Seriously. I just got this email from Netflix.
We're sorry your DVD shipment was delayed
Dear Stephanie,
As you may know, we had issues with our shipping systems this week. As a result, we didn't ship DVDs to you in a timely manner, and you likely didn't receive email letting you know we got a DVD back from you. Our shipping systems are working again, and any outstanding DVD shipments are being mailed today (Friday).
We pride ourselves in delighting you, and we've let you down. We apologize, and we will issue a 15% credit to your account in the next few days. You don't need to do anything. Your credit will automatically be applied to your next billing statement.
Again, we apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for your understanding. If you need further assistance, please call us at ********.
-The Netflix Team
Uhm...excuse me? I'm completely baffled by this and have been reading and re-reading it for the past half an hour.
In truth, I haven't been so into watching movies of late. The two movies I have at home right now are heavy dramas that I haven't been so much in the mood to watch. Therefore, it hasn't been a rapid back and forth with the glorious red envelopes, so I hadn't been paying too close attention.
They apologized to me (and are giving me money!!) for something I didn't even notice they did wrong.
Be still my heart.
Monday, August 25, 2008
The one where I'll always have a place to sit
Things have been busy at work and in my head, so I know the posts are infrequent. All I can say it, deal with it. Ha.
For reasons not necessary to mention, I had to go shopping for a new toilet seat on Saturday.
A toilet seat isn't something one buys too many of in their lifetime. I know many of you have probably never purchased one at all. It's an odd thing to buy. This happened to be the second time I had to purchase one. Sigh.
As odd as it was, I successfully navigated Lowe's (without assistance) to the "Toilet Seats" section. Normally I can never find anything I need in Lowe's OR The Home Depot. They always move things and it's absolutely enraging. And of course it's the ONE time I don't need help, when I'm already carrying my shiny new toilet seat, that a very friendly woman approaches me and asks "Are you all set, ma'am"?
Ugh...ma'am.
All in all it was a successful, if not bizaar adventure.
And let's face it: Knowing I'm the only one to put my ass on that seat (except maybe the person at the factory whose job it is to test them?), is excellent knowledge to possess.
For reasons not necessary to mention, I had to go shopping for a new toilet seat on Saturday.
A toilet seat isn't something one buys too many of in their lifetime. I know many of you have probably never purchased one at all. It's an odd thing to buy. This happened to be the second time I had to purchase one. Sigh.
As odd as it was, I successfully navigated Lowe's (without assistance) to the "Toilet Seats" section. Normally I can never find anything I need in Lowe's OR The Home Depot. They always move things and it's absolutely enraging. And of course it's the ONE time I don't need help, when I'm already carrying my shiny new toilet seat, that a very friendly woman approaches me and asks "Are you all set, ma'am"?
Ugh...ma'am.
All in all it was a successful, if not bizaar adventure.
And let's face it: Knowing I'm the only one to put my ass on that seat (except maybe the person at the factory whose job it is to test them?), is excellent knowledge to possess.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Deep Olympic Thoughts
The breast stroke is weird.
The beach volleyball guys should not be required to wear shirts. The women aren't!
I don't like swimming (there's so much swimming!!), but I really enjoy watching volleyball, beach and indoor.
I'm sick of hearing about Michael Phelps already. I know he's breaking all these records and stuff and that's really cool and all but...it's really hard for me to get and stay excited about it. It's either one or the other (get or stay, that is).
Bella Karoly is nearly impossible to understand. Also, his mustache is fascinating.
Bob Costas does not age. He has whatever Dick Clark had, pre-stroke (bless his heart).
If I won a Gold Medal, I would be blubbering all over myself during the medal ceremony. Think about what an amazing accomplishment you would be celebrating. I would be sobbing. Some of these people don't even well up. Give me a break. Robots!!
Gymnasts are amazing. Holy shit.
The beach volleyball guys should not be required to wear shirts. The women aren't!
I don't like swimming (there's so much swimming!!), but I really enjoy watching volleyball, beach and indoor.
I'm sick of hearing about Michael Phelps already. I know he's breaking all these records and stuff and that's really cool and all but...it's really hard for me to get and stay excited about it. It's either one or the other (get or stay, that is).
Bella Karoly is nearly impossible to understand. Also, his mustache is fascinating.
