red, gold, and green

All of that excellent worrying, wasted.

I did call Expedia yesterday to see if I could use the credit. I had a direct flight to London Heathrow picked out for late April on Lufthansa that was well under my original ticket price, so I called up the special hotline for wieners with travel credit and tried to set everything in motion.

I failed, though. Apparently Expedia DOES check with the airline to see if the credit is valid, and Lufthansa came back saying I had already been issued a refund. There was something fucky going on with the site too, as my faux-credit showed a “must use” date of November 2020 when it had been showing as end of August 2021 up until the day I made the phone call. Alas, someone on Lufthansa’s end is maintaining that database of flight credits REALLY well, and as it turns out, I don’t actually have the credit that appears on my Expedia account.

No free trip for me. I think I confused the hell out of the poor woman at Expedia, because when she said I had been issued a refund, she swore up and down I would get it in the mail soon. I thanked her for her time and for checking for me, but I think she was waiting for me to flip out on her. I can’t imagine most people, when seeing they have a credit on their account, would just go away after being told it was in error, but .. well, I already received the refund (twice). I knew she was right, and I wasn’t going to try and push the issue any more than I already had. I mean, I picked up a PHONE and DIALLED a NUMBER and frankly that was enough social interaction for at least a week.

Definitely not the end of the world. I saw it through to a resolution, and while it wasn’t the ideal outcome*, I can’t be sad about it.

*: I’m pretending that the “ideal outcome” would have been a free trip, but let’s face it: had the credit actually worked, I’d just get shiny new anxiety about a thousand other things, up to and including imagining some sort of Final Destination scenario had I actually gotten on the plane. Frankly, this is for the best. I can book my own damn trip, with blackjack, and hookers. In fact, forget the trip.

Fingers crossed the world gets unfucked between now and September, because I really really REALLY want to go to New York.

last chance power drive

On Saturday night, I didn’t sleep. By the time I put my phone down and closed my eyes, the coughing had already started and instead of waking Ed up by tossing/turning/coughing/barfing all night, I went left the bed and hung out in the living room to do various internet things. I never did fall asleep, which made for an entertaining Sunday morning – I was exhausted, but couldn’t sit still long enough to drift off. Honestly, I kind of felt drunk. Everything was HILARIOUS, and I kept having great epiphanies that I needed to share with the world like that one time I was high (sorry mom) and totally deduced why Sting was the halftime show at the Superbowl.

At some point during the day, I decided I was going to listen to nothing but different versions of “Born to Run” by Bruce Springsteen. After an hour or so of this, I began to wonder if anyone ever made a Springsteen-themed porno called “Born to Cum”, because this is a really good idea that apparently no one has ever had – I couldn’t find anything called Born to Cum, but lots of stuff called “Porn in the USA”. Which, okay, I guess that works, but it just seems lazy.

When I was done with the porn, I started wondering if the girl being sung to was the same girl in Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin'” or Bon Jovi’s “Living on a Prayer”. They’re not – Springsteen sings about Wendy, whereas Bon Jovi is addressing Gina. The small town girl on the midnight train wasn’t identified by name in the song, so she could be anyone. Even you. Shine on, you street light people.

Ed wasn’t as impressed by my findings as I was, but I thought I had done some pretty good science and bemoaned the fact that no one ever appreciates my work. At this rate, I’ll never get a museum named after me. Life sucks.

.. I haven’t caught up on my sleep yet, so I’m still kind of amused by every exchange I had over the weekend. Also, I can’t stop listening to Born to Run. It’s my new favourite 39-year-old song. And out of all the covers I listened to, this one is my favourite but it kind of makes me sad because what a waste.

have some fish!

have some fish!


iphone + boobs = science

The iPhone 6 and 6+ launched today. While every website on the internet is abuzz with the new phones, Delicious Juice Dot Com is (probably) the only blog to bring you what you really want to know: how will the new devices fit inside your bra?

For Science, and because I neglected to do so when I upgraded from the 4s to a 5, here is how the iPhone 5s fits in my left bra cup (the default holding location when I don’t have pockets):

ed's iphone 5s in my bra. for science.

ed’s iphone 5s in my bra. for science.

It’s not a bad or uncomfortable fit, but it’s blocky with edges and is kinda like stuffing your bra with Lego. Still, this has been my standard for years now, and if you do anything long enough you forget what life was like before.

Behold the iPhone 6:

my phone, my bra.

my phone, my bra.

Oh, YES. THIS is a device I could happy shove into my tits any time of the day – it’s silky smooth, delightfully rounded, and fits like a flat expensive glove. It feels much like the iPhone 3GS did, and that was a lovely device to stuff in your cleavage. I enjoyed this experiment far more than I should have, actually. A++++++, would carry around in my bra again.

On the other hand:

tyson's phone, my bra.

tyson’s phone, my bra.

The 6+ in my bra is fucking ridiculous. I may as well shove my laptop in there. I have larger bras than the average bear on account of the universe having a delightful sense of humour, but even I couldn’t comfortably carry around a 6+ in there. This just looks silly (unlike the other pictures, which are obviously for educational purposes).

So there you have it – if you’re looking to get a new phone based on what will fit comfortably in your bra, I hope my experiments will help you.