I Don't Care Who Died on What Cross, I Just Need Some Cash!

With today being Good Friday and all, B and I decided to go for fish and chips like good nonpracticing Catholics (and at least one of us not at all Catholic). This required cash because the place only accepts cash. Seriously. We were there today and the guy in front of us tried to charge his dinner. The cashier laughed at him. He thought it was a joke and then realized it wasn't and she was laughing AT him.  He then realized he had to leave and find an ATM in a rather rough side of town. Definitely no joke there.  Oh, but they do take checks. CHECKS! Who carries those anymore? The guy looked at her like she said they take blood samples as payment.

Anyway, I headed off to an ATM in a good neighborhood (yay to planning ahead) after I left the office.  Just as I pulled my card from the machine and turned around, an older lady in her 80s came in:

Lady: Is the credit union CLOSED?

As I turned toward the totally dark and obviously closed bank, I say:

Me: Yes, it appears that it is.

Lady: WHY?

Me: Good Friday?

Lady: What?

Lady: There is not even a sign posted.

Me: It is right there. 

I point to a large sign that says the credit union will be closed all day in observance of Good Friday.

Lady: Wait! It has been closed ALL DAY?

Me: I have no idea.

As I leave, I hear her muttering "That is just STUPID." She then walks in the rain to her car, gets in and THEN proceeds to put on a plastic hair protector.  As she is tying it under her chin, another car pulls up and a woman gets out.  The old lady rolls down her window and yells:

"IT IS CLOSED. THE CREDIT UNION IS CLOSED AND HAS BEEN ALL DAY. DON'T BOTHER!"

She may have also muttered something about Good Friday.  New lady says "I'm just here for the ATM..."

Interesting.  So was I. It seems the only person that wasn't was the older lady. Is she against the ATM? Does she not know how they work? What is is that she needs done by a teller that she cannot do herself at an ATM?

Maybe the old lady should go to the fish place. She would feel right at home at a place that only does actual cash transactions and nothing with those "newfangled" ATM things. I can just picture her walking in, seeing the long line and exclaiming "Is there a LINE? WHY? What does Good Friday have to do with FISH? ...stupid..."

Happy Easter!

Crime Watch Wednesday: I Lost My Dog and My Man, But This Ain't No Country Song

It's been a while, hasn't it?  Over two weeks. I am tried of giving you the same refrain "I had a trial. It is tiring.  Litigating is hard." However, I will say this one was crazy because I basically had to try the same case twice, one week at a time, in front of a different jury each time.  And guess what? I won one and lost the other. Go figure. The best news? I think I am done with trials for a while.  Whew! It has been a long 10 months.

It is Wednesday which is typically Crime Watch Wednesdays around here. When I remember. This week I bring you a special Crime Watch Wednesday starring me, B and Jersey. We haven't made the Crime Watch Chronicles. Yet.

So it was the night before my trial. The first one. I decided to go to bed around 11 and B thought he would let Jersey out for one more bathroom break so she could go to bed with me.  As I am making the bed (yes sometimes I make the bed at night) I hear B yell out Jersey's name in that panicked you-better-get-back-here-right-now voice. The last time he yelled that out, she had run across two streets to go "play" with some dogs being walked by their owner. They were not fun dogs and she was soon cowering back.  Anyway, I ran over to the bedroom window to find B walking down the street with a flashlight. Not a good sign.

I did not even put on a coat, but just ran out in my pajama pants and sweatshirt. I could not see either of them. Having no idea what had happened, I decided I would go in the opposite direction that I saw B head, just in case Jersey was some super ninja dog that went left, fooled B, and then went right.  Just as I made it to the corner I heard B yelling Jersey's name again from the opposite end of the block.  I turned and started to make my way back there, all the time hearing B yelling her name.

At this point I am walking down the street with the following thoughts going through my head:

"I cannot believe we lost our dog the day before my trial."

"How am I going to sleep tonight?"

"How am I going to try a case tomorrow when I will be thinking my dog is lost and dead somewhere?"

"Why do we keep losing our flippin' animals?"

Just then, I see Jersey dart across the street and on to my same sidewalk.  I excitedly called her name and clapped and she came booking straight toward me just as I heard a car come down the street.  I prayed she would just come straight to me and thankfully she did.  I made her sit and called B's name a few times, but he had vanished.  So I walked Jersey home, locked her up inside and went back out yelling B's name.  Well trying to yell quietly. It was late at night after all.

Finally, I spotted him far away, got his attention and told him I had her.  As he got closer he said "did she have a rabbit in her mouth?" Um, no.  Apparently she took off after a rabbit before B could even say her name. When I heard him yell the second time when I was in the street she took off between some houses never to be seen again.  As we are discussing this two more cars drive down the street. Police.  Of course. Our yelling was not going to go unnoticed.

They did not stop.

You see two people out in the cold late at night, yelling, one wearing pajama pants and you just drive by.

Policing is hard work people.

Apparently so is pet ownership.

Could I ever do anything wrong?

I Think This is My Floor, Even if it Isn't.

Guess where I am? Why, yes, preparing for another trial. Not like I didn't just have one last week.  Not like this trial isn't practically the same trial from last week.  

Man I am tried.  

Until this trial is over, I leave you with another court related story.  This one from about a year ago. Yes, I am THAT behind in my post writing.

So I was in an elevator at court, the same court I will be in this week, when a guy gets pushed onto the elevator with a bailiff. There is already one bailiff on the elevator, I notice.

I sense trouble.

A couple of floors later my friend gets on the elevator. I tug on her sleeve so she moves behind the troublemaker.

A couple of floors later a THIRD bailiff gets on the elevator.

Then the trouble starts:

B: You are leaving the building

G: No I'm not. I got business here.

B: I don't care what you got, I am making you leave the building.

G: MAN YOU CAN'T DO THAT.

B: YES I CAN. AND I WILL. YOU ARE LEAVING. YOU CAN SAY WHATEVER YOU WANT.

Me: Can we discuss this on the ground floor?

G: I know what this is.

B: CALL IT WHATEVER YOU WANT, YOU ARE OUTTA HERE.

G: I know what you are.

B: I really don't care what you think I am.

