So, what kind of parent are you? No, I don't mean a good parent or a bad parent. That is easy to figure out. The freaks who put their kids on television shows on TLC or Discovery Health or something like that - bad parents. If your last name is Gosselin and you were on tv - bad parent. If your kid fell into the river of chocolate - bad parent. (Oh, come on, Willy Wonka, get it? The original not this Johnny Depp nonsense. Sheesh!) If your kid grows up to win the Nobel Prize - good parent. If your kid finds a cure for cancer - good parent. If you think teaching your baby to read with some piece of crap infomercial product - bad parent.
Sorry, that was kind of a long tangent. Really, I don't mean good parent or bad parent. I mean, what kind of parent are you? Apparently, this is important. To whom, I do not know. Well, it seems important to people who have word counts to meet. Yes, I mean you Mr. Newspaper reporter. Okay, so enough. What am I talking about? The Chico Press-Enterprise or whatever they call that ridiculous newspaper up in the town that used to be known for having America's #1 party school and the Sacramento Bee both apparently think its important to identify parents as either adoptive or biological.
No, wait. That is not true. They think its important to identify when people are adoptive parents. Repeatedly. As if it matters to someone. I don't recall much about writing a newspaper article, and I have never actually written a newspaper article, but I believe that they are supposed to include facts that are relevant. So, the name of the mass murderer is probably relevant. The location of a bank robbery is probably relevant. The fact that Senator Calderon failed to report donations from the insurance industry when he was the chairman of the insurance committee is definitely relevant.
The fact that Billy and Susie Homemaker adopted little Sally, who they are accused of beating, is irrelevant. Suddenly, it seems that how you ended up with a child is some indication of how you parent. There is a story in the Sacramento Bee which was apparently reprinted from the Chico Screw-Up Enterprise that starts as follows: "Police say that a 7 year old girl died Saturday after being beaten by her adoptive parents....."
Last time I checked, I didn't see a story that started: "Bristol Palin, biological daughter of Sarah Palin, had a child out of wedlock with some dweeb." (Seriously, if you remember the guy's name, you need help. Okay, I need help since its Levi Johnson.) Or how about: "Crazy Michael Savage, who can't complete a thought because of his experiment with herbs (hey, he claims to be a world famous herbal expert), the biological son of an immigrant, still has no clue about autism and families dealing with autistic children." Am I right? I mean, I didn't read last summer: "Michael Jackson, the biological child of a freakish, scary father, died after having 152 plastic surgeries, having his nose replaced with a clip and turning his skin from black in to bright white like the kid who's car had smashed so hard." (Google it if you don't get the lyrical reference. Yes, it is funny. Actually, go listen to the song. Heck, buy the CD from which the song comes from.)
Yet, somehow, when a child is adopted it is part of the story. Its like if something bad happens, the adoption must be important. The fact that Lee Harvey Oswald came out of his mother's birth canal is never reported. But the fact that these douches in Paradise adopted the child and then beat her seems to be important. Its not.
News flash: I have adopted several children. I also have a biological child. Now back to our rant.
I am not the adoptive parent of my children. Just like I am not the biological parent of my biological child. I am a parent. A father. A dad. Daddy. I may have adopted my children, but I am not an adoptive parent. It is offensive. Why not describe me as the white parent? How about the bald parent? How about if I start describing biological parents like this: Ron and Martha are the people who came out of the birth canal of Sara and James. Or maybe I can do it this way: Ron and Martha came out the woo-hoo of Sara after James had been in there.
Maybe we can go farther. Children who are born after in vitro can be those test tube babies. Or maybe those petrie dish children. You could be William and Mary, the parents of petrie dish children. Or maybe we can get more graphic? Anyone want to bet whether I can get more graphic?
And while I am picking on the fine folks in Michael Phelps favorite California city, lets be clear this is not just for newspaper folks. It is also for anyone else. School districts? I am not an adoptive parent and even if my child is adopted, it doesn't matter when you don't provide services to my kid. Doctors? Sure, it is relevant for medical history, but after that it doesn't matter.
Want to bet? Just go ask the piece of poo attorney who made the mistake of making a comment about me while my son, who happens to be adopted, was in the hospital. Hell hath no fury like a pissed off white guy who has the mouth of a sailor and the venom of me. Of course, he followed this up by also commenting about the time when my wife had a baby. That would be my biological child. Again, hell hath no fury like a pissed off white guy who has the mouth of a sailor and the venom of me. Notice its the same? That is kind of the point.
My kids are my kids. My family is my family. I don't care if they are adopted, by birth, from a test tube, fell off the moon, dropped out of a spaceship or were found in a barn. They are my kids and how we became a family is irrelevant, you insensitive, uninformed, Neanderthal. Go get a freaking clue about life and than talk to me about families and how they are formed. Until then, take your piece of crap, poorly written, uninformative article and shove it where the sun don't shine, which by the way, could be the place your next child comes out of!
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
My name is, My name is.........
Greek Rectum. That is so not nice of me. Okay, the guys name is not Greek Rectum. But, it might as well be. Dude should be a rectal douche. Why?
So, I am working away today. And I get this call. The guy is an attorney. He practices in bankruptcy law. He would also owe a client of mine some money. Not a ton of money, but some money. She asked for a refund. They said no. I asked for a refund for her. They said no. So, it gets escalated. Remember, I sue people - and I like it.
So, he starts by explaining he wants to resolve this. Apparently his partner Flamboyant Little Thing (just trust me, the name is funny if you think about the opposite of the Big Johnson t-shirts that were popular in the early 90s) was complaining about having to spend time on this. And this partner thinks he has better things to do. At that point, the conversation went downhill. A few of the lowlights:
1. Greek says to me "Hey, bro." Um, hey? Hay is for horses. Now I know his receptionist has a John Elway like mouth, but really, is that my fault? (Okay, go Google John Elway and look at his smile. Seriously, he could play football, but he smiles like Secretariat.) And bro? Suffice it to say, I have exchanged unpleasantries with this guy before. And he calls me bro. I said, and I am not making this part up "I am not your bro, your pal, your friend or your buddy. Don't call me any of those names. I don't even like you." Look, if you have been to my house, we hang out, and I know something about you other than the fact that you are a Rectum Douche, then you can call my bro, brother, pal, buddy, ole friend, or any other similar name. If I think big, fat, hairy white a** when I hear your name, you should probably stick with calling me by my first name or Mr. X.
