What a beautiful day today....

We'll probably get a foot of snow tomorrow.

I can tell my daughter is feeling better now. Already today I've had to fish a brand new roll of toilet paper out of the toilet, sweep up a box of cereal, and cut a sucker out of her hair.

She hardly had any to begin with!

Which reminds me, it's about time to post a recent picture of them on here, isn't it.

"There's a dead body in the trunk."

Thomas says to me as we're heading down the parking lot at Walmart.

"What?" I say to him. Did he really say 'dead body'?

"There's a dead body in that trunk. I saw it's arm and leg." He's serious, his brows furrowed.

"A dead body?" I question. He did say dead body.

"See," he's pointing to a car next to us as we walk past.

"We don't have time to do this Thomas, I've got to pick up groceries."

"You're just a big chicken, aren't you," he is laughing now, he thinks I'm afraid to look at the dead body. I can't help but laugh to myself. Glancing over my shoulder, I see the fake arm and leg sticking out of the trunk of the car.

Sale Stealing

The store manager stole my sale today. It totally ticked me off. When the total value of my worth is based on sales per house and units per transaction, it is necessary that I get my salesS! I never knew what retail sales people went through until I started this job.... I hate it. Those of you out there who shop at places like Dressbarn, keep in mind one important thing. When you think the sales people are being too pushy and asking too many questions, it isn't because they necessarily want to. They are forced to. When your manager is breathing down your neck watching your every move because it's time for your monthly evaluation, you have no choice.

On a positive note: I had my monthly evaluation today and the store manager said I was doing well. My yearly eval comes due next month. I can't believe I made it an entire year already....

I'm broke, thirsty, and totally irritated.....

and I really want my old template back.

I've hated working at Dressbarn long enough to discover that I really don't care whether or not I get fired for blogging. So, I'm just going to do it.

I went home sick on Tuesday. I wasn't really sick, I just didn't want to work. I could see a woman sitting out in her car waiting for us to open, no doubt with a bag full of returns and a few sorry excuses as to why she didn't want anything.

You know, I don't really care why you bought a bag full of stuff that was too small. I don't believe you when you tell me that our clothes run small.

THEY DON'T!

You're just fatter then you want to believe, tubby. And, here's another thing, if you would just try them on before you leave the story, you would know you look like a stuffed sausage in those jeans that are at least 2 sizes too small for you.

I know I shouldn't hate the public as much as I do, I just can't help it. When I have to peel bloody band aids from the wall by the shoes and wipe boogers off the mirrors in the fitting room, there is just something wrong. The public DISGUSTS me. Or, I should say, WOMEN in the public disgust me.