I work at a small company there are about 20 of us. We all decided to play the big lotto twice a week.
We figured with 20 chances we have more of a shot. One lady that we work with decided to be in charge of taking the money and buying the tickets.
Here is the problem in the 12 weeks we have been playing she has only brought copies of the tickets for us to see 3 times. everyone has brought to her attention that we want copies of them and each time she has an excuse.
she has stated also that she plays on her own also. So here is the red flag we all are wondering if first she is even buying our tickets or just putting the money in her pocket that is 40 per week. or if she is buying them and we do get lucky and hit she can just walk away with all our money stating that she won on her ticket not ours.
Everyone wants someone else to be in charge but no one wants to hurt her feelings or to cause a problem with someone we work with. So how would you handle this? what should we say to her?

Technorati Tags: excuse, feelings, lotto, money in her pocket, red flag

Just about every American took a symple pledge in elementary school."I pledge allegaince to the flag of the united states of america, and to the republic for witch it stands, on nation under god,indivisable with liberty and justice for all. "
INDIVISABLE
Its time for all sane americans to take our country back from the right and from the left. stop being brain washed by media that is no longer interested in informing the people .It is only interested in creating division and fear to scare misinform or fail to inform in the name of greed and protecting the corporate sponsors who own them.
Its the media that is responsible for the dirty partisan politics and failure to allow any one in congress to stand up for what is right.
Stop buying there lies. its out of control.
Excuse my spelling not only did they stop teaching about the constitution they never did spelling to well either
I dont think we are at the point of polite debate and differance of opinion anymore there was a time when the people debating had respect for each other and go play golf.its turned into hate and the media is laughing all the way to the bank
Well ill tell you what side of the fence im on Im for protecting the constitution that our leaders have stopped protecting and our people have stopped making them acountable for it because there not being told the facts

Technorati Tags: brain, congress, constitution, corporate sponsors, differance, excuse, failure, flag of the united states of america, greed, laughing all the way, laughing all the way to the bank, liberty and justice, partisan politics, play golf, pledge, side of the fence, spelling, states of america, united states of america, witch

I am posting this semi – anonymously (sp?) due to the fact that the decision has been made to go forward with a lawsuit, therefore I will be leaving out some details (dealer name, model of car, etc.) I will otherwise give as much detail as possible.
A Chevrolet sports car was purchased by a member in my family (who we’ll call John) in the mid to late ’90′s. It was a ’95 model car and upon purchasing the car, it had slightly over 30k miles on the car. It was purchased with one prior owner before the dealership took hold of the car and title. "John" purchased this car at a reasonable price for these facts. "John" and my family live in a small town in the state of Texas and do not drive the sports car a lot, keeping the miles down on the car. In ’05, John sold the car to my husband, his son (who we’ll call Peter.) The title was changed over to reflect the new ownership. "Peter" and I have decided to start a family and in order to prepare, we came to the decision that it’s necessary to sell the sports car. We listed the car on AutoTrader with all information possible (including the still low miles, under 60k at present time) and with the final price being not far above Blue Book value. Also, the posting had the VIN number for those wanting to look at the "Carfax" report. In nearly two months, there were three calls, only one being a serious offer.
After the last person to meet with "John" and "Peter" about buying the car gives a "not interested" excuse after seeing the car and was excited about it, "John" and "Peter" took the car to a different dealership to see how much a dealership would buy it for. The dealership informs them after researching the car, that the title has a red flag for the mileage being rolled back. It is shown on the title that the mileage was rolled back while at the dealership "John" bought it from. More specifically, the mileage stated on the title when the dealership took over the car from the first owner showed just over 50k miles. The title history then shows the dealership selling the car to "John" at just over 30k miles. So now this produces the red flag of "mileage unknown" or "AMU" on a Carfax report while searching the VIN number. Needless to say this was a complete surprise to both "John" and "Peter." The dealership then informed "John" because of this information, they could only give him half of the Blue Book value which was k.
"John" has now decided to sue the dealership he originally bought the car from, however we are stuck. There are a few things we don’t know how to approach:

First, are we within our statute of limitations considering we just learned this information?

Second, the dealership is no longer in business but, they had been bought out by a larger dealership. Would the purchasing dealership be liable for actions by the prior?

