First of all, if you don’t know anything about Rebecca Black, or the ear-slicing known as “Friday,” I implore you to click here and here for my e-twin Cheekie’s play-by-play, and IAmYourPeople’s message to parents who put their kids through that hot bewl. When you’re up to speed, come back, and I’ll set the scene.
*looks at watch* *does the chicken noodle soup* *scratches nose*
Okay, you’re back? Great! So, I was scrolling Tumblr the other night, when I saw a post titled Rebecca Black Challenge. It appeared that the challenge was to look at a YouTube video, which turned out to be a horrible dub of Black’s “Friday,” and see how long one could last without laughing. I saw comments of mostly people who couldn’t last a minute, and I decided that this was a challenge best suited for my webcam. Taking a cue from ragetunes, I became the “Challenge Accepted” guy, and got geared up.
Below are my results. I didn’t have a voice, but that didn’t stop shenanigans from making its way in my life.
*sigh* The things I do for foolishness. Anyway, fair folks, have you ever seen or heard of Rebecca Black before now? Did you take the challenge? If so… how long did you fare?
Today is National Women & Girls’ HIV/AIDS Awareness Day (NWGHAAD, which I’ve decided to pronounce ‘newguhaad’). There’s a red banner in my sidebar, if you haven’t noticed, that prompts one to “Rock the Red Pump” in honor of this day? This movement was created two years ago in order to keep awareness both relevant and stylish. Luvvie and Karyn have worked relentlessly to get the campaign rolling via The Red Pump Project, and I’m ecstatic to stay that there will be a record-breaking number of blogs (over 1,000) rocking red pumps in their sidebars, banners, and on their actual feet.
Why is awareness important, you say? Why do we rock red pumps, you ask? Well, let’s look at some facts to find out.
People are having sex. Unprotected sex, even. Doing so without full knowledge of your partner’s status opens you up to a whole world of risky behavior, which can be prevented.
HIV Every 9.5 minutes, someone tests positive for HIV in the US. Every 35 minutes, that someone is a woman.
Knowing your status (along with your partner’s) can help prevent it from happening to you.
Talking about sex, protection, and diseases with your friends and loved ones can help keep them safe, also.
It’s real, people. It’s scary. We don’t want you to be that person years down the line saying, “I didn’t know” or “I didn’t think it could happen to me.” True enough, if you’re having sex, it CAN happen to you, if you’re not fully equipped with the knowledge to keep it from happening. I’ve read stories, seen countless presentations, and unfortunately, have even had a family member pass away from it. That is why these conversations must go on. Parents must talk to their children. Women, have these conversations with your friends, and your partners. Care enough to know. Know enough to care.
Rocking the red pump does not put you in a sacred position; in fact, I would daresay it makes one a bit more vulnerable. We don’t shy away from talking about these issues; we want to remove the taboo. We’re willing to talk, to equip you, to empower you with knowledge. We’re willing to share our stories and testimonies in order to build you up. We’re offering ourselves, and all that we have, to protect the future statuses of our friends and loved ones. Awareness is not only in style, but it is quite sexy.
If you need more information on where to find testing in your area, please click here. If you have any questions for me, leave an anonymous comment, or shoot me an email. If you’re curious about the Red Pump Project, and the events going on to create awareness in your area.
Let’s talk friends. Knowing is everything. –Beez
(Sidenote: I’m ashamed to admit this, but upon scouring my closet, I realize I have not one pair of red shoes. In honor of the day, though, I have a red (faux) Snuggie that I will rock all the same, while waiting for the shoes to come.)
Hello. Fancy seeing me here. I’ll spare the excuses, just know that isht has gotten real. And I’m dealing with it, much like the good Beez I am. But anyway, the title of the tale should clue you in a bit: I need a new all-purpose bag. I almost want to call the bag “Old Rusty,” like my old apartment, but I fear that I have used all of my mileage with that term, so I’ll just explain how Baggy Mack got into my life.
