Dear Madam, I have a word or two for you.

I'm sorry to undermine the false sense of power with which you are attempting to lord over me, threatening to stop buying from us and report me to the owner of the company, but I'm afraid the customer is not always right.  When is there such a case is this?

Well, right now.

We're not going to refund your shipping because our policy - of which you have been well informed, several times - clearly states that when a product is returned, we will refund the item price, minus the shipping.  We already did you a favor by covering the return shipping and having UPS go pick up the product from you.

As for your severe papaya allergy, let me be perfectly clear: OUR PRODUCT DOES NOT HAVE PAPAYA IN IT!  We could not have lied to you about the contents of the beverage, because there is NO PAPAYA in that product, or ANY of our products, ever since the papaya soap was discontinued A YEAR AGO.  And yes, the ingredients are listed right there on the side of the box.  Go get yourself some glasses if you can't see them.

Look, between the returns, the disputed payments on the products you still have, and the measly ten dollars an hour I'm being paid to attempt to reason with you, you're actually costing us more money than you're bringing in.

Do you know what that means?

Bite me.



**siiiiigh**  I wish I had the moxy to actually say that on the phone.

Shady Shawn, Victor Viagra, Ungrateful Ugbert and Clara Colonoscopy, Meet Stanley Stoner.

Today I met god.  He lives in New York.  I called him from work to tell him we weren't able to process his order, because his credit card declined.

Pretty sure he was high.

"The memories," he said in his slow, slurred speech.  "You can't even know the things I remember.  The things I've done."

"Um... oh?" I responded as visions of serial killers and/or vampires flashed through my mind.  I double checked his location - New York was pretty far away, but I'd still better not give him a reason to take a sudden interest in Utah.

"What would you think," he asked, his voice holding a hint of plea, "if I was the only man on earth?  The only one.  What would you think?"

Gulp.  "Um, well, I think that would be very interesting."

"Interesting," he responded.  It sounded like he was caressing the word, turning it around and around in his hands.  "I like how you said that.  Interesting."

This was about the point where I considered saying, "What?  I'm sorry, what was that?  I can't hear you.  I think your phone is-" *hang up*  But, he continued. 

"Do you know about King Tut?"

This was weird, but definitely less creepy.  "King Tut?  Yeah, of course!"

"King Tut was small and frail.  Tut was actually a girl disguised as a boy."

"Wow... that's cool."  I jumped onto google to see what snopes had to say about that one.  Nothing.  I couldn't find anything of the sort.

"You know the pyramid of Giza?"

"Yep.  I know that one too."

"That's mine."

Heh... yeah.  I must truly be in the presence of - or at least on the phone with - someone great.  Good think he's a fairly safe 3,000 miles away.

I made sure I had a pleasant smile in my voice, to possibly conceal any hint of irony.  "The whole pyramid!  Wow.  How does that work?"

"I know.  It sounds ludicrous, right?  But you have to accept who I am.  Don't ever lie to me, because I will know immediately.  I am the man.  You have to accept that.  I'm not getting older.  I will be young for eternity.  I am all-powerful."

**blinkblink**

"Wow."

"I have to find the right woman.  I have to choose a girl very, very carefully, and I need to stay out of the spotlight.  Do you know Kim Kardashian?"

"Yeeeeaaaaahhhhh..."

"I would never choose Kim Kardashian.  She's a fool's choice.  A woman who gets married to another man, in the spotlight.  No.  She's not right for me.  Do you know Brad Pitt?"

"Ummmm..."

"Remember when all the women said he was the sexiest man alive?  That's me."

"Wow."

"I need you to call me back.  Later today, in the afternoon.  Can you call me?"

The correct answer would be, "I'm sorry, Sir, but my shift is over, and as soon as I finish here, I'm going to the Northern Mariana Islands.  Also, it's my last day.  I got a new job plucking geese for head dresses to be worn at the next Ascot races." 

What I found myself saying was, "Oh, sure.  Of course.  Whatever you want."

Could it be he really is all-powerful?

Oh dear...

What happens when a wizard gives me the ability to time travel... part 1.

Last night I was having a conversation with my good old friend, Kunkee.  We talked about a lot of stuff, including the Persian Empire.  He's been studying this a lot, thanks to his Civ class, and it really struck me how very little we know.  Sure, we have historical records, and some archaeological stuff, but really, how much do we actually know about that 2500 year old civilization?

Which, of course, leads to the question: how much will the world know about our civilization in another 2500 years?  We discussed it a little bit, and I brought up the point that everything in this world is digital.  Kunkee added that not only is information all digital, but most of our civilization is very transient.  Glass and steel skyscrapers don't last like brick and stone, and wood doesn't last at all.  Heck, a couple years ago we had to replace the siding on the house I grew up in because it was rotting away, and we built that house when I was nine!  I've driven by so many barns built 100 years ago, and there's not much left - covered in vines with trees growing through the roof, falling boards, only the bare frame of a building.  Can you imagine what will be left of our world in a thousand years?  Two thousand?

