Bastard Amazon

Some weeks ago, I order my mother’s christmas presents, and amazon assured me that I’d have them in time for christmas.

They lied, and I am faced with trying to buy my mother something at the airport tomorrow. This is the second time they have fucked me royally at the festive season.

I am not the only one they have done this to. They’ve shafted my colleague, too. And he’s provided a bit of help for anyone else that might be in the same boat. Do us both a favour, and pass the link around kids.

(And in all seriousness, if anyone knows anyone that works at Amazon, and would be willing to put this in front of them in a serious spirit of “we’d like to talk to someone about the standard of service you provide”, then please, do let me know…)

Links For Monday 12th December 2005

This entry was originally published at my workblog.

Before I forget:

I’ve half written several LJ entries and ditched them over the last few weeks, trying to do my usual annual job of working out where my head is at after another year. And today, on the tube home, I read the best summation I can think of of why I have:

“I think it’s time for me to ditch all that surface dialogue stuff and have a dark night of the soul instead. I resolve to write down what I really think and feel. Work out in words what it is to be me and once that is done my works that detail the deeply personal will illuminate the universal. But now that I’ve tried to think about what I really think I realise that not only will nobody else give a toss about what I think or feel, but I don’t give a fuck either.

We get tired. We get down. We get happy. We get hungry. We want love. We want to feel good about ourselves. We want to think that there is more than there is. We want to make the world a better place. We want to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony.” – Bill Drummond, The Wild Highway

Anguish!

I was at the whisky society with burge tonight. She drank this whisky. It was fucking fantastic, and I wanted some. I especially wanted some for myself, because I think it would have gone fucking brilliantly with a good cigar.

They’re sold out.

I’m going to crawl into a corner and cry, now.

(Anyone fancy drinking a few good whiskies in the next week or two?)