A while ago hubby and I went to a school charity Bull and Oyster Roast at a local volunteer fire department hall.
I had heard of these mysterious “Bull and Oyster Roast” things mostly in conjunction with fund-raising, but had never attended one mainly because:
1.) I don’t like oysters. Raw oysters are nasty, phlegm-like and frankly if I wanted that sensation, I just have to wait until I catch my next cold and experience it for free. Not only that, but I hear there are some nasty illnesses you can get from eating those things, so I’ll pass.
2.) Unless they are roasting a whole bull on a spit, I’m guessing the “bull” part is beef, and frankly you can get that anywhere, so even if its for a good cause, why spend $35 to go to a dreary volunteer fire department hall and eat beef (except to ogle firemen... ok, so its worth $35)?
As I expected, we arrived and knew nobody, well, hubby knew one guy from work, the one that sold him the tickets, the rest were strangers all grouped at tables by who knew who. We sat at a table alone for the most part, and there were NO firemen to be seen. The “bull and oyster roast” was actually coleslaw (tasty), cooked shreds of ham, turkey, and beef (there’s the bull part), but no oysters. Hey! How can you call it a bull and oyster roast if there are no oysters. Sure, the cookies were good, but I felt cheated because I didn’t get a chance to rant about the nasty consistency of raw oysters and their inherent diseases to complete strangers.
The entertainment consisted of someone spinning a wheel, people putting money on numbers and if the wheel hit that number, they won money. Um... wait a minute, isn’t that gambling and illegal in the state of Maryland?
They also had a raffle, and were selling tickets to a 50/50 thing where they spun a wheel and if the number on your ticket matched... hey, isn’t that gambling. I felt as though any moment we’d be raided by a government agency and arrested.
The entertainment that night was a DJ. Ok, these people make a living (usually a side-living) by playing music for people who can’t (and usually don’t) dance, but this one took it to the very extreme by being... proactive and chipper. Disgustingly chipper, and chatty. He did lame magic tricks with members of the audience (yawn), then they “played a game” where team members had to put on wacky clothes and run back wearing the wacky clothes, take said wacky clothes off and another person dashed across the dance floor and put on the wacky clothes. I thought the funniest thing about this “contest” was that the losing team actually seemed very upset by the fact that the other team “cheated”. Are you kidding me? They’re arguing over a wacky game?
Placated by a funny plastic hat given to all participants (oh brother) the “real” music began... the Electric Slide.
This is where the whole “how do these things happen” topic starts. How does this crap start, spread, and get danced all over the world? Everything from the chicken dance, to the YMCA song, these things have to start somewhere by some idiot, but how do they spread all over, and why? Apparently the “Electric Slide” according to Wikipedia was started by someone in 1976, but actually found its “craze” in 1989. The person that “created” it, actually sues those that post people doing it wrong on video upload sites. Are ya kidding me?
For some reason I was never a participant of such line dancing, having been scarred for life during the whole “disco” craze, and being forced to suffer through “disco dancing” in high school PE class (I’m guessing that was the beginning of the end for high school PE and the very cause of the obesity problem in school children, but call me crazy).
So, last night I sat in awe as people sat out of other dance tunes, but like zombies with no minds, the moment that song started, lurched to the dance floor and did the steps. It was all women too, which bolsters the following theory:
1.) women like to dance, so they drag their husbands and boyfriends to dance places where their male significant others refuse to dance.
2.) women can only pee in groups
3.) out of necessity and the need to dance, the pee groups came out of the bathroom one time, heard a catchy little tune and created a dance (since the “creator” of the electric slide is sue happy, I expect my lawsuit summons in the mail at any moment for saying that women who have peed created this “fad”)
4.) Once the pee group got snippy with each other over something stupid, each member of the pee group started a new pee group, passing on the wacky dance to them, and from there it spread like wildfire because women tend to argue about stupid things and dump their friends for the smallest infraction (before any women sue me, I’m a woman, shut up, I know what I’m talking about)
So, we can thank women with small bladders and the need to dance in groups without their men for suffering through this crap at functions big and small. Now, I’d really like to know who put old Glen Miller dance tunes to a funky beat and strangle them, the same goes for those Macarena morons.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Insight to Why I'm a Bit Nuts
So, the news was goofing on politicians saying “The Way Forward” over and over and over. Well, duh, that’s just contractor speak and has been used to death on documents for years now, and as a technical writer... well, I speak the lingo.
I’m actually somewhat relieved by the fact that its taken over for the nauseous and nonsensical “Paradigm Shift” of days gone by, perhaps it’ll even take over for “thinking outside the box”, but I doubt that. Thinking outside the box is how you plan the “way forward”. Then there are those who are rebels and use “Way Ahead”, which may be a little short-sighted and only used to get through the next week, whereas the “way forward” suggests a longer term plan, but certainly not a “solution” to a problem. Its more of a machete approach to get through a boggle, then you have to plan the plan for the over-arching solution.
Some other gems expected to make it into the mainstream (remember, you heard it here first) will be adding “centric” to everything. From Net-centric, to war-centric, peace-centric, grocery store-centric, you name it, and “centric” will be added to it.
Another good one is adding “ability” to the end of everything. Sustainability, Re-usability, coffeeability, planability, way forwardability, thinking outside of the boxability, paradigm shiftability. Its all just another way to say the same vague thing, but make it seem much MORE.
So, the depth and breadthability of the latest paradigm shift in the war strategy is to plan the plan for the way forward in the peace-centric future.
I’m actually somewhat relieved by the fact that its taken over for the nauseous and nonsensical “Paradigm Shift” of days gone by, perhaps it’ll even take over for “thinking outside the box”, but I doubt that. Thinking outside the box is how you plan the “way forward”. Then there are those who are rebels and use “Way Ahead”, which may be a little short-sighted and only used to get through the next week, whereas the “way forward” suggests a longer term plan, but certainly not a “solution” to a problem. Its more of a machete approach to get through a boggle, then you have to plan the plan for the over-arching solution.
Some other gems expected to make it into the mainstream (remember, you heard it here first) will be adding “centric” to everything. From Net-centric, to war-centric, peace-centric, grocery store-centric, you name it, and “centric” will be added to it.
Another good one is adding “ability” to the end of everything. Sustainability, Re-usability, coffeeability, planability, way forwardability, thinking outside of the boxability, paradigm shiftability. Its all just another way to say the same vague thing, but make it seem much MORE.
So, the depth and breadthability of the latest paradigm shift in the war strategy is to plan the plan for the way forward in the peace-centric future.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Too Much Information
While some might find this entry a bit too “TMI” I feel strongly that women really need to be honest about the crap that goes on with their bodies. Seriously, I mean for the longest time I thought I was some kind of freak because I had one single hair growing out of control on my chin. I went through life for the longest time thinking that I was carnival freak show potential, only to find out later from some kind woman friend of mine that chin hairs do happen, as do chest hairs, nipple hairs, you name it hairs in strange places.
In the spirit of disclosure, and to ease the minds of other women, I’d like to discuss feminine itch.
Ok, I’m not really going to go into great detail about the actual feminine itch, more like what you do to get rid of it. Like most products that tailor their names to the malady such as: Tylenol, Motrin, Pepcid... hmm, wait a minute, you would think that these products would be called something like “head hurts be gone” or “stop the head throbbin” or “no more burning chest after you eat”, because why else would a product for feminine itch be called VAGISIL. Even hemorrhoid medication is subtly named “Preparation H”. Sure, it now has a reputation and is KNOWN, but its certainly not flying off the shelf as “open sores up your ass”.
Ok, so lets just say that you were newly born and working a cash register at your local drug store. Even with no knowledge of the world, you would still probably guess that something called Vagisil had something to do with a VAGINA. Why would you guess this? Well probably because the brightly colored box also explains in big letters that its for UNCOMFORTABLE VAGINAL ITCHING.
Now that its all spelled out for everyone to see (from at least 100 feet away), there’s the whole, taking it off the shelf, semi-concealing it without looking as though you are going to shoplift it, stand in line with it, and pay for it. If you are lucky (like me) you’ll get a nice, young, handsome looking man at the register. There’s no amount of “so... how’s the weather?” banter that will stop him from seeing what you are purchasing... processing what you are purchasing... wondering just what it is that causes you to buy something like this, and will certainly remember you for the rest of your shopping life and no matter what you buy that little bell in his head will ring: vaginal itch.
