I just peed my pants laughing at this piece by Valleywag’s Sam Biddle, chronicling his year in Amazon purchases (he loses iPhone cables and combination locks a lot).*
*Sure, I peed my pants LAUGHING. Metaphorically. That’s the ticket. Not because I am now 9 months pregnant and just pee indiscriminately all day long.
Like Biddle, I, too, have an Amazon Prime membership. I shouldn’t. I know this. Amazon is a bad company that treats its workers horribly, and I am, in turn, a bad person for giving it so much money. It is bad. I am bad. However, I also live in St. Louis, and as such the only places that sell the things that I want or need to buy are (multi)national chain stores that are just as bad as Amazon (Target, for example, which also treats its workers abhorrently), with the added “bonus” that I get to burn a bunch of gas driving to them. (Yes, I know, gas is soooooo cheeeeap right now, it’s like the 1996 of gas prices. Great. Definitely buy that SUV and forget all about fighting for better public transit and/or pedestrian and bicycle treatment in your area. It’s all fixed.)
All’s I’m saying is that for about a month when my husband first moved here, I tried as hard as fuck to buy local and used, and it ended up with my husband using a ThermaRest and two pillows in the living room as a “couch” (next to seven cardboard boxes as “shelves”) for like three years, and his only piece of household cleaning equipment was a $40 broom made by Ugandan schoolchildren from renewable resources that did not work as a broom at all. We still do buy a good amount of our stuff at one of the thrift stores down the street (and, before the impending baby, we tried to just limit the acquisition of stuff in general, as it makes me really anxious to have too much stuff — now with the little fucker on the way all bets are off, and the whole apartment is packed with teeny tiny things), but yes, I realize that by doing what I did viz. Amazon in 2014 I made the world a substantially worse place in all possible aspects. SO LET’S SELF-REFLECT, SHALL WE? Here, Biddle-style, is the complete list of things I two-day-shipped in 2014, reviewed. Have mercy on my soul.**
**Keep in mind that I buy things pretty much nowhere else. This is, more or less, the entirety of my purchases in 2014, insgesamt. Does that make it better? I don’t know.
JANUARYTights with no waistband seem like a good idea at the time, but then when you’re halfway through your third class of the day and you can feel your butt crack hanging out of your tights, but you obviously can’t adjust it in front of your coterie of skeptical 18-year-olds, you come to regret this choice. Plus these were like $36. B-
After losing every single cute glove I have ever owned, I came up with the theory that ugly gloves are easier to keep track of. It’s been a year and I still have these, and they are not only ugly as fuck–they look like a Christmas sweater that OD’d on candy–they are also falling apart. Also, the winter here hasn’t been cold enough to need gloves yet. A++ for irony.
This actually starts kind of sad rather than funny, so skip it if you don’t want to be sad. This is the first set of maternity wear I bought after my first pregnancy “made it” to 10 weeks. It turns out I had a miscarriage that was just hanging out in there, and for several months after this stuff arrived I kept it stuffed in the closet where I couldn’t see it. BUT, I ended up getting pregnant again right away, and I now wear those expensive-ass pants and that belly band literally every single day. I seriously do not know what I would have done without these expensive-ass pants. Yes, they were like $70, but at this point they are verging on twelve cents per wearing. They have fit all through pregnancy and they have held up without pilling or wearing out, despite being worn LITERALLY every day and every night. C- January-May; A+ May thereafter.
FEBRUARY Yep, we bought a case of artisanal ginger ale that regularly runs about $8 per four-pack. I regret nothing. A. Oh shit, I really need to replace the goddamned water pitcher filter if this is the last time I bought one. Jesus Christ. F-, but I am grading myself and my lax water-filterage. This list details only physical purchases, so the 9 billion Kindle books I bought aren’t showing up. Ergo, it appears that the only books I read in 2014 were the goddamned Chicago Manual of Style… (D-, the worst; I ended up paying a grad student to edit my book for me instead of putting myself through the trauma of this book)…and my dissertation adviser’s book (A++).
MARCH Yes, I take almost all of my supplements in candy form. Got a problem with that? These are still gross, though. I can’t wait until I can stop taking them. B-
To cheer myself up after the miscarriage, I finally converted our second bedroom (which at the time was basically just a junk repository with a mini foam mattress on the floor) into the home office of my dreams. The extremely manly leopard print chaise is now in the living room, though, because we’ve since then put an actual bed in (and I am curled up on it right now, LIVING IT UP, wheeee). The chaise was cheap but it’s really uncomfortable. But it looks fun in the living room now. The shelves and table are complete pieces of shit but they do the job. B’s all around.
