and HP made some claim about user damage and liquid spills and bits of Pop-Tart stuck under the G key

I got an email from HP about a week ago telling me they’d received my HP Pavillion Laptop Lover and that I could click a link to check on the status of my lover. So I, of course, immediately clicked the link and it said

Hewlett-Packard is currently repairing or replacing your product. Your replaced/repaired product is scheduled to arrive at your location on the expected delivery date listed below. Expected Delivery Date: not available.

And then I clicked on the link again the next day and it said

Hewlett-Packard is currently repairing or replacing your product. Your replaced/repaired product is scheduled to arrive at your location on the expected delivery date listed below. Expected Delivery Date: not available.

And then I clicked on the link the next day and it said

Hewlett-Packard is currently repairing or replacing your product. Your replaced/repaired product is scheduled to arrive at your location on the expected delivery date listed below. Expected Delivery Date: not available.

And then I clicked on the link every four minutes for five days and it said

Hewlett-Packard is currently repairing or replacing your product. Your replaced/repaired product is scheduled to arrive at your location on the expected delivery date listed below. Expected Delivery Date: not available. Hewlett-Packard is currently repairing or replacing your product. Your replaced/repaired product is scheduled to arrive at your location on the expected delivery date listed below. Expected Delivery Date: not available. Hewlett-Packard is currently repairing or replacing your product. Your replaced/repaired product is scheduled to arrive at your location on the expected delivery date listed below. Expected Delivery Date: LEAVE US ALONE TO FIX THE MOTHERF**KER, LADY! Hewlett-Packard is currently repairing or replacing your product. Your replaced/repaired product is scheduled to arrive at your location on the expected delivery date listed below. Expected Delivery Date: not available.

And then I clicked the link last night and it said

Hewlett-Packard is currently trying to reach you regarding your repair. Your replaced/repaired product is scheduled to arrive at your location on the expected delivery date listed below. Expected Delivery Date: not available. Service charge: $852.00.

And then I passed out.

And then I came to and spent the next seventeen years on the phone with HP. And HP made some claim about user damage and liquid spills and bits of Pop-Tart stuck under the G key and some other junk.

And I calmly explained how careful I am with my laptop and other technological thing-os and how I couldn’t possibly have spilled anything on it, and how I’m sure they’re right and their lab is a secure, contained, dry facility and no, I didn't think their technicians were eating Pop-Tarts, but that I'd be happy to send a box and how I’m a single mom of three and oh, yes, I did so play the single mom card and how, no, I don’t travel much, as I care for my ailing, elderly next-door neighbor who lives in an iron lung, and no, I never take my laptop anywhere, how it sits in a climate controlled room all the time that is secured by both retinal and voice print technologies and how I only ever use it to adjust the iron lung settings, and how, yes, my neighbor is looking slightly bluish, and how, no, that's not technically HP CEO, Mark Hurd's fault.

And then the HP guy very quietly asked me to please stop talking, and that if I would stop talking, they would repair it for free and expedite its shipping back to me.

while I was feet in stirrups, paper gowned and having my pap smeared

The Girl and The Child Formerly Known as the Kindergartner, ?  I'm seriously considering re-dubbing them Frick and Frack.  These kids.  Urgh. 

How smart am I?  I made appointments for both of their well-child checks, to include shots, eye exams and hearing exams at the same time as my Feet in Stirrups Exam.  Ridiculous much?  We all have the same doctor, because I thought I was being efficient, but really?  I was being...what?  I don't know, there probably needs to be a new word for this level of dumb.

While I was feet in stirrups, paper gowned and having my pap smeared, The Girl and The Kindergartner were CHEATING ON THE EYE EXAM, which I imagine went like this:

The Girl is finished with her well-childing and now it's The Kindergartner's turn.

Nurse: Just tell me which letters you see on the next line.

The Girl [whispering]:  A C Z

The Kindergartner: A C G!

The Girl: Z, zzzzz

The Kindergartner: A Z! G

The Girl: No! Alpha Charlie Zulu!

The Kindergartner: Wha??

Apparently, he had to repeat the eye exam three times, and the nurse finally had to sequester The Girl in lockup to get them to quit cheating.  Here's the really dumb part though, The Kindergartner?  20/20 eyesight.

But, wait!  That's not all! 

The hearing exam had to be restarted once and repeated once, because the first time they cheated again, with The Girl surreptitiously raising one finger to the Kindergartner to indicate when she thought the headphones beeped on his head.  The second time we had to start over because The Kindergartner kept forgetting to listen for the beeps. 

