Taco Study

From older posts, you know by now that I love Mexican food.  Mexican food in CT sucks.  I recently went on vacation though.  I went back home.  They have Mexican food back home.  Even the fast food tacos are infinitely better. 

Let's examine.  For $.99...yep that's 99 cents...you can get a taco from Taco Bell.  I did this recently and got two of them.  See.
P.S.I don't like warm lettuce; they were kind enough to leave it off as requested.

And then there was this puny thing.

Yeah, this is a nation wide occurrence.  Cheaply made cheap food.  I wouldn't be expecting a whole heck of a lot off the value menu at Taco Bell, but with epicness like Taco John's to raise the bar...well...here's my response face to the tacos of Taco Bell:

I mentioned vacation, yes?  And Taco John's?  Well, for the same 99¢ you can get a taco that looks like this.  Except on Tuesdays...Taco Tuesdays, in which case they're only 69¢.

See that?  That is a super crispy, warm tortilla shell FULL of beef and finely shredded cheddar cheese.
And now wanna see the other taco, I bought from Taco John's?

Here ya go!

CHEEEEESE!  And it's not only that you get more; it tastes SO MUCH BETTER.  The shells are crispier, the meat is better, the cheese...you get more than 6 shreds per taco.  Getting that taco made me so happy that I looked like this:

 Next point.
You know those tasteless crunchy cardboard strips they twist before dropping them in a fryer and coating them in cinnamon flavored sugar?  The Taco Bell short cut that I assume is supposed to be a bastard cousin to the churro is such an abomination that I couldn't justify the purchase of a bag of them even for the sake of a photo to share with you.  That being said, you must experience a churro from Taco John's.  They are hot and crispy on the outside coated in cinnamon and sugar and still soft on the inside. 

Just one bite of these things can do this to me:

These results aren't the only results you can get from a churro.  If you let them fall into the wrong hands, you can unleash a churro-monster.  These monsters are vicious creatures that, when denied the yummy churro they crave, will be willing to devour human flesh.  My daughter is one of these dreaded churro-monsters.  When she is in the clutches of churro craving, she can look a bit like this:

Don't believe me?  See for yourself.

Words are a funny thing.

I know it has been a while since my last blog post, but I do live with more than one internet addict, and I have been reading a lot and...oh, you know. Having overwhelming laziness overtake whole days.

I do have a few new events to share with you though.  Mostly revolving around words this time.  Or the times when words don't work.  I happen to be from the south and some phrases here just get under my skin.  I don't mind them for what they are, but the repetition of them can drive me crazy.  Especially when the phrase can mean different things, I end up not knowing what exactly is going on.  If someone here up north happened to ask me if I was "all set," I honestly don't know the appropriate response to that because I don't know what they're asking.  Seems stupid, huh.  Well, let me put you in my situation and see if you change your mind.

I was at work a few weeks ago, I was the one assigned to work register, while my manager Bob was taking care of a transaction only a manager could do...when Mammoth (we'll call him) decided to just stand at a register (to snag my customers, therefore stealing my sales).  See?

 

Remember now if you will that I'm the one on registers.  Mammoth is just being a dick taking my add-ons and up-sales.  So Bob's customer comes back followed by a guy that stands a good 6 feet behind her.  If he was in line, he would come to my register.  Right?  But Mammoth tries to pull him over to his register with the question "Are you all set?" (In this case, that means "are you ready to check out?")

Since he was with Bob's customer he doesn't need to pay for anything.  "I'm all set," here means "I'm just waiting for her, I need no assistance."

So I'm angry at Mammoth's interference with my responsibilities and I'm attempting to tell him I've got it covered up front when another customer walks up, but stands behind the guy waiting for his lady friend.

He ignores me and once again asks "all set" which means "are you ready to check out."  Miss Yellow is concerned because Mr. Blue was there first.

 

"He's all set."  Which means, he does NOT need to check out.  This means now that the Miss Yellow is all set.  Whatever.  I'm ready to tear my ears off just to get Mammoth's blubbering voice to stop with that god-awful phrase.  I'm not even mad that he took my customer anymore.  But just when I thought it was safe...

Wait...now being "all set" means "finished with a transaction and ready to leave the store."  I can't do this.



On a lighter note though.  Sometimes words can make you think things that make the situation funnier than it really is.  I was eating sushi at a Thai restaurant with a few people when one of them starts playing with the chopsticks.

I ignore it for a minute, because guys will be guys.  I'm not the most patient of people sometimes.

Ok, so the tapping stopped, but I was still in for it.

OK, so now I'm trying my best not to laugh too loudly.  You guys get the joke, yes?


Not always are words the most important part of an interaction.  My brother and I were sitting on the couch watching a movie.  Just hanging out...see?

After a few minutes, my new puppy tried to jump on the couch.  She's still really young and rowdy and hyper and irritating, so I didn't want to hold her.  I just give her head a nudge so she'd get down.

