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Since I've pretty much left three days undocumented (and you know how much that sort of thing bothers me), this is going to be a terribly long entry. I'd cheat and divide it up into several entries, but that's more work than just writing everything down at once and just posting it. And I took the time to write down all sorts of notes at work today, because it was a slow day and there wasn't even an usher to talk to. And, since I wrote down all my notes on this nice little piece of paper here, I shall use what I wrote down as tidy little headings for what I wanted to write about it, in the cases that the heading doesn't just explain everything. I also have to keep in mind that there are actual random people reading this. For some reason that doesn't connect in my mind too much. It must be some sort of strange shy-voyeurism. And I'd better make this quick, too, since I plan on getting up in the morning to drive my sister to school. It's her first day already, which means I have fifteen (!!!!) more days before I get to leave. I should probably consider starting to pack things up. I started a little bit about a week or so ago, when I stuffed all my winter stuff away, but then I gave the bag to my sister when she went to visit her friend in Akron, and I haven't re-packed it since. Silly old me. So... yeah, on to what I was going to write, in the order that I wrote it down at work:
Linnell + David Spade Guy
This was the first thing I wrote down because I didn't want to forget to mention him... this guy came in during the second set, and he looked like what you'd get if you took exactly half of John Linnell and half of David Spade's genes and stuck them together. He really freaked me out, but that was mostly because he kept staring at me... and he had the scariest girlfriend in the world. What the heck?
old-ish man and PG-13 ratings (calling corp.)
As you can see, I'm writing this exactly how I wrote it on my sheet. This had to be the strangest thing all day (maybe...). This disgruntled oldish guy (must've been around 50..) came out of his movie, and talked briefly to one of our managers, who seemed to laugh at him, and then he walked away. Then the guy came over to me, and said something like "Can you tell me the exact definition of a PG-13 rating? There was a big group of kids in that movie, and they certainly weren't 13" I told him that I wasn't quite sure, but I thought it was parental guidance suggested if under 13. And he yelled "NO! It is parent or guardian accompanies if under 13!" I told him that I was pretty sure that it didn't matter how old the kids were that saw it as long as the parents bought the tickets for them. He gave me a sort of sneer, and I asked him if he wanted me to call my manager, and he told me no, and that he just wanted to make sure that we knew the definition of a PG-13 rating before he called corporate headquarters on us. It took a lot not to laugh at him, since I know that as long as the parents buy the tickets, you could let a five year old unaccompanied into a rated R movie. It's all about parental consent. Why was he telling the concession girl this, anyway? I've only ever sold tickets to anyone once, and that was my first day. I'm certainly not required to know who's allowed into what movie. I talked to the kids later on to find out what movie they'd gone to see (SWAT) when they came over and asked me for quarters, and indeed their mother had bought them the tickets, so it was no fault of ours. I wonder what corporate said to the guy when he called... I hope they laughed at him, because he sure was mean to us. Why would you get so outraged over someone else's kids watching a PG-13 movie? Sure, maybe if they were just let into a rated R movie, but even my mom let me watch PG-13 movies when I was younger. Silly people.
no-combo bookman
He didn't come in today, but I saw a lot of people that looked like him, and I'm not sure if I mentioned him before. He comes in at least once a week to watch two shows, and at each show he orders a medium popcorn and a medium diet coke. If you offer him a combo, or try to upsize anything, he yells at you. Now that I think of it, I have mentioned him before... he always keeps his tickets in this book that he carries around with him everywhere, and if I ever saw him on the street I'd run away. Really. He's a scary-looking sort of man. The calling-corporate guy reminded me of him, only he was much bigger.
target-mall ... dream
I wrote the actual name of the person in the dream there, and I'm not writing it here, hence the dots. Anyway, I had this dream two nights ago, and it was rather strange (though not as strange as last night's, which I'll get to later). My Ithaca-friend and I were in this strange strip-mall sort of place that was full of old buildings. There was rumour of this plot that some guy was going to blow up the Target, and we saw him as we were coming out of a bank (it looked a lot like Gingotts...). I decided I should call the police, so my friend gave me her cell phone and dialed 0 so I could ask for the police, since we didn't know the phone number. Zero was actually someone's phone number, and they answered and got mad at me. I decided we should try 911, but she insisted that it wasn't for things like that, so we had to keep walking around. There was much more to it, but the more I try to think of it, the more I end up thinking about one of the other strange mall dreams I had where we were in the department store will all the strangely-coloured clothes and a giant section just for furs and shower curtains.
