The mail must go through--Anonymous
I've been jipped. By the post office nonetheless. Coming from an international country, I have always marvelled at the great system set up by the USPS. I loved the modernizations, the speed, the rapid delivery and dependability. I've been a great user of the system without a hitch, mailing everything from books to clothes and then some.
However now the red, blue and white colors no longer fill me with pride. Now the words USPS leave a bitter taste in my mouth. I'm soooooo furious!
What happened? I shipped my stuff through the mail system. I had 35 boxes, very well packed and paid around $600 to get them sent to California. I figured this was a good investment, after all the moving services were going to charge me more than 1 grand. I figured with the Postal system, I would save some extra money.
NOT!
My boxes arrived gradually and everything that was sent by Media Mail got recharged additional fees ranging from $15-$30 per box. 19 boxes were left at their mercy and they held them until I came to the Post Office and they charged me an additional $300 bucks. So to cut the long story short, I got ripped off by the same service that I would vouch for.
Needless to say, I'm not using them ever ever again for anything important ever again. If it isn't normal mail with a 37 cent stamp, it's going with UPS.
I'm going brown.
Monday, May 30, 2005
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Heists
If you make money your god, it will plague you like the devil. - Henry Fielding
Last night was my farewell dinner. Ok, I know that I've been going out like almost every night (got alot of people to say farewell to). Last night was the official final party. If you weren't there, you were square.
As the rule, we were atrociously late...ok 30 minutes. But being that African time and normal time is hard to combine, I think we made good time. Tamira and Dora were already there, awaiting me. We started taking pix and talking and just having a great time.
It was a bona fide ladies night, and my homegirls were dressed up in heels and all glammed up. The food was great, PF Changs had the perfect ambience and conversation flowed freely. It was the perfect evening.
Until it got time to pay the bill and we realized that amid all our gaiety and excitement, one of us had been robbed! Yep, the people in the table next to us had walked off with Tamira's purse without any of us being any wiser.
We freaked. Now to all the ladies reading this, you know how important your purse is to your daily existence. You generally have EVERYTHING in there, from personal information to momentos and finances. If you lose your purse, it's like missing a limb, or even an essential body part.
The cops came and we filed a report...I even had a picture of the really creepy guy that was standing next to Tamira's chair when I snapped the pic. Said perp looked mighty scary and you can totally believe that he was the thief. The manager said that they had paid in cash so there was no where to trace their whereabouts.
By the time Tamira and I got to her friends' place so we could get online and start making calls to the various credit cards and stuff, the perps had already used her card at a grocery store and THEY NEVER EVEN ASKED FOR ID. Everytime I try to use my card, I get asked for ID, so why is it that when these thieves use it at Food Lion, they just walk away with $300 worth of groceries?
Good news: We cancelled all the credit cards and her money was refunded by BOA (big Ups!)
Bad news: The purse snatchers are still out there, and they have her very beautiful digital camera, the Elf as well as her home addy and house/car keys so she had to get those all changed.
Ladies, guard your purses, even placed behind your chair, it is no longer safe.
Thieves, payback is a B*tch. And your day will come.
Last night was my farewell dinner. Ok, I know that I've been going out like almost every night (got alot of people to say farewell to). Last night was the official final party. If you weren't there, you were square.
As the rule, we were atrociously late...ok 30 minutes. But being that African time and normal time is hard to combine, I think we made good time. Tamira and Dora were already there, awaiting me. We started taking pix and talking and just having a great time.
It was a bona fide ladies night, and my homegirls were dressed up in heels and all glammed up. The food was great, PF Changs had the perfect ambience and conversation flowed freely. It was the perfect evening.
Until it got time to pay the bill and we realized that amid all our gaiety and excitement, one of us had been robbed! Yep, the people in the table next to us had walked off with Tamira's purse without any of us being any wiser.
We freaked. Now to all the ladies reading this, you know how important your purse is to your daily existence. You generally have EVERYTHING in there, from personal information to momentos and finances. If you lose your purse, it's like missing a limb, or even an essential body part.
The cops came and we filed a report...I even had a picture of the really creepy guy that was standing next to Tamira's chair when I snapped the pic. Said perp looked mighty scary and you can totally believe that he was the thief. The manager said that they had paid in cash so there was no where to trace their whereabouts.
By the time Tamira and I got to her friends' place so we could get online and start making calls to the various credit cards and stuff, the perps had already used her card at a grocery store and THEY NEVER EVEN ASKED FOR ID. Everytime I try to use my card, I get asked for ID, so why is it that when these thieves use it at Food Lion, they just walk away with $300 worth of groceries?
