Complete seven-season forty-disc DVD box set for $200 to street Nov. 15th.

Best Buy has it for $180.

But Amazon.com — proving the internet shopping warehouse to be the true “best buy” — has it for $140.

I returned Disc 2, 3, and 4 of the first season of The Wire on Sunday. Stuck ‘em in the mailbox, I mean. Here it is Wednesday, and not a single disc has been marked as “recieved” by Netflix.

What.

The.

Fuck?

I work with this kid Alex. He’s not a kid, he’s probably my age. Anyway, I work with this kid Alex. (At the franchise). Last week, Saturday, he called me up out of the blue wanting to know if I could cover his late shift the following Saturday. I told him I’d have to check my schedule at the Indy shop for a conflict before I knew for sure.

Sunday we were both working, and for five minutes I was subjected to, “When will you find out? Call now to find your schedule. I need to know. When will you find out?” at which point I was forced to explain to him — yet again — that the Indy shop is closed on Sundays, so I could call to my heart’s desire, but still wouldn’t find out what he needed to know.

So he instantly said, “Okay, so you’ll check first thing Monday morning, right?”

Well, no, because I wasn’t working Monday. What I was doing Monday morning was getting my Oxygen sensors replaced. Oh, did I mention also that my check engine lights came on yesterday? I’m hoping they just forgot to plug the sensors in because really? This is getting effin’ ridiculous.

Anyway, so Alex is all, “Check on Monday! Check on Monday!”

“No, because if I call up they’re going to give me shit, they won’t tell me my schedule so I’ll have to go in to look at it, then they’ll make me work. It’s my day off. I’m not calling them, I’m not going in. I’ll check it on Tuesday.”

“No, you need to check it tomorrow, I need to know if I need to find someone else to cover my shift.”

!@&%$#!

“Then find someone else to cover your shift. I’ll do it if I can, but working twelve hours on Saturday isn’t my idea of fun. I don’t mind doing it for you if I can, but I’m not going to be heartbroken if I can’t. I’m not going to be upset if you can find someone else to work it, but if you want to know if I can do it, you’re going to have to wait until Tuesday.”

This finally shut him up.

Checking my schedule yesterday afternoon I found that I could, indeed, cover the shift for him, so I called the Franchise and had the schedule changed.

I don’t know why he couldn’t just take a simple “Wait until Tuesday” for an answer. I really didn’t need him screamin’ in my ear like that, y’know? Frustrating! And to the point of making me change my mind, “Nah, I ain’t coverin’ it for you because I don’t need this harassment!”

Whatever.

This post really isn’t about the Happy Hour. The Happy Hour was fun — I got there an hour and a half early and eavesdropped on other people’s conversations until Fool showed up. In short order, Broadsheet, Jennetic, ACW & ACWF, Common Wombat & Shmausie, Jason Thomas, Zenchick and Cara and Tracy arrived. The Happy Hour was, as always, much fun. The staff at Red Fish was excellent.

After the crowd had begun to thin, a few of us decided to walk to Epiphany’s place of employment. You might remember that Epiphany was co-hosting the happy hour, then “forgot” to request off from work. Zenchick was all, “Let’s march down there and chant his name until he comes out!” Instead we marched down there — two blocks, Epiph’s blog said, or as Jason remarked later, “Two blocks seven times!” — and settled ourselves into the chairs and had some really effin’ good desert. Finally, Epiph had to kick us out, “Please don’t make me get out the shotgun” so we mosied on to a bar (specializing in ale) a few blocks down to wait for Epiph.

The bartender – a hottie in her mid twenties – asked us if we were interested in anything to drink and passed out a drink menu. I excused myself and went to the bathroom. She was waiting for me, held out her hand, and identified me by my full name.

Turns out we’d gone to high school together. She’d recognized me and asked Fool for my name so she could place where she knew me.

I just now flipped through my yearbook looking for her photo — I would never ever have recognized her if she hadn’t introduced herself. She was very much a hottie in high school, it’s just that her hair wasn’t always styled as it was tonight. Plus, she wasn’t always a blonde.

(In our brief conversation because — well, – she was working? — I used “chefiness” as a word)

I don’t think we were neccessarily friends – maybe we had a class or two together, but I think we had friends in common. Gah, I never thought the day would come when I was actually trying to relive my high school years, but here it is. She seems to have done well in life, or at least, better than I have (or at least no worse). Gah, I can never stop judging myself. Stop, stop!

Anyway, it was really nice bumping into her like that. I’m really amazed that she remembered me. Here’s to coincidence …

… and with that, I’m off to bed!

UPDATE:

Epiph’s got a post about the bartender, too.