Wow, she listened.

But not for long...

She scratched the hell out of my leg trying to get up so I had to knock some sense into her.

 

She seemed like she got the message, but was still pretty twichy.  Maybe she'd stay off me and the couch.  Silly me.

Good GOD!  She must have RABIES!  Or, I knocked her retarded.  I recently read a book where a woman was knocked insane, and after another head injury she was back to normal.  Maybe that would work here. Though, I could just be making excuses to smack her.  She scratched me again and I was worried she'd tear up my leather couch.  I was pissed.

Seeing red, I was.  She never listens.

Evidently, my brother was too.

He kneed Delilah in the head, but I slapped the hell out of his leg.

Oh, and let me introduce you to my brother, Bub.  He will be gracing this blog a few more times I'm sure.  Our adventures deserve some blog recognition.

The Lily Collection

I have been spending a lot of time with Lily, my little girl.  Mostly because she is my little girl, but also because my hubby has been gone for quite a while.  Military, eh.  She is teaching me a great many things.  The first is adaptability.  I made her a cape for Halloween.  It was epic.  She was Little Red Riding Hood.

Super cute, yeah.  Well, Halloween is over and I'm not in the habit of making her many things to wear, so she decided to take that little cape to the next level.  Instead of being sad she couldn't be Little Red any more, she became a super hero.

For the past month and a half I have a tiny human running through my house yelling "TO THE RESCUE."  She never seems to rescue anything.  Watching her run in that though reminds me of when the hobbits were running for the little raft in the first Lord of the Rings movie.

Speaking of small and tiny humans.  I have also learned from her that it is never a good idea to take technology for granted.  She and I went to the commissary recently.  Lily likes to walk in the grocery instead of riding in the cart.  So, instead of walking to the cart return next to the front doors, she heads into the building. 

I wasn't really worried about her walking a few feet in front of me until I realized just how bad of an idea sending a 3 foot tall 30 lb kid through automatic doors.  Instead of freaking out when the doors started closing just as she was standing in between the closing doors, I ran pushing the cart I had hoping the sensor would see me coming and open before Lily got mashed.

I did make it in time.  No mashed baby, and she was still clueless about the nature of these evil doors.  Judging by the horrified look on the face of the woman I almost ran into, the above illustration isn't what she saw.  She may have believed her presence saved a little girls life.  Surely, the following illustration is what she thought she saw.

Well, she may have thought she saved Lily's life, and that's OK.  I'm not going to act like I haven't wanted to mow Lily down with a shopping cart.  I would never do such a thing.  I do get frustrated with her.  Especially lately.  With her daddy gone on military work, she has become very needy and clingy.  I feel like every few seconds I hear her calling my name.  Rather, she's calling my "Mama" name.  I've told her before I'm going to change my name to something she can't pronounce. 

Never mind how obnoxious or attention hungry she may seem, I do love every minute with her.  Unless it's minute 9872348295.93.  In which case, you may refer to the above illustration.

Some Things Should Not Happen

I like to think I'm an OK driver.  I pay attention, follow the traffic laws, and most importantly, I'm a defensive driver.  This means I watch out for other people doing stupid things, even if I have the right of way.  Let's test some common sense.

OK, so this is a basic diagram of an intersection I drive through every day when I pick up my daughter after I leave work.  I'm usually caught by a red light in lane A.  So I wait my turn with my left turn signal on.  Assuming the red dots are red lights, and the green arrows are the green arrow lights for lanes A and B, it is correct for lanes A and B to accelerate and turn left and go about their business, right?

No.  It is not correct.  Before accelerating and turning left, you must check the other lanes for on coming traffic.  No matter how red their light is, you must still check.

It is necessary for you to check the other lanes, because lane C is frequented by unsafe drivers, also known as idiots.  Before I drove off from my position in lane A, I was cut off by a car turning left from lane C.  Not only was I cut off by some jerk running a red light in lane C, well...just look.

I was cut off by THREE FREAKIN' CARS!  All while my light was green...and theirs was red.  Red does still mean stop.  And while sitting there thinking of the injustice of the whole situation, I became more and more upset.  By the time Car 3 drove by my car, this is the view they had of me in my car:

Situations like this should not happen.  I never once set foot into a drivers' education class, but I have the common sense to stop on red and go (after checking my surroundings) when the light turns green.


Another situation that shouldn't happen is hitting a little closer to home.  Actually, this happened in my home just the other day.

This is my little girl's room.  Messy...always covered in books, blankies, anything that can be used in arts/crafts, toys, and anything she pulled out of her closet.  In a moment of incredible discipline, I decided to clean my house.  I cleaned her room and started catching up on laundry.  This is a big deal.  I really dislike laundry.  It was worth it.  I like for Silly Bug to have a clean room. 