mom-pot gym class tic tac contact solution
Last night's dream. Oy, was it a weird one. I told most of it to my sister earlier this morning so I wouldn't forget it, but I've probably lost a good deal of it by now. Try saying the name of this heading several times.. it's fun! Anyway, I was wandering around this swamp with my mom, and as we were hopping around on this conveniently placed stepping stones, my mom decided that I should take Spanish lessons. We went back towards my school, which was one room in the middle of the swamp where we met this vaguely Spanish lady that agreed to give me lessons. She insisted that I pay her in pot, and said that I could find it in Sears in Starburst bags under the registers and at lots of convenience stores with the vegetables. I agreed, but asked if I couldn't find any if I could just pay with cash. She said that would be alright, but she hadn't been paid with cash in 10 years. My mom and I left and went to this convenience store, where my mom found some pot underneath all the lettuce. She took some leaves out of it and gave some to me and ate some herself. She bought the rest, and took it to work with her. I went home and got ready for school. I went to gym class, which took place in an oversized version of my old backyard, and I realized that I was wearing shorts but I hadn't shaved my legs. Everyone there knew that my mom had bought all the pot, and they labeled her as a big pothead. She came to pick me up later, and I explained that the pot had no effect on me. She said that was weird, and then we were standing in this strange grocery store checkout line, and there was this display of Sprite and Coke bottles that had animal heads on them. My mom was talking about paying for my education, and she said that I should be embarassed that we had to accept money from a lady that had made puppets for a living since she was three. The guy in the line next to us was buying a lot of tic tacs in orange and wintergreen, and I wanted some so I went over and looked at them, and they were actually supposed to be mixed with water to make contact solution, so I didn't get them. And I know there was more after that, but I've forgotten it now. Strange enough if I just stop there, though. I wonder why so much of it had to do with drugs. Strange, always around the same time each month I have these strange drug dreams, or when it's all dark and dreary out, which it has been lately.
foreign guy "sleeping at night... you have problems?"
This was last night, and there was this happy sort of foreign guy that came over in the middle of his movie to buy a kids meal for his daughter (maybe) and some popcorn. He was all happy until I gave him his total, and then he acted all shocked, and in his strange accent said something like "when you sleep at night, do you sleep well?" I am so sick of people asking me stuff like that! AaAHhh! Happy little foreign guys don't need to do it too. I am not the one that charges these prices! I hate it just as much as you do, which I why I'd like to be able to celebrate my two-weeks notice, except that I'm going to have to go on holiday-help or something so I can make a little bit extra over Christmas. Ooo, this screen in the dark is making me freaking dizzy. It's sort of fun... until I pass out, throw up, or go blind. Heheh.
8 1/2 hours at fair
This will either be the longest or shortest part of this entry. It depends on how tired and dizzy I get typing it (or if I give up and go to sleep... oops). Anyway, I left around 1:30 to go to the fair to meet one of my friends and the other person from around here that's going to the UofC. I was supposed to meet my friend at two, and the guy from UofC at 2:40. I got caught in a half-hour of traffic, and I finally got into the fairgrounds. Everyone that had turned left into the entrance was sent into this smallish lot right next to the road while they sent the whole big line of cars from the right on into the big fields. I followed all the cops and traffic directors, and they sent me back out the other side. So I had to sit in another half-hour of traffic on the other side of the fair, waiting to get in. Luckily I was able to guess my friend's phone number based on my strange memory, and she managed to find my UofCer for me (I still don't know how she found him, since I probably wouldn't have been able to do it). I got in around three, and the three of us walked around until about 5:30, wandering aimlessly and talking about random, mostly pointless but interesting things. If most people at Chicago are like the guy I met at the fair, it will be a verily cool place indeed. Which makes waiting even worse. Cursed evil waiting! So, at 5:30 both of my friends left, and I was supposed to meet someone else at the rooster after I got back from the gate where I said bye to them, and then my mom and sister were supposed to come with their Kentucky people a bit after that. The person I was supposed to meet couldn't find me (I had my bright green bookbag... how could anyone miss me?) And my mom got stuck in two hours of traffic (likely story...) and didn't get there until 8. Since I thought that they had left at 5:30, and at the most it would take them an hour to get there, I stayed around the grandstand so I could find them when they got in. And if anyone's ever tried to sit down near the grandstand or the rock, they know that the people there are vultures and they will never, ever let you sit down. Curse the bench-vultures! When my mom finally got there, we walked around for a few more hours and ate some stuff. I never did get to look at many of the buildings, or harass the political parties. I was on my feet for a good 8 hours, since I won't count more than a half-hour total of sitting down time. Including the time in the little restaurant sort of place under the grandstand that tried to kick us out for not buying anything earlier in the day. I suspect it was because we looked like some sort of rowdy teenagers (me in my I Am Made of Poison shirt with my bright green bookbag, my friend in her pseudo-preppy clothes, and the UofC guy in his visor). I always pose such a threat to the establishment... especially by offering people combos.
