The Agony & The Ecstasy*

The Agony is that, as I alluded to in a previous post, the Howler's big Santa gift was to be a dollhouse. A gorgeous, wooden, taller-than-she-is dollhouse.


We ordered it from WalMart.com, to be shipped Site-to-Store. We've done this on several other, smaller things, and never had a problem. Apparently, WalMart.com decided to hate us, and the wonders of the technological age decided to beat the living hell out of us.


The Dollhouse was ordered on November 23rd. They remembered and managed to take my money by November 25th. They remembered to email me that they took my money, though.


After checking at the store at least twice, we get a call from a friend of my Sweetie's who works at WalMart, that The Dollhouse was RETURNED. My money wasn't, but The Dollhouse was. And they didn't bother to email me AT. ALL. about ANY of this.


I got on the phone. I dialed numbers. I waited on hold. I talked to people who were absolutely bound-and-determined to NOT help me find The Dollhouse, and who did everything short of hanging up on me to NOT take my complaint.


Turns out, The Dollhouse was sent to the wrong store. What wrong store? Ain't nobody admitting. It was damaged, apparently beyond recognition, in transit, and it was "liquidated." Meaning, some jerk beat the crap out of MY Dollhouse and then sent it home--after not bothering to inform it that it had arrived ANYWHERE.


It apparently wasn't received correctly--those emails are automatically generated, so it's not like a human being had to even make an effort to send one. And, the money taking email claimed that they would hold The Dollhouse for 21 days before returning it. It was officially returned on December 16th.


In doing that math, WalMart in God-Knows-Whereville didn't bother to inform me that it arrived. And they beat the crap out of it for 21 days, then returned it from whence it came. That means that The Dollhouse arrived at some store, somewhere in America, on November 25th.


Now, part of the fun for me in all this is that it is at that point, 6 days before Christmas. It's not-quite 5pm on Thursday, December 18th. I've already scoured my hometown for an acceptable The Dollhouse, and resorted to paying on line, with a credit card, for the priviledge of being on the receiving end of some of the crappiest customer service I've ever experienced.


And they're not giving me my money back for 3 to 5 business days.

Do that math.


The WalMart Customer Not-Service representatives I talked to said things like, "Well, I don't know." and, "There's nothing I can do." and "Let me transfer you..."


I refused all that as "unacceptable."


And I informed them that I work retail, and "No lie, if our places where switched in this, I'd be out of a job."


They did manage to convince me, in my seventh-inning desperation for Christmas morning joy, to choose the "next best" house they had.


The Idiots actually tried to convince me to accept "Site-to-Store" shipping again. I asked them, "Do you EVEN hear yourself asking me that?" and I got a "It's the best I can do."


I informed them, "Well, no, it's not. And if you think I'm going to pay for the priviledge of being bent over like this again, you've got another think coming." (Although, I admit, I don't think they appreciated the sarcastic and bitter out-loud cackle they got when they offered to refund my money to a "WalMart Shopper Card")


They shipped the next-best dollhouse to my door, promising delivery "no later than December 24th" and knocked $25 off the house. (That shipping was $45!) And they managed to process that entire transaction--refunding my money for The Dollhouse and the new sale of the next-best dollhouse--in ONE DAY.


My Sweetie had it put together quickly, and the furniture it came with is perfect.

The Ecstasy is This is an example of Christmas Morning Howler Joy with the next-best dollhouse. It makes it worth it, and this most definitely does:







* Kudos to me : I didn't swear at the WalMart Idiots, and I swear, the only questionable thing I said was the part about grabbing my own ankles. And, given the circumstances, I think that one was acceptable!

What a Jerk

Santa, that is.

Have you watched TV's Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer lately?

As a child, it seems to be a sweet story about a guy who started out all wrong, and ended up saving his friends, and Christmas for the children of the world. What it looks like now, though, is about a bunch of obnoxious conformists bullying the guy they don't like into packing up and leaving town. It's twisted to think that after how Santa and even his own father treated him, Rudolph agrees to save their pathetic asses from diaster.

