still dark when I got to work. A person shouldn't have to be at a grocery store before the sun even comes up. It's a damn shame.
I figured my bakery pal Johnny would be there, since Teresa had the entire weekend off, but he wasn't. The new chick, Jennifer, was there instead, frying up doughnuts like a crazy woman. I was a little disappointed because Johnny makes the absolute best glazed croissants. Jennifer comes in a close second, though, I have to hand it to her. My tastebuds glowed with approval as I shoved that croissant into my mouth like a homeless person. Johnny came in about an hour after I got there, which meant the other five hours I had to spend in the bakery went by much quicker than I expected. Even though he was born the year I graduated, Johnny is smart, funny, and damned easy on the eyes.
While Johnny baked bread and I glazed 800 cinnamon rolls (200 4-packs of cinnamon rolls, yikes!), we told jokes, discussed conspiracy theories, and bitched about work. A good time was had by all. Well maybe not all, but Johnny and I had a hell of a time. Teresa came in to the bakery later in the morning to do her weekly paperwork. She's sick with a bladder infection and has been out of work since Thursday. I asked how she was when she came in and expressed genuine concern for her well-being because, as I've said in the past, I like Teresa. When I was getting ready to leave, she apologised for not asking how I was doing since my wreck, then asked how I was. I told her lots better and thanked her for asking. Then I added, "You've been a lot nicer to me than Rebecca Ramp (the store manager and resident haint) was when I came into the store to check my work schedule. Instead of asking how I was, if I were any better, how my car fared in the wreck, or anything like that, she asked, 'Are you going to make it into work this weekend?' I came this close," and I used my thumb and forefinger to indicate how close, " to telling her 'no, because I quit, bitch!'" Teresa said she was glad I didn't and asked me to please not quit. When I do leave Ingles, I'll be having a nice talk with Rebecca as to the reason for my leaving, telling her that I'm going to be writing a nice and very eloquent letter to Mr. Ingle himself, telling him what a wonderful manager she is, and giving examples of her unique and people-winning managerial skills. Hell, I'm a misanthrope from waaaay back and I'm still better at dealing with people than that horrible person ever will be. I have a theory as to why she is the way she is, but I'll save that for another time. Anyway, I worked until 12, at which time I left the bakery and went to the Barnyard Flea Market, where Aunt Tudi was selling stuff to try to make up enough money for our light bill, which was about $30 more than we expected it to be. She'd been there since around 9 this morning so, when I got there, she'd made a cool $70. While I was sitting with her, this woman came up and started perusing the CDs. I saw her eyeball Shriekback's The Y Records Years, then set it to one side, so I piped up and told her that I'd let her have that CD for fifty cents. "Why? You don't like that band?"
"No!" I replied. "I love Shriekback! I'm just trying to spread their sonic goodness around as much as possible."
So the lady asked some about them, and I told her that, if she liked 80s New Wave, Funk, or anything experimental, she may find Shriekback a tasty musical treat. She wanted to know why I was selling the CD, and I told her that I had quite a few of that title still at home, that I'd gotten them years ago when we had been running a promotional project on the Shriekback Digital Conspiracy website and mailing list. We chatted a little more and, before she left, I asked her to let me know what she thought of the Shrieks' music the next time she saw me, or to just drop me an email if she felt so inclined. She ended up buying $17.00 worth of CDs and I threw in the Shriek CD for free. Ha!
After she left, I decided to pull out Son of iGor and listen to some tunes while I roamed the flea market to see what I could see and maybe what the camera could see as well. Here's the result:
Now playing...
Our next door neighbour at the flea market. He looks like a bar fight waiting to happen.
My future ride, if I ever have $1400 + tax to fork over!
