Cookie Dough

As I've mentioned before, having a hobby is an essential part of life, especially while job searching. There's only so many times you can fill out applications, answer questionnaires, send in resumes, write up emails, etc. before your brain implodes.

My hobby is baking and cooking, but usually only small things: a loaf of bread, a meal...

Your arteries will explode in gratitude.

And then there's lava girl, who makes 5,000 dozen million cookies every Christmas.

I'm not even exaggerating. Just ONE recipe she's recently started using makes 6 dozen, and she tripled the recipe. (You can find it here: they're really good).

And, naturally, as BigStrongGuy™, I maintain my dignity as a man I become the human mixing machine.

But, being the silly and rebellious fellow I am, I can commit extreme acts of terrorism...

Naturally, LavaGirl is not amused.

That's alright though. I mean, everyone likes cookie dough better anyways? Besides the raw egg, what's the problem? Cookie Dough > Cookies, period.

Well. Until I am shamed into doing all the dishes for my crimes.

The following two people commented on my Facebook page, and thus I drew their profile pics. 

 

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.