Kristabella: Full of Snark Since 1977

Posted By Kristabella on July 8, 2009

My week started out so good. Now granted I thought this on Tuesday, which isn’t really even giving the week a chance to stretch its wings. But regardless, the Good Week is now over. Because now it is Irritated Week.

It all started at about 4 PM on Tuesday. With an email that pretty much made me cry at my desk (don’t ask). That sent me into A MOOD. So then I decided since I was in A MOOD, I would find out where all the shit I ordered online was.

That was a mistake.

First up, Barnes and Noble. I recently paid money to join their rewards club because Scarlet told me I had to and really, after paying $25 for Jen Lancaster’s book in the store (where, had I been a member I would have saved $10) I decided it was worth the $25 annual fee.

Anyway, I had ordered a few books, including my book club book for July, and in the same ordered figured I’d pre-order Danny’s book, Rage Against the Meshugenah. It had been over a week since I placed this order and since I was a rewards member or whatever I paid to be, I got fast, free shipping. Nothing about a week is “fast” to me, so I wanted to check it out.

And apparently Barnes & Noble is stupid. Because the default method when you order books is to ship them all at once. Which, fine with me. But that means “wait until pre-order book comes out so you can get all your books at once.” Now, I know Amazon does the whole “ship in fewest shipments” thing too. But Amazon also is smart and assumes that if you’re ordering three books that are already published, and since you’re getting free shipping anyway, you’re probably going to want the already-released books when you order them. So they ship them. Common sense.

But not so at Barnes & Noble, my friends. Not so. So I sent some nasty email that will probably end up on their bulletin board, going on and on about how ridiculous this is and this is why people shop at Amazon.com all the time. It made me feel better. But they have yet to respond, which way to go in the customer service department, B&N!

Thankfully Twitter came to my rescue again and told me that I need to cancel the pre-ordered book and they’ll ship the rest. (Don’t worry Danny, I’m still going to buy your book!) (Because I’m sure you’re reading and worried I won’t buy it!)

Next up, New York and Company. Although, this is more a Rage Against the Post Officenuh. Or someone in my building. I AM NOT QUITE SURE YET. I AM ONLY SURE THAT I AM MAD.

So I placed an order with NY & Co. They were having a sale and I needed some new summer cardigans. It is cold in my office and also I can use them for BlogHer. Plus they had some capris on sale and I figured since I wear the same 2 pairs of capris in the summer, maybe it was about time to get some new ones. I was very excited about these purchases and because everything was on sale, it didn’t cost me much!

I ordered it right before I went to New Orleans, expecting that after I got home, I would have mail! And packages! And new clothes! To hopefully wear on my pseudo-blind date!

But I also knew that they said 7-10 business days and I wouldn’t be lucky enough to get them when I was expecting them, would I? No, I wouldn’t. So I checked the tracking number on Tuesday just to see where it was, since we were coming up on the latter part of the 7-10 business days. The tracking number said my package had been delivered on Monday. Monday, June 29.

Wait, WHAT? Over a week ago? And I never SAW the package? Granted I was in New Orleans on Monday, June 29, but I was home the next day to get my mail. Did someone in my fucking building steal my package?

So I did what any normal, insane person would do, I freaked the fuck out. And it was partially about the money, but mostly about the clothes. Because it was a sale and the things I bought were no longer available in my size or color choices! So if someone did steal my clothes (WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT?), I can’t even replace them! FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS RIGHT HERE, FOLKS!

I sent a note to NY & Co asking them for assistance. Thankfully their customer service could teach Barnes & Noble’s customer service a lesson or two because I actually heard back from from NY & Co. They said to contact my postal carrier. And also should have warned me that it was bound to result in me going postal.

At my old place, sometimes the mail person would not deliver something and leave a nice little card for me to go pick it up. This generally happened in the winter when my car was stuck in the snow. But regardless, I would pick it up and all would be fine.

So I figured, maybe that’s what happened here. And the stupid fucking post office forgot to leave a card. I’m sure it happens all the time. Chicago does have the worst post office in the entire country. We won that award by a damn landslide. I’m surprised I ever get anything ever sent to me.

After work today, I decided to head to the post office and figure this mess out. Because I really don’t want to believe that someone in the building stole it. Because if you’re mature enough to purchase a home, I would hope you are mature enough to not steal women’s clothing. One would hope.

I went to the only post office in my zip code. I learned at my old house that just because there is a post office across the street from you, it doesn’t mean that it is your post office. Because across the street is a different zip code.

