*Tuesday*

Henna stunk up the ladies room again. What the fuck? She doesn't flush the toilet, either. It's disgusting. Everytime Henna "drops a deuce" she leaves it floating in the bowl for all to see. Then she wipes her fat ass with nearly a whole roll of that cheap, 1-ply scratchy toilet paper they supply us with and sprays half a can of Glade Mountain Air Freshener around the stall, like we'll just think we walked into the great outdoors instead of one of her stinky steamer sessions. When she's done in the crapper, she sneaks out of the bathroom like she just committed a murder and doesn't want to be noticed leaving the scene of the crime. Don't worry, Henna. No one knows it was you. Not even the four feet of toilet paper stuck to your shoe you've been dragging around the market all morning gives it away, you stupid bitch.



*Wednesday*

It's the day before Thanksgiving. I haven't had a day off in 4 days and I'm ready to scream.This place is packed. Screaming kids, smelly senior citizens, moms in their pajamas with curlers in their hair wearing slippers. Where the fuck did that look come from? I'd put a bullet through my curler-clad head before I'd ever leave the house looking like that! Seriously, what are people thinking? "Hmmm, I just got my ragged, unemployed ass up from bed at the crack of noon and since my life is a total waste of space and I don't have to meet with my parole office until next week, I might as well not put clothes on and do some shopping. Oh, wait. I'd better wrap a brightly colored bandana around my head, so I won't look like a total shitbum." What the fuck? This market is the Jerry Springer Show without the cameras.

I have to pee.

I hate to ring. I've handled so many turkeys I've lost three of my fingers to frostbite. Henna's supervising, which means that I might as well piss myself, because she's never going to let me leave the register. My line is like three miles long and my bladder is going to burst. Oh fuck! Not that asshole, again. He always comes to my line. The 40 year old Hispanic guy with the hygeine problem is in my fucking line again and I know he's going to ask me out for the 10,000th time. He thinks he impresses me when he displays that yummy bright yellow smile of his. What a scrub! He was in a few days ago and came through my line to just buy a Kit Kat as an excuse to talk to me. "Jooo loook veeery preeety, today, Senora." Yeah, that's it, pal. Sweet talk me. His breath smells almost as bad as one of Henna's bathroom breaks. His dirty fingernails and that red 1980's Members Only jacket are such turn-ons I'm going to have trouble keeping my hands off him....after I throw up, that is.



* THANKSGIVING DAY*

Yay for me. It's Thanksgiving and I have the entire day off. Fuck you, shoppers!



*Friday*

I feel like shit. I must have eaten too much yesterday. I could hardly get into my jeans. Speaking of getting into my pants, that fat, horny, sleazy store manager, Mr. Dudley is working tonight. What a pervert. You'd better cover up your Diet Pepsi when he's around, otherwise he'll drop a roofie in it when you're not watching and try to get in your panties. Everyone knows he's a sleazy bastard.
Anyways, Mr. Dudley asked me if I felt like working overtime tonight. He asks me that everytime he works. He says I'm one of "the best cashiers" in the store. Even though that may be true, I'm convinced that the only reason I get so much overtime from Mr. Dudley is, that I also have the third largest set of ta ta's in the store. Fuck you, Mr. Dudley. You've got about as much chance getting me into bed as Henna's got taking a scentless shit.



*Saturday*

Mr. Dudley made his usual harrassing comments last night. I always take a shower as soon as I get home from working with him. This guy should really start leaving young girls alone and get himself an internet connection or a prostitute or something. How gross! I heard that I was $30.00 short in my register last night. I wasn't the only one on it, of course, but I was the one "mostly" on it, which means that demented fucker, Ike, in Loss Prevention will be watching me again. The LP in my store are douchebags, especially this Ike guy. He was in the service supposedly fighting the War on Terror and he came back to the US where he's fighting the war on "ethnic" cashiers. God forbid you be a dollar short and been born a Puerto Rican with Ike around. He'd never take his eyes off you. He'd stare you 24/7 with those round John Lennon geeky glasses of his and decide in his head that you're guilty. I'm not Puerto Rican, (or even ethnic for that matter), but between having a cash shortage and owning the third largest set of hooters in the store, I'm sure there's a camera aimed directly at my chest right NOW!
Henna flirts with the LP guys every chance she ges. She doesn't have any idea that they're laughing at her behind her back. Henna's not what you'd call the thinnest woman in the store. She's got some bulk to her, which wouldn't be so bad if she didn't also wear the tightest clothing in the world. I don't see how that bitch can breathe with some of the shit she wears. She's gotta be easy early 30's and she dresses like my 13 year old niece. Yesterday she was wearing this tight t-shirt with the words "Boy Krazy" on it. You get the idea. What the fuck, Henna? I have a t-shirt for you. How about you get one that says, "I Make Stinky Turds" or "Don't Flush" or "Smelly Bathroom Beyotch!" Fuckin Bitch Whore! I can't stand her!