The backstory: About 5 years ago, I was doing my normal perusing of the local Old Navy, probably for clearance tanks and performance fleece. In the clearance section, I found a black sling bag for 97 cents (sidenote to the sidenote: I find a lot of things at this particular Old Navy for 97 cents– most recently, a DRESS. Yep, they’ll forever have me as a customer.). I’ve never gotten into the habit of wearing purses, a fact that probably still makes Mama Beez want to disown me from time to time, but I figure I’ll be a real grown up lady one day. It’s a process. Seeing it as a basic black bag, no frills, plus the fact that I needed something more than a backpack to carry everyday, I took the offer.
Me and Baggy Mack hit it off immediately. I took him everywhere, save formal events. It was my explorer pack in foreign cities like Chicago, my resource bag when taking windy nature walks at home, and a few friends can even attest to my tendencies to keep a little of everything in him, including first- aid. Sure enough, I had a mom bag. My sister-in-law wondered about the whole lack of compartments, but I, not knowing much about bag-ness, decided I didn’t need much, as long as I had Baggy Mack. Check out our journey below:
Me and some folks I’m related to. 🙂 2006
Another of my good friends. 2006
First straightening after growing a fro for 2 years- 2007.
My Chicago travel companion, 2010.
Holder of water bottles, cell phone chargers and extra batteries, iPods, books for long bus and train rides… I’m getting emotional. No Carl Thomas.
A sidekick even when my human sidekick is unavailable. Identity concealed b/c he didn’t appreciate me letting him leave the house like that.
Some years down the line, I noticed a hole. That hole became a rip, which resonated in my heart. Was my beloved knapsack falling to pieces, and I didn’t have a suitable replacement? I questioned how it could have happened: Did I let someone’s baby carry it? I didn’t get it caught in any rear bus doors since that one time! Does falling on a bag put stress on it? Sure enough, none of the things that were happening were my fault. Baggy Mack is just getting old. I even tried to ignore the telltale shoulder rash from me carrying it on the ‘usual spot’– the fact that I had a usual spot… Let’s see:
The front. Even the zipper area and shoulder strap is getting frayed.
Is that a tear?
A rip on the side. Oh, my darling.
A sampling of my daily wares: hat, book, bandage, church handouts, kool-aid single, gum, 3 types of lip balm, notebook and pen…
With that said, I need a new bag. Perhaps it’s time for me to transition into grown lady bags, but I don’t have the knowledge or patience to scour through stores and websites. To me, THEY ALL LOOK THE SAME, and it’s pretty confusing. Much like shoe shopping. I can probably take a needle and thread to Baggy Mack to prolong his eventual demise, but I feel like I should introduce a new sack to get the both of us acclimated in the meantime. So, friends, if you’re willing to share and answer, I have a few questions:
What style of bag do you use for everyday carriage?
Do you have a variety of bags (purses, clutches, backpacks, etc.), or do you stick to the ‘one bag fits all’ philosophy like I have?
Do you know of a place (or website) where I can get one that will stand the test of time, like my dear Baggy Mack? Any preferred brands? (PS- I will accept hand-me-downs.)
Other than that, let’s just say I’m back in business. Shoulder strain and all.
PS- Check out the my verbose friend Naturally Alise’s blog today. It features an exchange between the two of us about New Edition. For those who don’t know who NE is, click this and this. Love youse!
Relax. Just do it. *mumble mumble* Get through it. Wait… what?
Hay, y’all. Hay.
Well, I’ve visited a doctor since I had a car accident about a week ago, and have realized my tendency to downplay my ailments and injuries probably isn’t the best practice. I’m still having some strain in my back and shoulders, and while thugging it out has its strong points (because thugs don’t take pills on a regular schedule!), I’ll need more than the meds that I (am not really) taking to get back to that 98 1/2% that I’m usually in. For me, that means expanding my worlds to new horizons.
I’ve been prescribed physical therapy, and I start today. The doctor describes it as a way for me to rebuild my muscles and learn to strengthen and condition them in case some other mess happens to me for my general well-being, but I’ve always seen it as a place where folks get all into my nooks and crannies while throwing medicine balls at me. I’ve watched WAY too much television in my time, but y’all already knew that, right?At this point, I’m willing to try anything once, because these back cramps are not what’s lukewarm in the boulevards. This brings me to the lesson of the day.
