Yes, I Ate It. No, I Don't Know Why.

Sometimes I do really stupid things. I know that seems very unlike me. From everything I've written here, I'm a solid decision-maker. But every now and then I just do things or eat things that are questionable.

For instance, when I lived in Seattle, I found myself at my neighborhood grocery store. Not knowing what I wanted to buy, I wandered around. While in the fancy cheese section, I noticed a small container in the middle of the sea of cheese. Now, it didn't say that it was a sample, but I felt like it surely must have been. To the best of my knowledge, the QFC never gave out samples, but maybe they changed that. Maybe they DO give out samples, and this MUST have been one. Why not? Since I wasn't positive about the actual purpose of this container, I looked around to make sure no one was watching me. Opened it up, and popped a piece of crunchy, black speckled cheese (and yes, the appearance SHOULD have been a red flag, not to mention the smell and texture). As I quickly evacuated the section and rushed down the cereal aisle, the true flavor of the rotten cheese came through. It was nothing short of terrible. I didn't know what to do, so I just swallowed it and suffered through the self-induced nausea. I'm still not sure what it was, and I'm also not sure if it was actually a sample. If it was a sample, it's one that was there for about a decade. Nasty.

Another time I was cat-sitting, and my friends left out quite a bit of food for me. It was just after the holidays, so there was plenty of homemade candy and whatnot. One day I was there, and my co-cat sitter left me a note urging me to try the chocolate covered toffee. Not one to pass up a good treat, I opened the bag and noticed that the toffee was covered in white fuzz. Suspicious, yet still willing, I sniffed it and put it in my mouth. Do I need to tell you that it was totally disgusting? I spit out what I could, but still wanted to believe that the white fuzz was just a special kind of powdered sugar. That taste didn't leave my mouth for hours. The next time I went to check on the cat, I noticed that the toffee was gone and my co-cat sitter left me a note telling me that she tossed it out because it was moldy. Yes, I am that gross.

And the first place trophy goes to.... One year I went to a New Year's Party, and I just didn't know what I wanted to drink. While looking over the bar I noticed a small bottle of cranberry juice, so I decided to mix some sort of concoction with it. The juice was brown, smelled bad, and tasted worse. I mixed my drink, which was awful, and drank it. It took me awhile because it tasted so bad. Thinking that I chose the wrong mix of alcohol and juice, I added more cranberry juice to my next drink. Still disgusting. Other people tried it and agreed. I still drank it. Later on, I moved to something else, and ended the party in the bathroom. The next day I spent on the couch and in the bathroom. That night, I had dinner with the party hosts, and they told me a little story. One of my fellow party-goers opened up the cranberry juice (after I mixed my drinks) and informed the party host that the cranberry juice was rancid. Furthermore, the party host revealed to me that he found the cranberry juice in the back of his refrigerator and didn't remember buying it, so he thought it may have been in there for 3 or more years. And I drank it.

Gross.

Heaven Needs to Lose an Angel

Well, friends, the Phonies saga continues.  Yesterday I received BOTH phones (the soon-to-be returned one and the new one from my new carrier, who will be referred to as "Heaven" henceforth).

Where to begin?  Let's see, both of the phones came to my door yesterday, and I started by calling Heaven to make sure the phone was activated and ask a couple of questions.  Things were going swimmingly.  My representative was really jazzed to talk to me.  He was "totally" able to help me with his "awesome" service.  We discussed his hopes and dreams of starting a film-related business.  Specifically, he wants to set up a store that sells used movies.  Now, I know what you're thinking...don't independent record stores already do that, and isn't the used DVD business what's been keeping them afloat for the past few years since CD sales are declining?  And if you want to buy used DVDs online, can't you just go through Amazon, Half.com, or any number of other websites?  Well, yes.  That's true, but his idea is "totally" innovative (mostly because he apparently lives in the middle of nowhere and only has access to Best Buy for DVDs...I'm just guessing here).  I chose not to burst his bubble.  He was just too darn nice and eager to help me.

He was my third EXCELLENT angel (which is how I will now refer to Heaven's little helpers/representatives).  All of my questions were getting answered.  He upgraded my service to my exact wishes.  I couldn't have asked for a better experience.  Then, I asked whether they had a discount program for employees of certain companies (because I recently learned from Phonies that my company DOES have discounts set up with wireless providers).  He was "totally" thrilled to help me.  Apparently, I DID qualify, but he was unable to sign me up.  So, he transferred me to someone else.

