Kid Architects

Last Sunday I had nursery at my church. The little kids were dumping out the Lincoln Logs and refusing to put them back in the bin (even though they were tripping over them and trying to fall over and crack their heads open on the floor) so to distract them I began teaching them how to make buildings out of them, and look what they made:

The one building was entirely empty and there were a ton of little pieces left over so the little kid started chucking them in this tall building, saying that the little pieces were "cold" so they needed to go inside.

But the best part? The same kid chucked a doll into the pretend kitchen over and turned to me saying, "Shh! She's sleeping!"

Retail Wednesdays!

Sonshine and I are doing this whole, Retail Wednesday, and I really want to do this post (even though I really don't have time for this right now), so I'm just going to make it really quick, okay? (And I have a post I'm trying to do, but I'm having issues with cameras again, so it might be a little while.)

Anyway. Here is the next installment of Retail Wednesday:

Looking for books...

This happened a while ago, and it is similar to other stories I have told before, but I will try to make it as interesting as possible:

A customer calls saying that she is looking for a book.

"Yes?" I say, waiting.

"Well, it's by some guy named Dobson."

Uh-oh. This is not a good sign. "James Dobson?"

"Yes! That's it!"

"Well, do you know what the name of the book was?"

"Something about parenting," (almost all of his books are on parenting.) "I don't know, I thought it was kinda' expensive" (insert awkward laugh here).

I stare at the phone. So far she has been as helpful as a rabbit on drugs.

I am a bunny on drugs...?

"Well, he's written a lot of books, so I kinda' need a title."

There's a pause.

"Um... Do you know the title?" I ask.

"No."

"I can't look it up without the title."

"Fine! I'm going to Borders!" *click*

Mumbling, "They're going to need the title too..."

It was kind of disappointing, because I was hoping she would call Borders and have Sonshine pick up the phone. Because then Sonshine could have gone Karate on her.

Cat-rate Chop!

Then there was the time this older lady came up. She smiled.

"Would you like a cookie?"

"No! Never trust old ladies!" *shove*

I smiled.

I smile like a gorilla. Yay!

"Do you have a book. It is published by such-and-such, is 8 and 1/2 by 11, and has a blue cover."

(Why do they always have a blue cover?)

"You don't know the author or title?"

"No. But it's 8 and 1/2 by 11. There's not a lot of books like that."

I stare at her, unable to scream that I can not look up a book by the publisher, book size, or cover art. Mostly because she is a cute old lady, but also because my boss would probably fire me faster than two speeding grandpas.

"I will beat you, grandpa-man, with my shiny red scooter!"

Drastic!

Last night I received a most ominous text from Sonshine:

"Evil has entered the house while you were gone and I am sore afraid."

I responded thus:

"Did Evil Blam penetrate my defenses?"

I was thinking this because I had recently been threatening his kittens, or some such nonsense, and when Sonshine did not respond, I assumed the worst.

My assumption of the worst was not even close to how completely terrible it truly was. (And, thankfully, it did not involve EB. Looking back I feel kinda' bad about assuming he did anything terrible, for he did defend my honor as a woman-child.)

When I opened my door to my room I found a piece of paper lying on my table:

The WORST!

Gasp! Moondark Evil! Sonshine's greatest nemesis! She has stolen the giftcard that Falen most graciously gave to me. Today I responded with my own piece of paper:

The Ransom Response Note

I am afraid that I may offend MoonDark, for although you cannot see it well in the above picture, I did the best I could to let MoonDark know how angry I am with her. I said such things as:

"Eat this flower, because then you will choke on it and die!"

"Swarm of poisonous piffer bugs!"

"Some bunny loves you: but not me >:("

And:

Not only did I leave these things in a secluded area, I also included this:

The Bunny is holding chocolate bunnies

Awww... Look at that bunny. He is so courageous, being left for MoonDark Evil.

So cute!

I named him Benjamin Bunny. I know! I'm not supposed to get attached. He will probably be devoured tonight.

So far away and helpless. Still smiling and happy. *Sniffle* I am a murderer.

You will pay for this, MoonDark Evil! Oh, you will pay.

When Broccoli Inspires Great Cogitation

This is a piece of broccoli that looks like it's wearing a shower cap! Okay. Maybe that's just me, but what better intro to my discussion?

Broccoli!

