![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
As we speak I'm watching my new X3 DVD. I thought it came out last week and I had missed it, that's how closely I had been monitoring the release date (in other words, not at all). It's really just for completionism's sake that I got it. I bought it at Walmart and, probably for the first time in recorded history, I didn't insist on getting the extra-special deluxe edition. Even though the cover art is 10 times classier, ultimately it appears the only difference between the packages is an "exclusive" Stan Lee comic. Feh. I'm sorry, X3. I'm just not THAT into you.
My Spaced series arrived in only 2 days, which simultaneously delighted and angered me; delighted because it deserves every word of praise that's been heaped upon it. Angered because it reminded me of my South Park DVD, not here yet despite being ordered more than a week before Spaced and coming from inside the US. Last night I returned to the site to see dchatonly's feedback has dropped to 90% negative. Un-freaking-believable. Why me? In a fit of frustration I sent him this email, despite still being a week within the shipping window.
A bit pissy? Perhaps. But I consider that my prerogative as a customer, as much as I try to avoid being so in face-to-face encounters. Not that I'm afraid of an angry response; half the complaints against him on Amazon say he ignores emails. A fine policy to have as a seller. Nor am I afraid because I'm the first person to admit when I'm wrong, and I'm that confident that I'm not wrong and that I've been ripped off. And I am getting very, very sick and tired of being ripped off by online sellers. But who knows? Perhaps he'll be impressed by my pluck and deign to actually ship me what I paid for.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
We went to see Paula Poundstone this past weekend at Denver University. I've loved her for ages, even saw her once in a tiny nightclub back in Mystic, CT when she was still mostly unknown. I'm pleased that she's gotten some new material since then, including becoming more politically outspoken. "I suffer from short-term memory loss, or as I like to call it, presidential eligibility." She can afford to be an openly liberal Democrat: her audience was a HUGE lesbo fest. I haven't seen that many lesbians at an event since we saw David Sedaris live. Of course it would be tedious for me to recount her entire act here, but suffice to say my abs were KILLING me by the end of her 2-hour set.
I was laughing so constantly that, halfway through the show, I had the oddest thought pop into my head (as they sometimes do). What if the woman directly in front of me thought my laugh was the most annoying thing she'd ever heard and she was silently cursing every explosive outburst? I mentioned this to Tery later and she pooh-poohed me. She said that comedians want an audience full of me's because my laugh is so "infectious and genuine." Whereas an audience of Terys is their worst nightmare, because she laughs mostly "on the inside." I only heard her audibly chuckle maybe 3 times the entire night. I don't know how she does it. She's a stone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Lastly, my weekend at the kennels was again uneventful, except for Lulu. Lulu was a stray mutt with wiry hair and one brown eye, one Marilyn Manson blue. She had had her throat all but ripped out by coyotes, and now was stitched up with a drain jutting out of two oozing holes. Ew. The first night she was a little wary of me, and struggled and twisted and writhed whenever I tried to carry her outside. Suddenly the second night I was her BFF, including rolling onto her back for a tummy scratch at the slightest urging (which made it very easy to apply the warm compresses to her neck). As I carried her in from the yard, her little body was wrapped around my torso lovingly and I was kissing the top of her head and telling her how pretty she was. That is until I heard a loud, wet, squelching sound and I noticed a thick, brownish fluid virtually fountaining out of one of her gaping wounds. Oh. My god. Apparently on the day shift when an animal is brought in with an enormous abscess or a similar pus-filled structure, the call goes over the intercom and the vet techs come running. They LOVE shit like that. I do not, least of all soaking through my clothing, and I spent the rest of the night professing my love from a safe distance (like all dogs, she was just happy that I was looking at her. And yes, I cleaned the poor girl up first).
A face only a mother could love
My Spaced series arrived in only 2 days, which simultaneously delighted and angered me; delighted because it deserves every word of praise that's been heaped upon it. Angered because it reminded me of my South Park DVD, not here yet despite being ordered more than a week before Spaced and coming from inside the US. Last night I returned to the site to see dchatonly's feedback has dropped to 90% negative. Un-freaking-believable. Why me? In a fit of frustration I sent him this email, despite still being a week within the shipping window.
It's been well over two weeks now and no sign of my order. I received a DVD from
Spain within a week and one from the UK in 2 days, so I really can't imagine
what your excuse might be. Furthermore I'm pretty discouraged by your rapidly
plummeting feedback score on Amazon. If it's all the same to you, I'd like to
skip the BS and just file a claim against you at the end of the promised
shipping period (Oct 9, I believe). Let me know if this is a problem for you and
if you'd like to offer some explanation of when my order might arrive.
A bit pissy? Perhaps. But I consider that my prerogative as a customer, as much as I try to avoid being so in face-to-face encounters. Not that I'm afraid of an angry response; half the complaints against him on Amazon say he ignores emails. A fine policy to have as a seller. Nor am I afraid because I'm the first person to admit when I'm wrong, and I'm that confident that I'm not wrong and that I've been ripped off. And I am getting very, very sick and tired of being ripped off by online sellers. But who knows? Perhaps he'll be impressed by my pluck and deign to actually ship me what I paid for.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
We went to see Paula Poundstone this past weekend at Denver University. I've loved her for ages, even saw her once in a tiny nightclub back in Mystic, CT when she was still mostly unknown. I'm pleased that she's gotten some new material since then, including becoming more politically outspoken. "I suffer from short-term memory loss, or as I like to call it, presidential eligibility." She can afford to be an openly liberal Democrat: her audience was a HUGE lesbo fest. I haven't seen that many lesbians at an event since we saw David Sedaris live. Of course it would be tedious for me to recount her entire act here, but suffice to say my abs were KILLING me by the end of her 2-hour set.
I was laughing so constantly that, halfway through the show, I had the oddest thought pop into my head (as they sometimes do). What if the woman directly in front of me thought my laugh was the most annoying thing she'd ever heard and she was silently cursing every explosive outburst? I mentioned this to Tery later and she pooh-poohed me. She said that comedians want an audience full of me's because my laugh is so "infectious and genuine." Whereas an audience of Terys is their worst nightmare, because she laughs mostly "on the inside." I only heard her audibly chuckle maybe 3 times the entire night. I don't know how she does it. She's a stone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Lastly, my weekend at the kennels was again uneventful, except for Lulu. Lulu was a stray mutt with wiry hair and one brown eye, one Marilyn Manson blue. She had had her throat all but ripped out by coyotes, and now was stitched up with a drain jutting out of two oozing holes. Ew. The first night she was a little wary of me, and struggled and twisted and writhed whenever I tried to carry her outside. Suddenly the second night I was her BFF, including rolling onto her back for a tummy scratch at the slightest urging (which made it very easy to apply the warm compresses to her neck). As I carried her in from the yard, her little body was wrapped around my torso lovingly and I was kissing the top of her head and telling her how pretty she was. That is until I heard a loud, wet, squelching sound and I noticed a thick, brownish fluid virtually fountaining out of one of her gaping wounds. Oh. My god. Apparently on the day shift when an animal is brought in with an enormous abscess or a similar pus-filled structure, the call goes over the intercom and the vet techs come running. They LOVE shit like that. I do not, least of all soaking through my clothing, and I spent the rest of the night professing my love from a safe distance (like all dogs, she was just happy that I was looking at her. And yes, I cleaned the poor girl up first).
A face only a mother could love