G: I know what you are.

B: Whatever.

G: You are jealous.

I know what you are thinking. What in the hell were they even talking about? I have no clue. I think there was about to be some accusations of racism, sexism, ageism, and any other ism you could think of by G.  However, I am fairly confident that no matter what was going on, the bailiffs were NOT jealous of G.

I was just glad to be outta there myself.

I See Your Quarter and Raise You a What the Hell Just Happened?

Getting through the security lines at the courthouse is always an adventure. There is one particular court that is always changing the rules - keys out, keys in, no cell phones, who cares about cell phones, feel free to bring your bayonet in by all means.  There is also no telling as to what will set the metal detector off except that it undoubtedly will not be metal.

So it was no surprise that we were waiting there, me and 20 other people, stuck behind a lady that basically had to undress to get through.  I could sense some annoyance coming from behind me, but I decided to focus on my own annoyance instead. First mistake.

As soon as the woman in front of me was cleared and before I could even think to take a step toward the detectors, a woman behind me practically barges her way through me to get into line.  My usual decorum evaporated:

Me: "Oh, EXCUSE ME!

Lady: "What?"

As I stand there with my arms open wide and about to shout "what do you think", she points to the ground behind me and says "There's a quarter."  

Here's where I would tell you that I retorted with a "Nice try old woman. Don't try to distract me with shiny things.  I don't need money that bad" while pushing her out of the way and running through the metal detectors screaming "I am coming your honor."  Sadly, that did not happen.

What happened? I was totally caught off guard and turned to find that there WAS a quarter there on the ground. I then wondered why there was a quarter there and how she knew there was a quarter there and if she was a member of MENSA.  Meanwhile, she was through the detector and off like an apparition.

That is, until I caught up with her on the elevator and she proceeded to answer her cellphone like this:

I AM ON THE ELEVATOR IN COURT AND I CANNOT TALK RIGHT NOW SO I WILL HAVE TO HANG UP, BUT WHY ARE YOU CALLING?

Luckily, I got off one floor after the phone call came in and before I totally lost my hearing.  Later when I relived this event with those that I work with, I could only think of one thing:

I really wanted to pick up that quarter.

They Know Your Every Step. Especially When You Tell Them Your Every Step. Also, Reindeer Are Super Fast.

So the last time I posted, Brad has escaped but miraculously returned the next morning like a grimy Christmas present.  You will also recall that I had quite the conversation with the delivery place whom we thought were the reason for Brad's Great Escape. Turns out it wasn't so, but in the meantime a strange thing happened. Or so I thought.

After I finished yelling at the operator, she told me that she could tell me which branch delivered my package. I gave her my zip code, she told me what branch and then proceeded to tell me they don't have a phone number. I found this hard to believe but just declared "I WILL JUST GO THERE IN PERSON AND DEMAND TO SPEAK TO MY DRIVER. GOOD DAY!"  

And then I didn't give it anymore thought until I came home, discovered the ripped screen and told B that I didn't think the delivery place had anything to do with it.  I did not tell him, however, that while he was out searching for Brad, the delivery place drove by. He probably would have been angry that I didn't chase the driver down.

The next day after Brad was safe and sound and I was back at the office, I received a text from B indicating that the delivery place had called him and told him that they spoke to the driver who remembers seeing Brad on the catio. B told them not to worry, Brad may have been spooked, got supercat strength and busted out the screen. Not their fault.  Well, not really.

Meanwhile I sat in my office perplexed.  How did the delivery place know to call B? How did they get his number? When I called, I only gave them our zip code. I did not call from B's number. Hell, I didn't even call from my number.  I considered this an amazing show of just HOW GOOD THEIR TRACKING COULD BE. I discussed it a lot with my coworkers and would say things like:

"How did THEY know?"

"Did they just ask EVERY driver if it saw a cat?"

"Did they just narrow down deliveries in that time frame?"

"Did they narrow down deliveries by zip code?"

"Do they have a satellite?"

"Are they watching me RIGHT NOW?"

Yes, I would look up and around the ceiling at that last one.  By the time I got home I was full of conspiracy theories and thought we might have to run like Will Smith in that movie where they were tracking him all over when he mistakenly took a package in a store and the woman behind me in the theater kept gasping at "ALL OF THAT TECHNOLOGY."

So I came home prepared to tell B that we were going to have to pack light and really, how does one go on the lam with three cats and a dog, when B said:

B: What in the hell are you talking about?

Me: The delivery place! They knew to call you! I didn't give them ANY information.  They have satellites. They are watching us.

B; What...what?

Me: HOW DID THEY GET YOUR PHONE NUMBER? HOW DID THEY KNOW TO CALL?

B: I emailed them yesterday.

Me: THEY KNOW EVERYTHING WE DO!!!...wait, what?

B: I. Emailed. Them.

Me: Well, hell, why didn't you tell me that? That makes a lot more sense.

B: Doesn't it?

So the delivery place isn't watching me. Allegedly. They are still suspect. Don't worry though, I am sending Vicky after them.

On a completely different topic, watch the video below. This man's wife literally gets taken by a reindeer and he does NOTHING. He barely moves.

I would like to think if we were in the same situation, B would at least TRY to run after me. However, I may be mistaken. B's response was "reindeer are REALLY fast."  Well, gee thanks. Apparently, I don't have much to worry about though as B assures me I would never be somewhere where I would have to wear a big furry parka, outside in the snow with a reindeer in the vicinity.

He is probably right. Just to be safe, I am going to get one of those kid leashes for us. If the reindeer gets me, he is coming along too. Ha!

Don't Even Try it Woman, This is MY Territory

On Sunday, B and I decided to hit a few open houses in our neighborhood to see what is for sale, how much they are asking and to satisfy our general need to snoop in other people's homes. After seeing way too much wallpaper and a gorgeous house on our street but out of our price range, we decided to wrap it up with one final house that B had been to before with the "sexy" kitchen (as one realtor described it).

A "sexy" kitchen, apparently, is one that is newly remodeled while still keeping the charm of the old house. And you can cook up a storm in there. I will admit, even I gasped upon seeing it.