My main concern is the digitization, though.  I mean, how long can it last?  The information is stored on hard drives, which, honestly, I'm lucky if I can get a jump drive to survive 5 years.  Hard copies of things are becoming more and more rare.  Who sends snail mail anymore?  Newspapers still exist but they're becoming less used and will probably give way to online news in a very short time.  And don't even get me started on ebooks. 

So, with that question burning in my mind, I feigned exhaustion, kicked Kunkee out, and slipped into my room to perform some simple magic.  A few years ago, I came across a wizard.  He was a nut.  That's the thing about magic.  If you're not careful with it, you might accidentally transform yourself into something you don't want to be - in his case, a cashew.

Now, being a cashew, he really couldn't do anything about it.  He still had his mind intact (his form of transformation allowed for that, though don't ask me how, because I still can't figure out where he put his mind when he was shaped like a crescent rat turd), so he was able to cast simple spells.  Anything more complicated than manipulating the elements generally called for a potion or at the very least a staff to channel the magic, so he was very much stuck.

To make a long story short (so we can get on to the longer story), I discovered him and didn't eat him, because I loathe nuts with a burning passion, and through a series of really scary moments where he tried manipulating the elements to tell me he wasn't actually a nut (don't even get me started on the time he created a tornado in the toilet), I discovered his wizardness and was able to use his potion brewing manual to turn him back into a human. 

He offered me my choice of his amulets as a thank you for preventing him from being roasted, salted and stuck in a jar (if that had happened his only defense would have been to spell the jar's lid so not even Tarzan could pry it off).  I had a rough time choosing between flight and time travel, but finally settled on the latter so that I could go visit a seven year old Clarke and try to convince him he was actually a Tanzanian peasant that got misplaced by his mother, carried off by a man-eating tanager, rescued by monkeys in Brazil, kidnapped from the monkeys by American poachers, and sold on the black market, where he was bought by our parents who thought he was a doll and bought him as a toy for me to play with, which makes me their favorite, so nyah.  Unfortunately, when I tried to tell him all of that, he explained that was impossible, because tanagers are from the thraupidae family, which is far too small to carry off a baby, and even though they are an omnivorous species, their meat eating tendencies do not extend past insects.

Anyway, back to the original story, the wizard gave me the time travel amulet, and I now visit him around the holidays, where we sing Christmas carols, drink spiced cider and eat enchanted fudge.

So, last night, I decided to use my time travel amulet to answer my own question.  How much would mankind of the future know about our civilization?

I clutched the amulet to my chest, and decided on a date.  I decided to make it in spring so that if something went wrong and I had to stay for a couple months or so, I wouldn't have to deal with winter.  One never knows what they'll find in the future.  With the date chosen, I repeated it over and over in my mind.

April 25 (not too hot, not too cold - all you'll need is a light jacket!), 4512.  April 25, 4512.  April 25, 4512.  April...

As the world melted around me, I realized I had forgotten that's it's impossible to know whether or not the space you are occupying is going to be occupied by something else in 2500.5 years.

That's why traveling to the future is almost never a good idea.


To be continued...

Status on Research Paper for Capstone Class

Choose topic: Check!

Preliminary research: Check!

Come up with thesis: Check!

In depth research: Ooooooh, shoot.  My thesis holds absolutely no water at all.  In fact, I not only didn't know enough about the topic, I didn't know enough about the time period for my conclusions to make any sense whatsoever.

Which puts us right back at step two.  I have a topic.  That's it.  No thesis, no research, no idea of what the heck to write about.

20 pages due in 5 days, and I'm starting from scratch.

Once upon a time there was a piece of toast.  It looked just like me.  I am toast.  The end.

Cleanliness is next to Godliness... and might be God's way of answering prayers.

So, having not been to my own ward for a while, I'm a little backed up on tithing.  I have 2 paychecks and a photography job (grrr... I've got a rant and a half about that one) that haven't had tithing paid yet.  This morning I went to grab my checkbook, knowing I was a little low on checks, and found that my checkbook was actually out of checks.  Never fear, I have more in a box... somewhere... and that box is probably in another box of random stuff I never use... somewhere... oh man.

