Earlier this week, Lyra (of Lyrical Meanderings, in case there’s anyone here who doesn’t already follow her there) posted a great essay that had me thinking about tee shirts, once I was done thinking about how badass unicorns really were.
That’s not all I took from the essay, in case you were wondering, but once I had absorbed Lyra’s always thoughtful insights, commented, and followed the link to the badass unicorn tee, my instincts led me further down the retail path, as they are wont to do.
I also realized that most of my tee shirts, which live lives of their own in the depths of my top bureau drawer like blind squat lobsters in the Mariana Trench,* predate my marriage. This was a bit of a shock. In high school and college, tee shirts happen—they’re the natural by-product of academia, or even walking across campus. Hell, marching band along nets you three or four per semester, without including the ones that violate Bill Watterson’s copyrights.
But after graduation, you apparently have to make an effort, especially if you want tees that fit, both physically and personal-statement-wise.**
So I did, over at TopatoCo:
There were others, so, so many others, but with three you get free shipping, so I didn’t push it.
“Nope. That’s it.”
Whiny Greedy Consumer Rant o’ the Week
I ordered a new netbook from Newegg this last weekend in a fit of pique because Best Buy ticked me off —or rather, their idea of customer service did.
Huge sales on, tons of people, and all the clerks were clumped together in an aisle talking about how busy they were, which was odd because they were completely ignoring the customers. So, I walked up and said, “Could someone help me find the netbooks, please?”
It was like I’d flipped a switch. Everyone glanced at me and faded away in different directions, but no one answered my question.
So I left. And I’m not going back. And I mean it this time.
Newegg offered me three-day delivery and six months of deferred payments, which is good, ‘cause I’m saving most of my ready resources for next week—parking in St. Louis is extortion and wireless service in the hotel is worse.**
But this netbook is a necessary expense because I wanted something I can carry around with me so I don’t have to worry about theft and I don’t want to schlep my laptop case everywhere and yes I could simply use paper and a pen but this is the 21st Century, darn it, and I wanted one.
So I’ve spent the past few days tracking my order and watching it circle New Jersey before heading west. It arrived in town around 5:45 am this morning, and at 4:15pm this afternoon, the status finally said, “Delivered to a man.”
I called my husband to make sure he was the man in question before doing the New Stuff Happy Dance.
He was, and all is good.
And finally, my First Reader and dear friend is marrying her best friend and the love of her life this weekend.
She shared one of the songs that they’ll be playing—knowing Lisa, the rest of the music will be just as incredible:
Please drop in at her place and wish her a Happy Wedding Week!
*Or like creased sardines, except I don’t think sardines, ironed or otherwise, live in the Mariana Trench. Any ichthyologists in the house?
**I’m no longer a medium nor someone who picks up the beat and flutes it all about. I’m not heartbroken about either.
**If any Bouchercon attendees happen to land on this post, I will gladly split or even divide the daily wireless charge, if possible. E-mail me.