Bevvy G

As much as Maude and I like to make fun of MamaG for her Yorkman’s addiction and in-store antics (see here and here), the store does come up with the occasional treasure. I have a few items in my closet from Yorkman’s, and I’m not afraid to admit it. In fact, this summer, when MamaG, Maude, and I headed to the big city for a shopping trip, I found a pair of booties that I really liked. They were over $100 and it was over 100 degrees, so I didn’t spring for them that day, but I’ve kept a Safari tab open on my phone of the link to the Yorkman’s site with the exact bootie (yes, since July. What?). 

Well, it’s September (come the hell ON, fall! Boot season needs to be here) and I happened to be sitting in traffic today and clicked on the shoe page to see those babies priced at $60.74- nearly half off! I immediately jumped on the hotline to MamaG to clarify her knowledge and Mafia-like connections to Yorkman’s online shopping, shipping, etc. She was gleeful at the sale price of the bootie and informed me that her Yorkman’s superpowers don’t normally benefit much when online shopping, but that they often have free shipping codes, etc. 

Well, guys, guess whose daughter scored 25% off AND free shipping, and paid a cool $51.63 for the $100+ boots?!?! Yeah. Me. 

I think MamaG is almost as proud as Smoke was a few years ago when I shot a gopher through the left eye at 30 paces.

-Bev

Guys, I know that you all like to hear Smoke Goldenstein stories (and I like to tell them!) but I’ve gotta share a story from another one of my favorite Mayberrians tonight- Edith. You’ve heard lots about Edith here (just search her name up there if you can’t remember) and she’s one of my favorite people of all time. She and I share a love for Coors Light and Our Team, and can often be found drunkenly messaging each other on college game days. Yesterday was no exception, and Bev and Edith both really let our hair down yesterday. Our team won in an overtime nail biter (thank goodness), it’s Edith’s little sister Myrtle’s birthday weekend, and Bev’s mouse was murdered, so the forecast for the day was drunk and disorderly.

After texting all day yesterday and into the night with Edith, I FaceTimed her this afternoon to rehash our shenanigans (Bev is known for hungover FaceTimes- if you’re reading here, you probably know that!) while I was in the Taco Bell/Pizza Hut drive-thru (where I got a burrito AND a personal pan pepperoni [pers pan pep if you will]- no shame in my game). A few minutes into our conversation, Edith says, “Wanna hear about my brunch?” Naturally, I was like, “YES.” So, Edith tells me about her brunch. And it was a doozy, guys. I would like to start off Edith’s brunch story by saying that Myrtle and Myrtle’s boyfriend (two of Edith’s brunch companions) had both puked in the night or early morning. 

Sooooo, Edith arrives at brunch to a fairly crowded place, and everyone in her party is feeling a bit under the weather (see above). The group is told that there is a 15-20 minute wait for a table, so they’re just kind of sitting around, waiting. Edith is really not feeling well at this point and announces to the group that she’s probably just going to go puke and get it over with (we’ve all been there, man). But this is where it gets good. Does Edith go to the bathroom and vomit like a normal hungover human? Nope. She gets in her friend’s car (friend had picked her up for brunch) and drives home. Then, she leaves her friend’s car running in her driveway while she runs in and pukes. Then she goes back to brunch and the table is ready.

Please just reread the last three sentences. I am laughing out loud alone in my (mouseless) apartment.

-Bev

The good news is, I’ve discovered that if you spot a mouse in your home, you will finally be motivated to stay late at work to finish the stuff that has been piling up for a week.

The bad news is… CLEAR.

The bad news is very, very clear, guys.

-Bev

It’s been five years since I posted and I’ll save you the I’veBeenUpAt4:30amAlmostEveryDayForTheLastMonth spiel, and try to get my tired ass in gear (I know you miss me). But for now, I want to share a little life snippet.

I’ve always said that I’m not necessarily the person you want to have around in an emergency (see startle reflex for Exhibit A and my life/this blog for Exhibits B-Z times infinity..), and I really hope that nothing life-threatening ever happens near or around me.