Until I’m back into the completely functional mess that I am, I’ll need the help of a few products to get me there. As you all know from previous posts, I’m a huge infomercial head. In this time of, well, I don’t know what to call everything that’s been coursing through my head these days, but in order to lighten my mood, I’ve decided on some products that you may have seen on TV to get me through:
1-The Gopher: First off, it’s sold by Billy Mays. BILLY! MAYS! Based on the star power alone, I’d buy it. Although we miss him in the ad world (which I am not a part of), his memory lives on in spots such as this. Filled with gems such as “handy helper,” “squeeze and retrieve,” and “suction action,” Mays lives up to the title I gave him as the “hardest working man in infomercials.” Look at the Gopher in action: it can pick up a five pound can of sugar! Five pounds! I’d be able to do so much with that, without further inflaming my core. Plus, with my purchase I get another one, and a magna gopher! I’m in! Sidenote: What’s the extra one for? In case you drop your regular one? Gopher my Gopher, Gopher! Okay, I’m done. On to the next one.
2- The Ready Reacher I often drop things I can’t reach, voiceover lady. And, much like your (hopefully paid) actor, I will act like it’s the end of the world, also! I’ve got some wallslides for such occasions, but as I probably should hold off on sliding all willy nilly, the Ready Reacher may be a likely alternative, if I can’t get my three Gophers and a mule. Anthony Sullivan yells of the power of the “super sticky goo pad,” a phrase that I can’t mutter, yet alone yell, without giggling like a deranged kindergartener from Disney’s “Recess.” What this product has over the Gopher, I feel, is the stealth value. I won’t have to bedazzle it like the Gopher to match all of my good outfits, and it’s so tiny, I can slip it in my pocketbook until I’m good and darn ready to use it!
3- Easy Feet One of the things I’ve been lamenting is how laborious it is for me to touch my toes. Before I try, I have to make a list of why I need to now as opposed to doing it later, and sometimes, I just send my toes a postcard that says, “hey, y’all. let’s catch up sometime!” With Easy Feet, I can catch up with them WAY more often, bringing balance and harmony back to my body. On the outside, it looks like that foot thing that comes with the Body Snake, but as enthusiastic announcer lady says, it’s SO much more! It cleans the top and bottom of feet, between your toes, and provides a rejuvenating massage. I believe in Easy Feet’s power to change the way I bathe. The shot at the end, with the lady in the super luxe bubble bath, scrubbling away with her Easy Feet, may have given me an asmertack. Hey, body. Let’s focus on one ailment at a time, please.
4- Pajama Jeans This one’s been making its rounds for a while, so I’ll keep it short. I like comfort, but I also like to be ready to go at a moment’s notice. With all of the pain and heartache that goes behind dressing once, belts, snaps, and all, I feel that pajama jeans are the most logical next step to alleviating it. They work on 4 out of 5 models (hey, isn’t that like the dentist bit? What happened to the fifth person– nutella?). I can wear them while using my Pedi Pistol and be fully enlightened as an infomercial extremist. Seriously speaking: comfy material + stylish exterior = happy Beez. It’s not calculus.
Too bad I haven’t seen a Skymall catalog lately. I’m sure I could build a house from the comfort of my couch with something outta that.
I’ve been mighty appreciative of all the love sent my way, and though I realize the seriousness of an injury like this, I need this space to shed by brand of optimism on an otherwise quite sucky experience altogether. Thanks for laughing with (and at) me and my shenanigans time and time again, and now the question:
If any of your body parts were out of commission, and you had limited usage, what products could you use to regain daily function?
Love y’all like Jamba Juice loves to smell like orange pith.