Even though its one little cardboard box containing a tube, when asked if you want a bag for it, you almost scream YES, for you certainly would not go wandering out of the drug store with it held in your hand, perhaps waving it over your head for everyone to see, proudly proclaiming your soon to be domination over the vaginal itch. No, you WANT a bag, and frankly what with the diaphanous white bags used in most stores, you almost want to insist on double bagging your purchase, but refrain.
As you leave, you are convinced that everyone in line with you, the cashier, and soon all of the workers of the drug store will be dutifully informed of your purchase (and most likely soaking anything you just touched in antibacterial stuff). You are also quite sure that every one you walk past can see through the bag, even though you’ve gone to great lengths to wrap it around the cardboard box and hold your hand in such a way as to conceal the wording as best as you can without looking like an eagle swooping off with a freshly killed mouse in its talons.
Now, let me mention the “odor blocking formula”. It has a very distinct perfume about it. Its so distinct that if you’ve ever used it, or smelled it, if you smell it again, then you know that whoever reeks of it is using it. This defeats the entire purpose of having any sort of “odor blocking formula” in my opinion. If you are trying to mask a foul discharge that is common during “vaginal itch”, then that’s fine, but don’t mask it with something that identifies it as the treatment to that issue. You will either smell like a person with a problem, or you will smell like a person that is treating that problem, either way, EVERYONE knows! How about using something like “coffee”, or “chocolate” to mask the smell. Make it an every day odor that can’t be identified. Something that doesn’t scream out VAGINAL ITCH CREAM IN USE HERE!
In closing, I have to applaud the makers of Vagisil from trying to provide young girls with information about this most unpleasant experience. I know that as a young girl, I wasn’t too keen on approaching my mother and asking her any questions in that regard. Kids growing up now are so lucky that they can google just about anything and find out instead of worrying. I do wonder though... did the chick posing on their Web site as “Sabrina” know that her photo shoot gig was to be the poster girl for hip vaginal itch information?
In the spirit of disclosure, and to ease the minds of other women, I’d like to discuss feminine itch.
Ok, I’m not really going to go into great detail about the actual feminine itch, more like what you do to get rid of it. Like most products that tailor their names to the malady such as: Tylenol, Motrin, Pepcid... hmm, wait a minute, you would think that these products would be called something like “head hurts be gone” or “stop the head throbbin” or “no more burning chest after you eat”, because why else would a product for feminine itch be called VAGISIL. Even hemorrhoid medication is subtly named “Preparation H”. Sure, it now has a reputation and is KNOWN, but its certainly not flying off the shelf as “open sores up your ass”.
Ok, so lets just say that you were newly born and working a cash register at your local drug store. Even with no knowledge of the world, you would still probably guess that something called Vagisil had something to do with a VAGINA. Why would you guess this? Well probably because the brightly colored box also explains in big letters that its for UNCOMFORTABLE VAGINAL ITCHING.
Now that its all spelled out for everyone to see (from at least 100 feet away), there’s the whole, taking it off the shelf, semi-concealing it without looking as though you are going to shoplift it, stand in line with it, and pay for it. If you are lucky (like me) you’ll get a nice, young, handsome looking man at the register. There’s no amount of “so... how’s the weather?” banter that will stop him from seeing what you are purchasing... processing what you are purchasing... wondering just what it is that causes you to buy something like this, and will certainly remember you for the rest of your shopping life and no matter what you buy that little bell in his head will ring: vaginal itch.
Even though its one little cardboard box containing a tube, when asked if you want a bag for it, you almost scream YES, for you certainly would not go wandering out of the drug store with it held in your hand, perhaps waving it over your head for everyone to see, proudly proclaiming your soon to be domination over the vaginal itch. No, you WANT a bag, and frankly what with the diaphanous white bags used in most stores, you almost want to insist on double bagging your purchase, but refrain.
As you leave, you are convinced that everyone in line with you, the cashier, and soon all of the workers of the drug store will be dutifully informed of your purchase (and most likely soaking anything you just touched in antibacterial stuff). You are also quite sure that every one you walk past can see through the bag, even though you’ve gone to great lengths to wrap it around the cardboard box and hold your hand in such a way as to conceal the wording as best as you can without looking like an eagle swooping off with a freshly killed mouse in its talons.
Now, let me mention the “odor blocking formula”. It has a very distinct perfume about it. Its so distinct that if you’ve ever used it, or smelled it, if you smell it again, then you know that whoever reeks of it is using it. This defeats the entire purpose of having any sort of “odor blocking formula” in my opinion. If you are trying to mask a foul discharge that is common during “vaginal itch”, then that’s fine, but don’t mask it with something that identifies it as the treatment to that issue. You will either smell like a person with a problem, or you will smell like a person that is treating that problem, either way, EVERYONE knows! How about using something like “coffee”, or “chocolate” to mask the smell. Make it an every day odor that can’t be identified. Something that doesn’t scream out VAGINAL ITCH CREAM IN USE HERE!
In closing, I have to applaud the makers of Vagisil from trying to provide young girls with information about this most unpleasant experience. I know that as a young girl, I wasn’t too keen on approaching my mother and asking her any questions in that regard. Kids growing up now are so lucky that they can google just about anything and find out instead of worrying. I do wonder though... did the chick posing on their Web site as “Sabrina” know that her photo shoot gig was to be the poster girl for hip vaginal itch information?
How to Wash a Bra
Ok, you’ve got to be kidding me, but someone actually did a WikiHow on how to wash a bra, complete with pictures.
I had to check it out, after all it was a link on my google home page and I was bored. Perhaps all these years I’ve been washing my bras wrong, so I figured that I needed to find out the “right” way. I mean there must be more to it than taking bra off, tossing bra into washing machine, taking wet clean bra out of washing machine and throw into dryer. Untangle bra from other items, toss now clean bra into drawer.
Sure enough, the writer of this “how to” suggests all sorts of preparation before the bra even goes into the washer, and even a special bag to put the bra into! Wow, the pictures are very informational and educational too. What cracked me up was the whole inference that if you didn’t have a lingerie bag to put your bras into, then you were forbidden or somewhat insane to actually wash them with other items just by themselves, all free and wild. How many people wasted an entire washer load on just one or two bras for a lack of lingerie bag? Of course they suggest that a pillow case will do in a pinch.
I’ve only had ONE unfortunate bra incident where my favorite green bra became trapped in my mother’s crappy dryer which happened to be falling apart. Lucky for her, the bra died a horrible death so that she could dry her clothes without having a green bra flopping around stuck in the door for the rest of the dryer’s life.
Of course, this doesn’t compare at all to the common sense approach of “How to Dry Pantyhose in a hurry” instructions. This set of instructions assumes that everyone in the world is in possession of a salad spinner.
Not that spinning your pantyhose in the salad spinner is insane enough, the instructions continue by saying: “Hang over towel rack and dry with a hair dryer - warm to cool heat. This should take no more than 5 minutes. Clean your teeth and do your hair at the same time.” Call me silly, but one hand on the hair dryer, the other hand brushing your teeth leaves you with not enough hands to do your hair. I frankly don’t know how nasty a set of pantyhose can get where you couldn’t put them on dirty in a pinch... unless you crapped in them, or course.
I would assume that the Wiki people would at least try to weed out those that had no common sense from posting “how to” guides, but apparently not. Well, I have to go run out and get a damn salad spinner in case I ever need to quickly dry my pantyhose and while I’m there, I’ll get me some lingerie bags to wash my thousands of bras.
I had to check it out, after all it was a link on my google home page and I was bored. Perhaps all these years I’ve been washing my bras wrong, so I figured that I needed to find out the “right” way. I mean there must be more to it than taking bra off, tossing bra into washing machine, taking wet clean bra out of washing machine and throw into dryer. Untangle bra from other items, toss now clean bra into drawer.
Sure enough, the writer of this “how to” suggests all sorts of preparation before the bra even goes into the washer, and even a special bag to put the bra into! Wow, the pictures are very informational and educational too. What cracked me up was the whole inference that if you didn’t have a lingerie bag to put your bras into, then you were forbidden or somewhat insane to actually wash them with other items just by themselves, all free and wild. How many people wasted an entire washer load on just one or two bras for a lack of lingerie bag? Of course they suggest that a pillow case will do in a pinch.
I’ve only had ONE unfortunate bra incident where my favorite green bra became trapped in my mother’s crappy dryer which happened to be falling apart. Lucky for her, the bra died a horrible death so that she could dry her clothes without having a green bra flopping around stuck in the door for the rest of the dryer’s life.
