Today at work I helped a man who bought a bunch of the Jingle Ornaments (little personalized snowmen things). There was a particular name he wanted and we were out of it, so I took his name and number and told him that I would call him when we got restocked.
A few minutes after he left, I had the idea to call one of our others stores on the off chance that they might have the one he was looking for.
Bingo.
I called him right away to let him know and before I could even finish my sentence, he launched into this speech about how wonderful I am, how I'm the best representation of customer service that he's come across in years, how great I handle myself, yadda yadda yadda.
I kept saying "thank you" and he just wouldn't shut up. I'm not used to such praise. I was almost embarrassed. Almost. *cough*
He tells me that he's going to tell the owner how great I am. I told him that she will be in the store next Wednesday. He tells me that he's going to make sure to call and talk to her.
Well, he better.
And she better listen.
I deserve a raise.
It's one thing to know that you are good.
It's another thing to have someone tell you that you are good.

I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE ASK YOU ABOUT SOMETHING INSTEAD OF SIMPLY CHECKING FOR THEMSELVES!!!!!
I HATE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT COLOR THE SKY IS, LOOK AT THE SKY!!!!! DON'T BUG ME ABOUT IT!!!

AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!

Okay.
Moment of yelling is over.

I saw a license place today that read FIDEAUX.
The holder said something about a dog and cat outfitter.
How cute is that.

I'm considering dressing up as myself for Halloween.

Last night I watched part of my visit with Beca in 2002.
Man, we crack me up.
Bunch of silly girls, I tell ya.
That was when the New York sewer rat got my foot.
Not a pretty sight.
That was also the first time I turned to the complete stranger sitting next to me in the theatre and asked "IS HE REALLY DEAD!!!?????"
But of course, in Urinetown, expect only the expected.

I miss New York.
I miss my friends that live far away.
When I'm rich and shameless, I'm going to be bi-coastal.
Actually, I'll also be bi-countrial, because by then, I'll have my estate.
And you know what that means.....

HOUSE PARTAAAAAAAAAYYYYY!!!
Don those 19th century riding habits and come on over!
We'll ride the hounds till the cows come home!

I'm trying to figure out why I dream about completely utterly totally entirely impossible things.
It's very odd.
I try to squash it.
Maybe I need a Kathey-size fly swatter.