Sunday night I placed an ad on craigslist under the domestic gigs category. Basically I had spent the day staring at my massive pile of clean laundry and just couldn’t take it anymore, so I posted explaining that I was looking for someone to help me fold, iron, and put away laundry once a week, and if time permits, take care of some other light housework. I offered to pay hourly, but since I have no idea what this kind of light housework should pay, I asked people to name their own pay rates.

Before we go any farther, let me give you two pieces of advice:

1. If you ever want blog fodder, post an ad on craigslist, because the responses! Holy hell, the responses are awesome.
2. When you post an ad on craigslist, don’t use your main email address. Even though I had them make my email anonymous, my inbox has been flooded with responses. Seriously, we’re talking over 150 so far.

At this point I’m not certain I’ll end up hiring anyone because really, can’t I handle doing my own laundry? (ha, I couldn’t do my own laundry before life with a baby) But I am certain I need to share some of the responses with you:

“I’m a proud American, born on American soil.” Wow, is someone a little xenophobic? I wonder what part of my ad made them think I’m looking specifically for an American. And not just some pansy-ass-not-proud American, but a Proud! American! who was born on American! Soil! America, Fuck Yeah! How awesome would it be if this person found out they were born in Canada because their parents were on vacation and their mom went into labor while there? What would they put on their cover letters if that were the case? How could they live with themselves?

“I like to foil clothes. I like clothes to be foiled like in stores.” Thanks, but I’ve got all my foil hat needs met at this time.

“I would like to work for you. I like to do laundry. I don’t iron.” Ironing is the majority of what I need done. In fact, it says it right there in the ad. Perhaps next you could apply to be an astronaut. “I would like to travel. I like spaceships. I don’t want to leave the Earth”

“I have experience with basic housekeeping. I can help you for $50 an hour.” So wait, let me make sure I understand this, you want $50 an hour to do my laundry? Is this code for a prostitute? Have I stumbled on to some kind of secret craigslist sex ring? “Hey baby I love doing laundry, can I fluff your towel with my mouth?” And if we’re not talking about $50 an hour for sex, is this person crazy? I want to email her back and say that if I could afford to pay her that much wouldn’t I already have a full staff to attend to my every need?

Out of over 100 responses, three look promising because they are college students who could potentially become baby sitters. The rest of the applicants are either too crazy to allow into my house or too expensive for anything other than sex. Who knew good help was so hard to find.

99% of you won’t care about this and I’m fine with that. I just wanted to get this out on the internet so Samsung would know that I was not screwing around when I said I would tell everyone I could how poorly they treat customers. This is not humorous like dooce’s similar post because I am not ready to find the humor in the situation. I’m sure soon I’ll look back on this and laugh but right now I’m leaning more towards the stabby end of the emotional spectrum.

By now I’m sure everyone knows that dooce had washing machine issues and was able to twitter her way to a fixed machine. Well, on the same day that she took to twitter my eight month old fridge died. But because I don’t have over one million twitter followers and I’m not a New York Times bestselling author Samsung basically told me to take my broken fridge and blow it out my ass. Actually, I’m getting ahead of myself.

On Tuesday I called Samsung to let them know that my fridge, which is still very much under warranty, was not maintaining a cool temperature. They arranged for a repairman to come out on Wednesday and I thought all was right with the world. Wednesday came and the repairman arrived, looked the fridge over and declared that the inverter was broken and the whole thing needed to be unplugged. He gave an estimate of Monday for repair. I promptly yelled a little bit upon hearing this, because Monday was unacceptable, there was no way I could function without a fridge for that long. The repairman, scared for his life and wanting to appease the hormonal crazy lady, said he could get the part and install it on Thursday. He swore the things in my freezer would be fine overnight and I tried my best to believe him.

Thursday morning arrived and the repairman was back at our house, inverter in hand. But upon installing it he found that it did not work. And he didn’t know when he could get a new one. And now everything in the freezer was really doomed. And please crazy lady don’t kill me. I was left feeling really helpless, what with more melting food than I could cram into my garbage can and the idea that no one knew when my fridge would be working again. So I followed in dooce’s footsteps and took to twitter. Turns out Samsung wanted to prove that they know how to provide good customer service, unlike that evil Maytag that Dooce was dealing with and they responded to my tweet right away. Unfortunately all they could do was give me information I already had, so it was back to Samsung’s customer service number for me.