Good news: We cancelled all the credit cards and her money was refunded by BOA (big Ups!)
Bad news: The purse snatchers are still out there, and they have her very beautiful digital camera, the Elf as well as her home addy and house/car keys so she had to get those all changed.
Ladies, guard your purses, even placed behind your chair, it is no longer safe.
Thieves, payback is a B*tch. And your day will come.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Friendship
Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget. - G. Randolf
This blog is dedicated to Tamira, one of my truly great friends:)
Ok, remember the rant about packing that I just did? Well, my darling friend volunteered to help me pack. Who volunteers for such a chore, I have no idea, but she really did. She sacrificed her Saturday, came over with aid, advice and lots of good cheer and motivation.
Tamira packs quite methodically, believing that space should never be laid to waste. Each of the boxes where utilized to the max, and there were no air pockets that would increase my shipping fees...(see, I remembered!). She showed me how to properly wrap breakables, and 'cushion' them. Then I learned another fabulous trick of putting stuff in ziploc baggies so if they break or bust, they wouldn't mess up the other stuff in the box. WOOHOO!
Total we packed 23 boxes. I would never have believed that I had that much stuff, but when you count the books, winter clothes, sweaters, puzzles and other sundry items, it really does add up.
After that, we sipped on 'slightly sour' pink lemonade, and ruminated about all that we had done in 4 hours. You know who your great friends are when it's time to pack.
Thank you very much darling!
This blog is dedicated to Tamira, one of my truly great friends:)
Ok, remember the rant about packing that I just did? Well, my darling friend volunteered to help me pack. Who volunteers for such a chore, I have no idea, but she really did. She sacrificed her Saturday, came over with aid, advice and lots of good cheer and motivation.
Tamira packs quite methodically, believing that space should never be laid to waste. Each of the boxes where utilized to the max, and there were no air pockets that would increase my shipping fees...(see, I remembered!). She showed me how to properly wrap breakables, and 'cushion' them. Then I learned another fabulous trick of putting stuff in ziploc baggies so if they break or bust, they wouldn't mess up the other stuff in the box. WOOHOO!
Total we packed 23 boxes. I would never have believed that I had that much stuff, but when you count the books, winter clothes, sweaters, puzzles and other sundry items, it really does add up.
After that, we sipped on 'slightly sour' pink lemonade, and ruminated about all that we had done in 4 hours. You know who your great friends are when it's time to pack.
Thank you very much darling!
Friday, May 06, 2005
Paradise
Paradise is sleeping in past noon.--Tosin
This week has definitely been a peaceful one for me. I haven't been working because I'm 1 week away from the BIG MOVE, and I was planning to pack. Those of you that know me though have realized by now that that is just a big fat lie. I haven't packed squat and I have 4 days to go.
The thing about moving is that I hate, absolutely hate packing. And why do I hate packing? Because, true Pack Rat that I am, packing means I have to get rid of the momentos and knickknacks and stuff that has memories for me. You are reading a blog of a lady that has clothes still from her grade school days, obviously that I can no longer fit into, but that I keep for the memories. I have the nursing uniform that I wore in school, the first outfit that I bought with money from my first paycheck, the first pair of jeans I ever owned...you get the drift.
My sister, the quintessential Packing Queen, has already de-junked her life and packed everything she has except what she need for the next few weeks. She does spring cleaning about every month, so she has no junk to speak of. How can you have no junk? Life is about acquiring and storing junk! What is wrong with her? All the outfits that we have ever bought together, she has already given hers away or to the Salvation army. As for yours truly, I still have every single one.
Packing presents a HUGE dilemna for me. That is why I hate moving. I have 96hours to fully pack up my bedroom (the only room that my erstwhile sis has not packed up), and here I am writing a rant about it. I guess I should just go start packing, right?
Not.
PS: Keenyah needs to get booted off ANTM. She's annoying me, has been since that Brandy chick left. They all suck, this crop of models stink. Naima needs to win. She needs to work on her face and knockher pics out of the ballpark. If she doesn't win I'm boycotting. Eva is still the best NTM.
Ok, I feel better now.
This week has definitely been a peaceful one for me. I haven't been working because I'm 1 week away from the BIG MOVE, and I was planning to pack. Those of you that know me though have realized by now that that is just a big fat lie. I haven't packed squat and I have 4 days to go.
The thing about moving is that I hate, absolutely hate packing. And why do I hate packing? Because, true Pack Rat that I am, packing means I have to get rid of the momentos and knickknacks and stuff that has memories for me. You are reading a blog of a lady that has clothes still from her grade school days, obviously that I can no longer fit into, but that I keep for the memories. I have the nursing uniform that I wore in school, the first outfit that I bought with money from my first paycheck, the first pair of jeans I ever owned...you get the drift.