                                                                 And somewhere in there, we had an earthquake.  Oh, yes we did so.

ears are already gross

Here's the thing about me.  I'm pretty much a Go With the Flow Girl, a Fly By The Seat of My Pants Chick.  I just don't see some of the manifestations of the me chaos sometimes.  Until I have a houseguest and find myself saying things like: "if you turn on the bedside lamp, just be sure to prop the light bulb against the metal bracket deal, so it doesn't catch fire" in the way that some would say "extra towels are on the sink". 

All of the lamps in my house are broken.  Seriously.  All of them.  I knock them over, one piece breaks, I MacGyver it up so it'll still light a room (even if it's now on a slant and the light bulb sags to one side). 

But that's not all.  That's not even really very close to all. 

I broke my glasses, and instead of buying new ones, I took an old pair of frames, popped the good lenses out of the broken ones and filed the edges of the good lenses down with a nail file until the good lenses fit in the unbroken frames.  MacGyver who?  I have a pair of pants that actually has staples in the hem (fine, maybe I have three pairs).  And I once fixed the Adolescent Boy's earbuds with a tiny piece of chewed chewing gum.  MacGyver who?  Ew?  Bah.  It's going in his ear.  His ear.  Ears are already gross.

Because there's no cable outlet in my kitchen, when I want to bake something and watch TV at the same time, I get a small TV and 25 foot cable from the closet, unhook the coaxial cable from the living room cable box, put the small TV on the kitchen counter and string the long cable from the small TV to the living room cable box.  To change channels I have to stand on the kitchen table bench and lean waaay over to the left to point the remote at the living room cable box, then lean waaay over to the right to look on the small TV to see what I've switched it to. 

At least two of every set of dishes I've ever owned gets broken/chipped/lost/used under a plant, so now I have about 30 plates in my house representing at least seven different patterns.  Not a set of four among them.  I'm always out of spoons, saran wrap, dishwasher detergent and either toilet paper, napkins or paper towels.    I don't own any potholders, I use folded up tea towels instead.  I use cookie sheets for pot lids, and usually, I do not have any cleaning products in my entire house.  I can clean my house, top to bottom, with baking soda, bleach, vinegar and dish soap.  MacGyver who?  I don't own an electric beater, so I use a blender to make whipped cream.  But I own seven whisks. 

The Girl keeps her underwear and socks and swimsuits in a drawer in the buffet in the kitchen, because there are no drawers in her room.  I keep the Tylenol in the spice drawer and a broken laptop in the lazy Susan corner cabinet. 

I drop cupcakes. 

And I don't really have any hope of not being this way.  It's DNA, people.  Don't judge.  When I was growing up, sometimes a chair in our house would break.  If a leg broke off, my mom would prop the chair up on the leg and then remember not to sit there.  If the wicker seat broke on a dining chair, she'd take a record (like, an LP vinyl thing-o), fold a piece of pretty fabric over the square album cover, set it on top of the broken wicker and remember not to sit there.  MacGyver who? 

We used shampoo in the washing machine when she ran out of laundry soap, we brushed our teeth with baking soda when we ran out of toothpaste and we used liquid laundry soap to wash the dishes when we ran out of dish soap.  She still doesn't own potholders, but she does have at least four whisks in her kitchen.  But she maybe keeps them in the cookie jar.  Next to the Tylenol.

they were FINE because this happens ALL THE TIME!

Some Q's and some A's on the brand new Audi incident and why I think the Audi owner may have once given me free cupcakes.

Q: Is everyone okay?
A: Yes.  The Girl and The Child Formerly Known as The Kindergartner,  took it all in stride and when I rolled down the window to tell him I'd follow him off the road to empty my wallet into his brand new Audi, The Girl helpfully shouted "Mama! You hit a guy again!"

Q: Stu asked:  Does Tech Support understand the true depths of your propensity to injure all things automotive?
A:  Stu, is it possible to understand the true depths of my propensity to injure all things automotive?  Is it?  I think only State Farm understand the true depths.  And Tech Support?  Left the keys to his brand new automobile with me while he's in India.  He totally likes me. 

Q: Debbie asked: Was he at least cute?
A: Um.  Yeah-huh.  Not as cute as Tech Support though.

Q: Aunt Becky  asked: Was he a total douche about it?
A:  He was really very nice about it, and asked if my kids were freaked out, at which point The Girl helpfully shouted out the window how they were FINE because this happens ALL THE TIME!

