Is it possible for me to hate the mail guy more? I don't think so. He just made his rounds through the hall blessing everyone. SATAN.

Okay, so lots of updating. Since I last wrote, Kate and I have worked two events where we sold our jewelry, both with completely different results. The first one was a bit more grass roots which is a nice way of saying that arty hipsters don't have any money to spend on non-ironic jewelry. Perhaps, instead, we should've been selling bras because there was a notable lack of them. Noah seems to think this isn't such a bad thing but I really don't think we were looking at the same example of bralessness. Trust me on this. Also, that crowd seemed way more intrigued with our display than with what we had on display.

See, we filled cigar boxes with various kinds of beans and stuck the carded earrings in the beans to anchor them. This worked great because it was really windy. People loved the beans. No, I mean they LOVED the damn beans. What kind of beans are they? Where did you buy the beans? I've never seen that kind of bean before! Could you dig out the bag and tell me what they are? How do you prepare the beans? GODDAMN IT. I now have a title for my biopic: ITS NOT ABOUT THE BEANS.

One notable exception was a dour guy who told us about his father who sold jewelry from a kiosk in college (or in Holland, he was mumbling). He disapproved of the beans-as-display-prop because you couldn't see the jewelry properly. I told him he wouldn't be able to see it properly if it was blowing down the street either. Hmph. He then asked his baby-toting woman if she liked our stuff. She said she did and was he going to give her money to buy some? No, he was not. Asshole. (She came back later with a fistful of dollars she'd borrowed from a friend. We gave her a discount.)

Last weekend was a neighborhood strawberry festival and we did much better, with special thanks to our friends who came to support us with wallets in tow. No thanks at all to friends who IGNORED my pleas to come support us. You are dead to me. To those who attended we appreciate it because it wasn't the Event of the Year or anything. Honestly, the hardest part about selling stuff at a venue like that is having to smile and be friendly all day. It's just not in my nature at all. However, it's mostly a lot of sitting around with Kate and snarking on people's outfits and that comes so naturally I could do it in my sleep. Yeah. If I could make a career out of it I would, for real.

Last item of business: Magnavox. Okay, remember how my TV sucks and how I got angry and wrote a strongly-worded letter? It freaking WORKED. I got a call from the President's Liaison who has promised to cover the cost of the TV's repair. Man, good stuff, that. It hasn't actually happened yet, but he promises to send a concession letter to the repair place so it should be all good. The part that sucks is the part where we have to haul a 27" television halfway across town so some sweaty and out of breath guy (I swear, does he do a fifty-yard dash every time the phone rings? It's called cordless, buddy. It's the latest in technology.) can hopefully repair it and make the bad noise go away. We'll see. You'll hear all about it either way, never fear.

Have a blessed Monday, bitchez.

2 chatty monkeys