When I lived in Bakersfield there were two freeways. One went East and West, the other ran North and South. EASY! If you want to go West you get on one, if you want to go South you get on the other! Bakersfield was designed for blond people.

So before I moved to the Bay Area, Ben sent me a map so that I could start to familiarize myself with the freeway system up here. Because it’s so NOT BUILT FOR BLOND PEOPLE. Like the whole 280/680 thing. Both start (end?) way North and head the same direction but very near my house (where 87 intersects 280) 280 becomes 680 because they are actually the SAME FREAKING ROAD. Like a big ‘U’. So, as you are driving along suddenly 280 South becomes 680 North, except you are still going in the same direction because it doesn’t turn for a few miles. And like, couldn’t you have dumped them both into 101 WHICH GOES THE SAME DIRECTION AS THEM so that they each have a beginning and an end and you aren’t driving along and suddenly realize that you are going TOTALLY THE WRONG WAY. On the WRONG freeway. But you never got OFF THE RIGHT FREEWAY that you began on?!

So okay, to go pick up my mom the other day (after her second car accident in three months) I had to go from our place to Milpitas. It’s 15 miles away, which is half the distance I have to drive to work one way and only have to get on TWO freeways. Thank God. But to get to her place I had to:

*deep breath*

Take 85 South (one exit) to 87 North to 280 South which became 680 North to Calaveras *pick her up* continue up Calaveras which becomes 237 (one exit) get off to drop her off head up Trimble to 101 South (one exit) 87 South to 85 North (one exit) GET OFF THE FREAKING MAZE. And thank GOD for the new google maps app for cell phones because, well because I’m blond! I need to get that damn GPS receiver and Tomtom installed on the phone.

So, 6 separate freeways. SIX! To travel 30 miles round trip! I could have taken 880 which becomes 17 to 85 instead of the 101/87 route but I hate 880, even at 10PM at night, because it’s not as fun in the M3 as 87 is (except the 17/85 interchange with can be VERY fun at night when it’s deserted *evil grin*). Plus, I think 87 is faster.

I swear when I began this post I had a point.

Oh yes! To the people heading to San Francisco on 280 North at around 5:30-ish in the morning today… could you perhaps find another route? There must have been an accident on 101 North because there were more of you than normal and it’s not that I’m complaining (yes, I totally am) but you really threw me off my line. And made me late even though I left the house 5 minutes earlier than normal and was all happy that I’d be getting to work on time for the first time in a month. The 280 stretch to Palo Alto is my Wake Up Run. All windy and sloped and wide and USUALLY EMPTY. I turn the radio down and listen to the intake roar and feel every rock under my suspension. It’s ME time. ME! Not you. Okay?

Thanks!

Okay, yeah that was all.

P.S. - Go read Ben’s M3 blog. I feel bad because I kinda pressured him into using it again by threatening to link to it in every one of my blog posts. TeeHee.

I’m sorry for any whiny crybaby-ness this post may contain. Having said that, you are not allowed to complain at the end.

I am SO ON MY PERIOD. Thankfully, the normal physical STUPIDNESS that my body forces on me didn’t happen this month. Unfortunately, that left me no warning that It was coming. It first hit me Saturday morning when I got up and was seriously pissed off at the alarm clock. SERIOUSLY. Like, if it was an actual person that shook me awake at 8AM on a Saturday I’d have knocked it’s teeth out. When I was getting dressed I glared at it and rolled my eyes and cursed it under my breath. It just looked back at me and clicked off another minute, unfazed by my Death Glare, which pissed me off even more.

Luckly, I got Cassidy to Saturday School with no big drama and Ben was busy out in the garage with Reid so I didn’t really have anybody around to set It off. I just putzed around the house getting some laundry done and cleaning here and there while cussing at more inanimate objects. Except my beautiful plants. I didn’t cuss at them. I walked around the entire house checking on everything I planted last weekend. Everything was doing very well, growing and flowering and smelling wonderful and somehow that managed to turn my mood around and I was able to enjoy the rest of the day.

At noon I picked up Cassidy and we headed to the Children’s Discovery Museum which is 10 minutes away but we’d never been to. It was a little too young for Cassidy but she still had a good time. I even managed to have a good time despite the fact that a woman and her child seemed to be following us around the museum and whenever the child didn’t get what he wanted he’d lay down on the floor and violently convulse while screaming like a cornered pig. Seriously, at one point the kid laid there and screamed for a good 7-8 minutes while the mom JUST STOOD THERE AND WATCHED. When she tried to pick him up he started scratching and hitting and BIT HER! She just put him down and let him continue…

I was about to get up and drag him out of there myself when Cassidy tried to throw a ball into a massive whirlpool and missed, hitting The Mom of Screaming Terror Kid smack on the side of the face. Then I couldn’t get up for fear of PEEING MYSELF.

That evening we met The Gang at Dave and Buster’s to celebrate Guillermo’s birthday. I was designated driver (without much hesitation because I’m still a little sick from Sandra’s party a few weeks ago) but still had a great time and managed to hit the Jackpot on our favorite game four times total and three times IN A ROW. I rocked the ticket counter.

