All Or Nothing

Black Tar Heroin, Indeed

Hi!  Want to hear something super cool?  You know when I was writing that last post, the one about sitting uncomfortably and not buying Microsoft Office?  Well, at the very moment I was writing that, sitting awkwardly on the floor and everything, a thief was breaking into Cody's truck and stealing everything inside!  I know, awesome, right?

And!  It gets better.  My well-intentioned but hopelessly disorganized husband was carrying just about every single document a citizen of the United States could possibly want in order to show that they do, in fact, have an identity.  Like, for example, a drivers license.  And a social security card.  And!  A birth certificate.  And a tax ID number!  And a bank account number.  And the requisite wallet with debit and credit cards.  So, yea!  A brand new Cody is born!  Complete with $700 of new crap from Wal-Mart purchased with one of our debit cards within 15 minutes of the theft, a two-year old laptop containing absolute LOADS of personal information, and (ironically) a copy of the Microsoft Office Suite.  For PC.  If the Suite was for Macs, I would suspect myself immediately. 

We are now a strictly cash-using family, due to the fact that everything possible in our names has been canceled.  I asked Cody if he deposited my last check in our bank account and he said yes, but now that it's in there, we have no access to the money whatsoever.  It's like a savings plan, on crack!

The crediting agencies (yes, all three of them) are supposed to call us if someone tries to, you know.  Buy a house.  Or a car.  Or, like, a really expensive dog or something.  Yorkies are pricey.  And the pet stores finance!  The good thing is, though, that due to the Law of Youth which states (and I paraphrase)

"...every young person must reside in a seemingly endless state of Being Broke unless A) their parents give them money constantly B) they have a trust fund or C) they sell drugs.  Lots of drugs"

our thief is not going to be able to afford a very good car.  Maybe a Kia or something, but not anything in the Porsche or Land Rover family.  So ha!  Joke's on you, buddy.  Have fun with our laptop and your new Kia.  Or something.

Now, onto something more fun.  I have, thanks to Pixie, obtained a new site meter.  It is called SHINYSTAT!  And it must be written in all caps, with the exclamation point.  Because SHINYSTAT! is such a cute name, and it seems exciting!  And fun!  And deserving of appropriate punctuation, at the very least.  Anyway, SHINYSTAT! has a feature which allows me to see the search terms and phrases people type into Google or whatever else people might use to search (is there anything else? Really?) and somehow get directed to my site.  Now I realize that this subject, as far as blog posting, is as old as the hills, but it is no less funny or entertaining, so shut up.  And let me show you my search terms.   I will try to answer questions (yeah, that's right, Kyle, read it and weep) regarding your search queries, but in some cases might have to resort to directing you elsewhere for true answers.

"cara copeland", ballet - This one is easy.  Cara Copeland was in the class ahead of me at the prestigious Ballet Lubbock for nearly all 12 years I attended the school.  She was (by far) the best dancer in the troupe, and was my idol.  I loved her with all my little girl heart.  I think she dances professionally now.  She should, anyway.  She was like a graceful angel.

"remember me cancer" lance armstrong - Easy, again.  I once wrote about how annoying I find the commercial where ol' Lance stares at the screen and proclaims "Remember me, cancer?  You made me suffer.  My mom, too," in all his grammatical prowess.

vinny testa restaurant + testaverde - While I have never written about Vinny's restaurant, or Vinny going to a restaurant, I have, on occasion, professed my undying love for Vinny Testaverde.  Gross-sounding last name and all, I find him enormously endearing.

"relieve himself" lady humiliation bladder - Whoa.  You've really thrown me for a loop now.  Not only do I not remember writing about lady humiliation bladders, I honestly have no direct knowledge of lady humiliation bladders, relative to relieving "himself" or otherwise.  Sorry.  It sounds like you may have some kind of vendetta though.  Good luck with that.

keith richards "black tar heroin" - Um.  Was it on a list of Things I Like?  No idea.

once in a life time porn vacation porn - Yow.  You people are getting sick, now.  First you want to know about black tar heroin, and it's like, ok, but I'm not that hardcore, really, and now you're wanting porn?  And vacation porn, at that.  I'm sorry, but this is just not that kind of site.

"lesson on fairness" - You might want to talk to the lady humiliation bladder seeker, above.  It sounds like the two of you could compare problems and come up with something really vengeful.

Also, I have become famous, in a lesser-traveled sub-sector of the Internet.  I wonder if the Backyardigans fan-base is responsible for some of my stranger search keywords.  If so, you are some messed up folk, Backyardigans fans,  Messed up.