We watched it last night--Santa is a first-class, no-holds-barred jerk. He wants everything to be done his way, and he wants all the reindeer to be exactly the same. That's a sociopathic dictator. He states, early on, that because Rudolph is DIFFERENT, he will NEVER pull Santa's sleigh--no matter how hard Rudolph works, he won't fit in. Santa has spoken.

Then, during the reindeer games, when his fake nose falls off, the other bucks make fun of him, but SO DO THE ADULTS. And the adult *coach* is the one who tells everyone, "Right. And remember, gang, we don't let Rudolph play in ANY of our reindeer games."

The pretty little doe who can see Rudolph for who he truly is, still wants to walk home with him, but when her father tracks them down, she's got no chance.

What jerks they all are.

In her defense, Rudolph's mother tries to protect him--at first. But, after the male "put his hoof down," she's silent for the rest of the story. How sad is that? Even at the end, when ol' Dad shows up to be proud of his kid, in spite of his deformity, she doesn't even roll her eyes.

I'd just really like to know, too, in a place that is totally intolerant of difference (hence Rudolph's banishment) how is it that the tall, geeky elf is accepted and allowed to sing and work with the other elves? How does Santa and his gang miss this guy?

So basically, the Christmas message they're sending to us is that unless you're the Token, don't be different. But if you are different, forgive us our jerkness and bail us out when we need you.

No wonder I have so much trouble playing nicely with others--I won't be the Token, and I won't bail you out when you're a jerk who created your own problems.

Tits and Tats

Weddings are always interesting because there's always such a mix of people, and you never know quite what to expect. I mean, yes, there's a bride and groom. There's family. Friends. Bridesmaids and groomsmen. There's food and there's usually alcohol. Music. Dancing. There are people you know, people to look at, and people to talk to.

And now that I am married, there's very little pressure, so I can sit back and people watch.

Today, the Mumples went to a wedding.

For the Howler, weddings mean dancing. So the Mumples gotta stay for the dancing. (The dancing in her estimation is more important than the food. I don't know where she gets that!)

Well, today's event proved to be quite an eyeful.

Apparently much thought was given to showing off that ink. It may have been a requirement for the bridal party--it certainly looked like it.

I don't know how many people were looking at the bride, though. ALL of the bridesmaids were bursting out of their short skirted low cut pink dresses.

Of the four, only one didn't have knockers that would make a Hooters waitress jealous (but more on her later.) And all of them had tatoos. They were large girls, mostly, so I guess delicate roses inked on their shoulders would have seemed inappropriate. Not having ever wanted someone to take a needle to my skin and jab me millions of times, though, I couldn't say for sure.

This artwork was large, and EVERY. WHERE. You couldn't swing the mother of the bride without hitting a large, colorful tat. Seriously. I considered trying it, just to see if it was true.

I think between them all, there was not a body part that wasn't colored in. Mr Mumple and I spend more than a few minutes imagining how they would all look in 20 years--and it wasn't pretty.

And there were tits everywhere. EVERY. WHERE. I felt rather over dressed, because I wore a bra. But then, they invited us, backtracked and invited the Howler and the Toad (who, at 19 was able to opt out--and I'm personally glad. Had he been there, he'd have had his hand down his pants for days.) But they never mentioned that women over the age of 18 were expected to show off ye olde ta-tas.

I've seen skin mags with fewer tit shots than this wedding. Holy moly! There was barely a bra in the place.

There was a guest who looked like the balloon display at the circus. A baby doll shift-dress should not be worn by a woman who is weighs in at 300+ pounds. She changed immediately after the wedding into low waisted jeans and a halter top that showed off not only her size 58 triple Ds but also her beer belly. I was in mortal fear that she would bend over and I'd see that cleavage too.

Now, it's time for the maid of honor. She weren't no maid and whatever *honor* she might have had was lost in the backseat of an '83 Chevy on prom night--back in '84. Honest to God!

