CafeChatNoir

I’m starting to think that I must have been running around drop kicking puppies into vats of boiling oil in a past life given how this week has gone.

Monday morning, I woke up feeling great.  Optimistic.  Good about life.  I’d had a great weekend that had run the gamut from hot nerd talk on Friday to a massage on Sunday.  School is done, feeling good, gonna get caught up on everything I ignored over the course of the school year, summer is going to be great, get some good mo going into the fall, get shit on track.  Life is good.

Well, the Universe overheard me and she started laughing hysterically, did a shot of absinthe and said, “Well, I have my work cut out for me this week.”

Monday was fine enough, had some trouble getting my brain to shut off long enough to get anything else done, but not too bad.  Tuesday I managed to walk into a box in the living room with a rather spectacular amount of velocity resulting in a nicely damaged foot.  (No running for me this week!)  Wednesday ended up being dedicated more to reading than anything else, cause damn, I did a number on that foot.

Then yesterday happened.  Managed to get things done, but not without some fun and games.  The dryer died.  With a load of wet towels in it.  Not a showstopper dammit, repairman coming out today.  Then a couple hours later I had a filling fall out.  Awesome!!  And then – just to round out the day properly – I left my jacket at the pool hall last night…

I suspect there is a lesson about keeping expectations low in here somewhere, but I refuse to acknowledge it.

So, last week I got a call that a care conference was on for my grandmother – Sharyn had a couple issues she wanted to make sure were addressed.  Nothing earth shattering and frankly, I’m just happy my grandmother is no longer calling me at 3AM so I’m more “Eh, if she hasn’t broken another bone, we’re good.”  (Note to all: You really, REALLY should be good to your kids and grandkids.  They will be choosing your nursing home, and may or may not be checking up on you.)

Called back, confirmed time, spoke with woman who coordinates it to make sure she had my phone number and understood that though Sharyn would be there, they would have to call me because I am 2,000 miles away.

“And who are you again?”
OMFG.
“I’m the one with the MEDICAL POWER OF ATTORNEY.”
“Oh, OK.”

So, I take myself out of the lineup today so I can be here to take the call and pretend like I’m terribly interested in this.  (Even though I’m not super interested in the details, I *do* need to know what’s going on.  Even though I get tons of info from Sharyn, I want to hear exactly how they react when she says she sees something she doesn’t like.)

Well, 2PM comes and goes.  45 minutes later Sharyn calls, says it went fine.  Um, what?  She didn’t realize I had told them to call me.  So I’m furious at the idiots at the care center, she feels bad (told her sure as hell wasn’t her fault) and I’m ready to punch someone.  I decided to cool off a bit before calling the care center and asking exactly what type of brain damage they are suffering from that they didn’t understand “here is my phone number, call me for the conference” means CALL ME FOR THE DAMN CONFERENCE.

I called, and I still couldn’t tell you what on earth that woman was thinking, other than she apparently wasn’t.  But they have very firm instructions that I am to be included on any other calls, dammit.

Which is pretty good in the grand scheme of things I suppose.  My grandmother greeted my arrival with her usual exuberance of “Oh.” with about the same tone of voice you’d use if someone told you that the IRS was going to audit you.

Tried to open a box at the UPS store so I can use that as her local mailing address and have them forward it to me.  (I want the mailing address to stay in AZ, otherwise I can just see things getting all screwed up as someone, somewhere thinks she is no longer a resident of the state.)  Easy, right?  HA!  We got past the idea that she was going to come in and do this herself after showing them the Power of Attorney.  But – and this still doesn’t seem right to me at all, given the fact that there is a PoA in place – I still have to bring in two forms of her identification, one with a photo.  Well, the photo ID is easy enough, but it’s that second one that is causing some angst.  Just looking at the list gave me a headache as I kept coming up empty, and told the UPS guy that I’d see what I could find  and go back tomorrow.  Here are the acceptable items:

Government issued ID – no problem, got that one covered.
Passport – expired
Alien Registration Card or Certificate of Naturalization – nope
Current lease – owns the condo
Mortgage – paid off years ago
Deed of Trust – nope
Voter registration card – if she has one, I would have even the faintest idea where to look for it
Vehicle registration – no car
Vehicle insurance policy – again, no car
Home insurance policy – YES!  Except it’s back east.  Don’t know why my crystal ball didn’t tell me to put that in my backpack before getting on a plane.

Thought I could get online and print out something from her account, but it doesn’t recognize the policy number.  Great.  So, tomorrow I will go scour the condo to see if there is an old copy of it somewhere that I can take in as another form of ID.

Seriously, not in a million years would I have thought the mere act of opening a mailbox somewhere would be something that would take me multiple days to accomplish, if at all.

But holy hell, once again I am within 48 hours of getting on a plane to PHX and I am in the midst of the galloping crud.  Granted, I should have seen it coming, as I have been spacey as all get out this week – seriously, since about 2PM Tuesday, I couldn’t have told you what day of the week it was without consulting a calendar.*  This is invariably the precursor to a cold/sinus infection for me, but I never recognize it until it’s too late.

