Gas Station Extravaganza

I don't know what it is about me and gas stations. Or should I say, me and gas station attendants? I'm just an average girl, I don't go out of my way to draw attention to myself, and I prefer to get gas and get going, not chat with the attendant on the way.

This strange phenomenon between me and gas station attendants has started since I turned 17, the age where I was legally able to drive (i.e. go to a gas station alone and get gas on my own). I would generally go to the same local gas station and get however much gas I could afford (when gas was way cheaper than it is now!). Inevitably, the gas station attendants were male and apparently felt the absolute need to say something to me. Whether it was a comment on my hair or asking what I was doing later that night, they would find something to say to me. It got to a point where I was absolutely dreading going to get gas. I really preferred to be left alone and just have the gas pumped without any commentary.

I came to find that this allure that gas station attendants apparently held for me was not solely at my own local gas station. When I ventured further out into my area, I found more of the same occurrences. One gas station attendant proceeded to tell me how fascinated he was by my CD carrier. Yes. Really! My black, plain, leather CD carrying case was apparently a source of amazement for one gas station attendant. He raved about my CD carrying case for the whole time I was waiting for my 18 gallon gas tank to fill up.

Some of these adventures did not just happen to me alone. Some of them happened with Miss Petunia in presence, and I am sure she can share some of her gas station tales with us as well!

As I grew older, I thought (foolishly) that I had grown out of this odd stage of being a constant source of attraction for gas station attendants. Last month, however, I went to a gas station and asked if they could please fill up my tank, regular.

As the gas station attendant walked towards my car to hand me my credit card back, he asked: "How did you get to be so cute?"

What the hell?? Just give me my gas!

Perhaps this is one of the drawbacks of our lovely Garden State having gas station attendants? After all...

Expect More. Expect Less.

Target used to be this wonderful store filled with affordable yet stylish clothing, shoes, home decor, etc. It was often called Tar-jey because by making it sound French, it was classy, timeless, and chic. Tyra Banks even gave it props on Oprah about eight years ago because it was so awesome. It was where I went to buy basic things like contact solution, vitamins, gum, pet supplies, and Fruity Pebbles. While shopping at Target I did not feel like white trash or that I was promoting the poor treatment of employees (cough, Wal*mart, cough). I felt like I was classy, timeless, and chic. Well, sort of.

Lately Target has been the least likely place I will go to shop. I wouldn't say the quality of their merchandise has gone down but the selection has. They promote items in their weekly sales circular that they often don't even carry in the store. It's frustrating but the lack of items is not even my biggest complaint.

Target looks and smells like a greasy neon carnival tore through the store and stole its pizzazz and aesthetics. I'm sure this is not true for all Target stores, but my local Target is gross. The shelves are cluttered and disheveled, the fitting rooms are beyond recognition due to the piles and carts full of clothes that block the entrance to it, and the place is just dirty. Most price scanners don't work. At any given time there are about three registers open, none of which are express, so you have to wait behind people with their carts packed while you're carrying about five items. This has more to do with my opinion of aesthetics than it does with actual functionality, but their cash registers are just scary. They're the same ones from about ten years ago but are terribly discolored and clunky looking. The same is true for their customer service counter. It's a time waaaaaarp! Not helping matters is the disgusting and poor excuse for a "food court" they have near a majority of the registers. I have a sneaking suspicion that the grease particles from the scary Taco Bell and scarier Pizza Hut travels toward the registers and clings to them, causing permanent discoloration. Improbable but still a gross thought nonetheless. The store reeks like old oil from a deep fryer that hasn't been cleaned in a decade. I wouldn't eat there if you paid me. And I think free food is great.

Overall I feel like Target's entire image needs some revamping. I know they're trying to be more competitive with stores like Wal*mart, especially in the midst of this wonderful economic climate we're experiencing, but I think they need to try a little harder. Right now Wal*mart looks like a waterfront condo while Target looks like a double wide in a trailer park. Time to get it together, Tar-jey! De-stink your store, get rid of the scary prepared "food" that you sell there, and clean it all up. Then I'll love you again forever and ever.

Luftwaffe, WTF? Oh, wait, I mean Lufthansa.

It was March of 2008 and I was on my way back from Italy, via Munich, Germany. It was 8 hours and 40 minutes of being stuck on a ginormous jet, zipping across the European continent and over the Atlantic Ocean back towards the East Coast of the United States. It was 8 hours and 40 minutes of being squashed in uncomfortable positions with no leg room, minimal food, and minimal drinks. I was doing my best not to look at my watch so that time would appear to move faster, but no matter what I did, time just crawled by, making it seem like I would never get back home.

Thankfully, we reached the North American coast and began our inevitable circling over Newark. I don't know what it was...maybe it was the circling, the length of time being stuck in the jet, or dehydration, but I started feeling hot and nauseous and was just dying to be back on the ground. After about 45 minutes or so of circling around, the lovely intense feeling of the jet's wheels hitting solid earth made contact, jarring my body with satisfaction. As we were taxiing to the gate, I whipped out my cell phone (as I always do during this time on the countless number of flights I have been on) to notify my fiance and my parents that I have finally returned home.

Before I knew it, I was being reprimanded like an 8 year old child. Standing in front of me was a tall blonde-haired, blue-eyed German Lufthansa flight attendant telling me yelling at me in her thick German accent: "YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO USE CELL PHONES HERE. YOU KNOW THAT."

Way to be nice about it. First of all, as I have mentioned before, I ALWAYS call people when we are taxiing to the gate. Never ONCE has a flight attendant lectured at me, yelled at me, or asked me nicely to please put my phone away.

Second of all: SERIOUSLY? You're going to YELL at me for using my cell phone after being stuck on this godforsaken piece of metal for almost 9 hours? You can't even ask me politely or tell me nicely that cell phone use is not allowed until we actually reach the gate?

Lufthansa, you SUCK for hiring mean flight attendants. Thanks for making my traveling experience get to the point where I was more thankful than ever to just get the hell home. FAIL!