Oops.
The spokesman added that the company recognised that there were some who viewed Banksy's work as legitimate art but that their graffiti removal teams were "staffed by professional cleaners not professional art critics".
[post title from AV Geeks recent show "Other People's Property"]
Friday, April 20, 2007
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
i've lost my faith in shipping
I've been burned by the world of shipping.
First, a package containing a lace scarf I knitted for my sister's birthday with my own widdle hands got lost. I shipped it USPS Priority Mail, and didn't get any sort of delivery confirmation, so it's pretty much lost in the great dark chasm of untrackable mail. Perhaps it's on the Island of Misfit Mail, or perhaps it was eaten on her doorstep by a vicious paper-and-wool-eating feral cat. We may never know, and I figured I'd learned my lesson about not paying the extra 50 cents for delivery confirmation.
Yesterday, a package containing a rather expensive coat I purchased on bluefly.com, in preparation for the move to Beantown, disappeared from my front porch. This time the shipper was DHL, and proved that even delivery confirmation doesn't prevent your package from being stolen off your freaking porch. I'm a bit pissed at the DHL delivery person for leaving a big ass package that says "Hello! I' m a big package from an online designer outlet!" on my front porch, as opposed to the much less visible back deck, but whatev. It's gone, and they don't have that coat in my size any more, and I have to wait "up to twelve days" for bluefly to conduct its investigation before I can get my $140 back.
I'm totally switching to Trystero.
First, a package containing a lace scarf I knitted for my sister's birthday with my own widdle hands got lost. I shipped it USPS Priority Mail, and didn't get any sort of delivery confirmation, so it's pretty much lost in the great dark chasm of untrackable mail. Perhaps it's on the Island of Misfit Mail, or perhaps it was eaten on her doorstep by a vicious paper-and-wool-eating feral cat. We may never know, and I figured I'd learned my lesson about not paying the extra 50 cents for delivery confirmation.
Yesterday, a package containing a rather expensive coat I purchased on bluefly.com, in preparation for the move to Beantown, disappeared from my front porch. This time the shipper was DHL, and proved that even delivery confirmation doesn't prevent your package from being stolen off your freaking porch. I'm a bit pissed at the DHL delivery person for leaving a big ass package that says "Hello! I' m a big package from an online designer outlet!" on my front porch, as opposed to the much less visible back deck, but whatev. It's gone, and they don't have that coat in my size any more, and I have to wait "up to twelve days" for bluefly to conduct its investigation before I can get my $140 back.
I'm totally switching to Trystero.
Monday, April 09, 2007
dear grandma: you are not being divorced
My grandmother - my dad's mom - has had dementia for several years. I'm not sure of the exact diagnosis (it's not Alzheimer's), but the symptoms are basically a progressive loss of memory. Two years ago, my grandfather died under somewhat mysterious circumstances: he died underneath his own car while my grandmother was still inside. He, of sound body and mind for his 80+ years, had taken care of her. She didn't have any memory at the time of what happened when he died, and she had a hard time remembering that he had died.
Over the next while, my grandmother would sometimes remember that my grandfather was dead, and sometimes wouldn't. She'd tell my dad, for example, she was mad at my grandfather for not being around for a couple of days. My dad gave her a call last night while Dick and I were at my folks house for Easter dinner. My grandmother was very upset, because, she told him, my grandfather had served her with divorce papers. That, she said, was why he hadn't been around lately.
My grandparents were totally devoted to each other, and it's amazing to me that while my grandmother can't remember that my grandfather died, she's constantly aware that he's missing. My poor dad doesn't know what to do - apparently they've stop reminding her that my grandfather is dead, because each time they tell her it's like she's getting the news for the first time (she is, in a way). I told my dad about this book I had heard about on NPR a while back, and he seemed interesting. Which is good, coming from the family that never admits to or seeks help for problems that are more emotional and mental than physical.
Over the next while, my grandmother would sometimes remember that my grandfather was dead, and sometimes wouldn't. She'd tell my dad, for example, she was mad at my grandfather for not being around for a couple of days. My dad gave her a call last night while Dick and I were at my folks house for Easter dinner. My grandmother was very upset, because, she told him, my grandfather had served her with divorce papers. That, she said, was why he hadn't been around lately.
My grandparents were totally devoted to each other, and it's amazing to me that while my grandmother can't remember that my grandfather died, she's constantly aware that he's missing. My poor dad doesn't know what to do - apparently they've stop reminding her that my grandfather is dead, because each time they tell her it's like she's getting the news for the first time (she is, in a way). I told my dad about this book I had heard about on NPR a while back, and he seemed interesting. Which is good, coming from the family that never admits to or seeks help for problems that are more emotional and mental than physical.
Friday, April 06, 2007
beantown, ho!
It's official: dickumbrage and I shall be moving to Boston, Taxachusetts at the end of this summer for me to attend the Master of Fine Arts program at the Massachusetts College of Art. A brief tour of Boston courtesy of Google image search:
See, you move to a big city, and you get shot.
Mr. Baseball Hype 2007, aka "Dice-K"
There are Boston baked beans, and then there are Boston Baked Beans.
Giant Christian Science HQ, including Pool for the Drowning of Nonbelievers, Monolithic Skyscraper of God, and tacky neo-neo-classical cathedral.
It turns out that a couple of folks we know from current or past connections to Southern Private University are also planning on moving to Boston about the same time, which is exciting, because now we can commiserate with someone about cold weather and a lack of collard greens in grocery store produce centers.
See, you move to a big city, and you get shot.
Mr. Baseball Hype 2007, aka "Dice-K"
There are Boston baked beans, and then there are Boston Baked Beans.
Giant Christian Science HQ, including Pool for the Drowning of Nonbelievers, Monolithic Skyscraper of God, and tacky neo-neo-classical cathedral.
It turns out that a couple of folks we know from current or past connections to Southern Private University are also planning on moving to Boston about the same time, which is exciting, because now we can commiserate with someone about cold weather and a lack of collard greens in grocery store produce centers.
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