The overly rational part of my brain chalks it all up to unfortunate coincidence and the ridiculous changing of the barometric pressure at this time of year.  The not-quite-as-rational part of my brain says, “Going to PHX is bad for you!” The smartest part of my existence which isn’t even attached to me says – “It’s the anxiety leading up to the trip that does you in.”  That smart part would be my brother trying to assure me I’ve not totally lost my mind.  (If you don’t have a brother to help you out in matters such as these, I highly recommend you get one.  I’m pretty sure there is a category on Craigslist for this.)

Seriously, I can’t remember the last time that I wasn’t sick either when my grandmother visited here, or I visited there.  (Same thing has happened to my brother as well.)  Invariably this has lead to my grandmother being more than happy to tell us that we were weak, lazy & pathetic and got sick on purpose just to get attention.  Yes, because I’d so much rather feel like total crap and have people saying, “Would you like a Ginger Ale?” than just happily going about my business without desperately needing to sleep for 24 hours straight.

Damned if I know why my body decides to betray me this way, but I’m very much over it all.  Seriously, I’m staying at a nice hotel with a pool and everything – I’d like to take advantage of it rather than sleep every hour I’m not at the care center…

*No matter how broken my grandmother’s brain may be, I never have and never will fault her for not knowing the date or day of the week without looking at the calendar.

Not too long ago, I was shopping online and they wouldn’t take my card unless I used Verified by Visa.  A quick Google search indicated that it was a very legitimate extra layer and not terribly onerous level of protection for online transactions.  (Endorsed by my Credit Union to boot.)  It’s no big deal, just an extra password at checkout – I can certainly do that. Honestly, if someone is using my VbV password, they also have to have my card in hand and also know my CVV number.  So, great!  Because honestly, if you have to put in your CC info, AND the CVV number, AND a password – it’s either legit, or someone has stolen your wallet and your laptop and/or knows your password.

Honestly, if you do a VbV transaction, that right there should be some indication of legitimacy of the transaction, and in theory it should save you a shitload of hassle if you have a shopping spree day.  Except that it seems that it doesn’t.

I had two trips to book today through Travelocity.com.  First was to Phoenix to do a “holy crap, we didn’t think her grandchildren would show up again until December!” visit to have eyes on the care centre, and the second to Las Vegas.  Phoenix went through (with VbV) with no issues.  Vegas?  (Again w/VbV) Not so much -  but with a caveat that some debit cards had a daily spending limit and it could be as simple and innocent as that.  It wasn’t until I tried to hit the ATM this evening that I discovered that my card was full on shut down.

I worked fraud prevention at a bank.  I get it.  However, when you or your automated systsem suspects fraud, the first thing that should happen is a call to the cardholder to verify charges – NOT simply shutting down the card with no notice or verification.

So, I’ve got a busted card and a system that thinks I’m making fraudulent charges, DESPITE using their enhanced security systsem.

WTF.

Yeah, I’ll be talking to PFCU tomorrow and I will spare the CSR that answers the call my annoyances and will ask to be transferred directly to fraud prevention – hopefully I’ll be slightly less peeved and won’t unleash the level of annoyance that I’m feeling right now.

First, I overslept. While you are asking, “How does a degenerate beach bum oversleep?” well yes, it can happen. Some of us like to be up and at least mildly alert when the market opens. That did not happen this morning – plus I was extra distracted by wacky dreams, so I was mildly annoyed just coming out of the gates.

Then, it took FOUR calls to Sears to get a human being to confirm delivery of my new fridge tomorrow. While their voice automated system happily parroted back everything I said, it had an unfortunate tendency to disconnect halfway through the call. Once I got to a REAL lady on the other end of the line, I found that they had not finalized the delivery schedule for 8/18/2010. Yippee… However, to their credit, their “tomorrow’s delivery announcement” call did arrive and in theory my fridge will be here between 11:15 and 1:15 tomorrow. (Donald says 4:00PM. But I have faith.)

Last night, my awesome little brother noticed a burned-out taillight on my car. It’s inspection month anyway, so – problem solved by getting the car inspected! I even told them about the light when I dropped it off for the inspection & oil change. I missed the “Your car is ready!” voicemail by TWO HOURS, but the message didn’t say “respond or we torch your car” so I think they were OK with my tardy response. I then picked up the car with the the same burned out taillight that I left at the shop. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. Bonus: got the light fixed for free. Oh, and the “recommended ‘mini’ tune-up – yeah, they didn’t have the “right” spark plugs for my Jeep.

Missed the alarm on my phone to send my friend M a reminder text. I am quite certain the alarm went off, but I either missed it or was so distracted by everything else going sideways that it didn’t register.

