In my e-mail box today: Lookit

Cracked my shit up, yo.

Don't you hate it when you purchase something online, only to have the seller tell you the item you want is out of stock but that she'll make you a new one and send it out, except she doesn't send it and doesn't answer your e-mails as to whether she's going to send it? I do, too, so that's why I'm going to tell y'all to avoid craft Web site Dadahaus like the freakin' plague.

See, I got the idea to buy something from them from Miss Doxie after she did her splendid recap of all things crafty for Christmas, and so I went there and found a ring with "Wtf?" engraved on it, which I thought would be perfect for our Snidge, right? Well, that was January 19, and the only time I've ever heard from the site's owner, Kelly, was on the 25th when she told me the ring wasn't in stock and that she would make me one and have it to me by the 3rd. It's now the 15th, and no word despite my trying to get in touch with her twice. So then I went to the Dadahaus Web site, and it has some message up about how they've shut the store down to get ready for some crafting expo or something. That's fine, but either ship the damn ring or tell me you can't do it. It's real simple. Anyway, I've already filed a dispute with PayPal to get a refund.

Meanwhile, in an example of better customer service, my hair has been fixed and is now presentable again. Did I tell y'all about how last month I strayed from EWK and had a girl at Mother's shop cut my hair? Well ... the good news is, she made it look different, which is what I wanted. The not-so-good? She cut my sides straight instead of at an angle, giving me what looked like earmuffs. Not at all pretty, despite Poppy's attempts to tell me otherwise, bless her heart. Well, he redid my highlights a week after the cut and said that he would fix it if I wanted, but that I should let it grow and do its thing so he can fix it next cut. Tonight was that cut, and all's right with the world. Now, I just have to keep myself from going after my bangs, which are longer than they've been in YEARS ...

[UPDATE 2/17: Kelly wrote back and refunded my money -- said there's been a family circumstance. That's cool, but Snidge sure did like the idea of that ring ...]

[Courtesy of this poor bastard]

Woo woo! Have a plum one for me!

[Rock Scissor Paper image, yada yada yada]

For those of you who, like me, are fascinated by who you resemble or may be in your family tree, do what Snidgey and I did: Lookit So far, one picture says I look 51 percent like her, and another says I look like this by 63 percent.

To further complicate matters, BFKAS is 68 percent THIS.

It's been my weekend to hear about stupid boys and how they suck sometimes, starting with Mer's new ex-love.

Yup, that's right, Mer and the normal boyfriend are no more. Wanna know why? Because he dumped her. Why did he dump her? Because he said she was too insecure and clingy and he came to realize that even though he wants a family, he's not sure she's what he wants, but hey! he really likes hanging out with her and can they work out a compromise? Oh yeah, and she's too passionate about issues that she shouldn't care about, like, oh, colonization in Northern Ireland or the plight of the Slovenian gypsies and other oppressed Balkan people, for example. HE, in the meantime, is a self-proclaimed liberal and passionate about the issues too, you know, such as LITTERING (I'm not making it up y'all -- that's what she said). But yeah, he still wants to see her because they have FUN. Mmm-hmmm. I'll bet. Well, Mer, with the pride befitting a Leo and half and much, MUCH to her credit, tore a couple strips off the poor bastard and fed them to him without the benefit of cooking them first.

While all that was going on, Poppy rings in and tells me her brother and SIL are pregnant. Which is cool, she's happy for them and so on and so forth. But she and her husband are also trying to get pregnant, and she feels like little brother beat her to the punch, unintentional though it was since he doesn't know there were punches in the first place. So she was telling her hubby how she felt, and he was all like "God, I can't believe you're competing with your family." And it's like, Dude, that's not even it. I mean, people CAN be happy for other people while feeling sad for themselves. They're mutually exclusive -- what's so hard to understand about that?

Oh, and one last thing: I've been reading at a couple different sites that there's a site out there where the author is giving out her own awards and that it's turned rather snarky. What I want to know is, why is it that the bloggers who're bitchy like that are the ones that can't either punctuate or spell for crap? Seriously.

To my darling Snidgey, who has a new may-aaaaaaaan. Sort of. We'll see. But anyway, you GO, grrrrrrl.

[Image by the fine folks @ Rock Scissors Paper]

I need it to go with my new shower curtain, which I bought earlier:




Total departure from what I was originally attracted to, but it works. But I can't find a plain black and white striped towel to save my damn life, though. What is UP with this!?? Sheesh.

I met my alleged sperm donor tonight.

