Monday, December 10, 2007

Hooray for holidays.

Ahhhh, the holidays. That magical time of year when we get together with the ones we love and make total asses out of ourselves.

*During the drive to a relatives house, I will inevitably be criticized by backseat drivers who have no business being in a car with me in the first place. My mother will scream at me to make a left, because she's absolutely certain that's the way to go. My father will outscream her and tell me to make a right, whichever I choose will be the wrong choice, guaranteed.

*Family members will rudely ask me about my personal life, because obviously it's their business.

*My mother will say something completely innapropriate at a family gathering and not even care.

*My cat will rip off the face of an unsuspecting young child who just wanted to "pet the kitty" (my cat doesn't like you; please don't touch him).

*Someone will get drunk and fall down the stairs. It will probably be me.

*I will call my cousins boyfriend "Tom" when his name is actually "Joe", not knowing that she dumped Tom 3 days prior for Joe. She will cry, it will be my fault.

*A family member will give me the gift of a shirt that is 5 times too big for me, insinuating that I am a fat cow. I will cry and skip my 3rd helping of dessert.

*Everyone will bring a "dish" to dinner, except for me of course, because I am 25 and can't make toast.

*The Christmas tree will fall over on my 97 year old grandmother, who never saw it coming because she was passed out drunk anyway.

*My relatives who swore they'd be there on time will be 2 hours late, and since it is "rude" to eat without everyone present, I will be forced to drive to McDonalds to get a double quarter pounder, which will end up all over my holiday dress.

My dear friends, I hope your holidays run smoothly, and I hope you get everything you wished for. May your days be merry and bright, and may all your Christmases be white!

Or not, because it sucks to drive in the snow.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

My amazing adventures at Costco.

I am not very familiar with Costco. My boss took me there when I first started my job to get a membership and get my picture taken and the whole hoopla, but that was the only time I was ever there. I decided to go back yesterday to get a festive holiday basket filled with goodies. It was kind of a disaster.

First of all, the Costco near my work is in the worst possible location, and it is almost unreachable by car. It is right near 202 and Mall Boulevard in King of Prussia, which is a very tricky spot to be getting in and out of. Once you get there, you realize very quickly that the parking lot is way too small, and that the chances of your car being hit by another car are 99.9%, which is a ridiculously high percentage, but it's true.

Anyway, I found a parking spot and made my way towards the entrance. The first door I hit was the "EXIT" door, but you are not in any way, shape, or form allowed to pass through that door unless you are indeed exiting. So I made my way to the "ENTRANCE" door, to be greeted by a little old man who will not let me enter the store because my Costco card with my ghastly picture on it is not visible. He makes me stand out in the freezing cold to rummage through my purse and wallet until find the card. After about 5 minutes of looking, I would think perhaps he would just tell me to come inside, but no, I must remain outside in 3 degree weather until I find this hideous card. I finally find it, I show it to him, and he lets me through.

Once I get inside, I have no idea where to go. There is no rhyme or reason to this store, everything is everywhere. I make my way over to the spot where my boss took me the last time we were here, which is where I am supposed to find festive holiday baskets. Alas, everything has been moved. In place of the baskets I find a plethora of memory foam slippers and 35 dollar down pillows. I make a mental note of the location of the pillows for future reference.

After wandering aimlessly around the store for 25 minutes, I finally spot the festive holiday baskets. I pick one up to inspect it, only to find out that none of them are marked with prices. I throw a mini temper tantram in the aisle for 5 minutes before realizing that all prices are above the objects. How the hell was I supposed to know? I choose the basket that is within my price range, and I pick it up to see exactly what kind of goodies are inside. And as I am standing there, unmoving in my spot, the ugliest woman I have ever seen drives her cart directly into my body. I am so astonished by this, seeing as how I had been standing there, stationary, in my spot for at least 30 seconds. It's not like she was even going that fast, or like she was coming around a corner and just didn't see me.... nor was I standing in the middle of the aisle, taking up the whole aisle like a big fat cow. I guess she just felt like she could push me out of her way, literally. As the cart struck my left hip, she tried to act surprised, and said, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you." What does she mean she didn't see me? What could she possibly MEAN by that? I had been standing in the same spot for 30 seconds, as she was meandering down the aisle with her cart, slowly inspecting each item in the aisle! You knew I was there, crazy woman, I had been there for at least 30 seconds. I just said, "It's ok" and walked away with my basket. I didn't feel like getting into a fight at Costco.

I made my way over to the registers, and it was a nightmare. Every single person in the King of Prussia area was in the check out line at Costco on this particular day. I picked the slowest moving line possible, of course, and it also happened to be the one with all of the Scrooges in it, complaining that the line was too long. Look, we all know that it's a long line, there is no need to talk about it loudly so that everyone else can hear you. Do you think that will make the line move faster? Because it won't.

I am next in line, and I realize that Costco checkout lines are different than any other checkout line I am used to. Your items go on the belt, you go in one line, and your cart goes in another line. A Costco guy comes and escorts your cart to the other end of the line, where he will stock your cart with your purchases of the day. I get to the checkout woman, and she holds her hand out.... ohmygod, she wants my Costco card. What the hell did I do with it? Did that crazy little man ever give it back to me? Sure he did.... but what did I do with it? I check my wallet, but no, it never made it back into my wallet. I dump my purse out onto the register, but it's not there either... I stick my hand in my coat pocket, and much to my delight, I pull out the card. The grumpy old man behind me is muttering about how long I am taking. I, of course, ignore him because he is old and his opinions do not matter to me. I give her the card, give her my money, and the guy who is stocking my cart THROWS my festive holiday basket into my cart like he is slam dunking a basketball. I make my over to the "EXIT" door, and there is woman there, who will not let you leave the store until she sees your receipt. Of course I've already lost my receipt, even though I just left the register. I find it in my pocket with the Costco card. I angrily shove it in her face, she marks it with a black pen, and lets me leave. I then wonder if there is a final test I must pass before I can completely leave the store and forget this whole horrible experience ever happened. But no, no one checks to make sure that I have a black pen mark on my receipt, so I cross the parking lot to get to my car.

And wouldn't you know, the hideous woman who hit my left hip with her cart has parked her monstrous minivan next to my little car, and she has all of her damn doors open as she loads her ONE item into her minivan. I had to wait for her to close all of her doors before I could get into my car. It is 3 degrees out, and all I want to do is punch this woman in the face.

I drive over to the hotel that I actually bought the basket for (it's a giveaway for a monthly drawing). I take it over to the manager, and as I am getting ready to tell him about my horrific experience, he says, "I don't like that basket".

This is my life.

Screw you Costco, for ruining my day.