Today, it's Excuses

So, just so y'all don't get too jaded, and think, "What?! 3 Blog Posts and she's never coming back again?!" - Chill bebe. I'm on vacay for a week. But no worries: I'm at Walt Disney World in Orlando, and trust me - As much as I love a good trip to WDW, it never ceases to add much fuel to my hatred. If it's not people who wander around with their heads buried in a park map, it's Brazilian Tour Groups (or BTG's, to the initiated).

ANYWAY. Don't give up hope yet. I'll be back with a new blog hopefully Sunday. One just dripping with hate-city. Because you know what I hate? Filling up my heart with love at the happiest place on earth.

Today, it's store-bought Fireworks

So, growing up in WV, right around the 4th of July, if one wanted to buy fireworks, one only had to go right across the Ohio River into Marietta, Ohio, where there was always an "Eagle Fireworks" tent set up. In later years, Eagle managed to make enough money during the holiday to build a permanent storefront for their endeavor, much to my chagrin.

You see, the occasional sparkler notwithstanding, I hate store-bought fireworks. My husband always says that once you see fireworks at Walt Disney World, other fireworks simply pale in comparison. 

 

Where else in America can you find an "iced" castle with fireworks exploding over it (almost) every GD night of the week? (Ok, ok. Disneyland too)

And, after having witnessed shitty Morgantown fireworks every 4th (and not-so-shitty, but still far below WDW, Pittsburgh fireworks), I'd have to agree. 

Which is why my hatred for store-bought fireworks endures and blazes with the fire of 100 sparklers. Because even Morgantown's lame-ass patriotic show every year is still nowhere near as annoying and lame as you buying $100 worth of bottle rockets, "screamers", Roman Candles, "light your asses on fire" and "burn your pubes off," and then setting them off in your back yard.

And speaking of you buying fireworks, let's just take a second to reflect on the business that you're buying from. Most often, these "retailers" are tents set up by the side of the road, or in Wal-Mart parking lots, on the hottest days of the year. And there's usually a plethora of "NO SMOKING" signs sprinkled liberally throughout the joint. Yet there's always some kind of ne'er do-well running the place, and there's the customary soft-pack of cigarettes poking out of his pocket. (Or, if you're really, truly blessed - it's rolled up in the sleeve, with the "lucky" one tucked behind the ear). Plus, didn't I mumble something earlier about HOTTEST DAYS OF THE SUMMER and RIGHT BESIDE CARS, which just has me jumping for joy about the safety of the situation.

Seriously. I've got a sneaking suspicion that I'm not going to live to a ripe old age. But I don't think I'll die prematurely of a heart attack, or even lung cancer (Gooooo 'Rettes!). No, I think the Grim Reaper (or Grimm, all you Harry Potter fans!) is going to come at me in the form of a misplaced cigarette ash, after being dragged to one of these gunpowder hell-holes by a well-intentioned friend ("See, fireworks stores aren't so baaaddddd - Oh NOOOOOOOOO!" KABOOM).

ANYWAY, where was I? So, back to the actual fireworks themselves - I just don't see the appeal of almost lighting yourself on fire, and smelling like gunpowder, every single time. (And no: "But Molly, you smoke, and sometimes you almost light yourself on fire, and you almost always smell of gunpowder, even after you showered" jokes). For one piddly bang. That's like going to the trouble of wearing lingerie for a one-minute man. If it takes more time to get it set up and rarin' to go than it does for the big "bang," you're working entirely too hard, my friends. 

Aaaaand again, I got off course. But yeah. Fireworks in your backyard are annoying, and take too long to set up for too little of a payment. Also, they drive my animals (and every other animal within a 2 block radius) insane; which, in turn, makes me crazy as well. Because not only do I have to listen to "WHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZ bang" every 4 minutes, but in the midst of the actual cracker going off, and you setting up the next round of torture, I get to listen to the cacophony of dogs yelping and howling as you not only set their nerves on edge, but also make their ears bleed. 

And it's even worse - at least in the north, we only had to put up with this bullshit once a year, usually on, or around the 4th of July. But here in the south, it's customary to also set off fireworks for New Year's as well. Huzzah. I live in a gated community where we can't park our cars on the street overnight. Can't there be some kind of ordinance in the by-laws stating that douchebag neighbors can't set off fireworks within 3 blocks of my house? I can't wait to see what the next "celebration" is around here. Probably the Mudbug Festival, or some other completely moronic, completely made-up circumstance.

Happy motherfucking holiday.

Today, it's eBayers

So, I already have to apologize for my lack of updates. I've meant this to be a blog updated almost daily, but already, it's been 5 days since my first post. The only thing I can say is that sometimes life gets in your way...and sometimes your friend gets married unexpectedly, and then packs up and moves to Hawaii, and you have to help her/toast her/mourn her passing. And that shit takes time.

