The Tale of the Jitterbug

Oh there's no place like home for the holidays.

No, seriously. It's crazy.

Every year for Christmas, my family does the whole "secret santa" thing. For our friends joining us from Mars, this is when you draw a name out of a hat and then your "secret mission" is to figure out what the person wants and then give it to them on Christmas (within budget, usually about $20 if I remember). Christmas comes and everyone's happy.

Now imagine a strange, cruel world where all of that is backwards.

That's what a Yankee Swap is.

This past year, we held a yankee swap within the family + LavaGirl confederation for the first time. Here's how it works.

1. You buy a gift worth maybe $5.00. Something cheap. And it can be ANYTHING. (More on that in a second).
2. You bring it, wrap it, and everyone puts it in a pile.
3. You pick a number.
4. Whoever picked number one picks up a present and unwraps it.
5. Number 2 picks a present and can then choose to keep it or swap it, and the swap MUST be facilitated. Then, that person's turn is complete.
6. Everyone goes through in order; you can swap with anyone who's gone before you.
7. After the last person it goes back to number one who has the last laugh as he or she can then choose to swap with anyone.

This is all well and fun, unless of course you have someone like me in the mix. Then it's anarchy.

Enter the Jitterbug.

No, I'm not kidding. This thing actually exists.

When I saw this thing, I knew I had to get it. This was the Yankee Swap gift. This terror that some woman in Idaho made simply to scare kids into therapy was perfect.

And, naturally, the results were amusing.

I had a field day. It was simply too good, and I lucked out in the Yankee Swap, so I didn't get it.

Or so I thought.

Sonuvabitch. My family sent it to me. While I was in college.

When my roommate saw this thing, he nearly had a damned heart attack.

Of course, it didn't help that I planted it in his bed first, but still.

For the next three months the Thing™ went everywhere.

It's still out there, somewhere.

Waiting.

Watching.

The War of the Roses

There comes a point in time where we are challenged by some opposing force.

In my case, it's 1800 Flowers (please don't sue me).

It all began a couple of weeks ago. I ordered some flowers for LavaGirl because all girls like flowers. And what makes LavaGirl happy makes me happy, too.

Pictured Above: Pure Happiness on My Part.

I went online, and I ordered a vase with three white roses in it. I figured this was good, as three is a pretty symbolic number for us right now: we've been together three years, her ring has three diamonds in it, we're both number the third child, etc. I was excited to see her get it. It even came with a card I personalized, and which some poor bastard had to write by hand.

Fast forward a few hours later, and we discover it's been delivered to her apartment building's main office.

Then she gets them.

Then I see them.

It wasn't what I ordered.

Now, usually this doesn't really phase me. If someone gets my order wrong at a restaurant or something, I'm not Captain McDouchy and tell them to get me another one. Same for coffee. But there were two things that made this different:

1. This was for LavaGirl, not me.
2. FLOWERS ARE EFFING EXPENSIVE AS SHIT.

Thus began a series of emails between me and the customer service department:

Alright, sweet! Now not only does LavaGirl get MOAR FLOWERS (and the ones I wanted her to get), but I also get $20 towards the next time I do this. Yay all around!

Until, that is, a week later.

Because nothing had come. Nothing. At all. The "voucher" was supposed to be sent within the week, and the flowers were supposed to come even sooner. What the heck happened.

Alright well, now I'm a bit irritated: the website didn't say the roses were unavailable. It wasn't like they're an uncommon purchase, either... But alright, sunflowers it is. They're still nice, and I got the voucher.

So, I ask for them to be delivered tomorrow and to advise me if that wasn't possible.

So naturally, two days and no flowers later, I get an email.

I had it. I was too annoyed to carry on. I asked for an outright refund, something I never do. But when you drop that much cash on something, and then more than two weeks later they still can't get it right, there's an issue. I mean, they didn't even have what the customer service rep suggested to me. If that's not crazy, I don't know what is.

... oh, and I'm still waiting on a reply. And the flowers, if they ever come. And the refund.

SUPER EDIT OF GLORY: I've been refunded fully as of 15 November and given the $20 voucher as well. I'm a bit hesitant to try that all again, but at least they made good on it. Better late than never.

Got any stories of bad customer service or other similar headaches? Come on, I know one of you must've dealt with Dell Support Staff before. Leave a story in the comments below!

Fingernails: A Tragic Comedy of Errors

Today was an adventure. LavaGirl needed to grab some things here and there, including some screws to fix the futon that I've called my home for far too long. LavaGirl also wanted to pick up some clothes, which is the bane of men everywhere.

We went to the mall, where thankfully I was released from my duties as Supreme Guardian of the LavaGirl whilst she was shopping for clothes, and thus I went about adventuring the mall looking for gifts. Namely for her/us because there's only so much Hulu one can watch before the incessant ads melt your brain.

I went all over the place, only to find a store that specialized in two things: cat calendars and overpriced board games.

Disheartened, I went back towards the store LavaGirl was (still) in.

But, look! Wait! The day may be saved! For what games cannot fulfill, WINE CAN!

Wine: Helping white people dance for 13 millennia

I headed towards the wine store...

Only to be stopped by the nearby troll.

Uh. What?

Now, I'm a courteous kind of guy, and I won't just completely ignore the guy, but I knew I was in trouble when the product was freaking tested on me.

I GOT FUCKING MANI-RAPED.

Anyone who knows me is completely aware of the fact that I don't give a shit about manicures. It might just be my opinion, but I will never willingly get a damned manicure. I'm a mountain-man type of guy, which is why LavaGirl complains after two weeks of not shaving...

Anyways, I digress.

This salesman is trying his darnedest to make damn sure I get to buy his nail shit. This isn't my first rodeo, however; I've haggled and bartered with men and women all over the world. But, dammit, this guy was pretty good.

I, however, persevered and did not give him any money nor get any nail care kit of glory.

But he didn't need to take any money...

He took my manicure virginity by force.

The rest of the mall trip was a nightmare of "what the shit is on my nails, why God why?!?" I used every opportunity I got trying to wipe off the Shine Of Doom™ and "SuperMagicalOil."

Nothing worked. I still have overly shiny nails.

I hate it.

And, according to my ManiRapist, it only lasts A FRICKIN MONTH.
A MONTH.
30 DAMNED DAYS OF THIS SHIT.

My life is but a shadow of its former glory.

Oh, and to boot; when we got back to LavaGirl's apartment, a marvelous thing happened when we were fixing the springs on the bottom of the futon...

I bent the nail back on my forefinger.

Oh, but don't worry.
That'll stop feeling weird in a few weeks.

Along with the other fingernails.

Great.