This theory was proven this week when cousin Bessie and Alfred found themselves directly in the path of Hurricane Irma on their honeymoon. Bessie’s texts became increasingly frantic from Monday evening into Tuesday afternoon, and the whole Page family has been in a bit of a tizzy as Bessie and Alfred have had one hell of a time getting out of the Dominican Republic and into a safe, dry resort. (dry, as in physically, not alcoholically) Uncle Bart was able to get them to Aruba, but not after an absolutely hellacious 24+ hours of planes, trains, and automobiles. Add in shaky electricity, not speaking the language, a smoky smell upon take-off, all on top of an impending Category 5 hurricane, and all chaos was starting to ensue. 

Turns out, that in an emergency, my advice is to hoard peanut butter from any open buffet you can find and to stuff any cash in your body cavities.

Fight or flight?

More like, “Find a bite; get cash outta sight.“

You’re welcome.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I really am getting up at 4:30 again tomorrow, and I need to go rummage through my cabinets for my ZzzQuil.

I (along with the Page family) will sleep much more soundly tonight, knowing Bessie and Alfred are out of harm’s way. And I won’t be accepting cash from them anytime soon.

-Bev

P.S.- thoughts and prayers to all affected by the recent (and imminent) hurricanes. And fires. Seriously, what is even happening?

From California to Colorado, from Omaha to Chicago, from Nashville to Charleston, literally every social media post I have seen today pertains to the eclipse. Which is cool, because, like, science and stuff. 

But one person? One person stayed strong and straight shilled her powder contour kits all. damn. day.

Never change, Kim.

Never change. 

-Bev

Remember that time that I accidentally sent Maude (my) twelve boxes of Kleenex? If you don’t you should definitely click that link, but if you do, then you may find some humor in this little gem.

So, I always send my nieces a book for their first day of school. I recently got on Amazon to pick out this year’s reads. Bev here doesn’t really use Amazon much, (I know. People hate me for this almost as much as they hate me for hating dogs. Almost.) so I asked Maude if I could log in to her Amazon Prime account, so as not to pay for shipping. She quickly shot me the username and password, and in a short period of time, gifts were well on their way to the Dunnwalg home, courtesy of Aunt Bev.

I quickly realized that I needed some specialty notebooks for an upcoming work project, and put in a separate order for the notebooks and some pens while I was at it. I double, triple, and quadruple checked to make sure this order was going on my card (not Maude and Jasper’s saved card on their account), not to use the $13 they had in Amazon gift card credit (as I had done in the previous transaction for the books), and that the item would be shipped to me, not Maude and Jasper.

Except…

I literally checked like four times. Thank God I am headed back to the Mayberry area in a few short weeks for cousin Bessie’s wedding, or I’d be paying Maude to ship my shit. Which, you might remember, is the whole reason I used her account.

I need a nice cold can of LaCroix now. (#Whole30Probs)

-Bev

I wasn’t even going to post today, but then I set bacon on fire on my grill, and I felt like you guys should know.

Bacon.

On fire.

Like, flames.

-Bev

P.S.- No Bevs, bevs, or other living things were injured during this debacle¹ and the bacon pan is currently cooling before I throw that bastard in the trash. (I did pick out about 1/3 of the salvageable bacon, though. That shit ain’t cheap.)

¹Well, maybe some grass.

*Edited to add: I had to finish up this post so I could go eat dinner and apply ointment to my curling iron burn from last week. I’m really on fire here, guys.

**Edited again to add: I can’t find the burn ointment and I’m just going to go to bed now.

Guys! I’m alive! I’m living and breathing and I still pay for this web space! I’m sorry I’ve been AWOL, but this time of year can be a little hectic for Bev at work, and since I haven’t yet been discovered by Coors, Kim, or… Warren Buffett, or any other person/corporation that could relieve me of my miserable day job, I actually have to, like, try.

