Not Your Average Wiener

As I was shopping at the grocery store the other day, I happened upon a jar of wieners.

What's that you ask? Did I just say a jar of wieners?

Why, yes, yes I did.

But they aren't just ANY wieners. No, no. They are Germany's #1 brand of "extra crunchy" wieners. [Is there any other kind?] That's right. Packed in brine and selling for the low, low price of $6.29.

Really? I mean, dare I say it...

WTH?!

Maybe it's just me, but I find this rather odd. And I'm not sure what is more disturbing to me: the fact that these wieners are in a jar; or, the fact that they are "extra crunchy" and packed in brine to boot.

Dude. Wieners should not be a jar. Nor should they be crunchy. Like, ever.

And come on now, $6.29? For FIVE crunchy wieners? 

Seriously. No wiener is worth that. None of them. 

But hey, it did make for an interesting trip to the grocery store. And a blog post. That's something.

Things I Don't Understand 1-24

It's time to purge again, folks...to unburden myself from the random and yet utterly annoying Things I Don't Understand as I encounter them in my day-to-day life. So pull up a chair, if you're not in one already, and let's have a little looksee, shall we?

People who park their carts at the store in the middle of the aisle, then walk to look at stuff on one side of the aisle, effectively blocking all traffic in either direction until they're finished. I mean, seriously? Why must they do this? WHY?! I swear sometimes I just wanna ram my cart into their cart so freaking bad and scream as I get past them, "just take your cart with you, for the love of God!" 

Parents who let their children turn around and stare at you while you're eating in a restaurant. Yeah, your child might be cute and all, but do I want to stare at him/her while I'm trying to eat? No. There's this thing called manners. You should maybe learn them and then share them with your child. Just sayin.

Men whose jeans are way too tight. Because. Ew. And because you really might want your sperm at some point later on.

People the Hubs who watch certain movies Transformers over and over and over again and yet complain when you want to watch a movie that you've seen before. If I want to watch Pitch Perfect for the 24th time, then the person who's seen Transformers 37 times should not be asking, "haven't we seen this before?"

Rampant misuse of the apostrophe. My big pet peeve here is when people put an apostrophe on plural words. It's maddening, I tell you, simply maddening. So hopefully this will help those of you out, who are sometimes in doubt, about how to use an apostrophe.

And lastly, I really do not understand telemarketers. In this day and age, with all of our technological wonders, why can we not put an end to telemarketing? It baffles me. And I have a personal and poignant message to the select callers that seem to call my home repeatedly, either daily or multiple times per week:

That's all the things I don't understand for this week, folks. Have a fab weekend. :)

Shopping for School Supplies at Wal Mart

OK, so I was shopping for some school supplies for my grandson, Dylan yesterday at Wal Mart. Yes, I'm sorry. I shop at Wal Mart. I'm not proud of it. But there are limited choices when you live in small town USA, so I wear my shame on my sleeve when amongst the people of Wal Mart.

Anyhoots, as I turned the corner on an aisle during my Shopping Misadventures in Wally World, I happened upon an endcap of must-have school supplies. So I quickly snapped a pic and turned it into a fun little meme for your Tinalicious enjoyment.

I'm guessing those flasks are for the moms?

Either that or school has changed a lot since I was there.

Or maybe not.

Creative Advertising for Dummies

OK, I just want to preface this post by saying that I am not a dummy. I'm an educated woman--and I have over $70K in student loan debt to prove it (and will gladly accept donations in my never-ending quest to pay off that debt before I die--though that is far from likely to happen).

Anyhoots, point is, I'm not stupid. But I do have those moments where I just wanna kick myself in my highly educated ass.

Case in point: spent the day shopping in Fort Wayne on Saturday with the Hubs for our 29th anniversary weekend. And as we were driving around, I saw a gas station with gas prices that appeared to be over 20 cents cheaper per gallon than what they were back at home. Gas was $3.69 when I'd looked Friday evening at home. And the price on the sign at the FW gas station appeared to be $3.42 a gallon for Unleaded, and then $3.57 for the mid-grade.