*Sunday*

It's almost the first of the month! Fucking EBT time. That means my line will be full of not only genuinely poor people, but also scammers who feast on the state's titty once a month. I hate welfare fraud. Here I am making just under $10 an hour and I got some pimp ass coming through my line decked out in his Sean John clothing, his $600 leather coat, $300 Nikes, a jewelry store around his fucking neck and a carriage full of lobsters and shrimp thanks in part to my tax dollars! Then he gives me that "Well, ring my ass out, bitch!" look, like he's Donald Fucking Trump, or something.



Note to self: Henna ate 2 Buffalo Bob Twister Sandwiches for lunch today. Whatever you do, STAY OUT OF THE FUCKING LADIES ROOM!



What the fuck? 2 of the service desk girls and 3 in the grocery crew got called into the office today to be interviewed by LP over the "Dudley Dildo Deed" as it's being called aound the market. The LP guy looks scary. A fat, bald guy with a goatee. He's been in the manager's office all morning. I saw him walk in with a bunch of videotapes around 9 and he hasn't left once and it's almost noon, now! Maybe him and Dudley are in there watching porn, or something. Henna's been walking the front end looking pretty nervous all morning. Maybe she did it. Wouldn't that be hysterical? Willow Tree Chicken Salad is on sale this week, as is cooked, sliced roast beef. I can't decide what I want for lunch. Here is a supermarket full of every kind of food you can imagine and I can never find anything to eat. I CAN'T stop talking about food. Someone's getting her period next week.....



*Monday*

I only have to work for 4 hours today. I'm doing the 6-10pm shift. Nights blow. Give me a day, anytime. Daytime is when the juicy stuff happens in a supermarket. Nights, (unless it's weekend) can be dead sometimes. Mr. Malente, is the manager on tonight. He doesn't seem to be a horny pervert sleazeball like Mr. Dudley, but he's a real jerk just the same. He's mean. I guess that's the best way to describe him. He doesn't smile, doesn't say hello and he pretends you're not there. What a douchebag. At least Mr. Dudley says hello..even if he is undressing me with those little piggy eyes of his.

This place has lots of managers. Let's see if I can remember them all. There's Mr. Menaldi, (who is nothing but a skinnier Mr. Dudley with a mean streak a mile long), Joe Mastro, Linda Prince, Scott Caviar, (another douchebag and a half), Bill Flower and Jim Maxwellhouse. I think that's all of them. There are a few assistant managers mixed in but that's basically the list of managers I see on a daily basis. Oh, yeah, I almost forgot about George Pelletgun. Nice guy, but a temper and a half if you piss him the fuck off. It takes a lot of people to run a market the size of the one we have here. It obviously takes a lot of dickheads as well. We definitely have our share of them here. Dickheads are running rampant in this place. If I were ever asked by a state agency or federal inspector or someone in authority about a dickhead minimum here, I would definitely have to say that we were dickhead compliant.



*Tuesday*

Silly White Trash Bitch......Trix are for kids. Especially 50 boxes of them?
We have this total trailer park woman who shows up here once a week, (or more) and tries scamming us out of all sorts of product by using coupons. Limits mean nothing to this beyotch! She'll walk in, grab 3 carriages and fill them with quantities of whatever we have on sale. This week for example? Trix cereal. We've got it on sale for 2.00 for a 14 oz. box. (limit 3). This bitch comes in with like 50 $1.00 off coupons and another fifty, 50 cent off coupons. This way she'll try to use both coupons and get the cereal for 50 cents a box. If that isn't bad enough, (and if the cashier is new, young, or extra stupid), she'll pull out another .75 cent coupon and get the cashier to not only give her the cereal for free, but give the bitch back 25 cents per box on top of it. Believe it or not, the bitch gets away with it all the time. Mr. Malente told the bitch off once and she went and wrote a letter to the corporate office pissing and moaning about how she was dissed by him. She received a fucking apology AND a fucking gift certificate. Now Malente doesn't say a fucking thing when she comes in....she just gets what she wants and that's the end of it. I hate it when she comes through my lane. I hate that fucking white trash bitch with all I have inside of me.