I am also one official¹ week into a quick cycle of The Whole 30. If you’re unfamiliar with The Whole 30, the website will tell you that it is a guide to ‘food freedom’ and I will tell you that it is a guide to becoming a prisoner in your own home (or office) because you a) are constantly planning, buying, chopping, cooking, and packing up food to fit the guidelines of the program, and b) you can’t eat or drink anything that wasn’t manufactured in actual Oz by Bigfoot, the LochNess Monster, and Tupac.

So, 30 days of no alcohol- you must be thinking that Bev’s life must be pretty boring then, huh? You would be wrong. And I plan to prove that in the next few days by describing some recent events in the life of Beverly Soberstein, so stay tuned. For now, I need to go take out my contacts, throw in a load of laundry, and clean up my kitchen. Because all I’ve done for the last seven days is plan, buy, chop, cook, and pack up food to fit the guidelines of my journey to masochism food freedom.

¹That is, if you consider “official” to include the 835 Coors Lights, Sauv Beasties, and tequila shots I had Wednesday night at a coworker happy hour. I planned for that one indiscretion, and I was actually able to keep all of my food items Whole 30 compliant (I really hate that word for some reason) both while drunk and while hungover. What I’m really telling you here is not that I can eat Whole 30 on a hangover and survive it. I am telling you that I am immortal.

MamaG is taking Maude and Bev on a shopping trip today, which presents a perfect opportunity to unleash something out of my arsenal- a post I’ve had waiting in the wings for the right place and the right time.

And not just any post. We’ve got a special little treat in store today- a guest post by Bev’s sister, the one and only Maude. You can read more about Maude here in the “Who’s Who” tab, but if you’re already familiar, go ahead and feast yourself on this long-buried treasure.

While Bev cracked the door for you into MamaG’s secret super power “Yorkman’s Coupon Wonder Woman” here, she didn’t really scratch the surface. 

You may only be able to comprehend the enormity of the gift (read: obsession) if you’ve ever been to Yorkman’s and tried to decipher which coupons/rewards cards/senior discount/whateverothercrazyspecialtheyrun you can or cannot use with the black dot/yellow dot/bonus buy/incredible value/whateverothercrazydealnametheyuse.  It truly is mind boggling, and you have to experience it first hand to become a believer.  But, it’s also important to understand the amount of dedication MamaG has to her craft.  I was able to experience (and benefit from – shout out $55 off a dress I had to buy anyway!) MamaG at Yorkman’s for holiday shopping and the level of effort required to become Yorkman’s discount goddess: Level Expert. 

Here are some things I observed as if you’re thinking of starting your own training:

1.     Do not be afraid to ask.  Repeatedly. 

Case in point: gift receipts.  MamaG had purchased some items in the River City Yorkman’s the day before I was with her.  And those fools made the treacherous mistake of providing her the WRONG gift receipts.  Don’t be alarmed – MamaG and I are on day 1 of our annual holiday shopping quest and we are in the west side RiverRapids Yorkman’s.  She approaches our first victim cashier with said receipt and explains the situation; however the cashier clarifies that only the computer that printed the receipt can correct it.  MamaG is skeptical, but lets it go.  For now. 

Enter day 2 of the annual holiday shopping quest – we are now at the EAST side River Rapids Yorkman’s.  (2 Yorkman’s in one city, you ask?  Oh, yes.  See rule #3 for more details.)  She immediately approaches a victim cashier again to ask about this problem.  He is unsure, but thinks his manager may be able to help – oooooh!  This leads me to rule #2, but for now, let’s stay on task: get those gift receipts.  The manager takes us to another station and quickly is able to use the receipt from 2 days ago from a different Yorkman’s to produce the correct gift receipts.  Hallelujah – score 1 – MamaG

2.     Cashiers are key. 

Bev accurately documented in her original glimpse that cashiers cannot always follow along with MamaG’s level of expertise in their own company’s deal/coupon combinations.  In her own River City Yorkman’s, she definitely has cashiers that she actively seeks out who are on par with her game play.  Here in River Rapids, she is sniffing out who’s who so she can score big.  This manager is clearly jackpot as she has resolved the great gift receipt debacle of 2016.  MamaG decides to press her luck and ask this one about another problem we encountered on our previous day’s purchase at west side Yorkman’s – bogus Rewards cards.  When we attempted to use the Rewards cards MamaG received at her River City store, the cashier in River Rapids told her they were already used.  Ooooo-eeee!  MamaG had been given faulty cards?  Not good.  Thankfully she had a few spares we were able to use the day before, but we had a whole day at this new Yorkman’s ahead of us! 

