Oh, for the Love of all That's Holy ...

And, no ... this is not a religious post. No positive, life-changing experiences in this entry. Life-shattering ... maybe. Life-changing --- no.

OK. I'm going to rant a bit more about my ongoing celluloid saga. I have a feeling I may be doing this for a while ... until I get everything out of my system. I can't remember the last time I was so ... well, just down-right irritated ... over something. Please, just bear with me until I manage to work out all this pent-up anger and frustration. These entries will become more fun, honest! Or, maybe, they won't ... but they (probably) will cease being an endless series of rants.

Anyhow ... as of yesterday evening, I had, pretty much, given up on the idea of getting a tracking number or, even, a reply email from the seller of my prodigal cel. That was OK. I mean ... it's not "OK", but, you know ... I had already decided on my course of action. So, in that respect, it was OK.

But, around 1 AM my time (Eastern Standard Time in the US ... like it matters >_<) I receive an email. It's from the seller. And ...

(Before I go on, I want to make sure you are sitting down. And, if you're sitting down, please grab hold of the armrests of your chair. This is a safety measure. I don't want you to fall out and break something. If you don't have any armrests on your chair ... well, Heaven help you, because I can't. Back to our regularly-scheduled rant.)

... it contains *insert suspensful music* A TRACKING NUMBER.

*insert choirs of skimpily-clad cat girls singing choruses of ALLELUIA as the cel gods' divine light shines down*

Yes, folks, that's right! That most elusive of holy grails ... the prize that has, thus far, continued to evade me in this transaction: my very own TRACKING NUMBER.

I can't believe my good fortune. I stare at the email for hours --- OK, minutes --- OK, really, it was seconds, but they were meaningful seconds. I decide this is a happy-dance-of-joy-worthy victory. But, halfway out of my chair, I think ... "but, wait". And, then, I know: I have to be sure. After all, I don't want to waste a happy-dance-of-joy on just anything, right?

So, I head to the USPS tracking site and type in my brand-new, shiny TRACKING NUMBER. Why? Oh, I don't know, really. I told myself it was so I wouldn't waste the happy-dance-of-joy, but, really, it's probably because I'm masochistic or something. But, I digress ...

I type in my TRACKING NUMBER, and this is what I see:

*tex_chan clears throat and reads, in her best computerized, toneless voice*

[quote: USPS website] The U.S. Postal Service was electronically notified by the shipper or shipping partner on October 06, 2005 to expect your package for mailing. This does not indicate receipt by the USPS or the actual mailing date. Delivery status information will be provided if / when available. Information, if available, is updated every evening. Please check again later. [/quote: USPS website]

I just sat and stared at that for a long, long time. OK ... it was another few seconds, but, we're talking "long" in terms of internet long, right? And, then, I thought ...

*tex_chan steps back and tosses glittering confetti into the air. It falls around her, spinning into swirly hearts with daggers through them. There is a puff of smoke ... and tex_chan of RAGE emerges from the transformation field*

RAGIN' tex_chan: *coughs and waves away smoke* That freaking transformation cloud is cracked. Really ... we've gotta do something about that.

RAGIN' tex_chan: *looks over USPS website tracking information* Ah, I see ... *clears throat*

OK, then, as I was saying ... In the name of everything holy, who the hell does this person think they are? They notified the post office to expect the package for mailing??? What the fuck?!? After 26 ... oh, excuse me ... 27 days now ... all they can manage to do is notify the post office? Is this person ever going to get off her happy ass and actually figure out the way to the Post Office? Doesn't MapQuest have directions for this kind of thing? So, what's the deal? Is this package gonna have to grow little, tiny legs and walk itself to the Post Office for mailing? Or, maybe, I should just call up my travel agent, book a ticket to this seller's home state, track them down, and beat them with a very large piece of Taro board... AHEM *KOFF KOFF* ... I mean ... track them down and pick up the package myself. (Although the Taro board thing sounds pretty good at the moment.) Seriously, was this person dropped on her head (repeatedly) when she was a baby? Because, I can't think of any other reason why someone would be so monumentally idiotic.

* a disturbance from the closet draws Ragin' tex_chan's attention*

*Aya emerges from the bishie closet, drawn by the sounds of angst and conflict emanating from area of the computer desk*
*He glares at Ragin' tex_chan ... Ragin' tex_chan glares back, and points to the USPS tracking service notification*

Aya: *glares at USPS webpage* DIE!

(*Ragin' tex_chan steps back and tosses a handful of throwing stars into the air. They clunk to the floor, causing Aya to say EEEP! and jump out of the way as a cloud of smoke descends, making visibility that much worse ... and tex_chan emerges from the transformation field*)

tex_chan: *dodges sharp, falling objects* EEEP!

Aya: That's my line. *glares at tex_chan*

tex_chan: *looks at Aya with her best starry-eyed, fangirl expression*

Aya: *is confused and a bit panicked* EEEP! *he beats a hasty retreat back toward the bish closet*

tex_chan: *giggles and chases after him* But, Aya!! Just let me touch your sword. I'll be good ... I promise!

Aya: DIE! *turns to glare at tex_chan ... realizes she is gaining on him* EEEP! *heads for bish closet again*

And, the cel is still missing ... sigh.

END RANT