To the Ranter go the Spoils

I think I've clearly established, if not via the title of this blog, than definitely in several of my past posts, that ranting is a part of me, and I'm not afraid to go there.  And by going there, I mean make a fuss, a ruckus, or even a scene [depending on my mood, blood sugar levels, and the severity of the situation] in public when I feel as though someone is trying to get one over on me--especially when it comes to money. So when I decided to purchase my first DSLR camera a few months ago, I knew it would be an investment, and promptly did my research, and selected the shiny new camera of my dreams. I made a plan to save the cash for this camera, and did what any smart shopper would do--I stalked this camera on every website available online for weeks. I went to visit it in person at Best Buy to play around with it, and get a feel for it--and to ask the sales associate when/if it would go on sale. When it comes to big purchases, I don't play. I had a meticulously detailed plan of how, when, and where I would purchase my camera, and I was fairly pleased with myself for not going entirely ape $hit when my savings plan got blown out of the water every. single. paycheck. due to unforeseen expenses. If there's one thing I've been trying to teach myself, it's to not freak out over things that you can't do a damn thing about. But Lord knows, I have my limits...

An Ode to Shopping: The Anti-Rant

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Too often in life we lose sight of life's simple pleasures, because there are far too many greedy dumb ass corporate CEOs who put profits [and by profits I mean obscene executive salaries that on average are 42 times greater than their lower level employees, plus golden parachute packages, stock options, and other benefits that lowly state employees such as myself could only dream of] ahead of the cardinal rule of business: [at least as far as I'm concerned] customer service is EVERYTHING. If you hadn't guessed it, I'm one of those customers. You know the type that really doesn't appreciate stores trying to run me for my money, and won't hesitate to complain about crap service/products and will gladly boycott an establishment if they suck. However, every once in a while, a retailer pleasantly surprises you. Well today I was pleasantly surprised, not once, but twice! But damned if I didn't earn it! This story started off on the rocks. See right what had happened was...I've been stalking this pair of boots since August. Just to be clear*, these boots are TO. DIE. FOR: high end, sexy, bold color, fit my anorexic baby calves like a glove--everything a boot snob/addict such as myself lives for. So after putting in my due diligence and waiting until I had the money for them [then spending that money on other more pressing needs] and waiting for them to be stocked in my size and color, it seemed today that my efforts were in vain.

Things started going downhill when I talked to  Zappos.com customer rep today and was told that the order of the boots in my size in color that I was expecting last week had been cancelled, and there were no pending future orders to restock. I was tempted to tell the rep online that that was an EPIC FAIL on the part of Zappos, and was fixin' to giver her a piece of my mind about it. But I decided against it, because at the end of the day, it wasn't going to change anything. So with an major side eye to Zappos, I decided to take drastic measures. Based on a customer review saying that the boot ran half a size larger than true size (even though I know differently because I tried them on in my size in the store and they fit perfectly) I ordered the LAST pair of 8.5s in the color of my heart's desire. I was willing to risk it, and with free two way shipping, I had nothing to lose.

