Archive for April 22, 2009

I had this conversation earlier with a co-worker and I thought that since I’m always going on a rant about Food Stamps then I should at lease clue everyone in to WHY I go on a rant.. and it has alot more to do with the amount of money they take of my paycheck to issue those stamps.

I don’t know if all states work this way but mine does.

NOTE: If your state DOESNT operate the same way, don’t send me hate mail saying that I don’t know what I’m talking about because I do.

Ok.. so me and Cheif own a grocery store / deli. Most of our customers live on food stamps. You’d think that it would make me happy right? People spending the state’s money in my store?

But consider this:

On average, it takes 15 to 20 BUSINESS days for the state to reimburse us. That works out to roughly a month.

So if we sell 100lbs of lunch meat paid for by food stamps, we STILL have to replace that 100lbs of lunch meat the next day or we won’t have anything to sell, right?

If I don’t get reimbursed for that 100lbs of lunch meat until a month later, how do you think I buy more?

Yep.. with my money.

Can’t use the STORE’S money because the state didn’t give it to me yet.

Okay .. so you’re saying that that isn’t the recipients problem, right? No. Not really. But it’s a kick in the teeth to the people who actually work and pay for there stuff using their OWN money. Because I do have those customers also.

Take Soda for example. Because soda is fizzy, it’s taxable.

You come into my store and i have to charge you state sales tax.

BUT .. if someone pays using food stamps, I am not ALLOWED to charge them tax. So while you pay 1.59.. they pay 1.50. because the state doesn’t want you to tax their own money even though it gets turned right back over to them quarterly. That would mean LESS money for the food stamp user to have!

So now you’re probably thinking that if I collect state tax and turn it back to the state quarterly, then what’s the big damn deal?

Here it is.. doing business taxes is not like doing personal taxes. DUH! And when you have a business like ours, the state worries that you’re going to cheat them so how to they guarentee themselves that they’re getting what’s do them?

They base your taxes on your inventory and delivery receipts. I have to pay tax on every case of soda I buy. But if most of the sodas are bought with food stamps.. and I cannot charge tax for THEM .. then who pays for it?


Here’s another thing. I cannot set a minimum amount. You know when you go to a store or wherever and there’s a sign that says that there’s a minimum purchase amount for credit or debit card users?

You know why that is? That’s becasue the little machine that they use to swipe your card? It’s costs money per swipe. On average, with every little hidden cost (transaction fees, monthly service charge, etc.) an average swipe costs around .70.

Now, we’re not ALLOWED to put a minimum purchase amount for food stampers. So if someone wanted to buy a 0.10 piece of bubble gum or a 0.05 piece of Swedish Fish.. then I HAVE to do it. It’s illegal for me not to and comes with some ridiculous fine.. I believe 10,000.00.

And please don’t say that I’m exaggerating… that people don’t actually come in to buy a nickle piece of candy and use their card.

I’m not exaggerating.

It happens.. and happens fairly often, especially towards the end of the month when they only have change left on their card.

So basically, I’m losing money instead of making a profit.

This is another thing you may not know. FOOD stamps will only allow you to by FOOD.

Not toilet paper, not soap, not shampoo, not laundry detergent….

But they can buy lobster tail, prime rib and filet mignon.. because it’s food.

Tell me that’s not fucked up. You can’t wipe your ass, take a shower, shampoo your hair or wear clean clothes BUT you can eat lobster.

Does that seem fair?


Posted: April 22, 2009 in Lyrics
Tags: , , ,

I got troubled thoughts
And the self esteem to match

What A Catch, Donnie Fall Out Boy


Posted: April 22, 2009 in Convos
Tags: , , , ,

MOM: This is going to be my last unemployment check

ME: Oh. Shame.

MOM: Think I’ll get another extension?

ME: .. and I would know that, why?

MOM: You know, where do they get all this money to pay unemployment when they give out extentions.

ME: Where else? The people that work. Like.. oh, I don’t know… ME?

MOM: Why are you paying my unemployment?

ME: Do you think that the unemployment they take from my paycheck goes into an envelope with my name on it? No, it goes into a general fund that gets distributed and with more people going on unemployement there isn’t going to be any left for me if I get laid off.

MOM: Oh. Shame.

There’s a kid that works in my office building that reminds me so much of you that sometimes I have to do a double take.

I know you’re not going to read this.. I also know that if you were standing before me you wouldn’t listen to any of it but I have to release it from my heart.

I have been in your life for 625 days. You’ve been out of the house, for one reason or another :: jail, rehab, etc. :: for 142 of those days.

When I met your father, he was so proud of you. How smart you were. How musically and artisticlly inclined you were.. how you could pick up any instrument and play it within hours. How you wrote music. What a fanstastic artist you were. How you had your own mind and opinions and could hold more adult conversations then most of the adults that he knew. How.. when it was just the two of you.. you would be on one side of the couch with your nose in a book and he would be on the other side of the couch doing the same thing. How big a help you were when he had the catering business and he needed your help. I never really saw him treat you like a son.. more like a best friend. And maybe that was the problem.

I remember when I first started spending alot of time at the house and we started getting used to being around each other and you used to say something so dry and non-chalant that it would have us in hysterics.

I remember being at the house when your dad was working an event and giving you a 10 or 20 because you were going to be hanging with your friends and how appreciative you were and how you used to tell me it was too much.. and how appreciative I was that you thought that.

I remember how much I looked forward to the prom you went to.. making sure your tux didn’t get dog hair on it and going to your girlfriends house and meeting her family and taking tons of pictures.

I remember our last Christmas together when I stayed up late to decorate a mug for the Crack Whore because Spaz fell asleep and you commented to your dad that he was surprised that I did half-ass it and he said that was because I was good woman and I did it more for Spaz. And you agreed that I was.

