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Swaga

This is my post-Blogher Swag-Saga.  SWAGA.

To be perfectly clear, I did not receive high-value swag - no video cameras, laptops, Crocs - just your basic Mr. Potatohead, some deoderant, and 9 USB drives.  But I decided I had to FedEx some of this stuff home because my bag would be too weighed down by three bottles of hair products that were given to me directly by Luke O'Connor after he did my hair, as evidenced here:

Never mind the fact that Suave products cost, like, $2.50 each, I had to send them home. Along with some kids' toys and about 50 business cards that I deemed were too heavy to put in my checked baggage. 

There was a FedEx pack-n-ship service that a sponsor provided for us, and I felt really important, FedExing myself a box of anti-frizz cream and coupons and oh yes, Aquaphor products. I freakin' LOVE Aquaphor.

After I returned home I checked the status of my package, because, I just couldn't wait to wash my hair with new shampoo. Actually, it was more like, I wanted to go through the heavy business cards and look up all the bloggers I met.  And the FedEx tracking site said there was no such tracking number. 

Following that, I started up a Twit-storm:

My box of BlogHer swag that I sent to myself never arrived. FedEx has no record of it. Anyone else have this issue? #blogher09

Not to belabor this, but, FedEx, how does a package just disappear without a trace? [yes, I saw Castaway]. Tracking number unknown, my ass!

Did I also mention - all the business cards I collected at #blogher09 were in the fedex box that vanished? that's what I'm most upset about

I also bitched about the fact that I put my $100 coupon for a new Bissell vacuum cleaner in that box and I really wanted to buy the vacuum.  Bissell tweeted me and said they were sorry about the lost package and to message them and they'd get me a new coupon.

Then a guy who worked at FedEx tweeted me to "email @fedexrobin at fedex-robin@fedex.com and she can help." I emailed Fedex Robin whose Twitter tagline is "Delivering the Purple Promise." 

Meantime, I got a call from my bank - and for this I have to give props to Bank of America and the Brighter Planet credit card.  No earthly rewards from this card, just carbon offset credits for the earth. They contacted me to alert to some potential fraud on my account.  Some "unusual activity" - and I thought, I've only had the card for a month, how do you know what's usual and not usual? Apparently the pack-n-ship people ran the card through a few too many times and the bank blocked the card.  Oooooh, so THAT'S why my card didn't work at the grocery store the day before. 

I explained all this to the lovely Robin who was working to find my swag box. She emailed me with almost daily status updates, I was called by the central FedEx Chicago facility, she contacted the hotel, the sponsor, the conference planners. Then, two weeks later, a FedEx guy in Chicago called to tell me they found my package. 

Got the package on Friday. It was packed full of goodies I didn't even remember packing, and I'm so glad to have my free shit.

This whole experience awed me.  The direct, immediate connections between people on Twitter.

The SWAGA ends.

so now all I have to complain about is the fucked up formatting of this post. WTF typepad?!

Salty D. is a matchmaker

This is what D. does when he comes home from work or wakes up on a Saturday: he goes to dozens of news sites and blogs and reads about Israel.  Or Syracuse University athletics. But these days, mostly Israel.  He has a fierce loyalty to the nation of Israel even though he has never been there and it never seems to be the right time to go and look up family. Especially now.  This is not a criticism of my husband, it's a fact and it's one of those attributes that always seems to surprise people who look at him and decide they know who he is and what he's into before getting to know him.  In short, it's one of the reasons I love him, because he, unlike me, has a firm committment and belief from which he will not waver. 

I wish I could say the same thing about his undying loyalty to Syracuse football, but, that's a losing battle. Literally.

Recently Salty D. has been bugging me to check out this blog by a born-American-girl-living-in-Israel who was pelted with shrapnel from a suicide bomber in Jerusalem a few years ago.  He said, "She has your sense of humor, you really should read her!"