(Notice that I've said 'appeared to be' twice now?)

So it seemed a good idea, since we had less than half a tank of gas, to just go ahead and fill up so we could save over 20 cents a gallon by doing so.

It appeared to be the logical thing to do.

So we stop at that gas station and as the Hubs starts to pump the gas, I run into the store to grab an overpriced beverage. And upon my return, the Hubs sees me and says, "you should read that sign again...carefully." And so I do, and then I see the problem. Can you see it?

See the problem there? The $3.42 price is NOT the price of regular unleaded by itself--no, it is the price if you also buy a Car Wash. Now seriously, that is some creative advertising. But...

Granted, the people of Fort Wayne are probably onto this gas station's tricks, so this kind of creative advertising isn't for the locals; it is for us dummies from out of town, who will drive by and happen to see that $3.42 price at the top and ASSume that is price of unleaded gas, and then be stupid enough to start pumping before we realize our mistake. And interestingly enough, there was another gas station right across the street from this one, with the same exact type of advertising tactic going on. But nowhere else in FW did we see this happening. So clearly, the one gas station did it, and then the guy across the street said, 'dammit, why didn't I think of that?!,' and decided he should start screwing the out-of-towners too!

Seriously? I mean, come on. You can screw with me in a lot of ways and I'll just let it go. But in this day and age, when filling up a gas tank costs about the same as going to the doctor, this kind of screw-the-consumer tactic is just beyond unacceptable. It is...

Consider me schooled though. I learned my lesson and will pay a lot closer attention to gas station price signs from this point forward. But as for you 'creative advertisers...'

Or maybe not so quietly.

Sam's Club Shoppers

So The Hubs and Me, we had some more Shopping Misadventures over the weekend at Sam's Club. It really kind of amazes me sometimes what people wear in public. Even they're not at Wally World (but OK, Sam IS Wally's father). And sometimes the things they do are a little bit bizarre as well.

Let's start with our frugal fashionistas, shall we? One lady I saw was wearing white capris, with patterned underwear. Am I the only person who just knows that you should never wear patterned underwear under anything white? I mean, hello? The print shows right through to the whole entire world. Duh. And even if your ass is hot (hers wasn't, btw), no one wants to see your multi-colored flower-print undies through your pants.  Wouldn't it make more sense to wear either white underwear...or perhaps a thong is in order?

[On second thought, maybe a thong isn't such a good idea.]

Then there was another gal wearing white pants. This was, how shall we say, a "large" gal. And she was clearly proud of her ample supply of cellulite...which, of course, looks magnified under white fabric. Why, oh freaking why, would anyone voluntarily choose to make their cellulite-filled ass look even bigger? I have a big ass myself, so I know what I'm talking about here, and you will never see me in anything white. Ever.

White Pants + Cellulite = Plus Sized Fashion Disaster. Seriously. I just can't stress this enough. I preach it. And I live it.

But the classiest fashionista of the day was the older lady wearing a pink tee, jean capris (clearly it was the day for capris too) and sparkly tennis shoes. I'm guessing that was her way of blinging up her casual summer outfit. She was was wearing silver hoops for ear bling, so perhaps she wanted to tie into that with some silver sparkle foot bling. Because, you know, who doesn't want a little foot bling while they're shopping at Sam's?  I so badly wanted to get a photo of her. I was just about to get my shot but the Hubs was trying to figure out the zoom on his phone's camera at the same time. And stupid me,  I tried to help him and lost my photo op moment all together. Urgh.

Anyhoots, enough about those fiercely scary dressed fashionistas. My other shopping observation of the day occurred in the restroom. And let me start by saying that I don't like public restrooms, so I use them as seldom as possible. And when I do use them I just want to get in, take care of business, and get right back out. It's not a place I want to have, say, a telephone conversation. But the lady in the stall next to me had the exact opposite agenda. Her phone rang, she answered it, and she began chatting away like crazy, completely oblivious to the fact that she's...urinating.

