Who Do I Think I Am??

This one's about part one.

THE PROMPT: "Describe a life experience so important to you it deserves to be told over multiple entries."

Good evening friends...ahhh, the warm, loving "Serial" portion of this month's "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" . Everybody around these parts knows how much I love them . It really makes me have to think long and hard...and realize my life's really been that boring. No joke. Sure, I've done a lot of fantastical things during my journey, but not a lot of things I believe I could stretch out over the course of three whole days.

But alas, I long to complete this month's challenge, so I racked my brain and something...let's call it a remembrance, shall we...popped into my craw and started spinnin' words around like a wounded bird trapped in a pail. So here it is, folks...a little something I'll title The Second Time This Ever Happened.

It was a little more than two years ago, and Jess and I were throwin' out ideas for what to get my dad for his birthday. A typical brainstorming session...throw a bunch of shit at the wall and see what sticks. We had recently been to a Buffalo Bandits lacrosse game. Jess had never been to one (but I had been to a few) and she had a great time, so she suggested we take my dad. Cool! I loved it! Tickets to events as gifts for someone are great because it's like buying yourself a gift too .

So we looked at the schedule, got tickets pretty far out in advance just to avoid scheduling conflicts, and told Pop Diesel to keep the date free because we had a surprise for him. He was excited. Going to a Bandits' game is hella fun around here and it's very reasonably-priced entertainment. They attract some of the biggest crowds in the National Lacrosse League, and their fans are the best in the league (and it's true...no bias or anything). The crowd has soooooo much passion and energy...and some of the best chants. Like when our goalie makes a big save, the arena announcer asks, "What's he got?" and the crowd shouts, "NOTHIN'!!", or my favorite (because it makes me chuckle...because inside I'm a perverted 15-year-old), when an opposing player gets a penalty, the announcer asks the crowd, "Where's he goin'?" and the crowd responds with "TO THE BOX! TO THE BOX! B-O-X BOX BOX BOX!!"

All we had to do was request that Saturday night off from work. Because of the nature of Jess' position at the time, she made sure she got her request in and approved. Me? No big deal...I was runnin' the photo lab at my store at the time. Photo Jesus was in full effect. I never worked at Saturday night anyway, because I ran the lab and worked a night shift during the week so I didn't have to work weekends.

Well, it probably wouldn't have hurt at the onset of this gifting process to request the night off anyway, even though I'd never worked a Saturday night in my life there. Sure enough, a few people requested the day off here and there, and when that week's schedule came out, I was scheduled to work 3:30pm-10:30pm. And there was no one available to switch shifts with, and no corresponding days off I could trade for. I was stuck. I was pissed. Afterwards I'd told my boss and a few coworkers about my plans...there was nothing anyone could do to help me out. They were more concerned about me calling in sick or not. I was like, "No, I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't screw you guys over like that and leave the photo lab to the manager. I'm not like that." Well, that, and I didn't trust the manager that was on duty that night to run the lab either .

And that's a good place to leave off. Come back for part two, sometime around this time tomorrow.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

I'll even include this fantastic number tonight as a prelude to what you'll find out tomorrow. Consider it a "preview".

VITAL STATS:

So, I think some crazy, super-old lady was flirting with me today. She's a bit of a regular customer, and she was in with her super-old lady friend, returning some kind of pain ointment or something, but she didn't have a receipt or the packaging, so my boy G-Stamm (fun fact: he took over the photo lab when I was promoted to my current position) couldn't process her return for her and had to call me over. So I come over and look up the item to determine if we've sold it and for how much, and this woman keeps telling me she'll bring the box back for it tomorrow, to which I keep telling her it's not gonna matter. And they're chatting away, talkin' 'bout how she doesn't recognize me, and this and that. I finally get to the last part of the return...before I can give her her money back on a gift card, I need her name and address. She starts to tell me her address, but says, "You don't need the apartment number; you're not stopping over anytime soon. Are you?" I laughed and said, "Only if you're makin' somethin' good for dinner." She looked at me and said, and I quote, "I'm not one of them cougars!" Oy, the silly things old ladies say. Here's your gift card ma'am...please walk away now.

Holy crap! It's my 200th entry! Who's buyin' drinks?!

Well, that's enough excitement for one day. Time to see everyone else's "life experiences". Don't forget to catch part two of The Second Time This Ever Happened tomorrow...same bat-time, same bat-website-place-thingey. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!