After leaving that area, B called down to me from the staircase to "come check out the third floor." As I was turning the staircase to head up, I hear this small voice say to me very angrily:

HEY! WE ARE CHECKING THIS OUT.

I look down to see a small boy about 6 right up in my face, pointing a finger at me. He looked extremely pissed off that anyone would dare check out this house while he and his family are checking it out. Territorial, much? It must be a joy to play at his house "HEY! *I* am playing with THAT toy." Of course, since I am not a 6 year old kid, I found the exchange amusing:

Me: Wait. YOU are checking out this house?

Boy: YES!!

Me: Do YOU want to live in this house?

Boy: YES!!

Me: Well, you can have it then as I already have a house of my own.

Boy: {grumbles}

Me: Is that okay? Are we good?

Boy: Yes.

And then he stalked away toward the kitchen. When I reached the top of the staircase, B declared "that is one defensive child!"

He must like the sexy kitchen.

I Got Someone Fired on Christmas Even Though I Don't Have that Power, But She Didn't Know that a/k/a BagelGate 2009

Fridays in our office are Casual Day. If you are not meeting with clients or in court, you can wear jeans. Unfortunately, I do not get to partake a lot because I am usually in court. Hence, Fridays seem to be Dani Wears a Suit Day. Not as exciting or as comfortable.

Fridays are also Bagel Day. One person is the designated bagel person. Usually I do not have my first pick in bagels and end up taking whatever is left over, or nothing at all. That would be because I am in court. However, when I am there for jeans and bagels? I call that heaven.

So last week we knew there would be a skeleton crew on Christmas Eve. For some reason we were going to be open all day (that later changed to 3 pm). I was only going in until lunch and because of lunch, which I had scheduled for just a few miles from the office. When the email came asking for a head count for people that would be in the office for Bagel Day, I replied right away.

Christmas Eve became my heaven.

I got there bright and early at 8 am (well for Christmas Eve that is bright and early) and began telling everyone how excited I was for my bagel. S was excited too. Then at 9 I began to complain that I was starving. After all, I didn't eat breakfast in anticipation of this bagel. Then at 9:10 I heard there would be no bagel because the bagel person claimed no one responded to the email.

Christmas was RUINED!

I went to my sent box and the email was there. S claimed she sent one too. We grabbed our coats and on the way out to the bagel place, we made a stop at the Bagel Person's office:

Me: YOU ARE FIRED

BP: I am sorry

Me: YOU ARE FIRED

BP: Only 5 people responded, so....

Me: Wait...huh? WHAT?

BP: There wasn't a big response...

BP: Do you want some of my candy bar?

Me: I WANT A BAGEL

Me: I AM GOING TO GET A BAGEL

And so I got a bagel. A much better bagel actually than I would have had if the person had come through. Of course, the better bagel required me to put on my coat, go outside, DRIVE to the bagel place and waste what little time I had planned on spending in the office. So, there was that.

Also? 5 people? That IS A RESPONSE! If you ask "how many people will be in so I know how many people to buy bagels for" and 5 people respond, BUY FIVE BAGELS. At the very least, email those 5 people and tell them they are on their own. That way maybe the will not rely on your bagel. Maybe they will eat breakfast.

Lesson here? The bagel you buy could save your job.

Another lesson? Buy your own damn bagel!

*No actual people were fired in BagelGate 2009. I do not have that kind of power.**

**Even if I had that power, I probably wouldn't fire someone over BagelGate 2009.***

***But I might really want to.

And Then the REAL Dani Came Out

I have been at the new office for just over 6 months now. I may not have told you I got a new job, but I did shortly after I had my gallbladder removed. I love the new office and the people I work with, which is always a plus. I do miss some of the people that I used to work with, but we try to stay in touch.

Anyway, as those of you that have had more than one job know, when you start at a new place you tend to be quieter, more reserved at first. The same is true of me. Although right now I know some people reading this are probably screaming "LIAR" at the screen. I said MORE reserved, not totally reserved. Later, though, at some point, you feel comfortable enough and the real you comes out. That happened to me with my new colleagues just the other day.

I went to lunch with three other female attorneys. There was a wait and we had to give our to the host who said it would be a 10-15 minute wait. Then a party of 3 came in and gave their name. Then a part of 2 came in and the host SAT THEM AT A TABLE FOR FOUR. So I started to get a wee bit irritated. Then the host took 4 menus and put them at a table of four without taking anyone there. I looked at a woman in the party of 3 and said "is he seating invisible people now?" She just shrugged while also looking perplexed. The host then came over and SAT THE PARTY OF 3 that came in after us. I truly thought my head was going to explode! The minute he came near me, I lunged toward him with my finger out and growled "I ASSUME we will be seated now." My coworkers were shocked and amazed. The host? Not so much. Do you know what he said?

"I already have a table for you."

Um, where would that be exactly or do we have to psychically find it I wonder? He then points at the table where he put the menus. Now how in the heck were we supposed to know that we were to sit there when the HOST did not seat us? A woman from my office asked "are you going to walk us there" at which point I muttered "apparently NOT" and led the way to the table.

That, my friends, is the real Dani.* She's back. She's bitchy. And she's been storing pent up rage and incredulous disdain for MONTHS.

Watch out.

*Actually, it is Stage 1 Real Dani. Stage 2 would probably have involved another head explosion after the host pointed to "our table" and perhaps some cursing. Okay. Definitely some cursing. Stage 2 has not yet been revealed.

Crime Watch Wednesday: Why Steal Valuables When You Can Just Eat Turkey?

This week's crime watch chronicles comes courtesy of my Mom. Yep, I now have the whole family involved. Mom wants to point out that she has stupid criminals where she lives too. She is right. Take a gander:

A woman was the victim of a hungry thief. Upon arriving home to her apartment, the woman found that someone had entered her apartment and ate some turkey and cheese out of her refrigerator. There were no broken windows. The door was locked at the time. The woman stated that she had lost her keys in the utility room several weeks prior and never changed the locks.

