Friday, December 31, 2010

One! One! One! One!

The new year brings us one-one- one one. That has to be lucky, especially if you are a nerdy number lover like me or are a computer programmer who loves binary numbers. I like the sound of one one one one. Or, even one one eleven. I like the way it looks. I love the number eleven. It's gonna be a great year!

Speaking of a great year, 2010 wasn't too shabby. I thought it'd be fun to look back at 2010 in the Addiverse.......this diddy is from Book de la Face's "My Year in Status, 2010." You don't get to pick which status (stati?) they use, but I'm glad they managed to get Lady Gaga, the LLL gang, the new job, various family members, the wife and the sausages in there.

Top Five Things I said in 2010:
"I hate my phone."
"Have you seen my wallet?"
"I have to do my money."
"Where are my keys?"
"Have I told you how much I hate my phone?"

I do indeed hate my phone. Texting is almost impossible and I love to text. I push the "abc" button and the letter "w" pops up. It takes me three days to write a two sentence text. I hang up on almost everyone who calls me because when I push the answer button, it clicks on "done" and hangs up. I can never retrieve my messages because when I try to enter the passcode, the wrong numbers punch in, even though I'm punching in the correct numbers. Don't talk to me about calibrating it--you can't calibrate something that doesn't recognize that you are actually touching it. Hell-rizon is oh-so-helpful. Not. Well, it looks and sounds good, so that's a plus.

Best Accessory: Bling Bling! Class Ring.
Wore my high school class ring for almost a year in preparation for our 30th reunion. How can you have a bad year if you are wearing your high school class ring? You can't! It was a sad, sad moment when I finally took it off. At times, I look lovingly at my ring finger and get a warm, tingly glow....that was one good party and one rockin' ring.

Most likely to be seen wearing: My high school class reunion sweatshirt.
Wore it every day while on vacation. Wore it to walk, to work, to bed, to church. Why, here I am wearing it while in a Bobcat:Most consumed food: Chocolate.
By Far. For the 48th year in a row. Was there any doubt? I should buy stock in Dove Dark Chocolate. Those ten pounds I gained this year? They are surely a gift of all the chocolate I have consumed. For the record: I'm good with it. Chocolate makes it worth it. Besides, I got to buy all new pants again. I've moved on to "mom jeans." Can't be hangin' the muffin over my old, don't fit, low-riders. I'm embracing my perimenopausal-hood. Well, kind of. Okay, so I'm a bitch about the whole thing. I'm still good with all that chocolate.

Favorite dessert (third year in a row): The wife's home-made lemon cake. Oh my! I get a tear just thinking about it. Is it my birthday yet???

Best concert:
Lady Gaga.
I enjoyed many concerts this year, but being a little monster was the best by far. Here's a pretend gaga peeing in the hallway:
Okay, so she's not really peeing. (This photo demonstrates that my phone can actually do something: it can take photos. Hey, I'll take it!) I liked this concert so much that I am going again in February 2011. I am going by myself! I couldn't care less. I'm sure I can find one or two little monsters who will gladly dance with me. Side note: I went on line to see how much the seat next to me is selling for--it wasn't hard to find when you are searching for one seat in a particular section. Well, it's selling for $500. I bet he or she will dance with me if they just paid $500 to sit next to this dancing fool. No, I did NOT pay $500. I save that kind of foolish spending for Madonna. I got my ticket for $85. I will not be telling the person who buys the seat next to me that this is what I paid. I don't want them to cry. I want them to dance with me! (It IS worth $500 to be seated with me for Lady Gaga. Just sayin')

Best way to spend evenings after work: hanging out in the "Park" with the gaybors. Notice Lucy is not in the photo. That's because she's off to the left, having a nervous breakdown & being anti-social. She has a hard time with other dogs. Sigh. For us, this is a very stress free, low key kind of way to be. For Lucy, it's like water boarding. Maybe next summer she'll come to learn to love the "park" and Bitty Bichon......

Best place to show off tattoos: a wedding.Not only "a" wedding, but the absolute best wedding I have ever attended. That's saying a lot. You know it's a great wedding when people are removing clothes to show off their ink.

The wife's favorite 2010 investment: wood floors. The dogs aren't so keen on them, but the wife is VERY excited. As you can see, Freckles just isn't too sure about how she is going to get down these new wooden stairs.