(not too hard–I’m sensitive!) Hugs and Sprinkles, Beez
Turkeys, and cat-naps, and football – oh my! Where did the year go? It seems like just yesterday we were crowded around someone’s television watching the ball drop at Times Square, like we didn’t know it would take 3 hours for it to get all the way down. In a blink, spring, summer and fall passed us by, without even calling the morning after to see if we were okay. November is almost done, and through the icy rain (maybe just here), people are finalizing their Thanksgiving plans. Friends, the holiday season is fast approaching (Shoot, it’s HERE.), and I have been sent with gifts that aren’t gold teeth, frank and beans, and Maury in order to get you in tip-top shape:
1.Stay in your lane. Yes, I know it’s nice to try out new recipes every once in a while. I do it quite often myself. Those large family gatherings where mass amount of people are exposed to your science project is not the arena for it, though. If you’re unsure of what to bring to the 50th office potluck this week, stick to what you know. If you tell a friend you’re bringing “Candied Ham Squares with White Chocolate,” those tears are not from excitement; it’s fear. Bring some sausages in a Crock-Pot with barbeque sauce, or if you’re really fancy, volunteer to bring chips, ice, or plates. Become friends with AllRecipes in your off-time, and subject those people you love (in small batches) to your trials.
2.Accept your family. Just do it, I said! When you think of “Thanksgiving,” you think of “family.” When you think of “family,” you shouldn’t be thinking of Olive Garden, because you’ll be gravely disappointed. I turned 25 this week, and it seems that almost instantly, the cries of “when are you getting married/ having kids/ gonna do something with your life besides get all these degrees?” have come like wildfire. Suck it up, come up with concise, stern answers, and grin and bear it. Change the subject if necessary. Compliment Aunt BeBe’s new red ‘do, even though you know it’s a wig. Ignore Uncle Junior’s new girlfriend, even though you went to high school with her. You can’t change them, so you may as well grin and bear it. Just be ready to mediate when the great spades battle of the 3:00 hour come up, and know how to bow out gracefully when it’s time. That brings me to the next point…
3.Have an exit strategy. Just because it’s the holiday does NOT mean you have to spend the whole day with the fam. It took me the longest to realize this evident truth, but c’mon. When you visit home for a limited amount of time, you end up with having to do rounds. Staying 18 hours at TeeTee May’s only cuts into the time you have to stop by all of your friends’ and their moms’ houses to collect a cavalcade of plates. How else are you supposed to sustain yourself through this 4 day weekend? Besides, Thanksgiving evening is the best time to catch a movie, go bowling, or host an impromptu Wii party featuring Michael Jackson: The Experience (oh, that’s just me? Well, you’re invited anyway.). While everyone’s hopped up on tryptophan, grab your security Gladware, pack up some of that dressing, and tiptoe out like a thief in the night, on the the next house.
4.Be careful what you post online. The saying is true: “If you tweet it, they will roast.” Wait… that isn’t it? Either way, it’s true. If your dishes make your mom/grandma/significant other smile and say “Baby it looks good… what is it?” you probably shouldn’t twitpic it to the world. If your variations on certain meals include altering the natural color the dish comes in, keep it in your house and off the tweets. It will be roasted until crispy, and you probably will lose a bit of your #SelfofSteam. Just ask the girl who is known as the creator of #ThatPlate (Note: Zindzi did not make said plate).
With that said, friends, I hope that you all are having a wonderful Thanksgiving. Eat, drink, and share in old traditions while making new ones. Take the time to recognize the things and people you are thankful for. I hope your day is as awesome as all of you are. Now pass the peas, like we used to do.
Hey, y’all. I betchu think this post is about me. For once, I’m taking the shine off of my normal mode of shenanigans, catastrophes, and general unfortunate events, in favor of something more awesome.
Today, I would like to bring your attention to something I’ve (finally) found the words to get out. This is a big step for me, mostly because I’m vain and dislike the sound of my voice. I didn’t rehearse this, and kind of spoke as it came from the heart. Then again, this cause is bigger than me. And you. Your mama, and your cousin, too. No Outkast, though. Anyway, I’ll just cut to video, while you marvel at how I kinda look like the avatar in the upper right hand corner:
This is the challenge, wrapped conveniently as my birthday wish: I just want to encourage you all to do something, for someone, as this appropriately-dubbed “giving season” begins. The actions done from this point on could make the biggest difference in someone’s life. One little action could make a tiny tot decide to be a world changer. It could be that little push that helps a person choose life over death. It makes you feel all warm and fuzzy, and most importantly, empowers others to do the same.
