Crystal V. Wal-Mart

Apparently $5.32 is pretty freaking important to freaking Wal-Mart.

Today I went to return a $5 pair of tights that had never been worn and were still in the package and could be resold no problem. I bought them as a back-up in case I put on the black nylons I got for Diana’s wedding and hated them.

And I swear to cash registers that I had a freaking receipt at one point. But alas, I had left it at home.  And, all I wanted was cash for the stupid tights.

But the guy, was all, ‘Ya, we have to give you a gift card.’

And I’m all “Umm, ya. I really, really, really need the cash because I have .2 gallons of gas in my car.’

And the man was all ‘No. I can’t do it.’

So I asked to see his manager.

Who was all ‘Do you have a receipt?’

And I was all, ‘No, but I really, really need the cash for gas and it’s only $5.’

‘But you don’t have a receipt?’

‘No’

“Then I have to give you a gift card.’

‘Ok. Can I see your manager please.’

‘Fine. Hey [worker person] call [specific manager’s name that’s probably known for saying no to customers]’

Next manager appears.

‘Hi! Can I help you?’

‘Yes. I just really want the $5 cash for these tights.’

‘Ok. Do you have a receipt?’

‘No. But it’s only $5 and I really need the cash to put gas in my car.’

‘Oh. Ya. Well, I can’t do that.’

This woman underestimated me and my need for gas though. To me that $5 was about 7 tribillion times more important than it could ever be to her.

I was planning to wait her out.

‘But I really, really, really need the cash for gas. FOR GAS WOMAN!’

‘Ya. I can’t do that.’

So I dropped my trump card.

‘I know you can do it. I used to work at Wal-Mart. At the service desk. And you just hit ‘cash’ instead of ‘gift card.’ Also, I know that you don’t give out gift cards unless the return is over $5, so this is just 32 cents over. AND I REALLY, REALLY need the cash for gas. Did I mention that?’

‘Fine. Give her the cash.’

And that’s how I got enough gas to get Rockford so my mom could give me money so I could eat this week. (Thanks mom!!)

True story.

Also, Wal-mart is lame.

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Wishing them a life dripping with blessings

My friend Diana is the kind of gal who loves steak, arranges her schedule on Ash Wednesday so she can go to noon Mass, and who follows the news so closely that when I get a breaking CNN text alert, she already heard about whatever happened 10 minutes ago.

And she’s become one of my closest friends since I met her about a year and a half ago.

Which is why I couldn’t possibly be more happy that yesterday she got married to the love of her life – Chuck.

I have never in my life seen a bride so genuinely happy.

Ever.

And her now-husband was beaming so much that I thought sunshine might start coming out of his teeth.

The setting was intimate, the vows were genuine and  polka dancing was fun to watch. And I learned a valuable lesson about the expiration date of the electric slide.

I don’t even mind that multiple members of the Mariachi band asked to take cell phone pictures with me. My Spanish is rusty, but I can only assume they either thought I was pretty or that I had toilet paper sticking out of my nylons and nobody wanted to tell me.

I wish both Diana and Chuck a home that’s dripping with blessings, a life filled with more happy times than bad and a love that really does make the two of you become one.

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– I know it’s grainy, but I was in the back because I got there a tad late (Sorry Diana). I LOVE how Chuck is smiling here though. He looked like that pretty much the whole day. True story.

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– Diana and I. And yes, that smile was on her face right down the end when the banquet hall staff were starting to clean up.

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appropriate things in appropriate places

TMZ is seriously getting about 30,000 more clicks from me this week. I do not understand what defect I was born with that makes me give two craps about Tiger Woods’ car accident, but OMG, DID YOU HEAR THIS VOICEMAIL?

Tiger is supposedly calling his mistress all ‘Umm, ya, my wife found my phone records. Can you take your name off your voicemail so she doesn’t find out about us?”

Uh! TIGER!! Have these conversations in person. In some sort of body of water. Where nobody can wear a wire.

DO YOU NOT WATCH DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES??

Dude has so much to learn.

Moving on. I need a new sports bra.

The girls are flying all over the Jazzercise studio during that “Crazy Chick” song, and I swear that’s why the instructor always looks at me when explaining how to do the low impact moves, which don’t involve jumping.

I want to jump. I want to burn calories and lose 17 more pounds. I want to be FLAT.

I even went to Victoria’s Secret ready to shell out a week’s pay for what I needed, but the master of all things boob (can youth leaders say ‘boob?) let me down – they only carry sports bras online.

Who orders a sports bra ONLINE? How the heck could you possible know if it holds appropriate things in appropriate places? I need to test things like that folks.

I’d hoped that as I lost weight umm, things would get smaller, and I wouldn’t need as much support. Alas, even smaller things still need support.

Suggestions on this welcome folks, but only if you’re at least a C cup. If you’re smaller, you live in a fantasy world likely filled with tank tops and strapless dresses and could never understand my problems.

Speaking of smaller things, I’m REALLY EXCITED about how much weight I’ve lost.

Sometimes I feel like I’m bragging by talking about it, but whatever dude. And even though the doctors say the official total is 38 pounds since Aug. 1, I swear it’s actually 40 depending of the time of day I weight myself and whether I’ve worked out in the last two hours.

And 40 pounds is so much weight! (note: I tried to google things that weigh 40 pounds so I could impress you by saying things like ‘DID YOU KNOW A BLABATY BLAH WEIGHS AS MUCH AS I’VE LOST?? But I couldn’t come up with anything).

I teeter back and forth between wanting people to notice and feeling embarrassed when they do, but I decided that really, I just want people to notice. I want them to be all “Holy crap! You look great! And you’ve lost so much weight that I can hardly see you!”

Is that asking too much?

It’s hard to lose weight. Really hard. And you can bet your bottom dollar that if you’re noticing how my pants are too big, at that exact same moment I thinking about losing three more pounds in the next 10 days, so you might as well bring it up.

Now, excuse me while I got to bed at 8:30 so I can make it to the 5:15 Jazzercise tomorrow – I’ve got three pounds to lose by as soon as possible.

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