She changed into jeans. Normal, if faded and slightly ratty (and fashionable) jeans. She paired that denim with a "The Beatles" tee. She apparently forgot her bra. Or lost it. Or whatever. There was a cool breeze everywhere she went--the cold weather indicators were out the entire time. I was worried, even with as small as they were that someone was gonna get an eye put out. Madonna based her show-cones on this woman's massive and erect nipples. There was absolutely NO WAY you could miss seeing these things. I'm dead serious when I say that if it weren't for her nipples, you couldn't tell she had tits.

Now, on to the best man (and brother of the groom.) His current Squeeze was just about right for this ho-down. His ex was there, because their children were in the wedding (adorable and sweet children. It's a shame they have such an ass for a father.) The Squeeze looked like she put on her sister's prom dress. The color made her look yellow. While her hair was washed and combed, that was all you could say about it. And since she had no tits either, if that dress hadn't had those spaghetti straps, there's no way in hell even super glue would've held it up. I was so busy waiting for the disappointment of the flash that had to be coming that I didn't notice any tats though. There was no flash, so my eyesight was safe. (Personally, I'm vain enough to not want to come up short if/when compared to my Sweetie's exes. And if he had an ex that looked like this guy's ex--she's pretty, and well put together--I'd sure as shit NOT going to be in a dress that didn't look good on me, with my hair looking like all I did was wash it and hope for the best.) The Squeeze looked like (and God help me, I sound like my mother) something the cat dragged in. And she was pretty much ignored by the bridal party, and the groom's family. I summed it up by saying, "You can take the girl outta the bar, but you can't always get the bar outta the girl."

Oh, the funderful sights you see!

Is It Just Me?

Or did they hire a bunch of weirdos at work?

Okay, I get that not everyone can think, or think quickly. I get that not everyone is "as smart as mumple". If truth be told, even for my intolerance of lazy, stupid people I work with, I'm still waaaay more tolerant of the slow and cumbersome than most of the other people I work with.

The people who irritate the snot out of me are totally okay, cool, great for everyone else. And the people who irritate the snot out of everyone else, don't bother me in the slightest.

BUT, no matter how much I like you--if you are a 'tard about letting merchandise walk out the store without proper payment or supervision, OR if you are just too dammed slow and cumbersome to actually do your job under pressure in May the week before Memorial Day, there's a really good chance you're gonna hear the words "stupid" and "useless" come out of my mouth. And management, you've worked with me long enough to know that.

So, of the new people they've hired, so far, we have "Overwhelmed"--she's better than most of the women her age who are hired and totally intimidated by the fact that our cash registers are more computer than register (I think some of them learned to make change on an abacus in ancient Egypt), BUT, it took her two 8 hour days and multiple explainations for her "realize" what a "code 3"(3 or more people in line to check out) is and how to get more bodies running register. She had NO CLUE, until about 48 hours into her 2nd 8 hour shift what the "code board" was for. I know I explained it at least 3 times, and she had been, at that point, with me for about 2 hours. I'm using the word "Overwhelmed" to describe her because she is totally flummoxed by ANY thing that she needs to do that isn't an every-other-transaction thing.

One of them likes to have the phone (the cordless/cell phone each department has to field calls from people too crazy to actually come into our store) but he barely knows how to answer it. "Phone Man" can't transfer a call. He can't call outside the store. He can't page and he can't pick up a call that wasn't sent directly to him. He's friendly, though, and always willing to lift, carry, or otherwise be a pack mule for the customer.

One of them take stray merchandise and bring it to the register. Even if he walks past it's home on the shelf or table to do it. If you have a cart of stray merchandise (like mulch) that needs to go back to it's home on the shelf, or if someone has brought you stuff they haven't paid for yet (or if it IS paid for, but they didn't take it immediately to their vehicle) he asks EVERY time he wanders past the register, "Are you sure those don't go back?" He also thinks that we use damaged merchandise in displays, and that hanging baskets (what is it with the universe, me, and hanging baskets?) that have cracks or chips, fresh off the produce truck, cannot be sold. I finally had to tell "Display Man" that "ALL the plants are currently on DISPLAY. Hang it with the rest of 'em." We were also out of the large rolls of plastic we have as a courtesy for customers to line their trunks so their plants don't vomit on the carpet--he tried to take the cardboard tube OFF the metal holder to take it with him to get a new roll. I had to practically wrest it from him.

