Sunday, October 30, 2011

This Gobbamned SwivelStore piece of sh*t.

I thought my regular readers would appreciate an update on the SwivelStore that I blogged about not long ago.  It's a hunk of junk, but I'm using it.  Oh, yes I am.  I bought and paid for that piece of shit (or four of them) fair and square so I've earned the right to bitch about it all I want.  And I shall.  I may even link the SwivelStore people to this blog and let them see how irate I am about their cheating, lying ways.  

To get anyone who isn't up to speed caught up, I ordered a SwivelStore organizer through the SwivelStore site online. I wanted to take advantage of their two for one deal (stupid stupid stupid), but when I clicked to order the one...(which was going to be two) it took me to a confirmation page that stated that I had ordered TWO sets of TWO.  Who the fuck needs FOUR of these contraptions?!  Then I noted that the "processing" fee came to a total of $31.00 and change.  WHA...???   Husband of Brilliance later informed me that they had charged the same shipping and handling for each individual item, even the free ones, so I got screwed in a whole different door.  Not cool, SwivelStore, people.  Not cool.

There was no "back" button.  That sucker was processed.  I had Sugar Daddy (see: Husband of Brilliance) call the customer service number that I had found through a laborious search.  He got in touch with one of the many SwivelStore drones and was told, of course, that it had already left the processing plant (man, they're lightning fast...or liars) and the only thing we could do would be to refuse its delivery when it came to the door.  Right.  Okay, then.   We're saddled with the $70 bill for four SwivelStore thingimawhoosits.  Great.  

Its flimsy plastic only holds the small bottles and jars of spices, so if you're looking for something that will hold your glass jars, skip the SwivelStore.  You'll use it once and it will break and fall on your head, causing you to curse the existence of such an atrocity.  You've been warned.

They've even made it difficult to attempt to give these things away as gifts (not that I would try to pass such a plastic nightmare off on my family and friends) as they neglected to pack them in anything but a plastic wrapper and a plain cardboard box.  The only indication that they were, in fact, Swivel Store products is the flimsy little 4 X 6 note card with their name on it and instructions for the incredibly vapid, showing how to use it properly.

Swivel Store, you suck balls.

Saturday, October 29, 2011

Happy Anniversary, Baby...♫ gotchoo-onmah-MII-HIIND ♫

It's been 17 years since that fateful day when Sugar Daddy and I tied the knot and joined the ranks of millions of other wedded couples. I was going to share with you some photos of that day, but who really enjoys looking at another person's boring old wedding photos?  So let's mix it up a little.  I'm going to show you the ones that DIDN'T make it into the Wedding Album of Extreme Awesomeness.

Future MIL and unmade, barely awake me on the morning of Black Saturday.  I can't even tell you who that is in the back.  Maybe Future FIL, I'm not entirely sure.

John's friend Brian had to get a shot of John's boxers which were specially purchased for the day.  They had little limousines on them that said "Get me to the church on time". 

The Blushing Bride.
(Hey, Kim, can you spot the Suddenly Boobs in this shot?)

Reception shoes.  They said "Just Married" on them. 

Do NOT incur the wrath of Angry Bride!

What's he doing under there?


Is that a propane tank?! 

♫ a little bit softer now, (shout) a little bit softer now (shout)... ♫


Lookin' Studly.  Don't light that nasty thing, John!


What a couple of goobers.

Working together to wield the knife.  
We had no idea what we were doing and I vaguely remember trying to lick that knife off when we were done, but I was thwarted by someone possessing more manners than I. (I was frosting blocked!)

Because once was not enough...everyone wanted John take his pants off so they could see the infamous boxers. Take 'em off, Johnny-boy!

 Every bride should dance to Sir Mix-A-Lot, especially when they are sporting a ginormous bow on their hind end.

Okay, this one's not that funny, and it DID make it into the album, but it was taken in the backseat of a Saab on the way to the reception.  We submitted this one to the paper...after we cropped out the dome light.  ;)

This one really should have made it into the book.  Someone move those candles!
   Just outside the church. 
No one looks quite ready, do they? 
(Is that my FIL photobombing this one?)

