Pizza Delivery Shenanigans

I spent this weekend taking a class on Stimulants and Intoxicants. It was a fascinating course, but it pretty much sucked the life out of me. I was there Friday from 6pm-10pm, and Saturday and Sunday 9am-5pm. In between the class I had to finish reading Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott and All the Kings Men by Robert Penn Warren, write an essay on As I Lay Dying by Faulkner and deal with the death of my internet (which is fixed now, thankfully.) To add to the insanity of the weekend, my good friend R asked me to help write his performance evaluation for work (he's a great coder but a terrible writer.) I had already committed to help him, so I couldn't exactly say no - especially when he told me it was due Monday morning. Needless to say, by Sunday evening I was pretty much exploding with stress and the thought of making dinner for the monkies was not exactly appealing. I decided ordering a pizza was a great idea.

Now I just have to say this: I don't normally order pizza for delivery. I'm a huge fan of take and bake pizza. It tastes way better and I get the added benefit of a house filled with the smells of a freshly baked pizza. It makes me happy inside. Even when I do order pizza, I stick to the Pipeline. They have this yummy asian chicken thing that my tummy rather enjoys. It costs a fortune, unfortunately, so this time I didn't really have the funds to order it. So, I decided to take Dominos up on that offer they've been blasting all over the TV. You know, the 'we know you all think we sucked before, so we're going to change our formula and try and get you to come back by offering a really cheap deal' commercials that have inundated the airwaves lately. I haven't had a Dominos pizza in at least 15 years, so I figured since I was going to order one anyway, I might as well get one from them.

Heh. That was such a terrible idea. I placed my order at 8:27pm (I know because that's when they charged my credit card according to the bank records.) I was told that it would arrive in 35-45 minutes. I should probably mention here that my house is not exactly easy to find. Well, technically it is easy, it's just that because there isn't a house number on it and the post office doesn't recognize the address as being real, it won't always come up in a gps locator. This means that I always have to tell the driver to call me when they're near my house so I can go outside and flag them down. No big deal, usually. I told the person who took my order on the phone to have the driver call when he/she/it was nearby and I'd come right out.

Around 9:30, I started to wonder why my phone hadn't rang. I decided I'd give the store a call and ask if my pizza had left the building yet. The man who answered the phone asked me for my name and when I told him he immediately started yelling at me. (No, I'm not exaggerating, he really was yelling at me. Loud enough the girls came in from the living room to find out what was up.) He said something along the lines of "Our driver was at the address you gave for 25 minutes driving around, and he called the number you gave but it was FAKE and for a fax machine." I replied to what he said by saying "Um, then your driver is lying to you, because I've been sitting here in my house at the address I gave you and I haven't gone anywhere, and my phone did not ring once." I was fairly irritated at his demeanor on the phone, and I probably shouldn't have called his driver a liar, but I couldn't think of anything else to say right at that moment.

Apparently calling his driver was the WAY WRONG thing to say because at this point the guy on the phone totally went off the deep end. He started screaming at me, telling me that I was the rudest person he had ever dealt with in his life. I tried to interrupt him repeatedly, but he kept screaming at me 'stop yelling! you're upset about a damn pizza, does this make sense?' I was thinking to myself 'um, douche, you're the one screaming.' but I couldn't of course say that because every time I would try and talk he'd say 'STOP INTERRUPTING ME OR I'M GOING TO HANG UP ON YOU!' After about 10 minutes of this, he finally started to calm down a bit, so I asked him 'So can you resend my pizza now?' And he said 'No, I'm concerned about the safety of my driver. I think you're a threat.'

Huh? You just spent 15 minutes screaming at me because I innocently inquired about my pizza and it's lack of delivery, and somehow I'm a threat? W T F

Oh, I should also mention this: the guy who was yelling at me? Yah, he was the General Manager of the store. I learned this when I tried to end the conversation with him by asking to speak with his manager. He replied 'I am the manager, bet you wouldn't have talked to me like you have been if you knew that! Keep being nasty and I'll ban you from ever ordering pizza here again.' Yay, a Pizza Nazi. As if I would want to order another pizza after being treated like that. I'm not a fan of paying to be treated like shit.

I told the guy that I'd just like my credit card refunded at this point (I was actually crying after his nastiness, which I think is a testament both to how much of a dick he was being, as well as the level of stress I was feeling at the time.) He actually refused to refund it. Spouted some crap about how I had placed a crank pizza order and I didn't deserve my money back. Right, because I enjoy ordering and paying for pizza's and not eating them. That makes sense.

