Yes, I know, greeting customers in the store is supposed to be a way to prevent shoplifting. However, my closest Walgreens has made this beyond creepy. There’s times I’m greeted 3 or 4 times, starting with the cashier as I walk in the door and then by employees as I’m walking around the store.
This is in Chicago, a busy urban area, not some small town in Mississippi. And, i usually have earbuds in until I get to the cashier to check out.
Have had the same issue with pedestrians at the downtown stops. Door opens, people start walking off the bus, some moron insists on walking across the front of the door.
Oh, so that’s why they do that. Never knew. And…I can’t lever unknow it, thanks so much.
Appreciate that.
Alas, said contract was signed back when Ronnie was president, gods know where it is today. Those that should have a copy have moved, and have dementia…
I have one of those. Not the yippy, puntable dog – don’t be ridiculous, and shame on you for letting such a thought enter your head – I have a neighbor like that. I’ve been struggling with whether it rises to the level of being worth complaining about as usually the annoying thing isn’t out there all that long, just long enough to express its annoyance by yapping at random air molecules and then yipping to be let back in. I’ve complained to these same neighbors about other noise and they’ve been very good about it, so I don’t want to push it, although the town does have pretty strict noise regulations. But if I ever got into their yard I would punt that annoying little furball so fucking hard it would go into orbit. And I love dogs, by which I mean real dogs, defined as dogs that slobber all over you, knock things off the coffee table with their enthusiastically wagging tails, and are big enough to knock you over (so they can slobber on you better). Puntable yippy furballs are not dogs, they’re a species of rat.
Mom.
One of the sucky things about your memory issues is that YOU don’t remember your memory issues. I mean, I know you know you have issues, but you don’t realize when re-asking the same question gets really annoying for your secondary brain (me-- also Dad).
Unrelated to the above-- so far this year, I think February is the only month I haven’t spent money on stuff other than gas for my car. I’m afraid this means it’s time to start car shopping, and I have NO CLUE where to begin.
Well, Ward, weren’t you a little rough on the Beaver last night? 
I’m going, you don’t have to shove.
That should be “last year”, not “next year” in post 12.
Oh, I get it. You’re so funny!
Not in China, they don’t. The buses can’t get to the curb because Beijing’s drivers haven’t yet encountered a “no parking” sign that they’ll obey. There simply isn’t enough room for the bus to pull to the curb. The sundry two-wheeled vehicles then continue on their march to destiny.
Ah, sounds purt near like trying to get off the subway cars here in Beijing. People are supposed to line up on the nifty little arrows painted on the platforms so the people disembarking can get off and–Surprise![sup]3[/sup]–make room in the car for those embarking. Of course the morons on the platform can’t be bothered to do that; they simply rush and push on. When I’m getting off as the door opens, I stick my finger in the face of the first moron that pushes into me and scream at him or her. Of course, I get the “What did I do wrong? Why are you yelling at me?” offended look. It doesn’t work, but sure is cathartic.
Want to save the Chinese taxpayer about a billion dollars in one swoop? Convince the government to quit using paint on the streets and train platforms.
Trying to sell a spare ticket to a gig, as my friend can’t make it (which is a 
in its own right). The venue recommended a ticket resale site, which doesn’t allow resale at over face value. Fine, not out to make money on it, just reclaim what I paid if I can. The site requires Paypal for all payments. OK, I have an account, so follow the link to allow it. This leads to a page which clearly says I’m linking my account to theirs, allowing the site to take payment from my account, with no apparent limit or restrictions. With an ‘Agree and Pay’ button at the bottom. What the…?! Pay for what?
I can see allowing some kind of permission to reclaim the ticket value from my account for a reasonable period of time (say, for few weeks or so after the gig) in case I’m selling a fake, but giving open ended permission for a random ticket resale website to empty my bank account?! Wha? Why on earth would that be reasonable? Am I missing something here?
And the Beijing Bikini is out in force today! For those of you who have not had the (incredibly dubious) honor of encountering such a thing, here is a representative image.
I think, and I may be wrong, that what they would like to do is make certain the account is valid by either making a small charge (.01, $1, etc) and refunding it immediately or putting a hold on the funds- at which point you check your bank statement online for a code attached to the transaction, report it back to the site and that confirms The existence of your account and the charge is cancelled. Thus, when the tickets sell, money is placed directly into your validated account. That’s the way I verified my bank account on PayPal- it’s possible your site is asking you to follow the same procedure, but not explaining it in full?
June 2nd
The Day of the Dumb
All I did was go to the bank 2 miles away to deposit a small check, then stop at the grocery store on the way home to buy 6 items and my “WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU” count exceeded 15 items. From texting drivers, to the woman who turned left in the left most turn lane (of the two) onto a 3 lane 45 mph zone then decided to immediately cut across the front of everyone at 15mph to get to the freeway entrance on the right, to people walking into my cart in the grocery store or stepping right in front of me as I was walking past them and stopping there.
:smack::smack::smack:
All I did was wake up and shit started going wrong. Think I’ll go back to bed. I cannot deal this day. My neck is still bugging crap outta me. Mr. Wrekker is on the rampage trying to get ready for his fishing trip. “I don’t wear your clothes so, no I don’t know where you keep your short sleeve shirts, I really didn’t think you owned any. For crissakes go buy two t-shirts and shut up, please.” I am done.
ETA, his experiment with the overpriced/ piece of shit Yeti cooler was a failure.
Ah, thanks for the explanation Monty. I guess my world view is a little sheltered, living in a college town. But I’ve seen enough “Amazing Race” to know that drivers in that part of the world are just plain crazy. Maybe you should buy a cane and stick out the door of the bus and wave it around a bit before you step off. 
This reminds me of when I’m watching videos on YouTube and one channel’s volume is so low, you have to turn your volume up to full 100% to hear what you’re trying to watch, then you go to the next video and it starts blaring.
We are still having problems with the Sacramento Bee delivery. Our neighbor just canceled her subscription because of their lack of delivery. We have not gotten a paper four days in a row now and five days since last Monday. We went about three weeks with good service, and then back to no service at all. I call, they promise things will get better, things will not get better. I don’t want to have to run down to 7-11 to buy a paper every day, not the least because I have to pay tax and because you can’t get a Saturday paper, you get a “Sunday” paper with all of the Sunday features and Saturday’s news. Tomorrow if and when we don’t get a paper, I’ll have to go back own to 7-11 to get a real Sunday paper with, once again, all of the features I bought today, plus tomorrow’s news.
I am curious about the new trend when going into a store of being greeted with “Welcome in.” What does that even mean?
One of my good friends has one of those puntable dogs. Only, it doesn’t yip, it screeches. I hate going to visit because just as soon as I knock on the door there’s an endless wail of agony from the other side as if an Irish troupe were riverdancing on it’s non-existent testicles.
Only to be repeated when I’m inside and the next guest knocks on the door.
This post made me laugh, so now my day is much better. And I don’t even know what a Yeti cooler is.