Tag Archives: peevery

The Best Medicine

Sometimes you just gotta laugh, amirite? More times than not really. Otterwise you just spend your life perpetually enraged and that’s no good for the old BP. It can be a struggle though, especially when you’re dealing with one of the giant mega corp chatbot clusters:

Me: I have an account but can’t seem to log in.
Them: I see you’re using Chrome. Have you tried using another browser?
Me: I don’t want to try another browser.
Them: OK. What’s your account number?
Me: [pastes it in from last auto-billing email notification]
Me: I have an auto-reject message saying it looks like a credit card number and won’t send.
Them: Oh, sorry. You’ll have to break it in half.
Me: {whaaa?}
Me: [does that]
Them: Thanks!
Me: K
Them: The problem is you don’t have an online account with us.
Me: Then how have I been auto-paying my bill all these years?
Them: …
Me: All I wanted to do was log in so I can see my options since my bill has increased and it seems ridiculous to pay $75 per month for just internet.
Them: Understandable! Would you like to switch to a package deal?
Me: Well, I’d like to see what’s available. Do you know why my price went up?
Them: Can you open your January bill?
Me: Apparently not. I can’t log in, which is why I began the chat.
Them: You were upgraded to extreme internet!
Me: I don’t need extreme internet. Can I return to normal internet?
Them: No. We only have extreme now, unless you buy a package.
Me: …
Them: Has your issue been resolved satisfactorily?
Me: Not really. I still can’t log in.
Them: Let me get an account specialist.
Me: Great.
A Different Them: Hello! I hear you need to create a new account! I can help you!
Me: {whaaa?}
Them: Are you still there?
Me: Yes. I think I have an account, since I’ve been auto-paying my bill online for years.
Them: Can you log in?
Me: No. My credentials don’t work.
Them: I suggest making a new account. I can walk you through the steps!
Me: {%*#&@*$&}
Them: Here is a link to get started!
Me: [clicks link, makes account]
Them: Are you having success?
Me: It says I can’t use my email as my username, since that account already exists, as I told you.
Them: …
Me: Never mind. I’ll use another name.
Them: How’s it going?
Me: I’m done.
Them: Has your issue been resolved satisfactorily?
Me: Yes.
Them: Please take this survey.
Me: [rates them high because who cares and they were polite]
Me: [checks out the package deal options in my ZIP code only to discover there aren’t any and I will have to continue paying $75/month for extreme internet, wotever that even is, probably some stupid thing for people who watch 17 TV’s at once and play Dragonpr0n Ap0calypse]
Me: [takes valium and laughs]

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The End.

~*~

The Daily Prompt: Laughter

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Don’t Believe Everything You Read

Especially here. Remember back in the day when I was jabbering on about how much I lurve That Girl? Like last week? Well, I’ve changed my mind. Sunday I wrote a bunch in the morning and then took a little break, which turned into a 12-hour TG binge. At first, I still enjoyed the eps, especially the ones with guest stars, such as “Compudate,” which featured Rich Little doing impressions. I adore him and lost respect for Ann when she didn’t dump Don for Rich. Wtf? Ridiculous. Don’s a total bore. The more I watched the more convinced of this I became. What did she even see in him? He is totally dull. The British photog dude is also way more fun than Don, but nope. I guess it must be this opposites thing ~ sparkling butterfly needs a lump of mashed potatoes for a partner so she can make sure she’s always the center of attention. If she had gone with Rich, he might have grabbed some of the spotlight for himself. That’s fine for her, but what about us, the audience? After almost two full seasons, I’m really tired of Mr. Boring.

But that’s not even the main thing. There’s something about TG that’s really started to bug me. Several somethings.

1. The show takes place in NYC and everyone is white. There’s nothing but white people everywhere. White people celebrating generic white Christian holidays. No matter where Ann goes in the city, she never encounters anyone or anything but this. Amazing!