2. He then says to me "You are looking for coals. I am looking for diamonds on the beach." Okay, I don't know what this means. Seriously. I have no freaking clue. Diamonds on the beach? I dont know much, but I know diamonds come from underground. I have yet to find a diamond on the beach. I mean, maybe he broke out one of those $750 metal detectors and he found one when he was like 16, pasty white with his gut hanging over his Speedo and he thought he was cool, but I have never found a diamond on the beach. I am pretty sure deBeers does not get their diamonds from the beach either.
As for me, coals? I think I like coal. Its hard so you can pick it up and hurl it at people, hitting them in their twerpy little heads and making it go "thud." Of course, in some people's case, it would make the sound of a rock hitting a hollow piece of wood. I'm not saying some people who are heinys have nothing in their heads, but..........
Of course, coal + pressure = diamond. Okay, a lot of pressure. Over a long period of time. But, it still makes a diamond. So I think dude just said that I can take a decent case and turn it into a diamond. I think so. Or maybe he meant that he and his partner turn coal into diamonds in their tuchus'. I mean, these two guys are so uptight that their voices crack during their radio ads. The only thing worse would be if they threw in a one eyed attorney who can't spell and forgot to take a shower.
Seriously, I think he meant he is looking for high dollar cases. But that leads me to #3.
3. He says "I have over 2,000 active clients." He has 4 attorneys. Do the math. 500 cases per attorney, for those of you who are reading this after 10pm and don't want to do the math. There are two types of law firms: volume and quality. And the two shall never meet. Either you try to make your money on volume or you try to make a living by handling a lower number of quality cases. A quality case could be a diamond. It could be. I have never heard anyone ever refer to it as such, but I guess you could. Anyway, 500 cases per attorney means you are doing a volume practice. And when you charge a client, on average, $2,000, you are making a lot of money. Of course, you have overhead, but the gross income number looks impressive.
But, really, if an attorney have 500 active clients, how much time and attention can any one client get? Lets see, in an 8 hour day, that is 480 minutes of work. That is less than one minute per client per day. That is less than 5 minutes per client per week. That is less than 20 minutes per client per month.
Now, I am not a client of a law firm, but I am pretty sure if I dropped $2,000 on an attorney and the attorney spent an hour on my case in 3 months, I would be one ticked off white dude. In a year, the attorney would spend 4 hours. That is $500 per hour. For some guy who hasn't spent more than 4 hours on my case all year. That doesn't sound like a diamond. Well, maybe diamonique. Maybe some cheap, made in a factory reject diamond. That would about fit in with this guy. I think I saw his Hyundai Diamante next to his Vasio watch next to his Looney and Dourke wallet. Yes, this dude carries a murse.
So, there you go. I was called bro, told he was looking for diamonds on the beach and has some ridiculous number of clients. He was surprised that I wasn't so keen on talking to him. Yeah, funny how I don't like people so much who start in with attacks on me and my client. I would attack his client, but I don't think they would get it. You know, those two syllable words are too much for these folks. These people couldn't even count to 16 to figure out when to file a motion. But go on, attack me. In the meantime, I am going to at least have some blog fodder from Rectum, Little Thing and Dweebs.
So, I am working away today. And I get this call. The guy is an attorney. He practices in bankruptcy law. He would also owe a client of mine some money. Not a ton of money, but some money. She asked for a refund. They said no. I asked for a refund for her. They said no. So, it gets escalated. Remember, I sue people - and I like it.
So, he starts by explaining he wants to resolve this. Apparently his partner Flamboyant Little Thing (just trust me, the name is funny if you think about the opposite of the Big Johnson t-shirts that were popular in the early 90s) was complaining about having to spend time on this. And this partner thinks he has better things to do. At that point, the conversation went downhill. A few of the lowlights:
1. Greek says to me "Hey, bro." Um, hey? Hay is for horses. Now I know his receptionist has a John Elway like mouth, but really, is that my fault? (Okay, go Google John Elway and look at his smile. Seriously, he could play football, but he smiles like Secretariat.) And bro? Suffice it to say, I have exchanged unpleasantries with this guy before. And he calls me bro. I said, and I am not making this part up "I am not your bro, your pal, your friend or your buddy. Don't call me any of those names. I don't even like you." Look, if you have been to my house, we hang out, and I know something about you other than the fact that you are a Rectum Douche, then you can call my bro, brother, pal, buddy, ole friend, or any other similar name. If I think big, fat, hairy white a** when I hear your name, you should probably stick with calling me by my first name or Mr. X.
2. He then says to me "You are looking for coals. I am looking for diamonds on the beach." Okay, I don't know what this means. Seriously. I have no freaking clue. Diamonds on the beach? I dont know much, but I know diamonds come from underground. I have yet to find a diamond on the beach. I mean, maybe he broke out one of those $750 metal detectors and he found one when he was like 16, pasty white with his gut hanging over his Speedo and he thought he was cool, but I have never found a diamond on the beach. I am pretty sure deBeers does not get their diamonds from the beach either.
As for me, coals? I think I like coal. Its hard so you can pick it up and hurl it at people, hitting them in their twerpy little heads and making it go "thud." Of course, in some people's case, it would make the sound of a rock hitting a hollow piece of wood. I'm not saying some people who are heinys have nothing in their heads, but..........
Of course, coal + pressure = diamond. Okay, a lot of pressure. Over a long period of time. But, it still makes a diamond. So I think dude just said that I can take a decent case and turn it into a diamond. I think so. Or maybe he meant that he and his partner turn coal into diamonds in their tuchus'. I mean, these two guys are so uptight that their voices crack during their radio ads. The only thing worse would be if they threw in a one eyed attorney who can't spell and forgot to take a shower.
Seriously, I think he meant he is looking for high dollar cases. But that leads me to #3.
3. He says "I have over 2,000 active clients." He has 4 attorneys. Do the math. 500 cases per attorney, for those of you who are reading this after 10pm and don't want to do the math. There are two types of law firms: volume and quality. And the two shall never meet. Either you try to make your money on volume or you try to make a living by handling a lower number of quality cases. A quality case could be a diamond. It could be. I have never heard anyone ever refer to it as such, but I guess you could. Anyway, 500 cases per attorney means you are doing a volume practice. And when you charge a client, on average, $2,000, you are making a lot of money. Of course, you have overhead, but the gross income number looks impressive.