Bob Costas does not age. He has whatever Dick Clark had, pre-stroke (bless his heart).
If I won a Gold Medal, I would be blubbering all over myself during the medal ceremony. Think about what an amazing accomplishment you would be celebrating. I would be sobbing. Some of these people don't even well up. Give me a break. Robots!!
Gymnasts are amazing. Holy shit.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Even more signs of the Apocalypse
I know you all remember this.
Well I have a few more additions.
"Living Lohan" (Thanks Rae. How could I leave it out?)
The "No Child Left Behind" Initiative
The Jonas Brothers. The only thing "Burnin' Up" is the bile in my throat. Way too skinny jeans, strange head bandanas and pretending to play instruments? All I can do is stare with my mouth agape until I'm pulled out of my trance by the screaming tweens. Yeah, and that shit is SOLD OUT.
LOL cats. Admittedly, I'm totally addicted and amused. But I know it's not good, not good at all. I realized it was sign of the end of days when I made one of my own out a picture of my parent's cats in the dryer. Whoa.
"High School Musical 3." THREE? Really? Why?!?!
"Million Dollar Listing." Where douche bags run free and it's amazingly hard to turn away.
How anyone can ever EVER think that Adam Levine is sexy. If sexy is a bag of bones in size 2 leather pants and a wife beater, then fine. Otherwise...NO.
That's it for now.
Well I have a few more additions.
"Living Lohan" (Thanks Rae. How could I leave it out?)
The "No Child Left Behind" Initiative
The Jonas Brothers. The only thing "Burnin' Up" is the bile in my throat. Way too skinny jeans, strange head bandanas and pretending to play instruments? All I can do is stare with my mouth agape until I'm pulled out of my trance by the screaming tweens. Yeah, and that shit is SOLD OUT.
LOL cats. Admittedly, I'm totally addicted and amused. But I know it's not good, not good at all. I realized it was sign of the end of days when I made one of my own out a picture of my parent's cats in the dryer. Whoa.
"High School Musical 3." THREE? Really? Why?!?!
"Million Dollar Listing." Where douche bags run free and it's amazingly hard to turn away.
How anyone can ever EVER think that Adam Levine is sexy. If sexy is a bag of bones in size 2 leather pants and a wife beater, then fine. Otherwise...NO.
That's it for now.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
A Magical Evening, Part 2 of 2
Ok so...my lady friend and I sat and watched the swing dancing "lessons" on the back deck of the ICA. I use the term "lessons" loosely because the instructors were less than precise about their direction. They were actually both a big mess. Everyone was confused and hilarity (at least to us) ensued.
There were all kinds of people partaking, some cute, and some utterly ridiculous. There were more fanny packs and tourists than I care to speak of.
It was while we were watching that I realized this was the most fun I had had in the longest time, and I couldn't stop laughing. I was wiping my eyes from the tears every few minutes. I could blame it on being extremely over tired, or on being so giddy that it was Friday, or maybe my lady friend and I were just a match made in heaven at that moment.
So while we were on the back deck, we both realized that Anthony's Pier 4 was next door and that neither of us had never been and didn't know too much about it but had heard (in general terms) that the food was good.
It all started innocently. We opened our menus to paruse the choices and I quickly realized how ridiculously over priced all of the entrees were. Sure, it included dishes like prime rib and lobster, but the prices were 50% more than they would be in any other restaurant Boston waterfront restaurant. Then I looked around and realized we were the youngest people there by about 20 years. Then I also realized that this is where people who wanted to throw away their money and eat shitty food came to dine. And I knew immediately that this whole experience would be a large waste of money.
But it would NOT be a waste of time. Oh no.
Our attitude at that moment is best described as a quote from a classic 80's movie: "Sometimes you just have to say 'What the fuck.'"
So that's what we did.
Our waiter was shaping up to be a complete moron. He didn't know what Lobster Newburgh (a regular dish on the menu, which we found what just bisque with a tail in it) was. Either it was his first day or he had a touch of the Down's. I'm not sure. But either way, we decided it would be fun to mess with his head.
And so our romatic dinner as a lesbian couple began. I, of course, was the dominant one, ordering for my lady friend and not letting her speak directly to the waiter. She would slip up occasionally, I would threaten her life in front of the wait staff and then she would pretend to cry a bit. It was all was very well played.