So, I began searching.  First I checked my desk.  Nope.  Then I checked my cubbies.  Nope.  Then I checked the boxes under my bed.  Nope.  Then I checked my closet, and all the shelves in my closet.  Nope, nope.  I sighed, absolutely resigned that I was going to have to dig through the storage closet, find my 2 storage bins that Stephanie "organized" to the back and bottom of everything, and get them out of there.  So, I started digging.  I dug and dug and dug until I was roughly underneath Saskatchewan.  Finally, I found my bins.  I opened the first one: a couple boxes for electronic stuff and a tea set I "won" at work (and by "won" I mean last year they were trying to clear out their inventory before taxes and gave away all sorts of stuff they'd never sell).  No checks.  In the second bin was my old backpack, a volleyball, a broken CD player, and some other odds and ends.  My jiujitsu gi was in there too.  No checks.

That's where the problem started.  I had officially checked EVERYWHERE that it could possibly be.  The only other place in the apartment that houses stuff I own is the bathroom, and I'm not going to put checks in the bathroom.  I even just reorganized my bookcase this morning.  Nothing!

I had this thought - You know, I should make a list of all my stuff I hardly ever use and where I put it, so that when I do finally need it, I won't have completely lost it.  But, I'll never make that list.  If I make a list to keep me from losing my stuff, I will inevitably lose the list.

So, I decided to eat breakfast.  I know, super resourceful, aren't I?  While praying over my food, I threw in a, "And please help me to find my box of checks... you know, so I can pay tithing."

Sometimes I wonder if the little thoughts we have while praying, that are not a part of our "official" prayer, get sent up to heaven as well.  Like, "I'm going through this trouble so I can obey You, Lord, so a little help would be nice."  I wouldn't actually say it in a prayer, because it's a little disrespectful, and I pay tithing for more reasons than just obedience, so I'm not actually that whiny about it, but the thought did drift across my mind while praying...

Anyway, I digress.  So, I ate my breakfast, put my cereal and milk away, then went to wash my bowl and spoon.  While washing my bowl and spoon, I noticed the sink was pretty full, including cookie sheets, bowls, and my crystal glasses, which had been put to grand use at a sleepover where we ate Oreos and cheesecake cupcakes and drank Martinelli's sparkling apple-grape cider from my martini glasses.  I decided to do the dishes so I could put my glasses away before they broke.  Then I decided not to, because I only had so much time to search for my checks before church, and the dishes could wait until after church.  Then that little voice in the back of my head... which really isn't a voice... it's more like a decision I didn't make myself... said I should just get the work done while I was thinking about it and get my glasses put away.

So, I scrubbed the cookie sheet and put the silverware in the rack (handles down... Stephanie would be so proud of me) and loaded bowls and tupperware and whatever else into the dishwasher, then gently hand washed my crystal glasses.  When the glasses were clean, I took them into my room, got a chair to make myself tall enough to reach where my glasses go, and put them on the top shelf of that bookshelf that's over my window. 

Turns out I never thought to look on those shelves above my window.  As I put the glasses away, I realized that off to the left side was a stack of papers - stuff like phone bills, bank statements, Stadium Terrace rule book, etc. - and on top of the papers?  A box of checks!

I climbed off the chair and just laughed.  Thank you, Lord!  Answer to my prayer?  Do the dishes.

So, that's my spiritual thought for this lovely Sunday.  God answers prayers, and doing the dishes is a good thing.  The end.

Why Savannah did the dishes.

My apartment is a wreck.  It kinda reminds me of when I was a kid, how I couldn't keep my room clean.

Well... I still can't keep my room clean.

But this isn't about my room!  I mean, at least when the clutter and debris get out of hand it really bothers me and I clean it.  That's a vast improvement from the room I cleaned semi-annually as a teenager... the room that caused my mom to say, "Hey, let's finish the basement so Savannah's room can be two floors below mine and I won't have to wear a hazmat suit to walk through my house!"

Anyway, remember what I said about out-of-hand debris bothering me?  Well...

IT'S BOTHERING ME!!!

Unfortunately, my room is the least of it (especially now that I've cleaned it).  See, one roommate had a huge project that took up residence in the front room, and another roommate has her school stuff in the front room, and one roommate has all her school/work/life stuff in the front room, and there is a bunch of unclaimed mail that hasn't been removed from the table yet, somebody unloaded the contents of the storage closet into the front room, and somebody decided to move all the flower vases onto the table but not put flowers in them, and the pitchers that were in the way of the vases made it onto the table too, and the dishwasher exploded and flooded the kitchen and the carpet in the front room so the padding under the carpet has been removed and the carpet is all pulled up, there is shredded padding all over the house, the dishes have been piling in the sink and on the counters and table and stove top, and the whole place is in desperate need of a solid vacuuming.... but it's kinda hard to vacuum when so much clutter is in the way.  With all the stuff on the table, there's no where to sit when I eat, and with all the stuff on the couches, there's no where to sit period.

Basically, if my 13 year old self saw the level of bothered I'm getting over this, she'd look at the path she had carved in the clutter on her floor, shrug her shoulders and say, "Huh.  Weird."

And that is why I did the dishes.