But, really, if an attorney have 500 active clients, how much time and attention can any one client get? Lets see, in an 8 hour day, that is 480 minutes of work. That is less than one minute per client per day. That is less than 5 minutes per client per week. That is less than 20 minutes per client per month.
Now, I am not a client of a law firm, but I am pretty sure if I dropped $2,000 on an attorney and the attorney spent an hour on my case in 3 months, I would be one ticked off white dude. In a year, the attorney would spend 4 hours. That is $500 per hour. For some guy who hasn't spent more than 4 hours on my case all year. That doesn't sound like a diamond. Well, maybe diamonique. Maybe some cheap, made in a factory reject diamond. That would about fit in with this guy. I think I saw his Hyundai Diamante next to his Vasio watch next to his Looney and Dourke wallet. Yes, this dude carries a murse.
So, there you go. I was called bro, told he was looking for diamonds on the beach and has some ridiculous number of clients. He was surprised that I wasn't so keen on talking to him. Yeah, funny how I don't like people so much who start in with attacks on me and my client. I would attack his client, but I don't think they would get it. You know, those two syllable words are too much for these folks. These people couldn't even count to 16 to figure out when to file a motion. But go on, attack me. In the meantime, I am going to at least have some blog fodder from Rectum, Little Thing and Dweebs.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Are you a bad client?
Okay, maybe this should be a regular series. You know, I can be one of those attorneys who blogs, or makes up blogs, and then tries to turn it into a book deal or a job or something inane like that. Or, I could just keep my day job and do this for fun. Oh, and not make crap up. Yeah, I think I like that better. But, this could still be a regular series. Maybe "Thinks that make you go hmmmm....." No wait, that was taken in the 90s as a song title by C&C Music Factory. Wait, I think these folks were so cool that it wasn't C&C it was C+C. You know, the plus instead of the ampersand. Okay, how many of you knew that this "&" was called an ampersand? And how many of you could spell it? LIARS!
How about if I call it "You might be a bad client if........" You know, like you might be a redneck if....... Of course, I can combine the two. You might be a bad client is you are a redneck. Just take out the might. That is a guarantee!
Anyway, here are a few signs you are a bad client:
1. You call 20+ times in two hours. (Notice the use of + like C+C so I could think I am cool.) Yes, today, a Saturday, I had a client call 22 times in 2 hours. That works out to more than once every 6 minutes. It is like a call every 5 1/2 minutes. That is absurd. First, who the heck has that much free time that he/she can dial the phone every 5 1/2 minutes? Second, who doesn't get the point? If I am not in the first 5 times you call, do you think I am suddenly going to be in the for the next 17 times? Sure, I could pick up the phone one of those random times, but odds are against it. And leaving me a message every time that I need to call you does not mean I am going to call you. I may call you on a Saturday. Chances are about 50-50. But once in a while I like to hang with Mr. Cooper. No wait, that is a tv show from the 80s with Marc Curry. Dude was not that funny. Once in a while I like to hang with my family and that means no calls or maybe one call. I made my one call today. No more calls for me!
2. You call and then put me on hold! Look, if you want to talk to me, great. I don't mind talking. I am more than happy to answer your questions. I will even give you a consultation. Its one reason I have blogs. I don't mind giving people information. But, if you think that calling me and then when I answer saying "Can you hold on?" is a good idea, think again. It means to me that you think your time is more important than mine. Sure, there are emergencies that come up, but that shouldn't be the first time we talk. And if you do it to me on the initial consultation or more than once, it means you really think your time is more important than my time. That makes you a bad client. I will respect your time, but please respect mine. I have another client or two who probably wants to talk to me.
3. You drop profanity on me. If you want to use profanity regularly, be my guest. Call your friends and have conversations that go "Hey you mother-bleeper, how the bleep are you bleeping doing? Did you hear what that bleephead Billy did? That dude is one bleeped up bleeper." Do it all freaking day if you want. Just don't call me and start with profanity. Do I use it? Sure. Some punk wants to call me and be an idiot, I will get off the phone and call someone or tell someone that the guy is a BLEEP! But, I don't use it on the phone unless some POC debt collector drops it on me. You know, like the guy who said he wished I was dead. Then it is fair game. But if you are a client, you are not going to impress me by dropping profanity in the conversation. In fact, it is going to make me question whether your going to be able to stay professional during a trial or a hearing or some other proceeding.
I am sure there are more ways that you can be a bad client. As they come up, I am sure I am going to blog about them. And I am sure some of the attorneys who read this will add to it. But please folks, just following these three simple rules will make sure you are not a bad client - or at least be a start. Oh, one more: don't sing Pit Bull to me. Ever. Automatic firing!
How about if I call it "You might be a bad client if........" You know, like you might be a redneck if....... Of course, I can combine the two. You might be a bad client is you are a redneck. Just take out the might. That is a guarantee!
Anyway, here are a few signs you are a bad client:
1. You call 20+ times in two hours. (Notice the use of + like C+C so I could think I am cool.) Yes, today, a Saturday, I had a client call 22 times in 2 hours. That works out to more than once every 6 minutes. It is like a call every 5 1/2 minutes. That is absurd. First, who the heck has that much free time that he/she can dial the phone every 5 1/2 minutes? Second, who doesn't get the point? If I am not in the first 5 times you call, do you think I am suddenly going to be in the for the next 17 times? Sure, I could pick up the phone one of those random times, but odds are against it. And leaving me a message every time that I need to call you does not mean I am going to call you. I may call you on a Saturday. Chances are about 50-50. But once in a while I like to hang with Mr. Cooper. No wait, that is a tv show from the 80s with Marc Curry. Dude was not that funny. Once in a while I like to hang with my family and that means no calls or maybe one call. I made my one call today. No more calls for me!
2. You call and then put me on hold! Look, if you want to talk to me, great. I don't mind talking. I am more than happy to answer your questions. I will even give you a consultation. Its one reason I have blogs. I don't mind giving people information. But, if you think that calling me and then when I answer saying "Can you hold on?" is a good idea, think again. It means to me that you think your time is more important than mine. Sure, there are emergencies that come up, but that shouldn't be the first time we talk. And if you do it to me on the initial consultation or more than once, it means you really think your time is more important than my time. That makes you a bad client. I will respect your time, but please respect mine. I have another client or two who probably wants to talk to me.