[Him will be played by my online trivia friend striker]

Him: did you offer to pay out of pocket?
Him: wont go on either person's insurance that way [I totally put that apostrophe in there for him, because I don't want you to judge him for not.  But then I said this, so I guess I kind of do]
Me: yeah, i gave him all my info, he said he'd call me today, but then didn't, maybe he just decided to pay for it himself
Me: that's possible, right? this guy had a lot of tattoos, maybe the car was stolen
Him: lol
[Censored here for political correctness.  I wasn't being politically incorrect, of course, but I don't want you to know that I wasn't outraged by what might have been some political incorrectitude.]
Me: i think he gave me new cupcakes once when i dropped the ones i picked out because i was carrying way too much at once, totally my fault, still gave me new ones
Him: what??
Me: what what?
Him: he gave you cupcakes after you hit him?
Me: no, no, some tattoo'd trader joe's employee gave me free cupcakes, and the guy i hit was tattoo'd and worked at trader joe's as well, and i just thought maybe it was the same guy, but I can't be sure
Him: so this is how you repay the favor?  hit his car?
Me: he gives away cupcakes and doesn't charge for dents, i guess
Him: marry him
Me: he was married already
Him: maybe he isn't [put that apostrophe in as well] happily married, just looking for the right redhead
Me: i am the wrong redhead in like ten ways
Me: beginning with dropping cupcakes and hitting his car
Him: you do know guys like that right?
Me: like what?
Him: women who drop cupcakes
Me: then why haven't i dated more?
Me: because i drop cupcakes all the time, figuratively and literally
Me: and Tech Support did not like it when i spilled an entire huge glass of ice water on him at a really nice french restaurant and then almost set my napkin on fire in the fire pit trying to help him
Me: it was the first and only time he let me pay actually
Him: you did that?
Me: yeah

the guy in the brand new Audi who was not in your blind spot

Hello.

Did you ever have that day where you’re checking for a car in your blind spot really well and you still run into someone in your blind spot?

No, me either.

But did you ever have that day where you run into the guy in the brand new Audi who was not in your blind spot, but was right out in the open where you could totally see him, in his brand new Audi, but where you did not see him because he was not in your blind spot, which is where you were looking, to be sure you wouldn’t hit anyone, in, say, a brand new Audi?

Oh yes I did so.

anyway, how’s india? is there a Gap there?

Yesterday, I was talking (read: IM’ing) with Tech Support, who’s in India with veddy veddy bahd Internet serwice, thees serwice…eet does not verk tree-kwahrters of de time, just goes ouht. (Yes, whatever, he doesn’t actually type with an accent, but I do read it with an accent.) He asked if there’d been any election news.

Um… idk.

I actually typed what election? And then, thank gah, realized, in time to delete, that there’s, like, an election coming up. For the president. Or something. Honestly, I thought it was over, that Obama had beaten Clinton and we were done. Is that not what happened? McCain is seriously still running? Are we sure?

So instead I said something like what’s that? sorry, you must’ve gone through a tunnel (on IM?) and your message broke up, anyway, how’s india? is there a Gap there?

People are sometimes surprised to find out how sort of uninterested I am in presidential politics, I talk a good game of seeming to sort of be the type of person who ought to be all up in the politics shit. But really? Bah. Who cares.

I’ve got this whole diatribe I can spin when needed about how the US presidency is irrelevant in insubstantial in the every day lives of people (except Iraqis), and that we all ought to mostly care about more local politics, like the mayor or assembly people (assembly persons? assemblers?) and state legislators.


This works really well until some arsehole responds with Yeah? Who’s the mayor of San Diego? And I’m all um, HOLY HELL THERE’S A BEE ON YOUR NECK!

And then if the arseholes persist on talking about local politics, I go all recycling on their asses. I tell them that California is about to start charging $.25 per bag at the grocery store so that people start using reusable canvas bags, which, I’m pretty sure is true, but I might’ve also just made it up. Seems like not a bad idea though.

i'll keep poking the bear and see what happens

Guest post from Pierced Niece.

Good news, people! I've almost driven her over the edge to becoming a little closer to Bridezilla. I'll keep poking the bear and see what happens. I'm totally tempted to pepper some editorial comments into this letter, but I won't, because I'm not that brave.

