Next week is my last week working with Atomic Crayon. I’ve accepted a job over at MetaLab and I’m really looking forward to it!

I’ve been a big fan of MetaLab for a long time, so the chance to work there is kind of amazing. I know once you actually start a job it all just ends up seeming ‘normal’, but for now I’m super stoked and a little bit star-struck.

It’s all over the news. Dooce announces her separation from her husband and it’s picked up by The Globe and Mail, The Huffington Post, and The New York Times.

This is probably why I don’t blog very much about my life anymore, and I think a lot of people feel the same way. There is something very personal about a failed relationship, and to know that millions of people are reading about your failure with their morning coffee is probably sort of shitty.

(Also, this isn’t some secret message that I’m trying to pass on about my own life being all drama-filled or anything, because it definitely isn’t. I think the most drama I’ve had recently is when Ben gave me shit for breaking the tops off of our organic bananas and then I shouted indignantly “IT WASN’T ME IT JUST HAPPENED NATURALLY!!” …Which is such a lame story that it’s almost embarrassing.)

A couple of days ago I wrote a blog entry about my frustrating experience with Hex and a warranty that I was trying to make good on.

The blog entry was a bit of a last resort after a month of tweeting and emailing, and I sent it to hex in hopes that someone over there would read it and feel sorry for me and resolve everything.

I wasn’t totally expecting a result (I was hoping!), but I got an awesome surprise: Yesterday, I got a phone call and an email from Hex apologizing for what had happened.

In short, it said this:

I left you a message earlier as well but I am going to send you a promo pack with a brand new Code wallet and I also want you to go to our website and pick out any one item off there that you desire-which I will also ship to you free of charge.

I replied and said that an extra product wasn’t necessary; all I wanted was my wallet, but Carl at Hex sent me two products anyway, which is awesome.

Less than twenty-four hours after the initial phone call (wow!) two brand new hex code wallets arrived, all the way from California:

Nice work Hex! I’m glad it worked out, because I do really like their wallets (even though my boss tells me that it makes me look like a super nerd to have a wallet-phone combo. But whatever. It’s called convenience, bitches.) I did a lot of research on phone-wallets before I bought my Hex Code Wallet, and it was definitely the best available option!

It’s funny how writing a blog entry can lead to some interesting results. Like Dooce vs Maytag, although that was obviously a lot more epic than me and a $50 wallet. I wonder if blogging about discontent will always lead to these kind of results, or if at some point companies will decide that there are two many bloggers complaining and that it’s not worth it.

Anyway, this was awesome and a lot of fun. Thank you Carl and Hex! Yay!

Ben and I own this god-awful car.

I actually like to call it Ben’s car, not my car, because I pretty much never drive it anywhere unless there is an extreme emergency and the only way we’ll survive is if I drive the car. For example: If there was a Japan-like earthquake and we had to move to higher ground in order to avoid being crushed by an out-of-control tsunami (as if there’s any other kind of tsunami), I would drive the car. But that’s about the only time I’ll do it.

The heat doesn’t work (it smells like gas when you turn it on, which may explain why it burns $40 in gas every week) and when it freezes over night, our car has to have its windows scraped while all the cars around us are perfectly clear, like somehow OUR CAR freezes over easier than everyone else’s. Motherfucker.

If that’s not enough suckiness for you, the other thing is that this car was given to Ben by a friend who didn’t want to pay for insurance anymore, and immediately after receiving it we had to drop a bunch of money on replacement parts. Luckily, my dad’s a mechanic or we probably would have just left that car to die. However, sometimes the friend brings up what a nice guy he was for giving us his car, and it takes a lot of willpower not to shout “THE CAR IS CURSED, GODDAMNIT!” at him.

Exciting fact: While working on the car, my dad discovered a mouse nest under the hood.

Since this car is:
a) old,
and
b) the absolute poster child for ugly,
not a lot of people own them.

However, shortly after moving into our current apartment, we discovered that there was another person in the neighbourhood who owned the car.

I remember the first time we drove by him, he waved at us, and I was like “BEN! That guy with our car just waved at us!” and he says sort of sadly, “I know. He waves at me Every. Time. I. Drive. By.”

We’ve been living there for nine months now, and the guy never misses a wave. Ben HATES it. “I can’t stop waving now because I’ll seem like a dick. But what are we doing? Waving at each other to acknowledge that we both have the shittiest car on the planet? Who does that? I don’t even know this guy!”

So he keeps dreading passing the waver on the road, and begrudgingly waving back whenever he does, often mumbling insults under his breath because Ben is sort of a dick like that.

Yesterday we were driving home and I saw the car approaching. Ben automatically waves. The guy driving the car gives us an awkward wave back and Ben says “Shit. That’s not the same guy. I just waved for no reason.”

We really have to get a new car.

I will no longer wear my pajamas down to the lobby of my building.
It’s just too risky. I have run into hot guys WAY too many times down there. Like, more than you would think.

Every time I say to myself “I’ll just quickly run down and no one will even notice!” But the last time I said this I got stuck in the elevator with two construction workers and all I could think about was how I was wearing a bright purple fuzzy top with no bra. Humiliating.

Also, I know you’re all wondering why I’d want to “Just quickly run down to the lobby” while wearing an outfit that Ben dubs “The Barney outfit” And the answer is laundry. Doing some laundry. So it’s not THAT weird that I want to go in my pjs, right?

But anyway. Resolution. No more pajamas in public. Period.