*Wednesday*

Phillip, the janitor is wearing his strawberry blonde wig today. Phillip wears a wig everyday. Sometimes it's the strawberry blonde one and other times it's the snow white one. I think he's got hair underneath but he wears them anyway. I don't fucking get it. Phillip, what the fuck is your story? Write me, Phillip. Please explain your wig wearing ass to us. PLEASE!

Henna's spending a huge amount of time with Dudley and the bald LP dude, Rebello, lately. They're still investigating the dildo thing. Screw the sex toy....Maybe they should be investigating why Phillip wears those fucking wigs! Now that's an answer we all want!

I don't trust Henna....
Everytime she leaves Dudley's office, she walks by me and gives me a dirty look. Love your "Girl Power" T-shirt, Henna. If the Spice Girls ever get back together, maybe you can join. You can be "Stinky Spice", you fucking bitch ass whore!



*Thursday*

I'm a fucking bitch today! My feet hurt, I'm crampy and I'm so fucking bloated it looks like my ass has the mumps. I heard that LP wants to talk to me today. Could it be the $30 shortage or the Dudley Dildo Deed? I'm not sure, but I am sure that I'm not in the mood to put up with any shit from those assholes.

As you may have figured out, I don't deal well with LP. They come to my register to buy their snacks and drinks and give me "the long hard stare" like I'm going to grab a handful of cash out of my drawer and stuff it into my pants as they're standing there. I fucking hate LP. Sneaky bastards, that they are. Of course, I won't have to talk with those lackass, ball-cap and goatee wearing fuckers that come into the store each day. I'm sure I'll have to sit down with their boss, bald, fat, goatee-wearing, Joe Rebello. This guy's a work of art. Everytime Target comes out with a new polo shirt color, this guy's got to buy it right away. This guy owns like 20 of the same brand of shirt, all in different colors.He only wears one pair of khaki pants, though. The tan colored ones with the stain on the crotch. That's all I ever see him wear for pants. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall, it don't fucking matter. He's wearing the stained, tan khaki pants. I've had the urge to appraoch him more than once and say, "Hey, Joe, what the fuck? Buy some new pants, dude. At least wash the ones you're wearing everyday. How the fuck can someone leave their house everyday with a crotch stain? You know how when you see someone with something that really stands out? Like a huge fucking mole on their chin, or a gigantic purple blotch that takes up half their face? You can't help but stare at them, right? I mean, you don't mean to be cruel, or anything, but you just can't take your fucking eyes off it? That's the way it is with me and Joe Rebello's crotch stain. Everytime I see it, my eyes go straight to his balls and WHOOP...there it is! This guy probably thinks I'm obsessed with his crotch (and in a way I am), but not for sexual reasons. That quarter-sized stain is driving me crazy. I CAN'T TAKE MY FUCKING EYES OFF IT. PLEASE WASH YOUR FUCKING PANTS, JOE!



Friday



Kind of slow in here for a Friday morning. That's ok, though. I don't feel much like waiting on anyone. I'm still kind of miserable. Henna's miserable, too and it's all my fault. Ha ha! I was in the lounge getting a Diet Coke this morning and saw her coffee mug sitting on the table. It was about half full of steaming hot tea. No Henna around, though. In fact, the whole room was empty. I knew it was pretty safe to assume she was in the ladies room recycling last night's steak fajitas, since "Henna stench" was starting to seep out from under the door of the shithouse. I had to work fast. I run over (as quietly as possible), to my locker, open that sucker up and unwrap an OB, throwing the paper wrapper and dispenser back into the locker. Then like Tom Crusie in Mission Impossible I sneak back over to the table and with as little splashing as possible, drop the ol' tampoony into the tea. Those fucking OB's are great. I could almost hear the "SWOOOOSH" as Henna's tea got sucked up inside the hundreds and hundreds of cotton fibers. Then, to disgrace her even more, I removed the teabag from the mug and gently draped the pretty green string over the rim of the cup. Was I laughing out loud? Geeze, I hope not. I had to get the fuck out of there, before I got caught. I wasn't too worried about Henna. Her deuce droppings can be marathon sessions. I was worried about one of the other employees (or worse, a manager), popping in and catching me. I high-tailed it out of the lounge without anyone seeing me though. Wow! I feel much better. My cramps aren't as bad and I have an ear to ear smile across my face. I still have a huge zit in the midddle of my forehead, though.

