Tag Archives: people are weird

How to Properly Use the Grocery Belt Divider

The fact that the employees at my local grocery store know me and ask where I’ve been if I don’t stop in every couple days gives you an indication of how often I’m at the store.

But don’t worry.

This won’t be about how watching some people use the self-checkout is like watching fish ride a bike or how people still don’t know how to go up and down an aisle. 

No, this is about the plastic grocery belt dividers.


I enjoy the grocery belt divider for the practicality and simplicity it provides.

Placed on the belt, it divides my order from the one in front and the one in back. There should be no confusion as to where one order starts and one order ends. If for some reason confusion does arise, it’s not hard to clarify and say, “Oh, that’s not my stuff.”

However, there are still people who are entirely too concerned that the cashier will confuse their things with the next persons, protectively creating about two feet of extra “empty” grocery belt space between their order and the divider.

Intercom announcement to this person ahead of me: I did not load up my cart and assume that I could sneak 25 items to the end of your order, dupe you into paying for them and then follow you out to the parking lot to retrieve said items.

But with that said, I do have an issue with the people behind me from time to time. While I don’t exhibit the behavior mentioned above and graciously place the divider at the end of my order, this is apparently not enough for some people. No, instead of waiting for the cashier to move the belt along, they insist on using every single square inch of belt space up to the plastic divider.

This I can overlook, as it’s their own bread they’re squishing in an effort to unload their cart at warp speed.

What I can’t overlook is when they insist on using every single square inch of personal space past the plastic divider, creeping up closer to me with their cart and sighing so heavily at the apparent lack of cashier expediency that it blows my coupons off the checkout stand.

Intercom announcement to this person behind of me: Regardless of how close you creep up or how many items you throw on the belt, you will be next—after me.

If you continue to creep up, I will pretend to go through my coupon keeper for an extraordinary amount of time, chit chat with the cashier and lift up the plastic divider and put it back down repeatedly under the guise of making room for a pack of gum I am actually just using as a prop to piss you off.

But because I’m all about solutions, I propose that instead of the grocery belt divider, we install a plastic divider in the LINE to keep the person behind me from creeping up and invading my bubble.

It could be like a shower curtain or one of those things you walk through at sporting events that simply lifts up and down when appropriate.

Now I realize this plastic divider could be symbolic of the way our society is divided and that unity can only be achieved when we remove these barriers, blah, blah, blah. People who think that are insane. I’m all about being friendly, but we need personal space—on the grocery belt and in the line.

Intercom announcement: Until they install these new plastic people dividers, please just back your shit up.

Unless, of course, you would like to pay for my produce. In that case, I welcome you with open arms and an open grocery belt.

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The Anatomy of a Garage Sale

Since we’re officially into summer now, I figured it was a good time to revisit my thoughts on the garage sale. I don’t know how it is where you live, but it seems I can’t drive 100 feet without seeing a cardboard sign with an arrow pointing me towards the sale of the century each weekend.

If you’ve never actually put on a garage sale yourself and tried to convince people they need to buy the crap you just don’t want, allow me to clue you in as to just how much fun they can be. I conducted a yard sale myself a couple years ago and feel I’ve recovered enough to talk about my experience.

The Night Before: You stay up late making tiny price tag stickers for all the junk you’re hoping people will buy. You’re naively psychotically optimistic, calculating the total value of your “inventory” at slightly over $5,000, give or take what you can get for those old curtains that came with the house you found stored in the attic.

6:30 a.m. The garage sale is scheduled to begin at 8 am, but a woman pounds on your door and tell you she “likes to get an early start.”  When you walk outside to let her “window shop,” you notice that there are five other cars in your driveway.

6:35 a.m. One of those cars is your crazy uncle—a black belt in flea markets, weekend auctions and roaming the beach with a metal detector—who is there to help manage the situation. He immediately lays claim to a yard tool he forgot he gave you last week.

9:30 a.m. You’ve sold a few things but are already annoyed with the fact that everything isn’t sold and you’re not counting your riches. A shopper offers you a dollar for your lawnmower that is brand new and not for sale.

You ask him to leave.

10 a.m. You look for your uncle and find him drinking Busch Light in a can and offering extras to shoppers for $1 a piece. He tells you he has sold three beers. At 10 a.m.