Third, what all could we logically sue for and win? Could we possibly sue for punitive damages? I know we could sue for the difference of the full blue book value, but what else?

Fourth, how do we go individually suing the dealership? Should we hire a lawyer?

Any other information would be greatly appreciated. Thank you so much!
Sincerely,
Victims of a corrupt company

Technorati Tags: autotrader, blue book value, chevrolet, excuse, mileage, model car, present time, red flag, sports car, state of texas, vin number

I have a mp3 of a song that I got from a friend at least 7-8 years ago. The mp3 info states that the band name is Anti Flag (it sounds like the same guy singing) it also says that the name of the song is Just Sane. Since there is a guy in Anti Flag named Justin Sane, I have begun to believe that the name of the song is something else and that someone made a mistake when typing in the name of the song and the author of the song. Since I want to buy the CD to get better sound quality I really need to know the name.

Here are the lyrics as far as I can hear and make out:

????????????? more lately that I can’t fall asleep when I lying next to you, lying next to you
But it’s not because the scent of your hair that I love so much
No it’s cause I know that I’m gonna miss you
Do you remember the first time we met
You looked so distressed
I offered all my help to find your missing cup???
But that was just an excuse to talk to you
Now when I have to leave, when I have to go
When I have to disappear from your side for some weeks or months
When I have to sleep all alone take showers by myself
Watch bad ????? with no one else
Those are the times that I feel so alone
Those are the days I never wanna leave home

Technorati Tags: 8 years, excuse, justin sane, lyrics, mistake, mp3, showers, sleep, sound quality

It seems like this is blatant racism. I’ve heard the excuse that people are just trying to show "support" for their "family history", but I don’t buy that. Especially when I see people with HUGE full sized flags. This is the United States. Not the Confederate States.
To those of you telling me that it’s not a symbol of racism: Just like someone else answered, it is a symbol of that period of racism and the country that was defending it. I don’t care what ELSE they were fighting for. They fought for racism. It’s comparable to the swastika. Yes, it’s a religious symbol, and originally was not a bad symbol. But if you had roots in those religions… or, more extremely, if you had roots in Germany, would you waive your Swastika flags high and proud behind your truck?

Technorati Tags: blatant racism, confederate states, excuse, family history, Flags, germany, religions, religious symbol, roots, swastika, united states