But me being me, I wasn't satisfied. So I called the Nordstrom store that I originally tried the boots on--in New Jersey-- and that to date is the only store I have seen carry the color I want. And sure enough, they had one size 9 left! Success! But you see, the story doesn't end there. Nordstrom understands that customer service is EVERYTHING. The gentlemen on the phone first informed me that I was going to have to pay $10 for shipping--naturally, I was less than enthused. Sensing my frustration [and by sensing I mean, remembering my snippy comments about the lack of availability of common shoe sizes and the epic fail on the website for not carrying the color that I wanted] the customer service rep said he would see what he could do for me, considering I was already going to have to pay Maryland sales tax on my New Jersey purchase. Yeah, that's some bullshiggity. After about ten minutes, I learned that the guy on the other end of the phone, Craig, was a 20 year retired veteran of the U.S. Air Force, loved Chrisette Michelle, and that I MUST see her in concert (bonus points to you, sir!), that the Mary J. concert in NY last week was amazing, and that he had found a way to waive the shipping charge AND put double emphasis on the specific shipping address so that the lazy f*cktards at UPS don't "accidentally" deliver it to the wrong office building again. Because it was an over-the-phone order to a store, Craig also provided his employee information and store number, and assured that my credit card information would be destroyed as soon as the transaction processed.  Craig and Nordstrom, I tip my hat in thanks to you. Your efforts at efficient and pleasant customer service keep me returning to this very expensive retail establishment several times a year, without regret. I LOVE IT. But it keeps getting better. I had to cancel my order with Zappos, so I had to call their customer service. Immediately, an automated greeting picked up and offered a few option prompts. While the recording had a little too much sunshine in it for my tastes, [seriously, it was like Rachel freakin Ray was on the phone] I did appreciate having something to listen to rather than silence. The process to cancel my order was super easy, the agent was super nice [and yes, I was totally imagining her as one of the TV puppets while she talked] AND she offered me membership to Zappos VIP, which provides me with free overnight shipping on all my future purchases. I've never even ordered anything from them before, and I'm already getting perks. Score! I think they felt bad for not having my size. Their guilt is my gain, and their customer service reps were just so damn nice, it sounded like they actually like their jobs, and positive energy is contagious.

So today, instead of wanting to bitch slap someone over the phone, I was pleasantly surprised. It wasn't cheap, but you get what you pay for, and what I got is boots! Yay me! And I purposly haven't included a photo of the boots until I have them on my feet, struttin' around town.

*To further clarify, I know this is not a fashion blog. I would never consider myself a fashionista, mostly because I find the behavior of the fashion industry (and most fashion bloggers for that matter--even though I do follow several fashion blogs religiously) to be utterly ridiculous and/or reprehensible [size 00 gappy tooth white women as the standard of beauty?! FAIL!! Faux fur vests? Sleeveless coats? Socks with heels?! Please stop!]. On most days, I roll out of bed and leave my house looking like who shot John and went to work, because I no longer care. BUT, I do clean up real nice when I'm not dragging myself in to that crap hole I call my office. And I do love me some boots. And that my friends, is what matters.

10 Things I Hate....A Rant Story

Hola Guapas. I know, it's been far too long since my last post, I apologize, but I just haven't been feeling it lately. And by feelin it, I mean feeling anything. It's like I've been walking around with a personal storm cloud above my head that keeps snuffing out my will to do anything other exist and watch hours of mindless reality TV [Thursdays=Jersey Shore... oh yeah!]. I'm not a fan of this feeling, so right now I'm taking proactive measures to get my shit together. And my first step, is to let off a little steam. Hence, I bring you A Rant Story...

*Disclaimer*
Lots of profanity laced ranting about really random stupid shit that doesn't matter in the grand scheme of life is about to ensue. Lots. You've been warned...

1. Flip flops on men outside of the beach. Men wearing flip flops in any other setting really makes me cringe. I dunno maybe I've seen 10 too many men with ugly ass, finger-like toes with black or yellow nails, fungus crusted, runaway slave looking man-feet in raggedy ass flip flops walking around college campuses and/or Baltimore City to last me a lifetime. To the white guy in Starbucks--how is it even possible for your feet to look like a runaway slave's?! Do you understand how traumatic it was to see that shit just out in the open? I literally almost threw up on the fucking floor! The only thing worse than ugly man feet+raggedy ass flip flops is ugly man-feet+raggedy ass flip flops in jeans/slacks/suit. For this crime you deserve to be publicly beaten with a pair of dress shoes by men far more fashionable than you!!