I could go on and on, but I have to go look for my wallet, do my money and bitch about my phone.

Happy New Year! Get out there and shout, ONE ONE ONE ONE!
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Wednesday, December 29, 2010

An Ultra-Good Day in the Addiverse

When I came home from work today, the wife presented me with a package that had come in the mail. It had no return address...just my name & the postage. I pondered on the contents for about five milli-seconds:Being the "livin' on the edge" kind of girl that I am, I wasted no time on concerns related to safety--I ripped that puppy right open:

To my absolute delight, it was a present better than almost any other I could have ever received:

OB ULTRA TAMPONS!!!!!

SCORE!

I immediately broke out in an energetic version of the "OB Ultra tampon Dance of Joy:


Yeah, baby! That's what I'm talkin' about!

I have nothing more to say besides "thank you, oh great-gifter-of-the-tampons."

The photos say it the best.

I can't wait to menstruate!
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Friday, December 24, 2010

Yes, OB...there really IS a Santa Claus

Ah, Linus and the Christmas monologue. A classic, indeed. Thought I best start this irreverent blog with at least a smidgen of respect to this holiday. "But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for see--I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people."

I swear to you that the event in this blog is true. I couldn't make this kind of stuff up, anyways.

Yesterday, while minding my own business, I received a message via Book de la Face. It was from a high school friend of whom I have not seen since high school....which was one or two years ago. Ha ha. Anyways, I got this message:

"Hi Addi Warrior Princess,
This is kind of a weird post, but I was just catching up on reading your blog and saw your dilemma about the OB ultra. I happen to have a box with just one missing. I don't like OB and would be happy to send the box to you if you want them.
"

I gasped!

As I couldn't believe my eyes, I read the message again. Yup, that's what it said!

A tear came to my eye and I let out a whoop and a holler, scaring the dogs and scaring the neighbors. Someone had OB ultra tampons and she was willing to share them.

OB TAMPONS ARE GOING TO COME TO ME IN THE MAIL!!!!

This is a Christmas miracle!!!!

Apologies to you who are mortified that I am associating the birth of Christ with a box of tampons.

I was overcome with joy. After I was able to stop hyperventilating, I realized I should offer this fabulous human being something for her generous offer. My car? My stash of chocolate? The wife?

Nothing is sacred when scoring OB Ultra tampons.

So, I offered to pay a premium price for both the actual tampons and the postage. Being the angel from above that this person is, she wrote back:

"Really, think of this as pay it forward. I am sure you share of things for people and wanting nothing in return. They are just sitting in the cabinet and I would rather give them to someone who will use them."

Yes, OB....there really IS a Santa Claus!

So, thank you, kind-no-be-liking-ob-ultras-lady. You are an unsuspecting angel in the perimenopausal world better known as the Addiverse.

To the rest of you beloved readers: I wish you a very Merry Christmas, indeed! Ho ho ho!

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Don't Fly Like an Eagle

Allow me one more minute on my soap box. Whenever I wonder why I can't forgive, I think of the dogs. I know I've written about this before, but now that the rumblings are that a certain Eagle will be the NFL's MVP, I can't NOT write about it.

What if Michael Vick is awarded MVP for this year's NFL season?

There is huge potential this could happen....and, I don't think I can take it.

I love football. Love, love, love.

I do not love Michael Vick.

I thought I was all about redemption--after all, I am Xena's biggest fan and she's all about redemption--but, I just can't get there with him. For Pete's sake, I'm a counselor--if I thought people couldn't change, I wouldn't be in the field. My career is based on the fact that people can and do change.

So, what keeps me from believing that Michael Vick has changed?

Maybe it's because every time I look at my dogs and then look at him, I just do not understand. Of course, I love my dogs more than I like most people, so this isn't really fair to him. How do I know? Of course, I don't know. None of us knows. Hell, Michael Vick really doesn't know.

He's playing out of this world football. I can't--I won't cheer for him, I won't pick him for my fantasy team, I hate even writing about him. I don't want to give him one more milli-second of my time, but here I am, doing just that. He's gonna be MVP and the world will celebrate him.

Does that even matter in pro football if he is or is not a changed man? After all, the object is to knock the piss out of each other. There are all sorts of criminals playing in the NFL. From murderers to rapists, they are on the field making a zillion dollars each. I love football. I don't lose much sleep over those criminals. Why? Why is this so different for me?