But wait...What was I saying again? The only thing I hate more than packing and moving myself is helping others pack and move...hold on. That's not where I was going with that. Let's start again.

So anyway...The only thing I hate more than packing and moving is apologizing for my lack of motivation and updates. So, enough of the lamentations.

Today's topic is the one that actually inspired me to write a blog in the first place. I sell a lot of things on eBay, and I like to believe that my auctions are very fair as far as shipping goes, and pretty self-explanatory and to-the-point.

I use nice font, and I try to be as succinct about what, exactly it is that you're buying from me. I'm really not even trying to make money, so much as I am actually just trying to declutter my life. Which is why I get so infuriated with the following people on eBay:

1. "Do you combine shipping on multiple items?"

Listen. I wouldn't have such a problem with this question if it didn't say specifically on the item description that shipping is $.99 for each additional item, whether it's in the US or overseas. (Which, by the way, I totally lose money on. See what a nice person I am?)Not only do I put it in the item description paragraph, but if you click on the little tab on the auction that says, "Shipping" on it, it also brings up a page with very detailed shipping options. And finally, when some wingnut DOES inevitably ask me this ridiculous question, I make sure the answer is posted publicly, just in case you missed it the first 2 times.

So I guess my biggest question here is, since these people obviously can't read, why do they bother to message me for an answer to a question that they're going to be utterly incapable of deciphering my reply to? Sometimes, I feel like writing my answer in Wingdings font, because clearly, pictures are the only thing they can understand.

Further, I'd just like to add that every time I put up multiple-item auctions, I get this question for almost every single item I've listed. Do you know, out of the people that asked about the multiple shipping, how many of them actually win these multiple auctions?

Let me give you a hint. It's going to start with "N", and end with "un". That's right. Not only did you waste my time because you're half-retarded (and I say half, because they're attempting to use eBay, which is something that I only assume full-retards can't do...then again, I could be wrong here!), but then you didn't even win all these auctions that you were soooooo sure you were going to get. FUCK OFF! Seriously - I have never had someone win multiple auctions from me who has ever asked me about combined shipping. NEVER.

2. "Does this come from a pet-free/smoke-free household?"

So, I sell a lot of vinyl toys. They're pretty simple, about 3 inches tall, and completely made of vinyl parts. Now, clothes, books, fabric...I get that. You don't want to open that box and get partial lung cancer just from the secondhand smoke that comes wafting out. But these toys - well, they already smell like shit. They smell like factories in China that may or may not have lead poisoning just floating around in the air.

Further, I'm fairly certain that even if I put the vinyl into fishbowl, put Press 'n' Seal around the top to make it airtight, poked a tiny hole in it with a straw, smoked a pack of cigarettes and blew the smoke into the straw, thereby submersing the vinyl in a pack's worth of cigarette smoke, and left it in this cancer chamber for a week, I could totally pull the vinyl out, wipe it down with some "Fabuloso (this hella-cheap cleaner I get at Target/Wal-Mart), and not only will it NOT smell of cigarettes and still retain some of that "Made in Communist China with tiny bits of Lead" odor, but also, any "pet dander" from my 3 cats and 1 dog will also magically disappear. (You didn't think I'd find a way to bring the animals into it, did you?!)

3. "Even though I paid less for shipping than it actually cost you to package and ship, I'm still not happy with the shipping."

I seriously had a guy email me this the other day. First, a little background: Those vinyl toys I was talking about come in 4x4x4 inch boxes. Most of the time, if I ever buy them myself on eBay, the sellers flatten the box and mail the vinyl itself, in an envelope with the original box just thrown in the envelope somewhere. Furthermore, unlike a collectible Barbie, you actually have to OPEN these boxes (which are glued with some kind of epoxy that's equal to the strength of 15 men) in order to see what's inside. Keep that in mind.

I, however, have found bubble-envelopes that are just big enough to hold the vinyl toy, in its box, inside the envelope. To circumvent any angry postal workers that want to throw a 10lb box onto my tiny envelope, I write all over the outside, "DO NOT CRUSH!!!!!" and yes, it is accompanied by the requisite 10 exclamation points.

So anyway, this douche-nozzle writes me that he received his package. His vinyl was in perfect condition, but he's all butt-hurt because the box was crushed, and, in his opinion, that devalues the item he bought. Keep in mind that this was a $10 vinyl that I sold, that he bought for $6, and $1.99 s/h. So, he gets it for a song. I threw in the 3-day shipping because it was like, $.45 more than the parcel post, even though it cost ME, and he's bitching because his box arrived a little smashed. The box that was already in less-than-perfect condition because I had to bust through this crazy-glue lockbox to open it in the first place. The box that was put in the bubble-wrap envelope, covered in admonitions to not crush, followed by exclamation points out the ass.