2. People, far too often women, who don’t dress appropriately for their size. And I’m not talking about the ig’nant ass debate about whether plus size women can wear skinny jeans [some can, most can’t, but I’ll not delve into that]. I’m talking about the shit observed on websites like People of Walmart, Hot Ghetto Mess, and various facebook albums and groups nationwide, where various excess body parts [back rolls, stretch marks, side boob, front butt, etc] are either hanging outside of their clothing, or protruding through their extra medium outfit. These bitches and ninjas should know they are dead ass wrong, and quite frankly, I consider that shit to be indecent fucking exposure.  But somehow, they always seem blissfully ignorant of their hot mess situations, if not defiant of social norms and mores. To the woman in Walmart last week, whose breasts were at minimum a G cup spilling out of what appeared to be a D cup bra [no bullshit!] yes bitch, I did just look at you dirty for looking a hot ass mess! Go find yourself a damn bra in your size, and until then, have the decency to wear a big chunky sweater so I cannot clearly see the outline of that small ass bra you squeezed yourself in. Matter fact--how did you even get it closed in the back?? One of these days, this shit is going to land me in a fight. And I'll scratch a bitches eyes out...

3. Fox News Channel. I can respect a politically conservative point of view [albeit, I'm a liberal/progressive/yellow belly bleedin' heart democrat, and proud the fuck of it]. I’m just as worried about the damn deficit and national security just like everyone else. But Fox News is a feeding ground for pure shiggity, bigotry, ignorance, and unpatriotic levels of ridamndiculousness and Obama bashing Every. Single. Day. Glenn Beck, Bill O’Reilly, Star Parker, Rush Limbaugh, Anne Coulter, Sean Hannity, Michelle Malkin and crew can KICK. FUCKIN’. ROCKS. You all are miserable souls, and GOD DON’T LIKE UGLY!

4. Bad drivers. The turn signal was invented for a fucking reason, SO BLOODY USE YOURS! If I am a pedestrian, and you are making a turn, I HAVE THE RIGHT OF FUCKIN WAY YOU TRICK ASS WHORE! I declare, if I have to dodge one more turning vehicle in Baltimore city, I’m gonna fuckin lose it! WHY DON’T YOU KNOW HOW TO MAKE A RIGHT turn expeditiously?! You are NOT supposed to come to a complete stop in order to turn, MOVE BITCH! Asian drivers—you suck. Women drivers—you suck. Men drivers—this is NOT the fast and the fucking furious, get over yourselves! A merge lane means GET YOUR ASS THE FUCK OVER BEFORE the lane runs out, you lazy piece of trash! WHY WHY WHY don’t people know how to drive?

5. The Baltimore City accent. No, I’m not “Frum Baltimo’ ”, I’m from Jersey bitch, where we learned how to speak a better brand of English, even in Camden. Kona is a cute dog, not a cute dug! Why do y’all just sound plain illiterate?*
*all of the Baltimore natives that I’m friends with don’t sound like this, at all. They may have a twang, because Maryland is, after all, south of the Mason-Dixon, but their accents don’t make my insides cringe.

6. Speaking of speaking—people who just don’t know how to speak or write the English language properly. Learn how to properly conjugate your damn verbs, user proper tenses, etc! Why do you not know the difference between their, there, and they’re?! Irregardless is NOT A FUCKING WORD. This rage now extends to facebook status because “dis” “dey” “ma” “swag” etc have been used far too egregiously and indicate that you may not know the proper way to write English anymore (or if ever). What the fuck were y’all doing in school all those years? Every time you open your mouth and massacre the English language, God murders a puppy! Go read a book and save the puppies!

7. People who would be quick to call me a snobby/bougie bitch because of the previous two bullet points. And to you I still say go read a book—and not that bullshit from Zane or Eric Jerome dickey if you're over the age of 20. Go read grown up books, The Audacity of Hope is a good place to start. Now runtelldat, homeboy!

8. People who refuse to try anything new. Xenophobia is not a good look and I just have zero patience for close minded bullshit. It’s one thing to know what you like, being comfortable with what's familiar, and being apprehensive about new things.  But it's another thing to be staunchly against learning/experiencing/doing anything outside of the familiar. It's no bueno, I can't tolerate it, and you will be left behind.