3. You drop profanity on me. If you want to use profanity regularly, be my guest. Call your friends and have conversations that go "Hey you mother-bleeper, how the bleep are you bleeping doing? Did you hear what that bleephead Billy did? That dude is one bleeped up bleeper." Do it all freaking day if you want. Just don't call me and start with profanity. Do I use it? Sure. Some punk wants to call me and be an idiot, I will get off the phone and call someone or tell someone that the guy is a BLEEP! But, I don't use it on the phone unless some POC debt collector drops it on me. You know, like the guy who said he wished I was dead. Then it is fair game. But if you are a client, you are not going to impress me by dropping profanity in the conversation. In fact, it is going to make me question whether your going to be able to stay professional during a trial or a hearing or some other proceeding.
I am sure there are more ways that you can be a bad client. As they come up, I am sure I am going to blog about them. And I am sure some of the attorneys who read this will add to it. But please folks, just following these three simple rules will make sure you are not a bad client - or at least be a start. Oh, one more: don't sing Pit Bull to me. Ever. Automatic firing!
Sunday, January 3, 2010
TLC has a little person fetish
I cannot explain it. I don't know that anyone can explain it. What is up with TLC? These folks, or at least the dude in charge of programming, has a fetish with little people, er, dwarfs, er midgets, er really short folks? What exactly do we call them now? Have you watched this channel lately? I would really like to know who is in charge of programming over there. Is anyone?
First, they have Little People, Big World. This is about a family where mom and dad are, not surprisingly, little folks. Apparently, they think it is a big world. I kind of thought it was a little world. I actually thought the world was getting smaller. I guess if you are under 4'6, the world is getting bigger. Are these folks not familiar with the internet? Did they miss Al Gore's invention?
Then, there is Little Couple. Now, one might think that these are the same people. After all, if mom and dad are married and little, they are a little couple. But no, TLC has apparently found a new little couple. Yes, apparently these folks are eager to be on television. I don't know why. Is it in a little person's genes? Its like on Chromosome 22 or something. That is where the height is determined and if the height is under 4'6, you also have a desire to be on TV more than Heidi and Spencer, who by the way needs to be taken out back and whooped. That dude is a train wreck. Sorry, back to the little folks. This woman is a doctor or something and her husband is a "businessman," whatever the heck that means. Does he own a business? Is he a business like LeBron James, LLC? I don't quite understand. What is the deal with him.
Anyway, they then have Dwarf Adoption. Um, hello? Dwarf? Really? Someone is going to name a show Dwarf Adoption? What's next? Dwarf bowling? Dwarf wrestling? I think both of those were outlawed when we turned from the 80s to the 90s. Seriously, when is the last time you saw midget wrestling on WWE or RAW or one of those shows? I remember seeing it in the 80s, but I don't think I have seen it advertised on USA anytime in the last 2 decades. But, apparently if these folks want to adopt, suddenly it is okay to call them dwarfs again. Just because I want to join the circus, does not mean it is okay to start a show called "Cracker Circus."
Seriously, who names these shows? Yes, I want to know. Who comes up with the name of these shows? And how much money do they make? What kind of college degree do you need? Do you even need a college degree or do they take people from Fake Online U in Barbados? I think I could come up with names like this.
Oh, and don't forget that TLC is also home to Toddlers and Tiaras. I recently saw a few minutes of a show where the little girl's name was Kragen. Clearly, that is the name of the store whose parking lot mom and dad were in when she was conceived. I was thinking that they probably meant Pep Boys, but they couldn't figure out who was Manny, Mo or Jack. They were going to go with NAPA as well, but the capital letters confused them.
I really think TLC changed its name from "The Learning Channel" to "Them Little Cuties" and decide that TLC sounded better than "Them Little Cuties." Really, who is programming that station? And did they pass an IQ test?
Just wondering..........
First, they have Little People, Big World. This is about a family where mom and dad are, not surprisingly, little folks. Apparently, they think it is a big world. I kind of thought it was a little world. I actually thought the world was getting smaller. I guess if you are under 4'6, the world is getting bigger. Are these folks not familiar with the internet? Did they miss Al Gore's invention?
Then, there is Little Couple. Now, one might think that these are the same people. After all, if mom and dad are married and little, they are a little couple. But no, TLC has apparently found a new little couple. Yes, apparently these folks are eager to be on television. I don't know why. Is it in a little person's genes? Its like on Chromosome 22 or something. That is where the height is determined and if the height is under 4'6, you also have a desire to be on TV more than Heidi and Spencer, who by the way needs to be taken out back and whooped. That dude is a train wreck. Sorry, back to the little folks. This woman is a doctor or something and her husband is a "businessman," whatever the heck that means. Does he own a business? Is he a business like LeBron James, LLC? I don't quite understand. What is the deal with him.
Anyway, they then have Dwarf Adoption. Um, hello? Dwarf? Really? Someone is going to name a show Dwarf Adoption? What's next? Dwarf bowling? Dwarf wrestling? I think both of those were outlawed when we turned from the 80s to the 90s. Seriously, when is the last time you saw midget wrestling on WWE or RAW or one of those shows? I remember seeing it in the 80s, but I don't think I have seen it advertised on USA anytime in the last 2 decades. But, apparently if these folks want to adopt, suddenly it is okay to call them dwarfs again. Just because I want to join the circus, does not mean it is okay to start a show called "Cracker Circus."
Seriously, who names these shows? Yes, I want to know. Who comes up with the name of these shows? And how much money do they make? What kind of college degree do you need? Do you even need a college degree or do they take people from Fake Online U in Barbados? I think I could come up with names like this.
Oh, and don't forget that TLC is also home to Toddlers and Tiaras. I recently saw a few minutes of a show where the little girl's name was Kragen. Clearly, that is the name of the store whose parking lot mom and dad were in when she was conceived. I was thinking that they probably meant Pep Boys, but they couldn't figure out who was Manny, Mo or Jack. They were going to go with NAPA as well, but the capital letters confused them.
