does it move you? does it soothe you?
Okay, this post is proof-positive that I'm committed to relating the truth and nothing but the truth, because the following story definitely does not win me any cool points.
So, you all know my penchant for the musical stylings of Hanson. I mean, this doesn't come as a surprise to anyone, does it? Okay, well, the aforementioned band is releasing a new album (The Walk) here in the States in May. Exciting for me. However, this same album is being released in other parts of the world at different, earlier times. For example, the Japan release date was 21 February.
Of course, Andrea, Rachel, and I took the only course of action imaginable: We ordered the CD from Japan.
Bear with me.
So, I've been internet-stalking the progress of this package since, like, Wednesday. I checked the USPS website every couple of hours (what do you want from me, I'm on break!) to see if the status had been updated. Yesterday morning, the site said that the package was en route from Detroit, as of about 6:30 that morning. I told this to the girls and we all did a happy dance. Like I said, exciting stuff.
Well, Ann had to babysit yesterday, so she was out of the house. Rachel had a seminar at Wayne, so she was gone. I decided that I needed to buy new pants (so I'd have something to wear that fit when I went back to school) so I went out to Oakland mall.
Understand, mail doesn't usually come to our place until mid-afternoon. I figured that's when we'd get out package. Or that I'd come home and it'd be on our porch or something. Little did I understand the intricacies of the USPS.
Rachel, who got home from her seminar while I was still out, called and asked where I was. (I was en route home from the mall.) She said that there was a note on our porch from our mailman that said he'd tried to deliver a package but that it needed to be signed for. As there had been no one home, we would have to go to the post office sometime after 10 Saturday morning.
Insert a dramatic "Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" here.
Rachel said she was going to call the post office to see if there was any way we could get the package earlier than the next morning; neither of us were averse to driving to the post office to get it ourselves. The post office said that we might be able to pick it up after five that day, after the mailman returned from his daily route.
Okay, sadness, right? We had been so looking forward to getting the album that day. Feeling slightly dejected, I continued my drive home. Traffic on Woodward was slower than is allowed by law, so I cut down Catalpa to take the back way to the House. When I pull down the first side street, I see a USPS van. Immediately, I call Rachel to ask if it was indeed just a regular mailman who would have our package. If that was the case, I decided I would approach this mailman. She said yes, but that I would probably need the slip they'd left at the house. Afraid the mailman would escape if I left to pick up the slip, Rachel and I agreed it would be best if she drove it to me. (I know, this is getting more and more ludicrous. Keep reading.)
So, about a minute later, I had the slip in my hand. Rachel decided not to approach the mailman with me; that might be a little intimidating. So, I walked up to the mailman and asked if he delivered the mail on my street.
Nope.
This news saddened my heart. But I walked back to my car and decided just to go home. I mean, what else could I do?
Harass more postal employees, apparently. I saw another mail carrier (this one a lady) delivering the mail a few streets down. I pulled up next to her (she happened to be crossing the street; I had intended to get out of the car) and asked if she was my mail carrier. Nope again. But she said that "Jim" was my mail carrier and gave me an approximate grid of his route, assuring me that he should still be around.
Feeling I needed reinforcements, I called Rachel to ask if she wanted to join Operation: Find Jim. She, understandably, was all for it.
So, I pulled up to the house and she got into my car. We headed down our street but saw no USPS vans. We decided to check the street south of ours. We saw a van there, so we pulled up behind it and approached the mailman (who was, conveniently, delivering the mail directly across the street from his van). I asked if he delivered the mail on our street. There was a definite moment of "Do I tell the truth, or do I lie?" that crossed his face before he answered in the affirmative.
He knew what house we were from. He knew what we wanted.
So, Jim (wonderful, nice, pleasant Jim) walked over to his van and got our package for us.
That story might even be better than bus-catching-fire.
So, Rachel and I rushed home and put the CD in STAT. Totally worth the trouble! I'll say that I wasn't necessarily absolutely crazy about it after the initial listen, but I found I couldn't stop listening to it (for example, I'm listening to track 3, "Been There Before" as I type this - which is, incidentally, the song from which this post's subject is pulled). I like it more every time I hear it. Except I'm still really iffy about track 13, "Your Illusion," whose first line is "You say you want to kill yourself." Taylor, what the hell are you talking about? Why do you like singing about suicide?
On a related note, however, I don't have nearly as much to Blame Taylor about on this album, as Taylor only sings lead on half the songs. Yay!! Step on up to the microphone, Zachary Walker. And, for the most part, I really like the songs Taylor sings lead on. What am I saying? Of course I like them, as I really like the CD on the whole.
Okay. Enough Hanson talk for one post.
In other news, when I bought pants yesterday I bought them in the smallest size I've ever worn (since, like, middle school). Very, very exciting. Also, at my weigh-in this morning, I came in under my goal weight. So, if I can keep that up, six weeks from now I'll no longer have to pay for Weight Watchers! Yay!
Okay. I think I'm going to go out to see a movie with my ma today, so I should probably call and run this idea past her. Should've called last night but was possessed by a must-clean-the-stove demon. But the stove sparkles prettily now, so I guess all is well.
