Self Check-Out: Time Saver or Personal Hell?

I do admit that the idea of personal check-outs are spot on. They seem to be a time saver and you don't have to stand there listening to the teenage cashier chomp on gum, or some older person discuss their bathroom habits. So when my local store updated their check outs with a few I was ready to try one. I was married at the time and my ex wanted to help with it. He started putting things on the twelve inch long conveyer while I tried to scan the items. The next thing I knew, we're in a power struggle for who's doing it correctly. He then started pushing buttons that sent out the little signal for an associate to come to your aid. By the time the associate got to our check out, we were in an all out fight over who did something wrong and who's fault this was and so on.

That was the last time I used a self checkout. I've been single for three years. Enough time to forget the ordeal of the self check out. This past weekend I got my nephew over night. He wanted pizza and candy so we did a store run. I saw the self check out and decided to give it another try. We loaded the pizzas, the bag of candy, and two gallons of milk on the conveyer belt that looked like it was only ten inches long. I hit the button to start, and a very friendly female voice welcomed me to the store and asked me to scan my first item. I scanned the candy, it went fine, I dropped it in the bag. I then grabbed the milk and scanned it, dropped it in the bag, the female voice instructed me to put the item in the bagging area. I answered, to the screen, that the milk WAS in the bagging area. I picked the milk up and kind of dropped it on the bagging area, thinking that might help with the sensors. It didnt work. I was getting angry.

I then just chose the option on the screen to skip the bagging. When I scanned the other gallon of milk, I got the same message. I then picked the milk up and dropped it on the bagging area again. This set off some sensor and my screen said an associate would be over to assist me. I waited and waited, and by the time I'd had enough and starting pushing buttons, the associate arrived. We laughed it off, and she hit a few buttons on the screen, scanned her name tag, and we were ready to scan the pizzas.

I tried scanning the pizza. It beeped and informed me the item was not a valid item. I tried swiping it over a few more times. Same friendly, pleasant, ever annoying female voice instructed me to manually enter the sku number from the back of the package. I did this. By this time my daughter is announcing in a very outdoor voice that all the other people have already gone thru their check outs. And that we are slower than the normal cashier operated fast lane. I kindly tell her thru my clenched teeth that this was much faster and we were doing just fine.

While I was re-assuring my daughter, my nephew grabbed the pizza box and was attempting to scan it. He then began aggressively muttering something that sounded like Italian swear words. I told him to relax and let me handle this. I tried entering in the sku number for the pizza again and again I got the same message. This set off yet another alarm that the associate answered in a pretty timely manner. There was considerable less laughing this time when the associate came to scan her name tag and hit some buttons. She did this and it registered the pizza. I thought wonderful! If only there was a duplicate button I could hit to hurry up and cut our suffering and scan the second pizza. No such luck. I tried the second pizza, and I got the same error message as before. My daughter then yanks the pizza box out of my hand and begins banging it on the little glass screen. I assure her this will not help while I'm wrestling the pizza box out of her hand. I save myself time and just waive the associate down myself. She comes over, scans the pizza and hits the button to finish and pay.

I was able to at least pay for the items we were unable to scan. I gather the bags, wishing I'd included some beer in the items. I decide again that the self check out just does not work for me. For some reason, I see every one else scanning and paying for their things and getting the hell out of the grocery store alot faster than I do. I've come to accept this. I've accepted the fact that there are some things in life that we just aren't meant to master. I've added self check outs right under hang gliding.

Weight Loss.. Ups, Downs, and Overs

I'm no stranger to weight loss struggles. I've always been on the "more than average" side. I knew managing my weight was important since I was a small child, my grandmother used to try to get me to eat yogurt instead of ice cream. It never worked, no matter how fun she made it seem, I always opted for ice cream, I always have. That's half my issue. I have the self discipline of a housefly. I love all things sweet. I'm not that adventurous when it comes to trying new dinner items, but bring out the dessert cart and it's got chocolate involved I'll try it no questions asked.

I've tried homeopathic weight loss remedies. Drinking disgusting little green slimy concoctions that are supposed to cleanse me. I've tried fasting, that just left me starved enough to attack one of the cows that are always in the field by our house. I've tried the ole vinegar and honey diet, you make a shot glass full of vinegar and honey and down it right before you eat. It's supposed to make you feel full so you'll eat less. All it did for me was make me wretch so much I had no desire to have anything to eat.

I've found that hitting the library or local bookstore, and just skimming thru the weight loss section is helpful. I've gleaned enough from all the books I've read to put my own little spin on my weight management. And I've come to terms that genetics will get you every time. If you see a woman with legs up to her shoulder blades and thin as pole, my money is one the fact that someone in her family is like that also. It doesn't matter if you starve yourself to the point of death, some of us will never be thin. If it's not in your genes, it's not going to happen no matter how hard you try and you're wasting valuable time trying.

My advice is stop listening to the commercials with the stick thin blonde with the giant boobs talk about how she got that bikini body by popping some pills. It's not real life. If you buy those pills the only thing that's gonna lose anything is your bank account. Take control of your nutrition, feed your machine. But be active as well. Do some research and find out what works for you.
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New, Horrifying Technology

I just read an article on a new form of robot technology. It sustains itself by "eating" organically based mass. That means on the battlefield it can consume dead bodies for fuel. Yes, I said dead bodies. I think that alone could help us on the battlefield, because once an opposing soldier looked over to see one our robots devouring his bunk mate, he's gonna run so fast that only a cloud of dust in his shape will be left. I know I would.

I guess it's our government's way of "going green", why not re-use those cumbersome dead bodies, save the man power it would take to clean them off the field, just let the robots eat them! And it saves on fuel, in addition to eating dead bodies, the robots can run on cooking oil. That's just great, something coming at me that smells like french fries and has a dead body part hanging out of it's mouth, that's a sure fire way of making our enemies, wet themselves and scream like little girls. That's your government hard at work to make your world and mine a better place.

