Grotty Old Men

Did I tell you about the old dude called Joe who's like 180 who stood in front of my register for ages holding up the line. He was all hunched over shorter then I am and let me tell you now that IS short! Yellowed with age and tobacco and had the most disgusting teeth ever and stains on his shirt and he smelled icky. Guess what he wanted? Me. To go over to his house when is wife isn't there so that he can have sex with me, he even gave me his address and phone number. Ewwww. You're like older then my great grandfather, as if I'm going to sleep with you. Not to mention the obvious fact that you're gross, sleazy and obviously the biggest idiot in the world. And after he had finally gone the customer next to him was like "aww that's so cute he must be lonely." NO THAT IS NOT CUTE!!!! THAT IS SICKENING!! And he comes from Nundah! OKay, so I don't actually know where that is but I do know it's about an hour away and what the fuck is he doing on my side of town anyway if he lives in Nundah??? Does he go around to all the supermarkets asking fit young girlies to let him screw them? He made me feel so dirty, I kind of wanted to puke. I hope he dies very, very soon. Yesterday would be good.

(EDIT - I forgot to mention he bought me chocolate, which made me feel really guilty and I tried to give it back to him but he wouldn't take it back. Grrrrrrrrrr. So I gave it to Ginger and she finished the entire massive block within an hour, that girl sure can eat. It wouldn't have taken me over a month to finish all that!)

This other dude gave me a flower, he was also old and he had no teeth either. But that was okay because he just gave it to me and walked off. He didn't hang around reiterating the sex point like some 1000year old viagraed up hobo paedophile

So tired

Ever since I had that nice bitch about those customers I've been feeling much better at work. Now I don't have to think about it because I already wrote it down. Does that make any sense? Back to assignments now *sigh*, don't worry though, I'm not working too hard...

ARGH KILL KIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!

I hate customers! I work in hell! Simply put, I am a check out chick...at a supermarket...an Australian supermarket. It sucks, on many, many, many levels. Most of the time I wish the customers would a) drop dead, b) die very soon or c) die even sooner! Of course I don't wish this upon all customers, some I like, actually some I like immensely and they cheer up my day. But not those other ones...

Things customers did today that PISSED ME OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
1. Fuck off lady, don't bring that trolley through express, can't you read the huge lit up sign that says "Only Hand baskets"?!?!?!?! Did you forget how to read? Or do you think you get special privileges cause you're a dumb arse?
2. What do you mean you need two plastic bags?!?! You bought JUICE and it already has a HANDLE! ARE YOU BLIND?! And yes they will fit in one bag without breaking.
Lady: "Oh but I have to walk up a hill" WTF does a hill have to do with anything? Are you swinging the bag around your head as you walk? I mean seriously why do you need a bag, let alone TWO! Lazy bitch, I hope that Zeus strikes you down with his shiny lightning bolts for being a retarded Earth killer! ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGHHHHHHHHH!!
3.a. LISTEN UP OLD PEOPLE! Once you put your shopping on the conveyor belt don't keep touching it! Leave it alone! STOP TOUCHING IT! It's irritating to the extreme! Stop pushing things at me. Every time you push things forward you fuck it up for everyone else. See the laser, can you see it? It's the shiny thing! Every time there is nothing in front of it it moves the belt forward so that the person behind you has more room to place their items upon it. Every time you move your stuff it means the conveyor belt doesn't move and then there's that big gap of unfilled space between your food and where the next person began putting theres. And that someone else is a lot smarter then you and knows that the belt moves by itself and not to push your items forward. I don't care if you don't understand. Just go read a magazine! Or just go FUCK OFF!! Or better yet go away and die. Whatever you do just don't touch the stuff.
3.b. Don't touch other people's stuff either!
4. If you're too old to shop and all you do is whinge, whine and take fooooorevvvveeerrrrrr to get one thing out of the trolley, then don't shop. Buy online! I know you own a computer because your children bought one for you. And obviously you have a telephone line, because no old person is without that vital connection to their dear, darling children. SO put two and two together and shop online, or get your grandkids to do it for you. But just go away, seriously, please, go away.
5. Too all the old perverts out there, my breasts are not for you to stare at, especially not like that. By all means take a quick covert glance but DO NOT stare blatantly at them and not once look at my face! It is DISGUSTING! And I happily wish death upon every one of you. And I'm sure I'll get my wish because summer is coming, and they do say this will be the worst summer, ever. And everyone knows what an Australian summer means for the oldies...
6. MONEY DOES NOT STICK TOGETHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
7. Don't put money on the conveyor belt you stupid, stupid, stupid fuckface!!
8. Yes I can see that, indeed, those are bananas... you don't need to tell me the point blank, yelling in your face, bright yellow obvious.
9. People, use the dividers. Don't sneak them in behind someone else's shopping. Leave a nice gap. See, it goes like this. Shopping -- (6 inches) {div} (6 inches) -- Shopping. Get it? Stop screwing me over and learn to use a divider intelligently. It's not rocket science people, dividers = happiness.

