Let's Get Ready to Rumble

Eff you United Healthcare. You might remember me? I've done battle with you before. And won. Even though it took me two years, I walked away with a big check and you walked away with a chunk chewed out of your butt.

But for the past couple of years, I've let things slide. A "not covered" here or an "already submitted" claim there, but not this year. You are NOT getting by with that bureaucratic bullshit THIS year.

I keep immaculate records. I know the policy. I know what is covered. And I know what I've submitted, when I've submitted it, and if it should be paid.

And I've got nothing better to do this year than be a big pain in your ass.

A SemiAnnual Conundrum

As if time didn't move fast enough anyway, it's time once again to spring the clocks forward just so that we can then fall back an hour later in the year.

What I really don't understand, however, is why my $10 clock from Target automatically detects daylight savings time and sets itself and yet my very expensive, state of the art oven can't manage that simple task.

By the time I find all of the clocks that need to be set in the house and in the cars, it will be time to turn them back again.

Daylight Savings time...robbing us of one hour of sleep since 1918.

Jury Duty, Part Deux

Why is it that you get notified to serve for Jury Duty at the most inopportune time?

Remember when Vern got Jury Duty?

He had to report the week he was supposed to return to work after being on medical leave for three months. He was home all that time and could have gladly served and yet the minute that he notified his employer that he was released to return to work, he received a jury duty notice.

Now anyone who knows me at ALL, knows that there's almost nothing I enjoy more than the legal system. I worked in it for years and years. I've attended many trials, typed jury instructions on a portable typewriter while sitting on the floor in the hallway of a courthouse. Court TV is like crack to me and anything related to crime thrills me within an inch of my life.

I haven't gotten a jury duty notice since 1985, which coincidentally was scheduled for a week that I was supposed to be on vacation.

Imagine my shock when after almost 25 years, I get a jury duty notice. I'm scheduled to start the week before we leave for our 15 day cruise.

Any other time, I would be doing cartwheels of joy and planning what I'm going to wear. But really? A one week window before a non-refundable trip?

The jury is in - someone up there hates me.

Dear Monday

Dear Monday,

You sucked.

You promised me a trip to Michigan and then you snatched it away from me at the very last minute.

You sent your Monday gremlins to possess me and cause my head to spin like Linda Blair's in the Exorcist.

I'm leaving you for Tuesday.

Irony at its Finest

I'm sorry to make you endure one more post about the tragic situation that happened last night at Wal-Mart, but I'm not over it yet. It may take alcohol time therapy.

Irony has a way of sneaking up on you. In my case, it gave me a big old bitch slap.

What's so ironic you ask? My purchase at Wal-Mart on that fateful night that shall not be mentioned again was a People magazine. (Shush. It's my guilty pleasure.)

This advertisement was in that People magazine.




I SO need one of these t-shirts.

Reason 672 Not to Shop at Wal-Mart

It's bad for your self-esteem.

I went out for a fun dinner with a friend tonight. We had a nice meal at a little local bar we like and decided to do a little shopping afterwards. Why not. I was all dressed up - might as well go, right?

That's where my logic went south apparently. Might as well go . . . ANYWHERE BUT WAL-MART.

I'm thinking I don't look too shabby for a quick trip into town. After all, my hair was all shiny and swingy thanks to my new Chi flat iron. I was wearing some cute jeans, a boyfriend sweater, and my super cute Rocket Dog sneaks.

After a little shopping, we check out with our purchases, have some fun chatting with the cashier, and then get ready to walk out of the store. So far, so good. A trip to Wal-Mart on a Friday night and we are leaving unscathed.

Until I see her. At first, I thought she was just a nice mom who was trying to teach her little girl a few manners about being out in public. You see, the little girl was dancing and twirling and spinning around at the end of all the registers and mom was telling her to watch out and not to do that in the store. I'm sure you get the picture - you've seen it before.

And that's when IT happened.

She called me old.

That's right. She looked at my friend and I and then at her daughter and said "If you keep up like that, those old ladies are going to run you down."