Seriously. When did talking on a cellphone while peeing become OK? And how important is it that you have a conversation during the urination process? Like, really? It can't wait 3 minutes?

This was not a business deal or a family emergency this lady was talking about. She was just chatting about various mundane things. And she never stopped. She washed her hands...or one of them anyway...while still talking on the phone. And she left the bathroom still talking, bumping me on her way out because she was so absorbed in her phone conversation. Though she did manage an apology in between giggles with her cellphone BFF.

The cellphone urinator at least gets some points though. She was wearing, guess what? White capris. And she was a "large" gal too. But at least she had a shirt on that covered her cellulite, and any potentially otherwise visible flower-patterned underwear. So even though she failed miserably at bathroom etiquette, she wins my prize for fashionista of the day.

Meat Department Madness at Wal Mart

OK, so I can't really post this without also exposing the sad and pathetic truth that I occasionally shop at Wally World. So I'll accept all the judgment this entails just to be able to share the madness with you that I encountered while shopping there recently.

The Hubs and I were were grocery shopping, and the grandson was along as well. That always makes for entertaining Shopping Misadventures right there. But things took a sharp turn into madness as we entered the Meat Department that fateful Friday evening. What we saw was simply shocking. Shameless. And seriously F'd up.

What was it, you ask? What got me so worked up in the Meat Department at Wally World that made me question not only their dress code, but also my faith in the future of America? Well, it looked a little something like this...

That's right, people. It was an employee of the Wal Mart Meat Department. Stocking meat. In  Saggy Pants. Boxer shorts laid bare for the entire population of Wally World to see.

Yeah, so this is what a former teacher such as myself would call a teachable moment, considering the 7-year-old grandson was along. So I turned to him, unashamedly pointed out the saggy pants offender (hereafter to be known as the SPO), and said, "See that young man over there? This is exactly how NOT to dress in public."

Dylan looked a tad mortified at what he saw, which made me feel rather proud. And then he just kind of giggled, as if he was genuinely embarrassed for the SPO. Which is a good sign, of course; at least it shows that Dylan not only understands what I was so irked about, it also shows he has compassion for others.

But I honestly had no compassion for that SPO at all. He is old enough to know that dressing like that in public is not only immature, demonstrating a total lack of self-respect, but also a lack of respect for his environment and everyone in it. I mean, his pants were down. His boxer-shorted-ass was hanging out. IN THE MEAT DEPARTMENT. Are there not Health Department codes put in place to protect the public from this kind of thing? And does this young man not have a supervisor or some other superior who should be making sure that he is dressed appropriately for food-handling?

Seriously. WTH?!

Would you want to buy your meat there, with employees who are dressed like that? I think not. Granted, if the employee looked like my favorite vampire, perhaps I'd be a little more forgiving.

Who am I kidding. Twlight be damned. Even seeing RPattz stocking meat at Wal Mart with saggy pants would piss me off! It's gross! (Though isn't it funny and yet predictable how I can work RPattz into a blog post about the Wal Mart Meat Department?)

I just have to end this by laughing a bit, thinking about Wal Mart's little blue vests that beckon...

Help US, Wal Mart? REALLY? You can't even help yourselves.

Adventures in the Air Freshener Aisle

The story I'm about to tell you is real and true. No names will be changed to protect the innocent, because the Hubs is anything but innocent.

So The Hubs and I were shopping at Wally World on Friday, as per our usual Friday night routine. We had our 7-year-old grandson, Dylan with us, as we do every other Friday. You would think that a grown man would use the quality shopping time we share with Dylan to set a good example and behave as any good grandpa would. But does he? Um, no.