 

I've Been UPSed! YouPeeEsssed! You Pissed? You Betcha!

Every show (yes, I'm still talking about this, shut up), there is a certain item that everyone wants.  An item that people go crazy over, that women swoon at the sight of and men sigh resignedly and hand over their wallets without even arguing because it's THAT good.  We like to call this item the hot ticket.  Well, this year, the hot ticket was this little kimono style dress I bought in two color combinations.  I would post a picture but because I have now sold this dress out two days in a row (30 dresses each time) I have no image available. Luckily, the company I got this dress from is the awesome sort who will overnight ship things to you and are therefore making me lots of money.  Yea for the kimono dress company!  I have another shipment of the dresses overnighting to me this evening as well, and will try my best to take a picture of my hot ticket before they sell out again tomorrow (knock on wood). 

The other hot ticket for me this show has been headbands.  I had a huge basketfull of headbands on Thursday morning, and by about 4pm that afternoon I think I had 5 headbands left.  Obviously a hot ticket, right?  So obviously I should reorder.  And that's exactly what I set forth to do, reorder the headbands, and go on with my selling.  I placed my order with the headband company, who assured me that they would be awesome and overnight ship 200 headbands to me and that they would be at my store by 10am Friday (this) morning.  I was at my store at exactly 10am this morning.  The UPS man was also at my store at exactly 10am this morning.  The headbands, however, were not.

This is the message Cody got when he was finally able to maneuver through about 5 different language barriers and find out where the package was, exactly, since where it WASN'T, EXACTLY, was in my booth, being sold. 

Package Progress
Location	Date	Local Time	Description
LONG BEACH, CA,  US	11/10/2006	6:42 P.M.	ARRIVAL SCAN
LOS ANGELES, CA,  US	11/10/2006	6:10 P.M.	DEPARTURE SCAN
	11/10/2006	12:09 A.M.	THE PACKAGE WAS LEFT IN A UPS FACILITY CAUSING THIS DELAY;FORWARDED TO THE FACILITY IN THE DESTINATION CITY
	11/10/2006	12:09 A.M.	ORIGIN SCAN
LOS ANGELES, CA,  US	11/09/2006	4:07 P.M.	PICKUP SCAN
US	11/09/2006	9:34 P.M.	BILLING INFORMATION RECEIVED

Tracking results provided by UPS:  11/10/2006 10:48 P.M.  EST (USA)

My favorite part, really, is where it says THE PACKAGE WAS LEFT IN A UPS FACILITY CAUSING THIS DELAY; FORWARDED TO THE FACILITY IN THE DESTINATION CITY and then shows that it went to Long Beach.  My store, for the uninformed, or for the UPS EMPLOYEES, is in TEXAS. 

You know, Texas.  That big state at the bottom of the map, the one that isn't actually very near LONG BEACH CALIFORNIA.

Alone! Or, Don't Rent Cars From Midway Rental Agency

California doesn't like me this month. 

You see, I come out here fairly often.  In fact, upon closer examination of my frequent flier account, I come out here nearly every 6-8 weeks.  Just like a root-touch up!  I get a little card from the state of California, reminding me that hey, we haven't seen you in a while, isn't it time for your next appointment?

Usually, I would venture to guess, you don't even notice that I've gone.  I fly out here, do my business, and fly back home, normally in a couple of days, and normally without incident.  Certainly nothing postworthy.

Well, my friends, I have been here for a staggering 14 hours, and already it ranks as possibly the worst traveling experience I have had, to date.

Realize that when I say "worst traveling experience" I include the time I flew to El Salvador, had my plane delayed 8 hours in the Miami airport, and arrived at the San Salvador airport in the middle of the night, alone, armed only with the warnings I had received to "never be alone after sunset" and the knowledge that the bus I was supposed to take to the little port town of La Union had come and gone. 
And, did I mention, the bus only comes to San Salvador once a week?  Yeah, once a week, every Saturday, from 12-6, the bus sits at the airport and loads up passengers to take them out to La Union.  If you miss the bus, there's really no problem, unless you mind waiting AN ENTIRE WEEK to get to where you're meant to be.  What, you had something to do?  Oh well, we're Latin Americans, and you should probably reeeelaxx, anyway.  Which is true, we should, but a week?  With no hotel, and no money for one?  And a limited Spanish vocabulary?  Alone?  As an 18 year old gringa?

Anyway, all that was nothing compared to yesterday.
 