The multiple calls to Samsung’s customer service department started rationally, I calmly explained to the customer service rep that with a two week old, not having a fridge was not an option. I explained that we were being forced to go out to eat three meals a day and I had no way to store breastmilk. I explained that going out to eat that much costs a crapload of money and sucks up a lot of energy that I just don’t have right now. But upon being told that all they could offer me was $200 to cover the cost of the food spoiled, I lost it and the tears started. I asked if they could express ship the needed part and was told no. I asked if there was anything else they could do and again was told no. At this point I was feeling rather defeated and was also crying into the phone. I had no choice but to give up for the day.

Friday morning brought a renewed desire to get the situation fixed, mostly because I had finally received confirmation that the inverter would be arrive on Thursday, as in six days later. And keep in mind that the first inverter didn’t fix the problem and there was no promise the new one would either. Also, I have family and friends arriving on Thursday so not having a fridge was absolutely not an option. So back to Samsung’s customer service line I went, but this time I got someone that understood why I was upset and, while she couldn’t help me, she was able to pass me through to the highest level of customer service representatives. I was told that these reps are able to make decisions based on individual cases and she really thought they would be able to offer me an acceptable solution. She was wrong.

The rep that I was passed through to was the rudest, most uncaring and unhelpful customer service person I have ever dealt with. She barely listened to the situation before declaring there was nothing she or Samsung could do. When I asked if the part could be found locally instead of waiting for it to ship from New Jersey, she said “Probably but we can’t help you locate it.” I asked if we could put a plan B in place on the off chance that the new inverter arrived and did not work. This way I wouldn’t have to wait another week for Samsung to figure something out, we would know exactly what we were going to do. She said no. I asked for a new fridge. She almost laughed at me. At this point I really lost it, which I think is totally understandable. I called the situation bullshit. I called my fridge a $2300 pile of crap. I told her I would badmouth Samsung to every person that I could and I would never recommend a Samsung appliance to another person. And then jparks came and took the phone away from me because I was not helping the situation.

At this point jparks was the more rational out of the two of us and took over explaining the situation and again asked for a new fridge. She gave him the same answers she gave me but with a little more explanation. Turns out Samsung’s computer system is down until Tuesday and they are ceasing to function as a company until then. But she also pointed out that even once the system is back up there is nothing they can do to fix our situation. At this point even jparks was at wit’s end and saw that the situation was not going to get better any time soon, so he gave up.

Now remember by Friday I had been without a fridge for three days and by Samsung’s estimate I would be without it for another six days. (at one point I was told the part was on back order and no one knew when it would be available again) I had exhausted myself trying to get any kind of help or compassion from Samsung so I decided to try something that seemed like a long shot. A really really long shot. I called Lowe’s customer care line because that’s who we bought the fridge from and I was really desperate. The customer service rep listened to my story and then put me on hold. I thought for sure she would come back to the line and tell me there was nothing they could do, I mean that would be par for the course. But! BUT! She came back and connected me to my local Lowe’s where the amazing manager informed me they would be delivering a new fridge THE NEXT MORNING.

After three days of the worst customer service from Samsung, to have Lowe’s step up the plate with one five minute phone call blew me away. Keep in mind that Lowe’s owed me nothing because the fridge was covered under Samsung’s warranty. Lowe’s could have told me there was nothing they could do and I would have totally understood, but they didn’t. Their customer service has officially blown me away and in the future I will purchase all my appliances from Lowe’s, although none of those appliances will be Samsung.

As I type this, Lowe’s delivery men are in my kitchen installing the new fridge. (also, Samsung discontinued my fridge. Lowe’s only had the upgraded, more expensive one in stock and that’s what they sent me. Because they are not jerks) I can not stress enough that if you are interested in new appliances you should buy them through Lowe’s and stay far away from Samsung. I repeat, for the sake of this popping up in Google searches, do not buy Samsung appliances. The experience I had with their customer service department is unacceptable and I would not wish that on anyone else. It’s great that Maytag stepped up to the plate for dooce and her washing machine, but that’s the kind of customer service we all deserve, even if we don’t have one million twitter followers. I may not be famous, but I deserve the same level of care as someone that is. The $2300 that I spend on my fridge is not somehow magically less than the $2300 a celebrity would spend.

Samsung, you have screwed up and it is unacceptable. I hope you learn from this that all customers matter, all phone calls to your customer service line should be met with a caring representative who actually has the power or know how to fix the situation, and you should believe an angry customer when they say they will tell everyone they know how crappy your service is.