Part of the shopping routine for the Hubs and his pint-sized cohort in crime is to find appropriate sized grocery items that they can use to play catch with. And once they find a good item they proceed to toss said item back and forth to each other as we make our way up and down the aisles. Never mind the fact that the person pushing the cart [yes, me] often ends up in the line of fire, turning their all-for-the-sake-of-fun-so-lighten-up-grandma-game into a game of dodge the deodorant...but they also often come just this shy of pelting complete strangers with rogue projectiles in the form of cereal boxes or packages of paper towels.

OK, so I'm used to their little game of catch. And I've become fairly adept at ignoring their juvenile carefree behavior, or pretending that I don't know them, as the need arises. And I guess it could be worse, right? I'm sure there are much more embarrassing things that they--or the Hubs--could do, no? Well, of course there are,  or else there would be nothing to serve as fodder for my blog on this fine Sunday afternoon.

So you just need to picture me, pushing my cart, turning to look for Dylan behind me, and then navigating the turn into the air freshener aisle to find the Hubs. He's standing there, smiling. And he sort of looks like the Cheshire Cat the way he's grinning.

No, not this one...

More like this...

I think we can all agree that a guy does not stand in a grocery store aisle, leaning his arm on a shelf full of air fresheners, wearing a big Cheshire-Cat-Grin for no reason. Of course there is a reason, and before I even had time to ponder what that reason might be, the Hubs enlightens me.

"Good thing this aisle is full of air fresheners."

In appraising his stance, with hiss ass up against the shelves, it takes me less than a second to realize that the Hubs has indeed just farted. In the grocery store. Right up against the vast array of air fresheners.

Yes, a very fine example to be set for the grandson, and the perfect lesson  in anal emission etiquette at the same time (you gotta love a double-duty-tooty): if you're going to fart in the grocery section at Wally World, at least have the decency to do it in the air freshener aisle. And be sure your ass is right up against the shelves, so as to look as inconspicuous as possible while your gaseous expulsion permeates the shelves.

So that was my Friday, and now it's your Sunday.

Enjoy!

Barnes and Noble Book Smeller

I just have to say right off the bat that it takes a lot to shock me anymore. And I mean A LOT. What with TV and the Internet these days, we have access to a lot of shocking stuff and at lightening speed. And this stuff just happens to become less and shocking the more we see it. We become desensitized in a lot of ways, know what I mean?

So you just have to bear this in mind when I tell you about the break that the Hubs and I were taking in the coffee shoppe at Barnes & Noble over the weekend. It started off simply enough...after doing some early Christmas shopping (yes, I am that girl, who does Christmas shopping in October) and feeling a bit parched, we decided to park our butts and have a beverage while we rested our weary bones for a bit.

So I'm sipping my IBC Cream Soda, which, btw, is some of the best cream soda I've ever tasted.  And since I seldom drink pop (why waste perfectly good calories on pop when I could throw them away on pasta...or biscuits...or mashed potatoes--all of which I'd had just an hour earlier at Red Lobster...but I digress) I was just sort of savoring it as I did a little people-watching, natch.

As I was scanning the store, my eyes landed on a person sitting on the opposite side of the coffee shoppe's glass-partition wall. I could only see the back of the person's head (a rather greasy-haired looking head, as I recall), and it seemed to be a man from that vantage point. I noticed he had a book in his hand and was kind of flipping the pages. No big deal. Perhaps he was waiting for someone?

But as my eyes bounced around they kept landing on the greasy-haired man, and as I let my eyes watch him for a longer period, I soon became perplexed. Then befuddled. Then, wait for it...SHOCKED. Yes, shocked. And then seriously, the ick factor actually began to set in. And why, you ask (and I don't blame you since I'm kind of dragging it out for you)? What could possibly have shocked me into the ick factor at Barnes & Noble?

It was because the greasy-haired man was not just mindlessly flipping the pages of a book. No. No. And NO! He was flipping the pages of the book...repeatedly...very close to his face...so he could smell the book. He was visibly and quite deliberately smelling the book, people...and pausing only occasionally to also...sniff...his...fingers.

WTH?! And in this case, I think a WTF is also in order!