Now for sure, I'm no spring chicken at 46. But I'm not exactly withered up and hunched over either. In fact, most people can hardly believe I have a grown up daughter. Okay, I admit, that "most people" includes ladies who are twice my age, people trying to sell me stuff, and waitresses hoping for a good tip. But still. . .

The bitch called me OLD.

Try to contain your laughter and at least offer a little sympathy. It's the compassionate thing to do for your elders.

It Has Been One of Those Days

What has happened to customer service? To doing your job well? To actually getting things right?

It seems as though I have a full time job sometimes keeping up with the mistakes or issues that companies and service providers make. It is nothing new, but days like today really make me tear my hair out.

Today I had to bring out my inner "Bitch on Wheels." I not afraid to trot her out every once in a while.


Incident #1
You know all that crap that comes in the same envelope as your bill? That stuff that you just pitch in the trash when you pull out the bill for payment? Read it. Study it. Especially if it is in your credit card bill.

While this one could potentially be filed under "Buyer Beware," it really is one of those tricky things that companies pull hoping that the consumer won't notice. Fortunately, I just happened to notice the small print on my credit card bill that said "see enclosed notification for changes to your terms." Sure enough, when I fished it out from the bottom of the trash, there it was - a notice that our interest rate was going to more than double unless we "opted out" of the interest rate change. If you don't opt out - in writing - in the next two weeks, you are screwed.

It seems that credit cards are passing on their financial woes of extending credit to people who can't pay it back along to the people who can pay it back. Sure enough, when I called to find out WTF was going on, they advised me that it was "nothing personal" or even related to our account, which by the way we appreciate you paying so timely every month, but we are increasing rates for some of our customers.

I can, of course, opt out of it, but the second I use the card for any reason, then the rate automatically hops up close to 20%. No thanks.

In my mind, the credit card company loses on this one because not only do they now have to lock in my rate at the current low interest rate until I pay it off, but I also will no longer ever use the card again for any new charges.

Screw you AAA.

Incident #2
Remember my pretty new range top? The one that cost us a small fortune? The one that we have only had for a few months? It quit working.

I can live with that. We have a warranty on it. Things happen.

However, what I cannot live with is the fact that I have been waiting for 5 weeks to get it repaired. Not only that, when I called to find out WTF was going on, (are you seeing a pattern here?) it appears that my original service call and all resulting return calls were lost in space. No record of them at all. I paid $3,000 for a range top that worked for 6 months and they cannot even keep track of my phone calls? Now we start all over. Someone is coming out tomorrow to look at it, but I know that it is going to take a few more weeks to order parts, so I am back to square one.

Incident #3
I am convinced this is a case of "wait and see if they notice." We have had Verizon service for several years. One of the reasons we have had it is because we get a significant discount through Vern's employer.

I was straightening some files today and realized that somewhere around May our discount stopped. When I called to find out WTF was going on, it turns out that even though we are still entitled to the discount and it appears on our account, they just stopped applying it to our bills. No reason. Just stopped. It took several minutes to convince them that today was not the day that they wanted to tangle with me and that it would just be in their best interest to straighten it out and also give me a credit for the 5 months that they haven't been giving us the discount (which amounts to over one full month's bill). In the end, I got the credit and they increased our discount.

Seriously, this is not the week to screw with me. Vern is hiding in the shop all week. The dogs are begging him to take them with him. I suggest that if you see my name on your caller ID that you do not answer. Sometimes, I'm even sick of my own bitching.

Now, on to the next victim.

If It Wasn't Monday

I would swear it was Friday. The 13th.

Let's chalk this one up to a very bad, horrible, no good day.

Lincoln, our black lab who is never sick, has a large lump under his neck that needed to be biopsied by the vet.

We had a bad storm and our internet was out for 12 hours.

My computer got a virus, couldn't be recovered, and I lost almost 3 years - yes I said YEARS - of work, photos, files, and documents. (So if you don't get a Christmas card this year, it's because I don't have your address.) Of course, "back up computer" was on my list of things to do. The list is somewhere on my desk.

Vern's doctor called and some of his test results came back abnormally so they are referring him to yet another specialist. I guess it's time for a new chapter in the Kidney Stone Drama series.

