When you come to a fork in the road ... Take it. - (Yogi Berra)
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
I'm just gonna go ahead and recite this...
"Thank you for calling (an online golf store). This is Amy, how can I help you?"
"Hi Amy. I'm calling about an order I placed today. It appears the item is now out of stock. Can I change it to something else so it can ship quickly?"
"Sure. Let me go ahead and look at your order. Do you have the order number?"
"Yeah, it's blah-blah-blah."
"Thanks, lemme just go ahead and bring that up. (tippity-tap... pause....) Okay, here we go."
(I proceed to tell her what I want instead)
"Okay, I'm just gonna go ahead and change that for you right now. (tippity-tap... pause... tippity-tap... pause...) I see you've ordered from us before. Did you want to use your discount code from your last purchase?"
(Discount code? Yes, of course!)
"Okay, I'm just gonna go ahead and plug that in for you. I see we're using a different ship-to address this time. Do you want this to be a permanent change in your account?"
(Yeah, whatever. Lemme guess, you're gonna go ahead and...)
"Okay, I'm just gonna go ahead and change that for you right now. Will there be anything else I can do for you Ms. Berry?"
(No, but I'm guessing you're about to say that your gonna go ahead and...)
"Okay, I'm just gonna go ahead and put your order through right away. It should ship tomorrow."
"Thanks, Amy. You go ahead and enjoy the rest of your day."
"Uh... thank you. And thank you for shopping with (an online golf store)."
Just kidding. There were no posts. I really am that lazy.
Well, that's not true. I have all kinds of excuses for not having posted since November. You see, a few days after posting last, Main Man and I accidentally drove to the dog shelter, and accidentally adopted Woody, the Wonder Pup.
I say "accidentally", because the original plan was to install a fence in the back yard before we went looking for a pooch. And the fence isn't scheduled to go up until May or June-ish.
But we couldn't help ourselves. I mean... he's Woody, for crying out loud. Woody. Yes, the Wonder Pup. In the flesh. There he was, just waiting for us. What else could we do, right?
He's a 15-month-old (or so) hybrid... some German Shepherd, some Golden Retriever, and some mystery breed... and he is, literally, the smartest pooch in the world. Also, his tail is so powerful, it can actually generate electricity for a small village if he is feeling especially happy about something. I am guessing it will also be quite a fabulous fly swatter come summer.
When the outside world thaws, I will be taking out my camera and annoying the fuck out of Woody with it. As a result, laziness aside, I will be annoying the fuck out of everyone I know by posting tons of pictures of Woody online.
Yeah, so anyway... back to my excuse. I have been very busy training the Wonder Pup over the winter. Every free minute has been spent studying canine behaviour and practicing stuff on Woody. I have so enjoyed doing this, that I've decided to make a career out of it. Seriously. It is my destiny.
So there you have it. I'm gonna train dogs for a living. I'm so gonna. I have to. It's the best thing in the whole world.
In the meantime, American Idol has snuck up on us again, and yes... I'm still watching. I've been fighting the urge to post about it, seeing as I promised last year that I wouldn't do it again. There also appears to be less stuff to laugh at this season, as everyone appears to be really good, and not so pickable-onable.
Step-Son's psycho bitch mom got married. Not to the guy she was engaged to this past summer, mind you. No, that didn't work out, apparently. Instead, she seems to have married a South American she used to know a few years ago. Or many few years ago. Or something. Who the fuck knows.
I wasn't kidding when I tried to illustrate her instability and fucked-in-the-head-ness in previous posts.
So here's how this love story unfolded. All summer, during his visit with us, Step-Son referred to this one guy... let's call him Dave... as his mom's fiance. He seemed to really like the guy, and appeared to spend a lot of time at his house. Dave has 2 girls about the same age as Step-Son, and the kids became fast friends.
Main Man and I remained unconvinced that all could possibly be as hunky-dory as Step-Son made it sound, because... well, because we know his mom. But we hoped. We honestly wished and hoped that Dave was this beacon of potential normalcy in Step-Son's everyday life.
