![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grrgoylI already had some stuff to update about, and then this went and happened last night. The Saga of the Crankwhore will have to wait a bit, but I'd like to think my faithful readership (I know you're out there. Just admit it) sees more in me than the vicarious thrill of living next door to a drug dealer that I provide. I have so much stuff to update, as a matter of fact, that I'm extending a rare courtesy and cutting for length. Enjoy it while it lasts.
I got a call at midnight from someone my phone ID claimed was my younger sister Amy, but who turned out to be Officer So-and-So from the Boston Police (forgive me if I blanked out certain details). They had found my sister's Jeep parked near the hospital where she works, door unlocked, purse, wallet (with cash) and cell phone sitting on the front seat, "near a neighborhood where it isn't such a good idea to leave your car unlocked." They were currently going through all her phone contacts trying to track her down. I had spoken to her just that afternoon and she was going out with friends, that was the last I knew. That and this was alarmingly uncharacteristically careless behavior for her. He told me they were trying her best friend in town next and they were going to keep looking. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am. No need to worry. Good night."
"No need to worry." Yet somehow I just couldn't stop. As I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, I couldn't conjure up a single explanation for my sister's car to be abandoned so mysteriously that had a happy ending. I called my mother who was similarly worried (Officer No-Name had contacted her as well). I asked her to call me back if she heard anything, no matter how late. Just as I had worked myself into tears, imagining getting the message that Amy was found dead, begging whatever deity may have been listening to make it not happen, my mother finally did call back. Amy was fine. She had apparently gotten very, very drunk and gone home with some guy (which also is kind of uncharacteristic). She was very astonished to learn the police were looking for her and very sorry for making us all worry. I could have killed her if I wasn't so relieved.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
My mini-adventure this week was all about my cell phone, which died suddenly (do they ever die any other way?) I could turn it on, but it would promptly freeze up and power off again. It was no better after taking it home and charging it. Naturally this had to happen on a 10-hour work day after getting 3 hours of sleep. I got out of work that afternoon and wanted only to zombify on the couch, but I knew I had to get it taken care of.
First I ran home and looked up my local T-Mobile stores. I took it to the closest, where the guy told me they couldn't do a thing for me until Teresa added me as an authorized user on the account. Well, this was after I finally got him to tear his eyes away from the computer screen to look at me, which he did VERY grudgingly, despite me being the only customer in the place. T-Mobile free-standing stores are very small, really not that much larger than mall kiosks, and the air was thick with Mr. Man's heavy, cloying eau de Homeboi...though the space was small enough that it might have been a team effort between him and his co-worker. If not, I heartily pitied his co-worker. It was so thick that I imagine the odor still lingered in the morning when they re-opened the store. Gentlemen: When oxygen molecules are being outnumbered by your cologne, you're wearing TOO MUCH. It's meant to intrigue and entice a woman, not punch her in the face and drag her home by the hair (although I suspect men who wear it in this fashion probably would secretly prefer to do just that).
I left there, promising to return the next morning but knowing I was lying, not only because of the rude treatment I received but also for the unholy stench. My next stop had to be a pay phone to call Tery and get on the plan. Rather than search all over town I returned to home base, knowing there were a couple of phones in the plaza across from my house. Of course in my haste to leave the house I had forgotten to grab any quarters. We have a can that has about $100 in quarters in the bedroom, and here I was desperately prying loose change out of carmelized puddles of soda in my console.
Oh, the indignity of pay phones. An indignity I believed myself to be well rid of. En route to the plaza it had started raining, and by the time I had parked at the Shell station and gone inside, we were in the middle of a full scale freak Colorado storm, where we get 3 inches of rain in about 15 minutes. I asked the clerk if they had a pay phone, and she pointed to the far side of the lot at one completely exposed to the elements. "Oh, hell no!" I exclaimed and she laughed. I went across the plaza to a phone that was covered, but the slot was jammed so it wouldn't accept any coins. When did my life become a Mel Brooks movie? So across the street again to the 7-Eleven, where I finally got through to Tery.
On the way there I noticed a glowing, welcoming sign in the window of Car Toys: Authorized T-Mobile dealer. Well, why look any further? Tery warned me they wouldn't give me the time of day unless they could sell me a new phone plan, but I shrugged her off. I got to play with Gerry's new Razr at work and had decided it wouldn't be so terrible to maybe upgrade. Besides, I was tired of my old phone. Why wouldn't Car Toys want to sell a new phone to someone?
