You're an Idiot!!!

Mind One.
I get told that my I.Q. is below avergae on a daily basis, by Dairy Queen customers. They feel the need to state the obvious at me, every customer, every day. Yes, dear customer, I am aware that I do in fact work at a dairy queen, and that it is expected to have ice cream at Dairy Queen, sometimes we get a new machine and have to switch things over. This means that we will in fact, be taking out ye ole creame de ice machine, and be in fact, inserting a new one. Weird. We must be sooo stooopid. (I spelled stupid incorrectly on purpose, because that's how you wonderful people verbalize it.) On the off chance that you, dear reader, are a dairy queen employee, skip this part, if you are not, read on suckah!!!
Making blizzards is fun, mainly because you get to operate a high powered blender thing, with your foot!!! YESSSSS!!!!!!!!!! It is less fun when you have an ice cream machine that thinks it would be fun to continuously switch between ice cream roughly consistent with baby diarrhea, and cement. It is rather impossible to make a blizzard that stands being flipped over, when the ice cream is baby diarrhea-esque. It is equally impossible to decently mix the components all throughout the blizzard when the ice cream is cement like. So my boss decides that now is the time! Now is the time to upgrade! To the magic ice cream 2000!!! (In all honesty I have no idea what our machine is, its just fancy. Lots of buttons and handles, and things I'm not allowed to touch) We will rise up! And get a new machine!!! Hell. Yeah!
One problem. The delivery guys, were late. So when we, the good people of the Dairy Queen, have ripped out our old machine, and have NO ICE CREAM, they aren't here yet. That awkward moment where the Dairy Queen is out of Ice Cream. Honestly. So all day long, waiting for the delivery guy, I had to tell people, that we are a Dairy Queen, with no. freaking. ice. cream. Son of a bitch.
Let me show you a conversation. (in parentheses, is what I wanted to say)
M1: Hi welcome to dairy queen! What can I do for you?
Lady: I want a blizzard!!! (Notice how she doesn't say hello back, or good day, or even screw you. Just starts demanding shit. Bitch)
M1: I'm sorry ma'am, we are in the process of switching ice cream machines, and we are temporarily out of ice cream.
Lady: You are a Dairy Queen. (REALLYYYYYY?????????????????????? no....)
M1: Yes ma'am, I know. We realize this is odd, but we appreciate your understanding.
Lady: No. Make me a blizzard. That's what I ordered. (I heard you, and you spit in my face. Ya nasty.)
M1:...Ma'am, we have no ice cream. I cannot just sell you the topping in a cup.
Lady: You have dilly bars. Those are made of ice cream. (Seriously? I thought we made them with fat free bull shit.)
M1: Those are premade.
Lady: I'm not a moron, use the damn dilly bars, to make my blizzard. Scrape them off the stick or something. (Oh yes, because the boss would love that.)
M1: Ma'am I can't.
Lady: Well you're a freaking moron. The customer is always right, now service me. (Whoa, that sounds vaugely sexual.)
M1: I don't mean to be rude, but it is not within my power to control when we switch ice cream machines.
Lady: Go to hell. (I'm already there, I have the work shirt to prove it.)
M1: Would you like fries with that? (Damn, I'm clever.)

Mind Two:
While I sympathize with Mind One, I am laughing hysterically at this conversation.
But whoever said the customer is always right, never met the customer. And I work at a local coffee shop, so we only get customers that I know or who know me. So I don't really have any stories like this. But, I think I can pretty much sum up how Mind One was feeling. With pictures!



"The customer is always right"


What the lady was like:


And what Mind One was like:




"I want a blizzard!!"




And when she finally left,


and

Adam Levine

Mind one. (This post needs a rating, small childern stay out.)

Mind Two sidenote:
I thought you should know that Mind One is a X-rated Mary Poppins, so that should give you a good rating on this post.

Mind one.
Alright. I was going through our stats again. I know I know, I have a problem. But here is the bigger problem. This nifty little box tells us what google keywords had been used to find our blog, and the like, next to last keyword search, was "Adam Levine's Penis."