my day basically went like this

It was after school, and after lacrosse practice. I needed Scotch tape. I went to the Wal-Mart down the road to procure some. Little did I know that this would become a battle with my own sanity before I left. Now, I can’t say that I’ve been shopping for Scotch tape in recent memory, so I wasn’t exactly sure where to find it. My best guess placed me in the aisle with all of the household cleaning supplies. No go. So I went an aisle over to find some immigrant worker stocking paper towels. Clearly, this guy would know where to find the Scotch tape. Or, at least, that’s what I thought at first.
"Excuse me, Sir? I’m looking for Scotch tape," I say.
The man looks up from his work, standing up to a good three and a half feet tall. Apparently, this particular Wal-Mart was looking to meet its Oompa Loompa quota. " Scotch tape?" he asks?
"Yeah, Scotch tape."
He stares at me blankly for a few seconds. "Spray?" he confusedly replies.
Oh, Jesus. This was a mistake. "No, it’s not a spray."
So, Oompy Boy takes me back to the aisle I was just in, points into it, and declares "Spray." Then, he walks off. And so we have strike one. I set off again to locate somebody that both worked there AND spoke English, a task that would prove nigh-impossible. I eventually run into this old lady dragging a cart of boxes around. I ask her where the Scotch tape is. She replies that it’s either in the aisle I was just in, or in the aisle with the carpet cleaners. Well, I was just in the aisle I was just in, and couldn’t find the Scotch tape even with the assistance of a little orange man. I relayed this information to the lady.
She took me back to the aisle I was just in, anyways. I hate people.
As soon as the lady realized that there was not, in fact, any Scotch tape in this aisle, I was pointed in the direction of carpet cleaners about halfway across the store. I embarked on my journey at once. I soon arrived, but alas, no Scotch tape. The carpet cleaners section contained, amazingly enough, only carpet cleaners. Apparently not having suffered enough from my previous two encounters, I again set out to seek the assistance of a salesperson. Each attempt proved increasingly difficult, as salespeople at this particular Wal-Mart were about as elusive as naked women at the Neverland Ranch. I had made it all the way to pool supplies before I managed to catch up to one unable to scurry away from me before I could plead for help, possibly because her fat ass seemed to weigh in excess of a metric ton. I ask her where I can find some Scotch tape.
" Scotch tape?" she asks.
Oh, Jesus. Here we go again. "Yeah, Scotch tape."
"Check the cleaning supplies aisle over in groceries," she suggests.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to fly. I politely inform her that her suggested avenue had already been explored, and that she had best provide a more suitable answer before I buried my foot deep inside of her size-52 ass.
"Umm… hardware?" she says. This was not a more suitable answer. My reply, though nonverbal, seemed to convey my feelings on the subject. Long live the power of the facepalm!
So, Tubby walks me over to another sales assistant, who she then proceeds to ask, "Yo Quiero Scotch tape?"
The other associate turns to look at her and then, in perfect English, replies, "what’s Scotch tape?"
Oh, God. Butterball spent a few seconds trying to explain it to her before finally turning to me and again pointing me in the direction of hardware. Eager to be away from the hungry clutches of a hideous beast likely to eat me at her next feeding time, I left for hardware.
Upon entering hardware, I encounter a Hispanic lady that strongly resembled Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue, only with more tattoos and considerably less attractive. I asked her where I may procure so Scotch tape and was pointed towards automotives. Fine. Automotives sounded like a better idea than hardware, so I went to go check it out. Alas, still no Scotch tape. So, I head back to the hardware whore and demand that I be shown to the Scotch tape in automotive. She complies, and I back off to automotives with the bassist from Motley Crue in tow. She searches for a little while, but is unable to find the object of my desire. Another sales rep, who was apparently lord and master of the automotive section appeared and was flagged down for help by the bitch from hardware. After presented with the situation, the Queen of Automotive Land formally declared that Scotch tape had been discontinued.
Right. Scotch tape has been discontinued. And I’m the king of fucking Spain.
The Automotive Mistress begins a long speech about how unpopular products are discontinued after awhile and I will have nothing of it.

Technorati Tags: aisle, boxes, carpet cleaners, cart, excuse, household cleaning, immigrant worker, journey, memory, mistake, old lady, orange man, paper towels, quota, sanity, scotch tape, shopping, stares, stocking, wal mart