Of course Tery was right (she always is). Evidently wireless providers put limits on their customers, for no good reason I can see. I wouldn't be eligible for an upgrade until 11 months into the plan (I was currently at 8). Even though the customer's always right and has all this money burning a hole in her pocket (no car payment, remember?) they referred me to a T-Mobile store. GRRRRRRRRRR. Fine. But I still wasn't going back to Sir Stinks-A-Lot. Fortunately I had written down an alternate location just in case. A little farther away, a little busier, but the guy was cuter (skinnier and geekier), more neutrally scented, friendlier and more helpful. He put through a return order and said they'd ship me a brand new phone in a couple of days.
Which they eventually did. The wait was excruciating, even though I generally don't talk on the phone all that much. When it finally arrived I excitedly switched my SIM card into the new handset. When I first bought the phone I thought the SIM card was an excellent idea to transfer settings, etc. from one phone to another quickly and easily. Now I finally got to see it in action. Except I powered it up only to find the phone was a complete tabula rasa, naked as a newborn. I searched the menus in vain. Gone was my Young Snape wallpaper. Gone were my ringtones that I spent HOURS searching for. Most of all gone was my entire phonebook, numbers that I had no record of elsewhere because they were in my phone, why should I write them down? It seemed the only information preserved was stuff that was important to T-Mobile, like my number and how many minutes I'd used that month. Very nice.
There had to be some mistake. I called T-Mobile to find out if there was some secret step I was missing, and thus am able to bring you another exciting chapter in my popular series, Adventures in Customer Service Stupidity (edited to get to the truly stupid parts).
T-Mobile: Blah blah blah how can I help you today?
Me: My phone died blah blah blah and the SIM card didn't transfer any data.
T-Mobile: I'm sorry to hear that. How long have you been having this problem?
Me: I just got the new handset 10 minutes ago, so for about 9 minutes.
T-Mobile: Okay. If you put the card back into the old handset you can retrieve the data...
Me: The old handset is dead. Hence the reason I needed the new one (why doesn't anyone ever listen to me?).
(At this point he put me on hold to consult someone more knowledgeable)
T-Mobile: If you bring the two SIM cards to a T-Mobile store, they can do what's called a card copy (okay, stop trying to impress me with your technical mumbo-jumbo)...
Me: I only have the one card.
T-Mobile: buffering. buffering. buffering.
T-Mobile: Okay, maybe we can send the settings remotely from your old handset that you shipped to us.
Me: I haven't shipped it back yet (besides, a second ago you wanted me to put the card back in the old one).
T-Mobile: We strongly recommend that you ship the old handset back to us as soon as possible, ma'am.
Me: I just got the replacement 10 MINUTES AGO. I haven't got around to it yet, but I promise you I will. (ARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!)
From this point the conversational stupidity ended and the design stupidity began. It turns out my card was empty because I had failed to perform the supersecret final step to save the data to the card itself, so it was only saved on the phone. This makes perfect sense. Why on earth should it save automatically? I only undertake the incredibly laborious process to save totally useless things to my phone, things I don't care about losing because of some idiotic, nonsensical design flaw. Does everyone else divide up their contacts into "permanent" and "disposable"? I looked through the instruction book and found the supersecret step mentioned casually in passing on page 34, utterly belying the DEADLY CRUCIAL nature of it. The fact that the card would only have transferred my phonebook and not all the other things I needed was a small comfort. Too small.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Now for a Crankwhore update. Not that it's THAT exciting (sorry,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
halfcore). After all my cell phone scrambling on Monday, I finally returned home again. I was supposed to call Leah with the environmental testing agency that afternoon to get some final samples from our attic. At that point it was after 5 pm, I still had no phone and I was going to wait for Tuesday, except she was exiting the CW's unit just as I reached the landing. She came in and got them and it was all good. Then the next morning I got an email from the Alcoholic:
The first thing that jumped out at me (besides the fact that she was again sticking her nose in where it didn't belong) was her referral to Leah as a 'person.' I thought that was an odd punctuation, especially from someone who prides herself on her grammar skills. Did she think Leah might have been a cyborg? The second thing that struck me was the uncomfortable knowledge that she is obviously watching our every move. It's a feeling that Tracey will have to get used to (more later), but it had never occurred to me she was watching everything I did as well. Not that I have anything to hide, but what kind of mistaken conclusions can be drawn from the fact that I also come and go at all hours, sometimes not arriving home until 3 in the morning or later? Whatever. Idle tongues will wag regardless.
