Dear Home Depot - You are a Prostitution Whore

OK readers....all three of you. I apologize for not having written in almost three weeks. I can't believe I did that to....all three of you...but I will try my damnedest to not be such a struggle. I mean at least with take such a hiatus. In my defense, I've been moving my stuff to the new place and have been high off of the paint fumes that my new room has created. Ironically, this leads into my story.

So I just moved into an awesome pad with a friend from college, Ryan (the fact that our names are almost the same drives our landlords crazy), and we've been trying to spruce the place up because we both think this might be more than a year residency. Ryan got to painting his room first, and it was really good which obviously filled me with jealousy so I decided that I had to paint my now ugly-stepsister room to fix it.

Ryan had gone to this little hardware store down the street, so I figured I would check that out too because it was so close and GOD am I lazy. I should have known that this plan wasn't going to work when I saw the man behind the counter with the battery hog called DROID X. Or Droid sexchange as I call it. After much deliberation on color, I bring the swatches to this foul man only to be told that they only have gallons of paint, and nothing smaller. I am NOT buying a gallon of paint for an accent wall mister, so you can S my Patti Lupone loving balls and kiss this star goodbye!

Defeated from the deplorable situation, I realized that priming the room would have to be sufficient for the time being, Luckily, I only spilt the can once!

As Ryan was masterfully applying the primer on the seems, and I slopping it on like Liza in heat doing a tap number, Home Depot came up in conversation as an alternative route.

For those of you that don't know, I did commercial construction for three years. Laugh all you want and make all of the funny jokes, but did you ever have a license to abate asbestos? Didn't think so. Anyways, in all my time there we went to Home Depot maybe twice, and it was only if we couldn't get it somewhere else. My bosses' name for the store was Home Cheapo, which I really enjoyed. My new name for it is Home Cheapfuckerswhotakemysoulawayandmakemewanttodieonasaturdaynight.

Tell us how you really feel Brian?!

...

OK

So the first shame actually goes to me iPhone and the MTA. I plugged in the locations in my phone to get transit directions, and the phone had me take the R train. First off, I waited 30 minutes before the train came. When I asked the train scheduling asshole person what the deal was, he said, "Uhhh, I don't know. The trains always run late on the weekends". It is not my fault that the entire MTA staff had missing chromosomes that night. My phone also failed to mention that there is a bus that is not only more direct, but faster and more frequent.

When I finally got there, about 20 people were waiting in line behind the paint counter. It was a Saturday night, so I can't imagine why all of these lame d-bags decided to come buy paint......oh wait.

Anyways, once I got to the counter I told the woman that I wanted a gallon of one color and a half gallon of the other. Instead of telling me what the options were, she word pukes and says, "tchmpt, we don't have half gallons. I can't help you if you don't know what we have. And you didn't tell me what kind of paint you want...flat, eggshell, glossy, semi-gloss, high gloss, glossy eggshell, flat gloss, semi-flat eggshell, high flat semi-gloss eggshell?"

Once I got over that situation, I ran for the nearest counter to check the F out. The only problem was the huge lines at every corner (man I was apart of a really lame crowd of people...) so I did what any hasting all-consuming American would do and went to self check out.

When I got to the machine that would help me end this already terrible experience, I was told by the man running the line that my machine did not take credit cards. I was fine with this, until another girl came up and told me that she would work around the system and take care of me......I know how Point of Sale systems work, and this was a bad idea from the get go.

Needless to say, her antics made their entire system freeze, to which she fled the scene and had a manager take over. I showed the manager on my phone that my card had already been charged. She informed me that because a receipt was not produced she would have to run the card again.

Really?

Because the only thing I pay twice for is Fast Food.....do you get it? LOL? No? Whatever.

Basically I bitched enough and threw the fleeting girl under the bus to get the manager to not make me pay again. I think the paint will end up being free once everything clears so YAY!

Sadly, Home Fuckmysoulonemoretimeandseewhathappens...idareyou won in the end. I had forgotten my card at the counter and had to go back this morning to pick it up.

LOVES AND STRUGGS
B DANN