Why? I mean, seriously, WHY? Is there something about books I don't know? Or does this dude have a fetish I've just never heard of until now (and dammit I wish I'd been left in the dark about!). Granted, there are worse things the guy could have been sniffing, but still. It's. Just. Icky.

So of course I had to whisper to the Hubs what I had witnessed so that he could gawk and stare like an idiot take a casual glance just as I had. And yeah, we sort of laughed it off, but we were both rather taken aback by the whole scene. So of course we made sure to walk past this man on the way out of the coffee shoppe.

While I personally was too far into the ick factor to let my eyes linger too long as we passed, I looked just long enough to realize that maybe the greasy-haired man was actually a greasy-haired woman. He/She appeared to have boobs, but hey, they could have been man-boobs for all I know.  The hair was short, but the clothing was ambiguous. And I sure wasn't gonna turn back for another look once we'd gotten clear of him/her. I asked the Hubs what he thought, and he couldn't decide if it was a man or a woman either.

But one thing is certain, and I shit you not, people: I was sitting less than 6 feet away from the greasy-haired, androgynous Barnes & Noble Book Smeller!

And how was your weekend?

5 Things Learned from Shopping

Believe it or not, apparently you can learn things as the direct result of a routine  craft-shopping excursion.  And I'm all about shopping misadventures, don'tcha know.  (Be sure to check out one of my favorite  shopping posts, Adventures in Shopping with Goobs.)

Anyhoots, as I ventured off to the big city yesterday (a.k.a. Fort Wayne, Indiana), approximately 50 miles southwest of my humble abode in NW Ohio, little did I know it would turn out to be such a lesson-filled day. But learn, I did. And like it or not I'm here to share my new found knowledge with all of you. So here goes.

1. I have the power of invisibility. No, for real. I do. While standing in front of the magazine rack at JoAnn Fabrics, I backed up a wee bit to allow my field of vision to take in all the magazines on the lower shelves. I mean, it's not possible to see all of the magazines unless you do that, so I did. And in the process I was occasionally bending over to get a better view than my aging eyes would allow me while standing completely erect.  [OK, I admit it, I was determined to include the word erect in my blog post today. 2 points for succeeding. Minus 3 points for getting a juvenile yet jovial chuckle while typing that word.] And as I was standing there perusing the titles, two other women walked over and stopped right in front of me to look at the magazines as well. For a second I thought that it was just a momentary pause on their part as they perhaps were looking for the nearest checkout line. But, um, no. They were going to stand there, about 12 inches in front of me, and just look at the magazines, completely obliterating my view. So that's when I realized that yeah, I have the power of invisibility.


2. I don't have the power of subtlety. If I had that power, then I would have just politely said, "excuse me" to the ladies who blocked my view of the magazines, rather than walking away in a huff  and muttering something about the rudeness of craft-shopping-magazine-Nazis.


3. Crying babies are a staple at every craft store. I was in 3 craft stores yesterday and there was a crying baby in every one. And I don't mean a sweetly soft crying baby; we're talking top-of-the-lungs-bloody-murder-is-this-a-hidden-camera-show-crying-baby, which, if I wasn't already a mother and well-prepared for the sound-barrier-breaking volume that crying babies are capable of, would have scared me straight out of ever wanting to become one.


4. 70-year-old women should not wear Daisy Dukes. On my way home from craft shopping, I spied with my little eye an  older woman, who was very thin and with skin having the appearance of a well-worn leather chair, wearing skin-tight, black and white striped, fraying Daisy Dukes. And no, I am not kidding! If only I'd been at a stoplight when I saw her walking by, because I would have whipped out my cell phone and snagged the photographic evidence to post for your enjoyment, or disgust, as the case may be. But since that image is  forever etched into my memory, I thought it only fair to show you something. So I found the following image on Google that will help to illustrate the horror I felt in that truly unforgettable Daisy Dukes geriatric moment.  One does not have to be Joan Rivers to realize that some fashion statements should never be made. Oy.
   