So I go up to the counter and I’m all “so I think you might have a package for me, kind sir.” And the whole time I’m talking to the post office dude, he’s looking at some dude behind me. Like this post office guy? Totally not paying attention to me. ME! The customer! TALKING! So I stop talking to look at who he’s looking it. Because clearly whoever it is, is fascinating. He wasn’t. He was just some dude who was looking for boxes to mail shit in. From the way Post Office Dude was looking at him, you would have thought we were all in for it, like the dude had an Uzi strapped to his back.

Finally Post Office Dude remembers that I’m standing there. He takes my ID and walks to the back. And of course he comes back with no package. And I’m like WHAT THE FUCK? DOES THIS MEAN IT IS STOLEN? And he’s all “no it was probably addressed wrong and on its way back to the shipper.” And I’m like dude, I ordered it online. The address is correct. It says online that it was DELIVERED. I’m just going to assume it was stolen because where the hell else would it be?

Thankfully the dude in the window next to him was actually nice. And he told me, “well we need the tracking number. Because it was apparently delivered somewhere and not here.” (Dear Chicago, I now see why your post office is the worst in Chicago. “Somewhere, but not here?” No fucking shit, Sherlock.) I tried to pull it up on my phone and then got so irritated I stormed out of there.

I plan to go in the morning since they open at 7:3o. But I can almost guarantee you that my lazy mail person didn’t feel like filling out a card and sent it back to the post office. And since it is like more than 5 days later, the post office was probably “fuck this noise and this Kristin Johnson not picking up her packages, we’re sending it back!” And now it is probably on its way back to NY & Co.

If that is the case, how do I tell NY & Co that I still want my pants and cardigans? Because I’m really upset about the pants! It’s hard to find nice capris this time of year since everyone is already bringing out their fall shit.

Thankfully when I got home from the post office, I did have at least one package that I had ordered. My new purse. Ain’t she pretty?

Category: Rants & Rants, Whine & Cheese | 35 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on July 6, 2009

Do you guys remember when I went to New Orleans? Man, wasn’t that fun to follow along with my drunken tweets. It seems like just last week I was there, drinking Hurricanes and partying with random strangers and sending tweets about a certain cute guy at the CareerBuilder booth. Oh wait, it was just last week. It feels like and eternity ago.

Remember this tweet?

And I did. And then hours later, after several alcoholic beverages, I didn’t want to leave you all hanging, so I gave you a preview.

Now, I’ve never had a psychic reading or a tarot card reading or any of that black magic. But I figured, if it worked for the Gin Blossoms, who is to say it can’t work for me?

(All of you people who are not from Arizona just went “Gin Blossoms what?” The Gin Blossoms song, Mrs. Rita, is about a palm reader on University Avenue in Tempe who told the boys they would be a famous band one day. So they wrote a song about her. And then she laughed and was like “I didn’t say you’d be famous for long, SUCKAS!”)

Honestly, I figured if you were going to pay money for this stuff, why not in New Orleans? That should be the best place to find out your future. Right?

I wasn’t going to do it. My co-worker really wanted to. She kind of coerced me into doing it. But I don’t want to know bad things. I’m fine living in my little bubble thinking I’m going to live to be 100. I don’t want to know if I’m going to die on the plane trip back to Chicago.

Figuring that this was all for show, we asked the psychic “you just tell the good stuff, right?” And she was all “oh no, honey. I tell it all, good and bad.” So I made my co-worker go first.

After she was finished, we asked her how it was. My co-worker seemed to be kind of shocked. She said this psychic was very good. Maybe not worth $50, but she definitely was good. I figured WHY NOT? When in Rome. So I plopped down in chair, prepared to be underwhelmed and skeptical.

Well color me a semi-believer! That chick was kind of spot on with a few things. Everything I’ve ever heard about Miss Cleo and other psychics is that they basically ask probing questions. So they are all “are you worried about your Grandma passing” And then you’re all “yes! How did you know?” And then the psychic is all “I feel you are very worried about your Grandma passing.”

This wasn’t like this. And believe me, I’m a born skeptic. The only thing I believe in is booze and that every chick lit book will end in a happy ending.

She first read my palms, told me I was going to live to be 95, would be healthy/am healthy and won’t be rich. She apologized for that. I was just glad she didn’t tell me I’d be living in a cardboard box by the river.

Then she tells me “this ex boyfriend you’re holding on to, you have to let him go. He’s no good and a negative influence. Let him go honey.”