Noon: You leave the operation in the hands of your uncle/concession seller and go inside to get some lunch. A stranger knocks on your back door and asks to try on some T-shirts for sale, and another wants to know if you have “weenies to go with the beer.”

You ask them to leave.

12:30 p.m. When you return to the sale, you find your uncle slightly manic because he has sold a shovel, a set of garden tools and a hose for 50 cents each. You tell him that they weren’t for sale in the first place. He replies that he wondered why there were no price tags.

You ask him to leave. Of course, he won’t.

2 p.m. A group of college boys will stop by and start trying on some of your clothes in the driveway, conducting their own drag queen fashion show. Your mom will attempt to stuff dollar bills into their bejeweled belts (priced at 50 cents) and your uncle will offer them beer.

They are cute. You will not ask them to leave. In fact, you will give them the clothes, a few other items and several pathetic come-hither stares.

2:30 p.m. You decide things are taking entirely too long and start drastically slashing prices like an overzealous mattress salesman who does his own commercials. In fact, you just start giving stuff away and find that’s entirely more fun, especially because it pisses off your crazy neighbor lady who is trying to sell a holographic palm tree for $50.

4 p.m. You’re done. It’s hard to know what your take is for the day because at some point your uncle apparently sold the cash box. However, you find a dollar your mom dropped during the impromptu frat boy fashion show and seek out your uncle, who is digging through your “junk I’m throwing away” pile.

4:05 p.m. You buy a beer.

4:06 p.m. You vow never to do this again.

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Common Scents Cardio

There are certain things that annoy me about going to the gym, and 99.9 percent of those things are actually people.


And this is probably the other .1 percent.

But seeing as I do not own the gym or live in a serene bubble of immunity from stupidity, I put on my big girl yoga pants and sports bra—not hard, considering I’m probably wearing them anyway—and deal with them. However, there are general annoyances and then there are things that just don’t need to happen.

I bring this up because of one particular instance in the cardio room the other day in which I was on the stationary bike positioned in front of the treadmills. Seeing as I was the only one in there, I put on a HAZMAT suit to grab the TV remote to turn on something good to distract me.

Now let’s just say that there are a few members of the gym that everyone knows to be weirdos.

I don’t mean to sound harsh, but these are the people that when you see their car in the parking lot, you figure your cardio will be ducking away from their conversations about diminishing pension plans, the color of their bruised and battered toe nail or anything else they can complain about.

On this particular day in question one of those gentlemen was on the treadmill behind me, drinking coffee while strolling along. Yes, he sips coffee while walking on the treadmill.

All of the sudden a horrible stench wafted through the air. It was only the two of us in the cardio room, so I knew that this guy had farted. Now I know things can slip out from time to time, so I held my breath for a second or two and dismissed it as no big deal.

But then it happened again. And again.

There is only so much one can take, so I started glancing behind me in that subtle, “I know you just farted and I’m trying not to gag” way I hoped would prove effective despite a history of ineffectiveness.

When another odorous breeze wafted up a minute later, I took to the less-subtle but often more effective “what the hell is your problem, dude?” gesture of pulling my T-shirt up over my nose in hopes of eeking out a gasp of fresh air.

At that point the Fart Factory gave a little laugh and said, “Ha. Is that me? Sorry about that. Must be the coffee.”

Was that him? The only other person in this room? And “it must be the coffee?” Then perhaps one should refrain from sipping Starbucks while plodding along in a bubble of odorous obliviousness, good sir!

At that point I just removed my shirt from my nose, gave one glance back in my, “I’ll give a small smile now as long as you cut that shit out” way I was hoping would discourage future flatulence through the sheer intensity of my gaze.

Thankfully from that point on the oxygen supply remained flatulence free, and I wasn’t subjected to the paranoia of someone else walking in and thinking that stench was from me.

After all, I don’t think it’s too much to ask that you only break a sweat and not break wind. It’s really just common sense—and scents.

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13 Gym Tips for 2013

If you belong to a gym, you know the New Years crowd will soon descend upon the facility. Machines will be busy, the parking lot will be full and for a good two months the place will swell with momentary motivation, testosterone and a lingering scent of body odor.


Those who stick around will soon become initiated with certain people and unspoken rules of the gym. And while I’ve talked about this before, it bears repeating as the new crowd looms large.

So if you’re new to the gym scene, here’s a stereotypical primer.