With jparks being out of town this week (in case you’re wondering he’s doing okay. He hurt his knee today and now has to shave his leg so the medics can tape it up for him. I can’t wait to see the one shaved leg look) I was expecting the level of crazy that I have to deal with to be at an all time low. I was wrong.

It started on Monday when I went to Whole Foods. I parked, was getting out of the car when an older man, maybe around 70, walked in front of my parked car and started yelling at me that I had almost run him over. I was a bit confused and asked if he meant while I was driving through the parking lot. He responded with a very yell-y “No, just now when I was walking in front of your car!” So yeah, I almost ran over a 70 year old with my parked car, while the keys were in my hand, the driver door was open, and I was halfway out the door. It’s a talent I have. Not knowing what else to do, I apologized and headed towards the store. The whole walk across the parking lot he was yelling at me while people looked at us bewildered. I’m surprised I didn’t come back to a car that had been keyed or at least covered in organic, free range eggs.

No, I’m not that lucky because what I came back to was way worse. As I exited the store I saw two people dry humping on the trunk of my car. My first thought was “damn teenagers!” but as I got closer I realized that this wasn’t horny teenagers, this was horny 40 something year olds. Dry humping! On my car! I mean, come on people at least do it on your own cars, which were plenty of big enough to dry hump on or in. (Mercedes wagon, BMW 7 series. Plenty of humping room in those.) As I approached, still not quite knowing what to say, the couple noticed me and scurried back to their own cars which were parked on either side of mine. They never went in the store (neither car was there when I parked) and this leads me to believe that they were having an affair and decided to meet at their local Whole Foods for a little dry humping. Because nothing is sexier than a Whole Foods parking lot.

The final bit of crazy I’ve encountered this week was tonight when I went swimming at our neighborhood pool. Normally I try and go early in the morning or around 6:30 in the evening so there aren’t many people there to be scared by my stomach. Tonight I got there and a woman was swimming laps, which is pretty common. She was swimming freestyle the whole time and I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary about her. Another couple showed up after 30 minutes and were sitting on the deck when lapper climbed out of the pool. Revealing that she was topless. And at least 60 years old. With droopy boobs. I nearly drowned because the shock of it was too much. The other couple was obviously shocked too, but thank god they still possessed their ability to speak, unlike me. As Droopy Boobs stood on the side of the pool drying off, the guy politely told her that this was a pool that is open to the whole neighborhood, that lots of kids come here to swim, and that it might be considerate for her to swim with some sort of top from now on. She thanked him for the advice and explained that she had just moved here and that she’s used to topless swimming. Of course, she was topless while she explained all of this which was totally not awkward.

Dear crazy people of the Bay Area, I’m tired. And while I appreciate you guys going all out to keep me entertained while jparks is gone, do you think we could tone it down for the rest of the week? I don’t have the energy to deal with anymore dry humping or dropping boobs. So let’s reign it in and take our meds. Or at the very least, give me a few days on sanity and resume the crazy on Friday. Deal?

I was a little cranky this Saturday when I went to World Market to buy a dresser for the nursery. Perhaps the crankiness stemmed from my OB telling me “Whoa fattie, slow down on the eating!” although in a much nicer way. Maybe it was because Saturday morning I went to a baby fair where it was humid, sticky, and crowded. Or perhaps I’m just a cranky bitch. Either way, I was cranky on Saturday afternoon and not in a mood to be screwed with, but apparently World Market did not get this memo.

I went into the store knowing exactly what dresser I wanted. I grabbed the SKU off of it and proceeded to the register where the overly excited 13 year old cashier was ready to attempt to ring me up. The first problem was that I tried to pay with a check. Now I understand people don’t use checks that frequently anymore, but I wanted to pay from a specific account that I don’t have a debt card for, so check it had to be. The 13 year old actually asked me, while pointing at the check, “What is that?” Of course he had no idea how to process a check and had to call the manager over.

Once the manager came over and explained about writing down my birthday and other very vital info, she showed the kid how to run the check through their scanner, which rejected my check. Because why not make this a real learning experience? The manager then had to teach the kid how to call a check in and meanwhile the line behind me grew longer and angrier. It was really becoming a party for everyone in the store.