I think this was the point I gasped. Yes, you could probably say this to most single girls, no? But she didn’t know I was single. I mean she probably knew, but she didn’t ask. And regardless, I have been holding on to my ex boyfriend for no apparent reason at all. Last time we saw each other, it didn’t end well and I realized he’s a douchebag. (Who also has this blog address, so I wonder if he still reads? What’s up Mike?) But there was always this little part of me who wouldn’t let him go. And wow, I’m still kind of shocked she said that.

She then said some other things, how I used to be very driven at work and that lately I’ve been dragging myself to be that driven person again. She also mentioned that I am  always a happy person, always smiling on the outside, but on the inside I wasn’t smiling and I am sad. Which is very true, I even mentioned it here a little. She touched on my being insecure (also true because I’m a fat ass now and no man will love someone as fat as me) (no need to comment that this isn’t true yada, yada, yada. I know it is stupid to think that way, but that’s how I feel.)

Then she told me that there’s a goal I have, something I’m really trying to accomplish, something I’m working towards. She said that I need to stop forcing it and need to just let it happen. I need to stop stressing and just go with the flow and it will happen. It’s meant to happen so it will. (Obviously this could be taken ANY number of ways, but to me, this was my novel I want to write. I’m always putting pressure on myself to write it and that I have to do it NOW, but maybe I don’t. And I don’t have to feel bad that my novel is just a notebook full of ideas and notes right now.) (It actually kind of lifted a weight off my shoulders when she said it.)

And then she went into what I really wanted to hear, my love life. And whooo boy, did she have some promising news. I was going to meet someone in July or August, probably August. This was going to be my future husband. He was going to be 5-11, 5-12 (yes, she said 5-12) and have dar hair and light eyes and be light complected. His name would start with M. We would be married in the next two years. And we would have a good, strong marriage. And we would have two kids, a boy and a girl.

I was elated. I admit that as I get older, I wonder if marriage is in the cards for me. I know babies will. I will have a child, one way or another, in my life. Even if I have to do it on my own. (My mom even said she’d come over and clean my cat box for me so I wouldn’t harm the baby if I was single and preggo.) But it would be nice to have a hubby in the equation too. Honestly, I was worried that the worst news the psychic would tell me was that I wasn’t going to get married or ever have kids. (Oh, hi! I’m from the 1950s!)

Anyway, this is a long way to get around to the bullet point from my post yesterday. Only a few of you even commented on it. My SIL has been trying to set me up with this dude for awhile. He’s the uncle of one of my nephew’s friends. We tried in April and the weather screwed it up. And then the next time, I had my other nephew’s birthday party. So it was finally going to happen on 4th of July.

It was casual. He didn’t even know it was a set-up. He just figured he was coming to his sister’s house for a BBQ. Anyway, he’s kind of cute. (He does actually look like an older Robert Pattinson.) He’s 39 and guess what? He’s 5-11 and has dark hair and light eyes. His name starts with a C. But we found out, his middle name starts with M. I SHOULD RUN OUT AND MARRY HIM NOW, NO?

He’s a nice guy. Has a very dry sense of humor. (Bonus!) But he’s quiet and doesn’t seem to be very outgoing. He’s an old 39, where I’m an immature 31.

But I’m trying to ditch my Seinfeldian ways and give it a shot. Maybe he was like that in front of his family and a bunch of strangers. Maybe he’s really a party animal. I’m willing to give it a shot and find out. I am learning to not be so quick to judge and not write him off because he is very anti-fake sugars and has a disdain for all things NutraSweet.

Maybe I’ll at least get a free meal out of it.

(And wouldn’t it be funny if I just eat crow 6 months down the road if I’m all “remember that dude I was kind of meh about? NOT SO MEH NOW!”)

Only the Romanian psychic in NOLA knows for sure!

Category: A Day in the Life of Me, Spinsterville Here I Come | 28 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on July 5, 2009

People, I’m tired. I need a vacation from a holiday weekend. I didn’t do most of things I would have liked to do on a three-day weekend, particularly a three-day weekend that followed four exhausting days in New Orleans. I didn’t sleep in once this weekend. NOT ONCE!

Things I did do:

• Sit in traffic
• Cursed the all-news radio station in Chicago for their lack of reporting on several HUGE accidents, which apparently didn’t happen until I set tire to the asphalt on the expressways.
• Cried a lot in traffic.
• Threw myself a pity party. In traffic.
• Almost screwed up my brother and sister in law’s plans to head downtown for a night away together, without the kids, because I was the babysitter and I was stuck in traffic. On a holiday. At 10 AM.
• Spent a whole day with my niece Skyler alone.

