Didn't I just say this?

If you've ever been to or plan to be in a non fast food restaurant,or if you are a server in a restaurant, this article is for you, especially the former category. I count my lucky stars that I'm not a server anymore, but I'm only one step removed from it, and some people certainly mistake me for a restaurant server, only there's never a tip! So go here, read, learn and respect. If you're out on a date, the best way to impress your date is to be polite to your server and tip generously while paying your full attention to the lovely person sharing your table. After all, you invited them! Believe me when I say that being cheap and/or rude is NOT a turn-on!

Almost out of the woods...retail hell

It's now officially the end of Christmas season- hooray! If I ever have to hear another bloody Christmas song again, there's going to be bits and pieces of bodies left by the Muzak radio dial in my store and the mute button will be shot in the on position, so that it can never be turned off again!

Please, all you other religio-spiritual denominations, put your best people to work and come up with a crapload of really awful, syrupy full chorus songs about YOUR major freakin' holiday and let's alternate between all of them for about three months-at least it would break the monotony. Come on, Hindus, Moslems, Native Americans, Rosicrucians, Coptics, Greek and Russian Orthodox, Pagans- where are the hit holiday songs to compete with Christmas classics like "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" or "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" or "White Christmas"?

Let's bombard the airwaves with new classics like "It's Devali Time in Old Karnataka" repeated over and over every fifteen minutes starting around May, then stopping in October after the season is over. Or how about that instant hit " Casting the Circle on Samhain Again"? Let's start that one around April and continue into the end of October. Make sure you have seventeen different renditions of each song available and play all of them within any given eight hour period. Gotta have a country one, the 101 Strings version, rockabilly, bubblegum pop, polka, blues, a really slow Yanni heartfelt instrumental, the Kenny G version, etc.

But that's not enough, people. Because when I get home from a full day of listening to crappy, shmaltzy Christmas songs which repeat all day long and crazy customers who are apparently incapable of thinking ahead every freaking year when it comes to holiday meals and who panic at the last minute like a herd of startled bison at a watering hole and buy everything in sight, and who insist on telling me their goddamned life story while angry mobs gather with their hands out, waiting to be fed...when I leave this madhouse exhausted and abused, the only thing I want besides a quick meal and my bed is to find nothing but shmaltzy, crappy syrupy Christmas specials on every freaking TV series and special shmaltzy, crappy syrupy Christmas movies, so that I can't possibly escape the merest mention of the damned holiday.

Oh, and don't wish me a Merry Christmas unless you're POSITIVE that I'm a fellow Christian (I'm not)-just say Happy Holidays and don't assume I'm you, or use my favorite retort "Merry/Happy Chanu-Kwanz-a-Solsti-Mas" and at least one of them has a high chance of being right. If you practice saying it, it gets easier.

And Happy Solar New Year to my Gregorian-leaning friends. My Lunar calendar friends will have to wait a while.

Holiday Time On The Winter Solstice

Well, yesterday was December 22 . This year December 22 was the shortest day but longest night of the year. That's the Winter Solstice. In pagan circles, it's the time when people draw inward and become contemplative, a time for ending things and finishing tasks. In pretty much every place where the climate drops, people draw inward into the house more and feel cozy inside while the weather blusters outside. I think of fireplaces with big overstuffed comfy chairs nearby, the warmth of candlelight, the smell of hot apple cider or hot chocolate warming on the stove, baking cookies while the snow flies around in a crazy dance. None of these things is actually happening where I live right now- it's unseasonably warm, I don't have a fireplace, there aren't any candles. I have not made cider or chocolate or baked any cookies this season. We do have an overstuffed comfy sectional near the warmth of the big screen tv.

