Hurricane I

Sometimes, I'm ashamed of my country. It doesn't happen often, but everytime some crazy fundie decides that a Muppet or a cartoon character has a secret gay agenda, then yes, I am ashamed of my country. What makes it even worse is that someone feels the need to issue a statement from the character's creater, reassuring the public that the Teletubbies, Bert and Ernie, and now, SpongeBob Square Pants not only lack organs, the ability to breathe, think or do anything else that real people do, they also lack a sex drive. In light of that, why is this statement necessary?

SpongeBob's creator, Stephen Hillenburg, 43, said the allegations are far-fetched and his agenda does not go beyond fun and entertainment.

Um, duh. But as Andrew Sullivan noted (I have yet to figure out how to link to him beyond the general website, sorry kids), the worst part about this whole deal is the claim that SpongeBob et al are being "exploited to promote the acceptance of homosexuality" (emphasis mine). I would mock them even if they were content to lable random cartoons as gay. But that doesn't seem to be good enough anymore. Now, it seems we're supposed to be against acceptance of gay people, witnessed also by Education Secretary Margart Spellings v. "Postcards from Buster". Thus, I am ashamed of my country.

I'm fairly sure that you don't have to pay to read this excellent, excellent argument by Steve Hely about why all the Cabinet Secretaries need secret, maverick spy forces with their names tatoo'd on the back of their necks. (Actually, Hely doesn't talk about the need for tatoos, I stole that part from the Daily Show.) And then maybe you can figure out why I love this publication.

A Brief List Of Things I Will Do Immediately Upon Becoming Officially Employed:

-Call My Mother And Cry
-Call Everyone In My Cell Phone Book (Excluding Ex-Boyfriends Who Hate Me But Whose Numbers Have Not Been Deleted For Some Reason) And Tell Them How Awesome My Life Is
-Get Massively and Awesomely Drunk In A Real Bar And Not At Home From Cheap Ghetto 7/11 Liquor
-Drunken Dial Some Of The Same People From Before (And perhaps the ex-boyfriends who hate me)
-Go Shopping And Buy Shoes (Preferrably not while drunk, but hey, that might be fun too. I think that's how people end up with Uggs.)
-Try To Figure Out What To Wear To My First Week Of Work, Decide I Have No Clothes And Go Shopping Again

Sometimes, we all need to take a moment to thank all those crazy religious people who think that innocent, asexual cartoon characters are out to pervet The Children. Seriously. Because otherwise, the good people at McSweeney's couldn't tell me about the glorious gay cartoon orgy, and my life would be incomplete.

(Hat Tip:Charlie)

I completely concur, though in the official platform of the India Party, I'll probably leave out the religious overtones. Hillary can do it, but I cannot.

Okay, so just like in the IAT test where they find that people who spend a lifetime fighting a particular kind of bigotry tend to have that same prejudice, I now give you the Parental Television Council's rejected complaints to the FCC. My favorite:

"The Next Joe Millionaire," October 28, 2003, 8 p.m. EST: the complaint alleges that a character says "fuck off." Based on our review of the tape, however, this description is inaccurate in that no character appears to utter the quoted language.

This cracks me up. They are so paranoid over there at the PTC that they start imagining foul language. Also funny: complaints over a cartoon character's naked butt. Please. Can we spend that money on something useful like, oh, I don't know, the deficit?


(Hat Tip: Charlie)

From the makers of the End of the World Video, comes A Paper. The site claims:

This is a real University Essay titled, "Planes, Trains, and Plantains: The story of Oedipus" submitted November 30, 2004. View all 7 pages, and be sure to see the final grade.

I dare you not to laugh your ass off. My favorite part was "Colors -1".

(Hat Tip: Jay Williams)

Somebody found my blog by doing a yahoo search for "india big ass girl". Some people think this is really funny.

I say to the Internet Gods who sent them to me, Fuck You.

Holy Shit. 50 points to the basketball team who can put a cheerleader in the basket. The best part of the video is the end where the guys are jumping around and smacking each other on the ass while she lookes pained.

