I bought two books online, on March 15, and both supposedly shipped on March 16 — via Media Mail. And today, ten days later, they haven’t arrived.
One shipped from Philadelphia, only a few miles down the turnpike, and the other is coming from New York. So, you see, neither is originating in Singapore or the Australian outback, or anyplace like that.
And it’s really starting to agitate me. I know it’s only been ten days, but the shipping notifications cause the problem. I could understand someone taking a little too long to get a book packaged and mailed. Not a big deal. But after they go to the trouble of sending a shipping confirmation…
On March 18 I started anticipating the deliveries, and every day since then I’ve been disappointed. The last couple of days I began edging past disappointment, toward anger.
Media Mail is the culprit, I’m convinced. As far as I know, it’s the cheapest service the post office offers. It’s for printed materials and sound recordings, or somesuch, and is as slow as a Wisconsin dump.
Seriously. How could a package take a week and a half to get from Philadelphia to Scranton? A four year old on a Big Wheel could’ve delivered it by now.
I’d be very interested to know how Media Mail is processed. Clearly it’s the lowest of low priorities, and the parcels are likely used as step stools and traction-aids for mail trucks stuck in the mud. I’m picturing my book wedged up underneath the leg of a table right now, to stop it from rocking.
Or maybe they have a team of psychics and spoon-benders, who will the stuff to be delivered?
Yeah, I might be getting a little carried away. But where are my freaking books? Ten days with the US Postal Service is too long. At least five days too long.
And yes, I know. Some people have serious problems. And if this is all I have to worry about, I’m doing pretty well. I get it, Mr. Well-Adjusted Centered Zen Adult.
But I still want my fucking books!
Yesterday morning Toney called and told me our oldest boy had been hurt at school. She didn’t have all the details, but the nurse said he’s been poked in the eye “while roughhousing.”
She thought his eye should be looked-at by a doctor, ’cause it was a pretty serious jab. So Toney called the eye doc, and they said they could see him at 1:30. In the meantime she wanted me to pick him up, and bring him home.
So, I returned to the middle school (it sometimes feels like I live at that place), and collected the oldest Secret. And he said he’d been sitting in homeroom, when some idiot zit-spangled obese nerd-boy comes running up, yells “I’M A NINJA!” and pokes him in the eye.
WTF? What kind of ninja announces himself via hollering? And then starts poking eyeballs like Moe? Worst ninja ever…
Everything checked out, though; his eye is fine. It cost us a twenty-five dollar co-pay, not to mention the unnecessary pain, etc. And I have a small issue with the vice principal that I probably shouldn’t get into…
But the episode is over (for the most part), and the injury was nothing serious. Which is a relief… I had, um, visions of a detached retina, or something that might require surgery. So, it had a happy ending.
It got me to thinking, though, about people who were seriously injured during my checkered and highly-questionable public school career. And briefly, these are the events that jumped immediately to mind:
In Junior High some kid was jumping on the trampoline in gym class, landed chin-first, and bit a big hunk of his tongue off. He went sprinting outside, with blood pouring out of his mouth like Gene Simmons. It was fantastic!
Also during Junior High gym we were forced to wrestle by some “coach” who probably enjoyed watching 14 year old boys sweat and roll around and grab each others’ asses.
Anyway, some kid named Mike broke his arm during one of those homoerotic displays. There was a loud SNAP! like a tree limb breaking, and he stood up with a horrified look on his face and one extra elbow. His right arm was bent at the middle, then again between elbow and wrist.
Shit! It still gives me the heebie-jeebies, even now.
Another Junior High casualty was a kid name Craig, who got shoved into a bush of bees. We were outside playing touch football, or something equally horrible, when one of our classmates thought it would be funny to body-check Craig into buzzing, pulsating foliage.
Yeah, Junior High sucked on so many levels… But especially for guys like Craig. He also got shoved down once while using a urinal, his wiener retracted, and he peed straight down the right leg of his jeans. Heh.
And in High School (or was it the Junior High again?) some kids were jumping off the top of the bleachers, onto big pieces of foam. They were like giant loaves of bread, and they’d shoved a bunch of them together and were jumping on them.
Unfortunately, however, one kid landed between two of the loaves, tailbone-first. And when he hit the floor (THUD!) he started jerking and convulsing. Scary stuff, but somehow he wasn’t seriously hurt. He was back to doing stupid shit within days.