Of course, this doesn’t compare at all to the common sense approach of “How to Dry Pantyhose in a hurry” instructions. This set of instructions assumes that everyone in the world is in possession of a salad spinner.
Not that spinning your pantyhose in the salad spinner is insane enough, the instructions continue by saying: “Hang over towel rack and dry with a hair dryer - warm to cool heat. This should take no more than 5 minutes. Clean your teeth and do your hair at the same time.” Call me silly, but one hand on the hair dryer, the other hand brushing your teeth leaves you with not enough hands to do your hair. I frankly don’t know how nasty a set of pantyhose can get where you couldn’t put them on dirty in a pinch... unless you crapped in them, or course.
I would assume that the Wiki people would at least try to weed out those that had no common sense from posting “how to” guides, but apparently not. Well, I have to go run out and get a damn salad spinner in case I ever need to quickly dry my pantyhose and while I’m there, I’ll get me some lingerie bags to wash my thousands of bras.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Blog Rants you've probably never seen
I have a secret blog (which you'll never find, so don't even bother looking) where I posted some pretty good tales of woe. Since I never post there any more (too difficult keeping track of different usernames, passwords, and whatever) I thought I'd start porting over some of the good material over here. Besides, sometimes I would mention something here that I had posted over there and nobody knows what the hell I'm talking about, and neither do I.
So, based on a facebook rant from one of my friends, here is my take about OTC meds you can make crack from:
Its allergy season, and my allergies are a’ raging. So I go to the local CVS down the road and look for some Zyrtec-D. I have Zyrtec, but I’m so stuffed up I can’t even breathe so I need something to unstuff me.
I recently blogged about the fact that Zyrtec is now much easier to purchase since it went Over The Counter (OTC) meaning I don’t need a prescription for it. Of course, this ease now requires me to pay three times what I use to pay for it. I searched the pharmacy aisle for it and found a little note that said that I have to get the Zyrtec-D at the front counter. Hmm. That’s odd.
What I failed to take into consideration is that the Zyrtec-D contains a nifty little ingredient called pseudoephedrine, which is one of the ingredients used to make Meth. In order to keep people from buying it by the case and dumping it into their bathtubs (along with other vile and disgusting things) and making Meth, most states require that anything containing pseudoephedrine be kept under lock and key and doled out by employees of the pharmacy.
Ok, this seems a bit silly, because if this drug is that potent that it can be used to make an addictive and dangerous drug, shouldn’t be doled out by prescription only? Wouldn’t that solve a lot of the problems with illegal drugs?
Oh, but that wouldn’t make getting it “easy” for those of us with REAL allergies that need the medication. Silly me, I would never consider asking my doctor for a prescription for something that I needed in order to breathe, that would be complicated and difficult. Once again, the bad people do something, and to keep bad people from doing bad, they make new rules and laws that hinder and rip away the rights of law abiding good people. Go figure.
So, I wait in line and when its my turn, I ask the 16 year old girl wearing multiple piercings, tattoos, and hair dyed with green streaks for a pack of Zyrtec-D. Its good to know that such a dangerous drug is being guarded by professionals. She asks for my driver’s license. Um, ok, sure, I’m assuming she’s just checking to make sure that I’m old enough to purchase it, because all meth makers are underage or don’t have driver’s licenses. Oh no, she actually SCANS the barcode on the back of my license. I’m stunned. First of all, what information is on that barcode of my license? Why is she scanning it? Where does that information go? What agency? How secure is their computer system? What happens if someone misuses that information? Why on earth do they even NEED that information?
I’m then required to electronically sign a statement saying that I’ll be personally swallowing this medication myself, I won’t sell it, and I won’t dump it into a bathtub with other chemicals and sell the residue to Meth addicts for profit.
I left there feeling somewhat soiled and guilty, all because I woke up this morning and couldn’t breathe without making a funny noise through my nose.
As I drove home I couldn’t help but kick myself for not grabbing back my license, insisting they purge all information from their computers and take their Zyrtec-d and shove it... well, you get the idea. Now I’m wondering what sort of database I’m on, will I be immediately pulled over by the police and arrested for driving under the influence of Zyrtec-d? Will someone contact my employer to let them know that I’m taking Zyrtec-d? If I try to buy more Zrytec-D before this dose runs out, will SWAT teams break into my house and inspect my bathtub?
Curious, I went home and looked up pseudoephedrine and Maryland on Google, and why, sure enough, a law was passed that requires any store selling anything with pseudoephedrine to safeguard it behind the counter, dole it out one at a time, obtain certain information from the purchaser and have them sign a statement that they will only use it for legal means. Of course there was nothing on there about what recourse I would have as a consumer if CVS sells my information, misuses my information, loses my information, or uses my information for means other than just recording that I have allergies and needed a decongestant.
Its bad enough that store cards are marketed as “ways to get stuff on sale without the use of coupons” actually track everything that you buy and send you coupons for “things you may want on your next purchase”. Dear Ms. Smith: we noticed that on your last shopping trip you purchased some sanitary napkins. Our database has determined that your next menstrual cycle is approaching, so please enjoy these coupons for some New Stay Tight maxi pads, which we feel will fit your body shape better than the last brand that you purchased, and for your particular flow.
I had a sick dog and needed some bland food, so I purchased some baby food for her. A week later I started getting coupons from the store for diapers and more baby food. The I received an announcement flyer stating that I was automatically enrolled in their baby program. I don’t have a baby, I told them, take me off your baby program. They told me they couldn’t. Everything was autogenerated from their massive brainiac computer and stuff was sent out whether you wanted it or not, whether it applied to you or not. I pointed out that Mr. Al Gore would have brain matter spewing out over the fact that companies were killing trees to print out coupons for things that people didn’t want or need, then spewing toxic fuel fumes by having those coupons delivered to my house. They didn’t care. I still get the stuff, and I toss it in with the regular garbage, not the recyclables because if they don’t care, why should I.
You are being tracked, every minute, every second of the day. From navigation systems, to credit cards, to mobile phones, to decongestants, they are watching you... and you’ve done nothing wrong, but they sure do make you feel like you have.
So, based on a facebook rant from one of my friends, here is my take about OTC meds you can make crack from:
Its allergy season, and my allergies are a’ raging. So I go to the local CVS down the road and look for some Zyrtec-D. I have Zyrtec, but I’m so stuffed up I can’t even breathe so I need something to unstuff me.
I recently blogged about the fact that Zyrtec is now much easier to purchase since it went Over The Counter (OTC) meaning I don’t need a prescription for it. Of course, this ease now requires me to pay three times what I use to pay for it. I searched the pharmacy aisle for it and found a little note that said that I have to get the Zyrtec-D at the front counter. Hmm. That’s odd.
What I failed to take into consideration is that the Zyrtec-D contains a nifty little ingredient called pseudoephedrine, which is one of the ingredients used to make Meth. In order to keep people from buying it by the case and dumping it into their bathtubs (along with other vile and disgusting things) and making Meth, most states require that anything containing pseudoephedrine be kept under lock and key and doled out by employees of the pharmacy.
Ok, this seems a bit silly, because if this drug is that potent that it can be used to make an addictive and dangerous drug, shouldn’t be doled out by prescription only? Wouldn’t that solve a lot of the problems with illegal drugs?
Oh, but that wouldn’t make getting it “easy” for those of us with REAL allergies that need the medication. Silly me, I would never consider asking my doctor for a prescription for something that I needed in order to breathe, that would be complicated and difficult. Once again, the bad people do something, and to keep bad people from doing bad, they make new rules and laws that hinder and rip away the rights of law abiding good people. Go figure.
So, I wait in line and when its my turn, I ask the 16 year old girl wearing multiple piercings, tattoos, and hair dyed with green streaks for a pack of Zyrtec-D. Its good to know that such a dangerous drug is being guarded by professionals. She asks for my driver’s license. Um, ok, sure, I’m assuming she’s just checking to make sure that I’m old enough to purchase it, because all meth makers are underage or don’t have driver’s licenses. Oh no, she actually SCANS the barcode on the back of my license. I’m stunned. First of all, what information is on that barcode of my license? Why is she scanning it? Where does that information go? What agency? How secure is their computer system? What happens if someone misuses that information? Why on earth do they even NEED that information?
I’m then required to electronically sign a statement saying that I’ll be personally swallowing this medication myself, I won’t sell it, and I won’t dump it into a bathtub with other chemicals and sell the residue to Meth addicts for profit.
I left there feeling somewhat soiled and guilty, all because I woke up this morning and couldn’t breathe without making a funny noise through my nose.
