If you’ve been around here for awhile, you know I’m a big supporter of indie artists and small business owners.

Just to clarify, I’m talking about owners of small businesses, not business owners who happen to be small, although I’m fans of theirs as well.

I’m a fan of all shapes and sizes!

Just to clarify, *I* am not all shapes and sizes. Just a fan of them.

Why must the written word be so confusing? Maybe blogs should be spoken instead of written? They could be called slogs instead of blogs!

Who do I see about making that happen?

In the meantime, I wanted to give a shout out to two different small businesses because in this world of WalMarts and Targets and Kohls, it’s often very difficult for the little guy to get a piece of the action.

The world would be a much nicer, more relaxed place if everybody got a little action every now and then, don’t you think? That’s what my husband says, anyway.

First up is Liz Nonnemacher. Remember Liz? I interviewed her last year and compared her to a flatulent boat before that. She owns Wickedly Chic, the one-stop online shop for indie goods. If you are an independent artist who needs exposure or some savvy marketing, or you’re shopping for something different, something that everyone and their neighbor’s mother-in-law doesn’t already own, check out Liz’s site. Just so you know, in her spare time, she dresses up her dog in scarves and posts about it on Facebook and dispenses really good, free advice. Recently, she told me that I was awesome and should never drink from someone else’s nipples. You know how much a therapist would have charged me for that little nugget?

Right now, Liz is hosting her 4th Annual Wickedly Chic Spring Fling. Go check out all the artists and businesses she’s featuring. There’s jewelry and makeup and hair products and clothing and more. Tell her I sent you. And then tell her I said to stop putting clothes on dogs because only weird people do that. And then tell her that I’m perfectly aware that we’ve got an extra-small Buffalo Bills jersey with four leg holes floating somewhere around this house and the fact that my husband paid $25 for it, to the glee of both my kids who are old enough to know better, pretty much makes my case for me.

Next up is Claire Gutschow. Claire was born in South Africa and now lives in California and has a forty year old cousin who runs around naked while camping which is neither here (thank God) nor there (now *you* thank God) but I always find it helpful to share with my readers a little trivia about any business or artist I might feature.

Claire used to work in a top international skin care company back in the day and now? She’s running her own skin care line called Fei’d (pronounced “fade” for those of you who were wondering how to pronounce it and thinking there are entirely too many apostrophes in this world.) This skin care line is a cross between Chinese medicine and western science and is specifically formulated for uneven skin tone, dark marks and pigmentation. In other words, WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE? <—- so screams all the skin residing between my scalp and my toes.

One of the aspects I like best about Claire’s work is her philosophy of giving back … money that she could be spending on big, expensive ad campaigns for Fei’d is instead being directed to help promote education and educational support through children’s organizations in third world countries.

You can have pretty skin and help out a child in need which is like a win/win with extra hot fudge and a big ass spoon.

I’d get out my soapbox but it’s hiding somewhere on the couch along with my initiative and ambition this morning so instead, I’ll just simply remind you to please support independent artists and small business owners! It’s good karma and karma is like peanut butter … it’s best when spread thick and all over the place.

Only the smooth kind of karma though! Crunchy karma is kind of gross.

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At precisely 3:00 p.m., this past Sunday, our dryer decided to audition for every single role in the Broadway show Stomp. Simultaneously. In surround sound. After three minutes, it developed sudden onset narcolepsy and still hasn’t woken up.

By 3:15 p.m., we were at Lowes, looking at dryers that had no musical aspirations or sleep disorders. Then we looked at washers as well because our own had begun exhibiting signs of multiple personality disorder in that sometimes it was a washing machine and sometimes it was a ginormous, toothless mouth that treated a load of laundry like a jawbreaker, rolling it around and sucking on it long enough to remove its bright colors and all its flavors before spitting out its saliva-saturated carcass.

I affectionately referred to our washer and dryer by such endearments as “DUMB” and “DUMBER” when I was in a good mood and “F&CK” and “YOU” when I wasn’t.

By 3:45 p.m.,, I had discovered that I had lost the ability to read because it turned out that the signs hanging above the washers and dryers which I thought advertised “We’ll call our competitors for their prices while you wait!” actually advertised “NO WE WON’T. BECAUSE WE’RE BIG, FAT LIARS AND YOU ARE LITTLE IMPOTENT CONSUMERS.” I realized this phenomenon after two salesman declined to call another local appliance store for me. I marched over to Nate and asked him whether I should complain, who should I complain to and whether or not we had time for me to pitch a full-on hissy by the Samsung display and still get home by dinner time but he wasn’t listening because he was too busy calling the local appliance store for price comparisons. So in a sense, he was doing their job and not getting paid for it. And believe you me, we could have used that money so that we could throw it right back into Lowes’ collective face to pay for F&CK and YOU’s replacements.