MAY Buying TP on Amazon was kind of a rock-bottom self-aware joke on my part. OH AND ALSO I’M PREGNANT AGAIN HOORAY. You will see that from this point on my purchases escalate (along with my weight). B
Oooh look a drying rack, I’m no longer sticking my brassieres in the dryer to fend for themselves, Izzy Mandelbaum style. Also I hate to say it but that ridiculously overpriced curly-hair “refresher” works fantastic and smells great. A.
Shit continues to get real: I can’t reach the high shelf of my closet anymore. A- …I no longer fit into my regular shoes, and just the thought of “cute shoes” makes my calves and backs scream in agony. A frumpy, Danish A++. …I begin to wake everyone in the house up with what has been described as my “thunderous night-breathing.” I’m so sick of wearing these fucking things at this point; they are killing the skin on my nose. B.
Oh god my ass. My huge, huge, huge ass that is now wearing “plus-sized” granny pantiez. B.
It took us 3 years to get an actual bed that wasn’t a mattress on the floor, and another 3 to stop using a folding chair (him) and 3 square feet on the carpet (me) as “end tables.” These are total pieces of shit but they’re fine. B.
The realness continues, but I have to return this because it is TOO SMALL. Not in the boob part, but in the band part, as my ribcage has now expanded beyond the bra band size I have had since the age of 15. (In case anyone is curious, which you shouldn’t be, you pervs, when not knocked up I usually wear a B- or C-cup.) Rated DD for the cup size.
I’ve got this motherfucker on RIGHT NOW. It fits great. It’s frumpy as all hell but this is the most comfortable brassiere ever made. A+.…aaaand I‘m anemic. Alas, they don’t make chelated iron gummies. But that doesn’t stop these fucking capsules from GUMMING up the works, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. Meanwhile, even though I hop myself up on iron every goddamned day (I even force down a few mouthfuls of fucking beef jerky to get some heme iron, which is hell on earth for me; I hate beef), I barely feel not-anemic anymore. My fingernail beds are still blue, and I still look like Gareth from the office. I guess I should be proud that I’m not craving dirt anymore? I don’t know. The babby, she is sucking out all of my iron and my will to live. C.
NOVEMBER, in which all I do is buy things.
I have begun treating this humidifier as if it’s fully animate, and, along with my hot water bottle, often refer to it as “my buddy.” Instances of squeaky eye down approximately 100%. A+.
German “iron tonic” from the 1850s (or at least tastes and looks like it). Sort of works. Mostly doesn’t. Tastes like Multivitaminsaft that’s been left on the counter for 25 Jahre. C+.
PROBIES! The cure for (almost) all that ails. I’d tell you I limited these to oral consumption BUT I’D BE LYING. Oh yeah. That’s right. I shove these up my vajay. It’s good for you; deal with it. A+.
Pancake consumption chez Schuman up approx. 1000%. A++++
…and thus begins the final countdown to babby Treat Yo Self mania. TREAT. YO. SELF. Slippies. Yessss. Yes. A++.
“I’m going to get this wedge pillow and then I’ll be able to sleep on my back!!!!” *head is 15 feet above bed; am still dizzy and queasy.* Now I use it as a backrest in the second bedroom, and as a backrest it’s marginally OK. B-.
We used either a moldering dish towel or NOTHING under the dish drain for SEVEN GODDAMNED YEARS. This babby is turning us into adult humans, finally.
DECEMBER, in which I decide that once the babby comes I will never be able to buy anything for myself again, so I have no choice but to hit Treat Yo Self Factor Full Haverford-Meagle.
$120 Luxus-Muppet robe, like being hugged constantly by Cookie Monster after he loses a fight with a Costco-sized vat of fabric softener. Treat. Yo. Self. A+.
The babby shall love hanging shelves as much as I do, by God. B.
MOAR HANGING SHELVES, plus something called “bamboobies” that was on my babby registry but nobody bought (nobody bought any of the breastfeeding stuff — WTF, family? I’ll sic the lactivists on you!), which I haven’t used yet.
This is the breastfeeding pillow Michelle Duggar uses. I find that family abhorrent in every possible way, but I am guessing when it comes to nursing infants they probably know their shit. We’ll see.
My mother-in-law is coming to visit in three days, so it’s finally time to outfit the second bathroom like humans should be able to use it (instead of just throwing used cotton pads on the floor for a week and then scooping them up into a plastic bag hanging from the door handle). B+ for its ability to fit into a tiny space.
The rest of the stuff nobody wanted to buy on the babby registry. I realize that a garbage can specifically designated as a shit receptacle and/or bottles specifically designed as tit receptacles aren’t glamorous, but I needed them. They haven’t arrived yet. Whee.
The end. Happy New Year. I sicken myself.