As I drove home I couldn’t help but kick myself for not grabbing back my license, insisting they purge all information from their computers and take their Zyrtec-d and shove it... well, you get the idea. Now I’m wondering what sort of database I’m on, will I be immediately pulled over by the police and arrested for driving under the influence of Zyrtec-d? Will someone contact my employer to let them know that I’m taking Zyrtec-d? If I try to buy more Zrytec-D before this dose runs out, will SWAT teams break into my house and inspect my bathtub?
Curious, I went home and looked up pseudoephedrine and Maryland on Google, and why, sure enough, a law was passed that requires any store selling anything with pseudoephedrine to safeguard it behind the counter, dole it out one at a time, obtain certain information from the purchaser and have them sign a statement that they will only use it for legal means. Of course there was nothing on there about what recourse I would have as a consumer if CVS sells my information, misuses my information, loses my information, or uses my information for means other than just recording that I have allergies and needed a decongestant.
Its bad enough that store cards are marketed as “ways to get stuff on sale without the use of coupons” actually track everything that you buy and send you coupons for “things you may want on your next purchase”. Dear Ms. Smith: we noticed that on your last shopping trip you purchased some sanitary napkins. Our database has determined that your next menstrual cycle is approaching, so please enjoy these coupons for some New Stay Tight maxi pads, which we feel will fit your body shape better than the last brand that you purchased, and for your particular flow.
I had a sick dog and needed some bland food, so I purchased some baby food for her. A week later I started getting coupons from the store for diapers and more baby food. The I received an announcement flyer stating that I was automatically enrolled in their baby program. I don’t have a baby, I told them, take me off your baby program. They told me they couldn’t. Everything was autogenerated from their massive brainiac computer and stuff was sent out whether you wanted it or not, whether it applied to you or not. I pointed out that Mr. Al Gore would have brain matter spewing out over the fact that companies were killing trees to print out coupons for things that people didn’t want or need, then spewing toxic fuel fumes by having those coupons delivered to my house. They didn’t care. I still get the stuff, and I toss it in with the regular garbage, not the recyclables because if they don’t care, why should I.
You are being tracked, every minute, every second of the day. From navigation systems, to credit cards, to mobile phones, to decongestants, they are watching you... and you’ve done nothing wrong, but they sure do make you feel like you have.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Spambots & Just Plain Spampeople
I love it when I bash something, and the spambots and salespeople start leaving comments to defend their crap.
Apparently my rant on Xylitol in Dilly Bars brought out such a person by the moniker: Musashi. He (I'm assuming from his profile) made this comment:
"Xylitol is harmful (not always deadly) to dogs because they digest things differently. In the same sense a dog can scavenge off an animal on the side of the freeway, but if a human were to consume that very same 'meal' then it wouldn't turn out so well either. Dogs go into hypoglycemic shock if they consume too much Xylitol as their livers aren't made to process sugar alcohols. Xylitol has been consumed in Europe since the 1940's and continues to grow in its popularity predominantly due to its dental benefits. More info is available at (deleted because it leads to a stupid site that wants you to buy Xylitol toothpaste)."
Musashi follows someone by the name of Dr. Ellie, who does nothing but shill a Xylitol-based tooth whitener. He also follows a blog that proclaims the "facts" of Xylitol, which (oddly enough) is posted by none other than... Dr. Ellie. I suspect that Musashi is either Dr. Ellie, or spouse of Dr. Ellie, or horrible stalker of Dr. Ellie, either way, I don't care.
Xylitol kills dogs, that's a fact dude. Don't care how, don't care why, dog eats Xylitol, dog dead, that's all I need to know.
He also cites that its been used in Europe since the 40's and has dental benefits... ok, you lost me
there, seriously, had to laugh at that statement because, well, not to be all pompous and anything, but its a fun stereotypical joke to make fun of the teeth of European people since the age of time.
I mean, come on, seriously? So if I want teeth like this ---->
I need to get me some of that Xylitol teeth whitener stuff, right? Screw the dogs, just get me some white teeth like the Europeans, eh?
Go find another blog to stalk Musashi, or at the very least, stop snorting the Xylitol.
By the way, my roadkill deer was most tasty last night, you should try some.
Apparently my rant on Xylitol in Dilly Bars brought out such a person by the moniker: Musashi. He (I'm assuming from his profile) made this comment:
"Xylitol is harmful (not always deadly) to dogs because they digest things differently. In the same sense a dog can scavenge off an animal on the side of the freeway, but if a human were to consume that very same 'meal' then it wouldn't turn out so well either. Dogs go into hypoglycemic shock if they consume too much Xylitol as their livers aren't made to process sugar alcohols. Xylitol has been consumed in Europe since the 1940's and continues to grow in its popularity predominantly due to its dental benefits. More info is available at (deleted because it leads to a stupid site that wants you to buy Xylitol toothpaste)."
Musashi follows someone by the name of Dr. Ellie, who does nothing but shill a Xylitol-based tooth whitener. He also follows a blog that proclaims the "facts" of Xylitol, which (oddly enough) is posted by none other than... Dr. Ellie. I suspect that Musashi is either Dr. Ellie, or spouse of Dr. Ellie, or horrible stalker of Dr. Ellie, either way, I don't care.
Xylitol kills dogs, that's a fact dude. Don't care how, don't care why, dog eats Xylitol, dog dead, that's all I need to know.
He also cites that its been used in Europe since the 40's and has dental benefits... ok, you lost me
there, seriously, had to laugh at that statement because, well, not to be all pompous and anything, but its a fun stereotypical joke to make fun of the teeth of European people since the age of time.I mean, come on, seriously? So if I want teeth like this ---->
I need to get me some of that Xylitol teeth whitener stuff, right? Screw the dogs, just get me some white teeth like the Europeans, eh?
Go find another blog to stalk Musashi, or at the very least, stop snorting the Xylitol.
By the way, my roadkill deer was most tasty last night, you should try some.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Thank You Mom and Dad
Tomorrow is my birthday. I will be... a year older.
My mom sent me homemade cookies, and the recipe to the homemade cookies. That’s a bit bittersweet because it sorta signals that there will be a day when she won’t be around to send me homemade cookies anymore, and she wanted to make sure that I knew how to make them when she’s gone... without actually saying that.
So that started me thinking about what I wanted for my birthday. I’ve never really been into the whole “wait until a special day to get something for yourself or someone you love” because you really never know if you or they will make it to that pre-determined time, so I just generally buy what I want when I want it and randomly send gifts to friends and family when the mood strikes me.
I’d REALLY like my birthday gift to be that the United States regains its sanity and doesn’t pass this craptastic healthcare bill, but I doubt that will happen. It will pass, people won’t get their freebies for 4 years, but the working class will pay through the nose for 4 years, everyone will be disgusted, vote people out of office, only to be replaced with equally if not more corrupted scum and our country will dive into a third world country. Whoot, I’m such a mood lifter, aren’t I?
So, on the eve of our country diving into socialism (yes, I said it, I believe it, and if you post a comment arguing against my belief, or try to convince me otherwise, I will delete your comment, unfriend you, and most likely mock you later on... cuz its my blog), the only thing I could think that I would want for my birthday is this:
Thank you mom and dad!
First of all, thank you for actually having me. Even though I was legitimate, whereas we did the math on my sister and somebody was fooling around unwed, you tricksters, I was planned and probably why I turned out so well... as opposed to my sister.
Thank you for not putting me in a gunny sack and throwing me in a lake, as you constantly threatened to do when I did stupid things.
Thank you for not selling me to the gypsies when I fessed up to masterminding how to remove the toilet paper rolls from the school bathrooms during the great junior high school toilet paper stealing gig. I would like to remind you, I just showed them how to do it and left, they’re the ones caught red handed while I had an alibi (I was at home with you), but yes, I was in cahoots and deserved the grounding.
Thank you for spanking me when I did something to deserve it. You taught me that there were serious consequences to my actions, and those consequences, while painful, could have been deadly to myself or someone else if not put in check.
Thank you for instilling respect and honor in my parents. You listened to me, you told me everything that went on with bills, jobs, what we could and couldn’t afford and why. There was nothing more that I wanted in life than to make you proud of me, and to never hear that I had disappointed you.
Thank you for giving me chores and teaching me that an honest day’s work got an honest day’s wage.
Thank you for being fiscally responsible and not going into debt for the sake of going into debt when we could make do with what we had, even though we didn’t have fancy cars, fancy clothes, or fancy other things, we had family and family was all that mattered, and that charity was for people that REALLY needed it, and handouts were demeaning and ugly.
