Guess Who’s Back Again, Back Again

No, no, friends. It’s not Eminem this time.

It’s Hello Kitty Toaster.

Those of you that have been around for a while (and I mean a while) know that I used to refer to my sister in law as Hello Kitty Toaster. The point was simple: she is pointless, a mere novelty in a world that has very little use for her. She is somewhat irrelevant, few people even know she exists. She is vacuous. An eye sore.

But I digress…

Well a lot has happened since I blogged about her last, most importantly that she no longer lives anywhere near us (so she’s not usually even a flicker of a thought in my head); and, she and my brother in law are on the outs. The divorce kind.

They have a kid now, our niece. She’s 7 (so that gives you an idea how long it’s been since I posted about her). You would think that having a child would have made Hello Kitty Toaster grow up a little since the days of outright arguing with me publicly on Facebook over whether or not vegetables are good for you (her position was that they are, in fact, not)… but no.

I think if it’s possible for people to grow less mature as they age, she is living proof of it.

So flash forward to now, in the divorce she ended up taking a number of things from their home (not sure she was supposed to do that), and one of them was a television that had originally been at my in law’s house. At some point in time (we are talking close to a decade ago), we had logged in to our Amazon Prime account for our children to watch some tv show or movie on there – a common occurrence back in the days before the pandemic, when people could just get together and hangout without having to worry about killing each other with their breath. I’m pretty sure that in the time between then, and now, we have changed our Amazon Prime password a countless number of times, and yet somehow – it turns out – she was able to log in to our account through that TV.

How did we find out? Buckle up, this is a doozy.

About a month and a half ago, after not hearing or even thinking about her for years, my husband received a text message from her that said “Can you and your wife please log out of my Prime, thank you.” This turned into a little bit of a back and forth, where she accused us of using her Amazon Prime account – a little odd, not only because we have our own account, but also because we hadn’t talked to her in nearly a decade at that point.

Finally, my husband grew frustrated and, at the same time, realized she was trying to actually use our account on one of his parents televisions that she took, and just said “you’re probably on one of the televisions you stole from my brother, you need to use your own account and stop involving us in your issues.”

Right before he blocked her number, she fired off the doozy, and had the audacity to even demand we give her the Pin to reactivate our account on the stolen television:

Ha, thank you, all I want is the pin to let my daughter watch the Sound of Music. Last time I checked when you’re married it isn’t stealing, maybe you need to hop on to my Prime because you have a deadbeat wife and two jobs excuse you. Next time you talk to me with ‘authority’ make sure you aren’t making a fool of yourself, so the Pin please.”

So much to unpack here, but above all we’ll stick with the fact that Hello Kitty Toaster, my friends, is a fucking psycho.

The conversation came to an end at that point. We went back to our lives, she I assume went back to hers. Stopped thinking about her anymore until today, when my kids and I decided to watch Bowling for Columbine on this, the 23rd anniversary of the Columbine school shooting in Littleton, CO.

I logged on to our Prime account from my phone to rent the movie, and lo and behold I saw that my sister in law (well, ex-sister in law) has somehow still figured out how to create her own profile on our Amazon Prime account, hasn’t even code-named it something inconspicuous – just straight up used her name – and that she’s been continuing to use our account since that ridiculous text argument over a month ago.

The. Audacity.

This time I was able to get a hold of Amazon (both online, and on Twitter) and we were able to remove her device from our account, remove her profile, change the password – the whole shebang. Of course it likely falls short of falling under being defined as fraud in the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, but I will say I do plan to go through all of our purchases for the last several months, and cross them with our bank statements, to make sure everything matches up.

There’s a lot more about this situation that piques in my mind as worthy of discussion, though. One is that this woman, Hello Kitty Toaster, has charge of our 7 year old niece for 50% of every week. What kind of an example is she raising this child into? Is she even mentally fit to have that kind of influence over a young child? Certainly this trailer park trash town hillbilly behavior doesn’t warrant an emergency custody order, but the sense of entitlement to other people’s things – people you have not even spoken to or been involved with for close to a decade – seems, to me (in my totally unqualified and unprofessional opinion) to speak to some larger mental health issues that could turn into a problem down the line for this innocent kid of theirs.

“Guess who’s back again, back again” – for those of you unaware – is Eminem’s ode to himself; how rap/hip hop would be useless without him. Apropos of nothing, Hello Kitty Toaster seems to be one of those people that just squirms her way back in, commanding the room and demanding we all listen to her self-serving bullshit.

