elisel‘s package arrived today; this is the same girl who was kind enough last year to mail me a copy of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cassette tape, so that I might rock out to April’s Ballad and drive my neighbors out in the process. That package had a teenage mutant ninja turtle sticker on it–this girl apparently has a wealth of awesome 1980s stickers at her disposal. I’ve got some domokun stickers somewhere, but that’s about it. I need to start gluing HeroClix to things I send out in the mail.

Oh yes! My very own wizard hat! What were the odds that this would arrive on the same day as a box from Peter Pettigrew? Fortuitous, I tell you!

I cast Lvl. 3 Eroticism. I…turn into a real beautiful woman? Don’t fuck with me bitch, I’m the mightiest sorcerer of the lands. Robots are trying to drill my brain but my lightning shield inflicts DOA attack, leaving the robots as flaming piles of metal. King Arthur congratulates me for destroying Dr. Robotnik’s evil army of Robot Socialist Republics. The cold war ends. Reagan steals my accomplishments and makes like it was cause of him.

In other words, thank you, elisel!

…I think the apartment manager knows something is up.

Yesterday, I skated into the office just before it closed, Indiana Jones style, laid down my bag of sand, picked up my idol, and prepared to deal with the wrath of the natives. “Well, hello there, Goddess of Packages. You’ve got something from a Purveyor of Fine Cheeses, though it seems awfully light for cheese.” “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer not to talk about the role cheese plays in my life. It’s a sensitive subject.”

All week long, bellachiara6 had been asking if I’d received her package yet, much in the same way excited children question their parents from the backseat of an automobile, “Has my package arrived yet? Has my package arrived yet? HAS MY PACKAGE ARRIVED YET?” and I would respond in much the same manner as I did when I was two and locked myself in the bathroom, and my mother repeatedly asked if I was done in there–“Noooooot yeeeeeeeeet.” You have no idea how much it killed me to have this package sitting in my room and not being able to open it because I needed to charge my camera battery. I would fail as a boy scout at always being prepared…but then again, I also fail at being a boy, and then there’s the whole not believing in god thing, and thinking that gay people are swell…the boy scouts can go fuck themselves. OH WAIT, THEIR TROOP LEADERS TAKE CARE OF THAT FOR THEM.

Hello, Nicki!

To repeat the text message I sent to Nicki, ‘That is the best fucking grocery bag I’ve ever seen. Ever.’ It’s so awesome, I want to keep it, and it’s a GODDAMNED GROCERY BAG.  But what was inside the bag? She mailed me a CEPHALOPOD!

What’s more, she instructed me to…amuse myself with it. So my first act of amusement was to wear it as a hat. My second act of amusement was to have Napoleon wear it as a hat. My third act of amusement was to re-create my LJ icon in plush and paper.

My FOURTH act of amusement, as soon as I find a dark-haired Barbie-ish doll, will be decidedly more amusing. Stay tuned for that one!

Yesterday I came home to a note on the door from the hardworking folks at Fed-Ex, AND one in the mailbox from the not-so-hardworking folks of the US Postal Service stating that I had packages in the office. JOY.

I walked in to find THREE waiting for me. The office beeotch said as I walked in the door “Package queen, you’ve got more packages AGAIN today.”

….

(wait for it…)

….

:shrug: “…The spice must flow.”

An eyebrow shot up, its owner possibly contemplating the ‘drugstore.com’ box. “Well….whatever. One of them sounds broken.”

What is she doing? Shaking packages like it’s nearly Christmas? Because, frankly, that’s exactly what I did, and when I opened the package, this is the note I discovered, to my great delight: What was in the box? Small things that made very strange sounds, indeed! As you can see, Napoleon was extremely interested in the contents, because anything that comes into the house actually belongs to HIM unless he deigns to allow other people to have it.

Thank you, faerieburst! The teeny skulls have taken up residence in the pirate bathroom, and I imagine that the binder clips will come in handy when kids come by to trick-or-treat–the dog will be binder-clipped to the couch and thusly save me a costly lawsuit! Also, I will likely check out bookmooch, which would be way more awesome if I could actually part with books.

The large package on the bottom was from my dad, who generally supports my foolish endeavors, especially when they involve (harmlessly) fucking with someone for a laugh–so now you know where I get oftentimes cruel yet awesome sense of humor from. This is a man whom I VERY fondly recall laughing at a woman in church for having a rear end so enormous that the row of buttons traveling down the back of her dress actually lay horizontal. Not telling her so and making her feel bad, of course, because that’s not how we roll, but struggling with laughter so hard that tears rolled out onto his cheeks. In church.

Yes. We’re going to hell.

He sent me some shoes! True, I took ballet for about a week when I was 6; I quit because I wasn’t good at it right away. What’s the lesson here? Never try. The point is that now I can PRETEND to be a pretty pretty pirate ballerina. The fact that they make…unfortunate noises when I walk is of no consequence.

The other package, the one from drugstore.com? That’s for my Halloween costume–a box of latex gloves. What am I doing with an entire box of latex gloves? Oh, wouldn’t you like to know! Patience, kids. 10 more days and all will be revealed.