Whitney The Thief.

I am not your typical girly girl. 

Yes I love new clothes and a perfect outfit but, as previously explicated in Why I'm Banned From E-bay, I do not enjoy traditional shopping. 

Stores hurt my feet, wallet and - most recently - my pride. 

The universe, and all of the stores in my area, have decided I am a thief. 

The universe has no basis for these grounds - I haven't stolen anything since I accidentally took a purple bracelet from a garage sale in the third grade. That time my mom drove me clear across town to return the bracelet or pay the 25 cents.

I used a piece of my father's silver collection as a quarter and paid for the bracelet...

but that's another story. 

Since that experience I haven't stolen a thing - other than food from my friends and family - yet I've been a presumed shoplifter four times in the last 2 weeks. 

For some reason I've been setting off store security systems on my way in and out of stores.

So far I've set off alarms in: 

Kohls

Ross

TJ Maxx and 

Smiths Marketplace 

... which is probably because those are the only stores I shop at. 

2 out of 4 of the store experiences went like this: 

Each time I set off the alarms the entire store turns my way, employees skeptically eye my bags and twice I've had to verify the contents of my purse and purchases.

I've searched my purse - there is no security tag left on the seams. 

I've been wearing different outfits each time I've beeped - I have no metal plates, pins or other metal hardware inside my body (that I know of).

Theories have been postulated which include:

A) My recent dental work has become electromagnetic due to the massive amount of microwave food I consume. 

B) I'm the victim of a terrible practical joke in which i've been surgically implanted with a secret security tag. 

C) My cell phone is lonely due to my lack of friends and subsequent lack of texts - so it talks to the sensors. 

All three are viable options.

But in all seriousness - If you know what's happening to me PLEASE tell me in the comments because it's becoming a problem. And I like comments. 

Up until today only inanimate objects have deemed me a criminal - that changed. 

I went shopping with the woman (my mom) today. 

We went to a few stores - set off a few alarms - and ended up at Sam's Club. 

Usually I like Sam's club - today I did not like Sam's club. 

They have a ridiculous receipt checking policy in which minimum wage workers "check" your receipt against your cart contents before you're allowed to leave the store. 

Many times I've gone through the sensors with friends or family and only shown one receipt for the groceries of two people.

 It's never been noticed. 

Today we got in line to exit to the store and have our merchandise "checked" against our receipt. 

As we're leaving, my mom decides she wants boxes. 

Sam's Club offers the left over boxes from inventory to customers to facilitate easy transfer of purchased items since they do not provide grocery bags.

I had a box of instant breakfast packets (which I purchased) under my arm so it wouldn't crush the bread on the top of the cart. 

I went back in the store to retrieve boxes. 

Only my mother's receipt was "checked' since mine was in my pocket.

All of the groceries (except my breakfast packets) went out. 

Behind my mother in the exit line was elderly couple. 

Apparently today's checker knew this elderly couple - they stopped to chat. 

As they chatted, the line grew longer and longer. 

As I stood there awkwardly juggling my breakfast packets and three haphazardly stacked boxes I noticed the "enter" door directly adjacent to the "exit" door was line free and staffed by one idle worker. 

Since I had no cart or receipt in clear view - only my boxes - I decided to try and exit through the enter door. 

This is not allowed.

She said no. 

I thought if I explained myself - that my purchases were already out of the store and I wouldn't steal a package of breakfast packets were I in the habit of pulling heists - she would understand. 

I fished my receipt - with an armful of boxes mind you - out of my back pocket to show her. 

She budged zero amount. 

She also smiled zero amount. 

By this time the other redhead - apparently Sam's Club likes to hire red headed door checkers - had engaged in a full fledged  4 minute long conversation with her elderly friends. 

4 minutes may not seem very long but when you're standing in a line to exit a store you don't want to be at in the first place - 4 minutes is an eternity. 

The line to exit the store was at least 15 carts deep and reached the cash registers 40 feet down the isle. This was getting ridiculous.  