nice (but confused) Hispanic family vs. angry med. popcorn & butter guy (& nice water cup guy after)
I'm tempted to just leave that as it is, since it pretty much explains itself, but no... I should explain this fully. There was a nice Hispanic family that bought a combo (after much confusion over some sort of drink-exchange thing that they saw that doesn't exist). They only gave me a ten to pay, and it was thirteen, so the mother had to root around in her purse to find the three dollars, and all the time this guy standing behind them kept scowling and pacing and looking annoyed, and he kept looking at me like it was my fault. After they finally paid, he didn't even wait for them to move away from the counter, he just yelled over them "Medium popcorn with butter!" so I said "Medium popcorn with butter?" and he said "MEDIUM POPCORN WITH BUTTER!!" and I said (a bit to annoy him) "Would you like to try our Skittles combo today?" and he scowled some more and yelled "I WANT A MEDIUM POPCORN WITH BUTTER!" I wanted to ask him if he wanted butter, but I decided I shouldn't make him any madder, even though he was a complete jerk. So I got him his freaking popcorn, and put butter on it, and gave it to him, and he yelled "I asked for butter on this!" and I said, barely keeping from yelling at him "I put butter on it, sir, but if you'd like some more I can put some more on there for you." So he threw his money at me and left. Shame it was exact change... The guy I feel really sorry for is the one that was right behind him, and only wanted a cup of ice. He smiled pityingly at me when he came up to the counter, and asked very nicely. Yay to water-cup man!
And there's a lot of stuff written on the back of this little receipt-paper, but I don't feel like writing it now, because I'm tired of writing, and you're probably tired to reading, and this is freaking long enough already. The rest of the stuff was all random anyway, so I could write about it anytime I wanted. Still, no one's told me who would win in a fight, the Three Musketeers bar guys or the Quilted Northern ladies??
Linnell + David Spade Guy
This was the first thing I wrote down because I didn't want to forget to mention him... this guy came in during the second set, and he looked like what you'd get if you took exactly half of John Linnell and half of David Spade's genes and stuck them together. He really freaked me out, but that was mostly because he kept staring at me... and he had the scariest girlfriend in the world. What the heck?
old-ish man and PG-13 ratings (calling corp.)
As you can see, I'm writing this exactly how I wrote it on my sheet. This had to be the strangest thing all day (maybe...). This disgruntled oldish guy (must've been around 50..) came out of his movie, and talked briefly to one of our managers, who seemed to laugh at him, and then he walked away. Then the guy came over to me, and said something like "Can you tell me the exact definition of a PG-13 rating? There was a big group of kids in that movie, and they certainly weren't 13" I told him that I wasn't quite sure, but I thought it was parental guidance suggested if under 13. And he yelled "NO! It is parent or guardian accompanies if under 13!" I told him that I was pretty sure that it didn't matter how old the kids were that saw it as long as the parents bought the tickets for them. He gave me a sort of sneer, and I asked him if he wanted me to call my manager, and he told me no, and that he just wanted to make sure that we knew the definition of a PG-13 rating before he called corporate headquarters on us. It took a lot not to laugh at him, since I know that as long as the parents buy the tickets, you could let a five year old unaccompanied into a rated R movie. It's all about parental consent. Why was he telling the concession girl this, anyway? I've only ever sold tickets to anyone once, and that was my first day. I'm certainly not required to know who's allowed into what movie. I talked to the kids later on to find out what movie they'd gone to see (SWAT) when they came over and asked me for quarters, and indeed their mother had bought them the tickets, so it was no fault of ours. I wonder what corporate said to the guy when he called... I hope they laughed at him, because he sure was mean to us. Why would you get so outraged over someone else's kids watching a PG-13 movie? Sure, maybe if they were just let into a rated R movie, but even my mom let me watch PG-13 movies when I was younger. Silly people.