You know what?  Can we get just one more shot of those boxers and your supercool dance moves, John? 

Very nice.  Thank you, honey.

Friday, October 14, 2011

There's a Kitteh at the End of This Post.

Title changed from "I'm totally blogging about this, but it's not my usual genre..." 

I was recently given a "presentation" by my MIL about the Esteem Invisible Hearing

I listened calmly as she told me more about it and urged me to read the information and watch the DVDs that came in the packet, but my stomach was turning inside out.  I'm sure I had the constipated look on my face that I get when I have to feign joy at something I'm not all that enthused about. 

This surgery is done to replace hearing aids (which I have worn for 16 years).  

Here's the rub:  I don't mind my hearing aids.  They are part of who I am.  I've had 16 years to become accustomed to them and my life is better because I wear them.  I'm not one bit embarrassed to have people see that I wear them (my next pair will be pink if I can swing it).

My hearing loss is of the hereditary variety.  I'm the youngest in my family to have lost hearing (if you know me or have read my blog before you'll remember I started losing my hearing around 16 and got my first hearing aids at 23).  My grandfather started losing his hearing at or around his fifties (that's the closest relation we can figure to have had impaired hearing) and my mother, who is now 74, thinks she may be starting to lose some of hers.  

My point in mentioning the hereditary aspect of it is this:  If one or more of my children develop hearing losses of their own, I'd rather have shown them how manageable my life is without perfect hearing and teach them how to deal with it with grace instead of trying to fight the tide of fate to the tune of $30,000.  

Hearing aids are not covered by insurance.  Ear surgery of this sort (and all the prep-work beforehand) would be completely out-of-pocket.   MIL offered to pay $15,000, but my hearing aids work perfectly well and cost a shit ton less than THIRTY THOUSAND FRICKING DOLLARS!  Hell, I'd love a new pair of hearing aids (in pink), and a nice, new refrigerator.  With that money, you could toss in a few car repairs and still have cash to blow on a laptop (which I really really do want).

Nevermind the fact that any maintenance would be ANOTHER out-patient procedure, which, as we all know, is SURGERY with a less-threatening name.  The drawbacks for me seem to be far more than the pluses.  If it brings more stress into my life and not less, I don't want it, thanks.

Oh, and just the name of this thing is irritating.  "Esteem"?  As in "Self"?  Read the first page of that site.  They're trying to sell this surgery by appealing to our insecurities.  Yeah, because if you can't hear, you're broken and must have low self-esteem.  That's a nice message to send, isn't it?  This chick is not having it.  

Is it really unbelievable that I wouldn't want to change myself in this way? 

What would you do?

(If you stayed with me through all of that, please enjoy this picture of my cat playing checkers.)

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

TamWOW! Saving the world, one crotch at a time.

Why do people doubt my genius?  I constantly struggle with this in my life.  I'm so serious about marketing my Human Dominoes idea, folks.  I really think it would make a ton of money as an impulse buy around the holidays, thereby making me a kazillionaire and Sugar Daddy would be able to retire.  That idea is full of WIN, right?

My ideas go largely unnoticed and/or unacknowledged.  Sometimes I'll see a new product hit the shelves that begs the question "When is enough, enough?"  The answer, of course, is "When it's just too much!"  I have a dream that one of those "Just Too Much" products will originate with me.

This leads me to my next multi-million dollar idea.  
In the interest of protecting cotton crotches all over the world, I'm here to offer a practical solution:

Heavier periods require heavier protection.  When Aunt Flo simply cannot contain her enthusiasm and your overnight pad clocks out an hour and a half into its shift, we need something stronger to do the job.  
TamWOW!   Diva Cup runneth over?  TamWOW!  


You'll say "WOW!"  Every.  Time.

Monday, October 10, 2011

The Wedding Of My Dreams...Yeah, Notsomuch.

I had a weird one last night, people. 
Sugar Daddy and I were renewing our wedding vows at JCPenney.  *nodding*  Yup. JCPenney.  Doesn't everyone choose this venue for their nuptials?   I think the escalators add a nice touch.