You could hear the scream for a mile! I wish I had a camera. I have to buy one of those mini-digital cameras that they sell on eBay. They attach to your key chain. They're so cute. I would have loved to catch the look on Henna's face when she popped out of the bathroom and saw the OB hanging out of her coffee cup. No one was there to witness the expression on that over-painted face of hers. Too bad! The next sound everyone heard was Henna's "I Believe in Angels" Coffee Mug hitting the wall in the break room and shattering into a million pieces. The lounge is upstairs from the main sales floor, but it was so loud I could hear it at my register, over the customers and the piped-in music. Everyone in front end was like, "What the hell was that?" What was funnier was, I was the only one who knew and I wasn't going to tell anyone....except you, you lucky bitches!

The rest of this story I got second hand from Nicole who was going through the lounge on her way to the bathroom at the time of the incident, but it goes like this.....
After Jenna threw the cup against the wall she stormed out of the lounge on her way to Dudley's office, while streaming fountains of tears and mascara poured out of her eyes. She pushed Nicole and some other poor kid out of the way, as she made her way into the hall. Nicole said she had droplets of what looked like tea stains all over her " Cute, But Sassy " shirt. Nicole said that she was "as pissed as pissed could get"...Too fucking funny! Chalk up ten points for the bloated, crampy bitch!

I haven't got all day to chat with you bitches. Look at all those people in my line.



*Saturday*

Yo! Henna called out today! I actually felt bad about the joke I played on her...I felt bad for like 5 minutes and then I reminded myself what a bitch she is. She deserved it. She didn'tend up finishing her shift yesterday, because she went into one of her crying fits and had to leave. Boo fucking hoo! I ended up running the front end for the rest of the afternoon and did a hell of a lot better job, I must admit. Bitch Tits Dudley wants to speak to me today. He wants to know what I know about the tampon incident. He also probably wants to look down my shirt. I'm supposed to go into his office at noon. Fuck him. If he gives me any shit, I'm going to ask for union representation and fuck up his day. That's what you do if you're guilty and about to get interviewed. Always ask for a union rep to stand by you while you're being questioned. The managers usually back off when the union starts fucking with them. They don't have anything on me.



*Sunday*

Mr Dudley never called me into the office, so I went home at my usual time yesterday. I wonder what they know. I don't mind telling you beyotches that I'm a little nervous over this whole fucking thing. I'm not feeling guilty over fucking with Henna, but I do need my job. Henna thinks it's me without a doubt. Fuck her. Someone started a rumor around the breakroom that Nicole was the one responsible, since she was walking in when Henna found the tampon. Well, whatever. Bitch Tits Dudley can go sit on his butt plug. I ain't cracking. I'll make you bitches proud of me yet!



*Monday*

I'm off today!

In other news, the Hispanic guy who always asks me out came to my line yesterday and waited 23 people back and about a half an hour to buy a Mr.Goodbar and tell me that I had nice eyes. Keep trying, pal! Your overpowering BO stench, yellow smile and that fucking Members Only Jacket get me so hot, I'm ready to drop my panties for you any day now.



*Tuesday*

Fuck! I'm not punched in for 20 seconds when I'm summoned upstairs to Dudley's office. I walk in and instead of Dudley, there's big titted Billy-Jo and "ol stain crotch" himself, Lp Specialist, Joe Rebello sitting there. Here's what happened, bitches: Rebello: Hi, we won't be long, I just have a few questions on an incident that occurred in the store a couple of days ago.

Me: Ok. (Looking at that fucking crotch stain)

Rebello: It seems that Henna was in the ladies room while on break and when she returned someone had placed a feminine sanitary item inside her mug of tea.

Me: (Trying to hold in laughter) That's terrible. (Laughs) I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh.