Okay, let's review. You come home to find all the windows and doors locked. The ONLY thing missing is some turkey and some cheese from your fridge. Do you immediately think it was a criminal? Or do you blame your roommate? Perhaps wonder if you ate too much the night before? I am pretty sure that leaving unmarked keys in a utility room is not going to give enough information for the thief to know which apartment you live in. Also, if you lost your keys and did not have your locks changed, how are YOU getting into the apartment?

You know what I think? I think it was the maintenance people. It is always the maintenance people.** I, too, have a similar, but entirely different story related to this one.

One time I lived in this mid rise apartment where my garbage disposal always smelled like something died in it. I used lemons. I used soap. I used special garbage disposal cleaner. Nothing helped. Finally I told the manager she had to do something about it. I was promised something would be done.

One day after that, I came home to my locked apartment on the 12th floor to find my refrigerator unplugged, and a set of tools lying on my kitchen floor. Clearly, the maintenance man had been there and left, without his tools, and without plugging my fridge back in. Your guess is as good as mine as to why he unplugged it in the first place. Regardless, my food was no longer cold and I was steaming mad.

So I storm down to find the manager. The woman proceeds to tell me that there is a new manager that has taken over and gives me his apartment number. Immediately upon him opening the door I angrily wonder why the maintenance people left before completing their job and, more importantly, left all my food to spoil.

Manager: Are you sure it was maintenance?

Me: Am I sure it was maintenance?

Me: I CALLED for maintenance.

Me: There are TOOLS on my kitchen floor.

Me: Who the f*** do you think it was?

Manager: It could have been thieves.

Me: Thieves?

Me: It could have been THIEVES?

Me: What the f*** were they stealing????

Me: And why were they attempting to fix my garbage disposal???

Manager: We have had a bunch of thefts of fire extinguishers lately.

Me: Have you lost your ever loving mind???

Me: HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?

Me: These were not THIEVES.

Me: Tell you maintenance people they have until tomorrow to get their tools or they are mine.

Miraculously the tools were gone when I came home.

The thieves must have been listening.

* I just realized there is no first asterisk. You may now proceed to the second asterisk. Do not stop. Do not collect $200. However, if you have $200, please give it to me. I am in Vegas you know. I am broke.

**My apologies to maintenance people who are not thieves. That is probably almost all of you. You are easy to blame though. So are cleaning people who eat lunches. Except they don't. WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE LUNCH EATERS. Ahem.

***I have a foul mouth. This guy did not. He was scared of me. I liked it that way.

Feline of the Corn

Does your cat eat half a thing of corn bread that you left on top of the microwave that was in a sealed package?

Does your cat CONTINUE to eat the corn bread even when you say "HEY - what are you doing?"

Does your cat STILL eat the corn bread even after you yell "ARE YOU F'ING KIDDING ME"?

Does your cat not even flinch when you come at him with the Dustbuster to clean up the corn bread pieces strewn all around the dining room?

Does your cat come crying to you later attempting to make you believe he is starving despite the fact that he JUST ATE CORN BREAD?

If so, congrats, you have a Chester.

And here I thought it was strange when he ate a tomato.*

*One time I left a tomato on our counter at the condo and woke up to see tiny little bite marks in it. Those cats will eat anything!

Take Me Out to the Ball Game...Listen to Me Complain

Well it is no wonder that B doesn't take me to the ball game* too often. First, as you know, I don't really follow sports. Second, I like to discuss what is going on around us, not necessarily what is happening in the game. Third, when I do decide to discuss what is going on in the game, I quickly become an "expert" much to the amusement and/or frustration of B. Here is a prime example:

[Scene: Baseball game around the 5th inning]

Me: Oh GREAT, Smith is up to bat? We are SCREWED.

B: Like you even know what you are talking about!

Me: Oh, I don't know? I DON'T KNOW?

Me: You know he is just going to hit it up and to the left like he does EVERY.SINGLE.TIME and then he will foul out, or whatever it is called, and then all of these men on all of the bases out there? WASTED.

Me: Yes, Smith, you will be WASTING ALL OF THOSE HITS!

Me: I mean, really. Look at his stats - they are AWFUL.

B: You don't know what you are talking about.

Me: Really? Why are his RBIs so low? Huh?

B: They are low.

Me: What are RBIs anyway?

B: {sigh}

*****

[Scene: Later in the same inning]

Me: Now THAT guy has GREAT stats.

B: HE IS ON THE OTHER TEAM.

Me: Huh.

Me: We are SCREWED.

You know what is fun though? When the guy in your row decides to walk down in front of you for the second time and then stop RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE and say "maybe I should have gone the other way" while doing some weird back and forth maneuver RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE that prompts your spouse to say "nice of him to wave his junk in your face" and you to say "thank God he is wearing pants" and thinking what you really wanted to say to the guy was "HEY, I think you left your penis on my face."

Finally, no baseball game is complete unless it is at or below 50 degrees. Seriously, the last three games we went to in different months? FREEZING. Here is photographic evidence:

Yes, I am wearing a sweatshirt AND a fleece AND gloves AND drinking a hot chocolate. You will also notice there is no one around me. That is because they were smart and stayed home and watched it on TV with their heat on.

I love sports.

*Or a football game. Or a basketball game. I am a bit better with hockey. A bit.

Words You Never Want to Hear Your Husband Say...

"Well, that was a strange looking bug."

Gives me the chills. We have had quite array of bugs the past couple of days much to my dismay. First there was the awfully big spider over our bed. I usually do not kill spiders because I believe their job is to go off and eat all of the other bugs I cannot stand and leave me guilt free about killing them. Although, I must say, I generally do not like the spiders to be hanging out over my bed as statistics have shown people eat about 3 or so in their lifetime. I prefer to remain in denial about that. So B was going to solve the problem. But first, like an idiot, I had to get up close because the spider looked so darn big....

and it was a CENTIPEDE!!

which caused me to run screaming like the girl I am going AHHHHHH and EEEEEEE and KILL IT NOW - NOWWWWWWW!!!!

B decided it was not that urgent and that he would go to the bathroom first so I guarded the centipede from afar to make sure it did not move. B killed it. One down.

Until yesterday when I found one in the kitchen sink. WTF? They are taking over. This also involved screaming and death threats such as:

YOU WILL DIE DOWN THE DRAIN YOU WILL.

and he did.