First - well, FIRST, I can't even think of what was first.  Basically, no one could take me to the airport, I missed my plane, my bags missed the other plane, I couldn't stay with either of my brothers or my brother's girlfriend (because apparently her roommate is so completely psychotic that she has drawn up a "house charter" which entails that no one, at any time, can spend the night at the house. Not even Mary's poor brother, who was recently traveling cross-country and had nowhere else to stay), so I had to book a hotel alone (which I hate and always makes me feel lonely and depressive). 

I reserved a rental car which was guaranteed to have a shuttle from the airport to the rental agency but actually did not, and after standing (alone!) outside LAX for around 45 minutes waiting for the Shuttle That Is Not, I finally discovered that hey, I have to take the Radisson Hotel shuttle, who would have guessed that a HOTEL SHUTTLE TAKES YOU TO A RENTAL CAR AGENCY??  And then I (alone again, are we seeing a theme) drag my two huge rolling bags and my laptop and my purse and myself down about 3 city blocks worth of sidewalk to the Hotel Shuttle Line, and wait another 20 minutes for the shuttle to arrive.  It finally does, and sensing my impending relief, the lovely state of California delivered me another swift kick in the gut as I found myself standing outside the Radisson Hotel, alone again, the shuttle having departed to the NEXT Radisson Hotel on the schedule, because hey!  We go to several Radisson Hotels, and it's up to you to determine which one houses the rental car agency!  That's the Radisson way. 

I wait another 15 minutes for the next shuttle to arrive, drag all my crap up the shuttle stairs again, and interrogate the driver as to where, exactly, this ubiquitous rental car agency is, exactly.  He assures me that it is the next stop, and I sigh, wait for my sign, and lug my bags etc. into another hotel (which, coincidentally, looks EXACTLY like the last hotel).  I find an employee who wonders if I would like to check in and when I inform him that no, all I want is my car, he gives me an exceedingly puzzled look. 
"Car?  Hmmm....where did you say you were getting a car from?"   
I am horrified as I explain that the rental car agency is supposed to be HERE, I was told it was INSIDE THE RADISSON, and he does that supremely annoying hotel employee thing of sighing, rolling his eyes, and saying "Oh, Midway, you were supposed to have a car reserved from Midway.  Yes, they have an office inside the hotel, but they close every evening at 7pm".  And then he shot me a look that clearly said I should have known all of that already, and that I had put him out by having him waste his time explaining. 

I remark that closing at 7pm doesn't seem quite reasonable, does it, given the fact that LOTS OF FLIGHTS ARRIVE AFTER 7PM, INCLUDING MINE.  A fact which I was required to enter into the Midway Rental Car system when I RESERVED MY CAR.  The hotel employee looks even more annoyed, and suggests that I might find it more convenient, next time, to reserve from a 24-hour agency?  And, after punching him 100 times in the face, I reply that yes, that would be more convenient, and you know what else would be convenient?  MIDWAY NOT ADVERTISING THAT THEY ARE A 24-HOUR AGENCY. 

I then proceed to get drawn into one of those horrible circular conversations where I ask him what he thinks I ought to do, and he gives me completely obvious suggestions that only rival their obviousness with their unhelpfulness.  After he tells me that really the only thing to do is to wait for yet another shuttle to take me BACK TO THE AIRPORT, I feel as if maybe, just maybe, this trip is not going to be a good one. 

I finally get back to the airport, albeit not anywhere near where the Rental Car Shuttles go, and have to drag my stuff, which is now feeling like 678 pounds or so, another several blocks or so, just so that I can end up EXACTLY WHERE I WAS WAITING OVER AN HOUR BEFORE. 

As you can imagine, I could go on.  And on.  But in the interest of, well, preventing me from committing a mortal sin, I will just sum the rest up.  I tried not one, not two, but THREE rental car agencies, all with the requisite shuttle ride to and from the airport included, until I found an agency with A) a car to rent and B) last-minute prices that only financially molested me, rather than going all the way with a full-blown monetary rape. 

After hearing my sad tale, the rental agency employee wondered if next time I might avoid all this trouble by just reserving a car at a 24-hour agency?  I left him crying on the floor, got my car, and arrived at my hotel a short while later, where I was promptly informed that it would cost me $19 dollars PER NIGHT to park, a fact that was conveniently left out in advertisement.  But why shouldn't it cost me over $60 bucks to leave my car on a tiny spot of asphalt while I sleep in a ROOM THAT I ALREADY PAID FOR?   Obviously! 

