Holy DNS Settings, Batman!

Techie people, I am in awe of you.  You are modern day Einsteins.  I have no idea what the hell you do, but I am certain that it is amazing. 

I finally decided to spring for a custom domain name for my blog.  It's a shorter name, which makes it easier to give people my blog address.  Now, instead of the really long and probably forgettable www.yeahisaiditblog.blogspot.com, folks can just type in www.yeahisaiditblog.com.  Or for the really lazy/efficient, just yeahisaiditblog.com.  Yay!

It's such a simple thing, right?  WRONG. 

I purchased my domain through Blogger, with the assurance that when you purchase a domain through Blogger (with Google Apps, who partners with GoDaddy or eNom), everything comes configured to work with Google products.  It should all work seamlessly, lied Google.  Tech-clueless me believed it would be that simple. 

And the sneaky Google henchman behind the curtain laughed at my naivete.

For four score and seven years 3 days, I fought valiantly, trying to convince, manipulate, beat, and bribe Blogger to publish to my new domain name.  And it was all, No. I don't recognize you or your authority here, ma'am.  Be gone.

Then it tried to trick me, Rumpelstiltskin style, by giving me some ridiculously long verification code that wouldn't work in my DNS settings as a CNAME.  So, per the recommendation of a techie guy at my domain registry company, I entered the code as a TXT.  And that didn't even work! 

(Is it me or did I sound like Charlie Brown's teacher in that last paragraph?)

I KNOW!!!!!  I've been editing and adding A records and CNAME records and TXT records and slamalamadingdong records for 3 days now, and I still don't know what any of that means.

It's incredibly confusing.  It's a language I don't speak.  The language of GENIUSES, people.  And we can't all be geniuses, you know?

Which is why I am grateful that techies exist.

Especially female techies.

After 4534 emails (which might be a slight exaggeration) and one fruitless telephone conversation with a techie guy from my domain registry company, and at least 4534 tears, I finally got a solution to my problem 15 minutes after my first interaction with a WOMAN.

She had me send her a screen shot.  She looked into Google Support Forums.  And she went in and fixed that long verification code by removing a period at the end that is not supposed to be there, GOOGLE.  Then she changed it from a TXT to a CNAME.  (I know.  Whatever that is.)  And magically, it worked!!!

Hallelujah!  (For real.) 

Note:  I don't think you have to change any of your settings to keep getting notifications about my blog posts.  A TECHIE WOMAN is on the case (*cue superhero music*), so it should all work like magic now.  If it doesn't, let me know.  (And I will revoke her Woman card.)

COMING SOON 

I will be adding the Disqus commenting system, so my legions of readers can have a more user-friendly way to leave comments.  (Which you will totally do more often, right?) (Because I really, really like getting comments.) (And I will totally reply to them.) (Signed, Comment Ho.) 

Hair-Muggification. And a Little Ditty.

Sorry I lied to you guys about the whole "I'll post a video tomorrow" thing.  Sometimes I lie.*  It's necessary to balance out all the good I do.

I will post the video of me singing Adele's Make You Feel My Love in a moment.  But first I'd like to complain about a couple things.  Because that's what I do.  I complain.**

The first thing I'd like to complain about is that I was recently hair-mugged for the 3453545th time.  If you've been around for a while, you know that this is a recurring theme in my life.  For the rest of you, a definition. 

Hair-mugged:  [haer-mug-d] verb; past tense 

1. the act of cutting off way more hair than a person has requested or given permission for (usually perpetrated by a licensed hair stylist) 

2. the act of chopping layers into previously layerless hair without the consent of the client (also usually perpetrated by a licensed hair stylist)

[present tense: is hair-mugging; future tense: will hair-mug}

It'd been 10 weeks since I'd last been robbed of hair, so it was time for a trim.  The last stylist I went to went renegade and decided to deal with my weird swirly growth pattern by cutting the underneath layer at the back of my neck an inch shorter than the rest of my hair.  To "hide it".  Because apparently that layer of hair is optional. 

And since Miss Scissorhands cut the back of my hair so short overall, the underneath layer ended up only being a half inch long.  I was all, "WTH?  Who just gets rid of a layer of hair to deal with a swirly growth pattern?"  And the really sucky thing is that this stylist cost 3 times more than my usual one.