It was after school, and after lacrosse practice. I needed Scotch tape. I went to the Wal-Mart down the road to procure some. Little did I know that this would become a battle with my own sanity before I left. Now, I can’t say that I’ve been shopping for Scotch tape in recent memory, so I wasn’t exactly sure where to find it. My best guess placed me in the aisle with all of the household cleaning supplies. No go. So I went an aisle over to find some immigrant worker stocking paper towels. Clearly, this guy would know where to find the Scotch tape. Or, at least, that’s what I thought at first.
"Excuse me, Sir? I’m looking for Scotch tape," I say.
The man looks up from his work, standing up to a good three and a half feet tall. Apparently, this particular Wal-Mart was looking to meet its Oompa Loompa quota. " Scotch tape?" he asks?
"Yeah, Scotch tape."
He stares at me blankly for a few seconds. "Spray?" he confusedly replies.
Oh, Jesus. This was a mistake. "No, it’s not a spray."
So, Oompy Boy takes me back to the aisle I was just in, points into it, and declares "Spray." Then, he walks off. And so we have strike one. I set off again to locate somebody that both worked there AND spoke English, a task that would prove nigh-impossible. I eventually run into this old lady dragging a cart of boxes around. I ask her where the Scotch tape is. She replies that it’s either in the aisle I was just in, or in the aisle with the carpet cleaners. Well, I was just in the aisle I was just in, and couldn’t find the Scotch tape even with the assistance of a little orange man. I relayed this information to the lady.
She took me back to the aisle I was just in, anyways. I hate people.
As soon as the lady realized that there was not, in fact, any Scotch tape in this aisle, I was pointed in the direction of carpet cleaners about halfway across the store. I embarked on my journey at once. I soon arrived, but alas, no Scotch tape. The carpet cleaners section contained, amazingly enough, only carpet cleaners. Apparently not having suffered enough from my previous two encounters, I again set out to seek the assistance of a salesperson. Each attempt proved increasingly difficult, as salespeople at this particular Wal-Mart were about as elusive as naked women at the Neverland Ranch. I had made it all the way to pool supplies before I managed to catch up to one unable to scurry away from me before I could plead for help, possibly because her fat *** seemed to weigh in excess of a metric ton. I ask her where I can find some Scotch tape.
" Scotch tape?" she asks.
Oh, Jesus. Here we go again. "Yeah, Scotch tape."
"Check the cleaning supplies aisle over in groceries," she suggests.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to fly. I politely inform her that her suggested avenue had already been explored, and that she had best provide a more suitable answer before I buried my foot deep inside of her size-52 ***.
"Umm… hardware?" she says. This was not a more suitable answer. My reply, though nonverbal, seemed to convey my feelings on the subject. Long live the power of the facepalm!
So, Tubby walks me over to another sales assistant, who she then proceeds to ask, "Yo Quiero Scotch tape?"
The other associate turns to look at her and then, in perfect English, replies, "what’s Scotch tape?"
Oh, God. Butterball spent a few seconds trying to explain it to her before finally turning to me and again pointing me in the direction of hardware. Eager to be away from the hungry clutches of a hideous beast likely to eat me at her next feeding time, I left for hardware.
Upon entering hardware, I encounter a Hispanic lady that strongly resembled Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue, only with more tattoos and considerably less attractive. I asked her where I may procure so Scotch tape and was pointed towards automotives. Fine. Automotives sounded like a better idea than hardware, so I went to go check it out. Alas, still no Scotch tape. So, I head back to the hardware whore and demand that I be shown to the Scotch tape in automotive. She complies, and I back off to automotives with the bassist from Motley Crue in tow. She searches for a little while, but is unable to find the object of my desire. Another sales rep, who was apparently lord and master of the automotive section appeared and was flagged down for help by the ***** from hardware. After presented with the situation, the Queen of Automotive Land formally declared that Scotch tape had been discontinued.
Right. Scotch tape has been discontinued. And I’m the king of ******* Spain.
The Automotive Mistress begins a long speech about how unpopular products are discontinued after awhile and I will have nothing of it. I cut her off and ask if they have any of a product just like Scotch tape. I am taken and dragged deep into the bowels of automotives in search of this mysterious substitute. Automotives Whore points me towards some leather polish. Way to go. I take this moment to explain two thin
two things to her. First, leather polish is not Scotch tape, nor is it an acceptable substitute, nor is it even the same product. Secondly, the product on the shelf directly underneath what she had pointed me to was, in fact, Scotch tape. I then claim my prize with a satisfied grin upon my face.
"Well, that’s not the same kind," the Queen of automotives declared in an apparent attempt to save face.
Not the same kind? What the hell? It’s ******* Scotch tape! Granted, it’s Scotch tape for autos, but all that means is that the picture on the front of the can is a car seat instead of a sofa. Apparently, this was too much for my friend to handle. I removed myself from her presence in disgust. On the way back to the register, I decided to stop and get some glue. Even though I buy it frequently at Wal-Mart (I use it a lot), I had some difficulty locating it at this particular store. I did not, however, at any point stoop to asking salespeople for help finding it. Given my past experienc
i know…
wasn’t the best ending in my perspective

Technorati Tags: aisle, boxes, carpet cleaners, cart, excuse, household cleaning, immigrant worker, journey, memory, mistake, old lady, orange man, paper towels, quota, sanity, scotch tape, shopping, stares, stocking, wal mart

mine went something like this….