9. People who suck at life in general. You know who I’m talking about. Those folks that don’t have the sense God gave a goose, consistently make BAD DECISIONS, don’t learn lessons, and then wonder why their life is always a hot ass mess. Folks who are too weak to stand on their own two feet, and always need some body's help. And my least favorite, the people who just can’t handle the stresses of life, and fall apart every other week, and use coping vices like cigarettes, sex, alcohol, or shopping to make themselves feel better, as if the E! True Hollywood Story hasn’t taught us that those sort of behaviors are ALWAYS a recipe for disaster. I used to have a friend or two who exhibited these qualities. Notice I said, “used to”…

10. My job search. It's seems to be never ending. the more research I do, the less qualified I feel, and I'm smack in the middle of a slump. I've let two job postings expire before submitting my resume. I just couldn't muster up the energy to submit my resume. I'm not feeling this "feeling". Hopelessness, apathy, and self doubt seem to be stalking me. And they are pissing me the fuck off! I'm tired of having to give myself a pep talk just to get through the work day. Tired of being grateful to have just have a job. I've been grateful for two damn years, it's time for a new job! SO FUCK THIS! FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

I kinda feel better. Kinda.

La Vida Española: the Good, the Rant, & the Caramel Vodka

*Disclaimer*
The following blog post is a melding of exactly how I feel at the moment, which is a mixture of excitement, hope, determination, nostalgia, despair, and anger. Of my own accord, I realize that merging of such topics into one post makes zero sense. But actually, it makes perfect sense. And besides, it's my blog, and I can rant and rave about hating my job and partying in Spain if I want to. I'm sure by now, I've made quite clear the awesome time I had on my trip.  I'm also sure that if you've been following the blog for a while, I've made quite clear that I hate my job, and have been on the relentless prowl for something better, which after 14 months, is still to no avail. Just a head's up, cuz it might get a little weird.

In case you missed it, I will reiterate that my two weeks in España and Morocco were magnificent.  Like unicorns and glitter magnificent.

The cousin's roommate. They both like to make faces, jajaja

see unicorn on his shirt +glitter on me [Actually, it's body shimmer from Victoria's Secret. It's a self indulgent, gratuitously girly, if not completely ridiculous body powder that makes me sparkle like an Oscar statue freshly spit shined by the 8 year old Taiwanese sweat shop worker that assembled it for 61 cents an hour. It is the single most fabulous thing in my makeup bag and most favorite cosmetic purchase of all time] =magnificent!

¡The we were introduced to Sobrasada!

My trip was so good, in fact, that my short time there only solidified what I've long suspected even before my first venture into Europe back when I was in college and even more so every time I return from there: life in these United States just ain't for me! Now one could say that this is just my inner bougie rearing it's ugly head. That of course I would want to up and move to España after having had a great vacation in the presence of great company, as most people feel that way when returning from really good vacations, especially to Europe. The only difference between me and those folks, is that I'm not bullshitting you. I'm currently hatching a 16-24 month plan, I've been forsaking TV for Rosetta Stone, and I've decided that I'm getting a new job by October [DO YOU HEAR ME UNIVERSE?! I WILL GET A NEW JOB BY OCTOBER. SCREW YOU AND SCREW THIS RECESSION. I'M DONE WITH MY BULLSHIT JOB. YOU WILL GIVE ME A NEW FUCKING JOB BECAUSE I'VE PUT IN THE WORK. I'VE GOT A FUCKING BINDER FULL OF SUBMITTED RESUMES TO PROVE IT YOU FECKLESS BITCH! I'M SMART, I'M A FAST LEARNER, I'M QUALITATIVE AND A RESEARCHER BY NATURE AND I YEARN TO BE CHALLENGED, APPRECIATED, AND NEEDED AT MY PLACE OF EMPLOYMENT! SO HEAR ME NOW, OCTOBER WILL COME, AND I WILL BE A NEW EMPLOYEE IN THE DISTRICT OF FUCKING COLUMBIA. GOT THAT? GOOD!] that pays a little better and doesn't me make dread getting out of bed each morning, so I can appropriately save for what will be an expensive transition and not be completely loony by the time I arrive in Barcelona.  Honestly, if a legitimate opportunity presented itself tomorrow, I'd be on a plane with the poodle and chuckin' Obama n' dem the the deuces, and giving my job [the building and the institution itself, not so much my coworkers] the finger and some other choice words, in Español, of course.