We now have this crazy Christmas tree with that color wheel thingy my husband remembers from his childhood. His mother and I got it for him this year, because it was all he wanted when he went in for open-heart surgery several years ago and I promised him we'd get it for him. After much searching, mom found the one we were looking for at a decent price and grabbed it for us. I went all over the place finding ornaments that I thought would fit with that 1950's version of life and childhood that the tree represents for my husband. the most , Never having done all this before, it was a bit daunting deciding what to get for a silver tinsel tree, but I knew it needed to integrate with our living room decor, which is red, black and white, and the ornaments had to look retro enough but kind of postmodern. I even found some black ornaments ( those appealed to our niece's Goth aesthetics). I think I succeeded.

Initially, I had to try not to balk at the thought of a traditionally Christian symbol in my home, but after thinking about it, it was just a dopey fake tree with lots of shiny things on it which give off a soft warm light. So maybe it's a sort of fireplace replacement. Maybe for some people who were raised with this tradition, there's more to it than that, but it's not a tradition I understand or care about. So maybe for me, it's just about a cozy light and delivering on a promise I made to my husband, and perhaps giving him something that reminds him of the simpler, happy times of his childhood. And I think I did a pretty good job of decorating the tree, too, although the minimalist in me liked it better when there wasn't much on it. Apparently, minimalism is not appropriate to even silver tinsel christmas trees. Sigh. I guess that old Coco Chanel saying doesn't hold true here: pile everything on, then keep taking off stuff till it works.

Anyway, if I actually followed any tradition at all and it was a pagan one, completing the obligation of a promise fulfilled would be very appropriate to mark the Winter Solstice.

There's a guy named John Horgan who appears on Blogging Heads. He's written some interesting books, and he referred in his blog to an article he'd written for the New York Times about the Winter Solstice, which you can read here.

lambie of the week

Lambs? Uh, kind of. So if the lamb twins (there are actually two of them) are baby lambs, or lamb babies, then is the picture on the left a sheep/dog or a dog/sheep? I say both. Then I laugh a lot. It's one of my favorite pictures ever. Perhaps I've just anthropomorphised the dog, but it looks pretty pleased with itself to me. The babies look a little more confused. Dare I say it, is the dog just a wolf(hound) in sheep's clothing? Can grandma be far behind or did he eat her? Perhaps we'll never know.

Now who on earth is this guy??!!

This time I have no idea, but I like one of his particular posts, this being holiday time and everything, and my feelings about religion being that it should be avoided at all costs, because it will always end up costing you something, here's a guy I found kinda interesting, despite his horrible spelling and syntax errors. We'll let that slide, as I believe he's very likely not a native English speaker. Well, here he is, propounding his theory of Life, the Universe, and Everything...Srini. Take it,Srini.

Who On Earth Is Tom Baker?

This is actually not my title today, it's actually Tom's. Maybe you actually DON'T know who Tom Baker is, at least the particular one I mean. One of BBC's longest running shows, which stopped for many years, and then started up again, was/is Dr. Who. Originally done in black and white (that's how old the show is!), there have been a variety of actors who play the title role, one of whom was Tom Baker. I have watched the show and its various Doctor incarnations for quite a number of years, with varying levels of amusement and boredom. BBC spared every expense, mainly because they didn't have any money, when they created the show, and sometimes that made the sets, costumes, and frequently, the scripts, rather bargain basement. OK, I'll come right out and say it: cheesy. That was the accidental humor, at least for me, of the show. The villains were the same guys a lot, dressed in a new slapped-together getup and modulating their voices a little, bless them.

Then they found Tom Baker and the thing came to life for me. With a finger laid aside the nose, he was funny, cheeky, and a little overblown in just the right way. He made it so much fun to watch that I tried never to miss one of his episodes.

I have an uncanny (and utterly useless) memory for famous people's voices and faces, and an equally useless memory for their names. If only there were a way to make these things lucrative! Sigh. Ah well. Anyway, no matter how they disguise the bloke, or the bird, there are certain geometries of face, and certain idiosyncracies of speech in pitch, timbre and stresses that tell me exactly who this is, whether I want to or not. I couldn't tell you what those geometries and speech patterns were, but I recognize them. When some actor or actress intrigues me, I can usually spot them, even if they're in the background or a voiceover, and no matter what their age. My husband has learned not to bet against me anymore.

