Writer's Block: I'm with the band

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I'd be a part of No Doubt. Because oh GAWD, I would kill to be 1/8th as cool as Gwen Stefani.

2010 is here, which means I REALLY need a new job.

*waves* Well, Happy New Year everyone. (A couple of days late, anyway.)

I can't believe a whole decade has gone by. I really can't. I also can't believe I've had this LiveJournal account for as long as I have and that I haven't abandoned it yet.

Well, I guess if I have to make any resolutions for this year, here's what they are:

--get a book published
--find my own place
--get in shape
--get a new job

Just making this short and sweet. New Year's Eve wasn't anything amazingly great. Kevin came over, and we had some pizza and beer and chicken wings, and we struggled to stay up until midnight so we could have the first kiss of the new year. In doing this, we've discovered that now that we're getting older, we seriously can't party like we used to when we were in our early 20s. It was a serious struggle to stay up that late. Especially after my long-ass work day. Which, by the way, really irritated the living piss out of me.

I was at register six for the majority of my shift. And the CSMs don't like for the baggers to come help whoever is working at register six to bag anything because it's the "express lane." Or it's supposed to be the "express lane," but too many ignorant/stupid customers don't like to count their items before they come in or to read the "15 items or less" sign above the register. So I had to bag the majority of my orders. Annoying enough, since they had me working register six on Christmas Eve, too.

My last hour at work, they had me on a regular register. But ho-ho! Six or seven huge orders come through my lane, and every single bagger passes my register by! Once again, I'm bagging my own shit! And you know, if I have to do more work than the baggers do, you'd think I'd get paid what they get paid on top of my cashiering salary. Or at least get their tip. But nope. More work for me. I get no credit or appreciation for it.

I call an approaching bagger over at one point and ask him to help me bag this order. He's all, "I gotta go do this order first." Which is a freaking small order compared to what I've just rang up. So what did I do? I chewed him a new one. Told him not to worry because I'd do it myself anyway like I've been doing ALL FREAKING DAY. A few of my co-workers were a little concerned that I semi-freaked out because they're not used to seeing me angry. Well, you know, make me do more than what I should be doing all day and I'm liable to snap. And it was BUSY on New Year's Eve day, lemme tell you.