I got bumped on a Southwest flight- I did not understand their cattle process of lining up by number and checking in process. Being from New York, I am the planner. I want a seat number dammit- no matter how sucky it is. Even it if is next to Mr. Stinky or a crying baby- my OCD or anxiety kicks in without the assurance of the seat number on my ticket. I think New Yorkers or Americans are born with it- schedules, places to go, FOMO, YOLO, Hulu, DVR- whatever stuff we are missing out on.
So I got bumped from the flight and apparently you get a check made out to YOU on the spot for three times the cost of the ticket. You are telling me- now you will reward my absolutely most annoying quality of being late? Yeah, I am serious. God sent me the message that he wanted me to buy the RF machine I was eyeing for $250 to fix my cellulite. The Good Lord knew that I would never afford or buy a cellulite machine for myself but he wanted to help this single mom love her body and find herself some love- with Amazon Prime Shipping.
So in the six hour lay-over in the airport over a glass of overpriced Cab- I found my RF machine. Evidently Asia doesn't deal with the annoyances of FDA or whatever American job producing associations we created to protect our health and safety; so we can order medical grade equipment along with candy on Amazon. Genius. (Don't judge, I have overnighted candy over night- we all have our vices if you dig). And making a blatant race generalization- I can't complain that a lot of Asians are looking young and skinny- so they are doing something right.
So a few weeks later, I get three notices that DHL is attempting to deliver my product. DHL? They usually deliver mattresses and cumbersome furniture. How big is this machine? Excited that I may now be the Living Social beauty deal of my friends (you know come over, drink wine and get skinny with me while we watch reruns of Sex and the City); I will be the popular girl. I will be the Candy Spelling or Adrienne Maloof of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills with a spa in my house- this fantasy runs through my mind as I am frustrated I have to go pick this thing up.
They won't deliver to my house. Lo and behold, I arrive with a skip in my step to get my fat busting, cellulite smoothing machine from DHL. I am greeted by a woman who leaves the counter for a long amount of time- to retrieve my package. Wow- is this going to fit in my car? I see a few men come up front with smirks and some I guess only can be called giggles- come up front milling about only to return to the back. And finally- my package comes out. No bigger than any other package that would contain a microwave or such come out. However, this package is wrapped in cellophane- with large writing on the side- all sides "PERSONAL MASSAGER" all over.
These DHL people thought I was getting a "special" massager- of a personal nature- a large one at that and they wanted to see which woman was woman enough to people to handle that massager. Meanwhile, can't you just help a lady out who wants to wear a bathing suit without feeling like she needs to wear a mu-mu like Kyle Richards pre-surgery?
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