The poor hotel check-in man was terrified of me, I think, as I'm sure I was sporting the most pissed off, livid look possible on my tired and miserable face and probably looked like death warmed over.   He tried to check me in so quickly that he ended up having to call up to my room just as I was about to crawl into bed.  "I'm so sorry, ma'am," he said.  "I forgot to imprint your credit card.  I was trying to get you up to your room quickly so you could sleep...you just looked so....ummm..."
I cut him off there, saying that I would be down in a minute to give him the card, and not to worry about it.

And then?  I got stuck in the elevator.

HYPOTHETICALLY SPEAKING, OF COURSE

Here is an excerpt of the complete and total idiocy I might have to deal with on a near daily frequency if, hypothetically, we were involved in a lawsuit with the people from whom we bought the store.  I mean, of course this is all made up, but just IF, if we were involved in something like that, this is an exchange that might, hypothetically, occur.  The most important thing to remember here is that this is ALL MADE UP!  NONE OF IT IS REAL!  DO YOU HEAR THAT, LAWYERS?

The lady who sold us the store is, and I am being as nice as possible here, very, very stooooopid (hypothetically).  She wastes so much time rehashing issues that have absolutely nothing to do with anything (again, hypothetically).  It would normally only be an annoyance; a slight, nagging, continuing decline in my faith in the human race, but it is costing me about $200 per hour (hypothetically!) to deal with her nonsensical issues. 

Here, I respond to a hypothetical email sent by her hypothetical lawyer to my hypothetical lawyer.  She is complaining, once again, that we have not complied with our contractual obligations to change the signage on the store.  Also, because the name of my store is nearly identical to the name of her "business", whatever that might be, we often get orders shipped to each others addresses.  Instead of just accepting this as a fact of a computerized nation, she consistently brings it up in regards to this lawsuit.  Like, hey! I know!  I will sue you because the companies we both order from hire foreign, non-English speaking shipping department employees and they often mix up my address with yours!  It must be your fault (hypothetically).

All names and identifying details have been changed.  Not that they need to be.  It's all hypothetical!

The neon sign placed between the store and the building next to it does say "Old Store's Name".  I have never owned this sign.  It belonged to Old Store Owner, henceforth referred to as the Devil, and was her sign for her business, after she sold us the store.  I can only assume that it belongs to the Devil's parents now, as they are now the owners of that business and that building.  But it has NEVER belonged to me, and I have never had any right to take it down.  In fact, when I bought the store, the Devil made us promise that she could keep that sign up because it was "her" sign for her business, and she needed it so that her traffic would not diminish.  Perhaps she still owns it?  If so, she should feel FREE to take it down.  I would love for it to be gone.

I have NEVER advertised with her name.  I would never even want to do so, and I have absolutely, unequivocally never advertised my store with any other name than "Current Store Name".  If the Devil's lawyer is "aware" of some advertising of this nature, I would love to see it.  Maybe they can produce some on their home computer, because it doesn't exist anywhere else.

I have no idea what the Devil's lawyer is talking about in his last sentence. Maybe companies are still sending my orders to her address?  If so, I am unaware of it.  Also, if this is still occurring, it has nothing to do with me or the Devil not being clear about our respective names and addresses, it would remain a problem with the company in question not reading carefully enough when they select their shipping address out of the computer.  As you can imagine, "Current Store Name" and "Old Store's Name" would be alphabetically right next to each other. Perhaps we could explain the alphabet to the Devil's lawyer and have him convey that system of organization to the Devil. 

They enjoy wasting time.

Customer Suck-It

Selections from a customer service agent's training manual:

Section One: "How To avoid answering any direct questions"

Section Two: "How To speak broken English fluently"

Section Three: "How To quickly alert the customer to the fact that they have a much better grasp of the company's operation than you do"

Section Four: "How To quickly alert the customer to the fact that you have never been to, seen, or had any experience with the place of business in question"

Section Five: "How To avoid any kind of reasoning by repeatedly asking the customer the correct spelling of his/her mother's maiden name, regardless of what they have asked you"

Section Six: "How To get out of a tough spot by allowing the customer to thoroughly and intelligently explain his/her situation, and then immediately transferring them to an entirely different department"

Section Seven: "How To refer only to 'Company Policy' when fielding all questions about general procedures.  Note - Be sure not to explain 'Company Policy' to customer under any circumstances.  In order to make this step more streamlined, we will not explain 'Company Policy' to you."

Well, at least Seinfeld's on....