Thank you for giving me the gene that made me want to right wrongs and help those who couldn’t help themselves.
Thank you for showing me that while we didn’t have much, others had less and those were the ones that needed a hand up once in a while.
Thank you for instilling in me the warm feeling of giving something to someone, be it a hand up, money, a gift, or a hug and not expecting a single thing in return. It truly is the giving and not receiving.
Thank you for telling me that I could do ANYTHING I wanted to do, there were no boundaries or limits, just the ones I placed on myself, which has led me to lead a wonderful life, make a LOT more money than either of you ever have, and all without any college education.
Thank you for sacrificing some of your dreams to give me a good, comfortable life.
Thank you for teaching me that if I wanted something in life, I had to earn it. While it sucked to see others driving their free new cars while I had to borrow the crappy pickup truck that stalled at every intersection, the sense of accomplishment and pride of earning everything I’ve bought with my own money was worth it. Looking back, I still miss that crappy pickup truck.
Thank you for the strange, twisted sense of humor and view of everything in my life. Its made getting through tough times easier (if not more amusing), and has helped me make friendships that have lasted.
To my dad; thank you for my cartooning gene, and your sensitive heart for animals. Thank you for naming me after your first dog. I couldn’t think of a more appropriate namesake. I miss you.
To my mom: thank you for your practicality, frugalness, and utmost devotion to those you love. Thanks for the cookies, and the recipe. When I make them, I’ll always think of you.
My mom sent me homemade cookies, and the recipe to the homemade cookies. That’s a bit bittersweet because it sorta signals that there will be a day when she won’t be around to send me homemade cookies anymore, and she wanted to make sure that I knew how to make them when she’s gone... without actually saying that.
So that started me thinking about what I wanted for my birthday. I’ve never really been into the whole “wait until a special day to get something for yourself or someone you love” because you really never know if you or they will make it to that pre-determined time, so I just generally buy what I want when I want it and randomly send gifts to friends and family when the mood strikes me.
I’d REALLY like my birthday gift to be that the United States regains its sanity and doesn’t pass this craptastic healthcare bill, but I doubt that will happen. It will pass, people won’t get their freebies for 4 years, but the working class will pay through the nose for 4 years, everyone will be disgusted, vote people out of office, only to be replaced with equally if not more corrupted scum and our country will dive into a third world country. Whoot, I’m such a mood lifter, aren’t I?
So, on the eve of our country diving into socialism (yes, I said it, I believe it, and if you post a comment arguing against my belief, or try to convince me otherwise, I will delete your comment, unfriend you, and most likely mock you later on... cuz its my blog), the only thing I could think that I would want for my birthday is this:
Thank you mom and dad!
First of all, thank you for actually having me. Even though I was legitimate, whereas we did the math on my sister and somebody was fooling around unwed, you tricksters, I was planned and probably why I turned out so well... as opposed to my sister.
Thank you for not putting me in a gunny sack and throwing me in a lake, as you constantly threatened to do when I did stupid things.
Thank you for not selling me to the gypsies when I fessed up to masterminding how to remove the toilet paper rolls from the school bathrooms during the great junior high school toilet paper stealing gig. I would like to remind you, I just showed them how to do it and left, they’re the ones caught red handed while I had an alibi (I was at home with you), but yes, I was in cahoots and deserved the grounding.
Thank you for spanking me when I did something to deserve it. You taught me that there were serious consequences to my actions, and those consequences, while painful, could have been deadly to myself or someone else if not put in check.
Thank you for instilling respect and honor in my parents. You listened to me, you told me everything that went on with bills, jobs, what we could and couldn’t afford and why. There was nothing more that I wanted in life than to make you proud of me, and to never hear that I had disappointed you.
Thank you for giving me chores and teaching me that an honest day’s work got an honest day’s wage.
Thank you for being fiscally responsible and not going into debt for the sake of going into debt when we could make do with what we had, even though we didn’t have fancy cars, fancy clothes, or fancy other things, we had family and family was all that mattered, and that charity was for people that REALLY needed it, and handouts were demeaning and ugly.
Thank you for giving me the gene that made me want to right wrongs and help those who couldn’t help themselves.
Thank you for showing me that while we didn’t have much, others had less and those were the ones that needed a hand up once in a while.
Thank you for instilling in me the warm feeling of giving something to someone, be it a hand up, money, a gift, or a hug and not expecting a single thing in return. It truly is the giving and not receiving.
Thank you for telling me that I could do ANYTHING I wanted to do, there were no boundaries or limits, just the ones I placed on myself, which has led me to lead a wonderful life, make a LOT more money than either of you ever have, and all without any college education.
Thank you for sacrificing some of your dreams to give me a good, comfortable life.
Thank you for teaching me that if I wanted something in life, I had to earn it. While it sucked to see others driving their free new cars while I had to borrow the crappy pickup truck that stalled at every intersection, the sense of accomplishment and pride of earning everything I’ve bought with my own money was worth it. Looking back, I still miss that crappy pickup truck.
Thank you for the strange, twisted sense of humor and view of everything in my life. Its made getting through tough times easier (if not more amusing), and has helped me make friendships that have lasted.
To my dad; thank you for my cartooning gene, and your sensitive heart for animals. Thank you for naming me after your first dog. I couldn’t think of a more appropriate namesake. I miss you.
To my mom: thank you for your practicality, frugalness, and utmost devotion to those you love. Thanks for the cookies, and the recipe. When I make them, I’ll always think of you.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
I'm going slightly mad
Friday it was a novelty. Snow. It happens every year here in Merryland, although you wouldn’t be able to tell that by the way that people drive. The moment someone mentions snow on the radio, or someone sees a flake... people immediately aim their cars for ditches, road signs, each other, and chaos ensues.
Luckily I don’t work on Fridays, so I was able to keep up with the shoveling throughout the day after a harrowing trip to the supermarket... where everyone was cramming their carts with supplies for the storm of the century of the millennium and the superbowl.
The problem was going to sleep. Yeah, probably should have stayed up all night shoveling because by the time we woke up, SNOWMAGEDDON!!!! About 2 feet of snow. LOTS of snow, and it was still freakin snowing. It snowed so hard throughout the night that we had thundersnow. That’s nutty.
So, half of Saturday and then most of Sunday hubby and I spent shoveling 2 freakin feet of snow. I even had to go shovel my neighbor’s front door because they were snowed in and couldn’t get out. You would think they would have sent over the hired snow blower they had come around later in the day, but NOOOOOO. See if I ever dig them out.
We managed to free the trucks and drive to... of course, Starbucks, but it was a carnival ride getting there. One lane (if that) on major streets, and one lane (if lucky) on major interstates, and the exits were a nightmare, but we made it... we have priorities.
I made it into work on Monday, although I don’t know why, nobody was there, nothing worked and the only road to work hadn’t seen a plow for 3 years and was a luge ride. I left after half a day and started doing online training stuff.
Tuesday was a no go because the next round of the storm of the century of the millennium or the universe started up and this one is OH SO MUCH MORE FUN! Its officially a “blizzard” thanks to the dumping snow and the pesky 50mph winds. Oh yeah, we’re having a ball. On Wednesday morning I started going out every hour to shovel the drive, and curse the random plow that would come by and block us back in... damn you! Around 3pm I gave up entirely... just forget it, I don’t have enough motrin to keep up all that shoveling.
The whole state is under snow lock-down... no driving or you get arrested. I guess this is to keep people who feel compelled to looky-loo or go to the store for something stupid at a minimum. I have to admit, we’re running low on milk so the latte outlook is bleak... I should have bought a whole gallon, but who would have thought the whole freakin state would be under 4 feet of snow this week.
I shouldn’t complain. We have power (knock on wood), everyone is home and warm, and its pretty... until I have to shovel it again. I have a feeling we aren’t getting out of here until friday.
Could someone in Pennsylvania find that groundhog and strangle him?
Luckily I don’t work on Fridays, so I was able to keep up with the shoveling throughout the day after a harrowing trip to the supermarket... where everyone was cramming their carts with supplies for the storm of the century of the millennium and the superbowl.
The problem was going to sleep. Yeah, probably should have stayed up all night shoveling because by the time we woke up, SNOWMAGEDDON!!!! About 2 feet of snow. LOTS of snow, and it was still freakin snowing. It snowed so hard throughout the night that we had thundersnow. That’s nutty.
