You have no idea who you're messing with

It's semi-official: I'm weird and not terribly exciting. Yay! I believe a celebration is in order.

Before I wax owwie on the ongoing back issue - whoo! me and the UPS guy. By extension my entire family and the UPS guy. What a morning. Here's the background to the story: I'd ordered some med cards from Amazon second day delivery. I assumed that someone would be home the day of the first delivery attempt but all of our schedules made it impossible. This held for the second day (last Thursday). Friday both my brother and I had off, but I'd made lunch plans so I more or less ordered him to stay home to get my package for me. As I was finishing up my noodles (Thai, spicy, coconutty, and disgustingly bad for one's health) I got a call from him. He mumbled his way through explaining why he had in his possession a "missed delivery" slip instead of my package. I figured he stayed upstairs until around noon and the delivery guy came nearer to 10. Well, no big deal; he called the UPS people and arranged for a fourth delivery attempt on Monday (today).

Right. So the folks and I are sitting around shooting the shit (well, technically I was studying Fluid and Electrolytes - go team me!) when the doorbell rings. I rush to get it, practically crack-fiendin' for my cards at this point, and upon opening the front door I ask the delivery guy if he can head to the side door of the house. The reason? no one had the keys to the front storm door readily available and I didn't want to keep him waiting two or three minutes while we scrambled to find them. Here's where the shit started going down. The dude's first response to me was "no, you have to note on the package when you want a side door delivery" to which...I ordered this stuff from Amazon. I didn't even have that option. That bogus option, as it turns out. The NEXT thing he said to me was "I'm not going to the side door because you couldn't open your front door the last three days". Oh ho, no; fredericks don't play that. At that point I turn around, make a mental note to call UPS and report the guy, then walk back into the living room to try to put something on in order to head outside.

My folks, meanwhile, had overheard our exchange and more than likely had heard me call the guy an asshole under my breath, so they knew something was up. I told them the dude refused to come to the side door and they were a little peeved. My mom, knowing about my back difficulties, threw on a coat and shoes and went to get the package for me while my dad went to the front door to talk to the guy. At that point I was chilling in the living room waiting for the guy to leave so I could call, when I hear my mom and the guy really having a go. I mean, my mom is straight up shouting at the guy. I sort of groaned and went to see what was going on but didn't step outside. It seems that the guy, while speaking to my father, said that my father is "home all the time", implying that my father should have been around to pick up the package on the previous deliveries and also implying that we were simply trying to give him (the delivery guy) a hard time. THEN when my father referred to the door (he might have said something idiotic like "it's broken", who knows) the delivery guy replied "There was a [delivery] notice on the door; fix it". What tee eff? It was because of what the delivery guy said to my father that my mother blew up at him, and I don't blame her one bit. Oh, I'm still embarrassed as all hell and I would not have gotten into a shouting match with the guy, but I don't blame her.

Fine. Mom came back inside, precious package in hand. I was planning to call from the moment the guy gave me the lame and rude reasoning behind not wanting to walk 18 feet to the side door of my humble abode, but for him to talk to my father like that? Simply ridiculous. My dad actually said I shouldn't bother to call UPS, another thing that was simply ridiculous to me. When I got through mom wanted to speak to them but I knew she'd be way too aggressive with the poor call center person that ended up on the other line I so shoo'd her off. I left my complaint and was told I'd get called back within an hour by the driver's dispatch center. I did, and I explained to the gent on the other line exactly everything I'd explained to the woman earlier. Here's the rub to me, though: my father, the man who didn't want me to file a complaint, listened on the line to the entire conversation (he does that a lot; it's the reason why anyone who wishes to call me gets my cell number not my house number) and then jumped in to repeat the exact things I did. I just...URGH! When I hung up, after my father had said his two cents, I asked him why he even bothered to pick up the line as he didn't want me to call. His response was so idiotic and filled with machismo to type it out would leave me full of rage, very Hulk-like even. It boiled down to him just wanting to add his two cents and making a relatively calm complaint call appear anything but.

Annnnnnnnd no more drama. For the week, even. I feel like I should cue up Mary J. at this point.

Back's maginally better. My legs feel weird when I sit Indian-style (East Indian-style? Native-style? what's the more appropriate name for that position?), all shooting pains and tingles, and I have to adjust my body every couple of minutes (prone is good but not so conducive to studying), otherwise? better.

My life is so chock-full that I believe the highlight of my evening might be catching Wilbon and Kornheiser on PTI. I really don't want to study anymore. Damn cardiac content's making me its Beecher circa S1.