Ah, the mixed messages we send our kids

I was at Target, scrounging for lunch (I totally forgot they have a Pizza Hut Express in there!!), which, of course, warranted a trip to the cosmetics aisle for a lipgloss run (if I told you how many lip products I carry in my purse at any given time, you'd lose any and all respect you had for me).

I found these obnoxious, child-sized press-on nails with the Lipsmackers on the end of the aisle.

The best part about them is the message painted on the flowered ones. You can't really make it out in the photo, but the writing on half of these plastic, non-degradable nails says GO GREEN!

Um, that's not my job

I'm a Gen-Xer.

And like almost every other Gen-Xer I know, I loathe the notion of the extreme sensitivity we're supposed to employ with the next generation.

The Millennials (Gen-Y) are very sensitive, very coddled, and very entitled. We've all heard the story about the fresh-out-of-college Millennial who turned down a $40k job because he didn't think it was enough money and it wasn't a good career step. Y'know, because hanging out on his mother's couch was a better career step.

Had that been me, not only would my dad have been furious, he would have kicked me off of his couch and out of his house for pulling a stunt like that.

I'll state right here and now that not all Millennials are like this. I work with some really fantastic kids. But, as they say, it's the bad apples that ruin the bunch.

And they've employed a juggernaut of a marketing machine to ensure that their demands are met.

The "rules" of working with a Millennial go something like this:

• Give them very structured hours. They don't like working overtime.
• Listen to them closely. They don't like it when they're not listened to. 
• Don't give them boring tasks. They don't like to be bored. 
• Make the workplace a super-fun place to be.

Etc., etc., etc.

Whatever happened to paying your dues? Working your way up? I cannot tell you how many copies I made and how many files I filed in my early jobs. It was my JOB. That's what I was paid to do. 

My favorite is the fact that they hate menial jobs. Don't ever ask them to make copies.

Hey kid! I need 46 copies of my ass. STAT!

Get off of the precious pedestal your folks put you on and get to work.

It's this kind of sexy banter that really keeps the magic alive

For the record, I've never told Beau I'd be somewhere and simply not. shown. up. That's not who I am, and he knows it.

Yet for some reason, he still feels compelled quiz me on when I'm leaving and when I'm going to arrive somewhere (usually calling while I'm on the road to see if I'm still on my way).

Which leads to adorable pithy exchanges like this.

BTW, T-Bone's not his name. It's a nickname that annoys him, so I, of course,
use it as his contact name in my phone.
Like I said, sparks flyin' everywhere.

Best story I've heard in the past five days

Beau's nephew Nate was in town with his girlfriend (only she's not his girlfriend... but she kind of seems like she is... it's complicated). They're sweet and adorable in the way that only 20-year-olds who motorcycle across the country can be.

We took them around to touristy spots (Buffalo Bill's grave--we seem to take everybody there, though it's not really that interesting). AND we saw a beautiful herd of buffalo up close. We were enthralled. They were less than enthralled with us. They withstood our oohs and aahs for awhile, then they pooped in our general direction and wandered off.

On our way down the mountain, Nate told us this great story.

He was in a tattoo shop, waiting on his artist, when a toothless crazed man burst in with a very important message:

EVERYBODY PAY IN CHANGE! THEY CAN'T TRACE CHANGE!

And then he was gone.

Douchebag on board

From afar, it looks... stupid.

Step closer.
It appears that someone has plunked down cash money to have this done.
On purpose

Step closer.

Yep, we've got a big-time doucher on our hands.

Conundrum at the pharmacy

While I was waiting for my turn at the pharmacy window, I glanced around at the many healing items for sale.

My eyes landed here, and my question to you is this:

Is calling someone a dummy a good first step on the road to managing anxiety and depression?

Cringeworthy memory

A long time ago (long before they divorced, she left the country, and she and I stopped talking to him altogether), I was very close friends with a married couple.

For my birthday, they bought tickets and planned to take me to a show at Red Rocks.

In an awful coincidence, their beloved cocker spaniel died on the day of the show. I told them we could skip the show and that I would completely understand.

Nope, they said. We were still going. But we needed some liquor to get through the night.

So the husband and I traipsed to the corner liquor store. As we wandered the aisles, I absentmindedly hummed along to the piped-in music, which just happened to be Mr. Bojangles.

(I'm sure, at this point, some of you can see where this is going.)

At what point in the song did I suddenly begin to sing along without even thinking about it?

You guessed it: The dog up and died, he up and died. After 20 years he still grieves.

Oh, Lordy! I felt like dirt when I saw the look on his face.

It's still an awful memory, but it's kinda funny too. I wince and chuckle (wuckle?) at it now. Totally 100% the kind of stupid thing I do on any given day.

Sigh.

*boop*

This makes me deliriously happy.

Pet peeve

It irritates me when people say I was in fear of my life when they really mean I was in fear for my life.

Big difference.

Hair comes the bride

As I've discussed before, I like to buy bridal magazines because I love pretty dresses and cake.

And the latest issue of Martha Stewart Weddings absolutely did not disappoint.

But I noticed something in this issue. The gowns in the ads are gorgeous. But look above the neck and each model looks like shit on a shovel. To say the hairstyles are atrocious is polite. I've picked some of my favorites to share.

Either she's an alien bride or she's smuggling a melon down the aisle.

The I-Raced-to-the Church-in-a-Convertible-Through-a-Wind-Tunnel look.

Spent some quality time on her back before she walked down the aisle.

And, of course, I saved the very best for last.

You'd be on the verge of tears too with this monstrosity on your head.