I honestly had such high hopes for this new angel, but it looks like 1 in 4 angels is the devil in disguise.  Here's how it all went down:

Me: Hi, I just opened up service with Heaven, and I was wondering if you have a discount for employees of -insert company name here-.
Bad Angel: Yes, we do.  Now where did you buy your phone?
Me: I got it from -insert 3rd party dealer here-.
BA: (pause) Bfff.  Uhh...Bfff. (Shouting in a very condescending tone.)  Why would you do that?
Me: Excuse me?
BA: Huh...You made a huge mistake there.  Why would you do that?  I would NEVER go to a 3rd party dealer.  I would NEVER direct anyone to a 3rd party dealer.  You just screwed yourself.
Me: I'm sorry.  What?
BA:  There's nothing I can do for you.  You can't get a discount.
Me: Umm...I'm a little confused here.  What are you talking about?
BA: You went to a 3rd party dealer which is the stupidest thing you could possibly do.  You can't do anything.  You basically gave up all of your rights and your access to anything good.  You should NEVER buy from anyone other than Heaven.  You really messed up.
Me: Yeah, still confused.  Why can't I get a discount?
BA: (Still yelling.  Still condescending.  Still sounding like a big, fat loser.) Because you went to a 3rd party dealer, which was a huge mistake.
Me: Okay.  I'm a little lost here.  Instead of reprimanding me for my apparently poor choices, could you just explain the process to me?
BA: Well there's nothing you can do.
Me: Right.  I got that.  Could you just run me through the process of how one might get a discount under normal circumstances?
BA: (Lets out an exasperated sigh.)  Okay.  So what you did was go to a 3rd party dealer which is something I would NEVER do.  I would NEVER direct anyone to a 3rd party dealer.
Me: Yeah.  I'm with you so far.  Can you move past that and answer my question?
BA: What you should have done, and I don't understand why you wouldn't have done this in the first place, is buy the phone from Heaven.
Me: Uh huh.  Still following.
BA: (Sighs again.) See.  Someone from your company makes a deal with Heaven, and we agree to it, and then the employees can get a discount.
Me: I understand that part, hence my talking to you in the first place.
BA: But because (and the yelling starts up again) you went to a 3rd party dealer, you lost your eligibility to get any of the promotional offers that we have.  You couldn't have avoided the activation fee (ed. which I did).  You could have taken advantage of our 1 year contract (ed. not that concerned).  You could have gotten whatever promotional rates we have (ed. which I did get a kick-ass plan that's better than any wireless plan I've ever had in the past).  But you can't get any of that.  You ruined your chances.
Me: Uh huh, yeah.  Still with you.  Why exactly?
BA: Because you are locked into a contract with that 3rd party dealer, and you can't change anything.  If you get the discount, then your service is taken out of their revenue stream, and they'll charge you $300 (ed. Actually, they'll charge me $250 if I try to do something fraudulent, but there was no sense in correcting this sweetheart of a man).  So now you can't get that 10% discount.
Me: (Thinking to self.)  10%?  That's it?  Phonies gave me 25%.  (Quickly calculating the savings on my calculator.)  Whatever.  The phone was free.  I'll forego the $7.50 discount.
BA: (Still yelling.) You should have gone to your company website and clicked on the Heaven link to handle the whole transaction (ed. By the way, there is no such thing on my company website).  You really messed up.  Why would you do that?  You should NEVER go to a 3rd party dealer.  NEVER.  You're going to be really sorry you did that.
Me: Honestly, I'm not that sorry.  I'm sorry that this news is so upsetting to you, though.
BA: There's nothing I can do for you.  You made a huge mistake.
Me: Okay.  Listen.  I've had the worst month of my life trying to deal with cell phone issues.  My last carrier, Phonies, treated me like a piece of shit.  I'm so excited to move over to Heaven, and everyone has been so nice and accomodating....
BA:  I understand that.  I'm sure you've been frustrated.  But you really messed up.
Me: Okay, stop.  I don't think you should take this tone with me.  I'm a new customer regardless of how I chose to purchase my phone and rate plan.  I understand that my hands are tied regarding this discount, but that doesn't really give you the right to be so rude to me.
BA: Well, ma'am.  There's nothing I can do.
Me: Yeah, I got that.  Could you answer another question for me?
BA: Ma'am, I can't answer any questions about your account.  You'll have to call customer service.
Me: Could you transfer me?  They transferred me over here.
BA: I can't do that.  I can just give you the number, and you'll have to call them yourself.
Me: Right.  Thanks.