5. And finally, I also learned something very, very important at the end of my craft-shopping-lesson-filled-adventure. And that is, Taco Bell food should never be eaten while driving. And I think their drive-thru should come with a disclaimer: You Eat It, You Wear It.

Adventures in Shopping with Goobs

The Hubs and I decided to take a trip to the Big City yesterday--also known as Fort Wayne, Indiana. {OK, now, it's not like we live in the sticks or anything, but our town is small compared to FW. } I needed some stuff from the Big Box Mothership--also known as Sam's Club.  So we decided to make a day of it, hit a few stores, grab some grub, and just enjoy a day out of the house. And boy, was it ever the adventure!

I'll say right off, I'm not one that gets into shopping all that much. About the only place I enjoy shopping at is Hobby Lobby or Michaels...and I can spend a couple of hours in either of those places rather easily, losing all track of time. And they were both on the itinerary for the day. But even then it still tests the limits of my physical and psychological endurance when I'm there, especially when I encounter the kind of goobs--also known as morons who shop--I did yesterday.

First up: the Texting While Shopping Goob.

In this day and age, where we do almost everything at the touch of some sort of keypad, these goobs are becoming more and more commonplace. But I don't get it. Why must one text while shopping? Geez, I thought people who actually talked on a cellphone while shopping were annoying goobs, but these texters are downright maddening! Especially considering that they do so at the absolute peril of everyone else in the entire store. The guy I saw yesterday was walking and texting at the same time, and his eyes never left that phone as made his way down the aisles, texting at warp speed. And when I last saw him, he was heading down the Aisle of Glass--also known as the center of Hobby Lobby, where a butt load of breakable glass, and not so must have decor items are displayed, and he was totally oblivious to the shatterable shelves that surrounded him on all sides. Earth to Goob: you break it, you bought it have any kind of meaning to ya, fella?

Next we have the Shopping Cart Aisle Blocking Goob.

We have all been a victim of this goob at least once: you're walking down the aisle, looking for the beer low-cal salad dressing, and all of a sudden you're stuck at a 2-way shopping cart road block. And why? Because some people can't fathom that someone else may also want to come down that same aisle, at the precise moment they park their cart to one side, and walk to get something on the other side of the aisle, which is also being blocked by someone else! Now, I know there is no Etiquette Guide to Shopping Cart Maneuvers for Dummies, but dammit, there ought to be! And to make matters worse, my powers of invisibility always kick in when I'm stuck at a shopping cart road block. What else could explain the fact that I stand there...waiting...and waiting...and no one seems to see me trying to get through? I mean, do they think I'm just there to watch them debate over  which can of tomato sauce has the prettiest label?  Sheesh. The Hubs always tells me, "just say excuse me and they'll move." But I don't think I should have to...I'm not a small gal, and I'm not difficult to spot, even from a distance. They have to be able to see me.  But just you wait. One of these times I'm just gonna FART as loud as I can when I'm stuck at one of those shopping cart road blocks. Yeah, I bet somebody will notice me then.

And last, but certainly not least, we have the Thongs Are Wrong Shopping Goob.

There are a lot of things I want to see when I'm shopping for groceries. Sale prices. Buy One Get One Free specials. Checkout lines with no waiting. But one thing I absolutely do NOT want to see is the butt crack business of some skinny biatch wearing her favorite striped thong as she bends down to get something, all the while pretending to be totally unaware of the fact that her thonged ass is on display for the entire shopping world to see. Don't freaking tell me you don't know what's happening either,  goob, because feigning ignorance catapults you from goob to idiot status in the time it takes me to gag at the view. You know! And it begs the question: what are you really shopping for? Sugar? Sugar Daddy? A man-whore with a thong fetish? Show some class. Put on your big girl panties and go shopping like a lady. And then maybe, when some obsessed texting guy knocks over a fruit cup sample right behind you, you won't have to pick pineapple and grapes out of your butt crack.

So that was my Saturday, folks. A day in the big city. A nice meal in the afternoon. And adventures in shopping---also known as shopping with goobs.