• Watched a lot of bad cartoons.
• But didn’t really mind because what Skyler wants, Skyler gets. Girl has me wrapped around her finger. AND KNOWS IT.
• Ate a lot of crap, not limited to pizza, cupcakes, donut holes and ice cream.
• I ate most of these things for breakfast.
• So did Skyler. Which is probably why I am her favorite Auntie.
• Met a dude that my SIL and her friend have been trying forever to set me up with.
• Drank a lot of beer.
• Forgot to put sunblock on and got really sunburned. I really wanted the skin to match my shirt.

• Played volleyball in the pool for what seemed like hours.
• Decided I can never have a puppy, even a cute one. Say what you will about cats, but they don’t whine.

• Got asked by my nephew Noah how old I was. He said I looked 20 and then without skipping a beat said “Well how come you’re so old and aren’t married?”
• I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’m almost 32. Mostly because I didn’t want to witness his jaw drop to the floor when someone was THIRTY ONE and not married.
• Overall, had a really, really good weekend.

Do you see why I’m so tired? So I’m off to bed early. Like I’m writing this and the sun isn’t even down yet and I’m hitting the hay, with the sweet sounds of Field of Dreams lulling me to sleepytime. If you build it, he will come.

But before I leave you, please tell me why this is a good way to travel through an airport with a child.

Category: All in the Family, Land of Random | 20 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on July 1, 2009

I’m back from New Orleans. And any of you that follow me on Twitter are well aware of the good time I had. I really should step away from my phone when I’ve been drinking. Especially when I’ve had many, many rum-filled drinks.

I love New Orleans. I imagine I now know how people feel about Las Vegas. See, I don’t love Las Vegas. I don’t gamble, so that isn’t fun. I don’t really enjoy the clubs anymore these days, plus I don’t like to pay $20 to get into places. I also like my booze cheap and plentiful, which is impossible in Vegas.

But NOLA, oh NOLA, I heart it so much. I say this after spending four days there at the end of June. When the temperatures were in the mid-90s with like 80% humidity. Even in those temperatures, I still love it. (I also can’t complain about humidity in Chicago anymore because 40% is NOTHING compared to New Orleans.)

I enjoyed myself immensely. I ate well. I tried to see as much as I could in the little time I had. I think I saw and experienced all the city had to offer and I fell in love with it. Although, like Vegas, four days was like one too many and I was ready to get home and let my liver recuperate.

Saturday, once I landed, after standing in the world’s longest line for an airport shuttle, I decided to get some lunch and start exploring the city. I ate lunch at Mother’s (as recommended by Regan) and had a po’boy. It was deee-licious!

After lunch, I traipsed around the French Quarter. I OF COURSE ordered a beer because you can drink on the street there! Even at 2 o’clock in the afternoon! And you’re definitely never drinking alone in this city! THIS IS WHAT ET  MUST HAVE FELT LIKE WHEN HE RETURNED TO HIS SHIP!

I had pre-ordered tickets for the walking tour of the Garden District. I really wanted to be sure I saw that part of New Orleans, and this was the best way to see it all. It was a Haunted tour, which means they showed us the houses that are haunted and told ghost stories. I was afraid it would be cheesy, but it wasn’t. Our tour guide Carla was AWESOME and really loves her job.

And how could you not love walking past houses like this every day?

After the tour, I took a street car back to the hotel and got ready to go to dinner. I went with two of my co-workers and we had a great time. I got my palm read and a tarot card reading (more about that tomorrow) and then we began our Hurricane drinking. Whoever commented that Hurricanes were gross, you were wrong. I know everyone has their own tastes, but fruit juice and lots of booze? SIGN ME UP! And they are potent! They taste like fruit punch. Which is probably why I ended up trying to bump and grind random, unsuspecting dudes at the bar.

Sunday was the start of the trade show, and the reason I was in town. Our booth was near the Careerbuilder booth. On Sunday night, they had Top Chefs cooking at their booth. I spotted them the MINUTE I walked into the convention center and then about pissed myself from excitement.

Thankfully they were all so nice! Even Casey, who I was convinced would be a bitch! And Brian was ADORABLE in person! I forgave him for all those fucking ceviches. AND BLAIS! I actually yelled out BLAIS when I saw him. Clearly, I watch too much damn reality television.

I was so nervous to talk to them, but my co-worker forced me to take my photo with them. I’m so glad she did!