I’ve also spent more than a few minutes sanding down my bamboo knitting needles, cause Carmen thought they were SPECTACULAR chew toys. (She doesn’t understand that the spectacularly wonderful binkie she had in the shelter came off MY knitting needles.)

Then I saw the weather report for tomorrow: I can condense it to: Monsoon. During which time my fridge will be delivered. Said fridge which has to go through the side yard and backyard to the back door to fit inside my house. The delivery men are going to HATE me. Oh, and Lily decided it would be great to explore the Great Outdoors while I attempted to measure the front (not quite wide enough) door!

All I ask is for tomorrow to be really, really quiet and uneventful.

If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was trying to say, “Go home.”

I cannot relax. Seriously. My companions are great, the food is spectacular and the water is awesome, but I *cannot* relax.

If this were a one week stay and we were leaving on Friday, I’d go ahead and pack it in now, because I can be this tense at home. I can only guess it is a confluence of many small things because I can’t put my finger on any one big thing, and I’m finding it very difficult to enjoy myself because I just can’t shake this underlying, unidentifiable stress.

Friday morning Carmen had a (quite literal) massive hissy fit upon being dropped off at the kennel. (What idiot doesn’t know to leave the cat in the crate until the cat is ready to come out of the crate on its own? Oh – that would be me. I don’t know WHAT I was thinking.) However, her scaling the front of the 6′ bank of “suites” and installing herself in a kitty cube at the top was tactically impressive. Always go for the high ground. I did speak to the kennel later and they said she’d calmed down and both had eaten dinner enthisiastically and they were both fine if “a bit reserved” – reserved still being better than hissing at everyone that comes within 2 feet.

No cell reception for anyone in the house. Last year we were on the cusp, and this year the trees have grown just enough to knock it out altogether. Purchased internet seems to be working for others, but very slow & sketchy at best for me – I am not one that needs to be connected 24/7, but some level of access to the rest of the world is nice, and there are some internet based services I will need to use over the course of two weeks. (And it seems to work best when I enable wi-fi on my phone and then tether that to the laptop – I really don’t think that should work better, but it does.) This after my laptop decided to puke all over itself on Saturday and simply decide to not work properly. I got it going again, but I still have no idea what went wrong in the first place.

Massive insomnia 2 out of 4 nights, that I cannot ascribe to anything other than an inability to turn my brain off.

Thunderstorms Saturday and today, which is leaving the dog decidedly unimpressed with beach life.

I guess the phone ringing off the hook 24/7 the last two years down here just blocked out all the other little annoyances. Or maybe I have just never really mastered the art of relaxing – it never was one of my strong points. But I can’t say I really relish the idea of always being tense until I die…

Not all my stuff, but I have noticed lately that there are certain items in my life that seem to simply disappear. Some reappear in spades after replacement, but not all. I will admit to being more than a tad stymied by it all.

1. Mini Mag Lites. Every July I go and buy 4 Mini Mag Lites for the beach trip. It’s the middle of summer, thunderstorms and power outages happen, and if you’re in an unfamiliar house, it’s nice to have a little flashlight on the nightstand should you wake in the middle of the night and have to make your way to the bathroom without breaking an ankle. (I do try to be the hostess with the mostest.) We go to the beach with 4 little flashlights and come home with 4 flashlights in the Beach Equipment Box. By Christmas, I am lucky if there are still two of these flashlights in the box or the pencil holder on the kitchen desk. By March I am usually down to one flashlight and both bulbs have burned out on it…

This begs the question – where the hell did the other 3 flashlights go? In theory, they should turn up in various places about the house as I go about my day to day business. Except that they don’t. If I ever move out of here, I am quite certain I am going to find some sort of packrat nest that has about 20 Mini Mag Lites in it.

2. Hex keys. Given all the various and sundry things I have purchased from Ikea over the years, I should have at least 3 of every size and shape of hex key available. And yet, I have none. (And right now, I need some.)

3. Hair clips. These do a disappearing and reappearing act. As soon as I am down to one of these spring loaded barrettes, I go snag another 3 pack of them at the drug store. And a week later, I find I have a dozen of them.

4. Fluffy black socks. A few weeks into the fall, it’s always the same thing. I find I have 4 pairs of fluffy black socks to wear with my Timberlands. I check the pending laundry – no fluffy black socks. I hit Kohls, get a six pack of socks, and three days later, I will do a load of laundry and there are 10 pairs of fluffy black socks in it… The upside is that I won’t run out of socks for near three weeks, but seriously – WHERE WERE MY SOCKS????

I’d blame the cats, but this has been going on for too long, and even during the year I was catless. (I can’t blame the dog, he’s not much into the ‘taking stuff and hiding it’ games.)

Well over 50% of the underlying issues with last night’s insomnia was the fact that I could not shut my brain off, and tonight, I feel like I’m right in the same place.

