You know, the thing with the stuff.

Have you ever worked with an old person? Now, don't get me wrong. Old people are nice. I love my Nana; she rules supreme. I love old people when they're telling me stories about the Depression, or the Jitterbug or making biscuits and stew and shit. But I can't stand working with them.

Case in point. I work with this one woman who refuses to learn the computer. Keep in mind, her job performance relies heavily on computer usage, but no. Someone else will do it. (by they way, she always reminds me she doesn't "need"her job, she just likes to keep busy. So take a fucking ceramics class already, or paint some birds!) But, no. She just "doesn't get it" so she just "doesn't do it". Yeah, no shit.

Also, she will randomly pop her head in and say things like:
Did you find the sheets?
(pause)
What sheets?
(stares at me blankly)
You know the thing with the stuff that what's his name brought down.
(I now stare blankly)
Um, I'm not sure which ones you're talking about.
(gives me evil glare)
The sheets with the things that are supposed to be for tomorrow's thingee from the other stuff.
(WTF LADY???)
No, haven't seen them."
(stomps away to make coffee, her one redeeming factor).

Also, she has no concept of what is current in music, and we work in radio. She listens to the jazz station (not one of ours) all day and has fallen in love with a new Michael McDonald song. Because she is delusional and thinks that she is like, totally "down" with not only music, but everyone in Vegas, she calls the Program Director for our hard rock station and says things like, "Oooooh, child. I luvvvv this new Michael McDonald song. Can I run up there and get the CD?....Oh, we don't have it?....that's strange., He's such a huge star, we really should."

Then she hangs up and calls him useless.





Perhaps my recent tirades have stemmed from the fact that my extended family has been staying with me for THREE WEEKS while they settle on their house, but who knows. I will search for the happy me soon, but for now, I complain. Sorry.

An Open Letter....

I've been finding myself composing open letters in my brain to people and/or situations I come across on a daily basis ever since I found this website that actually publishes them. I think I may need to start my own personal open letter archive because being civil with my outbursts is probably safer here in Las Vegas than my current tactic of flipping the bird. So, on that note...
An Open Letter to People in Las Vegas Grocery Store Parking Lots

Dear Shoppers,

I know it's hot. It is. It's fucking boiling hot. But please, when you get into your car, proceed straight to "R". Do not wait for your car to cool down before you back up. It's not going to happen in the next 20 minutes.

Choose one side of the parking aisle to walk on. If there are four of you going into the store, you don't have to walk side by side. You can actually pair up, and walk behind the cars that are already parked.

Take five fucking seconds to put your cart in the cart corral. It's RIGHT THERE. That way, the poor cart wrangler can be in and out in a second without dying of heat stroke and also, others can park their cars in the spaces currently OCCUPIED BY YOUR CART without having to park, get out, move your cart for you, get back in car, and drive into the space.

Lastly, please don't spit so much. I have walked behind at least 60% of you who feel it necessary to hawk enormous wads onto the street every time you leave a store. It's nasty, and this is flip-flop country. Ick.

For the rest of you who observe parking lot etiquette, I love you. I want to hug you in the freezer aisle, for you are clearly not from here.

Love,
Me

Drought, Drought, Let it all out!

If any town's gonna blow shit up, it's Las Vegas, dry as hell, or not. Being from D.C., I'm jaded by 4th of July. I'm used to the Dynomite Mothership of fireworks on the Mall with the Washington Monument as a backdrop. I look back fondly on the time I was asked by park police to remove myself from the reflecting pool after a 4th of block partying.

But I will say this. No one puts on the best at-home"I-bought-this-shit-at -the-INDIAN-RESERVATION, it's so crazy-" fireworks display than the people of Las Vegas. They totally kicked ass.