So since I first saw Tom Baker as Doctor Who, I've spotted him in some other productions. Sometimes he's exquisitely cast, as when he played Donald MacDonald on Monarch of the Glen, another BBC show which I adored for exactly the opposite reasons as Dr. Who- beautiful sets and locations in Scotland, realistic costumes, naturalistic direction of a very talented cast, and mostly witty scripts. Brilliant! Other times, the role wasn't quite as well-suited, or the director a bit less talented, or the writing not terribly moving or funny. I still enjoyed watching Mr. Baker. He has a kind of charismatic sparkle.

All this is by way of explanation of my latest enjoyable read. I had the honor to receive an e-mail response from one of my favorite authors, Jasper Fforde, basically after I kind of begged him to do so. Still, I had't really expected a reply, but was delighted when one came. He recommended Mr. Baker's autobiography, which in my ignorance I had never heard of, called..."Who On Earth Is Tom Baker?", written by the actor himself. Fforde had told me it was witty, poignant and funny, so I found it in the UK and ordered it. My husband is annoyed whenever I read the book at bedtime, because I laugh way too much. Baker is a delightful storyteller and gives you quite a picture of the specific times and location of his upbringing and life in the wide world, from bombed-out Liverpool and abject poverty to success and adulation the world over as one of the most popular, possibly THE most popular Doctor Who, which has an immense cult following.

Mr. Baker is happily living in England with his devoted wife Sue, and has done a variety of projects which include the voiceover for Little Britain, a crazy funny variety show on the beeb, but it seems doubtful that he has any plans to come to America to visit any time soon.

Perhaps it's my own vanity, or the charm of the writing and the man himself, but I thought my only chance to let him know how much I enjoyed it was to say so on his website, which it seems he at least occasionally looks at. Baker doesn't know me from Adam, or in this case Eve, still I figure everyone likes an occasional clap on the shoulder to say "well done". I read some of the fan comments and most of them nauseated me and many were accidentally funny in a poorly written, sycophantic sort of way. Perhaps we all have issues which drive us to see a specific personal meaning in things where there isn't any, and maybe I just can't see my own, but I really can't say that Doctor Who changed my life, or saved it, or that the script resonated with the emotional issues I was currently dealing with and was rich in symbolism (pleaaase!), or that I imagined the Doctor as the father/son/lover/brother/uncle/grandad/doctor/pet goldfish/lawn ornament/blancmange I never had, I just thought it was fun to watch when it was Tom Baker.

And it's even more fun to go along for the ride with Tom Baker as he describes how he got there with wit, style, humor, and self-deprecation. If you can find yourself a copy of his book, I highly suggest you get your mitts on it and devour it whole. I'm hoping that perhaps his publisher will re-print it now that Doctor Who is back on the air and as popular as ever. Baker was also gracious enough to send a congratulatory note to David Tennant, the current Doctor, who I also enjoy watching (the first one in a long time since Baker!). Seems like a lovely bloke to me.So please send Tom Baker all of your money. Just kidding. Just buy anything you can on his site. OK, how about smile at him if you see him on the road or mowing the lawn? That'll do nicely.

There's a calendar for every taste, apparently

I don't know about you, but I've been shopping for holiday gifts for a variety of relatives, younger and older, seemingly forever this season. It's serious for me, as I like to do careful research about each of them, find out what their taste is, and target something towards that so that their little faces light up when they see their gift. This is not an easy task, and many, oh so very many, don't know how to do this very well, but I pride myself on it. The reason it's tricky is that in order to achieve the penultimate giftitude (yes, I know that's not a word, but I've just made it up, so now it is), you must step outside yourself and put yourself in the giftee's shoes. So if you hate the color orange, for instance, and the giftee adores it, well then orange it is, however much you might naturally balk. You must place your trembling fingers upon that deeply orange object and through gritted teeth say to the poor dear who is stuck working at whatever retail establishment you've selected for your purchase: "yes, I'll have this one, please" and then go vomit somewhere before you wrap it exquisitely for your beloved giftee. If you're very lucky, you may not ever have to see the object again. Of course, if it's not absolutely hideous to you, it's much easier.