I finally gave up and just hung up the phone. Ended up driving to McDonald's at 10pm to pick up happy meals for the kids and stewing myself in a pot of rage for a bit. Totally productive use of my time. I also called around to neighboring Dominos and got the name and number of the owner (the maniacal manager refused to give it to me) with the plan of spending all day Monday getting the guy freaking fired. I also posted my saga on facebook, looking for sympathy, which I got quite a bit of. One of my friends though, H, said something which I thought was quite brilliant. She said 'I often wonder, when situations like this occur, what is going on in the person's life to make them behave like that.' She said that maybe the guy was having an absolutely terrible day. Not that it would excuse his behavior, but maybe it would put it a bit in perspective.

I went to bed thinking about what she said. In the morning, when I made my phone call, I kept what she said in my mind. I talked to the owner (who was really nice, btw) and he confirmed the sentiment. He told me that the manager had been going through a really rough patch personally. Told me that this was the first complaint he had ever had about the guy and he was totally shocked. He said it didn't excuse the behavior, and he would get to the bottom of it.

About 30 minutes later I got a phone call from the manager. It was a completely sincere call too. He didn't try and lay blame on me at all. Said he was totally in the wrong and he felt really terrible. He knew he had made me cry and he was pissed at himself for the situation. For some reason, I believed him.

I don't know that there is a moral to this post. I guess it's just this: remember that we're all human. Sometimes, we fuck up.

The end.

Technology Dependence Blows Sometimes

So this weekend, my internet died. At first, I thought it was due to a bad modem connection; however after working with the cable company I learned that it is actually an issue with the transmission of data back to the cable company. Basically, I can receive data, but I can't effectively send it back. This means that I can't connect to the internet, nor can I use the on demand services of my cable box. 

Why is this a big deal? It's not like I need the internet or on demand in order to eat, sleep, or entertain my children. I can still walk the dog, and I can still drive my car. I can even still watch tv. You'd think I could just hold out until it can be repaired (Tuesday morning between 9-11am, if you're wondering.) Well, the thing is, we don't just depend on the internet for fun and entertainment anymore; we use it to complete tasks required for work and school, balancing our checkbook to ensure we don't bounce payments, paying bills. In my case, I'm required to post to this blog twice a week, yet I've had a problem doing this because I have no internet access. I missed the requirement of posting because I was unable to secure a connection easily to post. I also am supposed to be writing a paper which requires research. Without access to the internet for research purposes, I can't complete my paper easily. Dragging two kids out to Cheney to study in the library isn't really something I can do effectively.

This isn't to say I don't appreciate the use of the internet and technology, or the convience it provides for me. It just means that when it is no longer available to me, I realize how dependent I've become on it.

I'm truly dumbstruck.

NCLR: issues & cases > case docket > greene v. county of sonoma et al.

For once, I'm truly speechless.

Shame on you Sonoma County.

Way to fail, Mom

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I've been a follower of failblog for a long time. Usually, I get a good chuckle. Not this time though. This picture is disturbing to me on so many levels. I can't even imagine what this Mom was thinking. I can tell by the drink in her hand that it's most likely not beer (looks like a bug juice bottle if I had to guess), and I'm sure she thought it would be 'funny.' Thing is though, it's not. If this picture had showed up on my facebook status updates or made it's way into my inbox, I'd probably have felt inclined to report the mom. Or if not report her, at least inform her that she's an idiot of the highest order. I'd also be sure to remove her from my friends list. Such a classy move...not.

I really don't have a darn thing to say....or is that a lie

So, yeah. I've got really nothing to say today. I've usually got nothing to say.

Ok, that's a lie (I'm apparently prone to lying now.) I usually do have something to say. Those who know me well know I've almost always got an opinion on something. It's just that I don't have anything to say as a blogger. I'm only posting to this blog because I'm required to. There is no other reason. I'm not the type to spill the ideas I have out of my head in this sort of forum. It's just not my thing.

Plus, I'm a poet. I'm not a writer. Not in the way that other people are. I mean I sometimes will write things -stories for my girls, letters to the editor, research papers exploring the meaning of names in novels - but I don't consider myself a writer in the general sense of the word.

We were told we had to write on these blogs in order to develop a habit of writing every day. It's supposed to be solving the 'butt in the chair' issue for us. But the thing is, that is NOT how it works for me. Because I'm not a writer. I'm a poet. Even if I felt I needed to have the 'butt in the chair' issue solved for me by being forced into writing a poem a day, there is no way I'd be posting my half-assed, forced out, uninspired bullshit poems on a blog for the whole world to read. I don't share my poems until they're ready to be shared. And even after I think they're ready to be shared, I wouldn't want to share them on a public blog and basically publish them. That'd be rather counter-productive to the process.

Ugh. I did it again. I lied. I actually did have something to say.

Yay for negativity.

