Fluevog Likes to Discuss My Toe Box

Ordering shoes from Fluevog is very amusing.  I have a gorgeous pair of high-heeled red-and-black Fluevogs that were purchased off of Zappos, and a pair of mid-calf lace-up boots that I got at a little shoe store in Harvard Square.  They were the only pair and I settled for a size too small.  I've never regretted that purchase.  The red ones are much harder on my feet--too narrow.  This is all to say I have never directly dealt with Fluevog until now.  Yes, I splurged all over myself and bought two pairs of Fluevogs.  Oh, man, was it naughty.  I had some serious cleaning  up today after clicking those buttons and entering my credit card number.

Here are my beauties that are just dying to get on my feet.

Fluevog is very into itself, and writes cute, cheeky things that purport to be just for me, to flatter and charm me into buying more expensive shoes.  Which I so want to do!  Like these here--someone, please, pretty please, get me these boots!

Here are some choice sentences from the two emails I have received since yesterday:

"Please allow 2 weeks from the order date for North American delivery (we know sometimes that feels like a long time... think of it in terms of the history of the universe)."

"Thanks again - you've got great taste... (especially you ;)"

 "Your Fluevogs can't wait to meet you..."

"If you have any quizzical questions, additional additions, or ch-ch-changes, please contact that store directly (contact details below) and one of its highly trained Fluevogologists will give you the quickest and best service possible."

And the best one of them all, "It should be noted that when your order came in earlier, a few of us sat around at break and talked about how awesome your taste and decision-making ability was. We hope you had a wonderful time on the site, we enjoyed cyber-hanging out with you."

Yes, indeed, it was definitely fun hanging out with all of you online, and talking about me in such flattering ways.  Thank you, all for almost $500!  More than half my paycheck on shoes.  That used to be tattoos, and now it is dresses and shoes.  What has come over me.

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Twit is officially on maternity leave as of today.  It was mostly gloriously quiet until Ex-cop and Ex-cop Lackey were faced with the daunting task of creating their own spreadsheet.  Here is a conversation that took place within a span of three minutes with Ex-cop in his office, and Ex-cop Lackey going between Ex-cop's office and my desk.


ECL: How do you change the font on a spreadsheet?
Me: Excuse me? (Standard response when someone suddenly approaches my desk and shoots a question at me--I will always pretend I have no idea what he/he is talking about, because I am cruel.)
ECL: You know, change the font on a spreadsheet?
Me: The font for the whole spreadsheet or just a cell?
ECL: Whole thing! (Excitable gerbil, watch out!)
Me: [Explain and demonstrate on my own computer]

                10 seconds later

ECL: How do you put numbers next to the stuff?
Me: Excuse me?  (Ha ha ha.)
ECL: You know, numbers over here.  He (being Ex-cop) wants numbers down the side there on the left.
Me: Insert a column, type in 1, 2 and 3 to make a series and drag down to the bottom row.
ECL: And it will be there forever?  Automatically numbering it?
Me: (Holding back a snort) No, you would have to drag it out more (why go in to automatic inserting with these guys?).

               2 minutes later

ECL: How'd you get those numbers in there? (He asks it in a way that would suggest that I just had fairies flying out of my vagina.)
Me: Excuse me? (Seriously meaning it this time.)
ECL: How. Did. You. Get. Those. Numbers. To. Appear?
Me: I typed, 1, 2 and 3.  (I said this in a way that suggested grey matter was flowing out of his ears).
ECL: ...........
Me: I typed a 1, then went down and typed a 2, and then typed a 3, which creates a recognizable series for the program, then I selected all three and dragged them down until I got bored (around 91, I believe).
ECL: Okay, thanks!
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A special complaint letter I sent to my grocery store yesterday after all that raging I did on the blog (I just had so much more to get out, I guess):

Hi.

Generally I enjoy shopping at [redacted]--great assortment of food (except for when it disappears like the Morning Star veggie dogs) and excellent 1980's college rock (seriously, my day is always made when I hear Echo & the Bunnymen while browsing through the produce). 

However, I find it really puzzling why [redacted] is now trying to brain those of us with an affinity for generic sparkling water.  Why exactly would a 10lb box be stacked 3 boxes high on the top shelf?  Does the staff like to snicker while watching people under 5'10" wrangle with  these boxes?  Should I be climbing the shelves to get up there and then just toss them down in to my cart hoping I don't accidentally wing a small child since my aim is not so good.  Or should I try, like I did in February, and kind of topple the boxes straight on to my face? That was fun.  Luckily I was not injured (just some pride and a really red temple).  That was obviously my own stupid fault for trying to accomplish something a 5'3" person could not possibly achieve.  When the boxes are stacked 3 high, it is well over 6'5" in height (I know, because my 6'1" friend had to reach over his own head to pluck off the box on the 3rd story of boxes).

Odds are that you are going to tell me to get a clerk's assistance if I would like some [redacted] sparkling water.  Which would be an amusing experiment in a) how long does it take to find a clerk, b) watching how the clerk also cannot safely get a box down either, and c) how long would it take to get a lift-ladder out to just get a box of water that was heretofore stored on the BOTTOM shelf where the 10lb boxes of water belong.

Wouldn't it be better for all of us if the water was stored on the bottom shelf again, right there next to the La Croix? Or do only name-brand buyers deserve the privilege of avoiding facial fractures?

Sincerely,

A Thirsty Grumples