The guy they had pull carts in from the parking lot yesterday hauled them in, and LEFT them in the main entry aisle. As if it makes sense to see registers, and customers separated by an impassable sea of carts. "Dude" looked a little put out when I said, "Hi! I need you to move those carts over there. Please don't leave 'em in this aisle--it can't be blocked. Thanks." I mean, other than an immediate need for a mass exodus (trapped skunk inside the garden center) I can't imagine why we'd want customers to be able to come in, go out, or get to the registers. Really.

Finally, we come to the stick woman who creeps me out. She wasn't as creepy 24 years ago in high school, but she's way creepy now. Maybe it was the lightening that struck her several years ago. I don't care why. She kept coming up to the register on Saturday and demanding to know if I knew where "her" pricing gun was. I kept telling her that someone else has it, and "Lightening Grrrl" still kept coming up every 30 minutes or so, pawing around under my register (I am trying to curb my territorialism, I really am!) and asking if I had it. Honestly, if I had the dammed thing, I'd have given it to you just to make you GO AWAY!

I haven't experienced many of the newbies, though. I think, given this cross sampling, I'd rather not. (and they wonder why I won't bother to learn most of their names until next January.) Sheesh.

Book Review: The Screwtape Letters

“Of course I know that the Enemy also wants to detach men from themselves, but in a different way. Remember always, that He really likes the little vermin, and sets an absurd value on the distinctness of every one of them.”
The Screwtape Letters
by C.S. Lewis

Written by C.S. Lewis (of The Chronicles of Narnia fame), this book is a series of letters from Screwtape, a devil and administrator of Hell, to Wormwood, a novice Tempter and his nephew.

Wormwood’s subject is “an ordinary man” and it is Wormwood’s job to tempt him and encourage all the sins, bad behavior and thoughts, he can. The ordinary man and his exact circumstances are not disclosed. It is made clear that the “patient,” as Screwtape refers to the young man, is in England around the beginning of World War II, but beyond that, all identifying information is bland and non-descript.

Screwtape is a crafty old devil and has much experience in being Tempter, and therefore, lots of advice and guidance to offer Wormwood. His attitudes and opinions about humans is definitely degrading, frequently referring to humans as "animals".

C.S. Lewis tells the story of a nameless young man and his demon Tempter, while showing very clearly our human foibles. I found my own spiritual journey in several of Screwtape’s letters.

Included with the letters is also a speech Screwtape gives at a banquet in Hell. It seems a sort of State of the Union address to a graduating class of Tempters.

In it, he describes the many ways in which humans do the Tempters’ work for them—making bad choices and allowing themselves to be complacent in the face of sin and evil in order to “fit in with everyone else.” Lewis leads his reader to examine his or her own heart and motive.

Finally, overall, Lewis presents the idea that all sin is against God, and equally advantageous to Satan, no matter how, as humans, we qualify our sins and big or small. He also firmly convinces the reader that virtue, when twisted and used, can be as damning as out-and-out evil and sin.

It’s certainly an eye-opener: the reader cannot fail to see him- or herself in the lessons Screwtape sets down for his nephew.

The Screwtape Letters
With Screwtape Proposes a Toast

C.S. Lewis
HarperSanFrancisco
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers

Movies

I love these movies. Whether it's some stupid hopeless romantic thing, or just a stupid thing, I don't know, and I can't seem to analyze it enough to get over it.

1. Grease 2 It's one of the most horrid wastes of time, energy, money, film and paper. It's a stupid story, with stupid, but catchy songs. Sick and demented as it is, I love it.

2. 10 Things I Hate About You Heath Ledger isn't all that much...except for this movie. I am addicted.

3. Never Been Kissed While I was not Josie Grosey in HS, I was painfully shy and struggle daily with my tormented, insecure self. I keep that shy girl roped and duct taped into silence, but sometimes, it's not enough.