There is not a SINGLE competent individual employed within a 20-mile radius of my place of business. I am surrounded ENTIRELY by idiots and social rejects. I understand that I work in what is essentially Brooklyns’s armpit, but Jesus fucking CHRIST, everyone I see is nothing more than a pathetic waste of the nasty-ass body they inhabit.
It was my lunch hour. I needed Scotch tape. I went to the Wal-Mart down the road to procure some. Little did I know that this would become a battle with my own sanity before I left. Now, I can’t say that I’ve been shopping for Scotch tape in recent memory, so I wasn’t exactly sure where to find it. My best guess placed me in the aisle with all of the household cleaning supplies. No go. So I went an aisle over to find some immigrant worker stocking paper towels. Clearly, this guy would know where to find the Scotch tape. Or, at least, that’s what I thought at first.
"Excuse me, Sir? I’m looking for Scotch tape," I say.
The man looks up from his work, standing up to a good three and a half feet tall. Apparently, this particular Wal-Mart was looking to meet its Oompa Loompa quota. " Scotch tape?" he asks?
"Yeah, Scotch tape."
He stares at me blankly for a few seconds. "Spray?" he confusedly replies.
Oh, Jesus. This was a mistake. "No, it’s not a spray."
So, Oompy Boy takes me back to the aisle I was just in, points into it, and declares "Spray." Then, he walks off. And so we have strike one. I set off again to locate somebody that both worked there AND spoke English, a task that would prove nigh-impossible. I eventually run into this old lady dragging a cart of boxes around. I ask her where the Scotch tape is. She replies that it’s either in the aisle I was just in, or in the aisle with the carpet cleaners. Well, I was just in the aisle I was just in, and couldn’t find the Scotch tape even with the assistance of a little orange man. I relayed this information to the lady.
She took me back to the aisle I was just in, anyways. I hate people.
As soon as the lady realized that there was not, in fact, any Scotch tape in this aisle, I was pointed in the direction of carpet cleaners about halfway across the store. I embarked on my journey at once. I soon arrived, but alas, no Scotch tape. The carpet cleaners section contained, amazingly enough, only carpet cleaners. Apparently not having suffered enough from my previous two encounters, I again set out to seek the assistance of a salesperson. Each attempt proved increasingly difficult, as salespeople at this particular Wal-Mart were about as elusive as naked women at the Neverland Ranch. I had made it all the way to pool supplies before I managed to catch up to one unable to scurry away from me before I could plead for help, possibly because her fat ass seemed to weigh in excess of a metric ton. I ask her where I can find some Scotch tape.
" Scotch tape?" she asks.
Oh, Jesus. Here we go again. "Yeah, Scotch tape."
"Check the cleaning supplies aisle over in groceries," she suggests.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to fly. I politely inform her that her suggested avenue had already been explored, and that she had best provide a more suitable answer before I buried my foot deep inside of her size-52 ass.
"Umm… hardware?" she says. This was not a more suitable answer. My reply, though nonverbal, seemed to convey my feelings on the subject. Long live the power of the facepalm!
So, Tubby walks me over to another sales assistant, who she then proceeds to ask, "Yo Quiero Scotch tape?"
The other associate turns to look at her and then, in perfect English, replies, "what’s Scotch tape?"
Oh, God. Butterball spent a few seconds trying to explain it to her before finally turning to me and again pointing me in the direction of hardware. Eager to be away from the hungry clutches of a hideous beast likely to eat me at her next feeding time, I left for hardware.
Upon entering hardware, I encounter a Hispanic lady that strongly resembled Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue, only with more tattoos and considerably less attractive. I asked her where I may procure so Scotch tape and was pointed towards automotives. Fine. Automotives sounded like a better idea than hardware, so I went to go check it out. Alas, still no Scotch tape. So, I head back to the hardware whore and demand that I be shown to the Scotch tape in automotive. She complies, and I back off to automotives with the bassist from Motley Crue in tow. She searches for a little while, but is unable to find the object of my desire. Another sales rep, who was apparently lord and master of the automotive section appeared and was flagged down for help by the bitch from hardware. After presented with the situation, the Queen of Automotive Land formally declared that Scotch tape had been discontinued.
Right. Scotch tape has been discontinued. And I’m the king of fucking Spain.
The Automotive Mistress begins a long speech about how unpopular
none of this shit actually happened…

sorry

Technorati Tags: aisle, armpit, carpet cleaners, excuse, fucking christ, household cleaning, immigrant worker, lunch hour, mile radius, nasty ass, old lady, orange man, paper towels, place of business, quota, sanity, scotch tape, stares, stocking, wal mart