no-combo bookman
He didn't come in today, but I saw a lot of people that looked like him, and I'm not sure if I mentioned him before. He comes in at least once a week to watch two shows, and at each show he orders a medium popcorn and a medium diet coke. If you offer him a combo, or try to upsize anything, he yells at you. Now that I think of it, I have mentioned him before... he always keeps his tickets in this book that he carries around with him everywhere, and if I ever saw him on the street I'd run away. Really. He's a scary-looking sort of man. The calling-corporate guy reminded me of him, only he was much bigger.
target-mall ... dream
I wrote the actual name of the person in the dream there, and I'm not writing it here, hence the dots. Anyway, I had this dream two nights ago, and it was rather strange (though not as strange as last night's, which I'll get to later). My Ithaca-friend and I were in this strange strip-mall sort of place that was full of old buildings. There was rumour of this plot that some guy was going to blow up the Target, and we saw him as we were coming out of a bank (it looked a lot like Gingotts...). I decided I should call the police, so my friend gave me her cell phone and dialed 0 so I could ask for the police, since we didn't know the phone number. Zero was actually someone's phone number, and they answered and got mad at me. I decided we should try 911, but she insisted that it wasn't for things like that, so we had to keep walking around. There was much more to it, but the more I try to think of it, the more I end up thinking about one of the other strange mall dreams I had where we were in the department store will all the strangely-coloured clothes and a giant section just for furs and shower curtains.
mom-pot gym class tic tac contact solution
Last night's dream. Oy, was it a weird one. I told most of it to my sister earlier this morning so I wouldn't forget it, but I've probably lost a good deal of it by now. Try saying the name of this heading several times.. it's fun! Anyway, I was wandering around this swamp with my mom, and as we were hopping around on this conveniently placed stepping stones, my mom decided that I should take Spanish lessons. We went back towards my school, which was one room in the middle of the swamp where we met this vaguely Spanish lady that agreed to give me lessons. She insisted that I pay her in pot, and said that I could find it in Sears in Starburst bags under the registers and at lots of convenience stores with the vegetables. I agreed, but asked if I couldn't find any if I could just pay with cash. She said that would be alright, but she hadn't been paid with cash in 10 years. My mom and I left and went to this convenience store, where my mom found some pot underneath all the lettuce. She took some leaves out of it and gave some to me and ate some herself. She bought the rest, and took it to work with her. I went home and got ready for school. I went to gym class, which took place in an oversized version of my old backyard, and I realized that I was wearing shorts but I hadn't shaved my legs. Everyone there knew that my mom had bought all the pot, and they labeled her as a big pothead. She came to pick me up later, and I explained that the pot had no effect on me. She said that was weird, and then we were standing in this strange grocery store checkout line, and there was this display of Sprite and Coke bottles that had animal heads on them. My mom was talking about paying for my education, and she said that I should be embarassed that we had to accept money from a lady that had made puppets for a living since she was three. The guy in the line next to us was buying a lot of tic tacs in orange and wintergreen, and I wanted some so I went over and looked at them, and they were actually supposed to be mixed with water to make contact solution, so I didn't get them. And I know there was more after that, but I've forgotten it now. Strange enough if I just stop there, though. I wonder why so much of it had to do with drugs. Strange, always around the same time each month I have these strange drug dreams, or when it's all dark and dreary out, which it has been lately.
foreign guy "sleeping at night... you have problems?"
This was last night, and there was this happy sort of foreign guy that came over in the middle of his movie to buy a kids meal for his daughter (maybe) and some popcorn. He was all happy until I gave him his total, and then he acted all shocked, and in his strange accent said something like "when you sleep at night, do you sleep well?" I am so sick of people asking me stuff like that! AaAHhh! Happy little foreign guys don't need to do it too. I am not the one that charges these prices! I hate it just as much as you do, which I why I'd like to be able to celebrate my two-weeks notice, except that I'm going to have to go on holiday-help or something so I can make a little bit extra over Christmas. Ooo, this screen in the dark is making me freaking dizzy. It's sort of fun... until I pass out, throw up, or go blind. Heheh.