Looks nice, doesn't it.  Silly Bug was excited about it because she was helping Mamma pick up the toys and other things she left in her bedroom floor.  She likes being helpful.


I finished cleaning Silly Bug's room and took her dirty clothes and blankies into the laundry room where I started folding the freshly dried load of laundry straight out of the dryer.  About that time I hear Silly Bug yelling to me.

I don't mind letting her have snacks.  I even have a whole section in the door of the refrigerator full of things she's allowed to have for snacks right where she can see them.

When I heard her open the refrigerator door, I didn't mind.  Not only does she like to be helpful, she also likes to feel independent.  So I finished folding the last few items in the dryer (because if I didn't do it then, I wouldn't do it EVER) before I went to see if Silly Bug got her cheese snack.

Here's the part that shouldn't happen.  I find Silly Bug in her newly cleaned room.  She didn't have cheese.  She didn't have any of her designated snacks...

...and she had made a very big mess.

My motivation did not endure.  I cleaned up the eggs...but the rest of the laundry and her egg covered jammies got as much attention as the red light in lane C.

Work

I've mentioned a couple times that I really dislike my job.  I figured I might as well get it out of the way and tell you why.  For one, I have a college degree I'm not using.  For two, I'm in retail.  The rest should be self explanatory.  Outside work, I'm pretty cool.  At work, I believe my happiness drains as soon as I clock in.  Visual aid is hardly necessary...but here goes.

I wouldn't say that it's just working in general that makes me less than blissful.  I don't like the general masses of people I have to deal with every day.  Not to say I'm antisocial and mean; I have actually had some great conversations with customers who come in the store.  Talking about good movies, good music, and zombies all day...yeah, there are way worse ways to throw away my potential in life.  There are those fair few, though.  You know the ones.  The creepers that don't respect your personal space or the hag with death breath.  Those are bad enough, but then the simpletons come out to play.

I will admit, I'm always tempted to say no.

Enough about how the general mall-going public can suck.  Let's talk employers.  As soon as I walk into the store on my first day back to work since my non-biological sister's visit, my boss says, "Jeni, read this over and sign it.  One more strike will result in termination."  Yeah, sure, I don't really think it'll break my heart.  I've never kept a job for more than 6 months (except the one at the funeral home that didn't pay me).  The next day:

So, they are seriously ready to fire their most recent Employee of the Month.  Whatever.  I can sell people anything as long as I have time to talk to them, and no manager standing around.  It seems every time I make any kind of mistake, my 2nd in command manager is around and she yells at me in front of customers and I'm really f***ing sick of it, but I have these things called responsibilities, and unfortunately, those responsibilities require money.  I can't quit.  I just quit my last job 3 months ago.  However, if the bookstore I just applied to calls me back, ZOOM!  I'm out.

Keep Your Excitement Under Control

I know it can be difficult for one to contain one's excitement.  Sometimes that excitement becomes apparent to those around you.  When that happens, it is possible that the situation can become awkward, embarrassing, or as I'm about to illustrate for you, shocking. 

I'm a good cook.  I'm not an Iron Chef, but for a home cook, I can do magic.  My non-biological sister came to visit me recently and I had made a pumpkin pie.  Let's watch as the scene unwinds.

After watching a bit of Iron Chef (the original one), we headed to the kitchen in a team effort to secure a piece of pie for each of us.

We grab some of the necessary supplies, like plates and forks, but she was standing in front of my knife drawer.  I have no problem asking for help when I need it, so I asked her to grab a knife for me to slice us some pumpkin pie.

Watch closely, here you're going to see her excitement hit a high note and become apparent (not that I blame her; even my pie crust recipe is flawless).

After the initial shock of seeing her with a knife fit for a 2 lb steak mean for a pie you could cut with an uncooked noodle, I laughed so hard I cried.

Moral:  Keep your excitement at a low simmer or uncontainable laughter will ensue.

Spider Nest

I'm not a big fan of work.  I actually really dislike my job.  I usually go out to my car while on break and read or play around on the internet via my phone for half an hour.  It's much needed relaxation and stress relief at it's best.  Today, I went out to my Explorer and got my peanut butter and jelly sandwich out of my purse as well as my bottle of water.  All ready to enjoy my pb&j and my book, I felt a little tickle.

Sometimes, a stray hair will fall loose from my ponytail and itch or tickle me, but this wasn't quite the same.

Yes, there was definitely something very wrong with this itch...it was moving...between my boobs.

 

Bracing myself for possibly the worst case scenario, I glance down.

Yes, as you may well have guessed by the picture or at least the blog title, it was a freaking spider.  I flailed, jumped, smacked at my boobs, and genuinely freaked out.  I'm not afraid of spiders...I'm afraid of spiders on my bare skin.  Especially the skin of such sensitive nature.

Not only was my pride and dignity squashed in the floor board of my Explorer, so was my sandwich.  Dammit.  This is all to say nothing of the crappy day I had at work inside the actual building.