The looks we got from him (and the water guy) were priceless, and there are not words that exist in nature to describe them. We made it a night where we got our money's worth.
But we'll never go back to that stupid place again.
There were all kinds of people partaking, some cute, and some utterly ridiculous. There were more fanny packs and tourists than I care to speak of.
It was while we were watching that I realized this was the most fun I had had in the longest time, and I couldn't stop laughing. I was wiping my eyes from the tears every few minutes. I could blame it on being extremely over tired, or on being so giddy that it was Friday, or maybe my lady friend and I were just a match made in heaven at that moment.
So while we were on the back deck, we both realized that Anthony's Pier 4 was next door and that neither of us had never been and didn't know too much about it but had heard (in general terms) that the food was good.
It all started innocently. We opened our menus to paruse the choices and I quickly realized how ridiculously over priced all of the entrees were. Sure, it included dishes like prime rib and lobster, but the prices were 50% more than they would be in any other restaurant Boston waterfront restaurant. Then I looked around and realized we were the youngest people there by about 20 years. Then I also realized that this is where people who wanted to throw away their money and eat shitty food came to dine. And I knew immediately that this whole experience would be a large waste of money.
But it would NOT be a waste of time. Oh no.
Our attitude at that moment is best described as a quote from a classic 80's movie: "Sometimes you just have to say 'What the fuck.'"
So that's what we did.
Our waiter was shaping up to be a complete moron. He didn't know what Lobster Newburgh (a regular dish on the menu, which we found what just bisque with a tail in it) was. Either it was his first day or he had a touch of the Down's. I'm not sure. But either way, we decided it would be fun to mess with his head.
And so our romatic dinner as a lesbian couple began. I, of course, was the dominant one, ordering for my lady friend and not letting her speak directly to the waiter. She would slip up occasionally, I would threaten her life in front of the wait staff and then she would pretend to cry a bit. It was all was very well played.
The looks we got from him (and the water guy) were priceless, and there are not words that exist in nature to describe them. We made it a night where we got our money's worth.
But we'll never go back to that stupid place again.
Saturday, August 09, 2008
A Magical Evening, Part 1 of 2
A lady friend of mine (she knows who she is) accompanied me to the ICA last Friday night. It's taken me a while to collect my thoughts on the evening, as I was overwhelmed by how much fucking fun I had.
Ok so...for those of you not in the know, the ICA = Institute of Contemporary Art. I don't tell you this to insult your intelligence. I tell you this because both my lady friend and I had to look it up, yet neither of us had admitted this to each other.
I had gotten some free tickets to the ICA from a co-worker and was trying to think who would be fun to go with, who might be interested in weird shit (because, let's be honest, that's what most contemporary art is), and who I could tolerate for a few hours on a Friday night after a hellish work week (because that list of people is quickly becoming very, very short. It's me, it's not you).
On this particular evening, I got caught up at work, even though I was determined to leave at 4:30, but of course one of the owners, right before I was headed out, had to talk to me for 8 minutes about how he was unsatisfied with his most recent flight (that he had just returned from, that I had booked, because I'm basically a personal assistant now) and what I need to do differently next time. Instead of telling him to book his own fucking flight if he didn't like how I booked it, I just smiled and nodded and flew past him, as he was asking me while I was leaving before 5.
So I finally met my lady friend at the train station and we made our way over the the Seaport. We couldn't find the main entrance to the ICA because apparently even the way you get in the building has to be unexpected, unique and different. Sigh. Then we couldn't figure out what floor to go to but found one of the exhibit halls completely by accident, after almost entering some sort of strange sound studio/office where I'm pretty sure a couple of guys were fighting about cubicle culture.
So for the next hour, we acted like 12 year olds, making fun of all the ridiculous shit that someone, somewhere, has labeled as art. Some examples: a video of an underwearless black dude walking down a sidewalk; some pictures that the artist definitely took when he was high as a kite, in which he drew a "half pipe" with chalk on pavement and then took a series of pictures "skateboarding" on the chalk half pipe; and then another video of the same pothead artist spray panting...and then re-spray panting a wall. However, not all of it was ridiculous. There was a really cool exhibit that we got into which experimented with the possibilities of sound and space, but not without some requisite pussy jokes that couldn't be passed up.