(You can see the rest of my photos here.)

After Sunday night, Careerbuilder had nothing as exciting, except a cute guy named Brendan. Who I stared at inappropriately for a few days. And then Twittered drunkenly about him. Not realizing that Careerbuilder is ON TWITTER. Let’s hope they don’t know how to use the search function.

On Monday night, after an early dinner, I went back to the hotel and realized that sitting in your hotel room at 7:45 PM on your last night in New Orleans was not allowed. So I decided to go out and get some souvenirs for my niece and nephews. And since I just happened to end up at a store down the street from Pat O’Briens, I figured since there was no line, I really had to go in and have an official Hurricane.

While there, I started chatting up the people sitting next to me. One Hurricane and a shot later, I was partying with them on Bourbon Street and having a freaking blast! I ended up drinking way too much, shaking my ass and thanking Twitter for telling me to get my ass out to the French Quarter that night! It was INSANE! Total New Orleans experience!

Before I left town, I made sure to have some beignets from Cafe Du Monde (HOLY CRAP THOSE ARE SO FUCKING GOOD!). And I pretty much decided that my bachelorette party (which according to the psychic will happen one day, and soon) will be held in NOLA. I already found the hotel we’re staying at. Save up now ladies!

And then I realized that the Tony Bennett song is so wrong, I didn’t leave my heart in San Francisco, I left it in NOLA. And I can’t wait to get back there so we can be reunited.

Category: Hooch Hilarity, Travel | 29 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on June 25, 2009

For those of you who don’t speak Jay-Z, that spells NOLA.

(I love Jay-Z. He is hands down one of the best rappers ever and knows how to make a hit record. And a fucking smart businessman. So naturally I love all his songs, even H to the Izzo. But is it true he is rapping about being a Jehovah’s Witness? HOVA. Like JeHOVAh. Not that I have good taste in music, I mean I’ll listen to anything with a good beat, but something about that just seems weird. But not celebrating holidays and birthdays also seems weird to me, so who am I to judge?)

This is going to be a short post because I’m tired. This week has been exhausting. I blame it all on the heat. Because the heat came out of nowhere, we didn’t have time to get acclimated. (I was wearing long sleeves last week!) (Maybe not, but it wasn’t in the 90s, there was no talk of heat indexes and putting coolant in my car was but a distant thought.)

Anyway, being out in this heat, even just driving to and from work, or walking to the bus stop, takes it all out of you. On top of that, we have a big event next week for work, so I’ve been getting prepared with all of that this week. So I’m tired. And I just wasted an hour-plus of my life watching the Real Housewives of New Jersey Reunion only to be told NOTHING! So then of course, I read their blogs over on Bravo’s website because you CANNOT END IT LIKE THAT! CURSE YOU BRAVO! YOU ARE JUST A PROSTITUTION WHORE!

So, back New Orleans. I leave on Saturday for Nawlins. I have never been to New Orleans. Ever. One of the drinking/partying meccas of the world and I’ve never been there. SHOCKING! I KNOW!

I’ve been getting recommendations from her. She lived there and grew up there and knows everything about NOLA. So I have a huge list of places to drink and eat at. I would also like to take a streetcar ride, preferably past the Real World house because I like to do that when I go to cities where The Real World was filmed. (I have a photo of the Seattle house. The Chicago one is apparently a gym now or something.) (Also, I’m almost 32, WHY DO I STILL CARE? And why do I remember the people that were on Real World New Orleans? Including that cute blonde who married Bailey from Party of Five. Why can’t I remember things that are important, but yet I remember that?) (There was also the gay dude, dating the guy in the military, and Julie the Mormon and Melissa, crazy, crazy Melissa. And was that the season with David? And his weird songs?)

ANYWAY, I need suggestions! I don’t have a lot of free time, since I am going for work, but I’m going to try and fit in as much eating and drinking as I can in the little time I do have. I’ll have a hurricane at Pat O’Brien’s because I think you have to at least once, but not outside because I’ll forget to get a refund on my glass and some hooligan New Orleans native will steal it from me (I’m from the Midwest, we don’t do those kinds of things!) (But also, we’re too drunk in Chicago to care about a glass refund.)

So leave any good suggestions in the comments! Thankfully Mother Nature is preparing me for the weather down there, since we’ve had the SAME weather in Chicago as New Orleans this week. So hopefully I’ll have some energy to meet locals and take photos and get passed-out-in-the-gutter drunk.

A girl has to have goals.

Category: Travel | 26 Comments »
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