Ferreal guys? You can't just type whatever tickles your pickle into google search and think that you will be the only one to know about it. Obviously, I'm not an internet hacker or anything, but now I know that someone in the world, wants his penis. This is nothing new, every straight woman with a half of a brain wants it. Thats not my point, my point is, that you were so lonely and bored, you actually tried to google it. Adam Levine is not Pete Wentz, and much as I love Pete, he did in fact post his penis, (Petis. Haaa!!) on the internet. Adam did not. So lets calm down, you ball of raging hormones, and look at normal porn if its really that big of a deal. You'll probably see Christina Agu-howeverthehellyouspellit. Thats not a picture, video, or anything I ever wanna see.

By the way, exactly how many pages of google search results did you have to go through to find this blog. That is desperate my friend, desperate indeed. Disclaimer. Ceptionillionares does not posses a picture of Adam Levine's "No no square", and even if we did, it wouldn't go on the blog, we want the viewers to actually read to posts, not beat off. (Its bad for the keyboards and other electronics.)

Also, another keyword search. "Baby corn makes me feel like a giant." Once again, why in the holy hell where you even searching for this. What kind of sick freak are you? Do you get off on being bigger than a midget aborted corn fetus? Cause I have news for you, if you are truly that desperate, and feel that you must show your size dominion over ever little object, its likely you have a "little object" yourself. Is that what flicks your bean??  I'm sorry, that was vastly inappropriate. Whatever makes you feel nice. (Once again, not on the keyboard.)

There was also something about a three way. What the hell people. This blog does not even mention threeways. Until this post, but you made me do it. Its not my fault. So. Now there is a reason for "Three way" searches to toss up this blog. On like, the thirty first page of google searches. Or the sixty ninth. HA!

(I didn't think this post was going to be so perverted when I started it. Sorry.)

(Not so much.)

Mind Two:
I am not entirely sure I can top this or add anything that makes it anymore significant. But I will sum it up for you:
Don't ever do anything on the internet you don't want other people finding out about because even if you live in Marituas or wheretehheckinstan, we will know. Wonder Woman and Batgirl will know.
Also, homecoming is coming up and the theme is superheroes!! Guess who Mind One and Two are going as? (If you can't guess this, read some older posts and stop being a slacker.) I promise you we will post pictures because it will be EPIC!

Frined, sometimes typos are great...

Mind one.
I have a best frined. We have been best friends since I was three and she was two. Not counting middle school when she randomly hated me. But we wont talk about that. Anyways, last year she finally realized that I wasn't Satan, and decided we could be friends again. Smart move there. In any case, she invited me over to her house, to try and become friends again. First thing I say when I walk into her room. "Why do you have Hitler on your wall?" It wasn't Hitler, it was her dad, from when he was in the Army. He has a twisted sense of humor, kind of like mine, and shaved a Hitler-stache on his face. That was a less than great start to the friendship.

We got over the Nazi moment though, and quickly became tight friends again, and eventually best friends. Now I wanted to celebrate this friendships revival, so I took one of the pictures we had taken together, and edited it on facebook so it said "Best Friends" or so I thought.

Direct quote from Frined.
"Thats really sweet, but what the hell's a frined?"
Well. Awkward. I try to do something nice. And she turns into a grammar Nazi. >:/ Wow!! Thanks dude!!!

Now it's become an inside joke, and we get offended when the other slips up and uses friend. We are not friends. We are FRINEDS HEAR US ROAR. And by roar I mean make creepy old people noises and scream "DRY BONES NO!!!!" at the top of our teenage lungs.

Seriously, we shouldn't be allowed to be left alone, do you have any idea the shennagians we get into? (You have no idea the fit spell check had over this post.)

Side note. Sorry its been so long since we posted. Mind one's been roaming around, and hasn't had steady access to a computer. Anyways. Expect a flood of posts over the next couple days!!! Mind one out. Biiiiitches!