2. The city is freakishly clean.

3. Ann wants a career and left her small town to be independent, which seemed refreshing at first, but it’s not this way at all. She’s still emotionally yoked to her parents 24/7, especially to her father, and she calls him Daddy constantly, which is as irritating as her “Oh Donalds.” Daddy pops into her apartment whenever because he has “business in the city,” though he’s allegedly running a restaurant two hours away in the small town, and he has zero respect for her privacy. Ann is obsessed with his opinion regarding everything she does, whether it’s cooking a turkey or wearing dangling earrings, and it’s disgusting.

4. I’ve seen several eps now where Ann gets into dicey situations involving some creepy older man coming onto her and she wriggles out of it with her silly, spunky personality. If at any point she is actually physically touched, the scene is interrupted by Mr. Boring lumping in. Even when Don punches some otter guy in the face, he manages to be dull about it and hurt his widdle paw. The point is, nothing bad ever really happens to Ann, since she’s a “good girl.” This is the message we always have received.

5. Even worse, both Donald and Ann say “terrific” every freaking minute and it drives me up the wall. Of all the things, this started to turn me off the most Sunday night until I began dreading any positive announcement, since it would always be followed up with the inevitable. Why didn’t anyone buy these writers a thesaurus?!

Yes, I praised the writers earlier, so I’m blaming them now. Live by, die by. Goodbye, That Girl.

*

Of course I realize this was back then ~ I don’t care. I’m criticizing it now anyway, just like I did IDOJ.

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Diamonds, Daisies, Snowflakes…

That Girl!

That Girl

I can’t believe no one guessed the correct answer. Some of you got close with MTM, etc. ~ shows about single brunettes navigating big city life. But alas, nobody got That Girl. I’ve been enjoying reruns on Prime and am just starting the second season. A good friend bought S5 for me as a gift and watching some of those motivated me to start over at the beginning. Okay, let’s discuss…

First, we’ll address the theme song (music only until S5 when lyrics are introduced), which I see via google is not super popular. I guess people hate happy, sappy lists. Does this mean “My Favorite Things” from The Sound of Music is hated now too? Bye cream-colored ponies, off you go. We’re tossing the crisp apple strudel right in the trash. What the hell is wrong with lists of nice things? Does every piece of music have to be dark and dystopian with singularity death robots clawing out our livers? Eff that. We can haz nice lists.

Second, That Girl is a nice show about nice people, who mostly do nice things and end up getting into mild predicaments. So, you’re thinking omgawwwd boring. No. You know what I’m bored with? Criminals, jerks, liars, druggies, drunks, narcissists, wackos, and psychopaths. But enough about men from dating sites already, eh? Pffft.

Sometimes it’s just darned good fun to watch a show about normal people negotiating the quotidian. Kind of like Seinfeld, in a way… many of TG’s eps are also about “nothing” or nothing more than the minutiae of daily life gone awry via misunderstandings or miscommunications. This was prior to texting and email, so people have to talk to each other face to face to work things out. This generally resolves an issue quickly rather than our current method of trying to “text it out,” which further mires us in the muck of miscomm. Yes, I realize it’s fictional. 😛

Third, there’s a refreshing absence of sex, drugs, and violence. I’m no prude, but I’m just tired of the emphasis on those three things in entertainment. Once they’re introduced, they tend to dominate the script. Ann and Don are steadily dating, but we haven’t seen them in bed. Good. I don’t want to; it’s uninteresting to me. In one of these early eps, they wade in a stream while picnicking and she remarks that it’s the first time she’s seen his ankles. Why? Because they haven’t slept together or cuz he has sex in his socks or what? The questions crossed my mind, briefly, and I’m happy not to know. There’s a mafia ep where the bad guys end up in a food fight then a fist fight but not a gun fight and it’s hilarious. Etc.

Fourth, surprisingly, these old TG eps offer many situations that are still currently relevant. How to maintain a close relationship with your parents when you move away and choose a different lifestyle. Can you conduct a professional relationship in the same office with someone with whom you’re romantically involved? The struggle of pursuing your low-paying dream while juggling two or more side gigs to make the rent. Etc.