Can You Hear Me Now, From Aisle 5?

Is it just me, or is there a new breed of shoppers at the local grocery store? You know the ones I mean, right? They're pushing their cart, they're grabbing some Funyuns, they're changing their mind about their bologna, and shoving it onto a shelf next to the paper plates while making sure no one is watching...all the while chatting incessantly to their BFF...on their cell phone.

Since when did talking on the phone while grocery shopping become the chic  thing to do?! As if dealing with self-involved shoppers who drive their cart down the aisle like they're the only ones in the entire store isn't bad enough, no no. Now we have to put up with them screeching and hollering into their cell phone to boot. And are they blocking your access to the Pop Tarts? Well, uh, sorry, you're going to have to hope and pray for a dropped call before it would even occur to them to get out of your way.

Whatever happened to the good old days, when going to the grocery store meant that the rudest thing you had to put up with was someone who was willing to arm wrestle you for the very last package of Buy One Get One Free 12 Roll Packs of toilet paper? Those days are long gone, my friend. Yesiree. Now they'll not only arm wrestle you, but they'll give the play-by-play of the whole scene to that BFF on the other end of the phone call, and they'll be referring to you in less than flattering terms, as if you aren't even standing just twelve inches away from them while they do it.

Don't get me wrong, I think cell phones are great. And I will admit to having called the Hubs a time or two from the grocery store, asking if we need one gallon of milk or two. But I sure as heck don't spend countless minutes chattering on and on about mindless drivel, completely oblivious to my own volume level, and all at the expense and annoyance of the rest of the shoppers, who clearly just want to get their groceries and go home.

Seriously. What is wrong with people? This is one of those things I really don't understand. If you want to chat up your best friend while shopping, here's an idea: bring them with you! Get in some real, quality, one-on-one face time, and get your shopping done all at the same time.  {They call that multi-tasking, I believe.} And then the real bonus is, the rest of us won't have to hear you yelling into your cell phone, to your BFF, "Can you hear me now, from aisle 5?!"

Barnes and Noble Blackout

So the Hubs and I went to Fort Wayne yesterday. I wanted to go through Hobby Lobby for some craft supplies and figured we'd eat in town while we were there. FW is an hour away, so we tend to make the most of it while we're there.

After Hobby Lobby and a nice meal at Olive Garden, we were heading past the mall to head home when I spied Barnes and Noble. Now I've only ever been to B&N online; I honestly didn't know they even had "real" stores. This one had to be fairly new because I know it wasn't always there at the mall. I'm not into mall hopping anyway...just not my thing. But since we were right there and in no hurry to get home, I asked the Hubs to pull in so we could browse.

Now I don't know about you, but I love book stores, and I avoid them most of the time for that very reason. I could easily spend hundreds of dollars in there in very short order. It's kind of like how guys are in hardware stores or anyplace that carries tools. If I see some I want, I have to buy them. I just love books! But since I seldom actually have the hundreds of dollars to spend in there (and on this day it was certainly no different), I just don't go in book stores too often. But since I'd never been into an actual B&N, I figured this would at least be worth the effort.

After scouring the parking lot for a parking space--which is never an easy task at that mall so it's something I do not attempt too often--and then squeezing our car into one of the undersized mall parking spaces, we headed to the doors of B&N. We got to the entryway, which had several people kind of milling about in it, and noticed it looked kind of dark in the store. As we tried to make our way past the people, a store employee stopped to inform us:

"I'm sorry, but we've had a power outage and we are not letting customers inside the store. We do, however, have staff members on hand who will gladly browse for books for you and..."

OK, I stopped her right there. While in my mind I'm thinking nothing more than WTH?!, I just shrugged her off, said "no thanks" and headed back out the door from whence I entered.

I mean, are they kidding me? They are going to browse for books for me? How does that work exactly? Were they gonna send an employee into the dark belly of the store, have her randomly grab books, hold them up and holler back at me with, "How about this one?" And then I would, in turn, yell back, "Maybe, could you read me a couple of pages to see if I like it?" Um, yeah, I don't think so.