Part of the reason I’m not feeling particularly optimistic about the sweet escape to dreamland is that my brain has been going about 150MPH all day today, and it’s only gotten worse as the day has progressed into the evening. It’s been a day where every self-doubt, every question of choices made, and the rest of my mental flotsam and jetsam has decided to come bubbling up to the surface.

I was talking with a friend earlier about a mutual friend who had gone off and tried something new and potentially terrifying. Granted, it was a no-lose situation, but he went outside his comfort zone to do it. And we were both proud of him for the attempt, regardless of the outcome.

There was a time where I told The Universe, “Bring it on!!” Which she did, in spades. (Yeah, tempting Fate in the first place ain’t the greatest idea.)

But she’s winged about as much as she could at my head, and I’ve managed to survive it.

However, it’s left me ridiculously gun-shy. And I really hate that I’ve become a rather timid person for it – for no other reason that I’m tired of the fact that the Fates decided to have a psychotic break while cutting my strings.

But I just don’t want to discover that The Universe has more fun and games in store for me. I’ve had enough at this point, thankyouverymuch.

When you can’t convince yourself that anything new won’t end in spectacular disaster, it’s hard to psych yourself up for anything new and outside your comfort zone.

It’s quite an annoying spot to find yourself in.

I am one of those incredibly lucky people who rarely has insomnia.  I go to bed and I am out within 15 minutes.  It’s a wonderful thing.

And then that bitch of insomnia shows up last night.  I had a great plan – I was going to go to bed early, get a great night’s sleep, get up and conquer the world today.  The fact that I am talking about it likely indicates that it didn’t work out.

First, I stayed up WAY too late being a couch potato and watching TV.  Which in and of itself isn’t the worst thing in the world, but I was mildly annoyed with the fact that I’d not been paying a whit of attention to the time and turned off the TV at 3AM.

Went to bed, nice and tired, and could NOT fall asleep.  I’d start to drift off, and then I’d hear a noise.  Or some random thought would pop in my head.  Or Lily would be jumping up on the high boy again (which she knows she isn’t allowed to do) and I’d be awake again.  Then it was 4AM.  Then 5AM.  Then the Metrobuses started coming through.  The last look I got at the clock was 6AM, and I was briefly contemplating just getting up and going out for breakfast.  Apparently I finally fell asleep before I could attempt to follow through on that idea.

What sleep I did get was total crap as it was filled with odd dreams and when I woke up, I felt a bit like I’d been hit by a truck and with a mental state I’d graciously describe as cranky.  On top of it?  Craptastic weather!

It’s not a confluence of events that is particularly conducive to productivity.  I think the trip to the store should wait until there is a smaller chance of my bitch slapping a clerk.

I spent way too much time today attempting to buy a pair of jeans. My old jeans still fit, but are on the brink of falling apart, so it’s time to get another pair into the rotation. Because the old ones still fit, you’d think it would just be a matter of getting the same size, wouldn’t you? Well, apparently that makes you quite the delusional consumer.

There used to be a time when I could walk into the Gap and grab any style of size 4-Long jeans, try them on to make sure they weren’t mismarked, and off I went. Then the designers and sizing people all started doing some serious drugs. My size now could be anything depending on the day of the week. But despite the fact that I need to drop 5 pounds, my size is now a zero. 0-Regular. From a 4-Long. Today I tried on the same size, same style as the jeans I am attempting to replace only to discover that apparently my legs are now two inches shorter than they were the last time I bought these jeans, so I don’t even need a 0-Regular now, I need a 0-Ankle. And according to the saleslady the ankle length is only available online. (Except that it’s not – they don’t even make an ankle length version in size 0.)

So, according to the folks who determing sizes at the Gap, in the past 10 years I’ve gotten shorter and skinnier. Except that I haven’t.

And I still need another pair of jeans.

I am not anti-makeup at all. It’s more that I’m a bit lazy. While at least 75% of the time I at least have mascara on, I also have no compunctions about going out and about sans makeup. I don’t consider it the end of the world for anyone to see me au natural as far as my face goes. It is what it is, and while I am fighting age as much as I can, the wrinkles and such that are there are the scars of battle as far as I’m concerned.

If I’m just heading up to the pub – well, hells bells, I’m there to check in on the chickadees and catch the late showing of SportsCenter and/or a West Coast game. I certainly don’t give a crap about anything other than snagging a Guinness and some sports, and how I look ain’t gonna enter the equation.

Tonight I headed up to wish a friend a Happy Birthday and catch some playoff hockey. Little did I know that my inattention to making myself look appealing to the opposite sex would make me a lesbian.

No makeup, not just because of laziness, but also because I don’t want to put anything on my face that would make the pollen stick to it any faster than it would already. (It’s killing me this year – I’ve found the only solution is washing my face multiple times a day.) My trusty 501 button-fly jeans – cause they fit and are comfy and they worked better w/the shirt I was wearing – a kickass long sleeved tie dye t-shirt, made even more fun by the fact that the DynCorp name is embroidered on it. It’s fun to have a hippie shirt that was provided by the military industrial complex. That and you’re not going to wear a long sleeved t-shirt with a pair of flair leg jeans – you wear it with straight cut jeans. I do have an eye for what goes together, dammit. Oh, and my Teva sandals – because it’s warm enough to not wear my Timberlands anymore.