It seems that this event had been planned for some time, but I, ever the procrastinator, forgot to double check a few things.    

The dress took three people to get me into it, as my dream self seemed to believe that I could still fit into the wedding dress I wore 17 years and 3 children ago.  It was hard to get fastened, but the material must have undergone some kind of molecular transformation, because the danged thing didn't split apart at the seams.  Hm...must've been one of those rubberized wedding gowns.  I was a vision in white...and reddish purple...but once the blood left my face and was once again distributed to my extremities, I looked fabulous.  

I also forgot to check my ring.  It was missing a stone.  Somehow I had remembered to bring all my other jewelry and a pair of pliers, so I thought I could MacGuyver a new one, but the ring I fashioned turned out to be shaped like some strange kind of butterfly with wings that moved.  It was super-cheesy and not a MacGuyver Win at all, but a massive FAIL.

Then I remembered we were inside JCPenney!  So I sent my mother over to the jewelry department to pick up a new ring and a pair of earrings...because, wouldn't you know it, I forgot those too.  Unfortunately, Dream Mom lacked the fashion sense and superb taste in jewelry that my Real Mom has and the earrings were a disaster, but the ring looked great.

Thank God the alarm woke me up just after seeing the dresses I had chosen for my bridesmaids: hot pink satin with ruffled sleeves, off the shoulder and a skirt the size of Deborah Kerr's in The King and I.  Those poor, poor girls.

Come to think of it, I didn't even see Sugar Daddy in the dream.  Gee, I hope he showed.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Candy Begging

YES!  For my city, the kids have from 5 to 7 for Trick or Treat and it's on the 30th not the 31st because there's a parade downtown on the 31st and they want the parade folks to have someone to aim at when they throw their harder than hell Tootsie Roll candies and Butterscotch Kisses.  Ever get beaned with one of those?  They HURT.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

When Random Ninja does stupid shit, the blog benefits.

This morning, in a moment of sheer impulse, I accidentally ordered 2 *SETS* of the Swivel Store spice organizer thingie-ma-doohickey.  That means FOUR of the blasted things will be arriving at my door in two to four weeks.  I didn't want FOUR of them, but the way the site was set up, I thought I had to enter a number denoting how many I wanted, total.  I wanted two...but one comes free* when you order it through their site and I thought...

...well, I guess I wasn't really thinking now, was I?  Can I blame it on lack of caffeine?  Yes, I had a dumb and if I can't get one set taken off our card, John's gonna have a disappointed in my spending habits, but our seasonings will be organized, gods be damned. 

Maybe I'll give one away for Christmas.  Who needs more organization in their spice cupboard?  

Monday, October 3, 2011

How Can You Eat That Garbage?

I live near a neighborhood bar with an adjoining pizza joint.  Ingenious notion, yes, but that's beside the point of my tale.  This past weekend, someone must have gotten the munchies after their evening of drunken tomfoolery and ordered not one, but two pizzas on the way out.   I'm going to assume that it was a case of Beer Goggles Overestimates Beer Gut, because they ate a couple pieces of each pizza...and then left the boxes open on the ground, NEAR, but not IN the neighbor's trash bin.  

Nice. Real nice.   

The neighbor isn't there every day, so she had no idea that there were abandoned pizzas near her city-issued refuse receptacle.  I was going to move it, but being the super-sidetracked airhead that I am, I went inside and did...(probably nothing) really really useful stuff...and completely forgot about the pizza remnants.

This morning, I noticed that the rest of the pizza was gone...all except the crusts.  Obviously, my first thought was that an animal stumbled upon it and had quite a feast, but animals wouldn't leave the crusts, would they?  Who does that?  How drunk do you have to be to eat day old pizza off the ground?  Near a trash can?!  If a human being "recycled" that garbage, I'll bet the stomach cramps they'll have from whatever got into the 'za will have them in the hospital sometime this afternoon.  

(I really hope there's a finicky raccoon sleeping one off somewhere.)

People are nasty. 

Some Other Stuff I Wrote