I responded as briefly and noncommittally as possible. It isn't that I want to exclude her. It's just that her exuberance is exhausting and pointless. Kind of like Dave's lengthy and frequent tirades (we just received a new one today). I am generally busy enough living my own life. What my neighbors are up to is not usually foremost in my mind (unless of course it's the mass production of toxic drugs). Her response a short time later:
Far be it from me to defend the Crankwhore, but even I believe she's capable of doing something else besides selling drugs. I was at such a loss as to how to respond to this that I just didn't. Between my two jobs I worked more than 74 hours this week. I simply don't have the time or energy to participate in her ridiculous histrionics.
Although my security spycam arrived from eBay and it's pretty cool. I hooked it up so it transmits wirelessly to my computer video capture card and it actually works! A first for me. It technically does work from inside the door peephole, but it's a very limited view. My plan is to stick it in a plastic bag and hide it somewhere on the edge of the balcony, so I can have a view of the entire stairwell. Tery's worried I'm going to use it to spy on her when she "brings all her girlfriends home to party." She so funny.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
We inventoried Hot Topic the other night, back to being my favorite store in the whole wide world. I browsed while waiting for someone else from the crew to show up and gave a listen to the new AFI album, decemberunderground. I liked what I heard and decided to get it on the spot. I was amused when the store manager called to the employee, "Can you get on the register? RGIS wants to buy something!" Hang on there, big boy. I can't vouch that the whole company will enjoy it, but I'll do my best.
It turned out his name was Salem. I said, "As in Salem, Massachusetts? That's my mother's hometown, should be easy to remember." I jokingly forgot it while talking to MyFriendDeb...."Ummm, Framingham was it? Northampton?" I was being cruel (he wasn't there at the time) but I actually thought it was a very cool name, though Tery would undoubtedly have drawn comparisons to the SNL sketch with Azrael and Circe Nightshade, the goth kids forced to work at Cinnabon. He was also just my type... tall, rail thin, pale and dressed entirely in black (but with a sweet baby face). Yum.
My icon also represents a postcard they sell there that I would have bought in a heartbeat if only it were in bumper sticker or T-shirt form.
So anyway, I got decemberunderground and Sing the Sorrow online. I LOVE these CDs. It's strange, but the gloomier and more despairing the music, the more my heart swells with barely contained joy. I can't keep the grin off my face while listening. And one need look no further than the Current Music lyrics on my last few posts to see what morose fuckers these guys are. Totally emo, but I love them. LOVE. THEM. You should too.
I also took a chance and spent $6 for Galaxy Quest, because I vaguely remembered it being funny and hadn't seen it since my newfound flame for Alan Rickman started burning. Best 6 bucks I ever spent. In fact it might be my new favorite movie. Funny as all hell (but probably only to Star Trek geeks like myself) and Alan is in almost every scene and also funny as hell. It isn't often he's allowed to play such a humorous part. MyFriendDeb is turned off by the rubber Worf-like forehead he wears the entire time, but I can easily replace it in my mind with Snape's black wig. He even appears in the interviews on the bonus features, another rare event. If you are even the slightest bit into him (I mean of course YOU,metatronis) you HAVE to see this movie (or see it again if you have already). It's also notable due to an appearance by Rainn (Dwight from The Office) Wilson AND Justin Long (Jeepers Creepers, Dodgeball and most recently the hilarious Mac vs. PC commercials. AND from Fairfield CT!!)
Whew. Quite the exciting week. Something I need to mention in passing is that I put that goddamned Coleman grill on eBay on the advice ofms_hecubus and metatronis and would you believe it sold for $100????? Making it only a $20 mistake and much easier to live with. It went to a local woman who met me to pick it up. I refused to take her money before making sure she could use it, but she shrugged me off. "If I can fix airplanes, I think I can work with this." O-KAY. Have at it then and I won't give it another thought. Thanks for the valuable words of wisdom, Michelle and Roxie.
Shutting up now. Now let's see how many tags fit this monstrosity.
I got a call at midnight from someone my phone ID claimed was my younger sister Amy, but who turned out to be Officer So-and-So from the Boston Police (forgive me if I blanked out certain details). They had found my sister's Jeep parked near the hospital where she works, door unlocked, purse, wallet (with cash) and cell phone sitting on the front seat, "near a neighborhood where it isn't such a good idea to leave your car unlocked." They were currently going through all her phone contacts trying to track her down. I had spoken to her just that afternoon and she was going out with friends, that was the last I knew. That and this was alarmingly uncharacteristically careless behavior for her. He told me they were trying her best friend in town next and they were going to keep looking. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am. No need to worry. Good night."