And then every day for the past week, he said, "Did you read her yet? Did you?"  OK, OK.  Since I'm reading again, I'll check her out.

Gila is an excellent writer, showing us a world that is hard for me to even imagine. Her story of being bombed made me sick and sorrowful and then I felt absolutely pathetic because I'm a puffy American sitting in my suburban nest bitching about cold temperatures and Gila is not a victim we should pity. 

So then I found her attitude very comforting and smart.  And she understands the importance of good hair and shoes, even post-bombing.

Please read My Shrapnel.

jitterbug

August has expresswayed itself right by me! WTF!  This summer I only worked in the yard one time (and it shows!) and only read two books (on paper,for leisure) and only made gazpacho once.  But it's summer until the season officially changes!   

I also can't believe that I'm going on vacation again.  It's been awesome to leave town for new fun so often this past year or so. Staycation my ass.

Ok, so we're not going far away except in spirit.  I'm prepping for 6 days down the Jersey shore.  To me this means loading up the car with towels blankets gin chairs books-I-won't-read gatorade music poptarts beer and our new GPS.  Not that I need to know where to go, but I'm so excited that I broke down and bought one.  I see it as an investment in my relationship with Salty D., so there's no more "WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE YOU GOT US LOST AGAIN!" little conversations.  Yes, my steering wheel is broken from one of those.  And we got Gabby the GPS woman voice to tell me what street to turn onto so I don't have to measure distance in my mind (Holla at my boys!) 

D. prepares for the trip by gassing up the bike.  Jersey Boy doesn't understand the Pennsylvania natives overstuffing the car trunk (boot for you Beth!) as if there aren't any grocery stores down south. 

The other pre-beach-vacation ritual is dumping out all of our saved change since January and spending the evening rolling it into little wrappers.  I know there are such things as CoinStars but we're talking about camping out on the living room floor in front of bad TV counting pennies with my cynical husband... it's a really good togetherness activity. This year we have $178 for Atlantic City baby!  I hope Obama's change is just as beneficial to us.

I'm going on many missions today, but primarily to get away from D. because Syracuse football season has kicked in and I don't have earplugs (which of course explains the thickening deafness since the Rancid show.)  Today is S.U. vs. Northwestern, or as I called it, The Battle of the Best Journalism Schools in the Nation.

Happy birthday!

I will soon turn 41.  I'm kind of excited about this because I'm tired of saying "I just turned 40!" and having someone respond, "Oooooooh..."  It's not that bad once you get used to it. You can get used to anything after a couple months, just like a train rolling by your window every 18 minutes. 

Plus, I'm the smartest I've ever been.

Here's some advice I'd like to pass along to those of you who are not yet fortunate enough to be in your forties:

1. Always get the smallest serving. You don't need a super Big Gulp of soda pop or a venti latte.  You're really not that dehydrated or tired, you're probably just pre-diabetic.
2. Take care of your feet or they will rebel against you, believe you me.  No Choo is worth having ugly hurty feet.  Sad but true.
3. If you have a washing machine you really don't need all those shirts.
4. Isn't it great to have so many friends from all your jobs and families and blogs and teams and schools and Facebook?  Yes!!  But you don't have to keep up with every single one of them, so stop apologizing.  And stop lying - do you really miss Missy K. from the swim team soooo much?  Seriously?   You know who your true friends are, keep them close to your heart.  Remember, one is silver and the other gold.  After months or years of not seeing or talking to one another, you'll fall right back into gold medal territory. 
5. Don't stand next to the speakers at a rock show. What??!
6. Unless you work in tv, tv is not important.  Maybe even if that's your source of income it's not important either.
7. Blood is not necessarily thicker than water.
8. Don't let the internet make you stupid. 
9. Don't feel guilty about getting rid of stuff.  They're just things.
10. People really don't give a shit how old you are once you turn 21. Unless you're 100.

the visitor

I am anxiously awaiting the arrival of Salty D's college roommate, E.