So, what do you picture when you think of Bad Angel?  I picture a fat loser (not unlike the people that work for AT&T's DSL tech support) who was taunted in high school for being a geek and now takes his rage out on innocent customers that call for help, while hiding behind the anonymity of a phone line.

I really hope that conversation was actually recorded.  That dude needs to be taken down a notch or twelve.  Despite that unpleasant experience, I STILL prefer Heaven to Phonies.

In fact, after that call, I rang up Phonies for our daily chat.  This time I wanted to re-activate my pre-blackberry phone with my old number (that is dead to me for the next month and a half).  My representative didn't know what he was getting into with me.  I was totally prepared with all the serial numbers, and he was quite thrown.  We got it set up, and during that process, he felt it was a good time to ask me what was wrong with the old phone.  Again, he had no idea into what kind of murky waters he was treading.  I simply explained to him that I had trouble with two blackberries and was completely unsatisfied, so I had no choice but to return it.  And then he started in on a little sales pitch.  I immediately stopped him.  My mind is made up.  Luckily he didn't push the issue.

But, come on!  Shouldn't their screen start blinking with rage when I get on the phone?  I call them every day with a complaint...or request to get a revised bill that, for some unknown and asinine reason, is impossible for them to produce.  Shouldn't everyone in that company know by now that there's no saving this customer?  Honestly, I think I've travelled into "We're better off without her" territory.

Whatever.  Still waiting on the return label.  It better get here on Monday.  Time is not on my side, since Phonies is doing everything they can to suck up my 30 day grace period (including telling me everytime that I talk to them that my 30 days expired without even looking at my account).  Jerks.

It's a new day in Heaven though.  The phone actually works in my house.  That's a very exciting change.  Keep your fingers crossed that the blackberry setup is easy on Monday.

And that's the news.

My 200th Episode!

My page has been viewed 200 times.  I am so popular.  Don't look at anybody else's views.  I don't want anyone to upstage me right now.  200.  Wow.

So, tonight I went to the track (in the misty rain) and I ran UNDER a 10 minute mile.  Granted, I didn't run a straight mile, but if I did, I would have run about a 9:15 mile.  Hello?  That's so awesome for me.  I'm so sucky and slow, so this is something to celebrate.  How shall I celebrate, you ask? 

Well...I'm selling my wetsuit.  Yes, I finally found a buyer (and I finally was willing to accept a lower price than what I wanted).  My size small wetsuit (which is best suited for someone shorter and lighter than I have ever been in my adult life) will find a new home in just a matter of minutes.  I bet you're wondering how I got saddled with a wetsuit that was too small.  Well, let's just look at some of the other choices I've made.

How did I end up with 2 different (and equally expensive) blackberries from Phonies when I initially intended to just switch carriers and get a free one?

How did I end up buying a crappy, low-end bike off of some guy in the Sunset for full retail price?

How is it that in the midst of a leisurely Sunday stroll through my neighborhood, I ended up signing a lease on a new apartment and agreed to move in within 2 weeks before finding out the terms of my current lease and ended up paying rent on two places for a month?

How did I end up with a pair of men's size 9 Pumas that were non-returnable?

How is it that I spent one New Year's Eve drinking cocktails (that I mixed) made with rancid cranberry juice even though I noticed that the juice was a) brown, b) smelled bad, and c) tasted terrible....oh, and d) was informed the next day that the party host found the juice in the back of the refrigerator and thinks it may have been there for 3-4 years?

Why do I always do other people's Excel projects when it doesn't pertain to my job at all?

Why do I insist on not getting cable and keeping my 13" TV/VCR combo until it completely stops working?

So?  Do you know the answers?  Sucker, Sucker, Impetuous, Sucker/Cheap, Undiscriminating, Sucker, Cheap/Stubborn.

And where does the wetsuit purchase land among these answers?  Well, I'll have to add a new one.  Vanity/Sucker for Flattery.

I purchased my wetsuit on the night of the Apparel/Gear clinic which featured a 20% discount off of everything but wetsuits.  When it was time to try on wetsuits I knew that I fell in the middle of the Medium and Large sizing, so I asked which suit I should try.  The wetsuit rep suggested trying the Medium.  I put it on, and it seemed to fit.  He kept telling me that it needed to be tight.  Honestly, it felt pretty darn tight, then he told me to put my hand under the collar.  Upon doing this he said, go for the small.  So, I did.  And it fit.  And I felt so flattered by the fact that it actually fit (while completely disregarding the fact that neoprene is really stretchy) that I ended up buying it. 

