Who the Fuck Buys Cheese in a Snowstorm?

Listening: Half-Acre - Hem

I am holding half an acre,
Torn from a map of Michigan
And folded in this scrap of paper
Is the land I grew in.

Think of every town you've lived in
Every room you lay your head
And what is it that you remember?
Do you carry every sadness with you,
Every hour your heart was broken,
Every night the fear and darkness
Lay down with you?

~

LOOK AT IT OUTSIDE.

It's like Jack Frost and Mother Nature got really, really drunk last night, banged, and unleashed THIS fuckery upon us. I'm actually furious right now. I like winter and all, but I also like when it stops being winter and starts being that season that comes after winter. It's the end of February. Time for some post-winter weather. No? Not so much? Fine, you bastards.

So I'm sitting in the shop, being bored out of my skull, scowling at the world I can see through the glass door and scowling even harder at what people come in to make my life miserable. The boss is in Florida for another week or so, leaving the rest of us here to fend for ourselves (kind of). It's not normally so bad--unless you get a day like today, which is pretty much just an eight-hour voyage into annoyance and tears.

Normally I would never blog about this crap, but first of all, I'm really frigging bored, and second of all, I apparently actually have a following of blog-watchers (yes, I'm looking at you Harry Potter Kid/Hannah/Benji/Gen/Steph) who are (horrors) actually reading this thing. And some of them complaining about my lack of "real" updates. Never let it be said that I don't cater to my clientele, when I get my claws into them.

So Environment Canada says that we've got like 15 - 25 cm of snow attacking us from all sides, and high winds in the afternoon, which for me marks today up from just irritating to an assassination attempt. The chances of the shop closing are slim--I just got off the phone with the boss, who is sunning his tanned ass down in Florida as we speak, the bastard, and I have to call him back with an update about what else around the city is closed. Short answer, nothing. Long answer, nothing and I can forget having a social life by the end of today because this is the kind of weather that makes you want to watch the weather channel and hurl small objects at your television every time someone says the word "snow".

You'd think that when the world looks like it does outside, people would stay the farking hell inside. Apparently that's not the case.

First customer:
Him: Hi. I want a chunk of Mexicana and a chunk of jalapeno havarti.
Me: ...But why?

Second customer:
Her: I want about a third of all the dubliner you've got.
Me: *heaves a sigh* Alriiiight.

Third customer:
Him: I want a hundred grams of smoked gouda, a hundred grams of havarti, a hundred grams of mozzarella, three hundred grams of black forest ham, three hundred grams of turkey breast--
Me: Oh COME ON.

When I told the boss about the influx of people availing themselves of our tasty fermented dairy products, he laughed and said that the majority of people I'm seeing today hate their families and are just trying to get out of the house for fifteen minutes. I told him that he was a terribly cynical man, and he laughed again and told me that while that was certainly the case, he was telling the truth. Then the misanthrope told me to call him back in twenty minutes or so, because he was taking his daughter back to Disneyworld.

I hate him.

(Subtitled: I actually don't.)

So while I'm bitching, there is this prick who keeps coming to the shop five minutes before closing time on nights when I'm working to purchase the most inane shit. The other night for example: I had the door locked, signs flipped and unplugged, and was counting off my cash for the night when I heard a knock at the door. I looked up to find this guy standing outside. I pantomimed tapping my watch and mouthed "We're closed", and he got this really indignant look on his face and started rattling the door. I went over to see just what the farking hell he had his knickers in a twist over.

"We're closed," I clarified, opening the door a smidge and sticking my head out.

"No you're not," he told me.

Um, what? I spent like ten seconds just blinking at him like a fish that has been hauled out of a paradisial oasis and dropped onto a hot sidewalk. Okay, he had a point in that it wasn't quite eleven o'clock yet, but I think I'm entitled to shut the store down five minutes in advance so I can count cash / do paperwork / clean up without people tromping all over the store and fucking me up. Anyhow this guy just stood there staring at me until I stepped backwards, holding the door for him, and stumbled, "Umm... come in, I guess."

He never even said thank you.

So he came back last night. It was eleven o'clock by this point, so I wasn't obligated to let him in. I wallowed in it, too. When he banged on the door, I didn't even pantomime the watch-thing. I just went to the door, opened it, and said, "We're closed, sir."

"No you're not."

"Yes. Yes, I actually am. If you have something you need, I suggest you try Wal-Mart. They're open twenty-four hours now."

Victory.

Things have gone a bit to the chaotic side because now there seems to be something of a dilemma going on between who's coming in to work tonight and who's staying the fark home out of it. I had hoped to have plans tonight--party on the go--but if that's cancelled then I'm all for calling it a night and staying indoors, away from snow and people who insist on eating cheese in the snow. Whatever, I'll live.

Although guaranteed I will gleefully murder the everloving hell out of the next person to come into the shop and tell me, "Wow, it's nasty out there!"

NO. WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF A SNOWSTORM. NASTY? ARE YOU SERIOUS? GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.

I'm going to cool my cynacism now by eating a couple of these Peach Ring candies. They're like Fuzzy Peaches, only with less surface area.

PS: I also maintain that if you guys are going to be asking for "real" posts, I should at least get some farking comments out of it.

Icarus appears to be channeling a combination of Yahtzee and Foamy.