Now, for the other part:

If there is any one on this planet who can please explain to me WHY WHY WHY the movie Reservoir Dogs is "just a cool movie" PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE tell me. I've seen it, and while I agree that Tarentino has a unique style, and an unforgiving eye for man's inhumanity to man, and he is blaringly truthful in his portrayal of the fact that not everyone has a redeeming side to them, this movie is about WHAT? exactly? And why does every single man I know who has seen it say EXACTLY the same thing: "It's just a cool movie." No explanation, no reason. I get that I don't have the plumbing to easily or always understand, but in this instance, even the guiding beacon (and saving grace of me) in Kevin cannot (or will not) explain.

Book Review: The Poisonwood Bible

The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver opens in the late 1950s and progresses through the lifetimes of the Price family women. Orelanna Price is married and the mother of 4 daughters. Her husband, Nathan, is a minister and would-be missionary. Nathan has decided to take his family on a mission to the Belgian Congo.. The family dynamic is one that is heavy with Nathan Price’s ideals, fears, and prejudices about females. Orelanna is a woman who is overwhelmed by her husband, and she acquiesces to his wishes on almost every aspect of her family’s lives. His daughters range from 17 year old Rachel to 5 year old Ruth May, with 15 year old twins Leah and Adah between them.

The story is told, in chapters and books, by the women of Nathan Price. Orelanna begins by foreshadowing a dreadful event which will leave one of her daughters dead in the Congo and her family in tattered ruin.

With stifling heat and humidity, a disastrous attempt at gardening, army ants, Nathan’s lack of understanding and compassion for the villagers and his own family, to a middle of the night run to the river to avoid being eaten alive by army ants on the move and malaria, the women prove themselves to be stronger and more adaptable than Nathan Price himself. His self-loathing seeps through the story and destroys his family, although it takes decades for the myth of Nathan Price to finally die and leave his wife and daughters, not with peace, but with acceptance.

His surviving daughters final understanding of their father, his weaknesses, and their own troubles mirrors Africa’s ultimate fate. Africa and the Congo changed the Price family—breaking it apart, but ultimately leaving the pieces more resilient.

Each character comes alive as she shares her hopes and dreams, frustrations, and fear of Nathan—and each daughter’s view of her father, sisters, and Africa itself is a monument to Kingsolver’s descriptive gift. As in any tragedy, there are things that are amusing—some of Rachel and Ruth May’s descriptions are so defining of their personalities that it’s hard to not smile when reading them. Orelanna’s despair, Rachel’s selfishness, Leah’s compassion, Adah’s evaluation and Ruth May’s childhood are so clearly wrought on the pages that the reader is swept along in their memories of the Congo to the bitter end.

The Poisonwood Bible

by

Barbara Kingsolver

HarperPerennial

A Division of Harper Collins Publisher

Book Review: The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown

The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown is a best selling novel is rooted in the mythology and symbology of the Holy Grail and the Catholic Church.

The story begins with the murder of the Grand Master of a covert society and unfolds as the main character, Robert Langdon, an American college professor, and the granddaughter of the murdered man, Sophie Neveu, begin to find clues that will lead them to the location of the Holy Grail.

It firmly establishes the premise that the Holy Grail is not just an idea—it is the remains of a person, along with ancient documents proving who the person was. It elaborates on why the Grail has been the topic of speculation, quests, and even wars.

Whether or not you believe in the myths and legends of the Grail or the political oppression as represented in this fictional book, it is an intriguing and suspenseful race through Paris and London to the final discovery of Sophie’s supposedly dead family and her reunion with her grandmother and younger brother.

The book also has dramatic descriptions of landmarks within Paris and London.

This book and it’s author have been in the news since it’s release because of the basis for the plot—regarding the oppression of women and the Catholic Church’s supposed rewriting of history (and with it, the writing of Church doctrine). Also, the portrayal of secret societies and ancient religions has stirred up interest and anger of religious groups around the globe. This has generated a lot of publicity and may have helped place the book on the best seller listings.

The Da Vinci Code

by

Dan Brown

Anchor Books