If you don't hear from us, it's because we are hiding under the covers. And not in a good way.

Edited to add: You want to know how crappy of a Monday it is? It was such a bad Monday, that it actually happened on Tuesday. Somehow, somewhere, I lost a day. That's okay. The universe can keep it because I'm sure it was shitty too.

You, My Friend, are on my List

They were doing so well. So very well.

Until someone decided they needed to be fertilized.

And in true Jesse fashion, if one fertilizer stick is good, four must be better.

Dude, you are in SO much trouble. I would avoid me if I were you.

Who Thought This Was a Good Idea?

After Vern's surgery, we had to get some prescriptions filled. Our local grocery store/drug store just built a fancy new store with a drive thru pharmacy.

We used it for the first time, and this is what we found.

Now really. Who thought this was a good idea? Most people who are using the drive thru at the pharmacy are either too sick to go into the store themselves or have someone in their family who is too sick to go into the store.

Is a phone handset that is used by every single person, sick or not, really the best idea for a drive thru pharmacy? I'm not even a germaphobe, and it made me queasy to touch it.

I can just hear the marketing pitch for this one.

"So, what's a way to not only retain our current customers, but also ensure that we get NEW customers. . . "

HEY - Someone Stole My Idea

No fair. Organize.com (http://www.organize.com/slipper-genie.html ) stole my idea.

I'm oddly intrigued and repulsed (because I know how dirty my floors can get) with these at the same time.



Oh well, I guess now I'll just have to work harder on my idea for Swiffer slippers for the dogs.

(Note to self - if you are ever a foot model, please make sure your pedicure is fresh.)

How Do I Hate Thee; Let Me Count the Ways

Since the very first day we moved into this house, we have found a 100 ways to curse the former owners, both under our breath and out loud. They left such a mess here that it has taken us literally four years to get through it. Every time we throw out something they left here or some mess that we have had to undo and deal with, we give them a little "f-you" as we put it in the trash.

We always knew that they fixed up this house just to sell it. And by "fixed up" I mean covered things up and got the hell out of here.

The latest find lies under the sparkly popcorn ceiling. I could have forgiven them their horrendously bad taste had the ceiling been done when the house was originally built or even into the 1970s. However, we determined pretty quickly as I scraped off mounds of wet "popcorn" (also known as Styrofoam balls) and found that it had most definitely been done only a few months before we purchased the house. Not only that, we also figured out the reason - to hide a bad patch job where they replaced part of the ceiling.

What we don't know is why that part of the ceiling was replaced. What we do know is that it was a very bad patch job and that they also didn't use any sort of primer or paint and applied the popcorn texture directly to the raw drywall.

It just made an already messy and labor intensive job that much harder and messier. And now we have to wonder if there is a deeper problem that we need to investigate before we go further into finishing this room.

Meanwhile, with Christmas fast approaching, I'm multi-tasking. Or at the very least, my sewing machine is helping me multi-task.

I'm working on a special project for my Scottish father. I should finish it tonight, so stay tuned for the final project.

Dear Former Owners of Our House

WE HATE YOU.

Sincerely,


The Unos


(details to follow soon)

Beans or Rice?

You'll have to pick one or the other because we got the price for our soapstone today and we sure as hell can't afford beans AND rice. Something's got to give and it's not going to be the soapstone, that much I'm sure of.

Other than that, I got nuthin'. I'm so darn borning today that I've driven myself over the edge. The most exciting part of my day was when I cleaned out the ashes from the fireplace and hauled them to the firepit outside. I looked like Cinderella when I was finished. And not the pretty version with the ballgown and the glass slipper.

(P.S. Just a tip - don't Google "Dirty Cinderella.")

Vern went back to work on Thursday after almost three weeks off. Fortunately, he was home during "The Great Well Disaster of 2007." Unfortunately, we have a half-finished deck and a temporary solution to our well. He's apparently just going to have to quit his job completely.

But then there would be no soapstone.

Just like the Good Old Days

I'm wondering how good the good old days were now that we are on day 4 of having no water. Boiling water for dishes, having no toilets, and using a wash basin to bathe isn't exactly all that good if you ask me.