I would have asked Nate to stop the slave labor gig long enough to witness the spectacle I was about to make of myself but he shoved the phone into my hand because he’s allergic to conversation with faceless strangers and then I was too busy asking the local appliance store rep for price comparisons because it turns out that it’s surprisingly easy to do other peoples’ jobs and not get paid for it, especially when you’re distracted by things like steam options, RPMs and inconspicuously feeling yourself up underneath your coat to determine if your bra had somehow unhinged itself or maybe you completely forgot to put one on before rushing out the door to cure your narcoleptic dryer and do other peoples’ jobs without getting paid for it. By the time I got off the phone, my boobs were askew and I had forgotten all about the hissy because it’s really hard to concentrate on anything when your mammary glands are flying willy nilly.

Way to ruin what might have been a spectacular and justified hissy, Nate. Or my bra. Whichever. Apparently, neither one of them realize how rare a spectacular and justified hissy is to come by these days.

By 4:00 p.m., I had arrived at that prime piece of mental real estate located at the corner of Analyze and Paralyze and for those of you who want to accomplish a similar feat in record time, I suggest you do the following:

• Ask the opinions and expertise of three different salesmen, one of whom was on his way to dinner and simply thought you were going to ask him directions to the ladies room. It’s not your fault he’s a newbie;
• Ask another local appliance store for their opinions on Whirlpool vs. Maytag, top loading vs. front loading, the odds of a bra unhinging itself and the pros and cons of pitching stellar and justified hissies in the middle of large home improvement stores with your husband who could not care less;
• Ask your husband to make the final decision so that if/when the new appliances break two days after their warranties expire, you can assess blame accordingly;
• Worry about asymmetric cleavage.

By 4:30 p.m., I knew everything I ever wanted to know about front load washers and dryers, to wit:

• They are expensive;
• They are energy efficient;
• They are freaking expensive;
• They are shiny and kind of sexy;
• They are expensive because they’re energy efficient, shiny and kind of sexy;
• They have almost as many buttons as the space shuttle;
• They cost $WHATTHEHELLARETHEYSMOKINGANDCANIHAVESOME?

You’d think I’d be ecstatically happy to have a new washer and dryer and if we had won the mega millions last week like I told Nate to make sure we did, I’d be jumping for joy but as it turned out, some old couple won the mega millions and will probably buy new outfits and underwear every day for the rest of their lives and won’t even need a front loading washer or dryer and I suppose I can take heart in the fact that they’re pretty old and probably won’t live much longer so they won’t end up buying *that* many outfits but honestly, that makes me sound like a heartless bitch when in reality, I’m simply just jealous and bitter.

So when it comes to getting a spankin’ brand new, shiny, sexified washer and dryer, I’m not so much ecstatically happy as I am CLOTHES ARE OVERRATED. LET’S MOVE TO A NUDIST COLONY WHERE EVERYONE IS BLIND.

These Whirlpool Duets are going to be delivered this Saturday. I’m going to call them “Zoe’s first year of college” and “Helena’s braces” when I’m in a good mood and HOLY GODDAMN SHITBALLS, YOU BETTER LAST TWENTY YEARS and HOLY GODDAMN SHITBALLS, I FREAKING MEAN IT when I’m not.

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Today, for the first time in a week, I will not be going to the mall.

I will not drive up and down a congested parking lot.

So that I can exchange something.

Or so that anyone else can exchange something.

Or spend the money or gift cards they received for Christmas.

While I stand there with no money or gift cards.

Staring at the outfit I bought two weeks ago that is now 90% off.

Nor will I utter the words No, I am not buying you a pretzel.

Or I don’t care if Auntie Annes has the best pretzels on the planet.

Nor will I holler after my daughter MAKE SURE YOU GET ME A PRETZEL SIX PACK WITH A SIDE OF CREAM CHEESE.

I leave you with a post I wrote … wow, almost three years ago now … about another Christmas season when Nate decided not to go to the mall either.

Happy Sunday, everyone!