Immediately upon getting home after a short 2 block walk, I knew I bought the wrong size.  I also knew that I couldn't return it.  So, I wore it to the first Bay swim the next Saturday.  As I walked on the beach, I noticed that my range of motion was severely limited (much like it is in my oddly restrictive jeans).  I went too small.  Convinced that I could somehow lose the 30 pounds it would take to truly fit into the wetsuit, I continued to wear it.  And then, I split the bottom.  A quick trip to the manufacturer and that was fixed.  Then, I split the bottom again.  Apparently the wetsuit wanted nothing to do with my behind.  Occasionally, other swimmers would aid me in zipping it up and comment on how difficult it was.  I didn't want to tell them it's because I'm too big for it, so I just said, "Yeah. Weird, huh?"  One of my friends, who is tiny, told me that even SHE doesn't fit into a small wetsuit.  How did I make this magic happen anyway?

The too small wetsuit did well even though I tortured it with my extra 30 pounds.  I sent it back to the manufacturer for another re-glue, and now...after sitting in my room for a year and a half, it has a new owner.  She's a tiny Asian girl.  Looking at her in the wetsuit, and seeing how tight it was on her, I really wondered how I ever managed to shove my fat ass into that thing.  Miracles DO happen every day.

Hopefully it will serve her well too.

And now I have to go buy another one that will actually fit me...and my blubber.  Keep you fingers crossed that I've learned from my past indiscretions and will make an appropriate, well-researched choice.

And While I'm on the Topic of Laundry...

Let's take a walk down memory lane, shall we?  Let me dazzle you with my tales of being a laundromat menace.

The first tale is a story of it's own that must be told at a later time.  It's called, "8 Quarters".  It's a story of revolution at the Suds on 8th laudromat in Brooklyn, NY.  Since I only have the time it takes to dry my clothes, you'll have to enjoy my San Francisco laundry stories.

Laundry Tale 1: How I flooded the laundromat

A couple years ago, I was doing my laundry, just minding my own business when tragedy struck.  You see, I was new to this laundromat since the one closer to my house closed and became a bank/gym.  So, it was only my second or third visit.  I dutifully placed my clothes int he washer, closed the door, dumped in my laundry detergent, and sunk a few quarters into the machine.  Everything was going swimmingly until I noticed soapy water leaking out of the washer.  That leak became a waterfall in no time, and I had no choice but to disturb the laundry lady.  She came out and was none too pleased with me.  Apparently I was negligent and a sock got stuck in the door.  Whoops.  I kept pacing around offering to help and apologizing, but she wanted none of it.  She put a bucket next to the machine and told me to go away.  So, I did.  I took that time to get some food down the street.  When I returned, the water was mopped up and my clothes were clean...and the laundry lady wasn't smiling.  In fact, she hasn't smiled at me since.

Laundry Tale 2: Clumsy

This story is best told in person because there is quite a bit of physical comedy involved, so we'll see how well it translates to the written word.  One day I was heading over to the laundromat with my grandma cart, and everything was going just fine.  Well, everything except that I was wearing my oddly restrictive jeans (from this point forth, they will be known as "ORJ").  I don't know what it is about ORJ, but they limit my range of motion for no reason in particular (and yes, they are the correct size).  So, I was walking down the street, pushing my cart ahead of me when I got to the intersection in front of the laundromat.  Being that it was 5 o'clock on a Tuesday, there was a wee bit of traffic on the street.  I started into the crosswalk feeling good about the world, when tragedy struck.  The front wheel of my cart got caught in a pothole or train track (I've never deteremined which) and started falling forward.  Unable to stop my momentum, I started falling with it in slow motion.  I swear it took 45 seconds for me to hit the ground.  Now, when I say hit the ground, I mean that the grandma cart hit the ground and I fell on top of it.  So, there I was, in the middle of the crosswalk, surrounded by cars, laying on top of my cart.  Being that I was wearing ORJ and was in an odd position, I was unable to just move my  leg forward and stand up.  No.  Instead, I had to roll off of the cart and tumble onto the street.  Then, I was able to stand up.  It's never embarrassing to land like a cockroach in the middle of the street.  Ever.