His mother passed away, and BFKAS* said his family wanted to meet me; allegedly, I look exactly like an aunt in their family. The first thing I said to her as we walked out of the wake:

There's this dude who covers for the competition one of the munis I've now been covering regularly for the past few weeks, and can I just tell you about the pants this guy wears? He has a pair of brown polys and a pair of what can only be described as blood-red polys that have been washed many times since the '70s, when he no doubt bought them. And these pants are so tight, you can see his underbundies in them -- and they're NOT boxers, and I doubt they're tighty whiteys. I'm guessing they're colored briefs, and that scares me. A lot. Because he's, like, in his late 40s, and no homie should be wearing colored briefs, but especially in his late 40s. (shudders)

So, how many of you have been wondering what's been going on with the immediate members of my bio-fam lately? Anyone? It's been ... not unpleasant. In fact, it's been downright cordial. Tenuous, certainly, but cordial. And are you ready for this? I even got a birthday e-mail from the woman formerly referred to as ****. (Continuing to call her that wouldn't be in the spirit of reconcilliation, I reckon so I guess I'm going to have to come up with a less-negative pseudonym.) It was belated, but I still got one, which is, like, HUGE. Seriously. And I can't say I'm not unpleased by this turn of events, but y'all knew that already, didn't you?

There's no doubt that some of you are downright puzzled dubious freaked the fuck outconcerned about this turn of events, and you're not the only one; more than once has it crossed my mind that there's an ulterior motive to this change of heart. But I'm tired now. However, you know what y'all didn't do for me for my birthday? You didn't put yourselves on the map. Go do it.

Ok, did y'all know about this thing called The Puppy Bowl on Animal Planet!?? DID YOU SEE THA HALFTIME ENTERTAINMENT!?? It was KITTENS! Glorious, glorious KITTENS, frolicking and sleeping and bathing and ... and ... KITTENS! Wheeeeeee! Kaffy and I did some serious giggling while watching it last night a 12:30, and we weren't even fucked-up.

[UPDATE: Behold! The cuteness: Lookit]

If I have to hear about 1) the rash Mother got under her boobs from using Tide with fragrance; 2) the rising cost of her medication/NIPSCO/everything on God's green earth, or 3) how black people moved into her building and ohmiGOD, how is she going to ever use the washer and dryer again one more Goddamned time, I swear I'm going to throw myself onto 80/94. Fortunately, she did not regale me with these inanities during my birthday dinner this evening, but give it a day or so, and I'm sure she'll be back to it. And I will kill something. Hard.

The ol' birthday was pretty low-key -- thanks to all y'all who remembered to wish me one. Not quite sure how I'm feeling about the ass-end of 35 (aka 36), but I don't feel any older or anything like that. There are just some ages for me that feel more right than others, and any age with a 6 in it usually doesn't make the cut, even though 16 was all right for whatever reason. Anyway, got an iTunes cert from Tara, which I will use happily iff'n iTunes will ever let me log in and use it, and some cash toward a new shower curtain from Mother, which I'm still trying to find one I actually like. (You know, from last year.) Should've thought to look on eBay first, because I've found several I could live with, and all for under the $75 that it would cost me to buy the Lilly Pulitzer I fell in love with: Lookit. I'm also itching to get a new bag, and it's looking like it's going to be either a red Balenciaga or a gold Botkier -- also off eBay, of course.

My sisTAH! Go wish her one, everybody!

[image provided by the always groovy Rock Scissor Paper]

Since the blogosphere isn't done giving James Frey what he deservestalking about James Frey, please pay homage to the brilliance of Banterist, who came clean about his memoirs: Lookit.

[Via Gawker]

I'm guessing you want to know about my meeting with John the gardener.

Yeah, don't be too jealous, because it wasn't nearly as good as it could've been.

When I got to Blue Chip, I parked like a jerk in hotel parking, and security whisked me through to the crowd of at least 1,000, who were all crammed in the pavillion waiting to get in. I crawled (sometimes literally, as there were all these rope blockades all over the place) among the crabby masses to get to the press area to see the end of Bill Boyd's speech (and get my first glimpse of Jesse, who is HOTT but NOT TALL; if he 5'9, I'd be surprised). Then the PR person whisked us back to a craps table, where Jesse threw out the first dice. So we all stood there and took pictures of his hotness, then the P.R person herded all the press people back to the media room, where we had continental breakfast and waited to get a tour of the boat. Jesse, in the meantime, was NOT brought back to the media room, and we have no idea where he went. So, no Jesse and his hotness for me, which positively blows since I looked pretty damn hot yesterday, even going so far as to put on my damn suit and Tod's loafers.

Below, the shots I got of Jesse. To think I was only a craps table-length away from his beauty ...