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Wii … the odyssey

(originally published May, 2008)

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We’re all familiar with this little gem, right? I give you the Wii, in all its glory:

Last November, my husband wasn’t a big fan. When I broached the subject of getting a Wii for the kids for Christmas by saying “hey, why don’t we get a Wii for the kids” my husband took that to mean “hey, why don’t we get a PlayStation 3 for the kids” because he’s quirky that way. When I responded that the kids didn’t want a PlayStation 3, they wanted a Wii, he tried to dazzle me with techno jargon about how superior the graphics were on a PlayStation 3 and how awesome they would look on our brand spanking new TV.

TV did you say? You mean that 42″ ultra modern, flat-screen behemoth of high-definition that dwarfs everything around it and currently resides in our living room with all of our normal sized furniture? That “bargain” of a monstrosity that was only going to cost this much but actually wound up costing that much because we couldn’t have a TV like that without having the proper stand on which to put it, the appropriate receiver with which to run it, the best speakers with which to hear it and the top-of-the-line remote with which to control it? The TV I didn’t want? That one?

We had a sit-down with the kids to discuss the Wii vs. PS3 scenario. Nate had our eldest almost convinced that PS3 was the second coming while our youngest was steadfast in her desire for a Wii but willing to negotiate in exchange for a later bedtime. I finally convinced the family that the Wii was the better choice as it retailed for about half of the PS3 and was better suited for family time. It was a struggle and there were tears and temper tantrums and hissy fits but Nate got over himself and finally conceded.

Nate thought he would just walk into Target or Best Buy and pick one up after work. I asked him if something heavy had hit him on the head and then dragged him to the aforementioned behemoth parked in our living room so that he could see the CNN sound bites showing mobs of people lining up for days to get one. It then became Nate’s personal mission in life to get us a Wii, come hell or high water, so help him God.

To his credit, Nate did try the conventional approach once. He woke up at 4:00 am, drove through the bitter cold, sleet and snow to stand in line at Kmart for a shipment of Wii Systems expected that morning (by the way, what exactly is the plural of Wii? WiiWiis?) After about an hour, a blithely unaware Kmart employee came out and announced to the 50+ cold, wet, hungry, caffeine-deprived customers that a newly arrived shipment of twenty-six Wii Systems would be available in minutes. I have no idea if that poor guy ever made it out alive. All I know is Nate came home around 6:00 a.m., empty handed and with a dazed expression, mumbling something about mob mentality, rioting and Darwin’s Law.

I told Nate about an online service that sent notifications of newly arrived Wii Systems at local Wal-Marts and wouldn’t it be a nifty idea if we signed up? No, apparently we did not have time for such nonsense and besides, Nate had a plan.

And that plan went something like this:

On November 21, 2007 Nate purchased a brand new, unopened, factory-sealed, receipt-attached Wii off eBay. He paid nearly double the manufacturer’s suggested retail price. Approximately 9.2 seconds after submitting his PayPal payment, he became ticked that the seller didn’t immediately respond. Through gritted teeth, I suggested that he calm the hell down and give the seller a break since it was the night before Thanksgiving. Then I left the room before I killed him.

On November 22, 2007, after Thanksgiving dinner, Nate purchased a second brand new, unopened, factory-sealed, receipt-attached Wii off eBay for a little over double the MSRP as a backup plan. I should have known something was up as he had been staring at his laptop for hours, during which time I actually touched and held the TV remote, an act that normally causes him to twitch, break out in hives and have a seizure.

Did I mention that the receipts clearly showed that both Wii Systems had been purchased from a Wal-Mart? I didn’t? Well, they did. And it was all I could do to remain vertical as I literally watched sparks fly off my body and fought the urge to dismember him right there on the spot. Then I disassociated from my earthly body and went to the Land of Denial where it’s sunshine all the time and no one bothers me and I look thin and pretty.

A couple of days later, we were the proud owners of two brand new Wii Systems. And then Nate came home from work and what do you suppose he was carrying? Flowers? Chocolate? A prescription for Xanax? No. He was carrying a third brand new, unopened, factory-sealed, receipt-attached Wii.

When he saw that I was nanoseconds from outright spontaneous combustion, he quickly explained that he had purchased this Wii for only $30 over the MSRP, no eBay/PayPal transactions were involved, and he would list the other two Wii Systems on eBay that very night and recoup our money. I questioned him as to where he got this particular Wii. Oh, funny story this one … his co-worker bought it from Wal-Mart that very day. And how did he know to go to Wal-Mart that very day for a Wii? Nate muttered something about a lucky email. Oh yeah, that extra $30? That was just to compensate his co-worker for all of his efforts in procuring a Wii for Nate. I actually don’t remember too much after this. I might have passed out.

But I’m thinking that it just may have been worth it:

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