mine went something like this

There is not a SINGLE competent individual employed within a 20-mile radius of my place of business. I am surrounded ENTIRELY by idiots and social rejects. I understand that I work in what is essentially Brooklyns’s armpit, but Jesus fucking CHRIST, everyone I see is nothing more than a pathetic waste of the nasty-ass body they inhabit.
It was my lunch hour. I needed Scotch tape. I went to the Wal-Mart down the road to procure some. Little did I know that this would become a battle with my own sanity before I left. Now, I can’t say that I’ve been shopping for Scotch tape in recent memory, so I wasn’t exactly sure where to find it. My best guess placed me in the aisle with all of the household cleaning supplies. No go. So I went an aisle over to find some immigrant worker stocking paper towels. Clearly, this guy would know where to find the Scotch tape. Or, at least, that’s what I thought at first.
"Excuse me, Sir? I’m looking for Scotch tape," I say.
The man looks up from his work, standing up to a good three and a half feet tall. Apparently, this particular Wal-Mart was looking to meet its Oompa Loompa quota. " Scotch tape?" he asks?
"Yeah, Scotch tape."
He stares at me blankly for a few seconds. "Spray?" he confusedly replies.
Oh, Jesus. This was a mistake. "No, it’s not a spray."
So, Oompy Boy takes me back to the aisle I was just in, points into it, and declares "Spray." Then, he walks off. And so we have strike one. I set off again to locate somebody that both worked there AND spoke English, a task that would prove nigh-impossible. I eventually run into this old lady dragging a cart of boxes around. I ask her where the Scotch tape is. She replies that it’s either in the aisle I was just in, or in the aisle with the carpet cleaners. Well, I was just in the aisle I was just in, and couldn’t find the Scotch tape even with the assistance of a little orange man. I relayed this information to the lady.
She took me back to the aisle I was just in, anyways. I hate people.
As soon as the lady realized that there was not, in fact, any Scotch tape in this aisle, I was pointed in the direction of carpet cleaners about halfway across the store. I embarked on my journey at once. I soon arrived, but alas, no Scotch tape. The carpet cleaners section contained, amazingly enough, only carpet cleaners. Apparently not having suffered enough from my previous two encounters, I again set out to seek the assistance of a salesperson. Each attempt proved increasingly difficult, as salespeople at this particular Wal-Mart were about as elusive as naked women at the Neverland Ranch. I had made it all the way to pool supplies before I managed to catch up to one unable to scurry away from me before I could plead for help, possibly because her fat ass seemed to weigh in excess of a metric ton. I ask her where I can find some Scotch tape.
" Scotch tape?" she asks.
Oh, Jesus. Here we go again. "Yeah, Scotch tape."
"Check the cleaning supplies aisle over in groceries," she suggests.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to fly. I politely inform her that her suggested avenue had already been explored, and that she had best provide a more suitable answer before I buried my foot deep inside of her size-52 ass.
"Umm… hardware?" she says. This was not a more suitable answer. My reply, though nonverbal, seemed to convey my feelings on the subject. Long live the power of the facepalm!
So, Tubby walks me over to another sales assistant, who she then proceeds to ask, "Yo Quiero Scotch tape?"
The other associate turns to look at her and then, in perfect English, replies, "what’s Scotch tape?"
Oh, God. Butterball spent a few seconds trying to explain it to her before finally turning to me and again pointing me in the direction of hardware. Eager to be away from the hungry clutches of a hideous beast likely to eat me at her next feeding time, I left for hardware.
Upon entering hardware, I encounter a Hispanic lady that strongly resembled Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue, only with more tattoos and considerably less attractive. I asked her where I may procure so Scotch tape and was pointed towards automotives. Fine. Automotives sounded like a better idea than hardware, so I went to go check it out. Alas, still no Scotch tape. So, I head back to the hardware whore and demand that I be shown to the Scotch tape in automotive. She complies, and I back off to automotives with the bassist from Motley Crue in tow. She searches for a little while, but is unable to find the object of my desire. Another sales rep, who was apparently lord and master of the automotive section appeared and was flagged down for help by the bitch from hardware. After presented with the situation, the Queen of Automotive Land formally declared that Scotch tape had been discontinued.
Right. Scotch tape has been discontinued. And I’m the king of fucking Spain.
The Automotive Mistress begins a long speech about how unpopular