And he thinks he's going to get some kind of refund. The only thing he got was a very explicit email telling him exactly where he could put his semi-crushed, "completely devalued" box. Sideways. And it was accompanied by the requisite FUCK YOU, followed by 13 exclamation points.

4. "Sellers who charge obscene amounts to ship because they're either A). Greedy, or B). Too stupid to take the box to the post office beforehand and find out, so they use the "Shipping Calculator" that eBay so thoughtfully provides, and are too incompetent to fill it out correctly. Hence, charging $6 for parcel post shipping on a 3" toy that literally costs me $1.97 to ship in 3 days anywhere in the country."

That was pretty self-explanatory, right?

Ugh.

So, reading back over these, I realized I only wrote about 4 things that eBayers do to piss me off. However, even proof-reading this list had my blood pressure boiling. Do any of you have some redonkulous eBay stories to share? Can you relate? Let me know in the comment section. Because you know what I hate right now? People who lurk on my blog!

So...What's This All About, Again?

One of my New Year's Resolutions (actually, my only resolution), was to "do" a blog in 2010. What can I say - I'd just watched Julie and Julia, and thought, "Hell, if Amy Adams can do it - stupid, annoying, constantly happy actress that she is - so can I!" (This is the part where you spare me the lecture about how actors are only playing a role, and personality-wise, they're not truly the people they portray on screen. Just shut it - Christian Bale really is a douche nozzle, and his little tirade on the set of Terminator: Suckfest last year just confirmed something I've been saying for years!) 

One thing you'll probably notice about my blog is that I have a tendency to go off on a tangent. For example, the above word vomit. Sometimes, my mind races a million miles a minute (or, a quarter of a mile a second, to paraphrase Vin Diesel), and if I don't get it all out, I might do something crazy - like punch a wall. Or insult some people on Facebook. So pretend it's a form of Tourettes - I mean, you wouldn't criticize a person with a disability, would you? (Actually, if you would, you're probably my kind of person, but again...I digress.)

Anyway, once I'd made up my mind to actually sit down and write out some of this verbal diarrhea, there came a question of topic. Stupid clichés tell you to write about what you know (and stupid authors repeat that shit verbatim!). The problem is, I don't really know a whole lot about any one specific thing (although I know a ridiculous amount of something about anything)...but wait a tick...

There's one topic I can talk about endlessly, 24/7/365 - Hate. My family and friends are always talking about how exciting and hilarious it is when I get really fired up (or maybe they just say that so I don't try to fight them), but I'm sure they're probably tired of listening to my bitching, so I thought, "Why not make daily lists of my hatred for all the world to see?"

For those of you who think, "Hate's such a strong word," or, "There's too much in life to love to waste time on hate," or, "When we don't know who to hate, we hate ourselves," or some other psycho-babble bullshit - spare me the lecture. I'm perfectly happy in my hatred of people, places, and things (and sometimes qualities and actions). In fact, one could say that for me, "To Hate is Molly; to forgive...absurd." I love to hate; I live to hate; and it's probably true that I'm happiest when I'm hating on something or someone. Because the best thing about hate is that as soon as you put it out there; you dust that dirt off your shoulders - you'll find that there's plenty of room in your heart for more hate! And the best part about blogging about the various things that you hate is that you'll always find someone on the internet who feels the exact same way. (I mean, seriously - in a world with 2 Girls, 1 Cup, you really shouldn't be surprised that someone hates puppies, cuddling, or Christmas).

So think of this blog as a one-on-one counseling session. I'll put it out there, and you can feel comforted in the fact that somewhere, in a shithole called Shreveport, there's a very hateful woman who's willing to write the kinds of things you never thought to say. 

By the way, if you've made it this far, I'm sure it goes without saying that this blog is going to be offensive. I love to curse, and often punctuate my sentences with a good "fuck" or "cunt" instead of apostrophes and commas. Please don't leave me messages telling me how offended you really are - because the old standard goes that if you put a bunch of monkeys with typewriters in a room for 100 years...well, I'm not saying that what I'm writing is Shakespeare, or flinging my own poop around, but I'm positive that at some point, something that I say or complain about is going to offend somebody, and if that day comes when that someone is you, well, I'd be just as happy if instead of calling me a bitch, you just go your merry little way, and find some blog about kittens and Valentine's hearts that makes you a little happier. 

And for the record - I know I'm a bitch. I know I have a filthy mouth. And I know plenty of people who hate me. So please, spare me those arguments. Because I do love to argue with creative people...but you know what I hate right now? People that argue without a leg to stand on. (Excluding pirates. Because pirates are pretty awesome, especially if they have a peg-leg. And a parrot).

So until I post again (and that's hopefully sooner rather than later), remember: "It's better to be hated for who you are, than loved for someone you are not." Some famous Frenchman won a Nobel Prize for that shit!