She explained the situation to the manager, at which point, Whitney (the cashier working the station the manger was using) piped up saying she’s been seeing a lot of that.  Whitney’s theory is that the associates are just throwing down their used cards on the counter and then subsequently picking them up and giving them out again by accident.  The manager is willing to make it right and tells MamaG that she just needs to bring her purchases here to Whitney, who will honor the “already used” Rewards cards.  Crisis averted – score 2 – MamaG

3.     Frequent flyer trips.

In order to really get the best deals, you need to visit your local Yorkman’s (or as many in the tri-state area as you can) multiple times per week.  I have literally received a cashmere sweater for Jasper from MamaG who had found one for $7 on her bi-weekly quest.  You gotta know the territory. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZ9U4Cbb4wg  (check out the 3:11 mark) Despite the fact that MamaG saves him millions annually by shopping at Yorkman’s, Smoke is known to give her a hard time and a quote heard frequently on the farm is, “Yorkman’s called.  They haven’t seen you in 48 hours and they’re making sure you’re okay.”

4.     Review and persevere – what’s right is right.

Immediately after returning to my house post day 1 of purchases, MamaG is examining her receipt (read: a hundred lines of code for the 3 items we purchased) and realizes they did NOT give her the senior citizen discount.  She wants that extra 10%, by gum.  I offer to give her the $6 if she lets it go, but what’s right is right.  The original victim cashier at the east side Yorkman’s we approached about the gift receipts was able to easily correct the problem.  Before he made the award winning call to the manager to resolve the gift receipt debacle, he was able to get that 10% back on MamaG’s Yorkman’s card, no problem.  Score 3 – MamaG

5.     Share the wealth.

Hopefully I’ve made MamaG’s gift for getting ridiculously amazing deals at Yorkman’s very, very clear.  I’m a witness that it is a sight to behold.  But, you should also know, MamaG is also an incredibly generous person and she does not keep this gift to herself.  Not only are our family members regular recipients of quality clothing at a low price, she benevolently bestows her discounts and wisdom to those in line around her.  She is full of stories about how she handed an almost expired coupon that she didn’t need to someone in front of her in line trying to use the wrong combination (silly fools) only to have that person kiss her feet and worship the ground she walks on.  She regularly jumps in to assist if an ill-equipped Yorkman’s patron comes up against a half-witted Yorkman’s cashier and is able to build the path of peace by deciphering acceptable discount combinations.  So, keep a look out, if you see a beautiful, benevolent, and intelligent woman hanging around the cash register at your local Yorkman’s helping people get a great deal, it could be MamaG. I think there’s actually a story of a man offering to buy her lunch because she saved him money. I’m sure MamaG will be weighing in in the comments section today, so she can elaborate.

Following that 2 day shopping trip (and a lifetime of observing her in her natural habitat), I never cease to be amazed.  She really is “Yorkman’s Coupon Wonder Woman” and as I sit here writing this in a gift from her from Yorkman’s, I am thankful.  And since she saved $34.68, Smoke should be thankful, too.  Even Bev is a recipient of the Yorkman’s gift, so we’ll stop poking fun (for today) and just offer our thanks.  Thanks, MamaG!  Keep on sharing the wealth!

So there you have it, guys. I know this post seems almost like it’s written in another language, and that is literally how I feel every time I go to Yorkman’s with MamaG. Here’s hoping we can find some SuperDotYellowDotBonusBuySeniorCitizens discounts today! (to save for a Christmas gift, of course- we wouldn’t want to buy anything to KEEP and USE in August!)

-Bev (well, Maude)