Plus Marlo Thomas is funny. So are Ted Bessell, who plays her boyfriend, and Lew Parker, who plays her father. But many actors could have done these roles, imo, including Marlo’s. This is not to disparage the actors, who are certainly fine, but the writers should get the credit for the show. Always credit the writers! Check out that link… interesting.

K, I’m off for more teevee! 🙂

A Glimmer Is Not Enough

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I’ve been doing more deleting, my peeps. Facebook, Messenger, and Instagram were the big ones, but that was just the beginning of my webhousecleaning.

Actually, that’s not true. I began this back when I dumped all the dating sites for good in 2017. And I’ll tell you something: I do not miss them one bit, nor do I miss dating. It’s the most stressful thing in the world, not fun at all, and I’m sleeping so much better since I quit. Turns out, I do not have insomnia! I had dating-related anxiety. I sleep through the night just fine almost every night now just like back in the old days before I began any of it. Anyway, last month was FB & Co.’s turn to get the heave-ho. But what about the other sites?

I had a Meetup account since 2011 and over the years joined various groups ~ Scrabble, writing, walking, board games, etc.  But my favorite writing group never meets at a time that’s convenient for me now. New groups that sound interesting are always too far away or some other annoying thing. The rest of the groups are too sportsy or too young or too costly or too dating-related or whatever. Every week or so I look in with the glimmer of hope there will be something fun and nopety nope nope. Waste of time. Isn’t my new motto to quit wasting time on things that aren’t productive, healthy, or fun? Yes, I believe it is. A glimmer is not enough to justify time wastery. Meetup account DELETED.

Deleted some Yahoo groups for the same reason and quit getting email notifs from a few otter ones. Why spend time reading things that are of no value? That’s time wastery. For some of that stuff, there isn’t even a glimmer of a chance anything interesting is going to come of it. It’s barely one step above actual SPAM. People I don’t know jabbering about things I don’t care about. WTF am I reading this? Habit, a bad one.

And then I figured that it’s just Not Good to have random idle accounts sitting around “out there” due to nasty hackers, evil Russians, alien pods, and whatnot. So I went on a spree, whacking accounts like DISQUS, Quora, Ello, and various otter sillinesses that I don’t even use or waste time on but don’t need to have my name associated with either. Paranoia, it’s what’s for dinner. You guys forgot about Ello, dincha? 🙂

I’m debating Goodreads. On the one hand, it hardly takes up any time, so it doesn’t count as a waste of same. On the otter hand, I find it vaguely irritating. First it doesn’t let me delete my own books. I have unpublished a few (couple short stories I decided I don’t want as stand-alones, wish to edit them, and then have them as part of my book of longer, connected short stories I hope to have out by the end of this year). So, if you click on the links, they don’t exist. Of course this drives me bonkers. Why can’t I delete them from my bio there? That’s one thing. Second, GR makes me feel compelled to finish a book even when it’s bad so I can have that book added to my book count. Okay, that’s not Goodreads’ fault; that’s my OCD again. Regardless, that’s how it is and being on the site creates this issue. But perhaps this isn’t a bad thing? At least once recently I ended up enjoying a book I wouldn’t have finished otterwise. So, hmm.

Guess I’ll leave GR for meow, but they’re on the watchlist. I’m sure they’re terrified.

~*~

The Daily Prompt: Glimmer

In Which I Beg a Big Corporation to Take My Money

When I deleted Facebook, Messenger, and Instagram, I wiped all the history, cookies, etc. off my devices in an attempt (probably futile) to rid myself of their tracking and crap. Until yesterday this was no big deal, but then I tried to buy a song for my Nutty Playlist on iTunes and all hell broke loose. I had to re-enter my info and every time I tried to put in my credit card stuffs, the program shut down. Fine, I said, I have an iPhone meow, I’ll do it that way. NYAAH!