But back to the unicorns and glitter. [Yes I am going to completely resume my train of thought as if I didn't just completely lose it on the blog. Damn it feels good to be a gangsta!] You've seen the food, and I've touched on some of the best aspects, like the hot men EVERYWHERE [like even the garbage men were hot, several of them, hell even the gay men were hot, like "hot sthuff ssss!" hot], the partying, the warmth of the Moroccan people, and of course, the shopping.  But there was so much more to it. Imagine if say, the U.S. had a 25% unemployment rate. There would be rioting in the streets. Literally. Well that is the current unemployment rate in España, and the country is still standing, and people are still living their lives, and not committing murder/suicides as was tragically observed at the onset of the economic downturn here at home. It's just in my two weeks there, I got the feeling that the Spaniards know more about living their lives than we do. My cousin whose been there for five years agrees. There's just a jena sais quois about their lifestyle. It's hot shit. And I want to be a part of it.

And then there was the Caramel Vodka. I'm a boozehound, [cue Chelsea Handler] as indicated in these posts. I don't know if I've really made clear my obsession with caramel, but you should know, it's real serious y'all. Real serious. With that said, please enjoy the following presentation of tomfoolery and awesomeness, courtesy of carmel vodka, other various libations, and of course, guapos. The four of us sure did ;-]

It should be mentioned, that perhaps with the exception of my cousin himself, there is probably no one else more upset about his upcoming transfer back to the States than I am. I was really REALLY trying to get back to España before his return. But outrageous plane ticket prices are killing me right now.

Last but not least, have you signed up for the giveaway yet?  Yeah, take care of that here. 

And THAT is the NIGHT the LIGHTS Went Out in GEORGIA!

Now as you all know [and as indicated by my blog title], I like to rant about things that upset me. To me, ranting is my form of venting pent up frustrations, and regardless of how you may feel about it, it is sometimes necessary.  Ranting is not just a behavior that on more than one occasion, has gotten me into some trouble, it's part of who I am.

My mom is a ranter.  I remember many times as a child watching my mom verbally rip someone a new one [without a word of profanity, Linda is a lady!] with slight horror/embarrassment and slight pity for the target of her rage. But then as I got older, I really began to understand the necessity of her rants, as they were almost always directed at some poor FOOL who was trying to take her for her HARD EARNED money or they gave her attitude--note to world at large: DON'T DO THAT! In fact, I even began to enjoy watching such events, I would see that look in Linda's eyes, and know I was in for a show, lol. In the last few years, I've gotten to know both sides of my family very well--my mom's family in Georgia, my father's family in Nigeria-and guess what, those women rant too!! So, with ranting obviously a part of my genetic code, its no surprise that I have ALWAYS admired female television characters who were strong, independent, and unapologetic about speaking their minds--just like my mother--and as it turns out just like me. 

This weekend, the world lost a television icon of feminine grace, independence, and strength--Dixie Carter, probably best known as Julia Sugarbaker on Designing Women. Julia Sugarbaker was like no other woman on TV.  She could take any fool who dared to cross her down several notches with her chin held high, her razor sharp tongue, and her cutting wit and intelligence, all delivered in an impeccably dramatic cadence, wrapped in a lusciously smooth southern accent--and looked fly doing it! She was and still is one of my TV heroes [and I really don't do the whole celebrity icon thing at all, so this is serious!]The only other TV character who ranks par with Julia Sugarbaker status is Dr. Bailey on Grey's Anatomy, and I LOVE her too!

So in remembrance of one of the best ranters in television history and honorary ABW*, Julia Sugarbaker, and all my fellow lady ranters, this one is for YOU!

 *gone but never forgotten*

*honorary Angry Black Woman, aka Angry White Woman. Please see the Angry Black Woman's Guide to Life, A hilarious book--not intended for profound sociological insight into the challenges of being a black woman in the United States of Amerykah, so don't take it so seriously--if I wasn't offended, you shouldn't be either.