Loss of an Icon

Michael Crichton died recently.

A few things I didn't know: He didn't believe in global warming. He was married five times. I like the Wiki site better than his personal web page, more dirt, less bias.

Here are a few things I did know: He has one of the most difficult names an author can have, next to impossible to spell. His books are always easy to recommend. And always made the bestseller lists.

Ok, I gotta call it--this post is going no where. I'm totally distracted, trying to do too many things at once right now. I've got about three windows open on my interwebbing, chatting, shopping, watching tv.

It's all too much!

Could that be the theme of my life right now? Oh god, am I actually reverting to the sad esoteric teenage blather? Really? Am I really going there?

All I can say is, I warned you that November posts might get sketchy due to NaBloPoMo. I just didn't think it would come to this so soon.

It's The Stupid, Economy

Paul Krugman, he that I adore, wrote a column about Americans spending less. One of the highlights of that article--

"...real spending on durable goods (stuff like cars and TVs) fell at an annual rate of 14 percent. To appreciate the significance of these numbers, you need to know that American consumers almost never cut spending... Also, these numbers are from the third quarter — the months of July, August, and September. So these data are basically telling us what happened before confidence collapsed after the fall of Lehman Brothers in mid-September, not to mention before the Dow plunged below 10,000. Nor do the data show the full effects of the sharp cutback in the availability of consumer credit, which is still under way."

¡Oh, Dios mío

I've often said that working retail can suck your soul, but I recently had an experience that makes me believe that the worst is yet to come. And this ominous feeling I have is, in a round-about way, being confirmed by what Mr. Krugman writes.

Let me 'splain--As we enter this holiday season, people are going to be more limited than ever with their funds. They, as I, will be trying to get the most bang for their buck. But here's the part that has a little more to do with geography. The store I work at has a somewhat difficult and demanding clientele. So, my fear is that their usual sense of entitlement will be magnified by the rough economy, and they will demand even more out of us poor retail slaves.

I'm thinking it's not out of the realm of possibility that some old crone will order me to get her a book, a latte, and rub her wrinkly claw feet while I'm at it.

Letter To A Douche

Dear Douchebag,

Don't ever call me "Nikita, as in La Femme Nikita" ever, ever again. It is not my name. It is not funny. I do not think it is cool. And no, I've never seen the movie, and really don't care that it's about female empowerment. Which, by the way, you Douche, it is not.

Yes, I do know how to take a compliment. If you say, "Nice pants," I will reply with "Thanks." If you tell me five fucking times in a single sentence that you like my pants, I will have to tell you to shut it.

Seriously, do not talk to me. Please, just don't. The next time you say something douche-worthy, I will post the address to the site where I found this photo. And encourage others to mock.

Sincerely,
Not Nikita, as in La Femme Nikita