In talking w/ an (very distant) acquaintance this evening, he said something about being a lesbian, and I started howling with laughter. It then went something like this:
“Wait, you are a lesbian, aren’t you?”
“No, not at all. I dig the guys.” (I chose not to go into the studies I have heard indicating latent or overt bisexual tendencies of 60% to 80% of all women. I didn’t have the cash on hand to pull the cool Han Solo tossing money on the bar and saying “Sorry ’bout the mess” move when his head exploded. And no, I can’t find the citation at the moment.)

But according to him, I gave off a big time lesbian vibe. He claimed it was attitude and the outfit – I can only assume he’s not used to women forgetting to fawn over his pretty face & empty head. (His lady friends did soundly lambaste him over the idea that no makeup = lesbian.)

But yes, I’m sure a little more eye makeup will fix that. Then I’ll just be that bitchy girl with makeup who isn’t into him.

Earlier today my awesome neighbor came over and asked if I had seen anyone around his house today.  Unfortunately, the only clear line of sight I have to their house is if I am standing right at my front window, so I didn’t see anything.  (And I’m pissed at myself about that, trust me.)

It would seem that someone stole their brand damn new snowblower.  That is pretty brazen to say the least and quite the definition of a dick move.

The best I could do was to give my neighbor a flyer from some plumbing contractors that were coming around during the day – maybe one of them saw something.  (Or yes, they would have a truck that could have hauled it off – I don’t know where on the block they might have been doing work.)  I am keeping an eye on Craigslist to see if anything pops up – people are stupid and do try to sell stolen stuff there, so it may very well show up.

To my local friends – should you hear of someone getting a great deal on a kickass snowblower out of nowhere today – please let me know – it could belong to my neighbor.

I am SO mad about this – not just that it happened, but that I didn’t even SEE it.

Cause I’m not feeling it just yet. Could just be the sucky weather reports for the next couple days, but it’s just not been a whole lot better than 2009.

The back window in my car has decided that it doesn’t want to work anymore, which would normally be something that I’d simply leave alone for another time, but unfortunately, the window is open about an inch and a half, and as such, actually needs to be tended to. So, I’m looking at being carless for a couple days and that annoys me, too.

There was a 6.1 magnitude aftershock in Haiti today. WTF, Mother Nature, didn’t have enough fun with the first one?

It’s sounding more and more like the health care legislation may be dead, so yay, I can look forward to my premiums continuing to rise unabated, despite my decent health and fabulous looks, and then being cancelled if I ever have to actually use it.

I have taken to turning off the ringer on the phone in my bedroom and leaving my cell phone downstairs at night because I’m done with answering tax question calls from my grandmother at 3AM. (She has a little problem with boundaries and bothering to look at clocks.) I’m pretty sure this makes me a bad person, but I need sleep to effectively be the CEO of “Keep Grandma out of a Nursing Home, Inc.” and she certainly has no problems picking up the phone during the day.

On the upside, the animals are all quite well. Carmen decided to have herself a good old fashioned feline crazy this morning and was chasing me, the dog, invisible bugs, and anything else that caught her eye. However, the Christmas tree is a little worse for the wear for her fun this morning. She is happily sleeping on my lap as I type this, which thrills Moxley to no end, because it means she is not in his crate. He was not having a super awesome time this afternoon as he couldn’t sleep in his crate because Carmen was in it (why he won’t just walk in and sit on her is beyond me) and Lily kept trying to sleep on his tail and feet. (She LOVES him and is also just a little obsessed with his feet.)

So yeah 2010 – I’m just not impressed so far. We’re stuck with each other for 11+ more months, so let’s get it together, shall we?

You stepped in it again, basically telling an impoverished country that they have no one to blame but themselves for a horrid natural disaster.  Uncaring, unfeeling, and most certainly, unChristian to say the least.

Why couldn’t you have said something like this?

“First, what a terrible tragedy to befall the Haitians.  They are in our prayers.

Second, given that I can marshal some pretty impressive resources with a snap of my fingers, here’s what we’re gonna do.  First,we’re gonna charter some bigassed airplanes.  The biggest that can land at the Port Au Prince airport.  The first one we’re gonna load up with doctors and medical supplies.  The second one will have MRE’s, bottled water and water purification kits.  Third one will be new, clean clothes.  (No Tennessee Lane Kiffin shirts, either.)  The fourth one, we’re gonna go clear out the entire stock of tents and camping equipment at REI, cause a tent is still better than nothing.  And generators.  And we’ll grab some of those kids that work at REI so we’ve got people who know how to put the tents together.