Well I, for one, am done with it. Done with the abuse. Done with feeling like I have to give free rent in my head to people like her. Narcissism is a bad look on a novelty toaster, which is why I’m over it. She can text my husband and call me a deadbeat, she can try to steal all the passwords to all the streaming services we subscribe to (of which there are too many) until she’s blue in the face. I’m over it. She’s been out of our lives for close to a decade, and unlike Eminem, her return is not even occasionally welcome.

With that being said, I’ll be sure to let you guys know if we find out she made purchases on our account, because then this shit’s going wild…

Donuts, Thievery, and a Public Pregnancy Test: My Friday Wrap Up

You faithful blog followers may have noticed I haven’t posted in about a week. I’ve been dealing with technical issues regarding my book that was supposed to be released via eBook May15th, but was postponed until this upcoming Tuesday, June 5th because of said issues. If you haven’t checked out the trailer, you can watch it here.

In the meantime, here is my Friday wrap up:

I was just thinking to myself this morning on the way to Best Donuts to get the town’s best … donuts … in honor of National Donut Day: man, B(itch) … you really haven’t had much to b(itch) about lately. Sure, I’ve had this Kindle publishing issue, and I have had my fair share of jerky statements from my husband and other locals, but I really haven’t had much to complain about in the last week that has comprised an entire blog post. Life has been pretty blasé.

Until I went to the fucking mall today.

We are housesitting for my father and have very little to do with our time, so decided after eating breakfast donuts and milk that we’d go shopping at the mall. I didn’t have any homeschooling planned out for this week because we were actually supposed to go with my father to this sports dork convention he is speaking at, but we decided at the last minute to stay home to take care of some other stuff around his house for him.

At the mall, I found some awesome kid’s White Sox t-shirts (FINALLY!!!), as well as some great make-up deals at Sephora. I even got two shirts at Express before we headed to The Gap to return a dress I had bought last week and pick up a few other things we needed to replace (ahem, jelly shoes). I would say I had about $200 of merchandise in my hands when we got to The Gap – merchandise I had already purchased – and the cashier asked if I could fill out my name and address for the exchange of the dress for the jelly shoes. I set my bags down on the counter right next to me and in a matter of seconds, the woman standing behind me grabbed my bags and ran.

The cashier screamed “she just stole this woman’s bags!!!” as we saw the lady run out of the mall. No one chased her. I certainly didn’t (knowing four people from my time working at Longs Drugstore who have lifetime injuries from chasing thieves). I also immediately checked my purse, which was still slung over my shoulder, to make sure that everything was in it (it was). But then I was seriously annoyed in the coming minutes because of how poorly the matter was held.

First, the cashier told me they aren’t allowed to call mall security if the actual store is not getting robbed. This – in and of itself – is a stupid and pointless rule. What would it hurt anyone for them to call security?

Next, after walking all the way to mall security, I was informed that they are not allowed to “chase after” people, and that if I would like I could walk around the mall and look for someone carrying our bags.

Finally, I realized the most egregious of things regarding the theft. I was super upset about the fact that about $200 was wasted, for which I would not get any of that or my merchandise back. When I went back to the sports store, though, the White Sox sizes I needed were out. When I went back to Sephora, I learned that the eyeshadow I had stolen – which I have worn for years – was discontinued and the one I had bought was the last one they had. And in the final straw – the real kick in the face – I realized that I had put my book in one of the bags that was stolen because the weight it added to my shoulder was hurting my neck, and inside of that book was my super-nice bookmark from the Hemingway Museum in Oak Park, IL. The bookmark has been a sentimental thing for me – it reminds me of home and makes me feel less sad having it with me as I remember the last time I was there, when I purchased it.

Such bull shit.

Later this evening, I was then pitying myself, and emotionally eating and drinking, when I had to hit up the bathroom at my local Mimi’s Cafe. We go to this Mimi’s all the time, so much so that I am the mayor of it on Foursquare and the employees know us. What can I say, I’m a fan of faux French bistro food and Happiest Hour $5 soups. So I went to the bathroom to wash the filth of the day off my hands and while in there I saw a woman standing there, dipping an EPT pregnancy test into a paper McDonald’s cup she had peed in.

Who the shit takes a pregnancy test in a  public restroom like that?

Further, why in the name of all that is good would she pee into a McDonald’s cup, rather than what a normal person would do, which is pee on the fucking stick? Those things have splash guards for a reason.

It was quite a day, faithful blog followers. Quite a fucking day. The only redeeming thing about it was my strawberry frosting- and sprinkle-covered donut that I had for breakfast. It’s a rare occasion that I eat a donut, and after that whole Donut Dick conversation with my husband last month, I was even hesitant to have them today. After all the BS from the rest of the day, I may just have one tomorrow though. Or maybe two …

… or maybe I will just have a whole box.