1. Isabella, 4, for the crime of stealing two entire books of stamps and decorating her disney printables with first-class forever stamps. Who knew she’d be drawn to those stinkin’ bells. Liberty, my ass. Well, it’s a good thing I was able to devote the 18 minutes it took to carefully peel them of the paper. Hopefully it’s enough postage to mail her buns to Switzerland. or someplace far, far away.
2. Neiman Marcus for the crime of having horrific customer service. Long story short, my mother sent my daughters veryexpensive coats from NM in Arizona. The girls deemed them “not beautiful” so I took them back to Neimans at Lenox in Atlanta, hoping to exchange them for something they would actually like and something that I’d never buy for them, like that pair of True Religions that Emily has been eyeing. (are you high? I would never buy a child a pair of $150 jeans for her teeny heiney to outgrow in 8 days). Anyhoo…that point is moot because the bee-otch behind the counter told me that she couldn’t give me store credit. or a gift card. and the only way she could help me was to put the money back on my mom’s credit card. Even though these coats were a gift. and even though the website’s return policy clearly states that she was a fucking liar. So, I am just upset I’m not wearing my blond blunt wig and my hooker clothing so I can pull a “Big mistake. Big. Huge!” and (bawk, bawk, bawk) returned the coats and went home unhappy. AND WROTE A VERY DISPLEASED LETTER about how I would never buy gifts at Neiman Marcus because they are shitty. and I got an email back saying that someone from the Atlanta store would get back to me…only no one ever did. and now my kids are freezing because they don’t even have “not beautiful” coats to wear.
3. Almost every single TV show I love for the crime of having winter finales. Seriously, where did this come from? Is this a new concept? WINTER FINALE? When “scenes from the next” are saying that new shows are coming in February or SPRING I want to cry and yes I am looking at you Glee because you cannot freakin’ have Mr. Schue suck on Emma Pillsbury’s bush baby face (oh my god. I am not spoiling here, people. It’s Friday. There is really no excuse for not watching yet unless you were in labor or something but then there’s no reason why you should be reading this site. so there!) and not gimmemoreohmigod. Also, I really want to look at Clay on One Tree Hill some more.
4. The rubber-esque Michelin Man flash drive/bracelet that I got at blogher this year for the crime of being swallowed by my puppy. Clearly, Indiana isn’t the brightest since after the whole tampon-eating-almost-dying-$5000-surgery-having incident, he didn’t learn to stop eating things that can’t make it through his digestive system. Really, he should stick to crayons which not only make it all the way through, but provide colorful entertainment when I have to stand outside and scoop. But, I am worried about him. His vet told us that his poor half of a colon won’t make it through another surgery…and either will our wallets. So, please, think some poopy thoughts for my dumb dog.
5. Movies like Frost/Nixon for the crime of, um, getting me hot in the middle of the afternoon. Apollo 13. To Kill a Mockingbird. Gone With the Wind. Platoon. All the President’s Men. An American friggin’ Tale. And it’s not just the movies either. I did my high school term paper on JFK assassination theories. hot. MAD MEN. hot. the fashion. the old architecture (seriously, I scare the tourists when I visit New York with my obsession with the old buildings. Tip: It’s probably best not to take me to Little Italy). the inventions. pictures like this.
6. Those mall kiosk workers for the crime of being total douches. I mean, I get it, you work on commission and you are masters of the hard sell and clearly I have the word “sucker” plastered to my forehead but get it through your skulls, people……I do not want my hair curled or to try dead sea cream or to sell my gold for cash. I want to pretend I am on the phone and not make eye contact and fantasize about punching you in your junk.