After spending a few minutes on the phone the manager turns to me with a look of frustration in her eyes. “Uh, I don’t really know why but your check isn’t going through. Did you think you had enough money in your account to cover this?” Really, that’s what you’re going to say to me after my check declines? You couldn’t come up with something more embarrassing or rude? I tried to explain that I know I have enough money to cover the check, but what good is my explaining this going to do? The manager asked if I had another way to pay and while I did, it wasn’t how I wanted to pay and I saw no reason to change my plans at this point. Plus I thought it made me look a little shifty to pull out a credit card at this point. “Hi, I don’t have the cash for this and obviously I’ve got some kind of bad credit since my check is declining so let me pay with plastic!”

The manager offered to put the dresser on hold for 48 hours for me and gave me the phone number for the check scan service saying “Good luck getting to the bottom of this!” Thanks lady. Also, I’m fairly certain she thought she would never see me again, especially not to buy the dresser since it was obvious that I’m broke and scamming World Market out of a dresser with my bad check writing skills.

I wasn’t even out the door when I called the check service. Turns out my check was declined for no reason at all. Seriously, that’s what they told me “We see that you have a clear check writing history and that there are enough funds to cover the check, but occasionally we stop a check to protect the consumer.” Because there is nothing a consumer likes more than being publicly humiliated by having a check decline in front of a crowd of people. Fun!

I then headed on over to my bank to make a withdrawal to pay for the dresser, because dammit the day would not end until I was the proud owner of a new dresser. I approached a teller and when he asked me “Do you want this in big bills?” I replied “No, I want it in singles please. I have to go make it rain this evening.” The teller gave me a bit of a strange look and then, thankfully, laughed.

I headed back to World Market, where the manager was still at the register helping my 13 year old cashier friend with another customer. Now I know this is wrong, but when I got to the front of the line I took great pleasure in dropping that wad of singles in front of the very bewildered cashier knowing he would have to count all of them out and that once he got to 20 he would probably get flustered and mess up. I wanted to apologize to the people in line behind me because yes, it was rather bitchy to make this purchase this way, but come on, I deserved some revenge.

The whole thing played out wonderfully. The kid had to count the stack of bills three times before he got the amount right and then he had to get the manager over to recount it. The manger was overly pissy about having to recount the money and even seemed a little pissy about having to fill out the paperwork to complete the sale. I know it wasn’t technically her fault the check declined and I also know if I were really wanting to be a bitch I would have taken my business to another World Market, but I’m lazy and this revenge was more my speed. Actually my true speed would have been to pay in pennies, but jparks wasn’t with me and there was no way I was going to drag that much weight around just to make a point.

In related news, I have the first piece of furniture for the nursery. Yay!

I’ve been spending quite a bit of time searching for things to put on the walls of the kid’s room, in a move that I believe is called nesting. On a side note, I would like the nesting to stop please, because I can not afford it anymore. Today I spent so much at Lowe’s that the cashier hugged me and then the other workers threw confetti as I exited the store. And I faxed in the order for the new carpet. ALL IN THE SAME DAY. I’m expecting a call from my credit card company thanking me any minute now.

Anyway, so I’ve been searching for things to put on the walls in the nursery and I stumbled on a site that custom makes wall decals. On the home page they scroll quotes that customers have recently ordered and, I shit you not, someone ordered a quote from Ashton Kutcher’s twitter. I know this, not because I follow Ashton’s twitter, but because the person ordering the quote actually gave credit to Ashton and even specified that it came from his twitter. Not to sound like a grandmother, but what is the world coming to? Are people really ordering the words of a guy that created Punk’d to put on their walls? Did I somehow miss the memo alerting the world that Ashton is one of our greatest minds?

I wasn’t really considering a quote decal, but now I’m starting to second guess myself. I’m going to shift my focus from finding art to scouring celebrity twitter accounts for other quotes to impart on my child. Oprah just created an account, surely she’s bound to spew greatness worthy of my walls. Oh! Or Shaq. Hell, his bio is VERY QUOTATIOUS, I bet in one day he twitters enough inspiring thoughts to fill my whole house. In fact, here’s a quote from him that I’m going to put above my bathroom mirror: “I c two twin sisters. Ug and lee Lol” Brilliant!

Are you brain dead?

err, I mean, Hi! How are you? Are you brain dead?

Sorry, sorry, I don’t mean to be so hostile but you have really been annoying me. Like a lot. Can I just get some things off my chest and maybe that’ll help with the situation? See, I’ve got some issues with your bathroom behavior and I don’t think I can take it much longer.