I really think TLC changed its name from "The Learning Channel" to "Them Little Cuties" and decide that TLC sounded better than "Them Little Cuties." Really, who is programming that station? And did they pass an IQ test?
Just wondering..........
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Neighbors, Neighbors and Neighbors
No, this is not about Jim Nabors. Nor is it about my desire to put on a sweater and slippers and say "Won't you be my neighbor?" Nor is this going to be a dissertation about "Neighbor" by Ugly Kid Joe. (You can see the video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OtNW88sgO04) Rather, this is my joyous time with my neighbors. A few neighborly thoughts.
1. Don't use my garbage can. My neighborhood has some dumb rules about garbage cans. I think they cannot be put out before 6pm and they have to be back in within 36 minutes of the garbage man picking them up or 11:32am unless it is the 3rd Friday of the month and a new moon in which case they have to be in by 9:46am. Sometimes my garbage cans make it in by then. Most of the time - not going to happen. If the garbage man comes, and if I know he comes, I might get around to it by 8pm, when I get home from sparring. Maybe 8:30pm.
Now, look, I know it should be empty because the garbage man came. He dumped it. His little arm thing lifted it up and turned it upside down so that all of the contents were bend over and the contents of your stomach come out into the toilet. After this event, this very important event in life, the inside is empty. The garbage can should have nothing in it. So, how come I come home and I have stuff in my garbage can?
I don't know which of my neighbors feels like my garbage can is theirs, but it is not theirs. Its mine. I claim it. I own it. I pay some ridiculous amount of money every month for the right to fill it up. Stop using it. It is not yours! Stop using it. Give me back my garbage can. I want to use it - all of it. I want to fill up my garbage can! STOP!
2. I live in a development where we have big garages. I have a three car. Some homes have a 4 car garage. 4 car garage? Really? Who owns 4 cars? Jay Leno? Tiger Woods? You know, his Escalade, and his 9 girlfriends each have one. Plus the wife, who will probably get a new car every month for the rest of her life with the alimony he is going to be paying her. So, in addition to having 3 or 4 cars that they can park in their garage, they have a driveway. That is a minimum of 2 more cars, but up to 4 more cars, if they have a long driveway. So, figure these folks have enough space on their property to keep between 5 and 9 cars. That should be enough space for 99% of Americans, right? I mean, the British would be able to fit in 15 to 27 cars per house with this much space, but even old men who drive Cadillacs and pimps with their 1970 blue Lincoln Town Car, lowered, and covered in velour would be able to fit in 3 or 4 cars.
But, apparently, in my neighborhood, this is not enough room. Every day I find a car parked right in front of my house. Not like once a week. Or even every other day. Every freaking day someone parks in front of my house. Now, I get that I don't own that space, but could you please let my friend park there. That's right - I said friend. That is the one guy who would actually come to my house. He would like to park his car in front of my house so he doesn't have to walk 6 miles to get to my house because you have the entire street blocked by your POC cars. No, I won't link to Adam Sandler's Piece of S*** car song again - you can go look it up this time. But, dude driving the Miata that is two colors and has a hard top, you know who you are!
How about this? Lets park our cars in our garage. When the garage is full, put a car or two on the driveway. Then, when the driveway is full, put a car or two in front of your house. And seriously, if you have more cars than that on a daily basis, you need to move. I hear Far, Far Away is a nice place. You and Shrek can go live there.
3. Don't offer me pot. Ever. No pot. No marijuana. No hash. No Mary Jane. No budda. No gang. No chronic. No grass. No sticky icky. No hooba. No wacky tobacky. No fatty boombalaty. No reefer. No blunt. No dope. No 420.
Yes, one of my neighbors offered me pot. Not just any pot, but the "good stuff." Dude apparently was so happy that I found his brother's dog, who was in my garage, that he and his buddies offered me a doobie. They had the good stuff to offer me. He didn't know if I smoke it. Um, bra, as he would be called, I am over 22. I think most folks over 22 don't smoke the weed. Imagine me smoking dope. Come on, you know me. You know how I would be "So, um, Ms. Debt Collector witch, I don't think you could, um, what was I saying.....you were um........wait, what? Who are you?" Go read my Michael Phelps rant. You know that would so be me. And that would just be the contact high. Imagine if I actually smoked it. I would be eating cookies and drinking root beer until cows were flying - which I would probably see if I smoked a joint. Heck, I barely drink, and this guy wanted to offer me a smoke!
Pretty much, you never have to offer me some pot. I assure you, I won't smoke it, and I especially won't smoke it with my neighbors. Trust me on this, dude. You don't have to offer it to me. You can keep "the good stuff" all for yourself!
1. Don't use my garbage can. My neighborhood has some dumb rules about garbage cans. I think they cannot be put out before 6pm and they have to be back in within 36 minutes of the garbage man picking them up or 11:32am unless it is the 3rd Friday of the month and a new moon in which case they have to be in by 9:46am. Sometimes my garbage cans make it in by then. Most of the time - not going to happen. If the garbage man comes, and if I know he comes, I might get around to it by 8pm, when I get home from sparring. Maybe 8:30pm.
Now, look, I know it should be empty because the garbage man came. He dumped it. His little arm thing lifted it up and turned it upside down so that all of the contents were bend over and the contents of your stomach come out into the toilet. After this event, this very important event in life, the inside is empty. The garbage can should have nothing in it. So, how come I come home and I have stuff in my garbage can?
I don't know which of my neighbors feels like my garbage can is theirs, but it is not theirs. Its mine. I claim it. I own it. I pay some ridiculous amount of money every month for the right to fill it up. Stop using it. It is not yours! Stop using it. Give me back my garbage can. I want to use it - all of it. I want to fill up my garbage can! STOP!
2. I live in a development where we have big garages. I have a three car. Some homes have a 4 car garage. 4 car garage? Really? Who owns 4 cars? Jay Leno? Tiger Woods? You know, his Escalade, and his 9 girlfriends each have one. Plus the wife, who will probably get a new car every month for the rest of her life with the alimony he is going to be paying her. So, in addition to having 3 or 4 cars that they can park in their garage, they have a driveway. That is a minimum of 2 more cars, but up to 4 more cars, if they have a long driveway. So, figure these folks have enough space on their property to keep between 5 and 9 cars. That should be enough space for 99% of Americans, right? I mean, the British would be able to fit in 15 to 27 cars per house with this much space, but even old men who drive Cadillacs and pimps with their 1970 blue Lincoln Town Car, lowered, and covered in velour would be able to fit in 3 or 4 cars.