The staff at that place is...something else. I got more dirty looks in that place than I've gotten in the last week combined. That's a lot of dirty looks!
We were pretty fed up with the ICA at this point, only because we thought it was pretty stupid and mildly boring. THEN...we saw it.
On the back deck of the building, over looking the water, swing dancing lessons were in full...swing.
Ok so...for those of you not in the know, the ICA = Institute of Contemporary Art. I don't tell you this to insult your intelligence. I tell you this because both my lady friend and I had to look it up, yet neither of us had admitted this to each other.
I had gotten some free tickets to the ICA from a co-worker and was trying to think who would be fun to go with, who might be interested in weird shit (because, let's be honest, that's what most contemporary art is), and who I could tolerate for a few hours on a Friday night after a hellish work week (because that list of people is quickly becoming very, very short. It's me, it's not you).
On this particular evening, I got caught up at work, even though I was determined to leave at 4:30, but of course one of the owners, right before I was headed out, had to talk to me for 8 minutes about how he was unsatisfied with his most recent flight (that he had just returned from, that I had booked, because I'm basically a personal assistant now) and what I need to do differently next time. Instead of telling him to book his own fucking flight if he didn't like how I booked it, I just smiled and nodded and flew past him, as he was asking me while I was leaving before 5.
So I finally met my lady friend at the train station and we made our way over the the Seaport. We couldn't find the main entrance to the ICA because apparently even the way you get in the building has to be unexpected, unique and different. Sigh. Then we couldn't figure out what floor to go to but found one of the exhibit halls completely by accident, after almost entering some sort of strange sound studio/office where I'm pretty sure a couple of guys were fighting about cubicle culture.
So for the next hour, we acted like 12 year olds, making fun of all the ridiculous shit that someone, somewhere, has labeled as art. Some examples: a video of an underwearless black dude walking down a sidewalk; some pictures that the artist definitely took when he was high as a kite, in which he drew a "half pipe" with chalk on pavement and then took a series of pictures "skateboarding" on the chalk half pipe; and then another video of the same pothead artist spray panting...and then re-spray panting a wall. However, not all of it was ridiculous. There was a really cool exhibit that we got into which experimented with the possibilities of sound and space, but not without some requisite pussy jokes that couldn't be passed up.
The staff at that place is...something else. I got more dirty looks in that place than I've gotten in the last week combined. That's a lot of dirty looks!
We were pretty fed up with the ICA at this point, only because we thought it was pretty stupid and mildly boring. THEN...we saw it.
On the back deck of the building, over looking the water, swing dancing lessons were in full...swing.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Gosh! It's so...glamorous!!
I realized I haven't written in a week. What is WAH-RONG with me??
I had a very magical evening last Friday night, one that deserves its own (if not two of it's own) blog entr(ies). So, stay tuned for that.
In other news, I think I've reached a new high with my hair. I know, I know. I'm writing about my hair. It's terribly superficial. Shame on me.
But anyway...my hair looks great lately. Sure it still drives me nuts and there are days, especially when it's 90 degrees outside, that I think I'm absolutely insane to have wasted going on two years of my life now growing it out. Also I have some stray grays which are...not that cute. But if I part it the right way, you can hardly see them. But I just fucking love it. I love twirling it while I fall asleep at night. I love running my fingers through it and making is shiny. I love the color of it.
I just love it!
Ok...I promise to write something more substantial soon. I PROMISE.
I had a very magical evening last Friday night, one that deserves its own (if not two of it's own) blog entr(ies). So, stay tuned for that.
In other news, I think I've reached a new high with my hair. I know, I know. I'm writing about my hair. It's terribly superficial. Shame on me.
But anyway...my hair looks great lately. Sure it still drives me nuts and there are days, especially when it's 90 degrees outside, that I think I'm absolutely insane to have wasted going on two years of my life now growing it out. Also I have some stray grays which are...not that cute. But if I part it the right way, you can hardly see them. But I just fucking love it. I love twirling it while I fall asleep at night. I love running my fingers through it and making is shiny. I love the color of it.
I just love it!
Ok...I promise to write something more substantial soon. I PROMISE.
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