I went to Apple music on my iPhone and said hai can I haz a song? They said only if you sign up for our music thingie and pay. WOT? I don’t want to pay for a whole program ~ I just want to buy a song sometimes like I do for my cool themed playlists. They didn’t care at all about my cool themed playlists. Rude. I didn’t know what to do except I did know I was going to get what I wanted and finish my Nutty Playlist and put it on a CD to listen to in my car because well I just had to! They shalt not thwart me and my OCD! (Especially when a CD is involved.)

I went to Shazam on my iPhone where I remembered it offers the option to buy a song. First, I had to play the song on YouTube on my laptop so I could Shazam it (it was “Angie Baby” by Helen Reddy, if you must know, which no one suggested, but I chose later after googling songs about insanity which I do not recommend because it can really flip you over the edge into severe depression). After the song was up on Shazam, the buy option appeared, so I clicked it. Next, I was flooped over to the iTunes store where it let me buy the song with my fingerprint. WOT? I didn’t have to sign up for the program? Nope. I could buy “Angie Baby” for $1.29 like I had wanted to in the beginning. I did that. I also bought a couple more songs for Nutty and also some for another playlist that had been sitting around called Dating Sucks. Burned them to CDs. Now I have two new CDs and am working on two more themed playlists. I’ll pester you guys about those later.

The coolest part is that it only took a few seconds for the song to show up in my iTunes library on my laptop after I bought it on my phone. Isn’t technology AMAZING?! Actually, one of them took like 45 seconds and I started to get angry. WTF??? The otter ones only took 10 seconds. I can’t bear all this waiting. I have things to do! OMGGG!!

I still don’t understand why Apple allows you to buy an individual song via Shazam but you can’t simply click into the Apple store on your own and buy one. That’s so weird! More likely I’m misunderstanding how to do it, but whatever… I got what I wanted. Yes, in a very roundabout strange way, but hey.

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~*~

The Daily Prompt: Thwart

Corncobs & Donuts: A Friday Morning Rant

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I was curious today about why some Twitter users had donuts in their profile descriptions, so I began googling up the meaning. I mean, of course donuts are delicious, especially coconut ones and the kind that have little cimmanom crunchy whatsit coatings (never know what you call these donuts ~ I just point at them like a grunty caveperson), but I had a feeling Twitter donuts meant more than this and I was right. Back in my day, when all we thought about was sex, the meaning of a donut would have been sexual, but now everything is political, so naturally donuts are too. I’m not even going to attempt to paraphrase the ridiculousness of the political donut, but simply link to the article I found which essplains the whole insanity. Scroll down, donuts are in there, after the roses and corncobs.

Also, back in the day, roses and corncobs had sexual meanings too. “Roses” stood in for dollars as payment for sex on certain personal ad websites, some of which, notably Craigslist personals, have had to shut down since the passage of FOSTA on March 25th, the anti sex-trafficking bill. Oh, you probably didn’t notice that bill with everything else going on people rage about 24/7, but it will probably end up changing the internet as we know it, making service providers actually liable for content, starting with subjecting websites to criminal and civil liability when third parties misuse personals unlawfully. I agree with this btw, even though probably most of you do not. The liberal media (see previous link) has been crying about how closeted gay & trans peeps, adulterers, and others are losing an important venue to find anon hook-ups. How sad. If only websites had followed their own damn TOS in the first place, including Facebook, these “free speech” catastrophes might have been mitigated somewhat sans gobblement involvement. But they were all too greedy. I digress. You can find the sexual corncob meanings here, after the otter ones.