Laundry Tale 3: Sudsy Jazz Hands

A few months ago, I had to do my laundry before a trip.  In true form, I waited until the very last minute, so I got to the laundromat two hours before it closed.  Lucky for me, there was a TV.  Once I started my laundry, I decided to turn on the TV and watch it.  Everything was going just fine.  I got in some Top Model, and then the TV stopped working.  I had nothing to do but wait.  In my boredom, I started singing to myself and dancing.  I attempted the Charleston complete with jazz hands and pushed myself through the aisle in one of the laundry carts.  After doing this for a solid 15 minutes, I noticed that I was dancing directly in front of the security camera.  Horrified and embarrassed (since I am persona non grata at the laundromat), I immediiately stopped mid-dance.  Two minutes later I started up again.  It was already recorded, after all (assuming there's actually tape in there).

And those are my tales of being a laundry menace.  Now that I've written them, I think they are best told as a one-woman-show.  So, until I get that up and running, don't expect to read them again anytime soon.

The Neverending Story...

Guess what?  I still don't have a phone!  Yay!  It's really cramping my style.  I have to make full plans before leaving the house and trust that no one's running late.  It's totally awesome living like it's 1992.

So, the phone is somewhere.  I don't know where exactly, and no one seems to have any interest in helping me figure it out...or give me an ETA for that matter.  I'd be lying if I said I wasn't freaking out a little, because I totally am.  What if it was sent to the wrong address?  I'm completely screwed if I don't get the phone back.  I need it.  I need it.  I need it.  I'm returning the stupid thing to Phonies, and I can't return an empty box.

I've also signed up with a new carrier, so the new phone is on its way as well.  Maybe I'll get that sooner than the other one.  Who knows!

Oh, and I worked out a deal with Phonies, so I don't have to pay the cancellation fee...but I do have wait a month and a half to move my current number to the new carrier.  So does everyone know what that means?  I'll tell you.  Don't call me.  More importantly, don't text me.  I basically have no minutes on the phone number, so don't mess with me just to be funny. I will serve you with a bill for any errant text messages.  I mean business.

Was that scary enough?

Good.  No texting.

I can't wait to see how this story unfolds tomorrow (or later today should the Phonies phone arrive....you know, like it was supposed to a few days ago.  Didn't IT Guy tell me he was sending it on Friday to arrive on Friday (which is impossible, but still you'd think I would have received it by now)).

And that's all.  I'm out.  I got nothing.  I'm boring today.  Or maybe I do have something, and I'm just holding back.  Whatever the case, I need to do my laundry.

Back on the Horse

I went on a 40 mile bike ride this morning. That's right, 40 whole miles. I didn't cry or anything! In fact, I chatted with other riders throughout the ride. Oh yeah, I'm nearly a pro now. That rainy day was just hazing. I survived, and now I'm really good. Okay, so I'm still really slow, but I didn't fall of the bike this time (even though I came dangerously close at the very end of the ride when I got to my car).

I did start to wonder how people manage to ride long distances on a bike seat without going totally numb "down there". My seat is "women specific" because the original saddle was horrendously awful, and I was afraid that I'd accidentally give myself that procedure that people learn about in Cultural Anthropology 101...you know, the one given to women in some tribal cultures in Africa. Do I really need to say it?

Regardless of the fact that my seat includes a c--- slit, it's still not like sitting around on my couch (which is almost always comfortable, unless I sit there too long and my skin grows into the fabric like on that episode of Nip/Tuck with Big Mama). I would go as far as saying that yesterday's self-improvement project of getting the hair RIPPED from my legs was less painful/uncomfortable than sitting on my bike seat for 3 hours. I suppose the reason for that is that my legs endured the pain for a total of 30 minutes, and the actual "pain" only lasts about 2 seconds per rip. But still, if you've ever had the hair ripped off of the front of your ankles, you know that the 2 seconds of pain is worth a whimper.

So how do people do this? Is this why girls don't ride bikes as avidly as boys? And what about the boys? They have special seats too, so there must be something to whine about.

Maybe Dr. Scholl's should make gel seats like their gel insoles. Then my naughty bits would be gellin' like Magellon, too.

My Favorite Blog

Just a quick tip.  My favorite blog is www.jennsylvania.com

Her blog also appears on her MySpace page.  I've read both of her books, and I love them.  Her next book comes out this spring, and I plan to meet her at her book signing in a couple months.  Yay!

She's my hero.

I just thought I'd give you some more options, should I not be an avid blogger on any given day.

 

Oh, and I'd also like to update everyone on the status of my Phonies Throwdown Training.  While I was driving over the bridge, I role-played that I was on the phone with Phonies trying to cancel my service.  I made all of my demands very clear.  There was quite a bit of screaming involved.  I'm going to be ready on Monday when I finally get out of this cult.  I'll be fully deprogrammed.  Mark my words!

Stay tuned...