(Hat Tip: Joel)

Apparently, Blogger did not eat the first post today. Either that, or Blogger did eat my post, but then decided to vomit up my post later. Either way, it now looks like I'm really obsessed with the IAT thing. That's sort of accurate, so I'm leaving both up.

I can't access the test, though. Every time I try, my computer freaks out. I figure a) my computer is biased against Harvard or b) our internet sucks big time.

Let me know if anyone does it. I might go to the ghetto scary library down the street and try it just for shits and giggles. We'll see.

Blogger just ate my last post, so here's the short version: The Washington Post has a fantastic, though massively long, article on the Implicit Association Test, a computer test developed by this chick at Harvard that is supposed to test unconscious prejudices towards certain groups. Read it and talk to me about it, because I'm fascinated by it (partly because it supports some of the papers I wrote at Vandy - I love being right.) It will take time to get through the article, but it really is worth it.

The link to the actual test: IAT

I haven't taken it yet, but I plan to take it later tonight.

Are you a bigot? Are you sure? You should take Havard's new Implicit Association Test, a test designed to measure unconscious biases towards certain groups. (The WaPo article is five pages long and will take 15-20 minutes to get all the way through it, but it's worth it.) The most interesting thing to me is that people who have spent their whole lives fighting for equality for one particular group or another tend to be just as biased against that particular group - i.e. the gay activists were stunned to realize that they had a negative bias towards homosexuals.

But that doesn't surprise me at all. The accepted wisdom in the Ivory Towers seems to be that the people who are most interested in fighting against certain prejudices are the ones who are hyper-aware of all the ways those preudices are expressed. People who don't associate with those groups just don't care. Example: I read a letter to the editor for TIME magazine about a month ago, and the person was all pissed off that TIME had apparently perpetuated some Polish stereotype. My first thought: Dude, get over yourself. My second thought: There's a Polish stereotype? (Does it involve sausage?) But if I walk into some networking event where I'm shilling for a job, I know in about 30 seconds how many women are in the room, and moreover, how many of those women are there for their job or for their husbands.

I had to get to the end of page 4 to get to the link to the test, so I'll save you the time: The Implicit Association Test from the Harvard website.

And no, I haven't taken it yet, though I plan to take it later today. I'm a little scared.

I have known for a long, long time now that politics was my calling. It's taking me a little longer to get started than I had hoped, but that doesn't remove the fact that I know what I am supposed to do with my life. Kind of like you know that the OC will dabble with barely-legal-hot pseudo-teenage-girl-on-girl action. It's just one of those things you know.

Some people, on the other hand, refuse to acknowledge what is staring them in the face. I do not understand this. To put it bluntly, Charlie Gasner, if you do not figure out how to make this law degree that you're attempting to obtain work for your writing career, then you will be giving the finger to the g i f t that some of us lie awake dreaming about. And then I'll have to kick your ass. And hire you as my speech-writer.

In a stunning twist of irony, today I got to attend the second Inaguration of President Bush. Some of my liberal friends claim that this is a stunning lack of judgement on my part. In my defense, it was really awesome, and I'm not sorry I went. (Sorry that Bush won the election, yes, but that's an entirely different matter.)

Apparently, we know this chick who worked for the reelection in Texas and now works for Trent Lott, and she gave us unbelieveably bad-ass tickets. For those of you that watched it, right above/behind the President's head there were some bleachers with the US Naval Academy choir, some other choir and us. We were RIGHT THERE. If nothing else, it was a fantastic view of the city. Very cold, but beautiful (I had thought at one point I was overdoing it wearing four layers of clothing, but I turned out to be the only non-frozen one. And I was still cold, but it was worth it). I took like 40 blurry pictures of John Kerry. John Kerry kissing some other Senator on the cheek. The back of John Kerry's head. John Kerry with a wire in front of his face because there was a microphone in my way. Then I spent some time fantasizing about John Kerry's Inaguration, and realized that I probably wouldn't have had seats this good. (Still, had it been my choice, I'd have picked option B. Okay, liberal friends?) Then the Govenors came in, and I got some blurry pictures of the Govenator. Not as exciting as John Kerry, but I couldn't see Hillary or DiFi, so he had to do.