Sick. Have been lying on the couch for the vast majority of today. Couch is probably sick as well by now. Did get up once to open the door for (who I thought was) my husband. Turned out to be the Girl Scouts, but not really. It was some lady either pretending to be a Girl Scout, or actually making it as the oldest Girl Scout in history...who am I to judge. Bought two boxes of cookies to make up for my inner prejudice. Decided that the cookies will be just the thing to kick off my new plan to Realize My Inner Waif.
Throat has now closed up to the point where swallowing only seems a distant memory, shrouded in warm sepia light with soft romantic music in the background. Had to drink an ENTIRE coffee mug full of poison-flavored Thera-Flu. Decided that perhaps the geniuses behind this powerful drug decided that if they could only make the substance vile enough, the person sick enough to drink it would soon forget all other ailments and concentrate only on controlling gag reflex. If so, it certainly worked for me.
Everyone else is at a party. Luckily enough, I can entertain myself, thank you. I wonder what they're doing there, though. Probably sitting around boring each other with stories about nothing. Good thing I'm here getting well instead of wasting my time there. I'll just watch television some more. Hasn't anyone noticed what a complete train wreck Anna Nicole Smith is? Why, oh why, do they keep running those Trimspa commercials? Am I missing something? Haven't sat down to watch TV at night for a while...must say that there really isn't much to see. I bet they're listening to great music, and dancing and doing tequila shots. Those lucky jerks. I wish I were there.

Here's my musing for today:

Here's my musing for today:

I think (and pardon my apparent lack of knowledge as to the NEW rules of polite and appropriate behavior), that when a MAN makes a mistake, and then his mistake is found out, he ought to stand up, like a man, and take the consequences.

I do not think that instead, this man who made a mistake should then whisper his mistake to the secretary, and then send her in to the wolves to take all the ensuing fury (for his mistake, lest we forget).

Be a freaking man. Don't throw your secretary or anyone on a "lower" level than you under the bus just to save your own ass. It doesn't speak well of your character, and it certainly doesn't inspire any respect as a leader or authority.

Besides, us secretaries are usually cute and/or sweet. And we do the vast majority of your shit for you, so give us some f-ing respect sometimes. It wouldn't kill you.

Cali Forni Huh?

Goodbye, and good luck to all of you. I'll be sure to let you know how California fares, and on a final, closing note to my Tech tyrade, (I think they topped themselves):

They dropped me, AGAIN, for no reason, AGAIN, from my classes on Wednesday.

AND

They sold me a book, from the Texas Tech Extended Studies Bookstore, that has chapters 5-11 missing. Yes indeed, the page numbers go 81, 82, 83, 236, 237.....Wow. The ridiculousness of that, I feel, cannot be outdone. And with that, I will leave you.

TT F-U

Well, let's hear it for TTU! Yea for the Arts and Sciences advising offices! Yea for Student Business Services! On Wednesday, as I RANDOMLY (key word here is RANDOMLY) went in to see my advisor and ask her a simple question, she cheerfully informed me that they had "Changed your graduation date to May! Isn't that great?", to which I replied "#%*$*@&??!!??!?". It took an hour of going over my transcript and every other relevant piece of information from birth until now to convice her that I was, in fact, enrolled in the correct amount of classes in order to graduate THIS DECEMBER. OF 2003. NOT MAY. Nice of them to inform me of this change, anyhow.

Thursday (yes, today), Texas Tech's esteemed Student Business Services sent me a lovely email stating that I had been effectively dropped from all of my classes due to lack of payment. To which, again, I replied with a resounding "#%*$*@&??!!??!?". After a long telephone conversation and a trip to the SBS office, we (collectively) discovered that not only had I paid all my tuition in full well before the semester had even begun, but also that Tech had overcharged me for some library fee and they actually owed me $57.23. So, I got dropped from all my classes because Tech owed me money. What a system they've got going here!

And, as some sort of twisted final consolation, as I was leaving the SBS office to go over to the registrar and get reinstated into my classes, the lady called after me "Hey, don't worry about it, this same thing happened to some of the people in the Architecture major as well!". OH! Well! Why didn't you say so before?? Now that I know architecture majors have to deal with this ridiculous hassle as well, I feel much better about the whole thing. In fact, let's make a habit of dropping random students out of all their classes for no apparent reason. Let's make it a bi-monthly thing. Argh....

Grudges

All is well. I will neither be torching Texas Tech nor moving to a foreign country to escape their tyrannical behavior.

However, my plan of becoming a lawyer, making a trip back to Lubbock right around registration time for Tech, and hanging about the West Hall, asking students if they have any grievances they would like to discuss, finding a particuarly pertinent grievance, and then suing Tech for all they have is still in the works.....and then in my closing statement, before the jury, I will say, "Haha, Tech! You got yours!!" It will all be very professional.