Where is my spirit of redemption, of paying your debt? He has paid his debt to society. He completed his prison term. He has paid his fines. Yet, here I am, passionately angered that some guy who has nothing to do with me is going to get an award.

Here are my dogs. This explains a lot to me.

I am very disappointed in myself for not being able to let this go, but it is what it is.

I had originally posted a photo of why I cannot forgive him, how I cannot believe he has served his time and now should be forgiven. It was not an easy photo to look at, but it is what I think of when I think of him. 

I removed the photo but it still haunts me.  Google it if you want to see it, but be warned, it is disturbing beyond compare.  How can yet let a dog look like this and move on and then have the balls to see you'd like a dog for a pet?

I'm sorry, Michael.
I am sorry I judge you.
It's not my business.
No one left me in charge.
I would hope others would forgive me.
I would like to forgive you.
I really, really want to believe you have changed.
But, I don't.

THIS is the reason I have yet to let this go: the dogs.



If he ever does get a dog, I hope that dog bites his parts off and leaves him to bleed to death.

Not a very Christian thing to say at this time of year, eh?

I promise to be funny and irreverent and shallow next post. For today, this is where I am. This is who I am: a judgmental wench who can't let this image go....and, I'm all good with that.

I hope he doesn't win MVP. But, he will.

Mark my words: He will be this year's MVP because others can forgive him or because others don't care about what he did or because others actually think it's wrong he got in "trouble" for his dog fighting rings or because the NFL is full of all sorts of criminals--what's one more?

He will win because he had a kick-ass year, dead dogs be damned. That's all that matters in the long run. No one ever said you had to be a good person to win an award and get paid insane amounts of money.

Me? I am going to love my dogs like there is no tomorrow and for this moment cheer against a certain football player.

Like I said, I've written about this before. I hope I don't have to write about it again.
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Friday, December 17, 2010

Just the scoop, poop

While driving to work this morning, I realized two things: one, that I had forgotten to post a blog last night; and, two, I am going to have to poop at work.

The blog part would is easy enough to address. Once done with work today, I knew I'd have time to write the blog.

The pooping thing, on the other hand, would NOT be easy.

I was driving along, smiling and humming in a most obnoxious way, now concentrating on blog topics and Christmas shopping (of which I really have tried to ignore). While zipping through the traffic, I scanned my brain for various topics. I came to the realization that I had nothing really on my mind, nothing bothering me, nothing profound floating around in the deep recesses of my subconscious. I'm a happily boring person right now (well, as boring as I can be). Besides a lack of O.B. tampons, I have nothing to whine about....

I chewed on that for a few seconds. What a wonderful place to be, I thought. Had I not been stuffed into winter regalia, I would have rubbed my gratitude tattoo in honor of this moment.

As I was driving and smiling and feeling grateful, I realized I was going to have to poop.

At work.

Some of you have no problem pooping anywhere---you can probably poop on the sidewalk if you had to. Pooping at work is no big deal. But, for me? It's not an option. Why?

Because the office bathroom is IN the office. Seriously.

You read that right: the bathroom is in the actual office, which means everyone can hear and smell you poop. There is no escaping. There is no pretending. There is no blaming others. I love talking about poop but I don't want to talk about my poop that I just made in the office bathroom, which is less than seven feet from my peer's desk and five feet from my own desk. I don't want to be sitting on the toilet thinking about how everyone knows what I am doing in there. Although I think my poop is like apple blossoms, I know that others don't find that to be true.

Why we have a bathroom in our office is beyond the scope of this blog. Just know that I am not exaggerating. It is what it is.

I'm the boss. Bosses don't poop seven feet away from their workers!

I knew there would be three staff in the office upon my arrival. At this time of day, there would be no chance of an empty office. My poop would be known to all.

I started to sweat. If this were a three stall bathroom down the hall, that'd be different. But, this! This is bathroom hell!

Lost in thought, I almost drove into the back of a stopped car. I began to sweat.....what the hell do I do if a fart squeaks out?

I thought about turning around and going home.

I'm not going to tell you how I resolved this issue, but I will tell you that I did NOT poop at work. I just couldn't do it. I could not not not not do it.

(No, I did not poop in my car or on the sidewalk.)