Then Bush came in, and I realized anew how much I dislike the man. I had sort of managed to forget the reality that this whole deal represent. Worst Campaign Phrase Ever: Freedom Is On The March. I definitely paid more attention to the protestors that his speech - it was really fun to try and find them before the police did. My favorite was the guy who just started yelling "BOO!" at the end. It reminded me of The Princess Bride.

Has anyone else noticed that Bush is starting to make lots of references to slavery? First there was that Dred Scott reference in the debates (which TNR told me was actually code for "abortion"), and then there was that whole speech today. WTF, W?

Conclusion: The whole Inaguration would have been if Bush hadn't had to speak unless he was spoken to. And I do sort of wish I had managed to take a picture zoomed in on his ass, or something else grossly inappropriate.

In the South, we know all about WD40. But apparently, in England, it's now being used to prevent people from snorting cocaine off of toilet seats. Clearly, I know nothing about snorting cocaine, since that's what I thought pocket mirrors were for.

The best thing about British papers online is the comments section. American English is way different from English English.

(Hat Tip: Andrew Sullivan)

My favorite is still "This Land" but "Second Term" is also pretty funny. I like Condi's dress.

It's snowing today in DC, which is sort of fascinating me. I have wasted far too much time staring out of the window looking at the falling snow. See, snow like this is not usual where I come from, as this is definitely more than enough snow to make a small dirt colored snow blob.

I spent the first chunk of my life on the East Coast of Florida, where there were many seagulls. We lived by the ocean, seagulls were a part of life. It was also very warm there, so I tend to think of seagulls as a warm climate thing. Seagulls, margaritas, flip-flops, sand, and bikinis are all warm weather objects.

There are definitely seagulls in DC, which I tend to think is odd anyway, but today they are out flying around calling to each other in the falling snow. This is weirding me out. (Were I more gifted with that thing they call "writing ability" I would make up a conversation between these two seagulls that keep trying to sit on the top of the 7/11 like they always do. Only, they can't, because it's snowing. But they keep trying. Diligence.) Seagulls in a snowstorm.

And now I need to go duct tape the cracks in the windows so that the wind stays outside where it belongs. (With the seagulls, apparently.)

I am very proud of myself. Today, I succesfully talked the SunTrust people into giving me my $24 back. It was awesome. I went to a different branch on my way home from the Hill today, so I was in a business suit with my briefcase. I told the lady that I was very dissappointed with my service thus far, and I hoped she would be more helpful than the previous people. (I tried to walk that fine line between assertive and bitch, but I didn't really care if I crossed said line.) So she started out apologizing, which made my task of demanding things easier.

The funny thing is that she was tempted to tell me again that was in the wrong region and she therefore couldn't help me. But I preempted her - I told her that I called the Nashville branch and they told me to come visit a local branch. (Total lie. I learned these things from The Master.) So SunTrust lady went and asked her boss what to do, because the fact that I had closed my account and was still demanding money confused her. Clearly, Boss Lady told her to give me my $24, because this bank is huge, and $24 is not a lot of money to get rid of me. In other words, Victory Is Mine. I am done with SunTrust forever, and I encourage any and all of you to do the same.

Suck it, SunTrust. Suck it long, and suck it hard.

I'm sort of addicted to gambling, I've found. On a subtle level, this is sort of interesting, because I don't tend to gamble much with my real life. And while I do like to gamble, I don't like to gamble big money. Thus, $5 Poker Night is my new favorite weekend activity. (Ass Comment: Even Blackjack with the $5 chips can be a bit much. I don't like the pressure...but I'm not entirely sure that the pressure was from the money. It might also be because apparently there's a Right Way to bet in Blackjack and it doesn't appear to overlap much with The Way I Want To Bet Blackjack - sometimes, I just don't want to play based on the way a color-coded table tells me to play. So then I get yelled at, I feel stupid, stress out about betting the Right Way, and whoops, I've lost $100 and I didn't even enjoy it. Anyway. I digress.) With a $5 total buy-in, it's hard to stress out. It's hard to back away from calling someone's bet when you're pretty sure you can find that amount of money in the couch. So even in the worst case scenario, overall, it's cheap, which is good in my current life. I have yet to win any money, which is perhaps good because then I would probably explode.