The the back of an idiot's vehicle. This person was at the flea market, probably having to sell their most prized possessions just to buy gas for this gas hog (it was a van of some sort, not a truck as suggested by the logo), yet they're still supporting the dude who will make certain that they'll have to come back to the flea market to sell more stuff just to get by. Why? Why O why? A person may ask. Well, the answer lies in the lower right-hand corner of this picture. See that fish symbol with the little cross for an eye? Yep. That's why this moron is a McCain supporter. This moron is a Dominionist. I'd bet my life on it! These coneheads will support any Right Wing butthole, no questions asked, because the Right Wing and Dominionism go hand in hand in this country, and especially here in the South. What a pile of hot, steaming shit.
Here are a couple of shops that can be found at the Barnyard.
Of course, there were all sorts of animals on the "auction block" as 't'were. I try to ignore them all because it torques me to no end how our fellow Earthlings are treated by the dregs of human society in places like this, but these Dachshunds demanded I fiddle with them through the cage wire. When they caught a whiff of my cinnamon bun fingers, they were on me like a freckle. The black Doxie was a bit too enthusiastic in her chewing and almost broke my skin with her needle teeth. Cute aren't they?
I wound myself in and out of the ebb and flow of humanity to make my way back to our table. As I neared home base, I decided to grab a shot of the family from afar. Here's one I got of my aunt, Janice, Uncle Michael, and Aunt Tudi.
As I got closer, Aunt Tudi gave a friendly wave.
After that friendly wave, we packed up and left that den of iniquity and brought our tired arses home. Aunt Tudi is now napping on the couch and I'm here watching Titanic, of all things. I just watch it for Propeller-Man. The movie makes me weep uncontrollably, which pisses me off. Sith don't cry at movies, unless one of us is being sliced in half by a stupid Padawan tackhead with luck on his side. But that's another rant for another time, I guess.
Tomorrow promises more of the same, at least in regard to the bakery. I work from 6 to 10. When I get off work, I'm dashing by Gwen's to chop on Fat Boy Boo-Boo's toe nails. Then it's home for a wee rest before heading in to Sally Foster.
I got to the bakery at 5:45. Having some time, I decided to take some pictures of the front of the store, and then the bakery front. It was still dark when I got to work. A person shouldn't have to be at a grocery store before the sun even comes up. It's a damn shame.
I figured my bakery pal Johnny would be there, since Teresa had the entire weekend off, but he wasn't. The new chick, Jennifer, was there instead, frying up doughnuts like a crazy woman. I was a little disappointed because Johnny makes the absolute best glazed croissants. Jennifer comes in a close second, though, I have to hand it to her. My tastebuds glowed with approval as I shoved that croissant into my mouth like a homeless person. Johnny came in about an hour after I got there, which meant the other five hours I had to spend in the bakery went by much quicker than I expected. Even though he was born the year I graduated, Johnny is smart, funny, and damned easy on the eyes.
While Johnny baked bread and I glazed 800 cinnamon rolls (200 4-packs of cinnamon rolls, yikes!), we told jokes, discussed conspiracy theories, and bitched about work. A good time was had by all. Well maybe not all, but Johnny and I had a hell of a time. Teresa came in to the bakery later in the morning to do her weekly paperwork. She's sick with a bladder infection and has been out of work since Thursday. I asked how she was when she came in and expressed genuine concern for her well-being because, as I've said in the past, I like Teresa. When I was getting ready to leave, she apologised for not asking how I was doing since my wreck, then asked how I was. I told her lots better and thanked her for asking. Then I added, "You've been a lot nicer to me than Rebecca Ramp (the store manager and resident haint) was when I came into the store to check my work schedule. Instead of asking how I was, if I were any better, how my car fared in the wreck, or anything like that, she asked, 'Are you going to make it into work this weekend?' I came this close," and I used my thumb and forefinger to indicate how close, " to telling her 'no, because I quit, bitch!'" Teresa said she was glad I didn't and asked me to please not quit. When I do leave Ingles, I'll be having a nice talk with Rebecca as to the reason for my leaving, telling her that I'm going to be writing a nice and very eloquent letter to Mr. Ingle himself, telling him what a wonderful manager she is, and giving examples of her unique and people-winning managerial skills. Hell, I'm a misanthrope from waaaay back and I'm still better at dealing with people than that horrible person ever will be. I have a theory as to why she is the way she is, but I'll save that for another time. Anyway, I worked until 12, at which time I left the bakery and went to the Barnyard Flea Market, where Aunt Tudi was selling stuff to try to make up enough money for our light bill, which was about $30 more than we expected it to be. She'd been there since around 9 this morning so, when I got there, she'd made a cool $70. While I was sitting with her, this woman came up and started perusing the CDs. I saw her eyeball Shriekback's The Y Records Years, then set it to one side, so I piped up and told her that I'd let her have that CD for fifty cents. "Why? You don't like that band?"