As I will be in this office setting for the tenure of this assignment, I am going to have to come up with a pooping plan. I'm going to have to have a system and it won't include pooping in that office/bathroom setting. I'll have to get back to you after I figure out a pooping plan.

Until then, I'm going to have to stay home until I poop or eat cheese all week to keep me from pooping at all.......

Aren't you glad I remembered to post a blog today?
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Friday, December 10, 2010

Getting Civilized

Finally! Finally I shall speak of civil unions in the State of Illinois. Yes, the not-so-progressive, so-broke-it-can't-pay-its-bills State of Illinois passed legislation making civil unions legal in the state. While it has yet to be signed by the Governor (dunno what he's waiting for), the law is ready for action upon his John Hancock. Starting June 1st, same sex and opposite sex couples can get civilized in the State of Illinois.....

.....How awesome is that? You don't have to be gay to be civilized in the State of Illinois
. Ha ha!

If you are a nerd like me, you can read the actual legislation, found at Illinois General Assembly Civil Union Yadda Yadda. (Yes, you can ckick on that and get to the legal stuff. I find it quite interesting!) Basically, it says in order to get civilized, you have to be 18, you can't be related, you have to be single (not married and/or officially divorced--thank goodness I know where my divorce papers are!) and willing to follow a red tape trail similar to what people trying to get married swim through. I don't remember seeing anything about blood tests or such, but it's still early in the game. Details are soon to follow, I am sure.

Once signed into law by the Governor, we'll legally be able to visit each other in the hospital, live in the same nursing home room & get our grubby little hands on each other's retirement. Trust me, this works much more in my favor than the wife's favor. She can gladly have all $1.37 of my retirement fun.

If you are looking for lively banter about the pros and cons of civil unions vs. traditional marriage or an argument that civil unions aren't enough or spirited rantings about what Jesus would or would not have done in regards to same-sex couples getting together in a legal fashion or counter-arguments to concern that civil unions soil the sanctity of marriage, you won't find it here.

I am here to celebrate and party and boogie!

As far as I can tell, the actual event of getting civilized really isn't very romantic; in fact, it is more like a business partnership. You fill out some papers, you go to the clerk, you pay some money, you become civilized, you get some rights. The wife likes to look at it as a business transaction.

Whatever works. I'm all good with it. I asked, she said yes--that's what really matters. Well, that and jewelry. I anticipate she will be watching for new jewelry to enter her life in the next months. I do not anticipate a white-dress-church-ceremony shin dig (sorry, Wild mama), so don't be digging out any old bride's maid dresses just quite yet.

As it is a legal partnership, it is public record, which to me is no big deal. Who cares if our names end up in the paper announcing our application for civil union or if we end up on some county record? I hope that public record business leads to oodles of civil union congratulation gifts. (Side note: When the wife and I get civilized, anyone wishing to give us gifts should feel free to do so. We've been shelling out tons of money & gifts for your weddings, anniversaries, holidays, showers and various kiddie events for over a quarter of a century. A toaster, blender, box of ultra OB tampons, money, year's supply of Dove Dark Chocolate, personal checks, Benjamins, Packer Gear, cold hard cash, Xena paraphernalia and gift cards will graciously be accepted. Place-settings of china should probably be reserved for traditional heterosexual weddings, as we have no use for china. That's why they invented paper plates, isn't it?)

Here's the thing: having a civil union as public record is a HUGE deal for many of our teacher friends....and, for this I am very sad. I'd say over half of our friends are teachers, so this has the potential to severely cut down the volume of "Just Civilized" parties next summer. See, many teachers around these parts aren't able to be/choose not to be openly gay at work. It's almost a "don't ask, don't tell" kind of world. Many of our teacher friends are "out" in their private lives, but in the educational work world, not so much. So, when we asked various friends if they were "getting civilized," many of our teacher friends said NO. The reason? They are fearful of losing their jobs due to the nature of the event--civil unions are public record.

"Oh come on!" you say. "They can't be fired for being gay--that's illegal!"

Please don't tell me you believe that. Please tell me you didn't say that!