Poker does take more skill than Blackjack, I've found after losing my first $5 in an hour and a half last weekend. Unlike Blackjack, I can win with shitty cards, if my shitty cards are less shitty than everyone elses, or if I make them think that my shitty cards are awesom. Amazing. Plus, I watched some Celebrity Poker on E! this week while doing my cover letters, and I'm a smart girl. Yay learning curve. Tonight, I'm only down ten cents, I lasted four hours, I successfully bluffed, and I won really big a couple of times. I should be in bed now, but I can't sleep because I'm still so worked up over my last (first, only) successful flush draw. (Because it worked. I was so excited. I went "all-in" with my $2.50, and I won. I had a horrible poker face, but that's okay. My bet got called only because my housemates wanted to make me show my hand because I was shaking and my face was bright red, i.e. the antithesis of a poker face. It was awesome.) I kind of wish I had stopped when I was up two dollars, but I can't help that my straight was beaten by a full house. And you can't not play a straight.

So I'm down a total of ten cents, and I had a great time. I love gambling small increments of money that don't overall impact the quality of my life. I plan to definitely do this more often.

Noooooooooooooooooooo!

On the other hand, I would really enjoy seeing a debate between Gore and Kerry. Hell, throw Hillary in there too. If that's the pool we're running, we don't have a chance anyway. May as well make it an intersting spectator sport.

(Hat tip: Wonkette)

Hee-hee. A major publication said "santorum".

In not-at-all related news, I'm going to visit the Hill tomorrow.

The following is a job blurb I wrote a cover letter for this afternoon (idenfiying information has been left off for obvious reasons):

Staff Assistant needed for Democratic office to manage front desk, greet constituents, answer telephones, arrange Capitol and White House tours and assist in handling Member's schedule.  Qualified applicants should have a very positive attitude, strong organizational skills, orientation to detail, and should possess strong verbal and written communication skills and the ability to multi-task.   Responsibilities will also include opening and sorting mail and faxes, assisting in data entry and management of the constituent mail system, drafting constituent correspondence and assisting the Member and Chief of Staff with various projects. The Staff Assistant is also responsible for some office administration, including maintaining office supplies and supervising office interns.

Now, I'd be a kick-ass Staff Assistant, so I usually don't have to think too much when I come across these. I just write them a letter and send it off. But what the hell does it mean to have "orientation to detail?" "Attention to detail" I understand. But "Orientation" confuses me.

Maybe it's because I'm used to seeing the word "orientation" preceeded by "sexual" that I'm confused. Maybe it's like when I see the word "Supreme" not immediately followed by "Court" I think of tacos.

Am I crazy?

Good Thing: It's amazing. I just got off the phone with the SunTrust lady, and wonder of wonders, she actually told me she couldn't help me. The whole phone call took less than two minutes.

Bad Thing: She told me to go back to the branch to get my money back. I told her that the manager there was the most unhelpful man I have ever encountered. She told me to go to a different branch. Boo.

I did not make any Resolutions for the New Year, since I couldn't think of anything worthwile to do for a year. And, who knows where I'll be a year from now? Instead, I made Until-I-Get-Employed Resolutions, or rather, Resolution, since there's really only one.

No Drinking Until Official Employment

And then I'm going out to get smashed. Gray areas: Liquor already in the house, and liquor bought for me with no expectations of payback.