Why is everything so stupid? Rhetorical. Don’t personsplain at me! It’s part of the reason I left Facebook ~ I keep finding new reasons. Privacy breach/data scraping, too addicting, too political, too irritating, too many memes, people constantly reposting headlines, BORING, and just… stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. RAWR! Sure, all that same stuff is on Twitter, but I can block it all there. I’ve blocked an entire family from my Twitter feed, every one of their names, and it’s marvelous. I do not see any of them. How awesome is that? And I’ve also blocked most of the other SOS politicians and keywords to keep the crap that people obsess over out of my face. When a new story comes up that everyone goes nuts over, I block that too. I occasionally see some politics, a joke, or something that doesn’t mention a person by name ~ what’s funny is that generally those tweets are usually much more interesting than the normal political garbage because someone is expressing an honest opinion, not reposting a link. So, I don’t mind them. But, as I’ve said, I am mainly there for the poetry, which is fab.

I find it amusing that every day the Facebook horror seems to be getting worse. The only thing I regret is not dumping it sooner.

Okay, time for a donut ~ and that is not a euphemism!

Sabrina, 1995

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For some odd reason, I never saw Sabrina (the 1995 version with Harrison Ford) until this weekend, even though Prime constantly recommended it. I generally like Ford, and romcoms, so it’s baffling. Well, turns out I hated it. What a horrible movie! Maybe I had some weird subconscious warning, who knows.

This bloggery will spoil the movie, so if for some inexplicable reason you want to see it, quit reading now and go watch a cute kitty video.

Sabrina begins like a typical romcom with an obscenely wealthy family, two handsome brothers, and one cute daughter of the chauffeur  ~ too young for both of them. Oh, sorry I’m being judgy already. My bad. (But this isn’t an 1890s romcom, it’s set in the 1990s, so I take my apology back.) Sabrina has a crush on the younger brother, David, but goes off to Paris as a Vogue intern (because that happens) yada. While in Paris she learns that David has become engaged to a doctor and she’s heartbroken. Immediately she morphs from a pretty young girl with a fresh face and long hair to a sophisticated vamp with short hair and impeccable style. Why? Dunno. But it seems to be a thing in movies and on TV that women chop off their hair to signal post-heartbreak fortitude.

Sabrina jets home to Long Island, where David doesn’t recognize her and starts his seductive routine until Linus (H. Ford) steps in to put a stop to it. The doctor fiance, you see, isn’t just any gorgeous doctor, but a TYSON, and Linus needs Daddy Tyson for some merger because of an indestructible TV screen. It’s all very complicated and worth a billion dollars. Sabrina and David aren’t dissuaded however, but David sits on some champagne glasses and gets a cut-up butt, so while he’s recovering Linus begins to woo Sabrina. Apparently she’s this brainless, faithless dingbat who can easily transfer her lurve from one brother to another while he’s telling her a series of idiotic lies. Oh, this is my halfway house. This homeless man here I helped when he got out of prison. And Sabrina the Paris sophisticate gobbles it all up. WTF?

Suddenly Linus grows a conscience and decides he can’t do this any longer, right after he bought plane tix for Paris, for himself and Sabrina, where he was planning to ditch her, jet back home, and finish the Tyson deal and see David married to the doc. He confesses to Sabrina that he’s a horrible person, etc. He knows she’s always loved David, and he’s going to transfer his ticket to David’s name so they can go to Paris together and be happy. Sabrina takes her ticket, says goodbye to people, and leaves. David decides that Linus must really love Sabrina to jeopardize a billion dollars, tells him to keep his original ticket, and insists he go after her. David and the doc go on as if nothing happened, and the deal with Daddy Tyson continues unharmed. Linus flies to Paris and reunites with Sabrina, who apparently would have fallen into the arms of whichever brother showed up! Not that anyone actually ever cares how Sabrina feels at any point in this whole freaking mishmash! Except maybe her father, the chauffeur, but he’s satisfied when Linus says that he needs Sabrina, and he’s never needed anything before. Okay then!

So dumb. So enraging. I assume the older version is similar, but I’d have to pay to see it, so no thank you.