Then Sunday came and It was the absolute other end of the spectrum. My mom came with me to a Bridal Show and I turned into a CRYBABY! When the fashion show started I actually had to LOOK AWAY as all the skinny models strutted down the runway in frilly white dresses to keep from crying. I’m totally not kidding. I suddenly had this flash of me walking down the isle towards Ben holding my Dad’s arm and it was such a powerful feeling that I almost had to just leave. I was choking back tears and trying to blow it off as allergies. (Note to self: DO NOT plan wedding around time of period or you will just be a blubbering idiot bride.) I mean, I was CRYING over DRESSES! Who the fuck AM I!? I HATE DRESSES! OF EVERY COLOR AND SHAPE AND SIZE AND LENGTH AND PATTERN!!

Well, I don’t hate ALL dresses. (But most!) And then, after that feeling passed I started to panic that I’d never find THE dress. I know what I want, exactly. The cut, the color, the length the flow… and it’s a combination of about 15 different dresses that I’ve never seen combined into one. And it has to be perfect. I want Ben to become weak knee’d and light headed when I start down the isle. So it HAS to be perfect.

Then I started to realize just how expensive wedding’s really are. According to all the budget planners, reception’s are generally 40% of the wedding. The LOW END average of all the places I’ve looked at around here for 100 people is $6000. So if the receptions is $6000 and that’s 40% of the general wedding cost then are we looking at $15000??? To get MARRIED! No, no we can’t do that. That’s too much money to get married.

I have to scale down what I want. I try not to mention “last time” when I talk about this but in this case I will. Last time I didn’t really give a lot of input. I didn’t choose the flowers, I just kinda nodded and said “Yeah, that’s okay.” It was the same way with the cake and the decorations and the music… “Yeah, that’s fine we can do that.” Other than the dress, it just wasn’t me. Victorian is SO NOT ME. I want this wedding to be everything I’ve dreamed of. And I want it to be what Ben’s always thought this day should be. We really need to sit down and hammer out a budget because I want a Cinderella wedding but need to do it on a pre-Fairy Godmother budget.

And this is a testament to my state of mind… At one point during the fashion show, a bride came out holding a bouquet and threw it into the section making the most noise. The person catching it got a free bouquet ($175 value) from the flower vendor I FELL IN LOVE WITH. I waved my hands in the air like a lunatic SCREAMING for those flowers and the bride looked me square in the eye, tossed the bouquet in a perfect arc directly at me… and the girl IN FRONT OF ME jumped up and grabbed it out of the air. I looked at my mom, then back at the girl, then back at my mom who gave me this look of, “We are at a bridal show and if you make a scene I will TOTALLY DISOWN YOU.” She told Ben later, “I thought Anna was about to clobber the girl over the bouquet.” And she was right. That was MY BOUQUET DAMMIT and if my mom hadn’t been there to look at me I’d have grabbed that bouquet and ran for the door. But considering the 1000 rabid women around me, I’d have probably been beaten to death with Louis Vutton purses and four inch Manolo Blahnic’s.

THEN! To top off my emotional roller coaster, when I got home from the show I saw that somebody had ripped my daylily plant out of the ground and dropped it about three feet away. Two of the three stocks had been broken in half so it was completely not salvageable. I was heartbroken. I bought those flowers specifically because they are always included in any bouquet that Ben sends me. I’m sure this isn’t even some conscious decision of his, he just happens to choose bouquet’s that have them in there. But they are very sentimental to me and they were BEAUTIFUL and smelled SO GOOD and I couldn’t wait till they were producing enough flowers that I could bring them in and put a few on my desk and smile at them.

And that was it. The day before of being constantly strained and on the edge, Crazy Screaming Kid at the museum, the late night at Dave and Busters, the wedding show almost breaking me down, some lunatic woman grabbing MY BOUQUET, then my beautiful plant… I was just SO DONE WITH THE WEEKEND. I was exhausted. And I’m sure it was nothing more than my normal monthly period induced exhaustion + the after show Margarita my mom treated me to but I laid down on the couch and slept the rest of the weekend off like a bad hangover.

I have this blog all typed up complete with points and counter points and bullet lists and links to support everything I believe and I know to be true.. and I’m not going to post it. Because what’s the point? I’d just be giving you what you want and I’m not going to do that. I won’t let you win. Because I’m better than you even on my worst day. Even when I’m PMSing and forget to take my Crazy Pills! So in other words, you REALLY SUCK!

HA! I win.

Normally I have warm, fuzzy, wonderful feelings about you. Tonight I’d like to shove sticks under your thumbnails and force you to eat slugs. Can you just SEE THE GODDAMN BORDER?! And really, would it BE SO HARD to just LET THE DIV BE 100% height? Please? I promise to be nice and make you cookies when we are done.

IE is playing nice. So until you decide that you are not ‘above’ playing with us, I’m going to have to rethink our relationship.

Not so patiently waiting,
Antigone
X0X0

You suck. Seriously.