Once we’ve got everyone fed, safe and in clean socks and underwear, we’re gonna start sending planes filled with building equipment and as many retired Seabees as we can get our hands on and start fixing things.”

But no, you decided to go with the, “It’s your own damn fault for making a pact with Satan” approach.  Yeah, I guess you could have easily gone either way.

Because it seems we’ve decided to let the terrorists win by making flying commercially so inconvenient and unpleasant that not even the terrorists will get on board, much less anyone else.  Sure, this could be a boon to RV rentals, rail & boat travel, but I’m not really sure that’s the best idea.

To the jackass pants bomber with Daddy issues:  I hope you have the meanest nurse on the wing you are in, your burns get infected and you get Necrotizing fasciitis.  And that they only have ham sandwiches for meals.  I hope after you got tackled on the plane, someone kicked you in the nuts for good measure.

Jasper Schuringa: Well done.  Northwest/Delta should be giving you free first class flights for the rest of your life.

Pants bomber Dad:  You tried to warn people.  I do give you credit for that.

Al Qaeda:  Dredging the bottom of the barrel now, aren’t we?  Guess it shows you’re being progressive to recruit from the short bus brigade.

TSA:  Let’s start by revoking that passing audit on Lagos International Airport, shall we?  Just how big was that briefcase full of cash to make that happen, anyway?  (Yes, I said it.)

State Department:  Why did he still have a visa?  Wasn’t he on an “We don’t think we really want this guy around, but we don’t know enough to flat out put him on the no-fly list” list?  Why wasn’t that enough to say, “Sorry, we get to be arbitrary about some things, and this is one of them, we’re revoking your visa.”?

Amsterdam Airport: Weren’t you guys supposed to re-screen this twit?  What happened?

And last but not least, would an flight originating in Nigeria passing through Amsterdam with this guy on the manifest be welcome at Ben Gurion airport?  Had this guy even been allowed on the first leg of the flight, would Israeli security have been waiting at Amsterdam to escort him off?  I really don’t know the answer – just wondering, because they seem to have the security thing down.

But really TSA, let’s not go knee-jerk on this.  Get mad at the other airports that failed before the flight even left the tarmac.  Making everyone miserable to show that you’re “doing something” for the sake of “doing something” isn’t the answer.

Can you tell I’m really looking forward to our flight home?

and in an apparently brilliant attempt to recover, pulled into a tree.  I can only assume that he was driving in the fog with his brights on.  (It would seem this will in fact make me crash my car someday.)

The aerial shots of the “crash scene” are so very telling.  The story they tell is, “Tiger has a nice house.”

He’s already been released from the hospital, so he’s not dead.  The police have said alcohol was not a factor, so no scandal.

I can see where this would mention a 60 second spot in the sports report on the evening news.  Beyond that, there are very few people in the America that have a pressing need to know all this, and to know it every break during the football game.  (Or DURING the football game for that matter.)

Those people with a pressing need to know are his family, and I’m guessing they already are up on all the news.  Other than that, his agent and his sponsors, and I’m quite certain they’ve all been in communication today.

God I hate the 24 hour news cycle.

And that is never good.  Everywhere I have ever worked the rule was, “If Cindy has a twitching eye, leave her alone for a bit.  Really, it’s in your best interest.”  My grandmother never got this memo, hence her contributions to my visual seizures when she was in town, and her continuing contributions even when 2,000 miles away.

As my grandmother’s dementia/Alzheimer’s/whatever-the-hell-it-is has progressed, I’ve gotten more and more used to the odd calls.  And I have done my level best to answer those calls with sincerity and good humor.

Tonight however, was a new one.

“Where would I go to get a photo for an ID?”

*Idiot that I am, I just answered without further inquiry.*

“Um, most drug stores that do photo processing will do ID photo type things……….Um, can I ask why?”

“Well, it’s that thing, you know, that says ‘affix a recent photo’.”

*I have no fucking clue what on earth “that thing” could possibly be*

“Can you be a little more specific, because I really have no idea what “that thing” could be.”  (Because as much as she thinks I can – I CAN’T READ A PIECE OF PAPER FROM 2,000 MILES AWAY!!)

“I DON’T REMEMBER!”

*Oh hells bells, my tone has been nothing beyond flat to curious**, neither of which should warrant screaming hostility.  Time to scramble for something to say that won’t get me in more trouble…*

“Well Grandma, I just can’t think of anything besides a passport that would need a recent photo.  Are you planning on flying to Tokyo next week??”

This actually got a good laugh (rare and I relish it when it happens – I really do try to make her laugh.  It usually backfires, but I try.) and an answer that no, no plans to travel to Asia.  I still couldn’t get any more details from her as to what piece of paper she may have found on her desk that asked for a photo – for all I know, it could have been the Extended Studies department of ASU offering her audit privileges, but I suspect not.  I just told her that she had her state ID, which didn’t expire, and I really could not truly imagine anything that would require a “recent photo” at all.***

“Well, no.  It just said, “Attach a recent photo.”