And now it’s your turn. Please use the comments link below to tell us about People Getting Hurt at School. Do you have any stories to tell on that subject? We’d love to hear (read) ’em!
Before I call it a day here, I’d like to alert you to two full pages of new Smoking Fish sightings. They’re especially good, I think, so please don’t miss them. Here and here.
Also, the Surf Report was discussed at length in a recent podcast, titled Viva LaZimmer. You can check it out here (episode 2). They even read an excerpt from the Rocky Stories. Very cool. Thanks guys, I enjoyed it!
And that’s all for now. Until next time…
Have a great day, my friends.
That is the whole point of Media Mail – it is dirt cheap. If you want if faster you gotta pay for it.
My cousin in IA and me in CA swap books all the time via Media mail and pay PENNIES for pounds of books that do sometimes take 3 weeks to get there.
A Post Office slave explained it to me – Media Mail gets the last spot on the truck and if more Priority mail comes in before the truck leaves, the Media Mail comes OFF the truck and is back waiting. This can go on for as long as there is higher priority mail.
So suck it up if you want the cheap service!! 🙂
Cousin and I. Not Cousin and me.
Suck it up? I didn’t mail the books, somebody else did. I paid $3.99 postage, for each. The seller probably paid 62 cents. And somehow I’m being unreasonable? I love that.
Warning: Long post ahead….
Jeff – The USPS doesn’t take responsibility for anything! That is one of the reasons I stopped selling on Ebay (besides exorbident fee’s).
For instance..and I will NEVER agree with this and it is a great source for an arguement of Ebay lovers… If you mail a package and the contents arrive damaged, not only do you have to refund the buyer the cost of the item, you have to refund THEIR shipping charges as well. “Insurance” is only for lost/stolen packages. Ebay claims it is the sellers fault the item was damaged and didn’t get the it’s destination safely due to poor packaging….no matter if the USPS used it as a step stool, crushed it under weight of heaver items, ran it over…whatever. It’s the seller’s fault…fuck you…no matter what.
If the buyer is nice enough to take the damaged package with its contents and packing material to the PO for you in accordance with the insurance claim…the PO will deny any wrong doing… fuck you…claim lost. If the buyer gets the item an smashes with a hammer…fuck you..refund their money w/shipping charges. Buyers have no responsiblity whatsoever and will give negative feedback if you don’t comply to their demands. Unfortunately there are a lot of people out there that do this quite often.
Now, as a seller, you can request and, Ebay suggests, the buyer sends the item back at their cost…but trust me, it is a battle.
So don’t tear your hair out…just remember it’s the USPS and they do what they want when they want.
you should have told me me you were ordering from Philly, I could have hired a bum down the street to hitchhike it up to you faster for a buck or two….
ahhh YES!!! a new million dollar idea…”B.U.M.S”
“Bums United Mailing Service”
I’ll give all my bum delivery guys a cheap cell phone and send the person that ordered the number. You can call up and get a status whenever you want. Talk about real time tracking!
Jeff “I paid $3.99 postage, for each.”
There are a ton of used and remaindered books on Amazon I’d love to buy were it not for these folks charging $3.99 shipping for a $5.00 used book. I’ve been pampered by Amazon 2 day express. Cue Homer Simpson standing in front of the microwave oven, “A miiiiiinuuuuuute? Aw, why does everything take so long?”
A girl was killed on the Maypole at my elementary school the year before I started. They took the chains off, but left the pole there taunting us for years afterward. I always hated clumsy kids who got hurt all the time. They ruined the fun for everyone else. Same applies to lawn darts.
58th! Yay! I’m a juvenile again!
Sniff. . . .heartbroken
I offended Jeff …
Was trying to be funny ….. . . (but then again I GOT A RESPONSE! 🙂 )
most of the books I have purchased on ebay charge this: ” $2.38US Postal Service Media Mail”
For $2.38 I’ll wait for awhile. And $3.99 is better than priority mail.. ..
WB in OH says
Ha Ha 60th suckers!
Tyrosene, you mention old gravel pit, the old Pond Mills pit? My friends and I spent many an hour biking through the trails there. I took my 10speed through there a couple times, had a blast, surprised I didn’t go sprawling through the underbrush on some of those trails.