This past night I was helping serve food at my church's Couple's Night (or whatever it was called.) I was watching over the appetizer table (although, I'm not sure what I was expected to do. I have no qualms with having one use fingers to procure veggie wedges.) I was busy trying not to scream "use your hands people!" when it hit me. Why do we encumber our hands with these devices called "utensils" (which I always have issues with, just watch me attempt to cut meat) when our hands were created with uncomparable dexterity? It was like watching a badly written poem as people fumbled to collect sliced fruit with tooth picks, cheese slices with tongs.

This is not what our food looked like. It was dark. I could not take a picture.

How sad that we live in a world so rampant with diseases and germs that one cannot feel comfortable simply using their hands, when hands are obviously far superior to plastic and metal sticks with prongs.

As much as utensils hate me, I have to admit these are just adorable

Although a little bit bizarre. Do they clip together like toys?

Oh! And utensils remind me of this spoon I saw at a friend's house the other day:

Yes, this is a Shovel Spoon

How sweet is that!?

I grabbed the spoon and insisted on taking a picture of it while most people in the room either stared at me, or gave me side-long glances. Apparently it is unusual to take pictures of spoons. Even spoons that look like shovels.

World Peace and Devil Tylenol

Yesterday my mum made a little bit of world peace. Yup. That's right. She made scones. Scones! And they were delicious. Here they are partially made:

I dough love you... Sorry. Lame.

More importantly here they are finished...

Cranberries! Look at the Cranberries!

...and ready to be consumed.

Mmmm... Yumalicious from Mumalicious

Ah... Delicious. My mum got like, twenty high-fives from me for these. Ask Sonshine. They were the bom-diggity-yo.

And in my post about my week in writing over at my Other Blog I mentioned Devil Tylenol and look what the fabulous Blam made:

Devil strength, Tylenol from Hell. Ahahahahaha... Amazing.

I Am a CopyCat

Heloo, my sister, SonshineMusic, did this thing where she wrote down ten of her favorite things. She, of course, did not speak of things which are obviously her favorites, but of things un-obviously her favorites. I, being her younger sister and copycat, decided that I would do just such a thing. But instead of ten things I will do seven point five things instead.

1. I love being just a little bit stalkerish. I don't know why but I get a thrill from looking up people in the yellow/white pages and finding out where they live and work. Ah, the life of a psychopath *jealous*

This, apparently, is an Undead Stalker

2. I really think wombats are cute. I'm not a big fan of animals, but I was looking up pictures the other day, and I saw this wombat, and he was just so adorable.

Awww... Cuteness!

3. There is something about vanilla wafers that makes me happy. Every time I think of them I kind of go into this semi-catatonic state where I feel like melted butter sitting in a lovely teacup. Or something.

I am a lovely teacup!

4. The smell of wood. And no, not like trees, silly, but WOOD. Today at work I was unpacking these pretty frames with pictures inside, and they are made with trips of fresh new wood and it is delectable smelling. Ah, sigh.

This is WOOD

5. I love having friendly debates about ridiculous things, like time travel, whether or not Adam and Eve could kill themselves, how one would measure wit and eloquence, and which would be the best way to die. This is why I am such a fan of LOST, for reals.

Where are we, when are we, and why are there rabbits?

6. I love the word spleen. Whether I'm having an undercover spleenechtomy, melon-balling someone's spleen out, or simply shouting out that my spleen hurts, it is always fun. I have no idea why. I definitely think it should win funniest body organ of the year award.

This is a Panda having a Spleenechtomy

7. And I love everyone over at Nikki Stafford's blog. They are as super as... Super glue!

Super, Super Glue!

7.5 I love it when purple and green spotted cats open up brown striped boxes with their tiny little paws and then...

Well, there you have it. 7.5 of my favorite things :)

Retail Wednesdays!

So my sis and I are having this thing called RETAIL WEDNESDAYS! (Insert the Price is Right clapping and cheering.)

These people are not real. Do not trust them!

And I wasn't going to do a post today, because I am LAME and trying to write query letters that don't suck like potatoes, but now I've eaten so much sugar my fingers are shaking and I didn't even have coffeee! Wheee! My siter made muddy buddies which are amazing and good and chocolate and peanut butter and powdered sugar!!! Sugar!!!

Mmmmm...

Okay. Yes. I am going to tell you some sort of story now, because that is the whole point of this post. Isn't it? But I'm having a hard time thinking because all I can think of is running around like some crazy person hyped up on sugar. (Maybe because I AM a crazy person hyped up on sugar.)

Okay, this isn't hyped up, but there is a whole lot of ridiculous hype over high heels.

Aha! That's better! That's one crazy person :) Hoorah!

Today's Highlight: 100 Dollar Bills.