Dear Faithful Katydidnot fans:

After reading i sound like a complete moron because i'm trying like hell not to become Divorcezilla I decided it was time to clear a few things up.

My Aunt Katydidnot is my favorite Aunt ever (sorry others, you will just have to get over it). Since the age of I was born, she has been pretty much my favorite person in the entire universe. She lived with my parents, so we spent much all of our time together. In middle school, she took me to work with her in her purple SUV. I wore her scarves, chewed her dark pink Extra gum that they don’t sell anymore and plastered on her favorite raisin color lip gloss even though it looked totally ludicrous on my twelve year old lips. She was is my hero and she taught me better than growing up to be Bridezilla.

So, these are the things, that all of your comments got wrong:

1. I. Am. Not. A blushing bride. Blushing brides make me want to vomit, vomit, clean it up with comet.
2. I refuse to spend $30,000 on anything other than a house. My engagement ring cost less than $1000 because I specifically told my fiancé that spending more than that was retarded, literally.
3. My. Wedding. Is. One. Day. Actually, it will be more like twenty minutes of vows and six hours of fun and dancing with my favorite people in the universe. I will never spend a ridiculous amount of money on this one day. All I care about is the words of our vows and the honesty behind them.
4. We are buying a house, and getting a down payment from some pretty awesome people and yes, those awesome people, are also supposed to pay for the wedding. So, we are not spending a lot, because the house means much more to us so that we can start our life together.
5. The idea of eloping is growing more on me every day as more people try to tell me what to do with OUR wedding.

It’s our wedding and we are going to do whatever we want, within reason. I am not a stupid twenty-two-year-old girl who blushes. Well, maybe I do, but definitely not about a wedding. Ok well maybe I blush about a wedding, but, I. Am. Not. A. Blushing. Bride.

Vomit, vomit, clean it up with comet.

Sincerely,

Pierced Niece who no longer has any piercings.

P.S. the colors were not peach (vomit) and orange, they were hot pink and orange.

i sound like a complete moron because i'm trying like hell not to become Divorcezilla

My new very favorite TV show is Bridezillas on WE TV. I'm embarrassed that I even get that channel, but there you have it. The show goes like this:

Bridezilla: JUST GIVE HIM THE MOTHERF**KING CREDIT CARD AND BOOK THE TRIP FIRST CLASS OR DON'T. COME. HOME.
Stupid Man: Yuh-huh.
[She stomps out.]

Bridezilla: Can't we close the bar during dinner for everyone except the bridal party?
Unsuspecting Wedding Planner Guy: Um. No.
Bridezilla: Why not?
Unsuspecting Wedding Planner Guy: Because that would be incredibly rude. And pretty weird.

Stupid Man takes Bridezilla out for a romantic dinner where they had their first date and gives her a platinum and diamond wedding band.

Bridezilla: WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? IS THIS A F**KING JOKE? I'M NOT WEARING THIS PIECE OF CRAP! YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE THE F**KING DIAMONDS! I'M NOT WEARING THIS AND YOU'RE GOING TO BUY ME A NEW ONE.
Stupid Man: Yuh-huh.
[She stomps out.]

Bridezilla [ripping her veil to pieces two days before the wedding]: WHAT THE F**K IS THIS? THIS ISN'T WHAT I ORDERED! I'M SENDING IT BACK LIKE THIS! [shred] AND THIS! [shred] AND THIS! [shred] AND THEN YOU KNOW WHAT?
Scared Sh*tless Bridesmaids: What?
Bridezilla: I'm going to sue them! And they? Are going to end up paying for the whole! f**king! wedding!


Brenda Poppins and Pierced Niece are getting married. (Not to each other.) (Not that there would be anything wrong with that.) But still. They're both getting married, and I have a gigantic hole in my tongue from how I bite it all the time so as not to say the Bitter Divorcee stuff I think. I find myself in these conversations where I sound like a complete moron because I'm trying like hell not to become Divorcezilla. And instead I seem like I'm either drunk or delusional.

Her: Maybe I'll change my colors to peach and orange.
Me: Sure. Like Creamsicles. Oh! You could serve Creamsicles instead of wedding cake!
Her: Yeah, no. That's abusrd.

Her: Can you go with me to try on wedding dresses?
Me: Sure... Wait. Wha...? Can I try some on too?
Her: Uh, I guess.

Her: I don't know if I should have blah blah in the wedding party.
Me: Me either. Can I be a bridesmaid?
Her: Yeah, no. That's absurd.
Me: Really?
Her: Yeah. You're really old. And divorced and stuff.