It's been a week, and I've already come to the somewhat disturbing conclusion that this is going to be harder than I thought. Aside from the explaining a thousand times that I'm not drinking, (Yes, I know this is a bar. No, I really don't want you to buy me a drink out of pity) I really want to drink. I want a glass of wine when I get off the phone with Cingular. I want a beer while watching basketball. I want to partake of the pitcher of beer at the bar. I want to drink the Wild Turkey someone gave us because they didn't want it (Seriously, someone did not want their mostly full bottle of Wild Turkey. Clearly, we said, "Gobble, gobble"). One of my friends drunken-dialed me, and I thought wistfully, "I wish I were drunk, that sounds like fun." I want to drink not only for the taste, but for the warm, fuzzy happy feeling. This concerns me.

Alcohol and I did not begin our serious relationship until two years ago. We dabbled a bit before that, like at my uncle's wedding back in '84 and with the vacuum back in '98, but nothing serious until Band Punch brought us together. So while I'm not ready to call this relationship quits, I might have found my Resolution for 2006.

In case any of you wondered, I have not called the Customer Service people at SunTrust to demand my $24 back yet. I'm sort of afraid of that, so I avoided the confrontation today. I just didn't feel up to it.

Yeah, yeah, I know...

I can't win. I get all excited about my new cell phone, only to keep discovering new problems. Apparently, this phone, a Motorola V180 (EXACTLY the same phone that I'm giving back to T-Mobile on Monday) has decided to give the finger to Voicemail. I'm supposed to be able to push #1, hold it and get my voicemail. Not complicated - Exibit A: The idiots at T-Mobile figured it out.

But it doesn't work on my phone because it says that the voicemail number hasn't been programed yet. So I call Cingular to ask them what number I should store so I can get my voicemail. Clearly, this is a complicated question. Call #1:

India: I'm having problems with my voicemail. I try to press one and hold it, but it says that the number hasn't been stored yet.

Customer Service Rep #1: Okay. (furious clicking ensues for another 2 minutes 48 seconds. I was making tea,
in the microwave, so I know this.) Okay, you should be set. I reset your password.

India: Really?

CSR#1: Yeah, I reset your password.

India: But I hadn't set up a password yet.

CSR#1: Well, I didn't know if you had or not, so I just reset it.

India: But will that work?

CSR#1: Oh yes. Is there anything else I can help you with today?

India: Um, no.

Hands up if you think that worked. Good, you're all officially smarter than all the customer service people I have delt with this week. The second guy I talked to read my own manual to me, wasted 45 minutes, and at the end of the call, admitted that he had no idea what he was doing. He also had me install the wrong number when the phone asked me for a number, and I have no idea how to fix that.

Here's To You, Customer Service Reps, Making A Difference, One Call At A Time.

It's been a long while since Slate has produced something that I enjoyed reading, but an article on Feminists Paranoid About Being Fat is definitely interesting. As I learned from the oh so academically challenging Nutrition class I took last year, I am a fatist (though not as bad as some people). However, I'm also a chick and a feminist, and I totally understand the clashes between trying to look good and trying to not care. Slate says:

Women here may pant, "I'm doing it for myself" while strapped to their treadmills, but the fact is that the beauty culture is a heterosexual institution, and to the extent that women participate in its rituals, they, too, are propping up a heterosexual society and its norms. The problem for a feminist is that historically speaking such norms have worked out far less advantageously for women than for men.

I'm not sure I agree, as I watched three episodes of Queer Eye yesterday, not to believe a stereotype or anything. Plus, I'm reading more and more about guys with body and self image problems (homo and hetero), I really don't think it's a one way street. Women do not have this market cornered, though we've had more practice bitching about it longer. I think the real issue is that is used to be un-manly to care about how you looked, and we can thank femiminism for that reversal. See, when women weren't allowed to have opinions, then men didn't know that we had them. Now that we're allowed to talk about that nice set of shoulders over there, suddenly everyone's going to the gym. Body image problems for everyone!

Best quote from the article:

Fat connotes very different things in different cultures or in subcultures like fat activism, gay male chubby-chasers, and hip hop.

Oh, Sir Mixalot, what an impression you've made. I salute you.

As promised, I went back to SunTrust today to close my account. It worked. Holy crap. But as this is the Bank From Hell, I discovered a new problem.