One can always be fired for one thing or another despite the reason truly being sexual orientation. (Actually, one can be fired for anything in Illinois, but let's not argue the pros and cons of at-will employment until everyone has consumed at least a six pack of beer each.) Discrimination based on sexual orientation is alive and well....and strong. Those hate-mongers picket just about everything that moves, have political clout and can be very organized.; thus, I respect the concerns of our teacher friends. They have a point that I hadn't considered when flitting in glee about the actual passage of the civil union bill. Now, I'm not saying all gay teachers are worried about this and I'm not going to argue whether or not teachers who don't go through with civil unions are the exact people that need to do it and I know many of our teacher friends will indeed be getting civilized without a second thought, but.....

A few nights ago, we were out to dinner with a teacher friend who teaches in a small, conservative, rural district. Despite being in a four billion year committed relationship, there is no way in hell she will agree to a civil union--trust me, I believe her when she says the town would know quickly and she'd be unemployed faster than you can say "bridal registry." They would love to have a legal recognition of their long term relationship....but, it won't be happening any time soon.

Did someone say bridal registry??? Hmmmm......good idea. Write that down.

Oh my, this is getting way too gloomy for such a happy topic! Let's get back to the happier, shinier merits of getting civilized. A whole ton of us will get civilized at the same time. We will party. We will celebrate together like there is no tomorrow. We will dance to tacky wedding songs like "Celebration" and "We Are Family." We will do the "Chicken Dance." We will give a whole new meaning to getting civilized. Do you realize how many people we know that will literally be getting civilized within hours of each other? A whole ton of fabulous, loving people! From people we've known for over 25 years to people we've just met, we are going to party.

Hmmmmmm......I'm gonna need to recruit my straight friends to serve as the bridesmaids as (1) they have all the experience in this department; (2) they look good in dresses; (3) they have been uber-supportive over the years and thus have earned the honor; and, (4) all my gay friends will be busy in line getting their civil unions on. Hear that, MJagger and Culver Griffendoor? You've got work to do. Pressure's on!

You know what's really kinda funny?????

......We are all gonna end up with the same anniversary date!

Please tell me we are not all going on a honeymoon together. ;-)
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Thursday, December 09, 2010

Oh No: OB No OB really No OB

Again, the civil union blogging must wait. I have heard from the company that makes OB tampons! The news is not good. And, I quote:

"Dear Addi Warrior Princess,

Thank you for contacting McNeil-PPC, Inc., makers of o.b.® Ultra Absorbency Tampons. It is always important to hear from our consumers, and we appreciate the time you have taken to contact us.

Unfortunately, our o.b.® Ultra Absorbency Tampons has been discontinued. We are sorry for any inconvenience this may cause for you. We assure you that your feedback will be shared with our marketing management. Please note that we do not sell our products on a direct basis, nor do we keep inventory of discontinued products on hand for distribution to consumers or retailers. All remaining inventory of this item has been shipped to our distributors.

We encourage you to try one of the other fine products we offer. Please do look for our products at pharmacies, grocery stores and mass merchandisers."

In other words, "You are so screwed. We ain't making this product anymore and stop asking if we have a hidden supply. We don't stockpile this stuff like squirrels. Your hemorrhaging is of no concern to us. Stuff a roll of paper towels between your legs. Stop whining and stop writing!"

Who has time to go Christmas shopping? I have tampons to find!

Sunday, December 05, 2010

o.b. no be

I really, really want to write about the whole civil union thing, but I keep getting distracted. First, it was the wife's altered check. Then, the wife received tenure at the college (yeah for my favorite pedagogist! Congrats!) and I was too busy updating my book de la Face status in celebration of her accomplishment to write about getting civilized. Then, I got my period.

That said (and, I know you wish I hadn't said it), I have been busy fretting about tampons instead of writing about civil unions.

I've been traveling the globe, looking for these:

o.b. Ultra Tampons.

Now, I KNOW you really don't want to read about "Aunt Flo being in town" or my need for tampons that have the word "ultra" in them, but I.AM.TRAUMATIZED!

I've been traveling store to store on a mission to find these little bullets of cotton, but have been stymied in the process. They are nowhere--not at Wally World, not at Walls of Green, not at Bull's Eye, not at any mart of any kind.

Why? Why can't I find them? It's not like I'm looking for the Holy Grail or Elvis or anything. I'm just looking for a box of ultra tampons.