And then there's some of this:

Her: And that'll cost $4,000 per yada yada. And those will cost $24 each plus $70 each if we want blah blah. And that place wants a $5,000 deposit for etc. etc. And that'll add $2,000 if we have a something something. And do you think $20,000 is too much for bzz bzzzz bzz? And then if we add that it'll be another $8,000 for the lalalala.
Me: Uh-huh. Or you could elope and donate the money to the homeless.
Her: "?"

And I just feel really badly for these two lovely blushing (barf) brides-to-be for whom I am either a) the person they live with and the closest female relative within 3,000 miles or b) their very favorite aunt (yes-huh, too bad the rest of ya).

And even though I feel badly about it, I just kind of want one of them to turn into this chick so that at least then I could have some fun.

So my engagement wish for both of them is a good gay best friend. That would work I think.

are you sure you're really, like, a human being? from earth?

Tech Support left on Thursday morning for India for a month, leaving me, here, with a broken HP Pavilion Laptop Lover. That being the case, after I dropped my Tech Support off at the airport, I drove home and promptly found myself on an IM chat date with another Tech Support.

Here's the thing though. It wasn't nearly as satisfying being with my Tech Support. The other Tech Support was, like, all business. In fact, I'm suspicious that HP Tech Support purports that you are chatting with a Live! Qualified! Tech Support Representative, when, if fact, you are interacting with some tech support database.

L!Q!TSR: Hello Kate. My name is Sanjiv. Thank you for contacting HP Total Care.

Oh, yes-huh, he did so say Sanjiv. And this was the only reason I thought he might be human, because it would be way too politically incorrect for HP to program their tech support database to give Indian names.

L!Q!TSR: How may I be of assistance today?
Me: my laptop won't turn on. i push the power button and it goes kssphht.
L!Q!TSR: I am sorry to hear of this difficulty you are having.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Me: so now what?
L!Q!TSR: You have stated that your notebook will not power ON. Is that correct?
Me: uh. yeah.
L!Q!TSR: Thank you for the confirmation.
Me: are you an actual person?
L!Q!TSR: Yes, Kate. I am.
Me: alright. how many of these chat deals do you do at once? a bunch?

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Me: right, so what now?
L!Q!TSR: I am going to give you the steps you will need to take. Is that alright with you?
Me: uh. sure. hit me.
L!Q!TSR: 1. Unplug the AC adapter 2. remove the battery 3, 4, and 5. [blah blah blah, a bunch of useless junk to apparently qualify me as not SpongeBob's friend Patrick, duh] 6. try to power ON the nomputer.
L!Q!TSR: Do you feel comfortable performing these steps?
Me: uh. sure. i guess i can try to perform those steps. they seem really hard, but i'll give it a go.
L!Q!TSR: Thank you for the confirmation.
Me: are you sure you're really, like, a human being? from earth?
L!Q!TSR: Yes, Kate. I am a person. Please take the above steps and inform me of the result.
Me: okay. well, so, where are you? on earth, i mean. where are you in the world?

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Me: is this exchange going through a translator program or something? maybe that's why you seem robot-esque.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Me: it didn't work. it went kssphht again.
L!Q!TSR: Thank you for the information.
Me: like a person person?
L!Q!TSR: Yes, Kate. I am a person. I am afraid to inform you that as the notebook is not booting even after performing the power drain steps in this case I would recommend that you send the notebook for repair.
L!Q!TSR: Is that okay with you?
Me: no! there must be something else we can try. i won't ask you if you're a person anymore.
L!Q!TSR: Kate as the notebook is not booting then the issue is with the hard drive or motherboard and as this is a hardware issue I recommend you to send the notebook for repair so that we can diagnose the problem.
L!Q!TSR: Is that okay with you?
Me: no!

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Me: fine, but i totally don't believe you're a real person.
L!Q!TSR: kssphht.

And then my head exploded. The end.

with my daughter’s doll’s hat in one hand and a cup with about four dollars in it in the other

PromptTuesday is TardyFridayThursday.

10 minutes, 250 words starting with this:

“Wait!” I screamed after her. “Your hat!”