Rebello: This isn't really a laughing matter. Sexual harrassment of another employee is grounds for dismissal.

Me: (Still laughing) I laugh when I'm nervous. I apologize. (Laughs some more) Really, I'm sorry.

Rebello: Ok, from what I understand, you asked to leave your cash register to go to the ladies room around the time the incident happened. Is this true?

Me: I don't remember. It was busy that day.

Rebello: Do you remember being in the lounge around 3 o' clock?

Me: Really, I don't remember. Maybe.

Rebello: Think for me.... Me: Ok, I guess. I know I had to pee in the afternoon and asked to go to the bathroom. But when I went into the lounge on the way to the bathroom, there was a stink in there. I knew Henna was in there. It always stinks when Henna is in the ladies room. That girl has some nasty bowels.

At this point Billy-Jo breaks down laughing and Rebello turns around and givers her a nasty ass look. Then I look at Billy-Jo and we both start laughing.

Rebello: Ladies, can we please control ourselves? So you didn't end up going into the bathroom?

Me: (Still laughing) Not /that/ bathroom! Not with ol' Henna in there. Sorry, but that's one nasty stank coming from that woman. I ended up leaving the area and using the customer's ladies room instead

Rebello: Was there anyone else in the lounge?

Me: I don't remember. The smell in there was pretty intense. I had to get out quick.

Now, at this point, Billy-Jo is ready to piss herself laughing. I swear she's about ready to bust those fake melons open, she's laughing so hard! Her face is turning purple and tears are streaming down her face. I start laughing again and fucking "crotch stain" is getting fucking pissed off.

Rebello: LADIES, PLEASE! Please calm down. I just have a couple of more questions.

Me: Ok, ok,ok, I'm ok now.....

Rebello: May I ask you what kind of feminine protection you use?

Me: Excuse me?

Rebello: I know this is a bit embarrassing, but it's very important to this investigation.

Me: You call me in here and ask me what kind of blood blockers I use? Are you out of your fucking mind?

Rebello: Please, watch you language and answer the question.

Me: I tell you what. I don't use tampons, Mr Lp Man. I use pads. Big, fucking, fluffy white, 100% cotton, made in the good ol' USA, PADS! They stay on with tape. I guess you'd call it twat tape. I don't use tampons. Tampons are for bitches. Tampons are for women who have sex on a regular basis. I can't fit a fucking tampon up there, Mr. Loss Prevention. There's no room. It's too tight a fit. I HAVE TO USE FUCKING PADS. Are you implying I may be a whore? Now that you've embarrassed the fucking shit out of me, I'm going to get up and find the union steward and file a complaint against you and your department. And then I'm going to go home, call my lawyer and consider finding other employment, unless you want to try and stick a finger or 3 up there and find out if I could get a tampon in, before I leave?

Rebello: (Looking extremely nervous) You've taken everything out of context. Please sit down and let's discuss this.

Me: (On my way out of the door) Discuss, this, bitch. I'll have your fat ass on the 6 o' clock fucking news. Good bye! Oh yeah, buy a new fucking pair of Dockers, will you, Joe? That crotch stain thing is getting on everyone's fucking nerves. Have a good night, Billy-Jo.





*Wednesday-Monday*

VACATION DAYS, BITCHES. DON'T YOU THINK I DESERVE A BREAK?



*Tuesday*

What a time to come back to work. This place is fucking mobbed. As soon as I walked in the door, there's Bitch Tits Dudley telling me to "punch in, honey...we're busy!" Thanks for the heads up, Bitch Tits. Like I couldn't figure out with the 3,000 white trashers trolling about down the frozen foods aisle and having to park my car halfway across town that we were busy.

In fact, I'm too busy to update this diary for now, bitches. Why be a total bitch around the holidays? I'll see you all after the new year! Be good, bitches!

Sorry I haven't been around, bitches. I haven't been on the schedule much at work. Henna's been doing the schedules while Billy Jo is on vacation and she's taking the opportunity to fuck me on my hours. At least I've got a Sunday this week. I could use the time and a half until I meet a meet a handosme millionaire in my line who wants to marry me and carries me out of the market like that scene in Officer and a Gentleman. Ahhhh, who the hell am I kidding? The best I'm gonna do today is to see the sweaty Hispanic dude. Everytime he smiles at me with those crusty green teeth of his, I throw up in my mouth a little.

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