This morning, I compared my records with the records of the bank, and they think I have less money than I think I have. My statements from September, October and November are somewhere in California, or in a box in the basement, so I asked for another copy for those three months. I didn't want to wait and bitch, as I don't want them to be using my money any longer. As an added bonus, I got to deal with the same Assistant Bank Manager that I delt with yesterday (who was wearing a different suit, but still had not bathed. He's ripe.) He printed me copies of August, October and November. Still, it was good enough to find out what I wanted to know, i.e. they've been charging me a maintenance fee for a while.

So now I get to call the 1-800 number. This should be really quite a lot of fun. We should start a pool - I think I'll have to demand a supervisor at least once, and someone will definitely hang up on me in the process of transfering me to someone else. I also predict that I will get transfered at least twice.

Oh, and as I was leaving the bank, ABM offered to open a Free Checking Account for me, with no fees and no minimum balance. You see, this is the GW region, and he knows what goes on here.

Sometimes, Joel needs to stop one-braining me. Only, apparently, he found the one intelligent person at SunTrust, leaving me with the idiots.

From the first day I had my SunTrust account, I hated that bank. The man I opened the account with told me that I could use it that day. I did, and I got charged for a bounced check both by the grocery store and the bank. Apparently, by "yes you can use it today," SunTrust actually meant "Only once your out-of-state check clears." There goes $56. Whatever. They've probably taken random amounts of money from my account previously when I was too busy to look at my statements too closely, i.e. finals.

Last month, I got charged a "maintenance fee" because I didn't have a minimum balance of $500. Who knew I needed $500? This is new. Knowing how SunTrust has inept people on the phones, I decided to take advantage of the fact that SunTrust has branches in walkable distances and go to a branch with my little pissed-off self to demand my $8 back. I arrived at ten minutes to three, which was fortunate, since SunTrust apparently opens at 9am and closes at 3pm. (I want to work in a bank. I promise to be inept enough.) SunTrust, Pledging To Find More Ways To Inconvenience You Everyday. I felt like I was in a bad SNL episode.

India: Yes, hi, I had a question about my account.

Assistant Bank Manager: Please sit down. What is your account number?

India, pulls last statement from folder: Here. I was charged an $8 maintenance fee last month, but I have a Student Account and there should be no minimum balance.

ABM, after clicking lots of buttons, shows me screen: Yes, here, it says that you have to have $500 in the account, or you get charged a fee.

India: But when did that change? I didn't receive a notice of a change in my account.

ABM: Did you open this account here?

India: No, I opened it in Nashville.

ABM: Oh, then I don't know. This is the Maryland, DC, Virginia area. The rules are different.

India: Isn't this SunTrust?

ABM: Yes, but you are in DC. This account is in Nashville. The rules are different.

India: So this isn't the same bank?

ABM: Yes, this is the same bank, but this is a different region. You're in the MARYLAND, DC, VIRGINIA area. This account was in NASHVILLE. In TENNESSEE. You have to call them.

India: Why are the rules different if this is the same bank?

ABM: No, no, you do not understand. This is the MID-ATLANTIC Region. You have to talk to the bank in NASHVILLE. This is DC.

India, frustrated: I looked on your website -

ABM: Yes, and there are different drop-down menus for different regions. They are different. You are in the MID-ATLANTIC region, which does not include Nashville. The rules are different. I don't know the rules in Nashville. If you had an account here, I could help you.

India: No, that's not my question. What -

ABM: You are in the MARYLAND, DC, VIRGINIA area. The rules are different.

India: So I can't complain to you about this account?

ABM: You can complain to me, but this is not our account. This is the DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA branch, and you opened your account in TENNESSEE.

India: So you can't close this account for me?

ABM: Yes, I can close the account (starts filling out paperwork, calls boss to see if he actually can close my account, clicks more buttons.)

India: And so I have to call Nashville to get my $8 back?

ABM, surprised: Oh, I can give you your $8 back, but then you can't close the account today. You want your $8 back?

India: Fine. I'll come back tomorrow.

ABM: So you want $8?

India, very frustrated: Yes.

ABM: If you want to open a new account, I can help you with that.