She ignored me, which was to be expected. We hadn’t talked, not really anyway, in more than 10 years. I scooped up her black hat. The mesh veil fluttered beneath my fingers

…and I couldn't help wondering whose idea it was to design what appeared to be a "Funeral Barbie". When I called out after them, my sister turned around and glared at me, nearly snarling, while the pigtailed owner of Memorial Service Skipper tried to wrench her hand away to come back and retrieve the hat. Unfortunately, Death Grip Snarler won out and I stood there, in front of some ubiquitous Add a Boost Juice Bar with my daughter’s doll’s hat in one hand and a cup with about four dollars in it in the other.

Of course I wanted to follow them. I wanted to scream after them until my throat bled. But instead, I stood on the curb, between a dented yellow cab and some nonspecific Japanese sedan, and watched my sister and my daughter jog down the stairs at Fulton Street station.

Everyday I hoped to see them, I studied every blond, backpacked child that passed by me, hoping to see my eyes, my nose. I’d seen them two years ago, on Canal Street, and now that I’d seen them here I knew that my sister would avoid Fulton Street for the rest of her life. So I’d move on and find a new corner, a new shelter, a new station, and hope, that in a year or two or ten, I might get a glimpse of my daughter again amongst the other eight million people in this city who could not see me.

shit. me too. don't tell grandma.

This weekend my mom joined my sister and me at the lake for about twenty minutes of this:

My Mom: Do the kids have sunscreen on?
Me: Uh huh.
My Mom: Does The Girl have sunscreen on?
Me: Yeah.
My Mom: Did you get it all over?
Yoga Sister: Yeah, we sunscreened all of them.
My Mom: Does The Kindergartner have sunscreen on?
Me: Yes, Mom. We put sunscreen on everyone.
My Mom [to The Little People]: Do you have sunscreen on?
The Girl: Yes, Gram.
My Mom: What about the big boys? Do they have sunscreen on?
Me: Yeah. Everyone does.
My Mom: Are you sure? Maybe they should have shirts on.
Me: They have sunscreen on.
My Mom: You're a redhead, you have to be careful.
Me: I know, Mom.
My Mom: Kids! Did your mothers put sunscreen on you?
The Little People: Yes, Gram!
My Mom: Maybe The Kindergartner should put a shirt on. His shoulders look red.
The Kindergartner: Nooooo!
Me: They have sunscreen on.
My Mom: Are you sure?
Yoga Sister and I: YES, MOM!
My Mom: You have to be careful.
Yoga Sister and I: We know, Mom.
My Mom: The Girl's cheeks look a little red. Girl! Do you have sunscreen on your face?
The Girl: Yes, Gram.
My Mom: I'm going home, you girls keep sunscreen on these kids.
Yoga Sister and I: Okay, Mom.


[Later that evening]

The Adolescent Boy: Mama, the back of my neck hurts.
The Girl: Mama, I think I got sunburned.
Me: Shit. Me too. Don't tell Grandma.

adjust this and re-maneuver that and check this and blah blah that

I am at The Ranch. The blissful place where the Little People have been held hostage and fed cookies and ice cream and made anydamnthing they want for breakfast. Every day. Even Tuesdays. Just, like, totally pancakes on a Tuesday. I know, right?

So now I'm here with most of my entire family and the dogs and the horses and chickens (and ohmahgah the flipping rooster never shuts the f up) and bears and coyotes, but no cats because cats=coyote food. And I had scrambled eggs for breakfast, on a Thursday. With muffins and jam. And coffee. And OJ. Because, yes we can so have anydamnthing for breakfast on a Thursday.

Today I spent the day at the lake with Yoga Sister and her Husband McPerfect and the Little People Plus Cousins. Husband McPerfect spent about fourteen years getting the sailboat ready to sail, while all the Little People Plus Cousins waited. Patiently. And impatiently. And impatiently some more. But then yippee! it was ready. Oh, wait. Not ready. McPerfect needed to just adjust this and re-maneuver that and check this and blah blah that. Then it was ready. Oh, wait. McPerfect needed to just check this one other thing and then just see if this thing was hooked up right and then tie off blah blah. And then after six more years it was ready to sail. Yay! Or no. Wait. McPerfect just needed to take the boat out alone for eight and a half years to be, like, totally sure everything was right. And then after the Kindergartner graduated from college we all went sailing.

And now I'm going to bed and I'm pretty sure we're having Key Lime Pie and turkey sandwiches for breakfast. Because, yes we can so!

so, okay, it's not a late fee, per se

Remember in, say, 2004 when Blockbuster Video did this huge ad campaign about NO MORE LATE FEES! EVER! and we all sheepishly went back and re-opened our accounts, having been given amnesty on the $14,576.88 we owed for not returning Weird Science and Sixteen Candles? Well, I just caught up and opened a Blockbuster account again, and just tried to rent my second set of movies.