Her masterplan to ruin my life help me manage my swirly growth pattern only caused another problem. Without that underlayer of hair, my curls fell all weird in back.  The left side looked like it was an inch longer than the right side.  And I have OCD, so symmetry is essential.

I went back to try to get things evened out a little, hoping that the stylist could trim the longer-looking side a bit so it would all fall evenly when dry.  Instead, she gave me a hack job on only the left side of my head.  I came home and asked Shrinky Dink to fix it.  (She's my best friend, so she wants me to have good hair.  And she's an artist, so she's got symmetry skillz.)

I waited 10 long weeks to get some length back.  I didn't go back to the expensive hair Nazi (No hair for YOU!).  I went to a cheap stylist who, while not particularly creative, has given me decent haircuts in the past.  I helpfully detailed all the things I wanted (the sides and front long) and all the things I didn't want (chin-length hair).  And she gave me what I asked for--except that she also gave me SIDE LAYERS.  I HATE side layers.  Side layers are not for curly-haired people.  When I have side layers, they wedge up, making me look like a jellyfish.  It's not a good look, people.

And now that I've spent so much time complaining about hair-mugging, I don't feel like complaining about the second thing.  (You're welcome.) 

As a consolation prize for having to read about the Great Hair-Mugging Debacle of 2012/2013, I will just post the video now.

Actually, I just lied again.  First I'll do the footnotes.  Then I'll post the video.

______________________________________________________________________________


*I actually don't lie.  Except about my weight on my drivers license.

**I do complain, however.  Frequently.  I find that it keeps me from going postal on people.  In that way, my complaining is actually a public service.  You're welcome, society at large.

Illannoyed

Shrinky Dink and I just got back from a visit to her dad's in Illinois.  Nature Boy likes him some road trips, and he's a fan of nice grandpas, so he came too.

Unlike my son, I am not a particular fan of road trips.  Riding in a car is just something I have to do to get where I'm going.  Besides, Crohn's disease and long car trips are not great bedfellows.  (I won't go into detail.)  (You're welcome.)

But I didn't want Shrinky Dink to have to make the 8 hour drive alone, so I agreed to accompany her.

Unfortunately, Nature Boy got sick with a cough and shortness of breath the day before the trip.  At night. On New Year's Day.

Which means there was nary a doctor's office open.  Since we were supposed to leave on our trip the next morning, I called several urgent care clinics.  Only one was open.  The receptionist told me to bring my son right in.  We's country folk now, so it took us a good 40 minutes to get there.  We walked in, and I told the receptionist that we'd called ahead and been told to come in.  And the chick had the nerve to say, "I'm sorry.  We just filled our last spot, like, 10 minutes ago."

Girl.      

I was all, "I called ahead!  You told me to come in!  We live 45748975685 miles away and this is the only place open!"

And she just said, "We usually refer to the ER down the street."

I stormed out.  It was dramatic.

What Miss Nonchalant failed to realize is that it was January 1st of a new year, and medical insurance deductibles start over.  Ours is $2000, and it applies to all hospital services, but not to primary care or urgent care.

Her "helpful" referral to the ER meant the difference between a $20 urgent care copay and a $2000 deductible.

So we decided to wait until the next day and go to our primary care doctor.  I set my alarm for the (ridiculously early) hour of 8:30AM and got the earliest appointment I could.  I didn't want us to get too late a start on our road trip.  And wouldn't you know, the appointment took ALL FRICKIN' MORNING!  There was some kind of communication snafu between the medical assistant-in-training and our doctor, and we sat in the exam room for an hour before I was like, "Give my kid some medical attention, yo!".

I know.  I should have spoken up sooner.  But our doctor's office has really good magazines and Cartoon Network, so Nature Boy and I were distracted.

By the time we were done picking up prescriptions at the pharmacy, it was nigh on 2 o'clock.  Too late in the day to leave for Illinois.

Plus, Shrinky Dink had discovered that her driver's license was expired and she couldn't find her birth certificate to get it renewed.

Gah!

So we had to postpone the trip another day.  Amazingly, there were no flat tires or acts of God on the way to Illinois.  And other than being one space heater and a can opener short, there were no major traumas during the trip.

Still, it's good to be home.