Let’s start with the bathroom lights. I know that we all want to be green and save the Earth and sometimes turning off the bathroom lights seems like a great way to do this, but do you think you could start checking to make sure the stalls are empty before you flick the switch to off? Because it sucks to be minding your own business and right when you go to reach for the toilet paper BAM DARKNESS. I feel like the logical next event will be my death at the hands of a serial killer that doesn’t want me to know he’s been following my bathroom habits and knows that when my pants are down I am at my weakest. If this continues I will be forced to shroud each of you in darkness and pretend to be said killer. I might end up in jail, but I bet you’ll never turn the bathroom lights out again.

I don’t know if you’re aware but we work in a fairly nice office building. An office building that doesn’t get much random germ-infested hobo foot traffic. Our bathrooms are surprisingly clean and yet you still flush with your foot. You do realize that forces me to either have to flush with my foot, which is sometimes impossible if I’m wearing heels or nice clothes, or touch the handle that you just dragged the bottom of your shoe across. Do you not see how this is wrong? I have always washed my hands after using the bathroom but, thanks to the bottom of your shoe, I now do it with scalding hot water and scrub scrub scrub. Lady MacBeth would be so proud. Now my hands hurt, so it’s time for you to stop with the foot flushing. Guess what, the only reason you need to foot flush is because you’ve gunked up the handle the last time you were in there! If you stop there would be no reason to foot flush! We can all be happy and I can stop hating you!

And sometimes, when you leave your things on the counter while you are in a stall, I think about taking them to make us even. Do you see what you’ve reduced me to?!?

Sincerely,
Regan

This post’s alternate title is: I’m going to hell! Wheee!

Alternate Alternate title: Exclamation Points a’plenty!

6:50 I’m trying to catch the 6:56 train out of SF, but there is a very large hippie bike ride that is making it impossible to cross 3rd street and actually get to the CalTrain station on time. Now look, I’ve got nothing against hippies or bike riders but when someone asks you what the ride is in support or protest of, have a better answer than “It’s for LIFE, man. LIIIIIFE.” I turn to the guy standing next to me as I watch the conductor start to close the doors to the train boarding platform from across the bike filled street and say “If I don’t make that train, hippie blood will be flow through the streets like a river.” And I mean it.

6:55 Start to cross the street despite hippies yelling at me that I’m messing with their vibe. “That’s not cool, we’re riding here!” Yeah, you’ve been riding here for the past 10 minutes and there isn’t another train for 40 minutes. Screw you and your vibe I’m crossing the damn street. I almost get run over.

6:56 Had to jump in the train’s doors as they were closing. Yell at one of the CalTrain employees further down on the platform “It’s not my fault! There were stupid bikers!” He yells back “I know!”

6:57 Set my purse on the seat next to me so no one can sit there as human interaction seems like a really bad idea right now.

7:00 Older Dude comes into car. Looks at the seat next to me and lingers long enough to make it obvious he wants the seat. Screw you Older Dude! There are a ton other seats, take one of them. He decides to take one across the aisle, yet facing me (stupid bullet trains). It is an ugly situation as now we are forced to look at each other. I give him my angry eyes.

7:05 Older Dude pulls out an assemble it yourself salad from Trader Joe’s. I get to watch as he uses his hands to scoop corn and black beans from their little plastic tray into the lettuce. Vomit into my mouth. He continues to assemble the salad still using his hands to mix it. His! Hands! Which have touched all the disgusting public CalTrain areas. Vomit more into my mouth.

7:08 Older Dude just pulled out a block of cheese. When was the last time you were leaving your house and wanted a snack so you just grabbed a whole block of cheese to nibble on while riding public transit? Yeah never, that’s what I thought.

7:15 He has been gnawing on the block o’cheese for a while now. I wonder if he remembers that he has that tasty Mexi-Germ salad.

7:20 He has remembered the salad! And is scooping the dressing from the little plastic container using his fingers. Don’t you dare put that finger in your mouth Older Dude! Oh fuck, you did.

7:22 Lid goes on the salad and he shakes it. Apparently, once dressing has been added to the mix, you can’t use your hands as salad tongs. Is it wrong that I am wishing the lid flies off and he gets covered in salad? I bet if it happened he would pick it off himself and eat it.

7:25 Great Older Dude just broke out a huge pocket knife. Leatherman big, not Swiss Army big. He’s cutting the cheese (heh, I am 12) and using the on board table as his cutting board. The on board table that I’ve seen homeless men snooze on. And woman change diapers on. I don’t think I have any vomit left in me so I dry heave into my mouth.

