Stupid Turkey!

It's that time of year, when we gather around the table to worship the poultrilicious offering that we enjoy shoveling stale bread up the ass of, cooking, then hacking into every November. After the food coma, some people hide away for the day, others begin to draw strategic maps and equip stealth outfits to sneak from the house early the next morning to slash and hack their way through the Black Friday sales. Still others will vegetate in front of the football games and Macy parades.

This year you will find Lisa, Pahee and myself upstairs in the house, rolling paint and primer and hammering the last few nails before the flooring goes in. By the afternoon, I will get dressed and head off to CoffeeLand where I will work the full closing shift. Joy. About the same time, Pahee and Lisa will set off to Newark to see Tina Turner in concert - Lisa's B-Day pressie to Pahee.

(and did any of you know that Ms Turner has a birthday today - 69 years old!! Cripes! I hope to have legs like that and a functioning brain at that age, let alone be able to shake my ass while belting out songs to thousands of people... I'll most likely be a drooling mess if Lisa hasn't had me euthanized by then.)

So, if you are inclined, stop in and grab a cup of coffee and chat with me. If not, enjoy your day everyone no matter what your plans. Turkey, to-furkey, or a hungry man meal - just be happy. I'm off to measure Alice... she might make a pleasant change from the traditional fare.


***Oh, and a quick story to pass along that our dear friend Lynn in NH has relayed to us a bunch of times - the turkeys on her brother in law's farm are completely stupid, and every year they lose a few to "natural accidents" - the look up to see what is hitting them in the head when it's raining, and many of them drown. Seriously. No joke. I feel less evil for eating them now.

CoffeeLand Quotes

Overheard by Special K and myself the other night:

Table of 2 giggling high school (possibly college) girls speaking in what can only be described as a newly re affected "Valley Girl"-type voices:

Annoying Girl #1: I don't know, but did you see her? *cocks head to the side*

Annoying Girl #2: Oh, I totally did, and she was pretty!

Annoying Girl #1: So Pretty! *smacks the table for emphasis*

Annoying Girl #2: Not just pretty, Abercrombie Pretty!

Annoying Girl #1: *nods gravely*



Not only did that conversation suck part of my brain from my head, but it left Special K and I wondering two things -
1-If that girl was Abercrombie Pretty, does that make Special K and I WalMart Pretty, or Perhaps Target Pretty? K thinks she could be Fashion Bug Pretty. I'm not sure I'd qualify for anything more than Thrift Store Pretty.
2-If that girl was Abercrombie Pretty, does that mean she's a half-naked, androgynous, heroin thin black and white on a billboard kind of pretty, because that's what I remember A&F being.

Just a thought.

Old Lady Hands

It's bizarre and I think it's gross. I think it might be from working 10 years as a deep tissue massage therapist, add to that my prior years working as a sous chef in kitchens and burning my hands all night, add to that the millions of small house jobs where I titter around with my hands and usually end up almost losing a digit or two and it makes them look kinda, well, old.

I am not saying I have the permanently clawed hands, or that I have a million liver spots. no! Not by a long shot. But ever since I began at CoffeeLand; digging into soaking coffee grinds, taking insanely hot steel things from the sanitizer that singe my hands and leave searing red marks, hands constantly being in water; I drag myself home at night and my hands feel weird. I look at my fingertips and it's like they aren't really there. So, I tested myself at work today by rolling my own finger prints on the digital screen. It was worse than I thought. I have okay prints on my #1 and #6 fingers. Even #2 and #7 are passable. The rest, however, are nothing but undetectable markings. These are the same prints I lament when I'm printing a 70+ year old woman with a lifetime of scrubbing bare-handed with bleach and smoking filterless Pall Malls. My prints have worn down so far that when I tried to take them again, this time in a special ink, using a ridge raising compound, the results were the same unreadable blobby smear.

Why, oh why didn't I just marry into money and be done with it? Then I'd have pretty hands that would be manicured and perfect.