Alright. Enough blabber. If you made it to the end of this post, I commend you.
So, you all know my penchant for the musical stylings of Hanson. I mean, this doesn't come as a surprise to anyone, does it? Okay, well, the aforementioned band is releasing a new album (The Walk) here in the States in May. Exciting for me. However, this same album is being released in other parts of the world at different, earlier times. For example, the Japan release date was 21 February.
Of course, Andrea, Rachel, and I took the only course of action imaginable: We ordered the CD from Japan.
Bear with me.
So, I've been internet-stalking the progress of this package since, like, Wednesday. I checked the USPS website every couple of hours (what do you want from me, I'm on break!) to see if the status had been updated. Yesterday morning, the site said that the package was en route from Detroit, as of about 6:30 that morning. I told this to the girls and we all did a happy dance. Like I said, exciting stuff.
Well, Ann had to babysit yesterday, so she was out of the house. Rachel had a seminar at Wayne, so she was gone. I decided that I needed to buy new pants (so I'd have something to wear that fit when I went back to school) so I went out to Oakland mall.
Understand, mail doesn't usually come to our place until mid-afternoon. I figured that's when we'd get out package. Or that I'd come home and it'd be on our porch or something. Little did I understand the intricacies of the USPS.
Rachel, who got home from her seminar while I was still out, called and asked where I was. (I was en route home from the mall.) She said that there was a note on our porch from our mailman that said he'd tried to deliver a package but that it needed to be signed for. As there had been no one home, we would have to go to the post office sometime after 10 Saturday morning.
Insert a dramatic "Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" here.
Rachel said she was going to call the post office to see if there was any way we could get the package earlier than the next morning; neither of us were averse to driving to the post office to get it ourselves. The post office said that we might be able to pick it up after five that day, after the mailman returned from his daily route.
Okay, sadness, right? We had been so looking forward to getting the album that day. Feeling slightly dejected, I continued my drive home. Traffic on Woodward was slower than is allowed by law, so I cut down Catalpa to take the back way to the House. When I pull down the first side street, I see a USPS van. Immediately, I call Rachel to ask if it was indeed just a regular mailman who would have our package. If that was the case, I decided I would approach this mailman. She said yes, but that I would probably need the slip they'd left at the house. Afraid the mailman would escape if I left to pick up the slip, Rachel and I agreed it would be best if she drove it to me. (I know, this is getting more and more ludicrous. Keep reading.)
So, about a minute later, I had the slip in my hand. Rachel decided not to approach the mailman with me; that might be a little intimidating. So, I walked up to the mailman and asked if he delivered the mail on my street.
Nope.
This news saddened my heart. But I walked back to my car and decided just to go home. I mean, what else could I do?
Harass more postal employees, apparently. I saw another mail carrier (this one a lady) delivering the mail a few streets down. I pulled up next to her (she happened to be crossing the street; I had intended to get out of the car) and asked if she was my mail carrier. Nope again. But she said that "Jim" was my mail carrier and gave me an approximate grid of his route, assuring me that he should still be around.
Feeling I needed reinforcements, I called Rachel to ask if she wanted to join Operation: Find Jim. She, understandably, was all for it.
So, I pulled up to the house and she got into my car. We headed down our street but saw no USPS vans. We decided to check the street south of ours. We saw a van there, so we pulled up behind it and approached the mailman (who was, conveniently, delivering the mail directly across the street from his van). I asked if he delivered the mail on our street. There was a definite moment of "Do I tell the truth, or do I lie?" that crossed his face before he answered in the affirmative.
He knew what house we were from. He knew what we wanted.
So, Jim (wonderful, nice, pleasant Jim) walked over to his van and got our package for us.
That story might even be better than bus-catching-fire.
So, Rachel and I rushed home and put the CD in STAT. Totally worth the trouble! I'll say that I wasn't necessarily absolutely crazy about it after the initial listen, but I found I couldn't stop listening to it (for example, I'm listening to track 3, "Been There Before" as I type this - which is, incidentally, the song from which this post's subject is pulled). I like it more every time I hear it. Except I'm still really iffy about track 13, "Your Illusion," whose first line is "You say you want to kill yourself." Taylor, what the hell are you talking about? Why do you like singing about suicide?
On a related note, however, I don't have nearly as much to Blame Taylor about on this album, as Taylor only sings lead on half the songs. Yay!! Step on up to the microphone, Zachary Walker. And, for the most part, I really like the songs Taylor sings lead on. What am I saying? Of course I like them, as I really like the CD on the whole.
Okay. Enough Hanson talk for one post.
In other news, when I bought pants yesterday I bought them in the smallest size I've ever worn (since, like, middle school). Very, very exciting. Also, at my weigh-in this morning, I came in under my goal weight. So, if I can keep that up, six weeks from now I'll no longer have to pay for Weight Watchers! Yay!
Okay. I think I'm going to go out to see a movie with my ma today, so I should probably call and run this idea past her. Should've called last night but was possessed by a must-clean-the-stove demon. But the stove sparkles prettily now, so I guess all is well.
Alright. Enough blabber. If you made it to the end of this post, I commend you.