As did the huge big black ant the size of a bee yesterday that met his fate down the toilet.

What the heck is going on?

As for the bug that I first referenced that B found "strange," I don't know what it is and B has wisely not proceeded to find out.

It was probably a centipede.

We know how I feel about centipedes.

Aren't bugs supposed to hide or die in the summer?

Maybe if I transport these two huge spiderwebs on either side of our garage into our house, the big spiders that they house will take care of our bug problem?

Our spiders are symmetrical, if anything.

Why B Should Watch More Reality TV

Vegas in Christmas was a lot of fun.  However, with the time change and B and I just being all...old or something, we did spend a couple of hours one day lounging in our bed watching TV before we went downstairs to lose more of our money.  While flipping through the channels, B stumbled upon the Real Housewives of Atlanta reunion show.  Hilarity ensued - both on the show and in B's reaction.  Here is a recap of what occurred:

Upon landing on the channel, they show Kim talking.

B:  That girl has crazy hair.

Me: It is a wig.

B: Are you sure?

Me: Look at it - it doesn't move. And it is shiny. And plastic looking.

B: I don't think it is a wig.

Me: Trust me, it is a wig. In fact, I read somewhere maybe she was sick.

At that moment, in the midst of NeNe* and Kim hashing it out, Kim tells NeNe that she was hurt that NeNe made fun of her hair and said something like this (totally not word for word, just by memory):

Kim: It really hurt me when you made fun of my hair because I had cancer.

NeNe: I did not know you had cancer until this minute. I am sorry. I did not know.

Host: So, you have cancer.

Kim: Well I wasn't feeling good, and my hair started falling out...

B (yelling at screen): YOUR HAIR DOESN'T FALL OUT FROM CANCER. IT FALLS OUT FROM CHEMO.

Me: Are you going to be okay?

B: Really, this girl is nuts.

Meanwhile, back on TV:

Kim: ...and I went to the doctor and it turned out it wasn't that, it was something else...

Host: So you don't have cancer...?

Kim: No, but I am sick.

Host: Well, what is it.

Kim: It is something different, not cancer, but complicated. I don't want to talk about it.

NeNe: {silent but looking aghast}

Meanwhile, on the bed next to me:

B: WHAT??? She doesn't have cancer? WHAT??

Me: Are you going to be okay?

B: This bitch is nuts!** She just totally made that woman apologize for making fun of her hair because she had cancer and SHE DOESN'T HAVE CANCER.

Me: I know. That is funny.

B: That is INSANE.  And now she is acting like she has some other illness.  She is not sick. There is nothing wrong with her.

Me: Well, she does have some bad hair.

B did get over his disgust when things got really heated and NeNe decided she was going to TAKE KIM OUT. The only thing stopping her, of course, was that little housewife. Heck I don't even know her name.  B was like "why is the small one the only one holding her back?"  Probably because the others really just don't care.  Man, I love that show.***

B used to be a fan of reality shows and other TV shows, but like all shows, he eventually loses interest but tries to blame it on the show itself by saying it jumped the shark. This would be believable if it didn't happen to EVERY show he watched, usually in the second season.  Here are some examples:

The Hills - B was never a big fan but with the advent of Spencer, he used to sit and watch it with me because he loved what a tool Spencer was.  However, come next season B declared it had jumped the shark because it was too fake.  Huh? It was never all that real.

Lost - B and I faithfully watched it together for the first season. Come next season B declared it had jumped the shark because:

• there were too many TV commercials
• the commercials were too long
• they never explained anything
• they raised too many questions
• it was too hard to follow

However, I have since caught him secretly watching it the next day without commercials and most recently just a few minutes behind me with the DVR.  

The Real World - I would have to say that for our age group, The Real World played a significant part in our young adult lives.  B watched up until around a few seasons ago when he declared it jumped the shark because all they did was drink and have sex. Yes. We call that entertainment.

The Shield - another show we found together and enjoyed watching in bliss until B's declaration of shark jumping in about the third season, although I cannot remember what the reason was for this one.

The Real Housewives of Orange County - yes he watched this and I think he liked it. I forget all of their names now but he knew them and still does.  He may never have stopped on this one for all I know.  In Vegas, I even reminded him of the spinoff Date My Ex with Slade and that one housewife. He didn't believe me even though I told him about it no less than four times before it premiered. Sigh.

You see, B is not so much into reality shows or celebrities. This makes for difficult conversations in our house sometimes, as I am generally a fan of both:

Me: That Jamie Spears is brilliant.  We should send him to Washington to fix things. Heck, if he can fix Britney, what can't he do?

B: How did she fix Britney?

Me: What do you mean how did he fix Britney? Um, she has a new album, looks decent, with her kids...

B: Yes, but how did she have time with her new baby...

Me: Who's baby? Wait...what?

B: JAMIE SPEARS

Me: Oh. No. Jamie Spears the DAD not Jamie Spears the sister. Now THAT would be hilarious if the younger teenage sister with a baby could turn around Britney.  That would be something.

B: They are both named Jamie?

Me: Sigh

Or this one where I was watching The Girls Next Door and B happened to wander out:

Me: This is THE one B. This is the one where everything changes.

B: What do you mean?

Me: Where have you been hiding? Hef isn't dating them anymore. Now he has these two twins or something.

B: I KNOW that.

Me: Well, this is the one where he meets the twins.

B: Oh, I thought the twins took over the show and the other girls were no longer on it.

Me: Ha. Please.  That is not going to happen. At least not this year. Get with it.

B: Those girls' parents must be so proud...

He then spouted a whole litany of gripes, grumbles and bad words about how he REALLY feels about The Girls Next Door.

I will leave that to your imagination.

*I do not know if this is how it is spelled and I am too lazy to look it up. Forgive me.

**B may or may not have said "This bitch is nuts!" That could have just been what I was thinking at the time.

***I had only recently discovered this show about a week prior when I went to a party at my friend's house only to discover there were just three of us. Fun was had by all three. Such fun included Wii and Desperate Housewives of Atlanata marathon. And just like that...I was in love.

The One Where I Play Santa Clause...