My sister, the quintessential Packing Queen, has already de-junked her life and packed everything she has except what she need for the next few weeks. She does spring cleaning about every month, so she has no junk to speak of. How can you have no junk? Life is about acquiring and storing junk! What is wrong with her? All the outfits that we have ever bought together, she has already given hers away or to the Salvation army. As for yours truly, I still have every single one.
Packing presents a HUGE dilemna for me. That is why I hate moving. I have 96hours to fully pack up my bedroom (the only room that my erstwhile sis has not packed up), and here I am writing a rant about it. I guess I should just go start packing, right?
Not.
PS: Keenyah needs to get booted off ANTM. She's annoying me, has been since that Brandy chick left. They all suck, this crop of models stink. Naima needs to win. She needs to work on her face and knockher pics out of the ballpark. If she doesn't win I'm boycotting. Eva is still the best NTM.
Ok, I feel better now.
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Road Trips and Rendezvous
You got to be careful if you don't know where you're going, because you might not get there. - Yogi Berra
I've officially had my first road trip of the season. And it was quite fun, if you totally subtract the awful rain, awful winds and awful wormy looking flowers that made our car look like the Vehicle of the Walking Dead. This weekend was my supposed, "Farewell Fiesta" aptly named because some of my darling girlfriends were bidding farewell to me, and also because when we did eat, we had a feast of it.
Things to cover: Road Meanderings, King Rat, Mr. Hotness
Road Meanderings:
Music is torture. You never really know how torturous music can be until you have to sit in a car for over an hour (which seems like eons) and listen to another's choice of music that drastically conflicts with your own. It is really true that one man's meat is another man's poison, the same could be said that "one man's music is another's torture." I have never heard so much punk rock in my life, and please, do anything else but make me have to endure that for a whole weekend again. Sitting in the backseat, trying to find lyrics from a genre that I only listen to in in passing, trying to connect with the loud bass guitar and drums. You cannot understand the utter tolerance that it took to grit my teeth and not say a word. After all, these are my girls, they are taking me for a weekend of fun, Fun, FUN! Surely I can bear punk rock all the way from Bmore to Alexandria....
Yeah right *roll eyes* I really must be applauded on my fortitude. I didn't say a word, I'm sure that my girls didn't know that each chord played by the guitarist sounded to me like nails upon chalkboard. In vain, I tried to distract myself, first with my cell phone, then to read a book, but nothing to steal me from the setting. Anyway, I busied myself with looking out the window, glancing at the people that we sped past.
How come driving towards the city on a Friday evening, most cars are full of solo women? I would like to imagine that each and every one of them is heading towards a weekend rendezvous, but of course, sadly enough that is not the case. Quick poll, when you are heading on the highway on a Friday night, around 7pm, where are you off to? Let's see how many partygoing pple we REALLY have out there.
Ok, and coming back, I noticed that most of the drivers where soccer dad's with their brood jammed in the back seat. Obviously each coming from a family outing of some sort, they drove carefully, placing the lives of their family first. So where are all the solo men and when do they get on the road?
King Rat:
The place, Adams Morgan, Alexandria, sitting in a car full of sexy independent women, waiting in a loooong line to get into the underground parking spot. And what do crazy sexy females do when they are bored out of their minds? They talk. We talked about everything under the sun, from the plans of the night, to the people passing us by. I know that we aren't supposed to talk about strangers...but puhlease, you all do it!
"OMG, look at that!" one of my friends noted. Without pause, all of us followed her pointing finger to across the alleyway, where King Rat scuttled across in all his glory. He was neither in a hurry nor scared of the lights and noise from people around, he hovered next to the garbage bin, just chilling and waiting for his consort. Enter Mrs. Rat...(at least I think it was a Mrs., unless rats have the probability of being gay!) Not that I'm scared of rats, but still, I wouldn't want one living in the alley where I threw away my trash, talkless of a relative brood. And you know they breed like crazy. Guess I wouldn't be tossing my garbage in that dumpster.
Mr. Hotness:
Ok, once in a while, a coterie of females will come across and stunning specimen of man, one which, no matter how large or small the number, we will all be able to sigh. It doesn't happen often, because well, we women are VERY picky, and so it's hard to find a guy that everyone can agree to say he's cute. Well, anyway, the gentleman of this distinguished title was actually met yesterday, around the same time that we met King Rat. See, we were all so busy rhapsodizing about the rat, until an SUV going in the opposite direction blocked our view.