  1. Some women will primp before the gym and then walk around without actually lifting a weight. Remind them that telling everyone about their fitness plan won’t make them healthier unless they’re doing it door to door — they love that.
  2. With men, you may see Hammer pants and fanny packs paired stylishly with weight belts and wrestling shoes. Do not be alarmed! This is apparently a conscious decision on the part of the “bodybuilder” and any attempts to suggest otherwise will be frowned upon.
  3. Outbursts and primal grunting are perfectly accepted and often encouraged with statements like, “You got this!” and “Lift that shit!” Interject your own encouragement like “Hugs not drugs!”— they love that.
  4. Chit chat may occur, but only when the other person is resting in between sets. If you are in the middle of an exercise, plan on someone asking you a question completely unrelated and irrelevant.
  5. If you’re anything like me, Sundays at the gym will consist of 50 percent of people talking about how hungover they are, 49 percent of people pretending to listen and you.
  6. People will be wearing iPods and the like, oblivious to the fact that if they sing, we can hear them. Join in — it’s fun for all!
  7. People will write things down. They will do one set of pull-downs and after flexing in the mirror to admire the results of those eight reps of awesomeness, they will record it in their little notebook. Ask them if they’re writing a haiku — the look on their face will be priceless.
  8. Men will voluntarily shave things women hate to shave.
  9. Most gyms have the hard core guys that know days of the week not by Monday or Tuesday but by Leg Day and Shoulder Blow-Out Bonanza sessions. Most gyms also have a group of older women that meet in the morning and get most of their exercise from running their mouths and fueling the rumor mills. Do not mess with their coffee.
  10. Do not stare directly at someone using the inner/outer thigh machine who is wearing shorts. It’s like staring at the sun—you will not love this.
  11. There will be stalkers. People will hover around and wait for your piece of equipment or cardio machine despite the fact that there are a plethora of other options they could be using. Make loud noises or begin singing to buy yourself a few extra sets.
  12. People in the parking lot will also stalk you for a closer parking spot, even though that defeats the purpose of going to the gym. Chances are it’s not a cardio day, and therefore not something written down in the notebook.
  13. And finally, the sweatier and grosser you get at the gym, the more people you will run into when you stop to the store immediately after. However, ducking in and out of the aisles with your cart and sprinting to the register can also count as cardio. 

It’s really a win all around.

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Love Letters

We’ve all had those days when every piece of mail or email you open is a bill or reminds you that people are nothing if relentlessly tedious.

When those things happen, I know there’s always one place I can go to feel loved, to feel respected and cherished by those who might stop by my blog—the SPAM folder.

Or, as I prefer to call it, my Love Letter Vault.


Sure, “HotSkillz97”  might not feel comfortable enough to comment using his real name, but I figure it’s more of a shyness issue and rather endearing, no?

Anyway, who couldn’t be happy when they open that folder and read a few comments like these (despite the cringe-worthy errors, printed as sent to maintain authenticity):

  • You’ve encouraged, Doug. Appreciative for the type words and phrases.
  • Fascinating publish. Thank you for making my day.
  • I have not a clue precisely what your existing about and I don’t agree with you at all. However hello! Anyway I am sincere! (It should be noted that this was left on my “About” post, of which they disagree.)
  • Really get pleasure from exposing it. It looks a lot like your present audience will far more than probably like much a lot more excellent articles.
  • Your jot down can be a superb kind of that.
  • Excellent goods from you, man. I have understand your stuff previous to and you are just too fantastic. You make entertainment and you still take care of to keep it smart.
  • You are my aspiration. I have few blogs and very sporadically run out from to brand.
  • Terrific paintings! This is the kind of info that are supposed to be shared around the web. Shame on Google for not positioning this submit upper! Come on over and seek advice from my vacuum! (I have to admit. This is a tempting offer.)
  • Fascinating goods, my lord! Within the outstanding words and phrases of a specific terminator…Illinois be back!

I can only imagine that some of these comments are left by the people who found my blog by searching with one of these terms:

  • Jack LaLanne’s crotch
  • How to tell my mom I need a bra (never had this problem…sigh)
  • Do squirrels use febreze in their trees
  • Avocados and parrot porn
  • Why do some senior citizens feel the need to be naked
  • Michael Phelps wearing plastic panties and a banana clip
  • Melissa Rivers looks like Steven Tyler (spot-on, by the way)
  • Can you get food poisoning from old ketchup packets (my grandma would say “no”)
  • Woman insists husband go commando
  • Picture of raccoon with a pair of panties
  • I’m not anti-social, I’m anti-stupid
  • Squirrel drag queens are handy things to have in your car

And finally, “Soon, my friend, it’s cocktail hour.” Yes, yes it is. I’m thinking that we should ask Doug from above. Maybe he’ll be encouraged to pick up the tab?