The Blockbuster Dude: You owe $213.45
Me: ?
The Blockbuster Dude: Heh. Yeah, that's a lot.

It wasn't really $213.45, but I can't remember the amount, and it pissed me off like it was $213.45, even though it was only maybe 16 bucks.

Me: I thought Blockbuster didn't charge late fees.
The Blockbuster Dude: Yeah, we don't.
Me: Then why do I owe $213.45?
The Blockbuster Dude: You turned some movies in after the five day grace period.
Me: So you do charge late fees?
The Blockbuster Dude: Yeah, no.
Me: ?

At this point The Blockbuster Dude held a conference with The Blockbuster Shift Manager Guy and The Blockbuster Returned Movie Re-Shelver. Apparently they weren't able to resolve anything.

The Blockbuster Dude: So did you want to get those movies?
Me: Well, I'm not sure. How much do I owe?
The Blockbuster Dude: $213.45.
Me: For these two movies?
The Blockbuster Dude: Right.
Me: But they're only $3.99 each, right?
The Blockbuster Dude: Yeah, plus the other charges.
Me: The other charges. Right. What were they for again?
The Blockbuster Dude: There were some movies that you turned in, like, um, late?
Me: And so you charged me a fee for that?
The Blockbuster Dude: Uh-huh.
Me: How's that not a late fee?
The Blockbuster Dude: Can you hang on a sec?
Me: Uh, sure.

The Blockbuster Dude and The Blockbuster Shift Manager Guy dial in to what I can only assume is Blockbuster HQ.

The Blockbuster Dude: So, okay, it's not a late fee, per se. [Oh yes-huh, he did so say per se] because the movies are, like, due after two days, but you can bring them back within five days if you want, with no additional charges.
Me: But after five days there's a late fee?
The Blockbuster Dude: *sigh* Can you hang on a sec?
Me: Uh, sure.

The Blockbuster Dude goes back to the phone and hits one button, which, I assume, means that HQ has been holding in order to find out how this whole late fee discussion pans out. And then he hands the phone to Blockbuster Shift Manager Guy and returns to me.

The Blockbuster Dude: If you keep the movies for, like, more than five days? Then you are charged the purchase price of the movie. We assume you enjoyed them so much that you wish to buy them.
Me: You assume I wish to buy the movies I rented?
The Blockbuster Dude: Yeah. That seems like what he said.
Me: But you have the movies. I returned them.
The Blockbuster Dude: Yeah.
Me: So I didn't buy them.
The Blockbuster Dude: No.
Me: But I was charged for buying them?

The Blockbuster Dude turns around to go back to the phone, but The Blockbuster Shift Manger Guy shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, and steps up to the counter.

The Blockbuster Shift Manager Guy: Once you brought the movies back, the purchase price that we charged is credited back to your account and you're charged a re-shelving/restocking fee.
Me: Are you just making this up?

and then i wished i'd backed up everything just once

Yesterday morning I woke up and turned on my HP Pavillion Laptop Lover, and my HP Pavillion Laptop Lover went "kssphht".  And I went " ? "  and then I closed my HP Pavillion Laptop Lover and tiptoed back to bed and then I closed my eyes and then I pretended I'd been asleep the whole time and then I acted like I was asleep for five minutes and then I pretended to wake up and then I turned on my HP Pavilioon Laptop Lover again and then my HP Pavillion Laptop Lover went "kssphht" again.

And then I wished I'd backed up everything just once. 

And then I counted back and realized I'd had my HP Paviliion Laptop Lover for seven entire months and then I realized that that is something of a record for me and then I realized that I'd just given a homeless guy TWENTY MOTHERFLIPPING DOLLARS and then I decided that that should've bought me, like, two weeks of good ponytail karma and then I realized I hadn't used the good ponytail karma, because my hair looked like this

and then I decided that that should mean that I should maybe be able to transfer the unused good ponytail karma to my HP Pavillion Laptop Lover and then I tried to turn on my HP Pavillion Laptop Lover again and then my HP Pavillion Laptop Lover went "kssphht" again.