Seriously, people, there needs to be a societal etiquette regarding the usage of 100 Dollar Bills. A long time ago when I worked at Staples a man came in fifteen minutes after we opened. He walked around for two minutes, grabbed a two dollar item, slammed it down on the counter. I am still bleary-eyed, slowly swaying as I tell myself to "wake up, wake up."

This might as well have been me. 'Cept as a woman. I am no man.

So I scan this old man's items. I make very little eye contact cause I'm just hoping to be able to get the two dollar item into the plastic bag, but it's looking a little fuzzy. So I go very slowly, very carefully, and VICTORY! The two dollar item makes it into the bag. Huzzah! I smile, hit the 'Total' button and stare up at the old man.

"That'd be two dollars and sixteen cents."

The old man waves a hundred dollar bill in my face, slaps it on the counter, and waits.

"Kind sir, do you happen to have a smaller bill? I do not have change for a hundred."

"Yes."

I stare at the man. He stares back at me. I realize that this happens a lot in my life, but I wait patiently for an answer, because there is no one else in the story except for the manager who's in the back, the creepy cleaning guy, and some dude who's hiding in the aisles hoping that he doesn't actually have to work. So I wait, still trying to tell myself to wake up.

"So you have a smaller bill than a hundred?"

"Yes," says the snarky man, "but I want to use the hundred."

Good for you, I want to punch you in the fafe! I do not say this. Instead I say, "Sorry sir, but I don't have change for a hundred."

"I don't care!"

"Dude," I lost my thin veil of professionalism here, "I am so not calling my manager to get me change when you have a smaller bill." He grumbles at me, gives me a five, and huffs off once I give him his change. Well, excuse me Mr. Snarky Old Man, next time I'll make sure I give you the thing for free, just to make yo life easier.

"I Don't Want to give you no smaller bill."

THEN the other day this woman gives me a hundred dollar bill for a fifteen dollar order.

Right lady, because I have change for a hundred, despite the fact that I opened eight minutes early since you were banging on the door and frowning like an eternal ray of frowndom.

Instead, I think i should have the right to chuck her over my shoulder, carry her to the nearest dump, and throw her in with the bags of garbage, just to show her how offensive she is. Seriously, unless you spend $46.30 or more, do not give me no hundred dollar bill in the moning. Or else I will find the etiquette police and make them hunt you down like the fish you are.. . >:)

Don't call the etiquette police!

Too late.

"If only he had used a twenty!"

Does Knowledge Have an Aura?

Now, I'm not saying I'm the smartest crayon in the box, but most of the time I do like to hang out in the Smart Crayon Box.

So once when I was in class (Psychology) we were going to play a game. (Can you say interactive?) And to play this game we had to divide into teams to play a version of jeopardy. I was sitting there thinking, by golly, I'm terrible at jeopardy. And this dude, whom I didn't even know knew my name, let alone knew enough to shout out to the whole class: "I want Naomi on my team. She's smart." Dude! A) Embarrassing 2) No matter how smart I am, I am terrible at jeopardy C) How do you know my name? 4) How do you know that I'm smart?? This is the second day of class!!! Suffice it to say I gave him my "you're obviously on drugs or meds, because you're crazy" look.

If I were a frog I would've given him this look

So then today I was sitting on a chair minding my own business. There was this girl next to me and I thought she was murmuring the words of her textbook to herself, because I've done that before (though, not when I'm sitting next to a complete stranger). But then I realize it's the same monotonous murmuring. Oh my werd. She is HUMMING. I didn't think it was possible to hum out of tune, but lo and behold, it is. So I'm trying to think of some polite way to ask her to stop (which is pretty much impossible. No matter how you say "by Santa Clause, that noise is annoying" you will sound like a rude pig-faced psycho-path) when Hallelujah! she stopped. She turned to me. She said, "Is Christian Educator a word?"

I stared at her. She stared back. She expected a response. "Um..." I tried not to tell her that she hummed like a somnolent bee. "Yes? I mean, if you're a Christian no matter where you teach you will be a Christian Educator."

"Oh, I just wanted to know if educator was a word. It sounds weird."

I laughed awkwardly. "I think it is. If it's not you can blame me." (Even though she doesn't know my name."

She nodded. She sat there. I tried to study Greek, but two girls over were talking about shoes or something. (Honestly, I don't know, I wasn't paying attention. Greek verb endings were a little bit higher on my priority list.) Then the girl stands and scurries away.

Okay, so nothing too weird, right? I mean, she just asks a simple question and then runs away. But it got me thinking, does knowledge have an aura, or something? Is there a certain smell around smarter people that one can pick up on? Like the smell of strawberries, or sugar cane.