Also, I want to talk about the brothers’ mother, Nancy Marchand. Yes, Livia. It’s like she was auditioning for the Sopranos’ part in advance, I swear to God. She is the exact same character and it freaked me out! I could not believe it. I was all, WTF is Livia Soprano doing at this fancy schmancy Long Island party? The same voice, the same tone, the same mannerisms. I expected Uncle Junior to pop in next. When she was lecturing Linus on going too far in wooing Sabrina and said, “I didn’t teach you this,” that was SO LIVIA. I wanted her to say, “Does your Uncle Tony know?” Eeeeeeee!!! She was a bright spot in the movie.

Nancy M. had a long and interesting career.

Number Jumbo

Some of my friends have been discussing aging, the number itself as opposed to general health. In the past, I was more concerned with the actual number ~ a couple birthdays provoked strong reactions. My 45th was particularly upsetting, although I kept those feelings mainly to myself as they had to do with my disintegrating marriage and there was no one I could talk to about it at the time. My parents always tried to be emotionally supportive and I chatted with them a little, but they were of the generation that believed in staying together no matter what (as they did themselves) and that was not the best path for me. My 50th was stressful as well: I thought I was simply physically ill, but I understand now that it was partly psychological too. My divorce was in progress, though tense, and I was in a highly toxic new relationship. Not a good combo.

Then from October 2011 through 2016 , I had to be concerned with age. Why? Because I was on dating sites. There’s no way not to be obsessed with age if you’re “dating while older.” Most DWO men are obsessed with age, a huge percentage of them desiring much younger women while simultaneously lying about their own age, along with whatever else. (If you’re not one of these guys, great!) It’s really difficult to keep a positive attitude when chatting with the next one who comes along. Even if you stroll onto a site perfectly okay with yourself, your age, looks, education, occupation, personality, et cetera, it takes a really strong, confident woman to maintain that mindset in the face of relentless rejection, criticism, gaslighting, trolling, and the general assholishness of men online. I can’t believe I put myself through that BS for five years.

(Remember, if you’re a non-asshole guy, wonderful! No need to tilt against windmills in my comments. I know there are some of you.)

I spent last year detoxing from dating sites. As an added bonus I no longer stress about age, or spend money trying to look younger. Feh! I just realized this today when some friends mentioned their inner 25 year olds. I told my inner 25 year old to hit the road a while ago. Good riddance, silly girl! I’m almost 57 and that’s a perfectly fine age to be. I’m enjoying it very much, thank you. (Well, not the achiness, but you can’t have everything.)

It’s nice to engage in convos with friends about aging sans the anxiety the topic used to provoke. There are enough stressful subjects otterwise. Like did you know housecats would totally murder you if they were just a bit larger? Oh yes!

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~*~

The Daily Prompt: Provoke

Restart

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I was chatting with a friend the otter day and lost track whether it had been 5 or 6 years since my divorce was final. (It’ll actually be 7, this July.) The years roll on by. This month marks 5 years since my dad passed away, and April 13th will be the 10th anniversary of my mother’s death. At the end of August, I’ll have been at my current job for 17 years.

Nothing dramatic, but I feel that 2018 is finally starting for me now on March 1. I didn’t feel well for a bit and, except for my daughter’s wedding, 2017 wasn’t that great of a year overall… the end of it slid into the blackness without a splash. It’s taken a few months for this year to get going in my mind. Emotionally, I needed to process the fact that time passes so ridiculously quickly now and quit wasting so much of it. I saw some piece of trivia that we really only read around 4000 books in our life ~ so let’s not be gobbling up so many crappy ones ~ also let’s not allow a month to pass without reading any (note to self).

