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High Flying, Annoyed

By airplanes/airports, breaking news, drama, financial wisdom, hazards to my well-being, lists, mortgage No Comments

Today, my mortgage company practically forced me to call Quicken Loans to discuss refinance options. I figured just doing what they said might be less of a waste of time than listening to their awful hold music for one more second, so I called. A customer service rep answered the phone, took down some of my information, and then explained why all of the options LBPS told me to ask about wouldn’t work.

“I know,” I said. “But they made me call.”

I then proceeded to ask a series of questions beginning with phrases like, Correct me if I’m wrong but and And isn’t it also true that and But those programs won’t help me because, to which the customer service rep responded, “Whoa. You know more about mortgages than anyone that even works here.”

Well, duh. That’s why I keep having to call you loony tunes over and over in the first place.

Moving on.

My friend told me this afternoon that a notification light was flashing on her dash, suggesting that she had a light bulb out. I told her I’d look around the car when we left work tonight, and she said, “It’s okay. My husband already looked. There aren’t any lights out.”

And I said, “I’ll look anyway. I’m smarter than him.” I found the busted light after one tap on the brakes.

In the meantime, it’s become evident that in their ongoing quest to improve the security at major airports, the U.S. government has taken up practices like sexual assault, nude photography, pedophilia, and might I say mildly terrorizing the general public before allowing them to board a plane. Perhaps their reasoning is that if more people are unwilling to fly at all, terrorists will be less likely to target planes?

I understand where they’re coming from but, here’s the thing. Whereas, no one was making much of a scene about avoiding air travel after that moron boarded a plane with explosives in his underpants last year, now people don’t want to fly because they don’t want Joe Schmoe TSA employee touching their “junk” or comparing the outline of their practically naked image to the next passenger’s. Nice.

In all honesty, I’m trying to be satirical here, but don’t take any of this too seriously because I haven’t formulated my complete opinion on this topic yet. I’m not really sure how I’ll cope with these changes in airport security procedures, and I’m going to put off figuring it out for as long as possible. I’ll tell you why.

1. I don’t want to be standing in line at security behind the belligerent idiot who won’t cooperate. I consider myself a pretty well-traveled person. I fly more than the average American in any given year, but the next time I’m scheduled to travel is around Christmas…along with a whole bunch of people who never fly. I’m simply not interested in navigating my way through the battle of the aggressive security personnel versus the defensive passengers. Not this year, anyway.

2. I don’t want to become the belligerent idiot who won’t cooperate. This is highly unlikely, but always possible. I never thought I’d smack a Russian bouncer upside the head at Lunasea for forcefully grabbing (and bruising!) my arm, but that happened once, so I can’t make any promises.

3. I don’t know if you know this or not, but it’s a pretty well-known fact (to me and my mom, anyway) that I am destined to become disgustingly rich and famous, and I don’t want to become the future victim of blackmail when some psychotic, disgruntled TSA employee threatens to¬† leak my body scan image online. (Yeah, they say they’re deleting them, but I’ve seen my boyfriend recover deleted images off my camera, so I don’t buy it. Besides, are you trying to tell me that if there is another underwear bomber, they won’t go back and review his body scan image to see what they missed?) I’ll be much hotter then, and I won’t want people mocking the naked-ish image of me in 2010. It’s true.

4. (This is the main reason.) I don’t want to get arrested (which I probably will — for punching that pat-down person in the face — because I don’t even let my co-workers hug me, much less allow strangers to stick their fingers down the waistband of my pants).

I guess what it really comes down to is this — if I have to choose between posing for nude photographs or being molested at the airport this holiday season, then I guess I just choose to drive home to New Jersey for Christmas. Sorry, Continental. It’s Wawa that will be profiting off of me this year.

Finally, in other less pressing and far more entertaining news, a mysterious blob was discovered in Newport News.

P.S. When I do become disgustingly rich and famous, I’ll just buy my own plane, and then this won’t be an issue.

This crazy trip has got me feelin’: grounded
And I’m singin’ along to: Like A G6 – Far East Movement

Nerd Herd

By being a computer genius, drama, facebook, fashion statements, holiday fun, partying like a rock star 2 Comments


I totally meant to post some photos from Halloween, but I didn’t. I was too busy hosting a clothing swap party and working and getting ready for the 30 for 30, and I didn’t get around to fixing the red-eye in the photos in a timely manner. J and I went as members of the Nerd Herd. From Chuck. You know…that show about the spies on NBC?

Oh, right. No one watches Chuck, which is why it will probably be canceled and also why no one knew what our costumes were.

Some of my friends used to refer to J and I as the Geek Squad, so at least we could say we were in the Nerd Herd, which is kind of like the Geek Squad, but fake. Either way, I thought they were cool costumes…and inexpensive.




In other news, my mom told me a very disturbing story this afternoon, which really made me want to un-friend my brother’s ex-girlfriend from a long time ago on Facebook. Maybe I should have listened to him when he suggested that I un-friend her in the first place, but I thought he was being spiteful, and I used to enjoy reading her witty status updates. But, apparently, months ago, when they broke up she cut up his childhood teddy bear, Harry, with a pair of scissors. That’s not only psycho, but really mean and completely stupid. You don’t mess with Harry.