I recently had to go pass out gifts to our clients.  Envisioning myself as a Santa I practiced saying "Ho, Ho, Ho" and walking around for B:

Me: [walking around] HO HO HO

B:  What are you doing?

Me: Practicing playing Santa for when I give out gifts tomorrow.

Me: HO HO HO

B:  What are you doing with your arms?

Me: What do you mean?

B: You look like an ape.

Me: That is me holding PRESENTS!

Me: HO HO HO

Of course, Partner and I picked one of the worst winter days to go pass out presents. That, among other things, made him crabby.  That made me crabby.  To console ourselves, we went out to lunch first.  Cappuccinos cure everything. At least for me. He does not drink those. He remained grumpy.

As we were driving away from the restaurant (more like crawling through the snow), I noticed a TV van parked across the street.  Trying to lighten the mood, I said:

Look! There's a TV van and a camera and a girl and everything. I wonder what she's going to say - "Hi John, I'm live in the parking lot where it is snowing. Can you see the snow John? Yes, I am in front of the diamond store. No, I don't know why. Maybe because snow is shiny like diamonds? Ha ha John, back to you in the studio."

Partner asks me to tell him what girl from the station and I say "Some brunette from Channel 2."  As Partner declares he HATES Channel 2, it happens:

BAM!

We get rear ended.  And my head actually bounces off the headrest and back before I even hear the sound.  And it hurt dammit!  Turns out there was no damage, which was good, but it sure didn't lighten the mood. It just made me grumpier.

Partner took that opportunity to call his wife and warn her to stay off the road. Unfortunately, he still has not figured out how to work his bluetooth phone in the car and could not get it off speaker phone.  That conversation went something like this:

Partner:  Hi wife!  Stay home. The roads are really bad.

Wife: Too late. I am already on the road

Partner: Okay.

Wife: Hey...

Partner: WIFE! I CANNOT TALK RIGHT NOW!!

Wife:  THEN WHY DID YOU CALL ME?????

Click [the sound of her hanging up on him].  I was laughing. He was not. I dont think he wanted to tell her he couldnt talk because she was on speaker coming through the car, that I was in the car listening and that he could not figure out how to turn it off.  We all have troubles.  He got grumpier.

We delivered the gifts. I did not say HO HO HO though.  In fact, I started saying Merry Christmas because, after all, we were passing out gifts mere days before Christmas, but realized that was probably politically incorrect. So then I started saying something like this:

MerryChristmasHappyHolidaysHappyHanukahandallthat.

Smooth, right? I blame it on my head injury.

And if you are wondering what our clients got, they got wireless digital frames. No, they did not have pictures of strangers in them.

Hope all of your Holidays were bright and cheerful. Unlike this story.

And Then It Was Dark...

Yikes! Is it Thursday already?  Time flies when you are busy at work and then have no inclination to sit at the computer again while at home.  And that is my explanation for my absence.  

So let's talk about Monday.  Yep, all the way three days ago.  The day I had to go back to the office because I was not a millionaire.  I didn't even have secret santa fun/drama in which to partake. A sad day indeed.   It was approximately 3 pm and I found myself staring at the computer screen, having looked at one too many documents, and wondering, when the heck I would get to leave.  Then the answer came.

The lights went out.  

Technically everything went out with a WAH WAH WAHHHHH sound.  It was kind of freaky. No lights, computer, phones, nothing.  A few more tries and the electrical system totally gave out.  People milled out of their offices and cubes and said brilliant things like "we lost electricity" and "what happened to the lights."  I knew we were done because the security lights were on casting a creepy looking haze over the office.  As one coworker pointed out, it looked like we could be in the Cloverfield movie when you walked down the hall.

Excited at the prospect that we might be down for good, people walked around asking others what they thought was happening.  Finding a window I noted the traffic lights were out too. Score!  At that moment someone talked about finding a radio WITH BATTERIES to find out what was happening.  It was then that I pointed out that we had cell phones that worked and could, in fact, make contact with the "outside world." 

So I called my mom.  However in order to call my mom, I had to navigate a totally dark office as I do not have a window office. That is right folks - no window office. First time in my career and sometimes I am bitter.  I make up for it with cozy mood lighting, but it is not the same.  After painfully running smack into my chair, I grab my cell phone, walk out of my office and yell to the two partners within my eye sight:

"I can't see ANYTHING in my office because it is SO DARK in there because I have no WINDOWS! If I had a WINDOW office, I probably wouldn't have ran smack into my office chair while retrieving my phone from the DARK office, would I?"

I am subtle.

A partner handed me a flashlight.  No kidding, I laughed and gave it back to him and ran off to talk to my mom while wandering the halls. My mom knew nothing. Nothing on TV or the internet about our predicament.  So I told her I would call her back.  As I rounded the corner I heard someone say:

"I am going to call the electric company, nobody's thought of that"

And she was right.  I found this to be very hilarious what with the radios with batteries talk like we were at war.  However, I made sure to point out to her that I had DONE SOMETHING.  I had called my mom.

Well, the electric company told us that the power would not be back on until 7 pm.  Twenty minutes later we were cleared to go home. That was not quick enough for one partner who was running around with his coat on yelling "why are you people still here? Are you going to sit around for three hours? Can't you see it is DARK in here? There are no lights."  He had already checked out I guess.

The end result? We all scored some extra hours away from the office.  We all learned some valuable lessons as well:

~A scary place to be when the lights go out is our bathrooms, according to a partner who informed me that's where he was and that there are no windows and apparently no safety/backup lights.  Is that possible? Safe? Legal? Sounds like a problem waiting to happen.  Good thing that other partner had that flash ligh as about 8 women decided to go to the bathroom as a team.  Apparently no electricity makes you have to pee.

~Every entrance door has a keypad operated by what? Electricity. We were not sure we would be able to get back in through any of them.  Of the five in the main entrance, two you could access with your code still, two you could not and one was just totally open to anyone. Fort Knox I tell ya.

~There is absolutely nothing to do in an office without electricity. Not.one.thing.  Except going around unplugging everything in case of a power surge only to have a partner yell out "isn't that what power strips are for?"  The man has a point.

