honey badger (cat) don’t care!
people actually thought this would harm their kids:
i wonder if neil armstrong were to have had a fight with his dad during his famous space mission…would his father have said “don’t make me come up there!” 🙂
ending 2018 and hoping for a better 2019 🙂
my cats, thomas o’malley and butter. butter just wanted to go to sleep in the sun, but…
the incompetence and negligence of fedex is palpable and continuous. this week’s fiasco has potentially caused me serious damage. they picked up a pre-paid envelope from my home on monday (12/24/18) and have, it appears, lost it. the envelope contained all of my personal/private financial info, per request of bank of america (boa).
when i called fedex to inquire, they sent me to 3 different people to discuss. the last person said that boa would have to file the claim because they initiated the pre-paid label. it took 34 minutes on the phone to find out that there’s nothing they can do. in the meantime, someone has all of my private financial info.
my first (rhetorical) question is: what does fedex do? the answer? they pickup/ship/deliver packages. it’s not like they also do tune-ups and deliver pizzas. they just do this one thing…and they’ve been doing it long enough to have it down to a science. i thought.
i normally ship ups or usps only, but was guided by boa to use fedex for this one purpose. in the decades of using ups/usps, i can’t recall anything ever being lost. getting fedex deliveries (and now a self-shipment) has been one nightmare after another.
i just finished informing boa about the fedex fuckup in hopes that they don’t start foreclosure on my home. the purpose of the fedex shipment was to give them requested paperwork and signatures to stop foreclosure proceedings.
my stomach is in knots and the headache this gave me made me have to lie down for a few hours. now i live in fear of identity theft, as well as a looming foreclosure. i haven’t done any work all day because of both trying to deal with fedex, find my package, alert the credit agencies, and crippling stress and anxiety.
i’ve sent emails to several attorneys i found online and am awaiting their reply.
wait for it…
today is day 5 of the 365 days since i stopped shopping amazon. slight withdrawals. i’m ok. the cats are ok. i’ve been shopping walmart, target, etc. and finding items i hadn’t seen on amazon, which surprised me. i hope walmart keeps their 2-day shipping free.
when shopping walmart, i click the link on ebates.com first so i can earn cash back. getting cash back and free 2-day shipping makes this bargain hunter happy!
florene richardson williams — 1928-2015
i visited aunt florene about a year or two before she passed away. we both knew i wouldn’t be coming back, so we said our goodbye’s then. she told me how much she loved me…and that she always had. i knew she loved me, but it was still nice to hear her say it one last time.
she protected me as much as she could and i’m forever thankful to her for that. i think she knew it was an impossible task, but she persevered nevertheless. she was my advocate when nobody else would take on my biological mother. only i knew how to handle my batshit, abusive, mother. aunt florene always tried to reason with her, but you can’t reason with crazy. i would usually disarm my mom with a smile…something only i was able to do…but only sometimes. aunt florene tried to apply logic to an illogical scenario, where i used humor and guile. my aunt never gave up, where eventually i did.
aunt florene was about the only member of my small family i truly loved and respected. she was somewhat well-read, easy for me to make laugh, strong, and determined. she was a country girl who never left the tiny town of eagle springs, nc, where she was born and raised. she had a strong, drawn-out, southern accent, that gave my name more syllables than necessary. most of the time when we arrived at her house on our usual sunday visit, she wasn’t in the house. i always knew where to find her, though. i’d run through the field of cows to the gigantic chicken houses, where she’d be feeding and checking on her chickens. there were a bazillion of them and i hated going inside when the chickens were adults. what assholes chickens can be. when they were chicks (baby chickens, but she called them “bitties”), it was easier to walk through them to get to aunt florene for a hug and kiss.
my aunt was even tempered. the only time she would scold me was when i’d sit in one of her dining room chairs and put my feet on the foot rails. drove her insane. you see…she and uncle marvin were simple folk. they farmed, raised chickens, and lived a meager, country lifestyle while raising two daughters. having survived the great depression, they wanted the few things they had to last an eternity. my scratching up the foot rails with my shoes was counter productive to that. even to this day, i think of her when i rest my feet on my own chair rails. it’s odd the things that become forever etched in our memories.
after her brother, in a drunken fit of rage, burned down the house my grandparents left to my mother and me, i stayed with aunt florene for a while. i slept on a pallet on the floor and woke up every morning to her cooking breakfast for me before school. this was something i hadn’t experienced before. my mother raised me, an only child, to be independent and not to count on others for anything life asked of me. waking up to scrambled eggs and sausage being cooked is an indescribable olfactory experience. i mean…i cooked it before myself on many occasions, but waking up to that smell was like…um…it was like…god, i wish i could think of a clever simile right now. i’ll just say she was like the mother i never really had. i know it’s trite, but it’s true.
i will forever love and miss you, aunt florene. thank you for everything. gonna’ rest my feet on the chair now (sorry), dream of scrambled eggs and sausage, and remember your loving smile.
tommy the cat kneads me 🙂
on world’s aids day, today, i say fuk bush.
“They say to only speak good of the dead. He’s dead? Good.”
walk a mile in my shoes for a second: do you know what it’s like to walk into your local bar and 43% aren’t there? and not because they were at a concert, but because they were all sick, dying, or dead? 43% of my close friends and acquaintances gone forever. most didn’t even get an obituary because the family was so embarrassed. this is not hyperbole, btw.
that pos was responsible for killing millions of lgbtq (and straight) people. about 43% killed, due to him and his minions (basically) saying that we “deserved it” and would not fund research or even publicly say the words hiv or aids. it was a “gay disease”. instead he’d turn over the “issue” to religious people and we’d have to hear 24/7 about god and god’s punishment..blah, blah, blah. that was his decree of cowardice.
so, yes…fuk bush. i don’t mourn his death, i celebrate it.
(feel free to leave a comment whether you agree/understand or not)