I remember when you came to me the night you broke up with THAT GIRL and asked me to please get her out of the house because she wouldn’t leave. I did and you thanked me with a big hug. That was the first time you did that. Unfortunately, the only one.

I don’t know what happened. Well, I do. I know that it wasn’t until you met her that things took a nose dive. You own the decisions that you make but being on the outside looking in, it all started with her and the people she introduced you to.

What you may not know is the day you were arrested back in May 08, your father crumbled. Literally melted. And when he went into your bedroom.. saw the condition it was in and found all the SoCo and JD bottles, that was the closest he’s been to drinking in 6 years. He got rid of all that stuff because he didn’t want me to see it. He was embarassed for me to becuase he didn’t want me to think differently of him as a father.

Your father is a strong man. Both mentally and physically but you going to jail was a breaking point. He would break out in sobs randomly on top of dealing with his own drinking demons.

He fought hard and made a lot of promises to the Judge and Police Chief to get you into rehab and while you were there, he had such high hopes for you again even though he knows better then anyone that rehab doesn’t work unless you want it to.

I believe the only thing rehab did for you was give you the opportunity to make connections and learn the ropes of dealing. Because when you came out, you got in faster and deeper then you were before.

You weren’t flying under the radar, you were standing on the corner with a neon sign over your head.

You used the store … the store your father had hoped one day you would run on your own or at least give you the knowledge to open your own .. as a dealing post.

You dealt from the house without any regard for the well being or custody of your two brothers.

Brother, I remind you, that you insisted never see your mother again because of the people she had over at her place doing heroin and crack.

Yet there you were putting them in jeopardy.

I just don’t understand. And maybe that’s because Im not a drug user or alcoholic. But I think that deep down things progressed the way they did because you knew that he was disappointed in you. I could be wrong but you won’t tell me if I’m right either.

During all this.. I tried to be the buffer between the both of you. I didn’t want your relationship to be destroyed regardless of what happened because he’s the only normal parent you have.. but I couldn’t let you get away with saying the things you did about me. I’ve done nothing but love you, support you and treat you fairly.. and yet you want to stab me, jump me, punch me in the face.

The sad thing is is that I understand that YOU are not YOU anymore. You’re a junkie. You think like one, act like one, live like one. You’re no longer the son your dad was proud of .. who had that tiger by the tail and could have made anything out of themselves.

This morning I saw you crossing the blvd on the way to work. You look horrible and even from a distance could see the dark circles under your eyes.. the pimples.. the skeleton on the back of your jacket had more meat on it’s bones then you did.

My first instant was to beep the horn but I stopped myself. You’re a stranger now.. not the handsome kid with the denim blue eyes and the crooked front tooth that made you more handsome.

There’s nothing that I can say that’s going to make you not be what you are now.. especially since living with your mother only promotes the life style your leading now.

I doubt that you will ever live in my house again. Not because people change or relationships heal but because by the time you realize how you’re living.. before you get the chance to get over your anger at your father and him over his anger for you, you’ll be dead or in jail.

The night I took you to the ER and found out that you were dealing Percs, I told you that it wasn’t going to end up good. You said that nothing was going to happen to you and I replied that I could take you to the cemetary and show you the graves of all my friends who said the same damn thing.

It kills me more that your mother is perpetrating your life style.. that she is more concerned with feeding her addiction then realize that you are turning out just like her.

Maybe it’s the dna.. maybe you were predispositioned.. I don’t pretend to understand the draw of addiction other then that there’s usually alot of subconscience or subliminal pain.

My hope for you is that one day you will be able to look back and understand why you did the things you did and why people turned away from you.

You’ll be missing out on alot of things.. you’ll be missing out on a family that you never had.. you’ll be missing out on the good things in life and for that, I a m sorry but will not feel guilty because as I said, you only own the decisions that you are making.

Making Lemonade Out Of Cherry Pits

Posted: April 22, 2009 in Friends

I’ve known CATH for about 5 years.. since I started working at the company that I work for now.. and we’ve become extremely close.

We’re alot a like in that both of us have a strong work ethic, can’t stand office gossip, tells it like it is and hates the phony, catty, bitchy, whiny, nosiness that are most of my co-workers. We have eaten lunch everyday for the good majority of those 5 years and there is nothing that she doesn’t know about me or I about her.

Cath has been dealing with severe rheumatoid arthritis for a long time.. and with the steady decline of her mother’s alzeheimer’s. She also has to contend with 7 sisters who :; except for on for 2 :: are no where to be found. She’s a strong woman. A warrior-ess.

A few months ago, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She has handled it like she has handled everything else … you just do.

She’s not a violin player.. not a whiner.. not a “why me”-er. She hasn’t lost her sense of humor or ability Oh.. AND she never gained modesty!! LOL…

She’ll pop open her shirt to anyone who asks .. “Look how good the scars look!” or “See how much the inflators inflated?”

When she returned back to work she was already bald. It was still winter so she used to wear either a turban, a knitted cap or a wig that looked SO much like her own hairstyle you really couldn’t tell the difference.

I guess it’s difficult getting used to a wig when your not used to wearing one so at any given point during the day she would whip it off and toss it in the corner of her desk.

When she wore the turban, she would deadpan tell people that she was going to read their fortunes.

It was hilarious.. and still is. Her cube is two or three up from mine so I don’t generally see her except for break and lunch. At 10am break, she had her wig on and wsa complaining that she was getting irritated with it was just felt like winging it across the room.

I told her to go ahead.. it’ll probably make her feel better.

She just popped into my cube now and she was wearing a peach colored turban that made me do a double take. She looked at me like “what????”

I said, “Yknow.. you could have least put on a color that I could spot in the cafeteria!”

She laughed.. and that’s always a good sign.