~The correct order to obtain information about a power outage is (1) the electric company, (2) your mom or anyone in the outside world and (3) a battery operated radio.  Of course, the person in charge of the radio only seemed to report traffic news and news from a German station.  That was very helpful.  

~Clients do not care if you have no power. They will show up anyway and will not want to reschedule.   It is fun to just sit across the table from them and remark about the weather or the lack of power. I wouldn't actually know as I did not have clients that day, but that is how I imagined it would be.

~It is hard to actually get word to someone that his clients have arrived without email or a paging system. It involves a lot of walking around.  And if he is walking around at the same time, you could be doing it for hours.

Finally, it is fun to come into the office the next day and have this conversation:

Partner: There are pictures of strangers in my picture frame.

Me: What???

Partner: In my digital picture frame, there are pictures of people I don't know.

Me: Are you sure?

Partner: YES! I DON'T KNOW THEM.

Me: Who are they?

Partner: I dont know. I DON'T KNOW THEM.

Me: Let's take a look.

As I suspected, his USB stick was not plugged into his frame. There were pictures, however, flashing across the frame.

Me: I think those are the pictures that came with the frame...

Partner: Are you sure?

Me: Pretty confident.

Partner: How do you know?

Me: Um, it says "Insignia" on the bottom left corner of every picture and it is an Insignia frame.

Partner:  You are so smart.

Me: Thank you, can I have a raise?

No, I did not ask for a raise. I did, however, threaten to one day replace his pictures with pictures all of me.

And I think I just might do that.

Think of the Children...

As you are all aware, times are tough right now. We may or may not be in a recession, depending on whom you talk to and at what time of the day.  However, the fact remains, people are tighter with their money these days. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.  I would imagine this would make it harder for charities to get donations.  Even if people want to help those in need, they may not be able to at the moment.  So, how are charities dealing with these hard economic times? Well, if the guy in the local Walgreens is any example, apparently by yelling and guilting customers into donating.  

The only reason I found myself in Walgreens at that moment is because out cats needed some water. Yes, due to Mooch's recent illness, the cats now drink fancy distilled water. And they were out. After being in the office all day, I was tired and hungry and really did not want to be buying water.  I only had $1.00 on me. Enough for one gallon of water.  Pathetic, I know, but I don't like to carry a lot of cash on me.  

Upon entering the store I see a guy wearing a suit in front of a table that contains a bunch of pamphlets. Luckily he is talking to someone so I do not have to dodge him.  I make my way to the water and get in line to pay where there is one person ahead of me. While I am waiting, the guy in the suit attempts to get people entering and leaving to make a donation. No dice.  So, he decides to change tactics:

Guy:  What? You cannot give money for the CHILDREN??? Who doesn't love CHILDREN?

Cashier: I love children.

Guy: Of course you do. Who doesn't love CHILDREN?

Cashier: Of course that's because I have four of them.

At this point the cashier and the person in front of me proceed to have a conversation about her four children. The guy in the suit, oblivious to the fact that he is no longer conversing with the cashier, keeps up his tirade:

Guy: And what would YOU do if one of your children were missing?

[no answer]

Guy: Go to the police I am sure.

Now, people are dodging this guy or, as in my case, trying to pretend that he was not in the middle of the store shouting about children and not making a lick of sense.  I thought about telling him he needed to tone it down, no one likes to be scolded into donating.  I thought about asking him what kind of charity he was working with so I could be sure to contact them about the lunatic collecting donations.  I thought about asking for the manager. I even thought about asking suit guy what missing children, the police and his charity had to do with one another. 

Instead, I went home.  I gave my cats 99 cent distilled water.  I did not give that guy one dime. 

Hopefully the fate of all children does not rest on this guy's shoulders.  They will surely be doomed.

My New Best Friend Ben

I have a new best friend named Ben. We have only met twice and he does not know that we are BFFs, but that is okay.  Ben works at The Dealership where I took my car the other day.  I took my car in on Saturday for an oil change and was told I have a major transmission leak. Who knew? Not me apparently. Ben gave me a rental car and promised me that mine would be fixed on Monday. Thank God for warranties.  When I told B this he said, "yeah, right it will be ready on Monday."  I told him Ben was different and I believed him.

You see, we have a history with The Dealership and with Frank, my last service advisor or whatever they call themselves.  When I first leased this vehicle, it came with free satellite radio for 6 months.  Within 3 months the damn thing had stopped working. After calling the satellite radio company and performing crazy circus contortions like:

Press the On button and hold for 3 seconds

Next open the driver's door and shut really quickly

Then press Satellite

Open the driver's door again but keep open for 2 minutes

(you get the point), the satellite radio people told me it was my receiver and to take it back from whence it came.  So I ended up at The Dealership with Frank.  After giving me a rental and taking two days to look at my car, Frank told me it was indeed my receiver. However, they were out of those and they were on backorder.  Off I went.

THREE MONTHS later I finally got a receiver and only because B got involved.  I would regularly call Frank and check on the receiver only to be told the same thing - on back order. Frank also gave me the number to the car manufacturer customer service which I utilized to complain about the lack of movement to no avail.  Frank promised me that my satellite radio service would be extended so I would not miss out on my free service.

B finally got involved right after we got back from our honeymoon. He called Frank because he had HAD ENOUGH.  There was a lot of

yelling

and cursing

and logic such as

 "How is it possible that there is a satellite radio receiver shortage in this country? What are they putting in the new cars?" and

"Why don't you go take one of the satellite radios in one of the billion cars on your lot and install it in our #^@&#^@* car and then wait for a backordered one for the unsold car. This is RIDICULOUS!"

So Frank assured B that we would have a radio within a week. We had it the next day. THE NEXT DAY. Now I was livid.  And, actually so was B.  He took to that customer service call center like a dog to a bone, or in our case, the cats to some catnip.  It went a little something like this:

"How absolutely sexist can your company, The Dealership and Frank be? My wife has been calling every couple of days about this problem.  But the minute I, a man, calls, the radio is somehow miraculously found THE NEXT DAY.  Are we supposed to sit here and believe that is true?  Either Frank lied to us all along and there was a radio, or you and Frank decided to kick it in to high gear now that a man was involved.  I thought we were past those days, but apparently not."