Technorati Tags: aisle, armpit, carpet cleaners, excuse, fucking christ, household cleaning, immigrant worker, lunch hour, mile radius, nasty ass, old lady, orange man, paper towels, place of business, quota, sanity, scotch tape, stares, stocking, wal mart

my day basically went like this

It was after school, and after lacrosse practice. I needed Scotch tape. I went to the Wal-Mart down the road to procure some. Little did I know that this would become a battle with my own sanity before I left. Now, I can’t say that I’ve been shopping for Scotch tape in recent memory, so I wasn’t exactly sure where to find it. My best guess placed me in the aisle with all of the household cleaning supplies. No go. So I went an aisle over to find some immigrant worker stocking paper towels. Clearly, this guy would know where to find the Scotch tape. Or, at least, that’s what I thought at first.
"Excuse me, Sir? I’m looking for Scotch tape," I say.
The man looks up from his work, standing up to a good three and a half feet tall. Apparently, this particular Wal-Mart was looking to meet its Oompa Loompa quota. " Scotch tape?" he asks?
"Yeah, Scotch tape."
He stares at me blankly for a few seconds. "Spray?" he confusedly replies.
Oh, Jesus. This was a mistake. "No, it’s not a spray."
So, Oompy Boy takes me back to the aisle I was just in, points into it, and declares "Spray." Then, he walks off. And so we have strike one. I set off again to locate somebody that both worked there AND spoke English, a task that would prove nigh-impossible. I eventually run into this old lady dragging a cart of boxes around. I ask her where the Scotch tape is. She replies that it’s either in the aisle I was just in, or in the aisle with the carpet cleaners. Well, I was just in the aisle I was just in, and couldn’t find the Scotch tape even with the assistance of a little orange man. I relayed this information to the lady.
She took me back to the aisle I was just in, anyways. I hate people.
As soon as the lady realized that there was not, in fact, any Scotch tape in this aisle, I was pointed in the direction of carpet cleaners about halfway across the store. I embarked on my journey at once. I soon arrived, but alas, no Scotch tape. The carpet cleaners section contained, amazingly enough, only carpet cleaners. Apparently not having suffered enough from my previous two encounters, I again set out to seek the assistance of a salesperson. Each attempt proved increasingly difficult, as salespeople at this particular Wal-Mart were about as elusive as naked women at the Neverland Ranch. I had made it all the way to pool supplies before I managed to catch up to one unable to scurry away from me before I could plead for help, possibly because her fat ass seemed to weigh in excess of a metric ton. I ask her where I can find some Scotch tape.
" Scotch tape?" she asks.
Oh, Jesus. Here we go again. "Yeah, Scotch tape."
"Check the cleaning supplies aisle over in groceries," she suggests.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to fly. I politely inform her that her suggested avenue had already been explored, and that she had best provide a more suitable answer before I buried my foot deep inside of her size-52 ass.
"Umm… hardware?" she says. This was not a more suitable answer. My reply, though nonverbal, seemed to convey my feelings on the subject. Long live the power of the facepalm!
So, Tubby walks me over to another sales assistant, who she then proceeds to ask, "Yo Quiero Scotch tape?"
The other associate turns to look at her and then, in perfect English, replies, "what’s Scotch tape?"
Oh, God. Butterball spent a few seconds trying to explain it to her before finally turning to me and again pointing me in the direction of hardware. Eager to be away from the hungry clutches of a hideous beast likely to eat me at her next feeding time, I left for hardware.
Upon entering hardware, I encounter a Hispanic lady that strongly resembled Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue, only with more tattoos and considerably less attractive. I asked her where I may procure so Scotch tape and was pointed towards automotives. Fine. Automotives sounded like a better idea than hardware, so I went to go check it out. Alas, still no Scotch tape. So, I head back to the hardware whore and demand that I be shown to the Scotch tape in automotive. She complies, and I back off to automotives with the bassist from Motley Crue in tow. She searches for a little while, but is unable to find the object of my desire. Another sales rep, who was apparently lord and master of the automotive section appeared and was flagged down for help by the bitch from hardware. After presented with the situation, the Queen of Automotive Land formally declared that Scotch tape had been discontinued.
Right. Scotch tape has been discontinued. And I’m the king of fucking Spain.
The Automotive Mistress begins a long speech about how unpopular products are discontinued after awhile and I will have nothing of it. I cut her off and ask if they have any of a product just like Scotch tape. I am taken and dragged deep into the bowels of automotives in search of this mysterious substitute. Automotives Whore points me towards some leather polish. Way to go. I t

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