And there was no way I was going to the back of that line. 

I figured I'd give it one last attempt - surely this "enter" employee could dual perform and double check my receipt for the one item I did have with me - my instant breakfast packets. 

Also a no. 

Tera does not check receipts. 

So I returned to my former place in line. 

The "Enter" redhead - her name is Tera (name not changed since she was a grumpy - take that Tera) threw me a dirty look when I retook my place behind the talkative elderly couple rather than trudge back 50 feet. 

Tera finally realized the line was getting exceedingly long and decided her job description did include receipt checking after all. 

She walked over to the man directly behind me, checked his receipt and allowed him to leave the store. 

Right about this time the lessons learned in AP government and the voice of my liberal, highly political uncle Steve invaded my head. 

I felt an illogical  and misplaced surge of patriotism and decided I would defy the receipt checkers.

This was the land of the free by golly and I was going to be free!  

Yes. Yes they do that. 

Next thing I knew I was being chased and verbally accosted by my new friend Tera. 

But there was no stopping me. 

I was going to refuse checking on moral grounds now - on patriotic principle! 

I was a receipt withholding American citizen with the freedom to leave Sam's however I please. 

She really yelled for Back-up. I thought that was just something people did in movies and dramatic cop dramas - I've now learned it's a part of the Sam's Club employee handbook. 

By the way - remember the 15 cart line up? 

Yup, still there and enjoying the spectacle. 

Now remember how I told her to "try and stop me"? 

I assumed her attempts to stop me would be rhetoric based.... 

They were not. 

Tera lunged at/around me in order to apprehend me - the probable breakfast burglar. 

I don't remember her actually touching me so much as the boxes I was precariously balancing - but whatever she did was effective. 

I went down. 

She moved surprisingly fast considering her body type. 

She was back up by the time "back-up" arrived. 

Then she tattled on me like a little girl. 

The "Back-up" was great big huge. 

I can see why they chose him to be "Back-up"

 He picked up my receipt and looked it over - glancing between my long "unmarked" receipt and the pile of empty boxes on the floor.

I belligerently stood up, gathered my boxed and stood right in front of him, just to see what the giant back-up would do.  

I tried to show him my fury with my eyes. 

He didn't seem to notice. He just gave me back my receipt and let me go. 

But I didn't go. 

Instead I walked out the door to my mother waiting in the car, dropped the boxes and my breakfast packets and marched right back in the door. 

I stormed over to the service desk and demanded to see a manager, because I was angry. 

The longer I waited, however, the less hard and angry I became. 

Instead all of those angry emotions turned to sad emotions - probably because I'm an estrogen infused sissy at heart. By the time the manager got there I was crying in the tire section. 

My eloquent and thought out polemic wouldn't come out of my bumbling quivering mouth - instead I just spouted my callow grievances and told them "Tera was mean to me".  

I'm pretty sure nothing was done about it. I just stormed out in tears and got in my mom's car. 

And, to add insult to injury, I forgot to pick up my pictures. 

I can't even boycott Sam's Club for a whole week.

And stores still think I'm a thief. 

Feel sad for me. 

The End. 

A Bird in the House!

It was an ordinary day at the Fuller house. 

(...Not my real last name. My mom has qualms about sharing "real" personal information on the internet. First names, however, are the same. Usually. )

7:45 a.m. 

Mom had already run 8 miles, showered, dried her hair, woken up the boys for the first time, applied her makeup, started breakfast, woken up my brothers for the SECOND time and ended up in the laundry room to start the FIRST load of laundry for the day. 

Since she was baking a particularly fragrant breakfast she had opened the windows and doors to the kitchen to allow for a breeze before retreating to the laundry room.

In case you can't tell - my mom is kind of like wonder woman.

After their second wake up call, my two brothers still living at home came trudging down the stairs to await their homemade breakfast.  

If you've ever teenage boys come down the stairs for breakfast you know how pathetic this scene is. 