So, half of Saturday and then most of Sunday hubby and I spent shoveling 2 freakin feet of snow. I even had to go shovel my neighbor’s front door because they were snowed in and couldn’t get out. You would think they would have sent over the hired snow blower they had come around later in the day, but NOOOOOO. See if I ever dig them out.
We managed to free the trucks and drive to... of course, Starbucks, but it was a carnival ride getting there. One lane (if that) on major streets, and one lane (if lucky) on major interstates, and the exits were a nightmare, but we made it... we have priorities.
I made it into work on Monday, although I don’t know why, nobody was there, nothing worked and the only road to work hadn’t seen a plow for 3 years and was a luge ride. I left after half a day and started doing online training stuff.
Tuesday was a no go because the next round of the storm of the century of the millennium or the universe started up and this one is OH SO MUCH MORE FUN! Its officially a “blizzard” thanks to the dumping snow and the pesky 50mph winds. Oh yeah, we’re having a ball. On Wednesday morning I started going out every hour to shovel the drive, and curse the random plow that would come by and block us back in... damn you! Around 3pm I gave up entirely... just forget it, I don’t have enough motrin to keep up all that shoveling.
The whole state is under snow lock-down... no driving or you get arrested. I guess this is to keep people who feel compelled to looky-loo or go to the store for something stupid at a minimum. I have to admit, we’re running low on milk so the latte outlook is bleak... I should have bought a whole gallon, but who would have thought the whole freakin state would be under 4 feet of snow this week.
I shouldn’t complain. We have power (knock on wood), everyone is home and warm, and its pretty... until I have to shovel it again. I have a feeling we aren’t getting out of here until friday.
Could someone in Pennsylvania find that groundhog and strangle him?
Friday, February 5, 2010
Verizon/MCI hate mail
Apparently calling and yelling TWICE about something isn’t sufficient enough. Note to Verizon customer service people: never give me your company e-mail address, I shall use it:
Actual e-mail:
You may recall that on 19 January 2010 I called and practically yelled at you about issues with my FIOS services and billing. The reason for the yelling is that it was the SECOND time I had to call for the same three issues.
During that call I outlined 3 issues:
1.) Although we had contracted to have FIOS internet, phone, and long distance installed, we were still being billed by MCI and had no FIOS long distance - You bundled my services and transferred me to the Verizon switch-over verification to confirm I wished our business long distance be switched to Verizon from MCI, which I did.
I have just received a "welcome to MCI long distance" package from MCI. I want to confirm that I do indeed have Verizon FIOS long distance so that I can call and yell at MCI again.
2.) I am not receiving any bills. I want to receive paper bills... in the mail... to my business address... I have not received any bills... make this happen.
3.) I cannot access my account online. Despite confirming my login and password, changing my password, performing voodoo rituals and sacrificing chocolate bunnies to the gods, I always get that Verizon is "unable to process my request at this time, please try again later". I'm pretty sure that trying every day for the past two weeks constitutes "trying again" sufficient enough to declare that my account is still irreparably hosed.
So, in a nutshell:
I can't check my account to see who my long distance carrier is.
I can't check my account to see how much I owe your fine company
I can't check my bill to see any of these things because you aren't sending them to me.
I've called about these issues THREE TIMES and still nothing has been done.
Please have someone with some clout in your company explain to me why I should remain a customer of yours, and to assure me that these issues are taken care of.
Actual e-mail:
You may recall that on 19 January 2010 I called and practically yelled at you about issues with my FIOS services and billing. The reason for the yelling is that it was the SECOND time I had to call for the same three issues.
During that call I outlined 3 issues:
1.) Although we had contracted to have FIOS internet, phone, and long distance installed, we were still being billed by MCI and had no FIOS long distance - You bundled my services and transferred me to the Verizon switch-over verification to confirm I wished our business long distance be switched to Verizon from MCI, which I did.
I have just received a "welcome to MCI long distance" package from MCI. I want to confirm that I do indeed have Verizon FIOS long distance so that I can call and yell at MCI again.
2.) I am not receiving any bills. I want to receive paper bills... in the mail... to my business address... I have not received any bills... make this happen.
3.) I cannot access my account online. Despite confirming my login and password, changing my password, performing voodoo rituals and sacrificing chocolate bunnies to the gods, I always get that Verizon is "unable to process my request at this time, please try again later". I'm pretty sure that trying every day for the past two weeks constitutes "trying again" sufficient enough to declare that my account is still irreparably hosed.
So, in a nutshell:
I can't check my account to see who my long distance carrier is.
I can't check my account to see how much I owe your fine company
I can't check my bill to see any of these things because you aren't sending them to me.
I've called about these issues THREE TIMES and still nothing has been done.
Please have someone with some clout in your company explain to me why I should remain a customer of yours, and to assure me that these issues are taken care of.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
I'm Being Stalked
Everywhere I turn, there it is... staring at me... taunting me.
It wants me to buy it, it screams at me to buy it.
I hate you Cole Haan, you suck.
One little ad showing a whole way of life (ripped jeans, comfy shirt, comfy shoes, and THAT BAG!!! It pops up wherever I google, or facebook or read the news online. It stalks me, it knows that I am weak, that eventually I’ll obsess myself into an ulcer at the chance that this could be the “perfect bag” that so eludes me.
I know that if I bought you, you wouldn’t make my job any less tolerable, or my life any less easy. You wouldn’t find me at casual cocktail parties leaning against a wall looking so very cool that caused people to just throw money at me to attend casual cocktail parties to lean against a wall looking cool... or doing anything else other than what I currently do.
I would not exude spirited sophistication. I would most likely resent you after a while, you are so expensive, and I would feel compelled to cram your rich woodbury milled nubuck guts with ramen noodle soup, band-aids, and hands full of pilfered OTC pharmaceuticals from the company medicine cabinet. I would weep when the travel-sized bottle of hand sanitizer (that I only use to pretend that I actually care not to spread germs throughout the land) leaks and ruins your vibrant new color. I would feel guilty for spending so much on your soft unlined construction, enough money to feed a family of 60 in third world countries.
I’m seeking a restraining order against you Cole Haan Raleigh Whipstitch tote.
It wants me to buy it, it screams at me to buy it.
I hate you Cole Haan, you suck.
One little ad showing a whole way of life (ripped jeans, comfy shirt, comfy shoes, and THAT BAG!!! It pops up wherever I google, or facebook or read the news online. It stalks me, it knows that I am weak, that eventually I’ll obsess myself into an ulcer at the chance that this could be the “perfect bag” that so eludes me.
I know that if I bought you, you wouldn’t make my job any less tolerable, or my life any less easy. You wouldn’t find me at casual cocktail parties leaning against a wall looking so very cool that caused people to just throw money at me to attend casual cocktail parties to lean against a wall looking cool... or doing anything else other than what I currently do.
I would not exude spirited sophistication. I would most likely resent you after a while, you are so expensive, and I would feel compelled to cram your rich woodbury milled nubuck guts with ramen noodle soup, band-aids, and hands full of pilfered OTC pharmaceuticals from the company medicine cabinet. I would weep when the travel-sized bottle of hand sanitizer (that I only use to pretend that I actually care not to spread germs throughout the land) leaks and ruins your vibrant new color. I would feel guilty for spending so much on your soft unlined construction, enough money to feed a family of 60 in third world countries.
I’m seeking a restraining order against you Cole Haan Raleigh Whipstitch tote.
Monday, January 25, 2010
You know its going to be a bad day when...
You slather cream rinse in your hair only to discover that you actually slathered Oil of Olay Body wash on your head. There’s really no reason to get dressed and go to work after that, you might as well just go straight back to bed and call it a day.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Why Phone Companies Are Out To Drive Me Insane
I’m pretty sure I’ve ranted about the craptastic phone service before, I just can’t find any of these rants. Until we switched over the Verizon FIOS, every year EVERY STINKIN YEAR our phone lines would die a horrible death. Every year EVERY STINKIN YEAR we’d deal with appointments, technicians not showing up, or showing up at the wrong day/time, and one year we had them forward our calls to my cell phone, except they botched the number and were forwarding all of our calls to a Mitsubishi dealership. I hope they enjoyed all of the telemarketer calls.
Then came FIOS and angels sang from on high, bluebirds landed on our shoulders, rainbows appeared (RAINBOWS, I HATE RAINBOWS... chill out, its a South Park reference), and we had no problems.... or so we thought.