"No!" I replied. "I love Shriekback! I'm just trying to spread their sonic goodness around as much as possible."
So the lady asked some about them, and I told her that, if she liked 80s New Wave, Funk, or anything experimental, she may find Shriekback a tasty musical treat. She wanted to know why I was selling the CD, and I told her that I had quite a few of that title still at home, that I'd gotten them years ago when we had been running a promotional project on the Shriekback Digital Conspiracy website and mailing list. We chatted a little more and, before she left, I asked her to let me know what she thought of the Shrieks' music the next time she saw me, or to just drop me an email if she felt so inclined. She ended up buying $17.00 worth of CDs and I threw in the Shriek CD for free. Ha!
After she left, I decided to pull out Son of iGor and listen to some tunes while I roamed the flea market to see what I could see and maybe what the camera could see as well. Here's the result:
Now playing...
Our next door neighbour at the flea market. He looks like a bar fight waiting to happen.
My future ride, if I ever have $1400 + tax to fork over!
The the back of an idiot's vehicle. This person was at the flea market, probably having to sell their most prized possessions just to buy gas for this gas hog (it was a van of some sort, not a truck as suggested by the logo), yet they're still supporting the dude who will make certain that they'll have to come back to the flea market to sell more stuff just to get by. Why? Why O why? A person may ask. Well, the answer lies in the lower right-hand corner of this picture. See that fish symbol with the little cross for an eye? Yep. That's why this moron is a McCain supporter. This moron is a Dominionist. I'd bet my life on it! These coneheads will support any Right Wing butthole, no questions asked, because the Right Wing and Dominionism go hand in hand in this country, and especially here in the South. What a pile of hot, steaming shit.
Here are a couple of shops that can be found at the Barnyard.
Of course, there were all sorts of animals on the "auction block" as 't'were. I try to ignore them all because it torques me to no end how our fellow Earthlings are treated by the dregs of human society in places like this, but these Dachshunds demanded I fiddle with them through the cage wire. When they caught a whiff of my cinnamon bun fingers, they were on me like a freckle. The black Doxie was a bit too enthusiastic in her chewing and almost broke my skin with her needle teeth. Cute aren't they?
I wound myself in and out of the ebb and flow of humanity to make my way back to our table. As I neared home base, I decided to grab a shot of the family from afar. Here's one I got of my aunt, Janice, Uncle Michael, and Aunt Tudi.
As I got closer, Aunt Tudi gave a friendly wave.
After that friendly wave, we packed up and left that den of iniquity and brought our tired arses home. Aunt Tudi is now napping on the couch and I'm here watching Titanic, of all things. I just watch it for Propeller-Man. The movie makes me weep uncontrollably, which pisses me off. Sith don't cry at movies, unless one of us is being sliced in half by a stupid Padawan tackhead with luck on his side. But that's another rant for another time, I guess.
Tomorrow promises more of the same, at least in regard to the bakery. I work from 6 to 10. When I get off work, I'm dashing by Gwen's to chop on Fat Boy Boo-Boo's toe nails. Then it's home for a wee rest before heading in to Sally Foster.
