EFFING Craft Section ATTACKED Me.

Boss Lady and Ex Man were deep in discussions about what they should do with the store. How they should move stuff, what they should promote… About an hour in, I stopped participating, and the Boss Lady said “Clean up the craft section.”

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.

I like crafts. I am an artist. I see potential in all the things! But cleaning this wall is a total pain in the ass. 

AND I got attacked by a pink wicker basket that was shoved in here, RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE FINGER.

And although it was fun to show my “Eff You” finger with a tiny pink splinter all day, it was all the Sweet Effing Painful. And I still had to clean this fucking disaster.

I did it. But there was a cartload of garbage in there, and shit that was shoved in there that didn’t belong in crafts at all. But I touched all the damned things! ALL THE DAMNED THINGS!

This is how I spent my last day before Christmas horrordays, and before layoffs.

Luckily, a handsome man who loves me helped me attack the pink splinter in my “Eff You” finger and we got that fucker out.

Eff You, Pink Splinter. Eff You.

Grace.

Dat Devil's Got Back

Whole lotta Mary’s goin’ on.

Everybody prayin’ for the cutest little bowling devil you ever did see. Got his golden bowling ball, with a lotta wear and tear on it. Steeee-rike!  The Mary’s and Jesus stayed at the thrift store. But, the little Devil came home with me. Why?

Dat Ass

Nearly lay off time. I’m done on Friday. What the FECK am I going to write about then????

Grace.

A Merry Shit-Less Christmas.

So, all year long, I’m pretty much on the “De-materialize Christmas!” soap box. Loudly.

And all year, I do pretty awesomely with it. I mean, I really MEAN it all year long.

And then THIS fucking week happens. This week, before Christmas, where I sort of freak out a little bit. Because, I feel pressured to get SHIT for PEOPLE.

I’ve been doing Christmas pretty much “shit-less” for about 4 or 5 years. But still. There are children in the family. And then I feel like a cock. I mean, I bake them cookies. But that’s it.

Anyway. Luckily I had a Beautiful Man with me when the urge to get out my credit card hit, and he reminded me  who I am.

And, I’m fucking PAGAN. I don’t know why I let this shit get to me at ALL.

When I am independantly wealthy, I will TOTALLY be that bitch that either:

a) leaves town during the holidays, or

b) just TELLS everyone I’ve left for the holidays, but really I hide out at home reading and having long hot baths till it’s all over.

Grace.

Hulk Smashy Smashy

So, I whip around the corner and almost run into THIS:

Are. You. Fucking. Kidding.

?????????

Incase you are not sure of what you are seeing, just as I was, THIS, my friends, is a TOWER OF PLATES. Also known as TOWER OF SMASHY SMASHY ALL OVER THE TILE FLOOR.

Now, the Ex-Man in general is PRETTY good at displaying shit. He’s good with moving shit around so it all fits, and deciding where to put the big stuff, and sometimes he’s pretty ingenious. But, What The Fuck? Sometimes.. no. Just no.

The plates are wedged into a thin and light metal stand intended for DVD’s or maybe video games. And just barely. If you take a good look at the pic, you can see that the little black metal piece hangs on to basically a little more than the lip.

No one is going to shop for plates this way. I know I wouldn’t. And I’m going to bet the first person who DOES try to remove some plates from this monstrosity will surely take them from the bottom, making this bitch top heavy, and SMASHY SMASHY. All over the tile floor.

I just can’t go on. I mean, I COULD, but it would be more of the same.

Grace.

Cock In Hand.

THIS came into the thrift store. Ex Man, the Boss Lady’s Ex, was working with me when it came out of a box. We laughed our asses off. Because seriously. It’s a statue of a guy with his cock in his hand. LOOK.

He’s just standing there, contemplating the world… maybe what he’ll have for lunch, or what chores he’ll do today.. with his cock in hand. LOOK. That’s not a bottle. it’s even stained the same colour as his arms. Cock poking out of his pants.

What was even BETTER? Ex Man put a price on this dirty fuck, and put it on the shelf. At least 4 little old ladies picked it up and oohed and aahed over how it was a REAL wood carving. Do you know how HARD it was to NOT lose my shit when they all said “Real Wood.”????

Life is Good.

Grace.

P.S. I’m pretty sure I get laid off from the thrift store in a week. After Christmas, it gets pretty quiet over there. They are gonna close for the week of the 23rd to the 27th for Christmas holidays. I have no idea how I’ll entertain myself until Spring.

Merry CHRIStmas and Yule Tide Greetingz. With a Zed.

So, I arrived at work to see that the Boss Lady broke out the window crayons, and decorated the front door. With “Merry Chrismas.” I laughed. Because there was no T. Personally, I thought it somewhat appropriate that she should wish me to have mass over Chris’, but I fixed it anyway. Because I knew we’d catch flack from the Jesus People.  Check out how artistically I squeezed in that T.

Then, I decided, since I’m pagan, I should add my own sentiment. Yule Tide Greetings! And I laughed equally at myself for fucking up the S.  I totally left it there. Like a Zed.

Also, if you look, you’ll see my reflection in the window. Those are some sexy little work boots I have going on with my jeans. It’s a wonder I leave work without a date every day. Ha!

Grace.