Hollow Chocolate Bunnies and Chest-Clutching Death

I don't know which one to pinch first. ~makes lobster grabby hands~

I was a responsible human being and paid my bills today and was rewarded by the Coinstar machine stealing twelve dollars when I tried to use it to buy an Amazon gift card. Feh. I was going to use it to buy Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential, but it will now have to wait, as the car is due for an oil change and I need to put money by for the car insurance when it comes due next month.

I had a bit of an adventure with Amazon today. I ordered a copy of Mustaine, Dave Mustaine's autobiography, in March. It was originally slated to be released in April, but was pushed to August while the lawyers peen-jousted over whether or not some of his assertions were slanderous or defamatory. Amazon asked if I wanted to wait or cancel the order. I chose to wait. I got a notice last week that the item had been shipped. Huzzah!

Last night, Amazon emailed to say that an attempt had been made to deliver the order, "but due to post office regulations," they could not complete the delivery. The order was at my post office. This had never happened before, and so I was immediately suspicious of a phishing scam. I closed the email, purged the cache, restarted the browser, and had Roomie log onto the account on his computer.

Incredibly, it wasn't a scam. According to Amazon, it had tried to deliver the order that morning and left a notice. They hadn't. I went to the USPS website and entered the tracking number. The USPS, too, claimed it had tried to deliver and failed. Well, damn.

So this morning, I schlepped to the post office in search of my package. I explained my problem to the man behind the counter, who duly went in search of the wayward package. "Are you Guera?" he called from the back room.

"Yes, sir."

He emerged with an Amazon box. Joy. I thank him and leave. I get into the car and open the box.

It's not the missing package, but another book I'd ordered, The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse, by Robert Rankin. Confused, I took my book and decided to drown my frustration with a plate of chicken fried chicken. For Yankees and other sensible people, this is cholesterol on a plate smothered in carbohydrates, saturated fat, and triglycerides. It is also heaven on a plate. After my shameless courtship with chest-clutching death, I went home. Roomie checked the mail.

Where Dave Mustaine's book was waiting. ~headdesk~

But I have my books and a full belly, so life could be worse.