Many people don't give it a second thought at all- they just buy what they would want, but that's all wrong. They may very well think YOUR taste is hideous and hate everything you give them. There is a certain relative I am stuck with who shall remain nameless, but they're not exactly my favorite, and I despise this person's taste 99% of the time, along with pretty much everything else they do, and this person has definitely not mastered the art of gift giving, but they are loved and adored by someone whom I love and adore, so... I have received things from this relative and just looked at them as if they must have had some entirely different person in mind when they bought this thing, and somehow mixed up the packages by accident. And then thanked them profusely and graciously through gritted teeth, assuring them that this is just lovely and exactly what I wanted, because one should be gracious about these things. Then I try to think of someone who might actually like this thing and won't come into contact with the relative in question and re-gift. Yes, that's kind of horrible, but I don't lose a wink of sleep over it. Better that than have the ugly useless thing staring me in the face every day. No, not the relative, the gift.

Anyway, I've probably gotten it wrong upon occasion, but it's not for lack of research or effort if I haven't exactly hit the mark, and frequently it was for lack of dosh, cabbage, money, whatever you want to call it, so it was down to two choices: make something, or buy what I could afford. Fortunately, I'm pretty creative, so I usually make something if it's possible. Better to come with something to give everyone than to arrive empty-handed, at least to my way of thinking.

This year, we have been more fortunate than most of the last decade, but we're by no means rolling in it. And for some reason, my retail hell schedule has been even more horrible than in previous years, so my time, while not any more limited than usual, has been scattered to inopportune moments. thus making it quite a challenge to get handmade things and shopping done. So I bought way more things than I would have normally, and didn't make much of anything. I also managed to steer clear of the dreaded malls, thank my lucky stars and the internet.

I did make baskets for everyone, and gave one a variety of lovely teas and a pretty teapot set for one, another got some special coffee and tea from their favorite vacation site with an authentic coffee set from that place, a marathon runner got a gift card from his favorite electronics store and some energy bars deemed the best by marathon runner websites, etc.
Several of them got gift cards because I know they enjoy picking things out themselves and I haven't got enough specific information to do it for them well, but I like fluffing the gift out a bit. A gift card may be appropriate to their interests, but it's a lackluster gift to open with everyone else, so I thought long and hard about what else to include so it's more fun.

Hmm, a calendar suited to their individual interests would be nice, and after further research, I checked online for what was available. OMG! We all know that there are pin-up calendars, but that would be really creepy coming from an aunt, so I didn't even consider those for the boys. Not that I care if they have one, mind you. Nothing advertising anything illegal or immoral, but fattening would be OK, if appropriate to the individual. I searched and searched, and was amazed to find the variety of calendars available. Apparently, there is one for every taste, no matter how vulgar, stupid, weird or wonderful. For instance, by now if you know nothing else about me, if you have seen any of my other posts, you know I love sheep. Maybe abnormal to some, but that's me, so I bought myself one. I can justify my love of sheep. But SQUIRRELS? The little bastards seen everywhere you don't want them?! The ones who steal the birdseed from the birds, eat your favorite garden plants to oblivion, wreak havoc on grandma's window screens? Bite the occasional U.S. president? Carry rabies sometimes?Or is that raccoons? SQUIRRELS? Squirrel of the month? Who would want twelve pictures of squirrels, for gosh sakes? You don't need a picture of a squirrel when they're always right in front of you everywhere you look, do you? Never mind, I don't want to know. To me, the correct approach to squirrels is a BB gun aimed out of your window at the little pests as they ruin yet another window screen. Not that I actually have a BB gun, but I do fantasize about it occasionally. I give them dirty looks and yell at them, though. That's at least somewhat satisfying. But don't even think about getting me a squirrel calendar, unless it comes mounted to a dartboard.