I want to make a way for people to actually share what they’re doing. Short of creating another website (which, given my limited time and resources), I’m not really seeing how. Perhaps a hashtag on Twitter would work, but how long do those stay valid? I’m thinking out loud again… Let me stop and I’ll work the details out as they may. Besides, the idea is to give.
I’ll check in over the next two weeks to share some ideas, and hopefully hear from you about your ideas, actions, and ways you’re changing the world around you.
Go time… is now. Let’s Bee-Giving this season! I think the hashtag has been birthed: #BeeGiving. Nawl, you know what? I’ll keep working on it.
Still Working Out The Kinks (and not just the ones in my hair),
PS- For the record, you can still send me birthday gifts. I’m versatile. 🙂
This one’s pretty long, but stems from that SAME conversation… My goodness, we are pros at word/thought/idea association. We did reach an eye-opening revelation towards the end, though:
Renisha: OH MAH GAH!!!
me: I used to love me some Kel Mitchell.
Renisha: is that who’s rapping? i used to LOOOOVE me some ROMEO!
me: I couldn’t mess with him and that eye. Much like Musiq soulchild.
me: My friend used to collect all them posters from Word Up! Magazine. And when she got over her obsession, she sold them for a quarter. When you consider how much that mag cost. she was BANKING on them posters
Renisha: why they got they shirts open with a shirt AND a jacket on? EL DEE BEE didn’t get NO camera time
me: immature stayed dressing like some rebellious vagabonds. i used to forget el dee bee was part of the group
Renisha: they liked plaid
me: i feel like he was the ‘spare bish’ of the group, only to make a batman/romeo duo less awkward. he ain’t get no solos or NUFFIN.
Renisha: NOTHIN! not a rap or NO-THING!
me: he didn’t even get to DRUM! useless a*s name they gave him
me: they flooding HOARD dinner mug in this video! with no socks!! LMAOOOOO
me: I forgot this was when Romeo had that unfortunate perm. hurr just swanging
Renisha: and then the little dance breakdown they got on them WHITE socks
me: DEEZ NINJAS ON SOME MEN IN BLACK ISH!!
Renisha: chile…. YUP!
me: i. am. dying. Kel… swoon
Renisha: i can’t take this any longer omg…my side hurts!
me: I’m burning calories i ain’t even put in. now on to we got it: we don’t know what they got, doe. peek a boo v-necks. i cannot
Renisha: chile… these dance moves
me: how the band know the sheet music, doe? i never understood that in any video? you just show up relatively unknown, yet the band just knows what song you gon’ wanna sing?
Renisha: these outfits chile… YELLOW PANTS THO!?
me: i can’t with this MC lyte doppelganger… then the whole nursing home erupts in dance? o_O
Renisha: i am CRACKIN up!
me: it’s like this scene from good burger:
how they just all know the moves?
I’m so mad at the uploaders comment on this. The other comments, too! LMAOOOOOO!! **note, comments were found on the video posted here, but they didn’t wanna let me embed, so… *shrug* **
Renisha: h*ll nawl!
me: “Romeo had a d*mn bob”
Renisha: WHAT THEEE H*LL IS ROMEO SAYIN!???? HE DID #DOE!
me: Romeo was a real life Mushmouth from Fat Albert
Renisha: ERICA!!! I can barely type right now… how in ALL HELL did we like this??
me: LAWD!! I just… don ‘t know… We were seriously misguided as youths. El Dee Bee was looking all malnourished about the head. I’m gonna take a guess and say his perm didn’t take all the way
Renisha: RIGHT!!! so they just shaved his stuff off. ROMEO ain’t make NO SENSE during that verse. i can’t understand a word he is sayin
me: They didn’t stick no lacefront or anything on him!
Renisha: AT ALL
me: Just pushed him out there… “there ya go, baldy. Homies over h*es.” The song doesn’t make much sense. I just… don’t know what I”m grooving for. They stayed on somebody’s rooftop dancing though
Renisha: HOW…Erica? HOOOOWWW did we like this stuff?!!! this is TERRIBLE
me: Terribly horrible
Renisha: they couldn’t SING! no vocal skills at ALL!
me: And they weren’t even THAT CUTE! They were boys with press n curls! and sunglasses!