7:30 Older Dude chews really loudly and I might use his big knife against him if he doesn’t stop. The smacking! This is public transit Older Dude! Think of all your fellow passengers! Stop being so gross. I am a woman on the verge of a breakdown and you don’t want to be on the receiving end of it.

7:42 He has finished the salad. I don’t have to throw him off the train.

7:43 Really? You have room for more cheese? But most of the block is gone! Save some for your midnight snack Older Dude! You keep eating that cheese and you’re going to be all blocked up.

7:44 My stop is next!

7:46 Have made it! Goodbye Older Dude! You are disgusting! I bet you get some weird internal worm that eats its way from your stomach to your brain. That’s going to suck for you.

Folks, I would like to share with you a picture of what I accomplished yesterday morning:

Doesn’t look like much does it? Just me in my guest bathroom. I’m not even looking at the camera. But look again. Look at the bow on my shirt. Look at how perfect it is. You know why it looks so good? Because I. AM. AWESOME.

I spent at least 25 minutes tying it, untying it, and then retying it until it was perfect because I am obsessive like that. Then I got in my car to head to the office and flatten it beyond repair. So yeah, I accomplished nothing. A large chunk of my morning wasted on nothing. Stupid bow. Stupid me.

You’ll need the following:

1 person
1 pizza
1 order of bread sticks
3 little to go tubs of ranch dressing
a pinch of stupidity

1. Get your person really hungry. Preferably have them do 3 hours of exercise with no snacks.
2. Order them a pizza, and while you’re at it why not get some bread sticks too!
3. Have the hungry person, who is probably not thinking clearly, go pick up the food.
4. Make sure the pizza place gives them permission to take as much ranch dressing for dipping as they need.
5. Once home, allow hungry person to eat bread sticks until they can’t eat anymore. Once they reach “full” remind them that they have pizza they haven’t touched.
6. Watch the person eat a piece of pizza. They may seem skeptical and look like they know this is a bad idea, but that won’t stop them.
7. Allow a little bit of time to go by (probably about 4 hours). Place bread sticks back in front of them. Don’t forget the ranch!
8. Encourage the person to eat way more bread sticks than they even thought they could.
9. Watch as the person realizes that they have consumed almost all of the medium pizza sized order of bread sticks. Don’t they look a bit ill?
10. Now point out that two tubs of ranch dressing are also missing.
11. And remind them of the greasy, gooey cheese on the bread sticks.
12. Don’t let them forget that they ate some pizza too.
13. Viola! Your person should now be curled up on the floor in the fetal position, clutching at their stomach, while moaning incoherently. Job well done!

Remember how two weeks ago I left my wallet at home? And it sucked and I was pissed and had to live off of Chex Mix for lunch? Well, can we go back to that time? Because, as of this morning, my wallet is gone. Gone, baby, gone.

The jury is still out over whether it was stolen or not, but I can promise you that we searched high and low in the house for it, at the ass crack of dawn, and found nothing. Wait, that’s a lie because we did find something. we found that a good time can be had looking for a wallet, at the ass crack of dawn (have I mentioned that?). What is especially fun is watching your wild animal of a husband literally rip the rooms apart, including moving furniture and dumping pile of clothes out of the hampers and leaving them strewn across the bedroom floor. At one point he called to me “Hey, come hold this mattress up!” and “Let’s move this couch. Again.” Dude, if it wasn’t behind the couch the first time then it’s still not there. Uh, I mean, I love you honey. Thanks for helping me look.

After deciding that the wallet was not turning up, I got to cancel all of my credit cards, which was so much fun my body almost exploded. Boy, do I ever love credit card companies! They are so understanding and helpful when I asked for a replacement card faster than 7 to 10 business days. Their response of “I’m sorry but 7 to 10 business days is the fastest we can ship one out to you” was such a comforting lie that I feel great about not having access to any money for a week. I mean, who needs to have the option of buying lunch and putting gas in their car? NOT ME!

UPDATE

So that first part was written while I was at work. Now I’m home and I can’t even believe what I’m about to write.

Jparks found my wallet. In the dishwasher.

Yeah. The motherfucking dishwasher.

I guess it fell in when I was loading the dishes and, not realizing that, I turned the machine on. I now have a wallet full of really clean, yet totally useless credit cards.

I don’t even know how to follow up this grand act of stupidity. Do I wash other very important things? Like maybe my cell phone. Or marriage license. Or do I just let jparks make fun of me from here to forever?

Sheesh, even I amaze myself with how dumb I can be sometimes.