lambie of the week

This is a screenshot from one of my favorite shows on telly: Shaun the Sheep. I found it accidentally on the Disney Channel when I was channel surfing (yes, I AM almost 50 and watch the Disney Channel!) and we TiVo it. Everyone laughs at me for watching it, but when we make them watch it, they love it too. It's the guys who did Wallace & Gromit, and Flushed Away as well. The show has a really cool website which is obviously geared towards children and they generously allow you to download some of the images of the characters and the backgrounds, which I did. The images are chrystalline clear and the attention to detail in the lighting of the characters and the set is amazing. The sets themselves are gorgeous. It all makes you forget that the characters and sets are pretty small when you see Nick Park and his cohorts in the midst of them while they're filming. If you hadn't realized it, the characters are done in claymation. I rather like that occasionally you can still see a fingerprint on the odd eyelid or body.

Last Minute Louies:

Do you know what a last minute louie is? You might even be one for all I know.

I learned quickly when I was waiting tables that the last customer of the night was usually the biggest pain in the ass and they wouldn't leave. You could turn off the music, then the lights , and beat them on the head with the ashtrays- they were completely oblivious . Well, maybe the ashtray thing was just a fantasy, but it would have speeded them up a little. They usually turned out to be the cheapest tippers too. I got cagey about it and started generously offering the poor innocent working the shift with me the last table. Sucker!

I have found the same or similar to hold true in groceryland. Inevitably, there is a $200-300 order about 15 minutes after closing. This is a last minute louie. This person also tends to be what a friend called an "arm-folder": people who just stand there at the register like a deer caught in the headlights, staring blankly into space with their arms folded across their chests. They casually shop after we close like they have all the time in the world. God only knows what time they think we close. The estimates seem to vary wildly amongst arm-folders of distinction, despite the fact that we're open at the same hours seven days a week all through the year except for three or four days a year.It's written in huge letters on our front door, and our hours are exactly the same as every other store in the whole chain. We're not allowed to throw customers out or tell them we closed a while ago and turning off the music doesn't even register for them, much like my restaurant customers. Even though they're shopping the very last possible moment of the evening, they're shocked and apalled that they can't seem to find their favorite things, and that the shelves are looking a little barren. Never mind that there are pallets full of stacked boxes all over the store which will eventually block almost every aisle so we can re-stock once we close. On top of all this, they frequently start tapping their fingers impatiently on the register while you bag their huge order without lifting a finger to help. They frequently haven't even looked for their credit card yet, and it's quite a hunt in that black hole they call a bag. If there hasn't been one of these customers yet, and it's about two minutes before closing, be assured that there's still one lurking in your aisles.

We usually assign an employee to act as bouncer at the door at exactly closing time, because if we're not ever-vigilant, a few slip through then and will wander aimlessly around the store until we herd them towards the register. We smile at them through gritted teeth and fantasize that we make them unload the pallets with us. They'd never be a last minute louie again, trust me.

" 'scuse Me While I Shoot This Guy"

My apologies to Jimi Hendrix and his estate. I haven't even had a chance to read my e-mail, let alone write anything lately. Well, 'tis the Season...we're reaching the crescendo of the crazy holiday shopper season. Why, oh why, do the slavemasters I work for seem to think that it's a good thing to destroy your entire day by scheduling us too early to do anything beforehand, and too late to do much afterwards besides collapse in a heap? Or better yet, how about working until about 9:30 at night, then waking up at 5:00 a.m. to leave for work again at 5:30 a.m. ? You might as well set up a cot for me at work. There isn't even enough time to sleep, let alone calm down from the night of hell and get something to eat either that night or the next morning. What did I do?!! There are 50 of us to schedule. Do you mean to tell me that absolutely no one else could do the 6 a.m. to 2 p.m. shift? No one? And I'm not the only one this has happened to, apparently.