So we’re out riding one day and one of the “other” groups of guys has a street bike turned dirt bike, or at least what an early teens idea of turning a street bike into a dirt bike is, he is blasting up from the pit face along a trail full throttle and takes one of the hills… We’re on an ajoining trail and keeping an eye open for him… bike is still wide open, and then its suddenly really wide open and just as suddenly really quiet… we see this bike sailing through the air starting to tumble, gas tank separating and this guy in a backward superman posistion (back to the ground, feet going first) sailing through the air behind the bike… and theres the thud and crash of bike hitting the ground and a muffled thud as he touches down. We go looking for him and he’s lying on the ground with a stupid grin staring at the sky….
Bill in WV says
Jerry, yep that’d be me. Poor guy was UNDER the urinal.
The pit I’m referring to is out in Lambeth behind Copp’s Buildall and the Olco station. I lived across from McEachren Public School.
I did go to Laurier for high school, so I’m familiar with Pond Mills. Where was the pit you are talking about? Near the end of Southdale by the tracks, or north of Commissioners on Shelborne?
End of Shelborne. Had to look at a map for that one, the entire area bounded by the river, Pond Mills, Highbury and Commisioners was brush/bush/pit as I prefer to remember it (You know your getting old when…)
McEachren’s days are numbered, I think this school year is the last for it. Dufield is getting expanded to accommodate the area kids.
I grew up within sight of St. Sebastions. (block away from the Pond Mills pit as the crow flies).
Amanda Leigh says
I went to a rough middle school. One day, two eighth grade girls started fighting. One was a petite little scrapper and one was a tall, fat over-developed girl. Big girl was getting the raw end of it so she starts fighting dirty. She grabbed the front of short girl’s sweater and ripped it off of her, taking the bra as she went. The short girl looks down at her bare chest, says, “Bitch, I loved that sweater” and proceeds to WHALE on that big ol girl. My buddy Joel was sharing my bus seat and he stopped breathing completely in complete & utter bliss. After the big girl is motionless & bloodied on the floor, short girl turns to Joel and demands his jacket. He tore it off as fast as he could & she calmly covered up. She walked up & got off at the next bus stop, a full 3 miles before her proper stop. I think that bus driver retired at the end of the year.
I hated that school. I saw more fights there in 3 years than in ALL the years combined since then.
Some comments on the comments at 0200 on a rainy Pacific Northwest night. Haven’t had a drink in 13 or 14 years, but about two more days of rain and I’ll likely rip into my guest bar.
1) I think the Reporters were a little hard on Brittney. She seems nice, and it’s not like she was wrong. She couldn’t know that Jeff buys a case of golden elixir at the end of each year for the Reporter who logs the most firsts.
2) WB, you were nice to Brittney, but accused Jeff of writing a blog. This place is far too cool to be a blog and not cool enough for Jeff to get parcel service.
3) JCIII, when I went to school P.E. was strictly gender-separated. I still think those Imams were too fucking stodgy.
4) If you’d like to enjoy a really good piece of writing, re-read Gretchen’s comment. In fewer than 100 words she told a story that could fill a 22-minute sitcom; she used only two adverbs and one was “full-on”; and using Virginia Slim as the singular of Virginia Slims was inspired. It was nearly elegant enough to warm the cockles of Brynhildr’s heart.
I’m not Gretchen’s father, although I qualify by age; based on this and previous comments, her father is Jor-El.
If I could write that well I’d be a happier man.
Swami Bologna says
Hey Brittney, one thing that really irritates me is the phrase “shits and giggles.” That’s about the dumbest phrase I’ve ever heard, and for some odd reason it became semi-popular about two years ago. Its time for it to end. Please. No more.
Oh, and … 67th!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I saw a kid fall off the top of the old fashion ‘griddle’ stainless steel slide and snap his wrist. At first they tried to blame me since I was the closest to the incident. Luckily when the kid stopped wailing; he fessed up.
In high school wrestling; I grabbed a teammates arm and his elbow dislocated. I felt bad but my cousin heard it and thought it was the greatest thing. He kept telling everyone how it ‘SNAPPED’. He would snap his fingers really loud while telling the story.
At age 12 or 13 we thought it would be fun to duck our heads below our handle bars and drift under the back end of parked 18 wheelers at a paper plant. One of the stooges lifted his head too early and busted his head wide open. he looked like a ‘losing octogon fighter’ with blood pouring down his face. I think he got 40 or 50 stiches and half his head shaved.
Awwwww….I wanted the 69! dammit!
I manage a couple of social housing projects on Shelborne. FYI: What remains of your childhood playground has now been approved for subdivision. Apparently the whole area from Highbury to Pond Mills, right down to the river is involved. I don’t know when they are planning on starting, but if you want one last look around before it turns into a sea of cookie cutter homes I suggest you don’t delay.