I just told her to not worry on it since I couldn’t think of any piece of paper that required a picture at this point at her age and stage.

But my eye is twitching because I don’t have an answer.  And as much as it pisses me off when I don’t have an answer, it pisses her off that much more.

Hence, the twitching of my left eye.

If she calls tomorrow about it, little bro has instructions to tell her, “Set the piece of paper aside until Monday when Sharyn pops in and can double check it.” (Tomorrow is my day off.)

**Which is really hard to keep my tone in check if I’m not paying attention, so I am REALLY aware of my tone so I don’t come off as a complete bitch on wheels.  Even if I am entitled to be one.
***I thought later maybe, possibly, but highly unlikely – her Rec Center card.  But it’s Sun City and really, is there that much Gray & Wrinkly difference from one year to the next in Sun City?  (NOT being mean.  Just an observation of GenPop there.)  And they usually just send a new expiration date sticker w/no questions asked once you pay the dues in the spring.  And I double checked the AZ website to check that the DNR requirements hadn’t changed – unchanged since 2006.

I realize your job is not glamorous, nor does it pay spectacular wads of cash.  That being said, it is a job that with two weeks of experience, you should be VERY GOOD AT IT.

When a customer checks out and hands you two bags for the groceries, and you have the two following choices, which do you choose?

A) Fill one bag to 150% capacity, ensuring that the one bag will split open in the middle of the parking lot, and leave the other bag empty.

or

B) Try to distribute the groceries somewhat evenly between the two bags so that your customer can have an uneventful walk to the car.

If you are still thinking about it – THE ANSWER IS B YOU NITWITS!!!!!!!!!!!

Additionally, if you choose option A, you are in no way allowed to get all offended when your customer goes two rows down to an empty register and redistributes her groceries so they don’t end up all over the pavement.

I am becoming quite certain this is some edict from management at Giant Food to ensure that customers decide to use the self-checkouts and bag their own groceries because their baggers are so freaking inept.

My grandmother has this little nifty voice-clock thing.  It’s about the size of a car remote, and she has it pinned to the armchair cover where she usually sits.  Hit the button and there is a chime and it gives you the time.  Very, VERY handy when you’re legally blind and even large-font digital clocks are difficult to read.

However, since the last time I was here, a change has been made to the settings.

Now not only will it tell you the time when you hit the button, it now chimes and tells you the time every hour on the hour.

It’s an awesome tool for my grandmother.  As resistant as she has always been to anything that “highlighted” her eyesight issues (or involved technology), I’m glad she actually uses this.

However, after hearing it chime approximately 81 times since we have arrived, (even from the other room it wakes me from a dead sleep every time) – I would very much like to smash it into many, many small pieces.

For the record, I’m not a big fan of China, their policy on Tibet and Taiwan, or their less than stellar track record with human rights, or their habit of putting lead and antifreeze in consumer products…

Judging from the number of protests I’ve seen lately, I’d say I’m definitely not alone.  They wouldn’t have been my first choice for the summer Olympics, and I really don’t understand how they got it if they are so despised by the rest of the world for their practices.  But, the IOC made their decision – if you don’t like it, start writing them angry letters.

But – how the hell does it accomplish anything to attack the Olympic torch runner?  Congratulations, you’ve just attacked one of your fellow countrymen – I’m sure China will sit up and take notice over that.

At the moment, we have police and fire crews trying to get protestors off the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco.  Again, I don’t think the folks in China are glued to CNN and suddenly deciding to change their policies because someone managed to get a Tibetan flag on the bridge.

If you want to protest their practices, fine – but take a minute to think about an effective way to go about it, rather than just looking like a bit of an idiot.  Write your reps in DC, tell them how you feel about the situation.  Cut back on your purchases of Made in China products.  Write the IOC and ask them WHY China got the Olympics in the first place.

But don’t go attacking the guy running the torch through your neighborhood – it’s not his fault and it’s not going to fix anything.

Nothing quite like hunting through the house for a particular power supply.  Managed to find a TON of them, but of course not the one I’m actually looking for.

I suppose this should be incentive to get this place organized, shouldn’t it?

I am trying to add Caller ID to the service for the house.  That is all I want to add.

It keeps adding on “Anonymous Call Rejection” to the list.  I don’t want that.  I just want Caller ID.

I don’t care that the Anonymous Call Rejection is free.  I am not trying to order it in the first place.

Which means I’m going to have to call them so I can get only the services I actually want added on.  Which is what I was trying to avoid given how spectacular their customer service is…

I am having a HORRIBLE day.

I cannot find my keys, or my spare set of keys. If I cannot find either, then I have to have the car towed to the dealership to get new keys, because they have to have the car to program the keys.  (ETA: I have been just told that I may have left them in someone’s car last evening, and they will let me know when they get off work.  Watching the Super Bowl and drinking and not driving is good, until you cannot locate your keys the next morning.  But I’m still hunting for the spares.)