8 1/2 hours at fair
This will either be the longest or shortest part of this entry. It depends on how tired and dizzy I get typing it (or if I give up and go to sleep... oops). Anyway, I left around 1:30 to go to the fair to meet one of my friends and the other person from around here that's going to the UofC. I was supposed to meet my friend at two, and the guy from UofC at 2:40. I got caught in a half-hour of traffic, and I finally got into the fairgrounds. Everyone that had turned left into the entrance was sent into this smallish lot right next to the road while they sent the whole big line of cars from the right on into the big fields. I followed all the cops and traffic directors, and they sent me back out the other side. So I had to sit in another half-hour of traffic on the other side of the fair, waiting to get in. Luckily I was able to guess my friend's phone number based on my strange memory, and she managed to find my UofCer for me (I still don't know how she found him, since I probably wouldn't have been able to do it). I got in around three, and the three of us walked around until about 5:30, wandering aimlessly and talking about random, mostly pointless but interesting things. If most people at Chicago are like the guy I met at the fair, it will be a verily cool place indeed. Which makes waiting even worse. Cursed evil waiting! So, at 5:30 both of my friends left, and I was supposed to meet someone else at the rooster after I got back from the gate where I said bye to them, and then my mom and sister were supposed to come with their Kentucky people a bit after that. The person I was supposed to meet couldn't find me (I had my bright green bookbag... how could anyone miss me?) And my mom got stuck in two hours of traffic (likely story...) and didn't get there until 8. Since I thought that they had left at 5:30, and at the most it would take them an hour to get there, I stayed around the grandstand so I could find them when they got in. And if anyone's ever tried to sit down near the grandstand or the rock, they know that the people there are vultures and they will never, ever let you sit down. Curse the bench-vultures! When my mom finally got there, we walked around for a few more hours and ate some stuff. I never did get to look at many of the buildings, or harass the political parties. I was on my feet for a good 8 hours, since I won't count more than a half-hour total of sitting down time. Including the time in the little restaurant sort of place under the grandstand that tried to kick us out for not buying anything earlier in the day. I suspect it was because we looked like some sort of rowdy teenagers (me in my I Am Made of Poison shirt with my bright green bookbag, my friend in her pseudo-preppy clothes, and the UofC guy in his visor). I always pose such a threat to the establishment... especially by offering people combos.
nice (but confused) Hispanic family vs. angry med. popcorn & butter guy (& nice water cup guy after)
I'm tempted to just leave that as it is, since it pretty much explains itself, but no... I should explain this fully. There was a nice Hispanic family that bought a combo (after much confusion over some sort of drink-exchange thing that they saw that doesn't exist). They only gave me a ten to pay, and it was thirteen, so the mother had to root around in her purse to find the three dollars, and all the time this guy standing behind them kept scowling and pacing and looking annoyed, and he kept looking at me like it was my fault. After they finally paid, he didn't even wait for them to move away from the counter, he just yelled over them "Medium popcorn with butter!" so I said "Medium popcorn with butter?" and he said "MEDIUM POPCORN WITH BUTTER!!" and I said (a bit to annoy him) "Would you like to try our Skittles combo today?" and he scowled some more and yelled "I WANT A MEDIUM POPCORN WITH BUTTER!" I wanted to ask him if he wanted butter, but I decided I shouldn't make him any madder, even though he was a complete jerk. So I got him his freaking popcorn, and put butter on it, and gave it to him, and he yelled "I asked for butter on this!" and I said, barely keeping from yelling at him "I put butter on it, sir, but if you'd like some more I can put some more on there for you." So he threw his money at me and left. Shame it was exact change... The guy I feel really sorry for is the one that was right behind him, and only wanted a cup of ice. He smiled pityingly at me when he came up to the counter, and asked very nicely. Yay to water-cup man!
And there's a lot of stuff written on the back of this little receipt-paper, but I don't feel like writing it now, because I'm tired of writing, and you're probably tired to reading, and this is freaking long enough already. The rest of the stuff was all random anyway, so I could write about it anytime I wanted. Still, no one's told me who would win in a fight, the Three Musketeers bar guys or the Quilted Northern ladies??