On My 1st Meeting Of The "Big Boss"

I met the district/regional/whatever is higher than my general manager person the other day at CoffeeLand. By "met" I mean I was walking to the front area to restock, and as I reached where she was standing with my boss, things went 80's slow-motion. I heard him say, "Barbara, this is Blahphembugle, my boss." and for some reason, something happened to my usually oh-so-graceful poise and I stuck out my hand to shake hers, not realizing I was still holding a half open container of whole milk. Slo-mo continued as I watched the container hit the floor with a vigor reserved for truly embarrassing times like these, and milk splattered toward her and spread across the tiled floor like a film noir crime scene.

All I could manage to "udder" at the woman was a very questioning "Moo?"

Where Is My Right Said Fred?

Last night, I think I figured out what I'm lacking at my part time job at CoffeeLand(TM) - I was watching my Learning Coach/Training Biotch (Whom shall now be fondly referred to as "Special K") and although she is only 3 years my junior, she's been working for this company for over a decade, and what sets us apart is confidence. Plain and Simple - I'm insecure about my ability to perform as well and as quickly as needed, let alone to match her precision and skill. I have to admit, I wondered what the hell could be so hard about working at CoffeeLand, but I severely underestimated the knowledge, memory, and coordination needed to work here. Not to mention the INSANE and CONSTANT cleaning.

So, those of you old enough might remember that group made up of the 2 bald male models - Right Said Fred? I've been pumping that "I'm Too Sexy" song through my head at work, trying to get a little of that swagger back into my hips I had over a decade ago but seem to have lost with my waistline. Now that I'm getting the waistline back, I'm hoping my confidence and strut might decide to join it. If that happens and I'm able to reach the old, spunky, sassy bartender from years ago (and if I can find her size 4 figure and better hair, I'll grab that too!) - I might be able to make it at this place after all. I really enjoy my closing nights with Special K. She's more than a bag of chips. She's an enchilada. You've got to see her work.

Anyway, I'm going to try to find some more music to load onto my iPod to get that swagger back.
And I'm going to stay away from Right Said Fred stuff. Maybe some old Joan Jett? Suggestions?

CoffeeLand Convos

2 cops walk into a Coffee Bar... (names and places are fake to maintain my employment)

Hulking Police Officer #1: Can I get a Large Vanilla Latte?

(I'm off at the machines, making said coffee drink while a co-worker chats with them)

Hulking Police Officer #2: Hey, don't I know you? (I assume he's speaking to my younger cute co-worker who would be the likely choice to hit on - but no, after a longer pause, I realize he's speaking to me)

Me: (squinting at him) I don't know, do you?

Hulking Officer #2: Yeah! I remember you from the advanced latent fingerprint course at the police academy! Wow!

Me: Oh! John Smith! Yeah! I remember. How're you doing with those latents? That was a great class.

Hulking Officer #1: Oh yeah, the only female in the class. You told me about her. (points at me) You were working at {insert random place here}, right?

Me: Yep. Good memory.

Hulking Officer #2: Long time, right? I switched to municipal police because there's a lot more money in it. How's your... uh...

(uncomfortable silence as they both look at me in my apron and wonder if I'm even employed anymore and prepare to swallow their feet)

Me: Here's your Latte.

On Coffee, Money, and Coffee Money

So, it's official. Let the mockery commence. I have been hired as an employee of a multi-million dollar beverage corporation. I shall be creating and dispensing fancy hot, cold, and very, very cold beverages to the masses. To again circumvent getting dooced, I will be calling said employment CoffeeLand. On first meet, I am loving my boss there. Very cool. He has a lot of the type A personality traits it takes to be a really good manager in this kind of business, but also a sense of humor like none I've seen in a boss. It'll be good, I think. We need the money, and I'm willing to do what it takes. maybe when Lisa graduates and is allowed full time work we won't be strapped to this extent and I can relax a little bit. For now, this is the way it is. No sense getting worked up. I'll just have a decaf.