Step-Son went home in early September, and then he and psycho-bitch (let's just call her PB for short, shall we?) fell off the face of the earth for a couple of months. No contact whatsoever. Oh well... nothing new to us.
When we finally got to speak with Step-Son this week, he announced his mom got married. Main Man, sensing a typical PB scenario has probably occurred, actually paused and asked: "To who?"
Ah yes... here it is....
"Jimmy?? Who's Jimmy?"
In a bored monotone: "My mom's new husband."
"What's his last name?"
"(sigh) I don't know. He doesn't speak English."
No.... of course he doesn't.
Here's how it's gonna go down: This thing will not last, it'll all be Jimmy's fault, and PB will create yet another emotionally charged drama to drag Step-Son through. She will move again, change jobs again, and begin the hunt for the next guy.
Sadly, there is nothing Main Man can do to bring Step-Son here. And there's nothing I can do to help the situation, besides roll my eyes and shake my head.
What I can do, however, is have some fun with it. I am accepting bets starting now. Please feel free to venture your best guess as to how long the PB and J union will last. The prize, as usual, is a Pop-Tart, which I will eat in your honour.
Wow. It's been so long since I last attempted to log into my blogger account, I actually forgot my password.
The last time I posted, I was a newly-wed... a blushing bride. We had just moved into our new house, and fumbled our way through Step-Son's summer visit. Wait... are you still laughing at the "blushing bride" reference? Hmmph.
Anyway, some recent events have directed my attention back to this blog. I read some of my old posts and thought, "hey... this really was fun!" Except for the American Idol stuff. I don't think I'll be doing that again.
The things I want to focus on now are.... are.... wait, sorry.... I've just noticed the amount of snow suddenly falling from the sky right now. There's like, TONS of it. It's really pretty. And hypnotising.
What was I saying? Ah yes... focus. My priorities these days are mostly related to.... hey, have you ever driven at night during a snow-fall? Don't you think the headlights on the snowflakes makes it look all Star-Trekky as you're moving forward? Now THAT's hypnotising!
Right, right. Back to this. Focus, focus. Oh, and hey! Have I mentioned my back yard gives way to some undeveloped land? Yeah, woods and all. And there are deer!
Look, I'm sorry, but clearly you're just not into reading this right now. You're all over the place, and it's a bit distracting. Man, that's a lot of snow. It's very Christmassy though. I wonder if it'll melt by tomorrow?
It's been a long, hard summer. I'm the first to admit that this visit with Step-son was very likely one of the most challenging things I've ever had to journey through.
I am mentally and emotionally drained. Tomorrow morning, Main Man and I are flying Step-son back to the Bahamas to his mom. I don't usually accompany Main Man on these hand-off trips, but this time, I'm in need of some serious fun and escape.
So we're meeting up with about a dozen friends tomorrow night in Nassau for dinner. Friends I haven't seen in 7 years. Friends with whom I laugh until I pee my pants.
There have been a few hilarious incidents I've wanted to share here over the past few weeks, but I never seemed to find the time to post them. One in particular still causes me to blush and giggle. In a nutshell, it involves a customer whose last name is "Fuchs", and I emailed him a couple of times.... and types his name.... incorrectly.... you know where this is going.
Another involved a round of golf played with a very young and VERY shy young man. He was one of the teenagers that work at the club. I was teeing off alone early one day, and we were paired up at the last minute. I was walking the course, but he was driving a cart. The ground was very wet, and every time he brought the cart to a complete stop, it would skid for about 2 seconds. The skid would result in the most geniune, loud, and unfortunate fart sound ever made. Like a whoopie cushion attached to a megaphone. And every time, as I watched him disembark from the cart, I just knew he wanted very badly to explain that the sound was coming from the cart, not him. But he was just too shy to mention it. And I enjoyed the whole scene way too much to bother putting him at ease.
Tell you what... I'll go decompress in Nassau, and then I'll come back and tell you more. mmmkay?