postal

so i would say about a coupla years ago, my parents started gifting my husband the "beer of the month" club for christmas and his birthday. it's genius really, because he loves weird beer and this company sets up to deliver a variety twelve pack of weird beer to our doorstep every month. (lets you try weird beer until your little heart is content.) he loves it because he isn't getting, like...socks or something stupid. my parents love it because all they have to do is click a mouse and warren is set for both his birthday and the birth of jesus. (i told you, it's genius.) so anyway, the first couple deliveries went off without a hitch...cause we were home. then we had an instance where we weren't home and the UPS guy left us a little love note letting us know that we would have to sign for the package and show ID, because we had to be 21 to receive alcohol via his delivery truck. just so happened we weren't home during his second attempt, or his third...so they then sent the package to a post office mecca where undeliverable packages go to die. it turns out this place was closer to where i work, rather than where warren works...so i was designated as the beer fairy to pick up his godforsaken package. it wasn't like a huge deal or anything, but it was (in fact) a pain in the dick. i had to leave work early to get there so that i could also get to the sitter to get my kids on time. it wasn't in the best of neighborhoods either, and i really didn't want to get jumped over a box of beer. that being said, it wasn't what one would call an ideal situation.

so the next couple of deliveries after that occurred without any problems, because we happened to be home. then some months after that we had a similar situation of getting more love notes telling us they were going to send our package to the pain in the dick building where i would have to pick it up. however, the day of the third attempt i happened to be in the shower and i heard a knock at the door. normally if one of our friends is popping over, they never knock. they just blow in the door and our dog two paw punches them in the private parts. (this really happens.) so anyway, i was elbows deep in shampoo when i heard this knock. i realized that it could be the beer guy on his final attempt to deliver the weird beer. (shiiiiiiiiittttt.) so i quickly shut off the shower, grabbed a towel and ran down the steps wrapped up like i was in a head and shoulders commercial. i pulled the door open and said, "sorry! i was in the shower, but didn't want to miss you and then have you send this beer back to the weird building i had to go to a few months ago!" (i was speaking in exclamation points.) he looked startled...and then smiled. he stuck out his hand as if he was going to shake my hand. he did this because...he was going to shake my hand. i reluctantly held up my towel with my left hand and reached out with my right to shake his hand. (thank god there wasn't a slight breeze or everyone on my street would've seen my beaver.) he said, "hi, my name is ned and i actually live across the street from you. just so happens this is also my UPS route." holy hell. i'm meeting my neighbor for the first time...and i'm wearing a goddamn towel!? (this is not good.) i replied with, "well this is awkward, but nice to meet you, ned." he smiled, held out his handy dandy pad and said, "sign here."

then i went on talking...i mean, i was feeling ballsy at this point because i was standing there straight out of the shower, wrapped in a towel like it was no big deal. so i said, "since this is your route and you are our neighbor, is there any way you could just sign for the beer and leave it on the porch whether we are home or not? i would really appreciate it. it's such a pain in the dick to go to that creepy warehouse." he laughed his head off and said, "sure i can do that...no big deal." so for about a year, this is what would happen. if we weren't home, ned would just sign my name, he'd leave the weird beer 12 pack...and all was well in the world. i'd wave at him if i saw him later on in the street, but that was about it. so flash forward to this week and again we started on monday with the little UPS love note stating that they could not deliver the package to our address without a 21 year old signature. (wtf, ned!?) so we got one monday, one tuesday, and then i realized something...ned had moved. he moved about a month ago. therefore, ned was no longer our delivery guy. (noooo!) i decided to take matters into my own hands. i knew damn well that if that delivery guy showed up on wednesday and it was his "third attempt" he would leave a little letter telling me to head straight to the warehouse to sign for the weird beer. the last thing i needed this week was another pain in the private parts. (trust me.) i've been busier than a ballsack in a brothel and i don't know my head from my asshole at this point. running around like a chicken with my head cut off is a severe understatement...so this is what i did:

i was making my morning coffee wednesday and i thought, "well i can't accidentally answer the door in a towel and make friends with ned's stand in...so what other options do i have?" writing is one of my strong suits (shocking, i know)...so i thought i would compose a little love letter of my own to the man in brown. i whipped out a piece of looseleaf and went to town...this is what i came up with:

dear UPS guy,
i am aware you have tried to deliver a package here the past two days. today i'm asking you to please leave it if you can. i assure you i am not under 21 and the only people that live in this house that are under 21 are a 2 and a 4 year old (hence all the strollers and shit you see on the porch)...they are, though, the reason we drink in the first place. please leave the beer.
warm regards,
the woman of the house (age 32)

i could've mentioned how my 2 year old was up since 4:34am that morning, cause she wanted to get a jump start on her day. i could've mentioned that i had to take a dump with an audience the night before, because butch has now taken up "lifting" once a week and my kids barged in the bathroom. i could've said so many other things in that letter...including that i didn't want another pain in the dick this week and going to that warehouse would be number 234 in the dick pain count. (i didn't say all of this, but i could've.) instead i taped it to the door, strapped the 2 and the 4 year old i call my offspring into the car and headed off to drop them at the sitter and go onto work. the day went by (as it usually does) in a blur and i totally forgot about the note. i actually didn't think about it one time, until i was on my way home and my mother called me. we were talking about other stuff and then i said, "by the way! the delivery guy wouldn't leave the beer on the porch so i left him a note!" i then told her the contents of this note and she laughed like a loon. laugh away, mother, because lo and behold...as i pulled into the driveway i realized something glorious had happened. at first i just noticed my looseleaf flapping in the breeze, but then i looked down and saw quickly that he...LEFT THE BEER. (my note worked...here's to small victories.) here's a visual:

winner, winner, weird beer for dinner. all is well in the world...and i don't know what is going to happen next month, but this month? i win. however, if i have to go back to that warehouse someone is going to have hell to pay. i may take "going postal" to a whole new level. the headlines would read, "deranged mother of two toddlers goes apeshit at post office mecca over a box of beer." so if you see that in the news next month...you will already know it was me. one more thing...if you are looking for a genius gift for a loved one this upcoming christmas: remember that nothing says, "happy birthday, jesus" better than a box of weird beer. just please don't call me to write a love letter the man in brown when they give you a song and dance upon delivery, because i certainly don't need another pain in the dick to add to my plate.