There was more said, but you get the picture.  As a result of B's calls, the following occurred:

I got an apologetic phone call from Frank

I got an apologetic phone call from Frank's supervisor

I got an apologetic phone call from the car manufacturer customer service

I got 6 more months free satellite radio

They paid one of my monthly car payments

B rocks me world! Even he was impressed with all that was done after his call which, of course, just confirmed his theory that yelling gets things done.

Now, when I see Frank at The Dealership, he just averts his eyes.  Which brings me back full circle. You can see why B did not think the car would be ready.  However, he totally underestimated my BFF Ben. The car was ready by noon on Monday.  I went to pick it up and overheard the following exchange between Ben, Frank and unknown third service guy:

Ben:  Guys, I am going to leave some CDs in my upper left drawer for Ms. Smith when she comes in tomorrow. If I am not here, that is where they are, okay?

Unknown: Yep

Frank: [silence]

Ben: FRANK? Did you hear what I said?

Frank: Yes.

Ben: What did I say Frank? [totally said in a long drawn out tone you would use for a 2 year old]

Frank: It's in your upper left drawer.

Ben: What is in my upper left drawer Frank?

Frank: Ms. Smith

Ben: NO FRANK, Ms. Smith is not in my upper left drawer.  What is in there? [now I am cracking up]

Frank: Ms. Smith?

Ben: CDS FRANK, there are CDS in my upper left drawer.

Frank was schooled by Ben.  And that is why he is my new BFF.  B laughed when I told him this story.  I told B that if Ben had been on the satellite radio problem we would have had it in a week.

B - slayer of Frank, The Dealership and car manufacturers in one fell swoop

Ben - slayer and schooler of Frank

I love the men in my life!

Just Another Manic Black Friday

Yes, this post is less than timely, but I still want to post it.  You see, B has this new thing where he shops on Black Friday.  I avoid even thinking about shopping on that day or the day after. B, however, thinks he has become a master because he does a "shop online, pick up in store" maneuver. This worked out quite well for him last year when he bought our 42" flat screen TV and then picked it up in the store about a half hour later with virtually no wait.

This year he decided we needed another smaller flat screen for the living room (the bigger one is in the den/game room).  Who am I to argue with this logic? So he orders from the same place, again to be picked up, but this time at a location closer to us.  This year was not like last year.  First, I went with him to pick it up although I did not know that at the time. It was like a surprise party that you didn't really want, but was forced to attend anyway.

We were on our way to help his sister move when he said we were going to make a "quick stop" to pick up the TV.  I told him that was NOT a good idea.  It was just before 11 and mad Black Friday shoppers were still out in force.  He dismissed my concerns.  After zipping into the parking lot, he parked, told me I could wait in the car, declared he would be "right back" and ran off.  For the next FORTY MINUTES I sat in that freezing car watching the shoppers go in and come out (usually without purchases interestingly enough), and wondered if we would ever get to help his sister move.

B finally called and told me to pull the car around as close to the door as possible.  It was obvious he had not been outside in some time as there was no way to just stop the car in front of the store with the steady and quite crazed stream of traffic in and out of the parking lot.  However, I made a valiant effort and managed to squeeze into a spot right outside the front door.  Although I would like to attribute this to my majorly awesome driving skills, the fact is the place was starting to clear out.  Either all of the specials were had or the shoppers needed lunch.  

Parked, I see no sign of B.  Try calling and get no answer. So I go inside and find him in the craziest longest line for "web pickup" ever. Seriously. There was NO ONE waiting to check out at the regular cashier but about 20-30 people in this line and the return line. Apparently some people had already purchased, took home, and were now returning their items from that morning. Then there was the lady there to get a price difference.  Not sure they honor those on Black Friday, but whatever. I was relieved to see B at the front of the line.

As I walk up, his transaction is complete and they tell us they will pull the item so we should step off to the side. B is disgusted and tells me there are only two people running for items and that "tall skinny guy better get his ass back here."  Oh, you mean the guy I just saw leave the store?  B was getting redder and angrier. I was kind of wishing I was back in the cold car.  In fact, I took that opportunity to go clean out the back of my car for the TV as I was not expecting to pick one up when we left.  When I return, B is in the same place ready to explode.  

So, he walks up to the first woman he sees who I believe to be a manager, based on her outfit, and asks her quite angrily if someone is going to help him. I do not know what B said exactly as I could not really hear, but I certainly heard and saw what came next:

The lady put her hand in front of her face, flat palmed, moved it in a circular motion over her face as if clearing it, pointed to herself and said to B:

"Are you talking to ME?"

I thought B's head was going to explode. I heard him yell something like "I'm talking to whomever will help me out" (with a lot of cursing involved as well), saw the guy next to B raise his eyebrows and turn away like he didn't want to be involved, and I just put my head into my hand.  I thought two things:

1. How are we going to get out of here with our TV in one piece without either this lady getting killed or B getting killed; and

2. How on earth did that lady think it was okay to say to a customer "Are you talking to ME?" like she was in an Al Pacino movie (or whatever guy movie that was from - guy bloggers - help?).

Amazingly enough, after that crazy reaction, the woman jumped into gear and TWENTY MINUTES later we were finally out of the store with the TV.  There was a problem "releasing" us so we went from cash register to cash register which also provided me with some amusement as at the first register, a guy came up to purchase stuff, saw how involved we were and went to the next register.  However, because of our problems we had to go to the next register, just in time to cut him off again before he could get his purchases rang up.  He, unlike B, did not yell.  Because of that, he still may be at the store waiting for his purchases to be rung up. Who knows.

B is of the opinion that nothing gets done unless you yell. I do not believe that to be true but he keeps proving it to me time and time again.  I did insist that he apologize to the woman and he did - twice.  In  her defense, she did also apologize to us at the end. For our wait. Not for her crazy mime demonstration and ridiculous comment, however.  Nope, I guess that was perfectly acceptable.

There you have it.  And here's the breakdown:

New TV $some hundreds of dollars

Blood Pressure medicine for B $10

Witnessing a manager of a store say "Are you talking to ME" while moving her hand over her face? 

Priceless.