My great grandfather build McEachren. The place was falling apart when I went there 30+ years ago. Closing it is the right decision.
St. Sebastions eh? Do you know Domenic Anello?
You snooze you lose Sidney…
Well thanks, JTB. You’re going to swell my head into believing that I could complete the world with a blog of my own. Unfortunately the Dark Force in the Universe Known as My Mother is finally taking the plunge and getting online, so that’s an impossibility now. In any event, the fine peeps around here are going to start throwing me into the bug bushes if you keep up all this flattery. There were many fine entries on the topic at hand, my current favorite being Amanda Leigh’s (though your reference to Wile E. Coyote was much appreciated). Please spread your accolades around! 🙂
In other news, if I go to hell I expect the very first thing I’ll encounter is an obstacle course set up like my 70s era gym class. Clamber up a three story high rope, with nothing but a thin blue pad to “break” the inevitable fall? What do I look like, the missing link? I don’t think so!
did the would be ninja get punished? or was that the fight with the principal.
Tyrosene, whats left of my childhood playground vanished with the first street that got pulled in. I went to take my truck out back via the Cleavland St. “easy way in” way back when before any houses started getting built for one last go around, and as I’m going up the drive, I notice its all been cleaned up, manicured and fenced. Go further to find “Private Drive” signs all over (guess I’m not the only one who was being nostalgic) and ended with a fence and trees blocking my way and a driveway veering off to some McMansion. That killed it for me. F’ing progress…
The name sounds familiar. But I havn’t kept in contact with any of the old school folks. Different directions, moving, lost contact, the typical way things go.
GrandFathers name chiseled into any of the bricks? Or your own? =-)
WB in OH says
JTB-You’re right I called it a blog. If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, it’s probably a duck. Jeff just happens to have the coolest duck. If you come up with a cool alternitive to blog, I’m all ears but chances are that the new term will just be stolen by everyone else anyway.
Oh, and who won the case of beer last year for the most 1st comments?
My report on media mail…I placed two orders through the wvsr link to Amazon. One order on the 21st and then another on 22nd. Estimated date of arrivel March 30…all items in stock. Cds and DVDs. Checked back on order satus and saw they shipped on the 25th. Checked back today and it said “delivery attempted”. I get no door delivery here so I drove to the Post Office (1.5 miles). Jim locks up at noon on Saturdays but he was there and when he saw me walk in he headed to the back and came back with a box from Amazon. They combined both orders (both qualified for free shipping…$5.95 & $4.96) and there they were. The box shipped media mail from Phoenix, about 650 miles from there and everything stops about 175 miles from here before it’s sent up. So…650 miles with one stop and here in two days (actually less than 48 hours) via media mail. Just sayn’…not to piss you know who off. (that too was a joke Jeffery).
Oh….the ninja wannabe and Secert 1 roughhousing…I’m just paraphrasing but here’s my take:
Zit kid…………..”I’m a ninja warrior!”
Secrete 1…….”You’re a stupid fat faggot!”
Eye poking follows proving Secret 1’s assertion.
I know ninjas. My grandmother was a ninja…I swear.
I could be alone and fifty yards out back and throwing rocks at rocks and she would appear out of nowhere.
Her ninja ear twist was a reminder The Gates of Hell are open 24 hrs. a day and she new the maitre D’.
Ok…back to the third floor. Spring training games and opening day in two weeks.
I think it was Shiny Rod…
yeah I know……knew….crap!!
You killed Mockable! You Bastard!
Good Morning Surf Reporters…
0630 on a rainy Northwest morning.
I’ve been doing my “comments on comments” for the last six or seven months. I just spent two hours reading 25 random days from the last six months. That’s only a sample rate of about 20%, but I have to get to bed. Here’s what I found…
I wrote extended comments admiring comment posts by kristin, Tyrosine and Chuck in Belpre. I wrote shorter posts noting particularly pithy comments by AngryWhiteGuy, kenju, Pagan, White Trash Barbie, RNK, Knucklehead, Melissa, Jason, Ian and clintcurtis. I assume the other 80% of the days would extend that list materially.
I like fine writing and there’s plenty of it on this site. Jeff sets the tone. I thought Gretchen offered a great comment today and also about three days ago. However, I embarrassed her with my flowery praise. I apologize for the embarrassment and will do my best not to repeat it.