Cops: Dad left pot in kindergartner's Elmo bag | KOMO News - Breaking News, Sports, Traffic and Weather - Seattle, Washington | Offbeat

Cops: Dad left pot in kindergartner's Elmo bag |
KOMO News - Breaking News, Sports, Traffic and Weather
- Seattle, Washington
| Offbeat

Ok, so after reading this, I have a couple of questions.

First: how in the hell do you forget you put four ounces of weed in your kids backpack? I mean seriously. That's more than just a little baggy. That's like 4 freezer bags of the shit.

Second: why the hell didn't anyone smell it prior to the dad calling them about it? I mean seriously, if the kid had that much bud in his backpack it had to have been stinking up the classroom like a dead skunk.

Third: If you ARE dumb enough to leave your four ounces of weed in your kids back pack, do you seriously think it's a good idea to call the school and tell them you're coming to retrieve it? I've met a lot of potheads in my days (I am from Seattle after all) and while they may not always be the brightest bulb in the box, they're usually not idiots. It takes a special type of ganja-guru to manage that sort of stupidity.

Fourth: $100,000 bond for 4 ounces of pot? Seriously? I know it's more than what they'd deem appropriate for a 'personal use' misdemeanor, but $100,000? That seems a bit extreme. Some idiot hit a kid with his car while driving drunk the other day and only got a $20,000 bond, is being an idiot stoner really worse than that? FFS.

Blathering is Dangerous...Too bad I live for danger

I've decided to throw the whole 'thinking before I type' thing for this post out the window. I'm not going to even edit what I type for clarity; not because I don't care about being clear - I do. It's just that, right now, my brain is spinning too fast to come up with coherent thoughts.

Ok, I lied. The internal editor in my brain is still working on overdrive - even though I told it to shut the fuck up at least a dozen times. Maybe if I go to the mirror for a second, I'll silence the mofo who keeps me from saying what I want to say without hitting delete a dozen times....give me a second or four.

Damnit. Didn't work. Maybe I'll try and write my way into this one....except, I'm not sure how to even do that. Crap....Cussing is allowed on these things right? I hope so, 'cause if not, I'm screwed.

I know. I'll type the words I want to say, then if I decide I don't like how it's starting, I'll hit enter instead of delete.

Nah...screw it. I'll just say it and get it over with. Bragging is boring, but sometimes a girl's gotta do it anyway.  About an hour ago, after sitting on pins and needles in the land of limbo, I learned I've been accepted into grad school. I've been working towards this goal since 2003; I sacrificed a hell of a lot personally and financially in order to get here. I moved away from family and friends; I ate, slept and breathed this goal, day in and day out; I often sacrificed my own sanity for this moment; I'm actually still in a daze and wondering if this is all just a dream.

Phew. I feel better now.

I suppose everything starts somewhere...

I could lie and say this is my first time starting a blog. I could make up a bunch of wicked cool shit and wow you with my pithy humor and well thought out reasons for avoiding starting a blog before now; I'd probably be believable. Unfortunately, I have this thing about lying; I don't like it. Sure, lying can be useful occasionally, and it's great for telling a story, but the fact is I just can't do it. So, I won't be saying "this is my very first blog, please be gentle." Instead, I'm going to say this: I suck at blogs. I'm not good at randomly spewing my thoughts out for the whole world to see; I'm terrible at deadlines and upkeep of things which have no 'real' boundaries or timelines; I'm bored of bragging.

Seriously. I mean yeah, I know, I'm a writer. I'm supposed to write. It's in my blood, right? It's a part of my soul and when I don't let it out a bit it gets despondent. Crap. It's all crap. I write, so what? I write when I'm inspired; I write when I get excited by a random conglomeration of words; I write when I feel like it. I rarely, if ever, write just because I'm supposed to. 

Ok, that's sort of a lie; I need to reword this. I do write because I'm supposed to, sometimes. I write when one of my professors tells me to for a grade; I write when my girls need a letter explaining why they won't be in class once a week for counseling; I write comments on the rent check so I have "proof" I paid. But I don't record my thoughts in text daily because I have to; it's not who I am. 

Plus, like I said before, I'm no good at it. I forget to log in for weeks at a time; I can't come up with anything worthy of writing (or I can but one of the girls has forbidden me to share the story); I suck at the hook. In general, this is just so not my thing.

Why then, you're probably wondering, I am I writing this blog now? Pretty simple answer, really. Because this is one of those "supposed to" things. You know, for a grade?  

Yep, this is straight out of the "you must complete this task or suffer the consequences" moments. I'm doing this only because I'm "supposed" to. 

That's not to say I don't give a damn in the process of course; I completely "get" the point of the task. It's just, like I said before, I can't do this if I don't begin it honestly. It's better that way.

I'm going to make no promises on the content of this blog - I've not developed a single theme I'll follow. I'm just going to log on, frequently, and type what comes into my head. 

We'll see how it goes. This is all a work in progress.