I was going to tell you the story today of how and why Elsie asked me to check and see if she'd wet her pants.
I'm not telling you that story. I'm saving that one for the book.
Instead, something almost as hilarious, and twice as teeth nashingly fun happened this afternoon. Best of all, Skippy, after it was all over, acknowledged my blog.
Skippy does not have a credit card. It isn't often hubby and I consider ourselves smart, but not giving our kids credit cards in an age where you can buy anything...ANYTHING online without any one's knowledge ranks right up there. Unfortunately for Skippy, this means that every time he wants to buy concert tickets to some musical ensemble made up of underfed white kids who all need a sandwich and hug, I have to be asked, begged, to buy them.
Oh yeah, and I've learned...get the cash up front.
Today I got home and Skippy told me he wanted to see a band at a place in Chicago. I was stunned to get that much information. Chicago. Wow....he'd finally opened up to me about his life. (Sad thing is...I'm being completely serious here.) So we went through the usual routine: he emailed me a link, I followed the link, bought the tickets and continued work on my new novel which, I am convinced, will be the one that breaks me free of my indentured servitude to Dunder Mifflin.
Well, if it had worked out like that, I wouldn't be blogging, would I?
This ticket site was new. I rarely recognize the band names and I almost never recognize the venue names. But there aren't that many websites that sell tickets to concerts involving bands whose audiences still include their parents. This was a new website.
No matter. Debit card in hand, I sat down for what should have been a five minute process. Concert, ticket, click, buy.
"But I want two tickets."
Okay, concert, tickets, two, update cart, buy.
"Wait, now you're buying three tickets."
Weird. okay, update cart...
"Now you're buying five."
I try the "edit cart" button on the site. That gives me nothing. Fine. We'll start from the beginning.
Email, link, concert, tickets, cart, buy.
"Mom, you have seven tickets in your cart."
I try to back up and start over...I manage to add another ticket to the cart. At this point I inform Skippy that he's to go to his computer and buy the darn things.
"I can't, my printer doesn't work."
"Then have them mail you actual tickets."
"But that will cost a dollar more."
Oh, he's so frugal...
So I give it one more go. And I wind up with 10 tickets in my cart. And, trying again to empty my online cart and start over, I'm informed there are no more tickets available for this event.
"Awesome..." says the boy. "You've sucked up all the tickets available. Guess it's a private party for me and my friend."
(And the saddest part is that having claimed 10 of these tickets, I still hadn't accumulated a bill as big as the last time I bought a pair of tickets to see Rick Springfield. Guess if you want to see someone who has eaten this week, and doesn't ask the audience to collect beer and gas money for them, you have to pay a little more.)
"GO TO YOUR COMPUTER AND BUY THESE TICKETS."
Four minutes later, I get this text: "I win."
Elapsed time: 40 minutes. My total time available to write: 50 minutes.
Skippy says, "At least now you have something to blog about."
Awwww...he does care!
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