Sugar cane smells smart

Or maybe it was because I was studying Greek while digging through my Akkadian homework.

Right. Because studying ancient languages makes me smart. Ha. Really, it just gives you a massive whallop of a headache while you ask yourself "why, why, why?"

Percy Jackson Review

So my sis SonshineMusic and I went to see the Percy Jackson movie tonight. Tah-dah:

So this is my review of thus mentioned movie:

It began as most movies do, opening credit type-words that inform you as to who has made the movie. The first name came up, fine, boring whatever. But then the words/letters come up that say: 1492 and my sis and I turn and say at EXACTLY THE SAME TIME:

"Columbus sailed the ocean blue

In fourteen hundred ninety-two."

Well, at least we started two before we started our theatre laughs. This is where you take your sweatshirt, pull the sleeve over your hand, and then shove your hand in your mouth to muffle the giggly noises.

Keep in mind, the movie has barely even started and we're already laughing. So we settle down and are reading the names that come up on the screen. There's Sean Bean, and some other people, and then the name Pierce Brosnan comes up (or however you spell his name) and in complete unison Sonshine and I turn and theatre whisper: "Peirce Brosnan!" And this is where I whispered: "Isn't he that guy mum think is cute?" Sonshine shushed me.

"I'm a centaur!"

Then Sean Bean (aka Boromir) came onto screen and there is only one thing I could think of:

I am muffling laughter while my sweatshirt sleeve is getting wet. The rest of the movie was pretty uneventful, sweatshirt-wise. The actor they got to play Percy was perfect, spot-on. Grover was cast well, and Percy's mum was better than I expected. As soon as I saw Annabeth though I almost ripped someone's face off. She is suppose to be blonde. Why didn't she dye her hair? Why was she making the most ridiculous "I'm-spazzing-out-and-dying" faces? Why in every single shot while fighting did she look like she was thinking "I'm so sexy." Once she was over the "I'm so sexy and spazzing out" she was pretty good.

I'm sexy and spazzing out

There was one other part though, that I must warn you about. When Percy, Grover, and Annabeth went down on their way to Hades they meet the ferryman, Charon. There, lurking in the shadows while stroking an ugly dead-looking bird, was EVIL BLAM!!! He was having tea with Charon (I think I saw a parasol behind his foot). It was most disturbing.

Evil Blam is lurking in the shadows! Look for the parasol!

So over-all it was a good movie. (Other than the Evil Blam sighting, obviously.) It was different than a book, but DUH, movie and books are different mediums, different palettes, different kinds of animals. There were some good line. "This is a pen" being one of the most memorable.

"Pen!"

And the end blip was just hilarious.

Over all I give it a -1 on the E-o-M.

Why Retail is Sucking Away My Soul Part II

Here comes the long-awaited second part of retail, and this part is the oh-so-abused and forgotten cashier. How does retail affect a cashier? Well, let's see...

1. It makes you immune to people's sob stories:

Women: But I couldn't come within a month to return this bent up, ripped up, book because my daughter died of cancer!

Daughter: (eyes rolling) Mom, I'm you're only daughter.

Me: Riiiight

He is wise and does not believe the sob story

2. It makes you second guess people

Me: Uh, lady, are you SURE you just bought this yesterday?

Lady: Yes.

Me: Then why is this reciept dated to five years ago?

More like 50 years ago...

Scenario two:

Man: I'd like to return this.

Me: Dude, you already returned ten things this month. Besides, once you open electronics we're not supposed to return them.

Man: Uh, uh, then my wife can return it.

How dare you accuse me, you cashier you

3. It leaves you speechless when usually you could come up with a witty response:

Is speechlessness synonymous with mimes? I know fire is.

Customer: Oh! You have such small hands! You don't see those anymore.

Me: ... (stunned silence. Do I say thank you? Do I stare at her? Do I slap her with a fish?)

4. It makes you forget what Holidays and Snow Days mean:

Me: What? You get holidays AND snow days off? Wait. What is the Fourth of July again? I haven't celebrated it for so long.

(And as my co-worker says about working on Labor Day: "Oh, the irony.")

Notice the beans. I really have worked a lot of holidays. I forgot about the famous "Bean Day"

5. It erases weekends into oblivion

This is TOTAL OBLIVION. *shrugs* Don't look at me, I didn't decide that. Ask Google.

Friend: Would you like to sleep-over on friday night? It's the weekend!

Me: (staring) Weekends still exist? I never knew...

STARE!

Okay. I'm gonna' need to divide this in two, so for now that's all. Toodle-oo!