Renisha: NOT CUTE AT ALL!!!
me: like some project Beatles.
Renisha: but LOVED me some Romeo
me: And did anybody understand the reason behind the name change?
Renisha: they changed it to ‘Mature’ right? or wait… IMX or somethin like that… DMX?
me: “Mature,” Renisha? death
Renisha: chile…i dunno
With that said, the 90’s were indeed horribly awesome. Between subpar singing, oversized primary colored clothing, and El Dee Bee’s hatless head, these are the memories my youth is comprised of. This series… just might have to continue, though.
Part 2 on me and Renisha’s look back into the 90’s. Part 1 can be found here.
Renisha: crackin UP! remember when they got a new girl – NOT michelle
me: Yep… she lasted the duration of that video shoot. po’ thang
Renisha: a week! LOL!
me: did she get pregnant and voted off the island or something?
Renisha: chile…i don’t even remember. what was her name?
me: shoot… ahownno. spare bish?
Renisha: WeNeed AnotherChick
me: kelly and this gahtdamb blue hair. marge simpson swag
me: they thought they was hitting that plie at the end too… what the heck was that?!
me: michelle had on her “Lawd, don’t let me fall to the wayside and have to go back to the welfare” face. spare bish on the other side had her ‘shank beyonce face” high waisted pants + midriff baring shirts = fail
Let me just start off by saying this: If you didn’t grow up in or around the 90’s, you pretty much ain’t nothing. Millenials, you just missed out on everything that made the world turn: Nick, Snick, cheesy sitcoms with recycled characters, commercials that were relevant to the product being sold, REAL cartoons still in circulation… man, I could just go on and on, but the retrospective is bringing tears to my eyes. This all began with an epic gchat conversation between myself and Renisha, and oh my gosh, we just got to remmin… remun… thinking about old stuff. We begin with this gem:
Renisha:Why am i laughin SO HARD at this video?look at their clothes!
me: lawd!!! how they change clothes mid chorus?
Renisha: i am CRYIN laughin right nowLOL!
me: That bald dude with the glasses…
Renisha: LMBO!you see Immature in the video???
me: weighmint. DID I SEE IMMATURE?!!I was JUST about to say that!
Renisha:OMG!!!! This is tumblr worthy! gon’ head and post it
me: MUHFUGGIN BATMEHN. ROWMEYOWAND EL DEE BEE
me: LeToya and her thoia thoing dress on. I just can… and can’t with the 90’s. all at once.
Renisha: Kelly ain’t have NO BOOTEE!NONE!
me: Not n’aan aat all
Renisha: in them pleather pants!iCan’t!
me: was immature even old enough to be in the club just chillin like that?
Renisha: Was Destiny’s child!? shooo
me: random lone couple grinding in the dark hallway = death
Renisha:i am SO TICKLED right now My eyes are watering SO BAD, tryin not to laugh outloud in this starbucks
me: I would have failed.
me: Sometimes when the cackle comes thoo, you just gotta let it out
Renisha: watches it again
me: AAHHHH!! YOUSE A MESS!!LMAOII AWJ EWLKA BWTF BBQ!~
Renisha:why was latoya grindin on the wall by herself tho? and them brown knickerbockers that other chick was wearin?LAWD!! iCan’t!
me: Everything was right and wrong at the same time We watching the video saying no, no, no, no, no. But we saying yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, too.
me: Why didn’t nobody say “go home, roger!” though? NOBODY in that club took advantage of that golden opportunity?
they all had on the same colored lipstick #makeupartistfail
look at BeNONCE’s shoes?
me: and that dreadful lipliner
That was the era of “black girls lining their lips in black no matter what the occasion, season, or coordinating colors were.”
wedding = black lipliner
homecoming = black lipliner
me: funeral = black lipliner
birthday party = black lipliner
fashion shows= all black lipliner errthang
Renisha: going to class in college = black lipliner
me: nobody had sassy gay friends in the 90’s. i’m convinced
and that clear sticky gloss from the beauty supply, so yo’ whole lip was just grey and ashen.