The only good things about this kind of turnaround shift is that you're so tired that you don't even remember the first three hours, and the customer contact is, thankfully, minimal, since you're there for three hours before they open, then you get a half hour break after they open, so from that standpoint, at least, it's optimal. But you're much more likely to have a cranky employee as a result, so don't blame me if I go a little postal. I promise not to shoot anybody, though. No one would be stupid enough to give me the ammo anyway.

Dealing with customers at this time of year is much like trying to train a really stupid puppy that you adore. They're sweet and lovable, some of them, but unless you stick their head right on the three different signs that state what the demo of the day is and show them the product right in front of their faces in stacks at the counter, they don't associate any of these things with the product that is being sampled with them. Maybe I've said this before, but I can't emphasize the obviousness of this enough to suit me, and I have to say what it is for 5 hours straight. It's not even a matter of literacy, because even an illiterate could look at the picture on the 50 boxes, bags and tins in front of me and notice that the demo looks just like it.

Most people don't even care what it is anyway. We always state the possible allergens in the product with a sign right in front of me and we tape an empty container with the list of ingredients right next to it at eye level. And yet, I actually had a teenager eat something called a peanut something right on the label of all the bottles stacked up on my shelves. She ate it without looking at anything or asking any questions about the product. Then her mother came up and said she was allergic to peanuts. I asked if she was the kind of allergic where people asphyxiate and turn pretty colors from ingesting peanuts and the mother said yes. And the teen ate another one! I wished them good luck that night. Personally, if I had a peanut allergy, I'd be asking some questions before I ate anything, even if I didn't see a three foot sign announcing the demo of the day behind the station, another sign stating that this product contains peanuts at eye level in front of the demo person, and an empty container on the counter with a label that says "Peanut..." next to the sample which she ate unquestioningly. Oh, and there were about 100 jars of the sauce on the shelf in front of the demo counter. Must have a death wish or maybe she likes living on the edge. Ever hear of the Darwin awards? I smell a winner.

Jasper Fforde

See, he's this Oxford-educated guy in Wales who writes brilliantly in this mash-up of fiction genres: very film noir detective novels from the 1950s/names which are silly puns/farce/classic European literature references/nursery rhymes/science fiction/love story and probably a few genres I couldn't think of right this minute. It's crazy but it works.

When I started this blog lo those many months ago, it was mainly to practice writing on a regular basis- my husband's suggestion. The goal is to get better at it, as well as get in the habit, so that at some point, someone might see my blog, like my style, and offer me large sums of cash to do it some more. Or if I got brave enough to seek out publications, online or in print, which accept submissions, then I could refer them to my blog so they could see samples of my writing.

I don't know about you, but when you do things in the arts or creative fields, I think it's very hard to judge your own work subjectively. Some people overestimate their talent, and others underestimate. I always think what I do is crap, but then I figure that someone else might think otherwise. So I decided to go out on a limb and write to my favorite writers, John Hodgman and Jasper FForde, and ask them to have a look and let me know whether I was beating my head against the wall, or if it was worth pursuing.

I didn't expect much, but figured nothing ventured, nothing gained, so what the hell. To my surprise I got personal and very funny e-mails from both!

Sad to say, most people I know have barely heard of either of them, but I highly recommend both writers' work if you have a good sense of humor and at least a pretty good liberal arts education. I've got a hot tip for those of you who actually got one of these degrees: reading guys like this is one of the very few things you can do with it. Another is using the paper your degree is printed on to enhance the bonfire for about 15 seconds while you vainly try to keep warm in the abandoned tenement you're now squatting in, mainly thanks to that fine degree you squandered your hard-earned cash on and now find yourself deep in debt for.