D & E were so close that their (guy) friends called them "Cock & Balls."  Guess which one my husband was.

Anyway, the last time I saw E. was just before he entered a 12-step rehab program. He's been sober for 18 years and I've never talked to him sober.   

He's stopping by on his way to New Jersey and I just made deviled eggs and muffalata and roast beef & cheddar sandwiches and iced tea and real lemonade, because I have this fantasy of being the perfect hostess from 1959.

So the legendary story of how we all met is thus. Or this.  I was with my roommate Ann in a bar celebrating the final finals of our final year of college, and we were, well, smashed. 

Ann talked to E. first and was spitting vodka at him through a straw pretending to bless him with holy water.  Girls, that's a great pick-up strategy.  Got him all pissed off but he was so hammered I guess it didn't matter. I was dancing on a barstool to Guns-n-Roses and the bartender demanded I cease, so I jumped off the stool and landed right next to D. and that's how we met.  Touching, isn't it?

Ann & E. and D. & Me then spent the next three months together on a summer-long double date enhanced by lots of chemicals, menial jobs, road trips, and dining at all-you-can-eat happy hours all over town.  Whatever we could do to keep the real world at bay.

I think I know why D. and E. stopped talking - because E. had to go to rehab and D. continued to party. I have no idea why Ann and I stopped talking.  That's the beauty of time.  She called me a few years ago to apologize, and even though I didn't remember what-for, I accepted and apologized right back for whatever hand I had in whatever rift there was.  But we haven't talked since the apology.

Apparently, E. and Ann had a kid together but decided not to marry, and then E. decided to marry Ann's best friend and have more kids with the friend.  Ooooh. That's where it gets dicey.

So I don't know today how much I can talk about Ann.  My guess is, not so much.  And we certainly can't talk about the college years' shenanigans, because most of it we don't remember anyway.

Meanwhile, the half of the "Cock & Balls" that I live with is completely calm and happy about the visit.  I've been cleaning and fussing about, and he's totally laid back.

p.s. OK, the visitor is here.  He's the same funny guy as I remember, just without running into walls or falling down drunk or tripping his face off.  This is good.  I left the boys alone to bond over stogies and I finished off the deviled eggs. 

p.p.s. We were part of Step 9, he said.    

Weekend Mini-break! Summer in the City!

Sister Kristin and I are spending this coming weekend in NYC. 

Our itinerary includes:

Murakami show @ Brooklyn Museum

Buying new skivvies at Orchard Corset

Eating a giant sandwich at Katz's Deli

Seeking out really,really good chocolate. And ice cream. And cupcakes.

Drinking a really, really good summery drink or two

Any suggestions, especially for Brooklyn eateries around the museum?

Note to self:  Purchase foot blister prevention accessories

Copyright issue: photo borrowed from someone's Flickrstream, thanks!

Roll 'em - part 2

I don't want to jinx anything, but I feel like I'm on the right side of Lady Luck at this moment.

People all around me are winning big.  Not long ago, a friend whose family had a very bad past year went to Atlantic City, played the $5 slots, and won $6,000.  My retired aunt went to Vegas, played the penny slots, and won $1,200.  Just today I learned that another relative went to an "Indian Casino" and played those stupid pull-tab thingies, and scored $20,000. 

I feel like I should go back to Bingo night to try for the $200 jackpot.

Maybe you want to rub my shoulders for your own good luck?  Because I could really use a shoulder massage. 

You are somebody, too!

I learned about The Great Interview Experiment from Peeved Michelle and decided, hey, another vehicle to indulge my inner Leo!  Actually, I'm excited to meet other blog writers.  And a tiny bit intimidated.

This is what's happening:

Stacy of La Boudoir interviews Laura (me.)
Laura interviews Solomon Broad of Things I'm Grateful For.

They appear to be quite smart.

I'll post the interviews here, of course, so you can meet them too.