Thud. Silence. Collective Breath. Sigh. "Heeeey!" we all said in provocative poses. Well, as provocative as you could get, after all, he could only see our heads. I sent him a lusty wink, and I saw my girlfriend send him an air kiss.
The driver, Mr. Hotness, with his chestnut shoulder length locks and gorgeous green eyes shot us a lazy smile, one that sent all our female pheromones dancing. He slowed his car past us, long enough for us to glimpse once again.....YUMMY.
So, Mr. Hotness, if you happen to be reading this, just know that the quartet of sexy single divas thought you a gorgeous specimen of masculinity. Big Ups!
I've officially had my first road trip of the season. And it was quite fun, if you totally subtract the awful rain, awful winds and awful wormy looking flowers that made our car look like the Vehicle of the Walking Dead. This weekend was my supposed, "Farewell Fiesta" aptly named because some of my darling girlfriends were bidding farewell to me, and also because when we did eat, we had a feast of it.
Things to cover: Road Meanderings, King Rat, Mr. Hotness
Road Meanderings:
Music is torture. You never really know how torturous music can be until you have to sit in a car for over an hour (which seems like eons) and listen to another's choice of music that drastically conflicts with your own. It is really true that one man's meat is another man's poison, the same could be said that "one man's music is another's torture." I have never heard so much punk rock in my life, and please, do anything else but make me have to endure that for a whole weekend again. Sitting in the backseat, trying to find lyrics from a genre that I only listen to in in passing, trying to connect with the loud bass guitar and drums. You cannot understand the utter tolerance that it took to grit my teeth and not say a word. After all, these are my girls, they are taking me for a weekend of fun, Fun, FUN! Surely I can bear punk rock all the way from Bmore to Alexandria....
Yeah right *roll eyes* I really must be applauded on my fortitude. I didn't say a word, I'm sure that my girls didn't know that each chord played by the guitarist sounded to me like nails upon chalkboard. In vain, I tried to distract myself, first with my cell phone, then to read a book, but nothing to steal me from the setting. Anyway, I busied myself with looking out the window, glancing at the people that we sped past.
How come driving towards the city on a Friday evening, most cars are full of solo women? I would like to imagine that each and every one of them is heading towards a weekend rendezvous, but of course, sadly enough that is not the case. Quick poll, when you are heading on the highway on a Friday night, around 7pm, where are you off to? Let's see how many partygoing pple we REALLY have out there.
Ok, and coming back, I noticed that most of the drivers where soccer dad's with their brood jammed in the back seat. Obviously each coming from a family outing of some sort, they drove carefully, placing the lives of their family first. So where are all the solo men and when do they get on the road?
King Rat:
The place, Adams Morgan, Alexandria, sitting in a car full of sexy independent women, waiting in a loooong line to get into the underground parking spot. And what do crazy sexy females do when they are bored out of their minds? They talk. We talked about everything under the sun, from the plans of the night, to the people passing us by. I know that we aren't supposed to talk about strangers...but puhlease, you all do it!
"OMG, look at that!" one of my friends noted. Without pause, all of us followed her pointing finger to across the alleyway, where King Rat scuttled across in all his glory. He was neither in a hurry nor scared of the lights and noise from people around, he hovered next to the garbage bin, just chilling and waiting for his consort. Enter Mrs. Rat...(at least I think it was a Mrs., unless rats have the probability of being gay!) Not that I'm scared of rats, but still, I wouldn't want one living in the alley where I threw away my trash, talkless of a relative brood. And you know they breed like crazy. Guess I wouldn't be tossing my garbage in that dumpster.
Mr. Hotness:
Ok, once in a while, a coterie of females will come across and stunning specimen of man, one which, no matter how large or small the number, we will all be able to sigh. It doesn't happen often, because well, we women are VERY picky, and so it's hard to find a guy that everyone can agree to say he's cute. Well, anyway, the gentleman of this distinguished title was actually met yesterday, around the same time that we met King Rat. See, we were all so busy rhapsodizing about the rat, until an SUV going in the opposite direction blocked our view.
Thud. Silence. Collective Breath. Sigh. "Heeeey!" we all said in provocative poses. Well, as provocative as you could get, after all, he could only see our heads. I sent him a lusty wink, and I saw my girlfriend send him an air kiss.
The driver, Mr. Hotness, with his chestnut shoulder length locks and gorgeous green eyes shot us a lazy smile, one that sent all our female pheromones dancing. He slowed his car past us, long enough for us to glimpse once again.....YUMMY.
So, Mr. Hotness, if you happen to be reading this, just know that the quartet of sexy single divas thought you a gorgeous specimen of masculinity. Big Ups!
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