"No need to worry." Yet somehow I just couldn't stop. As I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, I couldn't conjure up a single explanation for my sister's car to be abandoned so mysteriously that had a happy ending. I called my mother who was similarly worried (Officer No-Name had contacted her as well). I asked her to call me back if she heard anything, no matter how late. Just as I had worked myself into tears, imagining getting the message that Amy was found dead, begging whatever deity may have been listening to make it not happen, my mother finally did call back. Amy was fine. She had apparently gotten very, very drunk and gone home with some guy (which also is kind of uncharacteristic). She was very astonished to learn the police were looking for her and very sorry for making us all worry. I could have killed her if I wasn't so relieved.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
My mini-adventure this week was all about my cell phone, which died suddenly (do they ever die any other way?) I could turn it on, but it would promptly freeze up and power off again. It was no better after taking it home and charging it. Naturally this had to happen on a 10-hour work day after getting 3 hours of sleep. I got out of work that afternoon and wanted only to zombify on the couch, but I knew I had to get it taken care of.
First I ran home and looked up my local T-Mobile stores. I took it to the closest, where the guy told me they couldn't do a thing for me until Teresa added me as an authorized user on the account. Well, this was after I finally got him to tear his eyes away from the computer screen to look at me, which he did VERY grudgingly, despite me being the only customer in the place. T-Mobile free-standing stores are very small, really not that much larger than mall kiosks, and the air was thick with Mr. Man's heavy, cloying eau de Homeboi...though the space was small enough that it might have been a team effort between him and his co-worker. If not, I heartily pitied his co-worker. It was so thick that I imagine the odor still lingered in the morning when they re-opened the store. Gentlemen: When oxygen molecules are being outnumbered by your cologne, you're wearing TOO MUCH. It's meant to intrigue and entice a woman, not punch her in the face and drag her home by the hair (although I suspect men who wear it in this fashion probably would secretly prefer to do just that).
I left there, promising to return the next morning but knowing I was lying, not only because of the rude treatment I received but also for the unholy stench. My next stop had to be a pay phone to call Tery and get on the plan. Rather than search all over town I returned to home base, knowing there were a couple of phones in the plaza across from my house. Of course in my haste to leave the house I had forgotten to grab any quarters. We have a can that has about $100 in quarters in the bedroom, and here I was desperately prying loose change out of carmelized puddles of soda in my console.
Oh, the indignity of pay phones. An indignity I believed myself to be well rid of. En route to the plaza it had started raining, and by the time I had parked at the Shell station and gone inside, we were in the middle of a full scale freak Colorado storm, where we get 3 inches of rain in about 15 minutes. I asked the clerk if they had a pay phone, and she pointed to the far side of the lot at one completely exposed to the elements. "Oh, hell no!" I exclaimed and she laughed. I went across the plaza to a phone that was covered, but the slot was jammed so it wouldn't accept any coins. When did my life become a Mel Brooks movie? So across the street again to the 7-Eleven, where I finally got through to Tery.
On the way there I noticed a glowing, welcoming sign in the window of Car Toys: Authorized T-Mobile dealer. Well, why look any further? Tery warned me they wouldn't give me the time of day unless they could sell me a new phone plan, but I shrugged her off. I got to play with Gerry's new Razr at work and had decided it wouldn't be so terrible to maybe upgrade. Besides, I was tired of my old phone. Why wouldn't Car Toys want to sell a new phone to someone?
Of course Tery was right (she always is). Evidently wireless providers put limits on their customers, for no good reason I can see. I wouldn't be eligible for an upgrade until 11 months into the plan (I was currently at 8). Even though the customer's always right and has all this money burning a hole in her pocket (no car payment, remember?) they referred me to a T-Mobile store. GRRRRRRRRRR. Fine. But I still wasn't going back to Sir Stinks-A-Lot. Fortunately I had written down an alternate location just in case. A little farther away, a little busier, but the guy was cuter (skinnier and geekier), more neutrally scented, friendlier and more helpful. He put through a return order and said they'd ship me a brand new phone in a couple of days.