Anyway, when Jasper Fforde kindly wrote me back, he mentioned that he was hard at work on his next novel. I've read everything he's written so far and loved it, so I can't wait for him to finish this next one. See? There WAS a point to all this rambling. Yegads, is that the time? Off to bed, me.

lambie of the week

Well, technically, it's now Friday, and this particular lambie of the week is my salute to Chanu-Kwanz-Solsti-Mas-Devali, the hybrid holiday. I used nine seperate images to make this cheesy representation. There's a dog costume's reindeer bells, a menorah, a kwanzaa thingy, plastic reindeer horns, a christmas tree, two seperate pieces of artificial turf and the background. I considered adding in some images from Devali and the Solstice, and maybe some other spiritual traditions which people made up more recently or got over-marketed into infinity, but it was a real pain in the ass putting this much together so I called it quits. At least the Solstice has been celebrated since man discovered the seasons changed and couldn't figure out how they changed back every year. Scary! That was right up there with "how does the sun leave and come back?". These things still spark a hot debate between scientists and people who would believe the earth was flat if they read it in a really old book written by people who lived in caves and tents and lots of other people told them it was true. Or if they saw something about it on TV. Geez.

iPhones

On a totally unrelated topic, here's the thing about iPhones: if you're kind of a computer nerd/geek and loves all your fancy gadgets and doodads, and if you have pretty large (at least to me) chunk of change burning a hole in your pocket, and if you have a ton of MP3s and/or CDs and want to be able to play them on the same thingy that you use for a phone and a datebook, if you want to be able to check your e-mail from anywhere and get GPS directions to get there from here, and if you want to be able to see good quality moving images (some would call those videos), the thing is screaming your name.

On the other hand, a guy at my store told me his wife asked for one for Christmas and she's never been able to figure out how to get on the internet, doesn't have any MP3s, doesn't know how to download anything and doesn't have e-mail. I asked him what she thought she was going to use it for besides just making calls. He said she'd probably give up, then give it to him and he got a big smile on his face. Ohhhhh...but she decided she didn't want one after all. Oh well, dude.
I have to admit, seeing a couple people's iPhones did give me a slight case of I-want-its, but not enough to shell out my barely eked-out pittance of a paycheck to buy one. And the voice quality of what's really a fancy shmancy cell phone with a crapload of doodads still leaves something to be desired. Plus you're stuck with the one carrier and they've got you by the short and curlies so far.

The decision is up to you, but that's the argument and counter-argument in a nutshell.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

Now is the winter of my discontent. That's probably because it's snowing. I like watching all the pretty little flakes dancing around, so long as I don't have to drive in it. The world is blanketed in white and it's like being in a fairy land.

Snowballs are fun, sledding down the street is fun (I don't think I still have a sled, but the memory is fun), making hot chocolate and baking cookies on a snowy day- all fun, cozy things to do.

Shoveling snow, scraping ice off of windshields, crazy drivers trying to pass you because they have a four-wheel drive and you've got a crappy old car with questionable braking time- not so much fun.

Risking your life with all of the above just so you can hand out free food to cranky old rich ladies and the show-offs in the four-wheel drives too stupid or bored to stay home, which is where I'd much rather be- priceless.

So here it is, the middle of that great retail crescendo approaching: Holiday Season. Full crazy mode is still in my future. We're only up to Slightly More Crazy Than Usual. But if you add in the snow factor, that shoots the Crazy Factor up dramatically. Something happens in my city every year when snow hits. We don't usually get that much of it, but it's like we forget every year what a pain in the ass it is to deal with, then when the snow hits, we remember suddenly and panic. What if we're trapped in the house with nothing to eat or drink? We may never eat or drink again! Mind you, there's only been about an inch of snow most times, if that much. Still...it could happen. Right after man-eating land sharks turn up in the center of town to devour unwary citizens in the trendiest cafes while sipping their mochachinos. I want pictures of that.

After the snow-induced onslaught, my store usually looks like a bomb went off. The shelves are mostly empty, and my co-workers are left lying in a tangled heap of bodies flopped over on the cash registers from exhaustion.

