Some magical day, I will live in a house where the stove burners are larger than 3" in diameter.
And I'll also have more than 2 square feet of counter space. And my counter top won't shed gigantic serrated splinters. I'm so demandy.
I had to go to the craft store today to buy some crap and they had a little sign soliciting part-time staff. I thought for a moment about how blissful it would be to spend my days rearranging the aisles full of tiny bits of stuff all organized by color, which is even more fantastic than alphabetical order. I'm actually not kidding, that would be so deeply relaxing and satisfying, even though it's all impractical; it's the order and structure of the items that's beautiful(omg like math--did zombies eat my brain?)...sigh. But then I was in line and this lady set down a gigantic bow. Enormous. Larger than my head, very loopy and velvety and gold-embroidered, like something you'd pin to the family St. Bernard in your Christmas photo card accompanied by impersonal newsletter printed on green paper in Kringle Regular font (still with the drugs). And she was all, "ain't this sposed to have a loop in the middle of it? Bows're sposed to have a loop in the middle. I want a discount." She folded her arms and did that half-step back thing that you used to do when you fought about gossip on the playground. The poor cashier was so obviously not giving a shit about a stupid bow and I thought, "that there is what would drive me to spectacular homicide if I actually had this job." They wouldn't let me obsessively arrange embroidery floss skeins when there are MISSHAPEN BOWS to attend to. And I would have to say to that woman," lady, there are seven people in this line, this bow is ugly regardless of its center, and the two dollar discount it will take me ten minutes to arrange with the store manager isn't really going to make a difference in your overall holiday spending if you can afford to blow fifteen bucks on a tacky piece of ribbon in the first place." Not that I would actually say that out loud. I would just think it behind my eyes, and apparently I'm not good at hiding those things in my evil, evil gaze--according to my former former supervisor. Seriously though, craft store? Who the fuck thinks it is an important life task to fill that place up? All I needed was something that should've been available at the hardware store but wasn't, because they're douchebags, and I was overwhelmed. I wandered into the scrapbooking section, and I have to say, if there are people out there who make full, full use of the materials available there, I wonder what in the hell they could be scrapbooking, because they surely don't have the time to have a life, what with all the riveting and crimping and punching and glittering and gluing and stamping...
I think this is maybe coming across mean-spirited-ly, which it's not meant to be at all; I am easily frustrated when I am sensorily overwhelmed. Also, I'm sure that having pleasant hobbies and interests other than sleeping and sleeping as avoidance are actually really normal, healthy fun things for people. My perception is mightily flawed. And I must admit, I'm not at all averse to the aisle full of glitter and rhinestones in rainbow colors. I would not be averse to dipping myself in glue and rolling around in said aisle; I think it would make me significantly more fantastic, if a bit messy at parties. So in that way, I do see a purpose in the craft store, despite its uselessness in the Grand Scheme of Things. I need synonyms for "stuff" and "uselessness." I also need a good thesaurus, because the Internets is not helping.
I had to go to the craft store today to buy some crap and they had a little sign soliciting part-time staff. I thought for a moment about how blissful it would be to spend my days rearranging the aisles full of tiny bits of stuff all organized by color, which is even more fantastic than alphabetical order. I'm actually not kidding, that would be so deeply relaxing and satisfying, even though it's all impractical; it's the order and structure of the items that's beautiful(omg like math--did zombies eat my brain?)...sigh. But then I was in line and this lady set down a gigantic bow. Enormous. Larger than my head, very loopy and velvety and gold-embroidered, like something you'd pin to the family St. Bernard in your Christmas photo card accompanied by impersonal newsletter printed on green paper in Kringle Regular font (still with the drugs). And she was all, "ain't this sposed to have a loop in the middle of it? Bows're sposed to have a loop in the middle. I want a discount." She folded her arms and did that half-step back thing that you used to do when you fought about gossip on the playground. The poor cashier was so obviously not giving a shit about a stupid bow and I thought, "that there is what would drive me to spectacular homicide if I actually had this job." They wouldn't let me obsessively arrange embroidery floss skeins when there are MISSHAPEN BOWS to attend to. And I would have to say to that woman," lady, there are seven people in this line, this bow is ugly regardless of its center, and the two dollar discount it will take me ten minutes to arrange with the store manager isn't really going to make a difference in your overall holiday spending if you can afford to blow fifteen bucks on a tacky piece of ribbon in the first place." Not that I would actually say that out loud. I would just think it behind my eyes, and apparently I'm not good at hiding those things in my evil, evil gaze--according to my former former supervisor. Seriously though, craft store? Who the fuck thinks it is an important life task to fill that place up? All I needed was something that should've been available at the hardware store but wasn't, because they're douchebags, and I was overwhelmed. I wandered into the scrapbooking section, and I have to say, if there are people out there who make full, full use of the materials available there, I wonder what in the hell they could be scrapbooking, because they surely don't have the time to have a life, what with all the riveting and crimping and punching and glittering and gluing and stamping...
I think this is maybe coming across mean-spirited-ly, which it's not meant to be at all; I am easily frustrated when I am sensorily overwhelmed. Also, I'm sure that having pleasant hobbies and interests other than sleeping and sleeping as avoidance are actually really normal, healthy fun things for people. My perception is mightily flawed. And I must admit, I'm not at all averse to the aisle full of glitter and rhinestones in rainbow colors. I would not be averse to dipping myself in glue and rolling around in said aisle; I think it would make me significantly more fantastic, if a bit messy at parties. So in that way, I do see a purpose in the craft store, despite its uselessness in the Grand Scheme of Things. I need synonyms for "stuff" and "uselessness." I also need a good thesaurus, because the Internets is not helping.