July 4th Weekend

Like every American I decided to celebrate the Independence of our country in the traditional way, drinking and playing with explosives. We of course would grill out and drink and play with explosives. It makes you wonder, is that how our founding fathers celebrated after they signed the Declaration of Independence? Was John Hancock or George Washington one of the ones to say "Hey, lets go cut loose with a beer and some explosives?". I wonder how that tradition came about. It's always been the way my family and countless others have spent the 4Th.

I live in the country, we have no ordinances or restrictions on fireworks. So we get the fireworks that are one grade away from leveling your house to the ground. You can always tell the guy who runs the fireworks stand. He's the one missing a finger or two. I bet he's his family's designated lighter also. You know the one, the guy who's had way too much to drink but you somehow trust him with a lighter and explosives in your backyard. He's also the one that's drank enough to be a little more fearless than the others when it comes to the fireworks that won't light right away.

Then as the night wears on, everyone has had enough to drink where even Grandma gets in
on the festivities and everyone starts lighting the fireworks and throwing them at each other. Well that's the direction things take in my family. I hope every everyone had a great 4Th and made it out with all your fingers in tact.

Bugs

I'll admit it. I don't like bugs. I'm not one of those people that will stop you from swatting one and give you this long speech about how everything serves a purpose and they're needed. I personally don't think they are. I can't really name one time in my life when a bug has come to my rescue or saved my life. I've never got a jump for a dead battery by a fly, an ant has never held the door open for me at a restaurant. A spider has never carried my bags to my car at the store. So when it comes time to roll up the newspaper and start swinging, I'm right there.


I'm not saying that humans and bugs can't exist peacefully together. I'm all for that. If they leave me alone, than I'll leave them alone. But I do admit that once a spider wanders into my bathroom, I consider that a personal invasion of my privacy and he'll be dealt with using my tried and true method of spider killing.

Once the spider is spotted, I will take my hairspray, the super hold, fast trying freeze spray, and give him a couple of shots at close range, while the spider is staggering around on my counter top, I will scream obscenities at it. I will them grab a few squares of toilet paper, unless it's a particularly ugly spider, than he gets a full Kleenex. I will drop the paper on him, and swoop him up, and quickly deliver him to the toilet for a swift flush. That's how I've dealt with spider since the beginning of my memory.

So when my daughter came into my room screaming about a spider in her bathroom, I grabbed my hairspray and went in for the kill. Once I got to the bathroom, I saw this furry little black spider sitting in the corner of the ceiling over the bathroom mirror. I had my hairspray aimed and ready when my son came running in to stop me. He quickly informed me that he's been aware of the spider's presence in the bathroom for quite some time now. He's named him Phil and he leaves everyone alone. It was at this time I was silently grateful for my parental poker face, the one that every parent uses when you're child says something so off the wall that if makes your eyebrows want to jump of your face. But instead you look at them like they've said something that requires great contemplation on your part, and you walk away to giggle alone.

I agreed to give Phil the spider a trial run so to speak. I was going to spare his life for a few days in order for my son to prove to me that Phil was going to peacefully live in our spare bathroom. My daughter was appalled at this. She's also pretty handy with the hairspray bottle and was ready to give Phil the Aqua Net treatment right then and there. She said she was officially not using the extra bathroom anymore, until Phil was no longer a resident.

So needless to say, my daughter and I became "bathroom buddies" and I secretly hoped that Phil the spider would either break our treaty or be in the twilight of his little spider life and go to the big web in sky pretty soon. But as time wore on and the more I complained about her taking over my counter space. My daughter eventually started sharing the bathroom with her brother and Phil. And after awhile, Phil was no longer there. He just left as quietly as he'd showed up. I can't say I really learned anything from giving a spider his own bathroom. Just that it's the only time it's happened. I figure I pay the bills around here, and if any other little creatures want a bathroom to themselves, they can pony up their half of my house payment.

I've never been a "bug lover". I think the closest I ever came was when that series of children's movies featuring bugs flooded the market a few years back. Disney put out "A Bug's Life", there was "Ants", and "Ant Bully", and a slew of others that I didn't have to sit thru. Even when Disney makes a bug cute, you can guarantee the ant that's walking across your kitchen counter hoping you didn't do a good job of cleaning up tonight’s dinner isn't the little wise cracking "doe eyed" ant that Disney puts in it's movies. Those movies even have you feeling sorry for the bugs, like their life is so unfair. They just work their little bug hearts out and deal with all the injustices that the mean humans inflict on them. I can guarantee the ants that I woke up with in my sleeping bag on my last camping trip weren't humming a Disney tune.


But the movies make bugs look cute. They tone down their appearance. If they showed kids want bugs really looked like, no parent in the history of EVER would ever get a good night sleep again. Just turn on the Discovery Channel or TLC. Any of those channels that have shows that way over use the magnifying lenses.

My dog hates flies. If one goes near him he freaks out and gets up and moves away from it. My kids used to laugh at my dog for this, calling him a sissy and other non dog like names. But after I showed them what flies looked like up close, my dog wasn't the only one running from flies around here. Flies have thirty million little eyeballs and are covered with hair. That's why you can never swat them, they can see you coming from across the state line.

Spiders are the same way. They have forty million eyeballs and fangs and way too many legs. For something to be welcome in my house in can't have more than four legs. If you go over the four leg mark in my house, then it's either the newspaper or hairspray treatment for you. It makes me wonder why there are so many spiders. They are so hideous looking, how can they find each other attractive enough to mate? But since I have only two of everything, I guess that's something I'll never know.