I read two books in February. One was supposedly “great,” a NYT bestseller by the demigod Ethan Canin Titled A Doubter’s Almanac, which took me a long damn time because I tried to grok the math, and lol the joke was on me [spoiler alert]… it was fake. Yes, in the era of fake news, we also have fake math. I enjoyed the beginning of the book so much, but then when the narration took a weird turn I started wondering about the math theorem and looked it up ~ fake! I thought, okay cool, he made it up for his fiction. I can respect that; I make shit up all the time. Fuck, I’ve made up whole cities. But dammit, I felt betrayed. I had invested so much time in the book’s philosophy up until that point. In fact, it reminded me of my own philosophy, my central thesis, my touchstone…

MATH IS GOD

But eh fuck it. I read the rest of the book much faster, skipping most of the “math” and just trying to keep it together structurally until the end because I had a hunch about what might happen regarding son/father and… viola… I was correct. Sheesh, what a long book. Unnecessarily so. All those beautiful women falling for dorky mathmen with no social skills because of course they do. I love male fantasies. They’re almost as stupid as female ones.

Then in two days I read a nice, neat, normal murder mystery by Robert Dugoni titled My Sister’s Grave. Well, it wasn’t “nice” exactly ~ made me cry a little. Good book. Significant flashback sections, but after the fake math stuffs? Totes fine.

Point being, with unlimited time I would read every book, see every movie, give each tune a listen that friends slap up on FB. But time is running out. Well, not time precisely. It’s not doing anything. But I’m finite. I don’t want to waste another 3 weeks immersed in a boring father/son angst marathon only to discover there’s no such thing as the Malosz conjecture. Break my heart! Never trust a writer.

~*~

The Daily Prompt: Restart

Peeve Tuesday

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Last week I ordered a couple essentials from Amazon: cat food and hairspray. I order a lot of stuff from Amazon, a lot. They know who I am and where to find me. As does the clown who signed me up for Us Magazine ~ thanks a lot, dingdong. I don’t want it, I’m not interested in celebs, and it’s going straight to the trash. No one better bill me for it either! (Okay fine, I have been glancing through it, under protest. It’s very shiny.)

Anyway, I forgot my essentials were scheduled to arrive on Sunday because I was so wrapped up in watching The Big Game, as one does. But yesterday I thought, hey, where’s my stuffs? So, I did the tracky thing and lo found an exception. Amazon outsourced my delivery to USPS, who couldn’t get in.

Let’s think about this for a moment. The actual U.S. Post Office, who delivers my actual mail (rain or shine), didn’t know how to get into my apartment complex. WTF? How do they deliver my real mail then? No problem, I figured, I have an account with them, so I will contact them, give them my gate code (idiots), so they can redeliver.

Nope, nope, nope. Can’t do that. Only the sender can intercept. I could be some weirdo trying to steal someone else’s cat food and hairspray in the middle of the delivery. With my own log-in credentials where they have my real name, address, etc, and I’d be at risk of a felony for committing mail fraud. To steal cat food and hairspray. Yes, that could happen and the Post Office isn’t taking any chances. Can’t contact Amazon to give them the gate code to give to USPS because the transaction is now out of their hands. All gone, wheee!

The only thing for me to do is wait and see what happens. Either the USPS buttheads will redeliver my package properly or they’ll return it to Amazon, at which time I can ask them to use another delivery service, or pick it up myself at one of their stations. Luckily however on Monday (yesterday) the next USPS mailperson figured out how to get into my apartment complex (miracle!) and delivered my package.

I received an email notice at noon that my package had been “left with an individual.” An individual? What? Why? Who? I don’t even know any of my neighbors. Would I have to knock on doors saying, “Excuse me sir do you haz my cat food and hairspray?” Was not looking forward to this scenario. NOT AT ALL. Though it could be a romance novel cute meet… But this is real life, and I don’t meet men cutely, or in any way whatsoever. I just want my G.D. cat food and hairspray!

Why is life so hard? I want my mommy! Waaah!

In any case, I had to go out to dinner with friends last night and was forced to play a long complicated game that was sort of like… scrabble plus poker and… well, I can’t explain it, too weird, but it went on forever and I got home after 10PM… and guess what?

MY PACKAGE WAS RIGHT OUTSIDE MY DOOR!!!

What a week I’m having. And it’s only Tuesday.