I took the SK2’s to the UPS store by our house Saturday morning. I was there when they opened the doors at 9AM. The only reason they opened them was because I stood outside the door with my box in one hand and the other pounding on the door. They are ALWAYS open later then the sign says they are. Ben has had this problem with them in the past also.

Anyway, no biggie, it was like 9:02 so I wasn’t going to make a big deal about it but the first thing she tells me is,

Dumb UPS Girl (DUPSG): SORRY! We are open but I was trying to get the safe to open. It’s new and I can’t figure it out.
Me: Ooookay. I’m paying with an ATM card. Is that okay?
DUPSG: Oh! Yes, that’s perfect.
Me: Great.

So I get the paperwork all filled out and go up to the counter, she enters the info, we BS, I had her the card…

DUPSG: Oh no.
Me: What?
DUPSG: Our internet connection is down.
Me: So??
DUPSG: I’ll have to call another location to run the card.
Me: Whatever, as long as I get a tracking number.
DUPSG: Okay. *calls other location*

She hand writes the payment info on the receipt and hands it to me.

DUPSG: Don’t worry, this is a valid receipt.
Me: Well, I wasn’t worried till you SAID THAT.

*looks it over*

Me: Where is the tracking number?
DUPSG: Oh, it will be emailed to you within the hour.
Me: Okay.

I didn’t see this as a problem because that’s the norm. Whenever we email a package from there we get an almost instant email. Like, by the time I’m getting in the car outside I have it. This time since the internet was down I figured it might take a bit.

Then I spent all day painting and at 3:30 suddenly remembered and checked, no email. Call UPS store. They close at 3:00. GREAT! Call 1-800-UPS-SUCKSASS to get the tracking number and…

Dumb UPS Girl on Phone (DUPSGOP): You need to call the place you sent it from.
Me: It was a UPS STORE. It should be in the system already, yes? I have my receipt #.
DUPSGOP: Well, we can’t look it up here you need to call them.
Me: They close at 3:00.
DUPSGOP: Okay.
Me: It’s almost 4:00.
DUPSGOP: Oh.
Me: So is there a way you can look this up for me if I give you the address of origin and destination or the receipt number or what do you need?
DUPSGOP: Sure, what’s the tracking number?
Me: Are you serious?
DUPSGOP: Yeah, I need the tracking number to TRACK the package.
Me: Were you HERE 2 minutes ago?
DUPSGOP: Pardon?
Me: Nevermind. Do you know if they are open tomorrow?
DUPSGOP: Who?
Me: The. UPS. Store.
DUPSGOP: Oh, no.
Me: You don’t know what time UPS Stores are open?
DUPSGOP: We don’t have that information here.
Me: At UPS customer service you don’t have any way to check and see what time UPS Stores are open?
DUPSGOP: No, we don’t have that information here.
Me: So… you are UPS customer service right?
DUPSGOP: Yes.
Me: But you can’t tell me where my package is or what time your stores open?
DUPSGOP: I just need the tracking number.
Me: Goodbye.

It took me so long to cool down after that I waited till Monday morning to call the UPS Store. They guy I got was actually really helpful and took my info and got back to me about 5 minutes later. I repeated the tracking number to him to verify it and hung up happy I didn’t have a repeat of the Saturday afternoon conversation.

Then… when I used the number to track the package, no results. $%*&@#* So, I call back…

The UPS Guy I Liked During the First Call (TUPSGILDTFC): It’s not showing up yet?
Me: No, let me just verify the number.
*read back number to him*
TUPSGILDTFC: Yeah, that’s it.
Me: Okay, but it’s not showing up on the website.
TUPSGILDTFC: Okay, hold on.
.
..
…
TUPSGILDTFC: So… It hasn’t left here yet. It will get picked up with today’s packages and you should be able to start tracking it this evening?
Me: WHAT?!
TUPSGILDTFC: It hasn’t been picked up yet.
Me: Why not?
TUPSGILDTFC: It will go out on the truck this afternoon.
Me: Why. Hasn’t. It. Left. Yet?
TUPSGILDTFC: We were having computer problems that day so…
Me: I took the package in SATURDAY. It’s now MONDAY over 48 hours later and the package that I paid to have shipped on SATURDAY is still sitting there?!
TUPSGILDTFC: Well, we didn’t have internet access so the card wasn’t charged till…
Me: SATURDAY!! The card was charged SATURDAY, 2/10. You are The UPS Store #2762 correct?
TUPSGILDTFC: Yes.
Me: The charge cleared on SATURDAY, according to Wells Fargo, when the girl called another store to run the card because your internet was down because I couldn’t pay with cash because she couldn’t figure out how to open the safe!!!
TUPSGILDTFC: It will go out this evening when the truck gets here for the next pick up.
Me: Fantastic.
TUPSGILDTFC: I sorry for the mixup.
Me: So am I. Next time I’ll go to the Post Office, stand in line and pay more.
TUPSGILDTFC: …
Me: Goodbye.

As a follow up. I wrote this yesterday and as I typed out the last conversation, I got the email. Over 72 hours later. Over 71 hours LATE. I then added an entire paragraph here that I reread this morning and realized that ‘fuck those fucking fuckers’ was not great reading so I deleted it.

The End.