Which they eventually did. The wait was excruciating, even though I generally don't talk on the phone all that much. When it finally arrived I excitedly switched my SIM card into the new handset. When I first bought the phone I thought the SIM card was an excellent idea to transfer settings, etc. from one phone to another quickly and easily. Now I finally got to see it in action. Except I powered it up only to find the phone was a complete tabula rasa, naked as a newborn. I searched the menus in vain. Gone was my Young Snape wallpaper. Gone were my ringtones that I spent HOURS searching for. Most of all gone was my entire phonebook, numbers that I had no record of elsewhere because they were in my phone, why should I write them down? It seemed the only information preserved was stuff that was important to T-Mobile, like my number and how many minutes I'd used that month. Very nice.
There had to be some mistake. I called T-Mobile to find out if there was some secret step I was missing, and thus am able to bring you another exciting chapter in my popular series, Adventures in Customer Service Stupidity (edited to get to the truly stupid parts).
T-Mobile: Blah blah blah how can I help you today?
Me: My phone died blah blah blah and the SIM card didn't transfer any data.
T-Mobile: I'm sorry to hear that. How long have you been having this problem?
Me: I just got the new handset 10 minutes ago, so for about 9 minutes.
T-Mobile: Okay. If you put the card back into the old handset you can retrieve the data...
Me: The old handset is dead. Hence the reason I needed the new one (why doesn't anyone ever listen to me?).
(At this point he put me on hold to consult someone more knowledgeable)
T-Mobile: If you bring the two SIM cards to a T-Mobile store, they can do what's called a card copy (okay, stop trying to impress me with your technical mumbo-jumbo)...
Me: I only have the one card.
T-Mobile: buffering. buffering. buffering.
T-Mobile: Okay, maybe we can send the settings remotely from your old handset that you shipped to us.
Me: I haven't shipped it back yet (besides, a second ago you wanted me to put the card back in the old one).
T-Mobile: We strongly recommend that you ship the old handset back to us as soon as possible, ma'am.
Me: I just got the replacement 10 MINUTES AGO. I haven't got around to it yet, but I promise you I will. (ARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!)
From this point the conversational stupidity ended and the design stupidity began. It turns out my card was empty because I had failed to perform the supersecret final step to save the data to the card itself, so it was only saved on the phone. This makes perfect sense. Why on earth should it save automatically? I only undertake the incredibly laborious process to save totally useless things to my phone, things I don't care about losing because of some idiotic, nonsensical design flaw. Does everyone else divide up their contacts into "permanent" and "disposable"? I looked through the instruction book and found the supersecret step mentioned casually in passing on page 34, utterly belying the DEADLY CRUCIAL nature of it. The fact that the card would only have transferred my phonebook and not all the other things I needed was a small comfort. Too small.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Now for a Crankwhore update. Not that it's THAT exciting (sorry,
halfcore). After all my cell phone scrambling on Monday, I finally returned home again. I was supposed to call Leah with the environmental testing agency that afternoon to get some final samples from our attic. At that point it was after 5 pm, I still had no phone and I was going to wait for Tuesday, except she was exiting the CW's unit just as I reached the landing. She came in and got them and it was all good. Then the next morning I got an email from the Alcoholic:Was that lady in Tracey's condo yesterday afternoon an environmental 'person'? I was curious when I saw the door open. What did she tell you?
The first thing that jumped out at me (besides the fact that she was again sticking her nose in where it didn't belong) was her referral to Leah as a 'person.' I thought that was an odd punctuation, especially from someone who prides herself on her grammar skills. Did she think Leah might have been a cyborg? The second thing that struck me was the uncomfortable knowledge that she is obviously watching our every move. It's a feeling that Tracey will have to get used to (more later), but it had never occurred to me she was watching everything I did as well. Not that I have anything to hide, but what kind of mistaken conclusions can be drawn from the fact that I also come and go at all hours, sometimes not arriving home until 3 in the morning or later? Whatever. Idle tongues will wag regardless.
I responded as briefly and noncommittally as possible. It isn't that I want to exclude her. It's just that her exuberance is exhausting and pointless. Kind of like Dave's lengthy and frequent tirades (we just received a new one today). I am generally busy enough living my own life. What my neighbors are up to is not usually foremost in my mind (unless of course it's the mass production of toxic drugs). Her response a short time later:
Here's my fear: even if she isn't making it, all it appears she knows how to do is traffic in drugs.
Far be it from me to defend the Crankwhore, but even I believe she's capable of doing something else besides selling drugs. I was at such a loss as to how to respond to this that I just didn't. Between my two jobs I worked more than 74 hours this week. I simply don't have the time or energy to participate in her ridiculous histrionics.