My usual stance on un-friending people is this: I don’t really care enough to un-friend you. But, who knows? Maybe this will launch me on an uncontrollable un-friending spree! Although, I doubt it. I’ll probably just wait for her to read this and un-friend me.

All this talk of un-friending makes me want to see the Facebook movie again, but I won’t because it’s more expensive to hit the movies on the weekends. Maybe Tuesday.

Anyway, you should know that I get highly attached to inanimate objects (such as stuffed animals, articles of clothing and CDs), so purposely trying to destroy something of sentimental value that is older than you are makes me think you should grow up and stop being an awful person or else the Nerd Herd is going to come find your ass and take a pack of kitchen matches to all of your childhood Barbie dolls.

Just sayin’.

This crazy trip has got me feelin’: nerdy
And I’m singin’ along to: A Pirate Looks At Forty – Jimmy Buffett

If you want to date me, please skip to the last sentence.

By boys, drama, kurt vonnegut is my hero, not ruling at life, political views One Comment

I’m really pissed off right now. I usually write my best LJ entries when I’m pissed off. I tend to be extremely hilarious.

I’m mostly pissed off because of boys. I find boys to be ridiculous. Every time I let one be my friend, he ends up disappointing me. I know they don’t do it on purpose most of the time, but they always do it and it sucks.

I just try to have a good time, but it hardly ever works out. I met one boy last year who didn’t act so immature and we usually had a good time, but he has inexplicably cut me off and won’t return my calls. We were really good friends.

Some boys disappointed me last night, so I went to bed kind of early. I didn’t care that much. I was tired. I fell asleep reading a Kurt Vonnegut novel.

I had the weirdest dream. I told the dream to some people at lunch today and they seemed to think I should try to turn it into something that makes some sort of sense and post it in my LJ. I’ll try my best. I might be a little distracted. I’m at Mark’s and he just bought a karaoke machine, so… Right. Anyway.

My dream:

I was checking my bank account online and there was over $1000 dollars in there becase Mark Twain (yes, the author)…

Let me try again.

Mark Twain (yes, the author) has been distributing his sperm in pill form to females in order to father children all over the planet. Meanwhile, political activists against unwed parents having children have been trying to stop him.

I open the Bank of America webpage and see that there is over $1600 in my savings account (my house fund). My ex-boyfriend asks me why I have so much money and I explain that Mark Twain has offered me $1000 to take the sperm pill and have one of his children. My ex-boyfriend doesn’t think this is a good idea. He argues with me that I cannot have Mark Twain’s child. He even tries to convince me that the political activists against unwed parents might violently harm me if I were to become pregnant. I try to explain how practical it all seems because I can use the $1000 to put the down payment on a condo in Las Vegas. The condo costs around $100,000 and I read a magazine on an airplane that, “One percent will move you in!”

My ex-boyfriend begs me not to take the pill and even gets down on one knee and promises to buy me a house. I say no and storm out to a bar.

Once I get to the bar, I see my ex-boyfriend’s ex-best friend. He is wearing a navy blue shirt. I go up to him and tap him on the stomach. “Hey [ex-boyfriend’s ex-best friend], how’s the keg?” (We used to call his stomach “the keg” in college.)

“It’s doin’ fine,” he replies.

I look at him for a minute and say, “I really miss you.”

“I know what you mean,” he says.

He leads me out to a dance floor and we start swing dancing. Then we back away because a circle forms and a swing dancing competition begins. A bunch of girls wearing weird red 1920s flapper-looking skirts are doing strange moves all over the place.

My cell phone rings.

I woke up right at that point to find that I had a voice mail on my phone. My phone ringer was off, but apparently it really had just rung. I checked the voice mail and it was two people whose voices I didn’t recognize having a five-minute conversation. I didn’t know the number, either, but I was too tired to call it back.

Anyway, I went back to sleep.

I don’t really think you will find this amusing in any way, but I figured I’d try.

Mark just dedicated “Scotty Doesn’t Know” to Scotty.

By the way, I’m looking for a new boyfriend.

Oh, the drama.

By drama, lists, not ruling at life No Comments

You know you’re in over your head when…

1. Your friends keep telling you that your life would make a good movie/book/reality television show.
2. People in your office that hardly even know you tell you that your life would make a good movie/book/television show.
3. Your idea of a brilliant money-making scheme is baking Christmas cookies with your roommate.
4. You say, “Andrea, so much has happened…” to your friend on the phone when she calls – and you just talked to her three days ago.
5. You are trying to concentrate on the road and one of your passengers is yelling at you telling you to turn on roads that are 15 miles away in the opposite direction of your house, implying that you are stupid and don’t know anything and that you need a psychiatrist while your best friend screams from the back seat, “I would rather slit my throat than be in this car with you two right now!”

Good lord.

Any others? I saved numbers six through 10 just for you.