Book shopping, except for the occasions when you're only in a book store to buy one specific book, is a very personal experience. It's not something someone else can do for you, and I'd think B&N staff would kind of know this. Why else do book stores have chairs and coffee shops in them? Perhaps because people are going to spend a bit of time in there...reading?

Apparently, the store had been without power since a thunderstorm passed through FW earlier that morning. And from what I could gather from other folks who had been talking to the B&N employees before our arrival, the employees had been standing at the doors all day telling every customer who showed up the same things they told us. We heard another customer say, "that's a long time to be standing in the doorway." Uh, ya think?

So my question is this, Barnes & Noble: why on earth didn't you just put a sign on the front door that explained about the power outage, thereby preventing people from going through the hassle of trying to find an undersized parking space in a crowded mall parking lot and making the trek from their car to your front door, only to find out that they could not even go inside?!

Hmm. Maybe they were just afraid that people wouldn't want to read their sign...because, um, you know, people that go to book stores...don't like to read.

Grocery Store Goob

Ever have repeated run-ins with one major goob while at the grocery store? You know the kind I mean...kind of stupid, kind of oblivious, kind of really super annoying?! Apparently, goobs are in their element at the grocery store, and it's just my luck to have run into one during a quick jaunt to the corner market today.

First, he nearly nicked me with his cart, because apparently, my wide frame was outside his range of peripheral vision and he couldn't see me, being all of 16 inches away from him. No apologies from the goob once he realized his faux pas either. Typical.

Then, a few aisles down, I see a shopping cart sitting unattended in the middle of the typically-too-narrow grocery store aisle. It was positioned cockeyed in the center, so that there was no room for anyone to maneuver past it. And just as I'm wondering to whom the aisle-blocking barrier belonged, I look up to see Mr. Goob, standing ten feet away, perusing the chips and dip selections. He was completely oblivious to the fact that three people had to change course to bypass his basket blockade; either that or he thinks he owns the store and can park his cart wherever he pleases. Either way though, he's still a goob for having left it there in the first place.

I finished grabbing my goodies for the taco dinner I had planned for this evening, and headed for the "express" lane, which we all know has about as much validity as "fast food" does at the drive-through. 

But anyhoots, I get in line, look up, and guess who's ahead of me? Uh-huh: good ole Goob. Does he bother to place the plastic bar behind his order to separate it from mine? No. But what he does do is become fascinated with the credit card swiping machine, and the fact that it is on a base that can spin all the way around. He looks befuddled as the cashier (stifling a chuckle herself) explains to him that it swivels so that she can see it, to assist customers if need be. Sheesh. It's not rocket science, fella. Neither is the fact that he has to sign the machine for his pending credit card purchase, which seems to really confuse him. But he manages to close the deal and be on his merry goob way.

Finally, thinking I am free of the whole goob experience, I get checked out and head to my car...but not before the goob manages to speed past me in his circa 2002 Pontiac Grand Prix in the parking lot, and a little too close for comfort in doing so.

Reasonable Facsimile of the Goob's Car

What is WITH this goob anyway?! Pedestrians have the right of way, last time I checked, and he in no way made any effort to yield to the pedestrian (me, of course) in his path. And thus, that annoying idiot went from goob to A-hole, in my book, in one swift shot!

He turned down the same row as my vehicle was parked in, just as I was unlocking the driver's side door. I glanced at my car, a 2007 Pontiac Grand Prix, and then back at his, and I had to laugh. All I could think was, yeah, Goob, this is what a REAL Grand Prix looks like. Immature, I do confess. But hell, what else have you got when your opponent is a grocery store goob? If nothing else, I left there knowing that my Grand Prix could kick his Grand Prix's ass. And that he would always, forever more, be a goob.

 Reasonable Facsimile of My Car

Now I've gotta cook some tacos!