Happy New Year! Hope everyone is nice and relaxed after the gluttony of the holidays. I, for one, am glad to be back on a normal schedule, which is strange because I HATE schedules. Go figure.

Anyways, I have a Meijer update for you. The store that I badmouth for having terrible customer service and retarded employees has struck back...literally. It was a few nights before Christmas, and I was doing some last minute shopping (along with half of the city). We were having guests at our house for the weekend, so I figured I should pick up some kitty litter so my precious Sandy wouldn't stink them out of the place. I stared at the gigantic display of scoopable clays with everything from crystals to color changing pellets to recycled newspaper (which my cat detests, and would much rather take a shit in one of my houseplants than in that stuff), and looked for a sale sign or some kind of "save now" coupon. Ah ha! Found one. Of course, it's on the top shelf, and I'm only 5'4". Being no stranger to climbing supermarket shelving, I hopped on the bottom shelf and reached for the box of Lavender scented Fresh Step--the 14lb box. I scooted it to the edge with my fingertips with the intent of letting it fall off, and I would catch it mid-air. Well Meijer employees, being the stocking geniuses that they are stacked another 14lb box of Fresh Step on top of the one I was grabbing. It was resting on another higher box behind it, allowing it to tilt ever so slightly and slide off right onto my face (my right eye/cheekbone area to be precise)--all 14lbs of it. GOD DAMMIT!!!!!! HOLY FUCK! Glad there were no children around to witness this verbal re-enactment of what I can only guess was running through Holyfield's head when Tyson bit his ear off. Needless to say, I got the damn litter ($2 off, by the way), and had to walk through the rest of the store with people staring at me wondering why on Earth I would go grocery shopping after someone just punched me in the face. I thought for sure I would have a black eye for Christmas, but I didn't. For a split second I thought of going to the meat case and ripping open a steak and slapping it on my face. Fuckers.

So, this is me looking Karma in the face and giving it the finger. Next time I'll wear a helmet (or bring my own coupon).

Seriously, this box fell off an 8 foot shelf and landed square on my eye. OWW!

I am a cheapskate--I'll be the first to admit it. I LOVE being able to stay at home with my kids, and my being a tightwad has so far allowed me this pleasure. However, one major disadvantage of being a cheapskate, is having to shop at stores where other cheapskates shop. My grocery store, for instance, is Meijer. They have awesome sales, and fresh produce--the two most important things, in my opinion. What they lack is an intelligent employee. All I'm asking for is one, and I want that one to follow me around the store, just in case. Seriously, I'm pretty sure they only hire retards. It also wouldn't hurt if they actually stocked the items that were in their sales ads. I mean, if I see that golden kiwis are 6 for $2, there better be fucking 6 kiwis in the basket. So those are my issues with Meijer: jack-ass, ignorant employees, and nothing's ever in stock.

First of all, 70% of my cart is filled with stuff from the produce section. I love to cook, so I experiment with a bunch of ingredients that most people let sit and rot at the store. Here is a list of items that I've purchased in the past few months, and the corresponding reaction(s) from my cashier(s) upon checkout:

1. Fennel: "Ummmmm...this is celery, right?" "What is this?" "Green onions?" "Uhhh..." "Garlic?"

2. Kale: "What do you make with this?" "Is this lettuce?" "This is the biggest spinach I've ever seen!"

3. Leeks: "You're gonna have to help me out on this one." "What do you use this for?"

4. Limes (seriously): "That's the greenest lemon I've ever seen!!!"

5. Green onions: "How many do you have?" yeah, he was going to charge me $0.99 for each individual onion--idiot!

6. Garlic: "Weird onions!"

7. Turnips: "What kind of potatoes are these?"

8. Yellow carrots: "Those are not carrots--they're yellow!" Um...just scan the damn carrots, and stop making yourself look like an even bigger asshole.

9. Ginger: "What...is this?"

I'm sure I'll think of more examples, but you get the gist for now. Isn't there some kind of requirement that cashiers actually have to know what the hell they're selling? Jesus, take a walk around the produce department, and learn what's there!

And while I'm on the subject of cashiers, just because there's some sort of "age affirmative action" or something, doesn't mean you have to hire only 70 year old men. There's one that insists on telling me why he's bagging certain things together--like my cart is some sort of fucking puzzle and I give a shit why he's putting the peas in with the frozen pizza. FUCK! Seriously, I've waited in his line for a half hour for $100 worth of groceries. I've also learned to forewarn other shoppers if I see them heading toward his line--I could care less if he hears me...he's slow as hell. And another thing? Don't send new hires to a checkout until they've learned how to operate the register! I do not have time to wait around while the corn-rowed, 5 inch fingernailed, genius behind the counter looks up every PLU# for the above named produce. I'll admit, I've agreed that the fennel was green onions, and the kale was spinach, and the garlic was indeed onions--not only did it make the line move quicker, it saved me like $5. Like I said, I'm a cheapskate.

Then there's the meat counter hags. I've never been to that store when there hasn't been a line of at least 10 people waiting for their lunchmeat, cheese, or pasta salad. The woMEN that run that counter are as fat as they are slow, and aren't afraid to roll their eyes at the slightest hint that they might have to cut open a new slab of meat to slice. For example, I asked for a pound of smoked turkey. She put what was left in the tray on the scale and said in her most put-out tone, "There's only a half pound left open in the case...if you want the other half, I'll have to get a new one out and slice it." Annoyed, I said, "That's okay, just slice a whole pound of the new one, because I don't want it that thick anyways." Then she rolled her eyes, walked a quarter mile an hour to the cooler, and got out a 10lb turkey that might have well weighed a hundred lbs, by the way she panted. Fuck me...I'm never gonna get outta here.

The only satisfaction I get out of this whole weekly experience is whipping out my stack of coupons, and reading the "You saved 'a shitload of money'" at the top of my receipt. I'll write later about my issues with other shoppers. I'm sure you're waiting at the edge of your seats!