But, apparently, in my neighborhood, this is not enough room. Every day I find a car parked right in front of my house. Not like once a week. Or even every other day. Every freaking day someone parks in front of my house. Now, I get that I don't own that space, but could you please let my friend park there. That's right - I said friend. That is the one guy who would actually come to my house. He would like to park his car in front of my house so he doesn't have to walk 6 miles to get to my house because you have the entire street blocked by your POC cars. No, I won't link to Adam Sandler's Piece of S*** car song again - you can go look it up this time. But, dude driving the Miata that is two colors and has a hard top, you know who you are!
How about this? Lets park our cars in our garage. When the garage is full, put a car or two on the driveway. Then, when the driveway is full, put a car or two in front of your house. And seriously, if you have more cars than that on a daily basis, you need to move. I hear Far, Far Away is a nice place. You and Shrek can go live there.
3. Don't offer me pot. Ever. No pot. No marijuana. No hash. No Mary Jane. No budda. No gang. No chronic. No grass. No sticky icky. No hooba. No wacky tobacky. No fatty boombalaty. No reefer. No blunt. No dope. No 420.
Yes, one of my neighbors offered me pot. Not just any pot, but the "good stuff." Dude apparently was so happy that I found his brother's dog, who was in my garage, that he and his buddies offered me a doobie. They had the good stuff to offer me. He didn't know if I smoke it. Um, bra, as he would be called, I am over 22. I think most folks over 22 don't smoke the weed. Imagine me smoking dope. Come on, you know me. You know how I would be "So, um, Ms. Debt Collector witch, I don't think you could, um, what was I saying.....you were um........wait, what? Who are you?" Go read my Michael Phelps rant. You know that would so be me. And that would just be the contact high. Imagine if I actually smoked it. I would be eating cookies and drinking root beer until cows were flying - which I would probably see if I smoked a joint. Heck, I barely drink, and this guy wanted to offer me a smoke!
Pretty much, you never have to offer me some pot. I assure you, I won't smoke it, and I especially won't smoke it with my neighbors. Trust me on this, dude. You don't have to offer it to me. You can keep "the good stuff" all for yourself!
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
A guest post - Worst Company in America
A guest post from an anonymous source:
Comcast is the worst company in America. It’s not entirely their fault, of course. In most markets where they operate, they do so as a monopoly. If you want cable TV, you pay them. There is no alternative other than a satellite dish, and in my experience, wherever there is a monopoly there is corruption, incompetence, and arrogance.
Some people think that Comcast is only the second worst company in America. The Consumerist website, after a period of public voting, had Comcast in the finals for “Worst Company In America” for each of the past two years. In 2008, Comcast “lost” that title to Countrywide Home Loans, http://consumerist.com/5027169/worst-company-in-america-final-death-match-comcast-vs-countrywide-home-loans and this year finished again as runner-up to AIG.
You know things are tough when the only companies worse than you are a couple of the poster children for the recent economic meltdown.
On the website, you can find people suggesting that the runner-up trophy for worst company in America be permanently named “The Comcast Award.”
Naturally, I would not be writing about this if I were not a Comcast “customer.”
Here is my (most recent) tale of woe. I am a double Comcast prisoner. We have Comcast cable at the office, and I have it at home. We have it at the office because our Internet access is absolutely mission-critical to everything we do. We cannot afford to be down for even a few hours. Therefore, we pay each month for the local phone company’s high-speed DSL service and for the Comcast cable. In other words we pay double each month simply to insure that if one goes down, we can switch to the other, and hope that the odds are long that both could be down at the same time. So far, so good.
A salesman from Comcast comes to our office and says that because we have this business account, we can also have the Comcast business service (faster, better) at home, too, if we would like. We’ll pay more, of course, but it is available.
Since I have frequent problems with my home service (a Comcast trademark) I say yes to this proposition. A guy comes out to my house and installs the new service.
Beginning a couple of months later, I begin to get calls and letters from the Comcast billing department, threatening to cut off service if I don’t pay up. This I find mysterious since one of my staff pay all my bills, and I know they are paid on time.
There ensued hours of phone calls, the pain (and pain-in-the-ass) of which I cannot begin to describe to you, which lead eventually to the discovery of a “mistake” by Comcast. While they had installed the business service (fast) in my home, and had begun billing me for it, they had neglected to cancel the domestic service (slow) account, and thus had been double billing me for months. Straightening this out was a freaking nightmare. I only kept my sanity by delegating most of it to my employee Dave Meehan who has the patience of a saint.
Now comes the piece de resistance.
I am now getting threatening letters from a collection agency because, they say, I didn’t return to Comcast the router (for the old, slow service) that they took away when they upgraded me to the new service.
So, on top of being double-billed for months, I am now being dunned for a piece of equipment that a Comcast technician removed from my house.
Wonder if these idiots will now besmirch my personal, or business, credit rating?
Comcast is the worst company in America. It’s not entirely their fault, of course. In most markets where they operate, they do so as a monopoly. If you want cable TV, you pay them. There is no alternative other than a satellite dish, and in my experience, wherever there is a monopoly there is corruption, incompetence, and arrogance.
Some people think that Comcast is only the second worst company in America. The Consumerist website, after a period of public voting, had Comcast in the finals for “Worst Company In America” for each of the past two years. In 2008, Comcast “lost” that title to Countrywide Home Loans, http://consumerist.com/5027169/worst-company-in-america-final-death-match-comcast-vs-countrywide-home-loans and this year finished again as runner-up to AIG.
You know things are tough when the only companies worse than you are a couple of the poster children for the recent economic meltdown.
On the website, you can find people suggesting that the runner-up trophy for worst company in America be permanently named “The Comcast Award.”
Naturally, I would not be writing about this if I were not a Comcast “customer.”
Here is my (most recent) tale of woe. I am a double Comcast prisoner. We have Comcast cable at the office, and I have it at home. We have it at the office because our Internet access is absolutely mission-critical to everything we do. We cannot afford to be down for even a few hours. Therefore, we pay each month for the local phone company’s high-speed DSL service and for the Comcast cable. In other words we pay double each month simply to insure that if one goes down, we can switch to the other, and hope that the odds are long that both could be down at the same time. So far, so good.