I decided to try traveling the Amazon, as they seem to have connections to everything. Unfortunately, EVERY person/place/thing selling o.b. tampons are "currently unavailable," as illustrated in this photo I made:





















(I know, I know--who makes photos of trying to buy tampons? My photo is pretty funny. It's even funnier if you look at my bookmark toolbar...complete with button for quick Xena Warrior Princess quotes.)

I then tried the world's busiest on-line auction site, only to learn that a box of 40--ONE box--is up to $35.00 with more time to go. Yes, you read that correctly: one box of tampons for $35.00:














Trust me, I thought about bidding.


At this point, I realized something was very wrong. Then, I began to tremble. What....what.... what if they have stopped making these things? If people are willing to pay $35 for a box of tampons, it's a safe bet that something is terribly amiss in the world of feminine hygiene products.

So, I did a quick internet search.....and learned that they've stopped making these things.

Of course, I panicked.

I then breathed into a paper bag, wrote an email to the company, breathed into a paper bag and read some of the information out there from women who are on the same quest as me.

The best website I found was http://writethecompany.com/sizing-up-o-b-tampons

Trust me, it is worth the visit to this website, so if you are just sitting there, give it a whirl. There are some really hilarious posts AND I felt like I found my kindred spirits. For what it's worth, o.b. tampons are still available in Germany....but, they will not (cannot?) ship to the good ol' U.S. of A.

Road trip, anyone??
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Friday, December 03, 2010

Check.Mate

Here's to Ron Santo. Dude, you are so in my Hall of Fame. Here's hoping you get that World Series win now that you have gone to the great ball field in the sky. Santo, Kissinger, Beckert, Jenkins, Banks. Awesome childhood memories.


I'm sure most of you think I am going to write about Illinois passing the Civil Union bill....and, you would've been right.........but, it has to wait. I must harass the wife for writing me a bad check.

I was minding my own bee's wax yesterday morning when I decided to check my on-line bank account. I like to do this occasionally--mostly because I forget to record what I've spent, but also because I don't trust my bank as far as I can throw them--ever since the take-over, I have been less than impressed. So, imagine my surprise when I see a withdrawal for $500 that I have no recollection of making. For some of you, $500 is chump change. For me, it's the lotto. After I calm down and stop swearing about how much I hate my bank (almost as much as I hate my cell phone, and that is saying a lot), I look to see what the withdrawal was for--an "ATM adjustment." What the hell does that mean?

I don't have time--or money!--for unknown ATM adjustments!

I started to write some hate e-mail, but that seemed too slow--I needed immediate answers. I started to make some calls, but the dang bank wasn't open in the early hours. I am LIVID! How can one check clear and the other not clear? I HATE THAT BANK!

I re-gain my composure, focus on all the things for which I am grateful (mantras like, "I'm grateful I even have a bank account, I am thankful I had $500 in the first place, I am grateful I learned of this before bouncing checks across the nation") and decide to wait until I talk to an actual person at the bank before taking my bank's name in vain. It is when I finally speak to a very patient, calm customer service person who tells me I will be getting the rejected check back as, "ma'am, the check was altered. For your safety, the check cannot be cashed. Your account has been adjusted, as we could not cash the altered check."

Altered check? I stop and tip my head, quizzically.

Altered check?

Then, I remember: THAT'S the check the wife re-wrote the sum....and, THAT'S the check I literally said to her, when she handed it to me: "They aren't going to take a check like that."

She assured me they would most certainly accept the check. "I wrote the words right there. I initialed the changes."

And, even though my first response was "they aren't gonna accept that," and even though I looked at that check three or four times and thought, "they aren't gonna accept that check," I didn't ask for a new check, I didn't argue, I didn't do anything but shrug my shoulders, deposit the check and think nothing more of it.

Until this morning.

That customer service rep took the sails right out of my "I hate my bank" sails. I thanked her for her time and then added mention of being grateful that the bank actually pays attention to that kind of thing.

I can't complain too badly, as this is a perfect "I told you so" opportunity. As nothing managed to bounce, I can make even more fun of this. Had checks started bouncing across the nation, I'm not sure how entertained I would have been.

I apologize to my bank for all those evil thoughts I had about them. (For the record: I do not apologize to my phone for how much I hate it. But, that's a whole 'nuther story.)
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We'll talk about "getting civilized" next post. Until then, I have to go run to the bank. I have to deposit that new check the wife just handed me....
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