And then I realized that Tech Support was asleep in the other room *yippee* and then I paced around the room for twenty minutes and then Tech Support came out into the living room and then I spent all day doing this, alternately whining and yelling:

Did you fix it yet?  Is it working now? Google says there's a reset button on the bottom of it. TURN IT OVER! Is there a reset button? Google says there IS! IS THERE? IT HAS TO BE THERE!  Let me see it.  Google says to reseat the RAM. You have to reseat the RAM! DID YOU RESEAT THE RAM YET? Can you please just reseat the RAM? Did you fix it yet? Is it working now? It's just a fucking fish, Stuart! Just try reseating the RAM again.  YOU HAVE TO RESEAT THE RAM! Did you fix it? Is it working now?

And then Tech Support's head exploded.  The End.

And we're still dating.  Huh.  I know, weird.

because that is not ridiculous and you are not at all nuts

I may have disintegrated into an mass of I Miss the Little People two nights ago. And so, I may have broken the new California Hands Free Phone While Driving Because You're a Sucky Driver To Begin With law to call my mom and be all maybe I should just fly out there tonight and pick them up and bring them home Right Now! My mom may have been all yes, maybe you should, because, yes, that makes perfect sense and you're not a crazy person.

If I did, then that conversation may have gone like this:

Me: But, Mom, are they okay? Like are they really okay without me? You should tell me if they're not okay.

My Mom: Well, Kate, I think they're okay. The Kindergartner just finished helping Papa feed the chickens, and now he's learning how to drive the tractor. And The Girl and The Adolescent Boy spent the night at their best friends' house having a sleepover in a treehouse. Does it seem like they're okay without you?

Me: Urgh.

And then I may have called again today and been all are you sure they're okay without me and maybe I need to fly out there today and pick them up and bring them home with me Right Now! And my mom might have been all I think they're okay, and yes, maybe you should come get them right away, because that is not ridiculous and you are not at all nuts.

And I may have insisted on speaking directly to the Little People to see if they were really okay without me. And if I did, then that conversation may have gone like this:

Me: Well, let me just talk to them.

My Mom: Okay.

And then she might've been all Kindergartner! Come inside for a minute. Put the sprinkler down and leave the dog and watch out for those chickens and put down your cookie and stop having all of the impish fun and come inside and tell your mother how miserable you are here.

And then she might've been all Girl! Come inside for a minute. Stop picking flowers off the mountainside and put down the feathers and watch out for the hammock in the garden and put down your cookie and stop all that blissful frolicking and come tell your mother how much you miss her.

And then she might've been all Adolescent Boy! Stop swordfighting with Blackbelt Cousin and Soulmate Cousin and leave the sticks there and watch out for the marshmallow roasting pit and put down your cookie and stop all that mischievous mischievousness and come tell your mother that you want to go home.

And then I might have been all, blargh, fine, bye.

okay, get ready for the ass biting part

I owed Brenda Poppins some money, $135 to be exact. And I had the correct currency to either leave $140, which would be a five dollar overpayment for the lovely, charming, trustworthy, smart, fabulous young woman who is willingly taking care of the Little People this summer (even the Kindergartener) and also went out of her way to get (and pay for) (with her own money) ant poison to deal with a rather unpleasant miniscule ant problem in my kitchen (miniscule ants, not miniscule problem; gigantic problem), or I could leave $134, which would be a one dollar underpayment.

So either a five dollar overpayment for pretty much saving my ass from the ants and the Little People? Or a one dollar underpayment from cheapass, disorganized, never-has-cash me. I underpaid her by a buck.

Yeah-huh.

Bit me in the ass not five minutes later, though.

I left my house and texted (Spellcheck, get with the program, texted is totally a word) Brenda Poppins the following: left $134 on kitchen table, $125 for kids + $10 for ant stuff. -$1 b/c I didn’t have right change. Her reply, haha, no prob :], was appropriately sweet to kick in the beginning guilt twinges, which, of course, I managed to pretty easily shrug off. I was all, it's okay, I‘m a good person. And then I was all, it's no big thing that I just cheated her out of the dollar, because I always give the homeless guys money.

Okay, get ready for the ass biting part.

Just as I was considering how it was okay to have swindled Brenda Poppins out of her buck, I pulled to stop at a red light, glanced to my left, and I was all, oh frick, homeless guy. Because, of course, I only had twenties. BECAUSE CHEAPASS JUST USED ALL THE SMALL BILLS TO RIP OFF HER BABYSITTER.

Yeah-huh.

So I gave the homeless guy a twenty and still owe Brenda Poppins the buck. But $21 later, I saved the five bucks on the original potential overpayment.

And then my head exploded. The end.