You may think I dislike old people after reading this. And you're right I do dislike them, well most of them. However I do like the smart ones who realise the damage a plastic bag does, can count, say something nice or don't talk at all, realise that spitting on your fingers and then handing me money is gross, know conveyor belts move and therefore don't put money on it and most importantly don't stare at my tits and demand respect because they happen to be older than I am. And that doesn't just go for oldies (though they are the main perpetrators) it goes for all of you irritating, slimy, bitchy, dumb, environmentally retarded people out there. Everyone else is fine and you will be given service with a smile.

Bones in the Backyard

A few days ago I was throwing bird seed in the back garden, which is more like a jungle since my mother is no gardener and I don't like lawn mowers, and while I was flinging sunflowers seeds up into the air to watch them fall back to earth I found half a jaw bone. With teeth. I was a little stunned. I'm hoping the jaw bone belongs to a dog, although from the size of bone and teeth it could also be a large man's jaw. But I feel that is unlikely, so it must be a dog. Where's the rest of the dog though? Why was half a jaw just sitting on the ground? I almost trod on it. Anyway here's hoping sunflowers grow.

I'm eating ice cream right now. Such a treat, it's been ages since I've had ice cream. I found the container shoved way back in the depths of the freezer. Must have been there for months and months. It's not so much cream any more, mainly ice and I'm liking it.

And now I'm bored and wishing the banana tree outside the window had some bananas on it. Which is just stupid because I don't even like bananas. Off to finish reading Uganda's Scarlett Lion's blog.

mX

I got off the uni - city bus the 135 I think it was at 5pm yesterday to go catch another bus to come home after uni and I saw the mX guy. He didn't have any mX* though :( it made me a little sad but he said he'd go grab some more so I followed him to the corner since I didn't know where the mX was hiding that day, it's always moving around. Anyway he gave me an mX and said I had the most beauftiful smile in the whole busway. Aww, it was so nice. *Kisses for the sweet mX guy*

*mX - A small afternoon newspaper with all the latest and most interesting, educational and entertaining news for the afternoon commute. I love mX!

Also there was an article in it yesterday saying that the best way to lower the stress of a crowded commute was to either hum, sing, perve, read, listen to a taped book or a song or imagine the fun that you're going to have when you get home, or think about sex. Personally I like to perve on the nearest sex bomb, or on the school boys. Ahhh gotta love those uniforms *drools*

The Sudanese

Kevin Andrews the immigration minister of Australia is a fuckhead. I wish all sorts of horrible things upon him. How dare he ban Africans from migrating here until mid-late 2008! Where does he get off saying they are forming gangs and are having trouble integrating? How dare he say the Sudanese are going to criminalize Australia. It's not fair! There should be more Sudanese here, they're so pretty! I like having nice things to look at! The Sudanese are like extremely sexy (most of them) art works wandering the city. There should be more of them, not less!!

Mmmm so so so beautiful. I even swapped buses the other day so I could look at the beautiful African. Yeah I know, I'm weird and that it's rude to stare, but he was just so gorgeous, I can't help myself, I'm like a moth to a flame...

Okay so actually I was thinking of swapping buses anyway cause the other bus takes me closer to home, but if we want to get technical I made the ultimate decision only because he was so hot.

Pretty Blog

*shuffles closer to blog page* "This room is so cold."

Second Thoughts

Right, so after careful thought I've decided on the perfect excuse for why I now have a blog. Now pay attention I wont be explaining this again:

It was a cold winter night in July and I was eating dinner in front of the tv, I know, such decadence for such a young life. What I was watching? I don't fucking now, sheesh! But it had some dude on it who was an ex-reporter and apparently he was psychologically damaged from reporting in certain parts of Africa. Anyway the tv then proceeded to scare the bejeebuz out of me with some typical horrifying pictures of mauled babies. I scrambled for the remote but it wasn't working because the batteries had been taken by the battery fairy ie. they fucked off under the couch never to be seen again. So I watched the entire alarming documentary because there is NO way in hell I'm getting off my fat arse to change the channel. When it ended, and let me tell you it was not soon enough, I saw an ad about africa, again, and the ad had all those mauled babies in it, WTF is with that?! Why does the tv insist upon freaking out my viewing with mauled african babies, it's not like I can't upset myself enough without those images. In an effort to ease my moral suffering I ran to the computer and sponsored a child. HAHAHA. Just like that, it was so easy and now my bank account is suffering and I see my savings ebbing away and a life on the streets is looming large in my near future. Apart from my impending financial doom it was the best decision I ever made, that is, it was the best decision if it was between that and falling in a vat of acid. Alright that may be a tad grim since the kid I sponsor is absolutely adorable. She's so cute I just want to eat her, but cannibalism is frowned upon by most societies, so I'll refrain and instead will eat white gummi bears. The bad thing about sponsoring her, the thing that I liken to a vat of acid is the fact that I researched her country, The Pearl of Africa. Nice name, I like it. And now I know way more then I wanted to know and now I can't stop thinking about Uganda and now I have a frickin' BLOG!!

The other story is I liked Pernille's blog so much and The 27th Comrades that I couldn't handle being excluded and now I have a frickin' BLOG!

WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Why did I just make a blog? What the fuck was I thinking? Are two myspaces and email addresses not enough already? "Now Blogger saves your drafts automatically!" Ooooh fancy. Might as well get a facebook too, wouldn't want to get left behind now would I.