Keep in mind that retailers love this. They're thrilled to bits that, in your panic, you decided to buy 14 packages of your favorite spaghetti, so that if you are indeed stuck in your house, you'll have enough pasta to last you for the next 5 weeks. Panic-stricken shoppers are a retailers dream and a retail worker's nightmare. I saw a video from YouTube on Retail Hell Underground's site where a stag got trapped in what looked like a Target store and it was slipping and sliding around madly trying to find its way out again and not succeeding because he obviously didn't know the layout of the store. Yeah, it's a lot like that. Only the deer was better at finding the ladies' lingerie he was looking for. And it took him less time than some of our customers to find his way out again. Pretty sad. For the humans, I mean. The deer seemed be having a pretty good time.

Guilty Confession

Is it wrong to love the baling machine? If you don't know what that is, it's this big monster made of steel. A couple of people would fit inside, if you were daft enough to do that. You put the flattened boxes in, or even better, an uncrushed box, push the button, and then it crushinates them. When it's full, the thing smashes them down so you can put some baling wire around the whole stack like a bale of hay, and then get it on a pallet so it can be taken away by the returns truck. I love this thing, especially when I get to watch the box being flattened. Sometimes I pretend I'm feeding an angry volcano god, other times I pretend it's people's heads who have annoyed me recently. It makes a lot of noise so you can't hear anyone ( sometimes that's fun). I'm starting to think that weird things entertain me. Doesn't bother me at all.

Lame or Lamb?

So maybe you've seen our cinematic extravaganza starring my lambie? He now refers to himself only in the third person. I thought it was pretty stupid, but then I like stupid, at least a certain style of it anyway. But after watching some other random YouTube videos, I feel like Spielberg or Hitchcock or even Orson Welles (that may be because I'm a little bloated today) by comparison.

I don't understand

Holidays suck. Some insane marketing veep gets a bug up his ass about increasing retail sales, and suddenly some obscure little holiday gets a new spin and it's big, big BIG. Card companies, people who make useless crap for people who go crazy for matchy-matchy anything (oh come on, you know the type: they have to have different switchplates, towels, soap, pillows, sheets, etc. for whatever stupid holiday or event comes next.), toy manufacturers, cereal companies, etc.- they all jump right on that bandwagon and peddle like there's no tomorrow. Then all the rest of us blindly swallow the guff they hand out on commercials in all the media about how necessary it is to share this lovely holiday with people who make you crazy for the most part. They show you touching commercials about the joy of_____ (fill in the stupid holiday of your choice) and before you know it, you're dabbing at your eyes with a kleenex and wishing you could celebrate with the family they show on the commercial because they're not busy screaming at each other or drinking too much, unlike your actual family. Actually, my family is pretty nice, but this doesn't seem to be the norm from what I've heard.

So we all get sucked in to this manic need to get exactly the right thing for each person on our lists, and the list keeps getting bigger as families and friends procreate their ways into geometric progression. Pretty soon, there are way too many people you're buying presents for, and people go into debt trying to afford all of them. This is crazy, people. Really. I have to admit, I really like some of the decorating bit (of course, anything involving some more shiny things and little lights is fun for me), and I enjoy getting together with everyone. But just imagine: if we didn't have to spend all that time thinking about what to get all these people, fighting the crowds at the mall trying to buy exactly the same things, we would have so much more time, money and peace of mind!

Here's what I propose: once the kids are over the age of 16 and think everything you say or do is impossibly lame anyway, skip the whole presents thing, just get together with family and friends, everyone bring a covered dish and help clean up, have a great dinner (or any other meal) together and make sure you say lots of silly things so that everyone spends a lot of time laughing, then tell everyone you love them and go home (either you or them). And put extra shiny things around with little lights on them. Just don't wait for a specific holiday. Make one up, like GOSH I'm Frustrated Monday, or Happy Mortgage Rates Just Went Down, or Look I Got A Really Pretty Shade of Lipstick Today. How about Congratulations, You're Fully Employed Now? You get the picture. Yeah, I'm not holding my breath. But it was a nice moment, wasn't it?