A salesman from Comcast comes to our office and says that because we have this business account, we can also have the Comcast business service (faster, better) at home, too, if we would like. We’ll pay more, of course, but it is available.
Since I have frequent problems with my home service (a Comcast trademark) I say yes to this proposition. A guy comes out to my house and installs the new service.
Beginning a couple of months later, I begin to get calls and letters from the Comcast billing department, threatening to cut off service if I don’t pay up. This I find mysterious since one of my staff pay all my bills, and I know they are paid on time.
There ensued hours of phone calls, the pain (and pain-in-the-ass) of which I cannot begin to describe to you, which lead eventually to the discovery of a “mistake” by Comcast. While they had installed the business service (fast) in my home, and had begun billing me for it, they had neglected to cancel the domestic service (slow) account, and thus had been double billing me for months. Straightening this out was a freaking nightmare. I only kept my sanity by delegating most of it to my employee Dave Meehan who has the patience of a saint.
Now comes the piece de resistance.
I am now getting threatening letters from a collection agency because, they say, I didn’t return to Comcast the router (for the old, slow service) that they took away when they upgraded me to the new service.
So, on top of being double-billed for months, I am now being dunned for a piece of equipment that a Comcast technician removed from my house.
Wonder if these idiots will now besmirch my personal, or business, credit rating?
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Dumb people
So it has been a while since I have blogged. Say, the middle of October. As a friend of mine said, maybe having a baby mellowed me. Probably true. So I am going with a post tonight about a few people - or groups of people - who bug me. Annoy me. Make me want to pull out my hair - assuming I had some. And no, I am not bald. I am clean shaven. I choose to walk around with no hair. There is a difference! So without further ado, or further ramblings from me, my list of people who big, big time!
1. Smokers - okay, what the BLEEP? (This bleep is brought to you by the FCC. Those fine folks who tell us what is appropriate for television and radio. Of course, Family Guy did the best FCC spoof ever. You can watch it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2NDPT0Ph5rA ) Seriously, what is the deal with smokers. These folks smoke everywhere. When the baby was born, we were at the hospital. There you go. I bet you didn't know that. I should get some award for stating the obvious! Anyway, there were folks in their hospital gowns who were smoking outside of the hospital. Yes, you are at the hospital and sick, yet that is not motivation enough for you to stop smoking. I mean, how much of a degenerate do you have to be to smoke while you are admitted to the hospital? You rank right up there with crazy folks who post comments on people's Facebook pages and then go back and delete them. Yes, I am talking about you, you crazy lady. Michael Jackson is still dead and Chiller is still funny! Here is an idea: stop smoking. Use the patch, gum, hypnosis, or just plain cold turkey. But stop smoking. It is disgusting. Its more disgusting than the dude who called be after his glass eyeball fell out!
2. Christmas decorations - Hey, Target, Wal Mart, dude who lives near King Park: I have a memo for you: it is not even freaking Thanksgiving yet. Take down your decorations. What happened to one holiday at a time? No Target, I am not going to buy your overpriced Christmas clothes. Wal Mart, I am not going to buy your crappy Christmas decorations that cost you 25 cents to make and you are selling for $5. Put it away. Ask me about it after Thanksgiving. I want to celebrate one holiday at a time. So, the order in the fall is Halloween, Thanksgiving and then Christmas. It is not Christmas season from October 15 until December 25. Oh, and I didn't forget about you ABC Family. They have this ridiculous 25 days of Christmas. Its like an advent calendar full of movies. Fine. I can get it. Kind of. But, now they are doing the "Countdown to the 25 days of Christmas." It started on like November 5. It wasn't even Veterans Day yet. You have to countdown to a countdown to Christmas. Really? How about a countdown to a countdown to a countdown to you folks getting a brain? You do realize that not everyone celebrates the holiday, right? And some folks don't run out and buy presents for Christmas. Some people actually get that there is something to the time of year from the end of November (AFTER THANKSGIVING) to the end of the year. And it has nothing to do with your movies, some of which are old and some of which just plain suck. Hey, anything with Mario Lopez should be burned. Now. Please? Lets celebrate one holiday at a time. For now, I want to focus on my Thanksgiving turkey, stuffing and baking pies for the local fire department. And I will not watch ABC SUCKY, er, Family.
Oh, and dude who lives near King Park, take down your lights. Lights go up the day after Thanksgiving. They come down a week after the New Year. That is the rule. Live with it or your neighbors can pull down your lights. And never, ever let you put them up again.
3. Dude from India - So, I get this call today while I am working. Caller ID pulls up 64053. Um, at least in this country, we have seven digit phone numbers. So, this worries me. I know when the fine folks at the Federal Bureau of Investigation call me, and they do call me once in a while, it comes up with three numbers. But five numbers are weird. So, I answer the phone "This is Jonathan." You would think this would tell someone who I am. Apparently not. Dude explains he is from a mortgage lender. He wants to talk to me about a client, call her Stephanie. But, instead he calls her Steve. After I correct her name, he asks me for her social security number. Now, I don't know about the rest of the country, but I don't run around giving out a client's social security number. So, I ask dude where he is calling from. His answer, not surprisingly, Mumbai, India. So, I ask him to verify his identity. He won't. So I ask him why he thinks I should give out my client's social security number to some guy half way around the world. He keeps repeating his script "I need you to verify your identity by giving me her social security number." Dude, you called me. You dialed my number. I answered "This is Jonathan." Who do you think it is, Jack the Ripper? And you want me to give out information to some dude just because he called me and said he was from a bank? You are right, I trust banks. I trust them about as much as I trust insurance companies. No wait, I trust insurance companies more. I trust the California legislature more than I trust banks, and the legislature, well, at least Pedro Nava and Calderon, whatever the heck his first name is, oh wait, it is Ron, are in the back pockets of the banks. So ultimately he hung up on me. Go figure.