At any rate, within the outstanding words and phrases of a specific terminator…Illinois be back!

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Word Search Vol. 4

Dear People of the Interwebs,

You never fail to amaze me. Between some of the brilliant blog posts that urge me to think in new ways, the comics that make me laugh and the sports scores that keep me updated, I don’t know what I would do without you in my life.

However, I have to point out that most of you are weirdos. Well, at least those of you who found my blog through a variety of confounding search terms, with only a small set of examples below.

I’ve shared some of those gems a couple of times in the past, but they just keep coming and the few I included below (unedited) are too good to keep to myself.

So People of the Interwebs, thank you for providing me with not only a chuckle at the fact someone landed here by searching “elderly squirrels with no verbal filter,” but also for making me feel like my issues pale in comparison to whoever searched for “busier than a cucumber in a women’s prison.”



Word Search, Vol. 3

  • Got bored, searched boobs (*editor’s note: sorry for the disappointment
  • I’m a girl and willing to do anything for Detroit Tiger tickets
  • Mariah Carey in yellow latex
  • I don’t need to kick your ass life will do that for me
  • I would exercise but it makes me spill my drink
  • Squirrels in Polish babushkas
  • Has anyone ever written a letter from the kitten tooth fairy?
  • Naked yoga for elderly people
  • Squirrel with tits after my nuts
  • I don’t usually fart in public but when I do I lean to the left
  • The internet stops me from being productive
  • Squirrel getting a speeding ticket
  • Hold your head high and your middle finger higher
  • I’m starting group meetings at my house for OCD cats
  • The count’s sesame street toga party
  • A gopher mixed with Steven Tyler
  • Victoria’s Secret panty bunch on a fat dog
  • Julia Child/Martha Stewart fight club (*editor’s note: Yes, please)
  • Trippy squirrels do Crossfit nude

And lest you think they’re all a bit off, there was this one:

“Don’t let your mind bully your body into believing it must carry the burden of its worries.”

Now that’s one I need to remember.

Well, that along with “how to be a bossy bitch.” The first one, I’m still working on. The second one, I’ve got covered.

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Word Search Vol. 3

It’s time to once again play everyone’s favorite blog game—Word Search!

Okay, maybe it’s not everyone’s favorite game, but I like it and it amuses me so we’re headed for Round 3. If you’ve missed the first two installments, Word Search is basically just me sharing the most ridiculous terms that lead people to my blog in the past couple of weeks.

The usual conclusion is that people are seriously screwed up and if the fate of the world rests on these people conducting productive Internets searches, we’re all screwed. 

It also makes me wonder what the heck I’m writing about if a search for “baby goat Fight Club” brings people here.


They obviously don’t know that the first rule of Baby Goat Fight Club is that you don’t talk about Baby Goat Fight Club. At any rate, here are the rest of the highly-suspect search terms: 

  • What would happen if a starfish and a turkey had a child?
  • Quotes about people who think their shit don’t stink
  • Thanks for reminding me how much I hate people and social interaction
  • How do you get popcorn in your pants without resizing?
  • Bend me over the washer and pretend
  • How long has brown m&m been gone
  • People talk about things they know nothing about on Pinterest
  • Squirrel with an avocado cutter
  • Peacock meets airplane
  • I will pee on everything you love
  • Save me from the annoying people
  • How to cut out the penis bone from a raccoon (Note: what the hell?)
  • Don’t date someone who wants to wear your underwear
  • When your dog thinks it’s smarter than you and it is
  • So I read your rant. Why do you insist on poking holes in me?
  • I’m out of bed and dressed so what more do you want
  • Look at that bitch just eating her cracker like she owns the place

But my favorite from this month wasn’t “Dear Abby, help me with loud sneezers in the office.” No, my favorite this month was:

Even if you have issues, I still love you

Because sometimes I need to hear that — just not from whoever searched “come here and let me wipe that bullshit from your mouth.”

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