So on thursday I go into work and my work phone is dead. Doornail dead. Voicemail is equally dead. How odd (and peaceful) I figured it was a glitch that would get fixed. Around noon when I needed to call someone, it had become annoying. My officemate’s phone worked. Walking up and down the halls asking I found that it was JUST ME. FINE, I go upstairs to talk to someone and use their phone to call the helpless moron desk. I confirmed my number, confirmed that it was dead so asked that they send me e-mail instead of trying to call me (you shouldn’t have to remind a help desk that if your phone isn’t working, you shouldn’t call there... but the helpless desk is truly helpless), and went about my day without a phone... how special. I figured that when I came in on Monday, it would be fixed.
On Friday I check the mail and there’s a nastygram from MCI (our old long distance carrier) who is informing me that they’ve just cut off my long distance because I didn’t pay them $29 that was way waaaaaay past due. Um... I didn’t know I owed them $29, nobody sent me anything, not even a Christmas card, so how the hell was I suppose to know that I owed them $29, especially since we switched over to FIOS a few months ago, they shouldn’t even be handling my long distance. Of course, the number on the nastygram was closed, so I figured I’d call them on Monday from work.
Just out of curiosity, I went online to Verizon to check my bill... except I couldn’t check my bill or my services or anything, because they told me that my stuff wasn’t available... for some reason. They suggested that I should call them... except they were closed. Fine, I’ll call them on Monday from work as well.
Monday... my work phone is still dead, dead, kaput. Sigh. I walk upstairs to check my e-mail (if you are wondering why I can’t do that from my desk, well, I’m not going into the whole thing that I do, just trust me when I tell you that I can’t check “normal” e-mail from there.) There’s an e-mail from tech support asking me to confirm my phone number... the phone number I confirmed with the help desk minion on thursday... the number that is in all of the corporate address books, pseudo stupid company facebooky-like things, and in my e-mail signature line... same number. I e-mail the person back and confirm its the e-mail, log off, walk downstairs again.
Few hours go by, I go back up and check my e-mail, and there’s a response from tech support. What jack is my phone plugged into. Sigh. Sign off, walk downstairs, look at the jack, walk back upstairs, e-mail the tech support the jack number, log off, walk back downstairs, collapse in exhaustion.
Few hours go by, I go back upstairs, check my e-mail, there’s a response from tech support that says:
Peggy,
It seems that your phone was deactivated by mistake. I’ve reset your password and contacted a support technician to come reactivate it.
Oh... gee... so you are able to deactivate a phone without any sort of owner interaction, but to reactivate a mistakenly deactivated phone, you require a person to come do something... and my name isn’t PEGGY.
I dial in remotely to my voicemail, reset my password, rerecord my lame “I’m ignoring you and won’t return your call anyway, but humor me and leave me a message that I’ll laugh at and ignore” message... ok, its a bit more professional than that, but not by much, and then to my amazement... there’s a voicemail waiting FROM TECH SUPPORT! Some guy mumbles his name, rattles off a number and tells me to call him. I write the number down, dial it.... AND ITS NOT IN SERVICE.
I e-mail the tech support person a rather... nice.... response pointing out that my name isn’t Peggy and by this time I’m VERY angry and they should send the tech straight to my office to fix my phone ASAP as I will be waiting and sharpening some scissors.
I spend the rest of Monday cutting little paper tech support dolls and hacking off their limbs... ok, I just worked, but I thought of cutting little paper tech support dolls and hacking off their limbs. At the end of the day, no tech person. Before I leave, I go upstairs, log into e-mail and respond to tech person with: “Is the tech person coming today, this week, or this month?”
Tuesday morning I get to work, and lo and behold... my phone still isn’t working.
I go upstairs, log into e-mail and there’s a message from the tech person from yesterday saying she’s escalated the problem and I should hear from someone within the hour... except 12 hours have already gone by and my phone still isn’t working. I respond with “I’m still waiting”.
An hour later the tech guy shows up, punches 4 buttons and my phone works. He tells me that he JUST got the help desk e-mail and was scrolling through it thinking “oh man, she’s going to tear them a new one”, because he knows me very well.
Now that my phone worked, I called MCI and said WTF? MCI has been taken over by Verizon, and Verizon was suppose to be my long distance carrier, but apparently they are now Verizon, but still MCI, but not really, and frankly I began to drool with each explanation. I told them that I would just go yell at Verizon, paid them their stupid $29 and hung up, called Verizon.
First of all, I would like to say this to Verizon customer support: It is not a good idea to play the Muzak version of “Wind Beneath My Wings” over and over and over again while irate customers wait for a real person to pick up the phone... I’m just sayin.
I got a technician named “Hope”. Seriously... HOPE! Hope was very nice, and when I told her that I wasn’t getting bills, I couldn’t access my account online, MCI was still my long distance provider, WTF? She proceeded to read off my bill to me... line by line, each individual charge. I DON’T FRICKEN CARE WHAT MY BILL SAYS I CAN READ, I COULD READ IT FOR MYSELF IF YOU WOULD SEND ME ONE!!! Then I went on about global warming, why Keith Olbermann should be hung by his testicles (if he has any) and the annoying hang nail on my left hand until I nearly passed out from not breathing. Luckily I had closed my office door before I dialed. Hope was actually very apologetic (I’m sure she was cutting little paper doll customers as she spoke) and said she would make some adjustments based on all of the trouble I was having. She knocked off the FIOS installation charge, bundled my services into one for cheaper, and gave us faster internet for the lower bundle rate. Sweet.
The last thing she did was transfer me over to the official long distance permission to transfer service from one provider to another person, who asks you to verify information while being recorded, because apparently there is a lot of long distance carrier fraud going on and they have to make you verify everything on a recording... and yet will just tell you a password or PIN just on a whim... whatever.
So, now we have faster internet, a bundled service, didn’t have to pay for installation... how much you wanna bet I still don’t get a bill and can’t log into my account online... I’ll save that for next month.
Then came FIOS and angels sang from on high, bluebirds landed on our shoulders, rainbows appeared (RAINBOWS, I HATE RAINBOWS... chill out, its a South Park reference), and we had no problems.... or so we thought.
So on thursday I go into work and my work phone is dead. Doornail dead. Voicemail is equally dead. How odd (and peaceful) I figured it was a glitch that would get fixed. Around noon when I needed to call someone, it had become annoying. My officemate’s phone worked. Walking up and down the halls asking I found that it was JUST ME. FINE, I go upstairs to talk to someone and use their phone to call the helpless moron desk. I confirmed my number, confirmed that it was dead so asked that they send me e-mail instead of trying to call me (you shouldn’t have to remind a help desk that if your phone isn’t working, you shouldn’t call there... but the helpless desk is truly helpless), and went about my day without a phone... how special. I figured that when I came in on Monday, it would be fixed.
On Friday I check the mail and there’s a nastygram from MCI (our old long distance carrier) who is informing me that they’ve just cut off my long distance because I didn’t pay them $29 that was way waaaaaay past due. Um... I didn’t know I owed them $29, nobody sent me anything, not even a Christmas card, so how the hell was I suppose to know that I owed them $29, especially since we switched over to FIOS a few months ago, they shouldn’t even be handling my long distance. Of course, the number on the nastygram was closed, so I figured I’d call them on Monday from work.
Just out of curiosity, I went online to Verizon to check my bill... except I couldn’t check my bill or my services or anything, because they told me that my stuff wasn’t available... for some reason. They suggested that I should call them... except they were closed. Fine, I’ll call them on Monday from work as well.
Monday... my work phone is still dead, dead, kaput. Sigh. I walk upstairs to check my e-mail (if you are wondering why I can’t do that from my desk, well, I’m not going into the whole thing that I do, just trust me when I tell you that I can’t check “normal” e-mail from there.) There’s an e-mail from tech support asking me to confirm my phone number... the phone number I confirmed with the help desk minion on thursday... the number that is in all of the corporate address books, pseudo stupid company facebooky-like things, and in my e-mail signature line... same number. I e-mail the person back and confirm its the e-mail, log off, walk downstairs again.
Few hours go by, I go back up and check my e-mail, and there’s a response from tech support. What jack is my phone plugged into. Sigh. Sign off, walk downstairs, look at the jack, walk back upstairs, e-mail the tech support the jack number, log off, walk back downstairs, collapse in exhaustion.
Few hours go by, I go back upstairs, check my e-mail, there’s a response from tech support that says:
Peggy,
It seems that your phone was deactivated by mistake. I’ve reset your password and contacted a support technician to come reactivate it.
Oh... gee... so you are able to deactivate a phone without any sort of owner interaction, but to reactivate a mistakenly deactivated phone, you require a person to come do something... and my name isn’t PEGGY.