The world needs all the elegant prose it can get its mitts on, and I appreciate all the great writing that appears on this site — by Jeff and by the Reporters.
Good night and good luck,
I’ve never seen anyone comment on their commenting on comments. Interresting! No big deal… as I just commented about someone commenting on their commenting on comments. Actually…there was more of a complimenting of comments going on during all the commenting of comments rather than just commenting on comments…wasn’t there? I believe this commenting on comments is exactly how Bennent Cerf got his start.
Crap…I came down from the third floor to answer the phone. It just kept ringing. I hang up after six if the answering hadn’t kicked in by then. I got a long day today. Three ball games and PBA bowling to watch. And I’m supposed to do an interview with our local ‘Paper’. People around here call it “The Charmin” so I’ll think I’ll just answer all their questions with…”No comment”.
Swami Bologna says
You killed Mockable! Yawwwnnnn.
Swami Bologna says
And before the bullets start flying — hey, I was trying to be funny. So all you Mockable lovers (and especially Metten and Jeff), no barbs of retribution, please.
I had lawn darts.
We use to throw them up in the air, just to see where they would land.
Chuck in Belpre says
Stop that before you cause a rip in the Space/Time Continuum.
Chuck in Belpre says
And what the hell is up with Guy Fieri? Frikkin dude is everywhere. I don’t get it.
Crap…I don’t know who the fuck keeps calling at this hour on a Sunday. People should be in fucking church at this hour of the the goddamn morning. This shit is starting to piss me off. Whoever you are…knock it the fuck off and go pray I don’t fucking find out who the fuck you are.
Wow…kinda got away from me there! So……
Swami…I like what Jeff and Metten were doing over there. They actually opened the airways to wannanbe, think-I-am, I can do that folks who would want to write something. Somehow…something like mockable would languish when all the while it was open to the www of the wvsr readers and more. I don’t get it and I’m sure Jeff and Metten don’t either. I had six or so things go up over there. Maybe not all gems…but the producers liked them. I put up a couple comments over there (fucking phone) today while it’s still wezzing and before they pull the plug. Click on mockables down there at the bottom. (no barb intended here Swami. Just my $.02)…-d
“Life is short. Shorter for some than others.”…Augustus McRae
I have a brief comment on your comments about my comments about my comments about comments. At first I thought I had invoked a Fibonacci sequence, but upon reflection realized I had descended into the world of fractals. I think this deep dive into a Mandelbrot set will explain my thinking…jtb
Thanks there jtb…I lasted 10 seconds. Not much into pink I guess. And that’s junior year high school stuff where I come from. Thanks anyway…-d
Twins and Sox on MLB at 1pm eastern. Gotta go back to the third floor. I unpluged the phone…duh?!
Chuck….I Laughed Out Loud.
Can’t talk….being hypnotized by fractals.
I’m just here for shits and giggles 🙂
Injuries at school? Wow – where to begin…
Well, there was one day at P.E. when we played baseball on the city tennis courts (with the nets up – go figure – P.E. teachers aren’t always so bright I guess). Some kid is trying to score and the first baseman rifles a throw to home that nails the kid flush in the jaw as he crosses the plate (but the run counted!!). Now we’re talking a real baseball here (again – P.E. teachers weren’t so smart in the 1970’s) so the blood starts spewing immediately, along with a few teeth I’m sure – although the blood has stayed in my nightmares far longer. The kid ate lunch through a straw for the rest of the year.
Around that same year, some kids started shaking the pole that held up the basketball goal because the other kids wouldn’t let them play. Apparently, the years of neglect and significant rust didn’t provide enough tensile strength and the pole eventually came crashing down on the kids who were playing. Hit one kid in the head, and he wore glasses for the of his life. Another kid took it on the leg and came back to school in wheelchair – surprisingly enough, there were no further injuries from the Wheelchair 500 that took place through the hallways until he healed.
There were more, but all of this brings back a glorious/painful kickball moment. I’m playing outfield and some kid kicks a monster over my head. I finally get to the ball and – being all of 4′ 6″ – don’t have the strength to throw ball all the way to the infield so I kick it instead as the grade-school Henry Aaron is approaching 3rd base. As fate would have it, my laser-guided cruise missile lands on Hank’s back about 2 steps before he crosses the plate, and all hell breaks loose. Is he out, or is he safe because you have to “throw” the ball to get someone out? The playground riot went on for 10 minutes! Surf Reporters – you make the call.