Rylan, the youngest of the brothers, has an unhealthy obsession with his "6-pack when he lays down." This obsession, and the fact that he considers himself quite sexy, leave him frequently lounging about in nothing more than his boxers. 

Thank goodness he doesn't prefer briefs. 

His inability to clothe himself regularly is a common source of conflict at the Fuller house. 

This morning was no different than any other - Rylan descended the stairs shirtless. 

An unfortunate choice given the impending events.

So... heavy-eyed, sluggish and, in Rylan's case, almost naked, the two lumbered down. 

Had they been fully awake and cognitively functional they would have seen this:

Instead the scene was ignored until something, nippy air on his shirtless body I presume, pried Rylan's eyes all the way open. 

He reacted loudly. 

This scared the bird. 

Cory, in turn, reacted loudly. 

They were both fully awake at this point. 

Rylan moved to safety. 

Then they called for a big strong protector:

My mom, who had been dutifully laundering the clothing in the other room, came out to see what the ruckus was all about. 

She found out quite quickly. 

Rylan and mom set about defending the home from the rogue bird, grabbing the first item that could be used for weaponry and considering themselves armed. 

They were out for bird blood. 

8:10

I happen to live across the street from my parents. At 8 A.M. I was up and attempting to cook my own breakfast.

 I was all set up and ready to make some delicious french toast when I realized I had no eggs. 

Since I conveniently live 15 yards from my mother's house - and I often treat her pantry as a grocery store anyway - I started out to procure eggs for the soon to be delicious french toast. 

The doors were open, so I didn't knock. 

I rounded the corner from the Hallway to the kitchen with a cheerful greeting:

This is what I saw:
Cory was screaming like a little princess.

It was not a typical morning. 

I was not about to miss out on this opportunity so I suited up too, arming myself with a nearby LaCross stick. 

The next 20 minutes went something like this: 

So we decided to trap him in the laundry room. 

The three of us herded him towards the door with our loud voice and vicious weapons. 

It worked. 

There happens to be a door leading outdoors in the laundry room. 

We sent the shirtless wonder in to open it up, without letting the bird back into the main house of course, and hoped the bird would fly out on his own. 

We left Mr. Bird alone for about 30 minutes. 

Cory re-surfaced during that time and brought our little sister with him. 

And then there were 5. 

9:00 A.M.

There were window banging sounds and wing flapping wind swooshes coming from the other side of the laundry room door. 

It was obvious the bird was not bright enough to find his own way out of the wide open porch door. 

 An idea was hatched. 

Birds don't like loud noises.

Dogs bark very loudly. 

Birds also do not like Dogs. 

Birds flee from Dogs.

We should get the dogs to chase the bird out. 

Cory disappeared to hatch his own plan. 

This is Duke. 

Duke is a mut. His mom is a lab and his dad was a neighborly Blue Heeler. 

Originally Duke was a normal sized labrador looking dog. 

He has since developed an appetite for everything - edible and otherwise. 

He eats the cat's food, his food, his friend Mogli's food and various things he steals out of the trash can daily.

He is a fat Duke. 

He's so fat, in fact, he makes a pyramid shape when he sits. 

He's so fat we literally cannot put a collar on him because his neck is significantly thicker than his head. 

Don't think we are terrible pet owners - we have tried many times to put Duke on a diet, but he will honestly eat ANYTHING. 

Moral of this side story - Duke is fat. Duke eats everything. 

Anyway - we called Duke in to scare the bird out of the laundry room. 

Initially, it was almost working. 

Instead of scaring the bird out the door, Duke just scared it into the opposite corner of the room.

Obviously Duke just needed to be on the other side of the bird, so it could scare it into the OTHER corner. The Corner with the door in it. 

So Rylan helped Duke out.

He lifted Duke up to get the bird out of the corner. 

It worked. 

Not exactly the way we had intended it to though... 

Duke ate the bird. 

We tried to Cover Brooky's eyes but it was too late. She saw the whole thing. 

Then Cory re-emerged, right after the action. 

He had a good idea. 

Too late.