I dial in remotely to my voicemail, reset my password, rerecord my lame “I’m ignoring you and won’t return your call anyway, but humor me and leave me a message that I’ll laugh at and ignore” message... ok, its a bit more professional than that, but not by much, and then to my amazement... there’s a voicemail waiting FROM TECH SUPPORT! Some guy mumbles his name, rattles off a number and tells me to call him. I write the number down, dial it.... AND ITS NOT IN SERVICE.
I e-mail the tech support person a rather... nice.... response pointing out that my name isn’t Peggy and by this time I’m VERY angry and they should send the tech straight to my office to fix my phone ASAP as I will be waiting and sharpening some scissors.
I spend the rest of Monday cutting little paper tech support dolls and hacking off their limbs... ok, I just worked, but I thought of cutting little paper tech support dolls and hacking off their limbs. At the end of the day, no tech person. Before I leave, I go upstairs, log into e-mail and respond to tech person with: “Is the tech person coming today, this week, or this month?”
Tuesday morning I get to work, and lo and behold... my phone still isn’t working.
I go upstairs, log into e-mail and there’s a message from the tech person from yesterday saying she’s escalated the problem and I should hear from someone within the hour... except 12 hours have already gone by and my phone still isn’t working. I respond with “I’m still waiting”.
An hour later the tech guy shows up, punches 4 buttons and my phone works. He tells me that he JUST got the help desk e-mail and was scrolling through it thinking “oh man, she’s going to tear them a new one”, because he knows me very well.
Now that my phone worked, I called MCI and said WTF? MCI has been taken over by Verizon, and Verizon was suppose to be my long distance carrier, but apparently they are now Verizon, but still MCI, but not really, and frankly I began to drool with each explanation. I told them that I would just go yell at Verizon, paid them their stupid $29 and hung up, called Verizon.
First of all, I would like to say this to Verizon customer support: It is not a good idea to play the Muzak version of “Wind Beneath My Wings” over and over and over again while irate customers wait for a real person to pick up the phone... I’m just sayin.
I got a technician named “Hope”. Seriously... HOPE! Hope was very nice, and when I told her that I wasn’t getting bills, I couldn’t access my account online, MCI was still my long distance provider, WTF? She proceeded to read off my bill to me... line by line, each individual charge. I DON’T FRICKEN CARE WHAT MY BILL SAYS I CAN READ, I COULD READ IT FOR MYSELF IF YOU WOULD SEND ME ONE!!! Then I went on about global warming, why Keith Olbermann should be hung by his testicles (if he has any) and the annoying hang nail on my left hand until I nearly passed out from not breathing. Luckily I had closed my office door before I dialed. Hope was actually very apologetic (I’m sure she was cutting little paper doll customers as she spoke) and said she would make some adjustments based on all of the trouble I was having. She knocked off the FIOS installation charge, bundled my services into one for cheaper, and gave us faster internet for the lower bundle rate. Sweet.
The last thing she did was transfer me over to the official long distance permission to transfer service from one provider to another person, who asks you to verify information while being recorded, because apparently there is a lot of long distance carrier fraud going on and they have to make you verify everything on a recording... and yet will just tell you a password or PIN just on a whim... whatever.
So, now we have faster internet, a bundled service, didn’t have to pay for installation... how much you wanna bet I still don’t get a bill and can’t log into my account online... I’ll save that for next month.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
My First 2010 Rant
First of all, I would like to announce that I will be pronouncing it Twenty-Ten, just because Two Thousand Ten has more syllables and is annoying. That doesn’t mean that I will mock you if you decide to go with Two Thousand Ten, but others may, so be warned.
Speaking of annoying, I would like to ask that our new Government Health Care system include therapy for those of us who are scared shitless by opening those annoying popping crescent roll containers. Oh you know which ones I’m talking about, and I’m sure the Pillsbury people that load those suckers do so while giggling and picturing people losing fingers or crapping their pants when they somehow make it explode like an errant IED, globs of dough spraying all over. To the butthead that sucked the air out of the “Grands” roll to create a lethal weapon that I opened the other day... YOU SUCK! (btw, that tale about the exploding roll can and the woman “holding her brains” is an urban legend... sorry to burst your bubble)
On another annoying fronts, I’m intrigued by the saga of the Asian Carp. Apparently these are the big fish that are taking over the world and love to leap out of the water and attack people on boats. There’s a war being waged to keep them from swimming up the Mississippi (and yes, I still do that grade school thing to spell that state correctly, so do you and you probably also do that whole knuckles on what month have 31 days thing, so shut up) because they will eat the other fish out of house and home and food.
But if you read the article, it seems that that’s not the only reason why they “aren’t good”. They have small mouths and don’t like to eat worms on hooks, therefore they’ll kill the recreational fishing industry (those who sell worms and fishing licenses because the damn things just jump in boats on their own). This has caused Federal and State officials to do whatever they can to keep the migrating fish from going any farther. Um, we can’t keep illegals out of the country, let alone fish, so I’m guessing this will be another expensive boondoggle that costs taxpayers and will fail.
So, why aren’t we eating these things? Aren’t there starving people all over the world that wouldn’t mind having a tasty bony fish? Of course they would, but we won’t eat them here because they’re CARP! Apparently “we” don’t eat carp, even though the rest of the world does, so why aren’t we exporting these things and making some money from them? Apparently some fishermen have started doing that, and are making good money from it... that’s how we adapt you see... unlike the Liberal Darwin lemmings who think that we have to keep everything the way it is by shutting off water to farmers in California to save a little fish, or spend a gazillion to stop the natural progression of Asian Carp. It seems that those who believe in Darwin (natural selection, survival of the fittest) don’t believe that species can do that by themselves and need “man” to help them survive, missing the whole point entirely. But that’s a whole nother rant about the godless who believe themselves to be god, and for another time.
So, lets rename the stupid things to something tasty sounding... like River Kittens (PETA would approve of that), or better yet: Mississippi Filet. Come on, good marketing made the Talipia (a poop eating bottom feeder) into the haute cuisine of 2009, we can do the same for Asian Carp.
Speaking of annoying, I would like to ask that our new Government Health Care system include therapy for those of us who are scared shitless by opening those annoying popping crescent roll containers. Oh you know which ones I’m talking about, and I’m sure the Pillsbury people that load those suckers do so while giggling and picturing people losing fingers or crapping their pants when they somehow make it explode like an errant IED, globs of dough spraying all over. To the butthead that sucked the air out of the “Grands” roll to create a lethal weapon that I opened the other day... YOU SUCK! (btw, that tale about the exploding roll can and the woman “holding her brains” is an urban legend... sorry to burst your bubble)
On another annoying fronts, I’m intrigued by the saga of the Asian Carp. Apparently these are the big fish that are taking over the world and love to leap out of the water and attack people on boats. There’s a war being waged to keep them from swimming up the Mississippi (and yes, I still do that grade school thing to spell that state correctly, so do you and you probably also do that whole knuckles on what month have 31 days thing, so shut up) because they will eat the other fish out of house and home and food.
But if you read the article, it seems that that’s not the only reason why they “aren’t good”. They have small mouths and don’t like to eat worms on hooks, therefore they’ll kill the recreational fishing industry (those who sell worms and fishing licenses because the damn things just jump in boats on their own). This has caused Federal and State officials to do whatever they can to keep the migrating fish from going any farther. Um, we can’t keep illegals out of the country, let alone fish, so I’m guessing this will be another expensive boondoggle that costs taxpayers and will fail.
So, why aren’t we eating these things? Aren’t there starving people all over the world that wouldn’t mind having a tasty bony fish? Of course they would, but we won’t eat them here because they’re CARP! Apparently “we” don’t eat carp, even though the rest of the world does, so why aren’t we exporting these things and making some money from them? Apparently some fishermen have started doing that, and are making good money from it... that’s how we adapt you see... unlike the Liberal Darwin lemmings who think that we have to keep everything the way it is by shutting off water to farmers in California to save a little fish, or spend a gazillion to stop the natural progression of Asian Carp. It seems that those who believe in Darwin (natural selection, survival of the fittest) don’t believe that species can do that by themselves and need “man” to help them survive, missing the whole point entirely. But that’s a whole nother rant about the godless who believe themselves to be god, and for another time.
So, lets rename the stupid things to something tasty sounding... like River Kittens (PETA would approve of that), or better yet: Mississippi Filet. Come on, good marketing made the Talipia (a poop eating bottom feeder) into the haute cuisine of 2009, we can do the same for Asian Carp.
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