Skeleton Crew on audiotape (one from his father and one from my brother Tracy) and I got two copies of The Perfect Elizabeth (again, one from Fred’s Dad and one from my brother Tracy). All we can figure is that they happened to be shopping Amazon at the same time; but isn’t it odd that they both chose those particular items? Especially considering that my wish list was about three miles long. Anyway, I sent one copy of each back to Amazon today and requested a credit in the form of a gift certificate in return. Between the books I got for Christmas and the Amazon gift certificate I got from my parents for Christmas, AND the books Fred’s buying me for my birthday, my wish list is but a shadow of it’s former self. And I have a huge bookcase stuffed with books waiting patiently for me to read them. God, I love it when that happens! I think I mentioned back before Christmas that I had ordered a pair of Nike Air Prestos (actually, I think I mentioned it in my diet journal) online at Footaction. I was rather excited to find them online, because they were hard to find in the stores, and the Nike website was wiped clean out. And since I’m a dumbass, the harder it is to find something, the more desperately I want it. Anyway, I ordered the Air Prestos in size small (Air Prestos are sized differently from your average sneaker), which also happens to be the most popular size. Can you guess what happened? That’s right, when they arrived in my hot little hands a few days later, they were THE WRONG FUCKING SIZE. Although the size I ordered was small, and the size on the invoice was small, what I actually received was an extra small. AND when I checked online again, they were completely out of size small Air Prestos. Was I peeved? Was I ticked? Was I losing-my-mind furious? Oh, you betcha. In fact, I was so desperate to have the shoes that I tried to convince myself that I could wear an extra small. I didn’t get very far with that particular theory. I mean, I could get them on my feet, but I couldn’t, y’know, retain feeling in my feet for long. I ended up sending them back with a particularly nasty note, and began haunting eBay, searching searching searching for Air Prestos in a size small. A few days before Christmas, I found a pair, bid up to $100 on them – almost positive I’d be outbid in the last few hours of the auction, but figuring I had nothing to lose – and checked back several times a day until the auction ended. I got ’em for $81 plus $7 shipping. Go me! That’s only $3 more than they cost on the Nike site. Pretty good deal, I thought, and I think I was lucky in that it was Christmas week, and so not so many people were browsing eBay from work. Or so I’d like to think. That’s why I needed the money order at the post office and had to stand in the long, long line. The spud and I had to switch Jeeps with Fred because I’ve been begging him for months upon months to take my Jeep in to have the oil changed and the wheels rotated. Yes, I COULD take it in myself, but then what the hell would be the point of being married? Fred, being the man, is legally required to deal with all car-related crap and I, being the woman, am legally required to bitch at him until he does so. It works well for us. Anyway, today’s the day he’s taking my Jeep to the oil change place, so I don’t have to worry about the fact that my tires are slowly going very flat and that I’m about 3,000 miles past the time I needed an oil change. Isn’t he a good boy? Lastly, I must tell y’all about the annoying clerk at Bath and Body Works. The spud, I think I mentioned, got three Bath and Body Works gift certificates for Christmas. I also got a gift certificate, PLUS a reader – Carolisa in Atlanta; hi Carolisa! – emailed Friday to tell me that B&BW was having a really good sale on, well, Bath and Body stuff, so I figured it was time to hie my ass to the mall. Bath and Body Works is always and forever jam-packed with people, no matter what time you show up, so I had to fight my way through the crowds to find the items I wanted (and yes, the incredible sale was still going on; thanks Carolisa!). The spud wandered around and picked up some deodorant and a bottle of shower gel. The shower gel was on sale for something like 3 bottles for $11 (or something similar), but the spud only wanted the one bottle. The sales clerk rang up the spud’s items and saw that the total was almost $10 less than the gift certificate the spud held. Naturally, she tried to convince the spud to go back out into the store for more stuff. The spud shook her head and said she’d gotten all she wanted to get. The clerk pointed out that she could give the spud a merchandise credit for the difference "or you could just buy more stuff now so you won’t have to later." This was enough to confound the spud, who stared wordlessly at the sales clerk, and a wave of annoyance washed over me. I stepped forward, fixed the clerk with a gimlet eye, and said "She’ll take the merchandise credit." You see, the clerk hadn’t realized that the spud was with an adult who’d seen all the crappy selling-up tricks sales clerks have to offer and wasn’t impressed. In any case, she got her ass in gear and got going on that merchandise credit. Oh, and while I’m thanking readers, let me mention Sarah from Noo Yawk City, another Mainer living in exile, who read my Christmas list back in November, saw my craving for whoopie pies, and offered to send me some when she went home for Christmas. Since I’m only human, I OF COURSE said "Yes, please", and last week found a big package waiting for me at the post office. Inside said package were three HUGE whoopie pies, because Sarah is such a sweetheart she sent a whoopie pie for each member of the Bitchypoo family. Three seconds after my weigh-in on Monday, I dove face first into my whoopie pie. These things were SO big that by the time I’d eaten half of my whoopie pie, I was stuffed to the gills and had to save the rest for later. So Sarah, thank you! I have the most awesome readers, I really do.