My damn life.
My week, already, in 3 acts.
Part 1: UPS = Unwittingly Phucking Stupid
Mother ordered two last minute presents from Amazon last week. A CD for me, Morphine's final album The Night and a couple of movies for herself. They were, allegedly, delivered Friday at 5:28 PM as my mother found out...Sunday.
They had neither told her that they had shipped the gift or that it had arrived, but apparently UPS decided, in their infinite wisdom, to just drop our gift off on the porch with nary a door knock or ring. In the dark. In the hood. IN THE DARK.
Did I mention that both of us were in the house and I room in the living room? Did I mention that we don't have a backporch? Did I mention our door bells are so loud I can hear them in my sleep should I stay upstairs in my actual room?
We call Amazon and basically ask "WHAT THE FUCK?" Amazon directs us to UPS to whom we...parlay the same inquiry. After a long and pointless conversation with the service lady who tells mother not to be so pessimistic (about the fact that someone probably walked up on our porch and took the damn package because we've had worse stolen), we are sent back to Amazon. Indeed the package was delivered in this manor, mother is upset, my eye hurts and I'm sleepy and now the package is due today with specific note TO KNOCK ON THE GOD-BE-DAMNED DOOR.
To think I expected better of the League of Extraordinary Brown, because this kind of fuckery & buffoonery has never happened before. Who the hell just leaves a box on the damn door step and walk off in good conscious? Please believe that if the package doesn't come soon and I--I mean mom doesn't get a refund trucks will be burned. FEDEX OR DEATH!
Part 2: Shit Blows Up, Literally
Today I am awoken from the couch by mother...again. She tells me something is deeply amiss with the computer and that there is a burn smell from the room. I think she's joking because she simply must be--the computer does not merely burn because the screen had been flickering.
Lo and behold I walk into the room and my senses are assaulted by the smell of...burn. I say burning plastic but believe it was some form of burn.
She has unplugged the damn-ed thing and neither one of us can figure out what the hell is the matter. So she goes to Some Computer Place and they inform her that it sounds like the video card is about to die, which might account for the burn smell. They tell us to make sure we've installed all needed updates on the computer and mom relays this to me as she's on her way to work. I promise to put the computer back together then promptly roll over to go to sleep. And I keep good on my promise and am forced to take it apart again because, well, that didn't work. Let me tell you what else didn't work.
Part 3: Why the Fuck Do I Still Smell Like Weed?
Please note: I do not smoke. I do not even do candy cigarettes. I don't care if people smoke around me as much as it irritates me but chances are if I do get on you about smoking in my presence I probably didn't like you to begin with.
Now, on to that, before I fully wake up to go fix the computer, I get up and go to the bathroom. In the bathroom I hear knocking on my window. I wonder "Who the fuck?" and it is indeed my cousin who we'll call S.
In short, S pretty much kidnaps me and we go out to east Nashville, pick up her friend and drop her off (we're in Madison) at home, go to visit S's family whom we both hate, go to her apartment where her punk bitch boyfriend decides to light up in front of me (cigars & weed, we have such class), we go to Wal Mart and buy groceries, carry out some nefarious activities, and S drops me off at home then goes on her merry way. About half an hour after she leaves I discover I smell like I've just done 10 bricks in a row and I laugh then wonder if I'm on a contact high. I was still able to put the comp back together, realize that was useless, call my mother and tell her not to worry about that mari-hoo-wanna smell, then work the wireless on my laptop. I eventually figure out I should take a bath and change clothes, which I do.
I then proceed to watch children's programming, eat cookies, take a nap on my laptop, eat more cookies, then roll all over my mom after she comes home from work.
And now she's out seeing what the hell is wrong with our old ass Dell and here I am, typing with my hot pink nails. Oooh-wee the rest of the week best be better than this or I sense a Christmas spree.
December 23, 2008
My damn life.