India: No thank you.

I would call Customer Service and bitch at them, but it would really be a waste of time. I got my $8, tomorrow I will close the account, and the peasants will rejoice.

I have quite a lot to do today, since yesterday was mostly spent discovering that while T-Mobile workers are a bunch of idiots, Cingular is insane. You see, I want to switch from T-Mobile t o Cingular, but I want to keep my number. (I have a 615 number left over from school). Apparently, for reasons I don't understand, T-Mobile can do this but Cingular cannot. However, I found this out only after walking 5 miles to three different Cingular stores in my area. (Uphill both ways, young grasshopper.) So, new plan: I still have the old number under the T-Mobile grace period for another week. I am going to get a Cingular phone today with a new 202 number, put the new number on all my job things, and say goodbye to Nashville area codes.

(P.S. I have also solved the obesity problem in America. Fat people - build public transportation, and then sell your cars. One car per two families is really all that is necessary. Take the Metro to your daily errands, or if it is less than the Metro goes, walk it. Then you can eat as much bread AND bacon as you like. You will lose weight, I promise. I call it the Car-Counting Diet. I will never get the support of the Auto-Workers Union.)

But can I go do this right now? No, because there's an old black man upstairs installing a dishwasher that actually cleans dishes (gasp!). This is really awesome, since I'm tired of washing them by hand, but I'd like to shower/leave the house, and I really don't feel comfortable doing that right now.

The housemate who turned the rent check in this month mentioned the dishwasher that shits on the plates, but she failed to tell them about the stove that sets itself on fire or the fridge that drips water all over the floor. One new appliance at a time, I suppose. And at least I won't have to wash the dishes by hand anymore. Yay!

I keep trying to read this article on TNR, but I can't even click on it because I start to giggle whenever I read something about Kim Jong Il. Yesterday, they had his picture accompinging the article, and I couldn't help but think how much he looks like his puppet.

Trey Parker, Matt Stone, I salute you. Fuck yeah.

I'm beginning to wonder if this is a trend for 2005. I have rung in the New Year by calling and harassing no fewer than three different companies, and I'm on my way out the door for some in person harassing. Tomorrow, there is even more harassing on the list.

Example 1: T-Mobile is being a bunch of losers (when I called to yell at them for lying to me about where my phone gets coverage - i.e. not in my house) they basically told me that something was wrong with my house. Helloooo Cingular. When I was hanging up after informing them of my impending switch, they told me my business was important to them and I was a valued customer.

Example 2: The stove upstairs in the Mansion keeps setting itself on fire. While I find this funny (fires run in my family, it's true, but this one is not my fault) it needs to be taken care of soon. The landlord's phone is always busy. Thus, I will have to go down there*.

Example 3: SunTrust decided to take $8 out of my account for no good reason. They're right down the street (and next to Cingular, where I will be going to switch cell providers) so I'm going to go bitch at someone down there.

Example 4: Citibank decided not to process my consolidation request, and as I'm now outside the grace period, I don't get the lowered rate thing. Boo. I talked to a very nice Minnesotian woman this morning, and she said she'd help me out, don'cha kno?

Example 5: We pay for internet. However, my internet will not let me access certain websites (Yahoo! MSN, Mapquest) websites because of some weird connection thing. I've tried sending someone an angry email, but in an inspiring show of irony, it didn't go through. So I don't know who to harass, but clearly, someone needs to be harassed. And the wireless doesn't work, which means that I have to be plugged in for bad internet. Boo.

And I'm not even counting the job people that I have to harass. On the up side, I'm getting really good at being just bitchy enough to get what I want. I used to not want to do that because I've been in service to the public, and I hated those bitchy people who wouldn't shut up. But it's a necessary skill, and practice makes perfect, I suppose. Off to the bank!




*Ass Comment For Those Who Understand - The boys in the Mansion have started keeping matches in the bathrooms. Oh dear.

Thus was 2004. I would like to dedicate 2005 to all the people that made 2004 so much fun.

Happy New Year's, my friends. And the peasants rejoiced.