4. Fiances - no, not fiancees. The former are the men who are engaged. The latter are the women who are engaged. What is up with us guys? Some of us are just lame. Not me, of course. I am an angel, right? But I have watched an episode or two of "Say Yes to the Dress." It is a show on TLC that follows crazy women buying wedding dresses from some fancy shop in NYC. Got the premise? It is not earth shattering tv. Very simple. But then some of these women show up with the guy. What is up with that? The guy? He is not supposed to have ANY say in the wedding dress. Heck, he isn't even supposed to see her in the dress before the wedding. Never. Ever. You aren't cool or phresh (not fresh, mind you, but phresh so I can feel hip) or hip or happening or tight or anything else. You are a loser. A big fat loser. A big fat patethic useless loser. It is her dress. She picks it out. You have no say in it. Ever. Remember that. Now go watch 24 and Counting or however many kids the Duggars have now. You know, it would be easier to keep track if they went from A to Z with the names instead of starting them all with J. You do know that they now have to make up names since they have run out of real names that begin with the letter J.
So there you have it. 4 groups of people who annoy me. A lot. Too much! The world would be a better place if these folks who stop being dweebs and douches and start being real, the real world. No wait, that show was, and is, full of douches too. Sorry. f
1. Smokers - okay, what the BLEEP? (This bleep is brought to you by the FCC. Those fine folks who tell us what is appropriate for television and radio. Of course, Family Guy did the best FCC spoof ever. You can watch it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2NDPT0Ph5rA ) Seriously, what is the deal with smokers. These folks smoke everywhere. When the baby was born, we were at the hospital. There you go. I bet you didn't know that. I should get some award for stating the obvious! Anyway, there were folks in their hospital gowns who were smoking outside of the hospital. Yes, you are at the hospital and sick, yet that is not motivation enough for you to stop smoking. I mean, how much of a degenerate do you have to be to smoke while you are admitted to the hospital? You rank right up there with crazy folks who post comments on people's Facebook pages and then go back and delete them. Yes, I am talking about you, you crazy lady. Michael Jackson is still dead and Chiller is still funny! Here is an idea: stop smoking. Use the patch, gum, hypnosis, or just plain cold turkey. But stop smoking. It is disgusting. Its more disgusting than the dude who called be after his glass eyeball fell out!
2. Christmas decorations - Hey, Target, Wal Mart, dude who lives near King Park: I have a memo for you: it is not even freaking Thanksgiving yet. Take down your decorations. What happened to one holiday at a time? No Target, I am not going to buy your overpriced Christmas clothes. Wal Mart, I am not going to buy your crappy Christmas decorations that cost you 25 cents to make and you are selling for $5. Put it away. Ask me about it after Thanksgiving. I want to celebrate one holiday at a time. So, the order in the fall is Halloween, Thanksgiving and then Christmas. It is not Christmas season from October 15 until December 25. Oh, and I didn't forget about you ABC Family. They have this ridiculous 25 days of Christmas. Its like an advent calendar full of movies. Fine. I can get it. Kind of. But, now they are doing the "Countdown to the 25 days of Christmas." It started on like November 5. It wasn't even Veterans Day yet. You have to countdown to a countdown to Christmas. Really? How about a countdown to a countdown to a countdown to you folks getting a brain? You do realize that not everyone celebrates the holiday, right? And some folks don't run out and buy presents for Christmas. Some people actually get that there is something to the time of year from the end of November (AFTER THANKSGIVING) to the end of the year. And it has nothing to do with your movies, some of which are old and some of which just plain suck. Hey, anything with Mario Lopez should be burned. Now. Please? Lets celebrate one holiday at a time. For now, I want to focus on my Thanksgiving turkey, stuffing and baking pies for the local fire department. And I will not watch ABC SUCKY, er, Family.
Oh, and dude who lives near King Park, take down your lights. Lights go up the day after Thanksgiving. They come down a week after the New Year. That is the rule. Live with it or your neighbors can pull down your lights. And never, ever let you put them up again.
3. Dude from India - So, I get this call today while I am working. Caller ID pulls up 64053. Um, at least in this country, we have seven digit phone numbers. So, this worries me. I know when the fine folks at the Federal Bureau of Investigation call me, and they do call me once in a while, it comes up with three numbers. But five numbers are weird. So, I answer the phone "This is Jonathan." You would think this would tell someone who I am. Apparently not. Dude explains he is from a mortgage lender. He wants to talk to me about a client, call her Stephanie. But, instead he calls her Steve. After I correct her name, he asks me for her social security number. Now, I don't know about the rest of the country, but I don't run around giving out a client's social security number. So, I ask dude where he is calling from. His answer, not surprisingly, Mumbai, India. So, I ask him to verify his identity. He won't. So I ask him why he thinks I should give out my client's social security number to some guy half way around the world. He keeps repeating his script "I need you to verify your identity by giving me her social security number." Dude, you called me. You dialed my number. I answered "This is Jonathan." Who do you think it is, Jack the Ripper? And you want me to give out information to some dude just because he called me and said he was from a bank? You are right, I trust banks. I trust them about as much as I trust insurance companies. No wait, I trust insurance companies more. I trust the California legislature more than I trust banks, and the legislature, well, at least Pedro Nava and Calderon, whatever the heck his first name is, oh wait, it is Ron, are in the back pockets of the banks. So ultimately he hung up on me. Go figure.
4. Fiances - no, not fiancees. The former are the men who are engaged. The latter are the women who are engaged. What is up with us guys? Some of us are just lame. Not me, of course. I am an angel, right? But I have watched an episode or two of "Say Yes to the Dress." It is a show on TLC that follows crazy women buying wedding dresses from some fancy shop in NYC. Got the premise? It is not earth shattering tv. Very simple. But then some of these women show up with the guy. What is up with that? The guy? He is not supposed to have ANY say in the wedding dress. Heck, he isn't even supposed to see her in the dress before the wedding. Never. Ever. You aren't cool or phresh (not fresh, mind you, but phresh so I can feel hip) or hip or happening or tight or anything else. You are a loser. A big fat loser. A big fat patethic useless loser. It is her dress. She picks it out. You have no say in it. Ever. Remember that. Now go watch 24 and Counting or however many kids the Duggars have now. You know, it would be easier to keep track if they went from A to Z with the names instead of starting them all with J. You do know that they now have to make up names since they have run out of real names that begin with the letter J.
So there you have it. 4 groups of people who annoy me. A lot. Too much! The world would be a better place if these folks who stop being dweebs and douches and start being real, the real world. No wait, that show was, and is, full of douches too. Sorry. f
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