Renisha: with the white stuff in corners
me: ughhh!! yes!!
We reviewed about 3 videos for this… and I think they will be separate posts. 🙂
What are some of your favorite memories from the 90’s?
It’s been a long time, I shouldn’t have left you. At least I’ve got a story to tell, boo. And boy, is it a doozy:
For those unfamiliar with my life, I’ve been EXTREMELY tired lately. I have, however, still been blogging a bit. Perhaps Tumbl-ing is a better verb, but I have been into some sort of activity. Anyway, my tumblr is mainly focused on my journey to girliness, where I take pictures of myself in dresses and stuff, gauge opinions on hair and makeup, and learn how to be more girly. In conversations and through some of my Twitter connections, I learned about a company that had gotten rave reviews about the style, fit, and even delivery. I was determined to learn more about this company.
After working for a bit, perhaps after my second paycheck, I registered with ASOS, and got to shopping. I was excited about my first spree- there were dresses, skirts, and a couple of tops. I won’t mention the amount spent, because frankly, that matters not. Placed my order on the 17th, and it shipped by the 19th. Their shipping schedule says 8 “working days,” but as the patient princess I am, I gave it until the end of the month. I made up excuses for them, thinking it could have been held up by customs, they couldn’t find me in the cornfields, or something. Either way, I penned a query to Customer Care, and recieved this response, after the canned response of “we have your question, now wait for an actual person to reply (click to make these bigger) :”
I decided to give them the benefit of a doubt (figuring Royal Mail must be as much of a pain as the USPS can be sometimes- see my last angry letter), and wait those extra days, even though my sh*t “should of” arrived by the 29th. On the day before, October 10th, I sent another email. It was a Sunday, and I was about sure the parcel wasn’t arriving. After the obligatory canned response, I got this:
I waited 24 hours, pretty much RIGHT after the clock struck 12 on the 12th to pen a new one, simply asking for what they would do next. Patience would win out, right? So, of course, I got the canned response, then this:
Aw… HAYLE NAWL!! I waited damb near a month to receive this package, and all you can say is “welp, here’s your money back?” Not even an offer to resend what I ordered in the first place, perhaps express shipping? Something to make me think you give a sh*t about keeping my money hostage for so long? I was trying to give them a chance, but this is not the way to do it. I stressed the fact that this was my FIRST ORDER for a reason- your first impression of a company is one that lasts. In the case of ASOS, this one burns, and not in that pleasant way they depict in contraceptive commercials. I wrote this in response:
I took to Twitter too. ASOS apparently searches its name, and I was ambushed by their “Here To Help” account, armed with smiley faces… I’ll just let you see their responses to me, and I’ll post my response to them (at this point, I was sufficiently pissed, and wanted nothing more but to speak with a person). Read down to up, as Twitter be backwards:
In the meantime, they provided me with this “generous offer,” via e-mail:
Ten. Frickin. Puhsents. Is that enough, friends? I don’t think so. A simple Google search leads me to a bajillionty ten percent offer codes. I’d rather have talked to a live person than a crappy email exchange over the course of several days, too. My excitement turned from disappointment to full-on-pisstivity during the duration of this experience, and I am making good on my promise to let the world know. Simply put, ASOS, Yuh Dun Goofed. I can’t and I won’t put my funds into a company that doesn’t even CARE about how customers are treated. It’s such a sad day when you can’t even get excited about the things others love, but this one experience has been… well, exquisitely torturous hell. I promise, I am waiting for that refund, and it better be correct down to the LAST penny. You lost a customer before you even had a chance to wow me with your stylistic offerings, at least I could have had a chance to try on a dress before I decided I hated you.
Shoutout to that package that’s probably floating in the ocean, chilling and stuff.
What I want to know, friends, is have you ever experienced crappy customer service, even in the face of unshakable patience? What did you do? How was it resolved? Should I give ASOS another chance to wow me with this measly ten percent?
Lawd, I’m pissed. Fawk a sprinkle. This is some bull-shiggity.