April 30th, 2006

RHCP -- Dani California


I'm pretty sure I haven't ranted about this here, yet. I did at length on my own LJ, of course.

Our P.E. program at school is pretty weird. It's a highschool, but we have no gym, so we all pay twenty bucks to go to a professional gym down the street. This is a pretty sweet deal, considering it costs twenty-five to test the gym out for a day to anyone else. The equipment is fabulous and the gym extensive. All in all, it beats trying to memorize the rules to volleyball (can you believe they quiz us on those at normal schools?).

I'm walking back with a friend of mine, Nick, and we've lagged a bit behind. We're not really sweating it. The school runs on block time, meaning each period is about an hour and a half. We've got a good twenty minutes to roll into class.

So, we stop into a gas station, both of us having skipped breakfast in order to get to school on time. Nick goes for a humongous bag of chips, while I go for the typical baked good (it IS supposed to be my breakfast). I get a packaged thing of muffins, two blueberry muffins of pure sweet and goodness, wrapped up tight in plastic and sealed in a factory somewhere.

We buy our goods and wander out.

About halfway back to school (far enough that I can't go back if I want to be to class on time), I rip into my muffins and stuff one into my mouth, then grimace. Okay, I haven't tried this brand yet, and obviously I've made a bad choice. I understand that sometimes packaged stuff like that tastes all chemical-y and plastic-y.

"Hey, Nick," I say, still chewing my food, trying to figure out what that taste is. I know it; I just can't place it. I hold out the muffins to him. "Try a piece of this, it tastes funny."

Nick grabs a portion of the top and puts it in his mouth at the exact same time I notice mold growing on it. I spit the chewed wad of muffin out at the speed of light and practically scream, "OH MY GOD, NICK, SPIT IT OUT!"

He'd just put it in, so I don't think he got a good taste, but he spit it out right away, then looked at me in confusion. THEN the leftovers of taste hit him, and he made a face that I would have found hilarious in any other situation.

"Look," I mumble, feeling sick to my stomach. "Ugh, mold. I ALREADY SWALLOWED HALF OF THAT. UGHHH."

~end storytime, begin rant~

Evidently, I'm a naive little brat to think that pre-sealed packaged muffins couldn't go bad, but honestly, HOW LONG HAVE THOSE BEEN SITTING THERE?! Years?! Don't they trade out their FOOD?! I mean, there was only two of that type of muffin. I guess I assumed that meant that people were buying them or something, and new ones were continually being put out.

I chucked the muffins into a garbage can because I felt sick looking at them. I felt the taste all through the day, and (here's where it gets gross, avert your eyes) it upset my stomach so that I would burp and keep tasting it every time I found SOMEthing to wash the taste away. Basically, I couldn't get rid of it. All. Day.

It was awful. -_- I hate that stupid gas station. I know for a damn fact that the 7-Elevens change their stupid food so it doesn't make their customers sick, so that's the only place I go to, now. When I'm not hitting a grocery store, that is.

Stupid Chevron/whatever-gas-station (okay, I can't remember, but I do know it's yellow) food mart. I hate you.

Pizza Hell

So myself and six friends go into Pizza Hut in Leicester Square. I was expecting them to have a problem seating us even though it was past the lunch hour, but nope, they seated us within a few minutes. So good work so far. The restaurant was pretty empty; just us an a few others.

But then.... it started.

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I got a story...

This story would go for the following communities because it fits all there topics.
But also it makes my head hurt from having to hear this when I am not even at work! WTF?!?!

I was outside in my yard putting gas in my mower when Christina(my neighbor across the street)
comes up to me and starts talking to me. She and her mother know I work for the fastfood joint down the street. Since it was my day off today I was getting things done but she just had to nag about a co-worker who I really don't like but have no control over because I wasn't there when she came in.