I managed to drop my cell phone last night and apparently didn’t get all the pieces back in, as it would not power up this morning – because the battery was gone. The replacement battery was at least cheaper than a phone.

I also cannot locate my ATM card. Brilliant. ATM card located.

Food poisoning (or “my body just doesn’t like some ingredient and hates me”) sucks.

Managing to get it 2 times in 3 days because you didn’t make the connection the first time around really sucks.

I don’t know what went wrong with that soup, but I sure as hell won’t be making it again anytime soon.

Why, oh why must you puke all over me when I am trying to get things done? Why must my CD drive decide to be incredibly cranky today – when I really need to burn a CD today. When I will be heading out of town and won’t be able to have it fixed (if it won’t fix itself here soon) anytime in the immediate future? Why? WHY? Especially when I just had this drive replaced last spring?!?

Please, oh please, burn this CD. And actually let it read properly when it’s done. Is that really too much to ask?

ETA: And the cable just crapped out, too.

To Mr. Andrew Speaker, the 31 year old personal injury lawyer who exposed who knows how many people to a drug resistant strain of tuberculosis.

Dear Dumbass,

Yes, you heard me right. You’re doing a bang up job of furthering the stereotype that lawyers are a bunch of self-absorbed twits, which you most certainly are.

You knew you had tuberculosis before you left the country. What on earth would ever, EVER make you think that traveling was an acceptable course of action? It’s freakin’ tuberculosis, you moron. This is not like getting on a plane with touch of a head cold. Just because you “felt fine” doesn’t mean YOU’RE NOT SICK OR CONTAGIOUS.

Of course, I really love the fact that when you found out it was a drug resistant strain that you decided to take it mildly seriously – and yet again ignored orders NOT to travel and got on another long haul flight. Brilliant. Sure, you said it was because you were afraid you wouldn’t survive if you didn’t get home right away, but why is your health and well being more important than anyone else’s? A simple phone call to the embassy in Rome could have gotten the ball rolling on getting you back to the US without putting more people in harm’s way.

The folks on the news were pondering whether or not your father-in-law (who works with TB at the Centers for Disease Control) should somehow be brought into the inquiry – right now I’m sure he’s just beating his head into the wall over the fact that his daughter married such an idiot – punishment enough I think.

I caught a statement you made on the news earlier this evening that shows that you still don’t get it. You’re complaining about the fact that you are under quarantine with an armed guard. Frankly, the way you’ve acted so far, I think it’s probably the only thing that is keeping you from showing up at the Starbucks in downtown Denver.

I would think that as a personal injury lawyer you would really understand the concept of gross negligence, but apparently not. Frankly, if I was one of the folks you exposed to this, I’d be standing outside your hospital room so I could be the first to pop you in the mouth when they let you out.

I’d like to think that maybe you’ve learned something from this whole debacle, but I am guessing you’ll just find someone else to blame and sue them.

Yeah, new and improved, my ass. Google reader has made some damn modification to that my keyboard is damn near useless when I have that page opened – can’t use the keyboard to get to the browser menu, it just starts activating crap on the page that I don’t use anyway.

Second, Starbucks is supposedly phasing out whole milk in it’s shops for 2%. If I wanted 2% milk, I’d ask for it. Don’t force someone else’s damn diet plan on me, thankyouverymuch.

Here you can go from 75 degrees with a bit of overcast to 39 degrees, pouring rain with snow and sleet to come later in the day in a mere 24 hours.

This weather is absolutely disgusting to put it mildly, especially after 3 days of really NICE weather. It’s responsible for about 80% of my crappy mood this morning, and it’s one of those moods that really requires a trip to the batting cages or driving range to smack the crap out of inanimate objects, but because of the weather, I CAN’T DO THAT.

I wonder if there are any walls in the house that need to be knocked out… I would like a larger closet…

- it’s the stupid little shit that makes me borderline homocidal.

Case in point: Vendor calls Monday morning and says, “OK, so can we come out today?” Nope, I need a touch more notice than that and offer up Tuesday afternoon. OK, between 12-4PM it is, and they’ll call when en route. So, I make myself available between 12-4, thinking I might even get lucky and they’ll be early and I can get some other errands run afterwards. Of course, no call and 4 hours wasted waiting around for nothing to happen.

This morning? I get a voicemail – “OK, so what time is good for today?” Whisky. Tango. Foxtrot. I call back and get vendor’s call center… They have me scheduled for between 2-2:30 PM. Again, I need something slightly more than same-freakin’-day notice, and I pointed out the tech said YESTERDAY between 12-4PM, which of course they had no record of in their system. (Left hand, please let me introduce you to right hand.)

So, we’re trying this again on Friday, between 1-3PM, and again, they will call when en route. At least this time I’ll only lose 3 hours…

And I get to go to the DMV this afternoon. Icing on the cake.