Although my security spycam arrived from eBay and it's pretty cool. I hooked it up so it transmits wirelessly to my computer video capture card and it actually works! A first for me. It technically does work from inside the door peephole, but it's a very limited view. My plan is to stick it in a plastic bag and hide it somewhere on the edge of the balcony, so I can have a view of the entire stairwell. Tery's worried I'm going to use it to spy on her when she "brings all her girlfriends home to party." She so funny.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
We inventoried Hot Topic the other night, back to being my favorite store in the whole wide world. I browsed while waiting for someone else from the crew to show up and gave a listen to the new AFI album, decemberunderground. I liked what I heard and decided to get it on the spot. I was amused when the store manager called to the employee, "Can you get on the register? RGIS wants to buy something!" Hang on there, big boy. I can't vouch that the whole company will enjoy it, but I'll do my best.
It turned out his name was Salem. I said, "As in Salem, Massachusetts? That's my mother's hometown, should be easy to remember." I jokingly forgot it while talking to MyFriendDeb...."Ummm, Framingham was it? Northampton?" I was being cruel (he wasn't there at the time) but I actually thought it was a very cool name, though Tery would undoubtedly have drawn comparisons to the SNL sketch with Azrael and Circe Nightshade, the goth kids forced to work at Cinnabon. He was also just my type... tall, rail thin, pale and dressed entirely in black (but with a sweet baby face). Yum.
My icon also represents a postcard they sell there that I would have bought in a heartbeat if only it were in bumper sticker or T-shirt form.
So anyway, I got decemberunderground and Sing the Sorrow online. I LOVE these CDs. It's strange, but the gloomier and more despairing the music, the more my heart swells with barely contained joy. I can't keep the grin off my face while listening. And one need look no further than the Current Music lyrics on my last few posts to see what morose fuckers these guys are. Totally emo, but I love them. LOVE. THEM. You should too.
I also took a chance and spent $6 for Galaxy Quest, because I vaguely remembered it being funny and hadn't seen it since my newfound flame for Alan Rickman started burning. Best 6 bucks I ever spent. In fact it might be my new favorite movie. Funny as all hell (but probably only to Star Trek geeks like myself) and Alan is in almost every scene and also funny as hell. It isn't often he's allowed to play such a humorous part. MyFriendDeb is turned off by the rubber Worf-like forehead he wears the entire time, but I can easily replace it in my mind with Snape's black wig. He even appears in the interviews on the bonus features, another rare event. If you are even the slightest bit into him (I mean of course YOU,
metatronis) you HAVE to see this movie (or see it again if you have already). It's also notable due to an appearance by Rainn (Dwight from The Office) Wilson AND Justin Long (Jeepers Creepers, Dodgeball and most recently the hilarious Mac vs. PC commercials. AND from Fairfield CT!!)Whew. Quite the exciting week. Something I need to mention in passing is that I put that goddamned Coleman grill on eBay on the advice of
ms_hecubus and metatronis and would you believe it sold for $100????? Making it only a $20 mistake and much easier to live with. It went to a local woman who met me to pick it up. I refused to take her money before making sure she could use it, but she shrugged me off. "If I can fix airplanes, I think I can work with this." O-KAY. Have at it then and I won't give it another thought. Thanks for the valuable words of wisdom, Michelle and Roxie. Shutting up now. Now let's see how many tags fit this monstrosity.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-06-19 02:45 am (UTC)I've never tried saving my stuff onto my SIM card, but I think I will soon. I hate, hate, hate my phone and want to get a new one. I just started us on a family plan, so if I have to restart my contract time it will only add a whopping 3 days. Of course I'll probably lose my games, but I'm sure I'll live.
You know, I've never seen all of Galaxy Quest and I've yet to see Trekkies. I'm a bad, bad geek.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-19 03:27 am (UTC)I'm afraid I'll have to report your confession to the Geek Board of Directors. I hope it won't result in revocation of your membership, but I can't promise anything. Especially GQ. It's SO spot on about the whole Trekkie fandom. Good times.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-19 10:27 am (UTC)Yay for eBay and crazy people who shop there!
no subject
Date: 2006-06-20 04:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-20 10:32 am (UTC)Oh, I guess it's true, then! Fangirl away.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-20 03:21 pm (UTC)(Taped "Blow Dry" off Bravo last night. Can't wait to see it)