Christina:"The black girl with the blue hair was rude to us.
Me:Jessica?O.K. Why?(checking the oil from the mower)
Christina:She was making comments that we should leave after our order because it was late.
Me:What time was it?
Christina:10 o'clock
Me:Well I have to say this...
You guys did come in as they were closing up,but since you are customers we still have to take your order and be nice.
Christina:She was being a bitch.
Me:Did you talk to the manager that was working there?
Me:Well if you go back and talk to my store manager I am sure she will give you something for your problem you had with my co-worker Jessica.

Christina walks off.

Fucking Jessica!

Bad Hotel Service

I've been hanging around in this community for a while, but this is my first post. This happened to my family about four years ago when we drove from New York to Florida. As if long road trips with your younger siblings aren't bad enough, the hotel stay on the way down was abysmal. We have five people in my family, so my father made sure to call ahead and reserve a rollaway, as well as asking a few other questions. Here is the information he got (from the hotel itself, not the 800 number):

- They had a rollaway for us to rent.
- The rooms had indoor entrances.
- There was a restaurant attached to the hotel.
- Said restaurant would be open for dinner.

It sounded like a good place... until we got there. The first thing we noticed was that the rooms very clearly had outdoor entrances. Not a big deal - my mother just happens to prefer indoor entrances - but it was annoying to be told the opposite by someone who apparently had no idea what they were talking about. We checked in, and found that the rollaway wasn't in the room. No problem, they said; they'd put it there while we were out getting dinner.

Of course, as it turns out, the restaurant is not attached to the hotel, and the restaurant that is closeby is closed. Again, not a problem - it wasn't like there weren't other places to eat - but we were getting more and more annoyed at being lied to.

We come back to the room after dinner, and find that - surprise! - still no rollaway. My father goes to the front desk to ask them about it. Their response?

"Well, we have a set amount at the beginning of the season, but then people just make off with them."

That's right. The hotel had no rollaways. Because people steal them.

We wrote letters of complaint and ended up getting a free stay at another hotel in the same chain out of it; but seriously, who steals hotel rollaways? I mean, if you're going to lie to cover up your imbecilic mistakes, at least make up something believable.
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Service dog babble...

I'm not sure if this really falls under this, as in the end things worked out. I'm going to take a shot at it though.

I have a service dog, to keep it short she has a vest tags, papers the works. Most people see her and know what she is right away, a few need a refresher on it and then they smack themselves for forgetting. I don't blame some people I don't have a disablity that is easy to spot (not in a weelchair, ect) but I do have 2 vaild ones, and she is trained for both.

I went into Walmart on Saterday, I already was flusterd I just moved I'm getting my feet under me and collecting things I keep forgetting. The greeter stoped me, told me she wasn't allowed in. This made me go 'buh?" as this store I've -never- have problems before, in fact if I recall they have a section about service dogs in thier training prosses. I tried to put on my best face and be kind and explain it to her (she was older, like elderly older. So I was trying to be nice). She seemed baffled at my explantions and inside I groaned. I wasn't about to abandon the things I needed, and find antoher store to go to, and by all rights I shoudln't need to. She said they allowed seeing eye dogs, but she wasn't one and such. I tried to explain seeing eye dogs are under the same laws and catagories, as they are also service dogs.

I wasn't going to barg in and make her really flusterd, so after a big of her acting like she had no clue how to handle me, she said she was going to get a manager to check, and then it took her another 3-4 mins to figure out how to get one without leaveing her post. I dug out my paperwork that she got MORE lost looking at as we waited. The manger came over looking lost and asked me if I needed help, I just pointed at the greeter who had forgotten even what my service dog was "she has a .. uhh, what was she?" I'm twichy at this point "Service Dog" I pointed out, again. "Yeah that! Not a seeing eye do.." her manager cut her off "She's fine".

The greeter shuffled away, the manager gave me an apologetic look and I felt like it was safe to enter and get my stuff.

But gah! Really now, it's not like she knew nothing of service dogs she knew what a seeing eye dog was, how hard is it to carry the concept over that they can help with the other eleventy billon disablitys out there?