I'm really gong to have to find something else to write about because my daughter threatened to stop talking to me until I do, but right now, it consumes me. You just don't realize how many times you just reach to turn the water on in a day.

Vern is beyond frustrated trying to fix it. We haven't been able to get anyone out here to look at the well.

Last I heard, we may try to put in a temporary sand point well (not sure of the terminology here) so that we can pump water from the creek so that we can at least shower and flush the toilets.

The Good News and the Bad News

The Bad News is that we still don't have water. And we still don't know the exact nature of the problem. While the lack of showers and the lack of bathroom facilities has been pretty much the problem I expected, the inability to do laundry or dishes is more of an issue than I expected. Because we were having water issues, I let the laundry go, thinking I could catch up after Jesse left and Vern went back to work. As a result, we may be making a trip to the laundromat.

Also, as much as I'm trying to use disposable plates, I still had two dishdrawers loaded with dishes ready to wash, and it's virtually impossible to cook without creating dishes. If we don't get water soon, I'm going to have to start boiling water and washing the dishes by hand with as little water as possible.

Unfortunately, Vern had to return to work tonight. On the positive side, however, he was able to take a couple more days of vacation and get someone to cover his other shifts for him, so he'll be home in the morning and have another week to work on this issue. God I hope it doesn't take that long.

The Jeep is also still not fixed since water seemed to be more urgent than secondary transportation.

The Good News is that I have a heck of a lot of Halloween candy left over.

Thank God because I feel a huge rush of PMS coming on.

Words you don't want to hear your husband say

"We are now officially out of water."

It just doesn't really give you a warm and fuzzy feeling. Warm, no. Fuzzy, possibly in a day or two.

Anyone who knows me well knows that I have to take a shower before I do anything in the morning. Even before I clean toilets. But I guess cleaning toilets isn't really going to be necessary since no water also means no toilets.

It just doesn't get better than this.

Sounds like a good idea to me

Want to hear about my fantastically crappy day? Too bad, you’re going to anyway.

First of all, we get up this morning with a bunch of calls to make, not the least of which is to someone to get out here and to fix our well (more on that particular gem later). No phone service. Instead, I’m routed to Verizon’s financial office where I’m informed I have a $200 past due balance. Odd, since just last week I received a bill that said I had a $150 credit. Even more odd because as I checked our bank account, regular payments have been made for the past, oh five years or so.

I’m connected with a man named Ken. Except that I later learn that Man named Ken is really a woman named Kenisha or something of the like. (Note to Ken/Kenisha - you have a masculine voice. Very masculine. I'd suggest at least giving your full name and not shortening it to "Ken") He/she kept insisting that there was a balance due for the past three months. He/she didn’t really care that I’ve only had the phones for one month and that it's virtually impossible to owe three months worth of charges on phones that you have only had for a month. He/she did not care that I’ve paid Verizon every single month for the past five years. He/she did not care that I held a credit statement in my hand. Instead Man/woman named Ken apparently did not like my tone the least little bit because he/she kept putting me on hold to “calm down,” which only served to make me madder.

Long story short, they are trying to find the money my bank has been sending them and they have apparently been misdirecting into another account. And I now have phone service.

But I still haven’t figured out if he/she is really a woman or a man.

Problem number two wouldn’t actually BE a problem if my husband was 6’5” tall. But he’s not. Not even close. Nor am I. However, the seat of his Jeep apparently prefers a tall driver because it moved itself back all the way and now won’t move forward. It is, of course, electronic, so there’s no fooling it. There’s also no driving it since neither of us can reach the pedals. So for now, we are driving MY Jeep, which I was informed was a crapmobile. But at least we can reach the pedals.

Oh, and finally the well. You didn’t think I’d forget the well did you? How could I when I took a dirt shower this morning. We’ve moved from water/air to air/dirt. It’s fan-frigging-tastic to wake up to that in the morning. Ironically, our neighbors just came over to borrow some water (ha – the joke was on them as I handed them our mud mix we now call water!) because their well and/or pump isn’t working. Sounds like a dry well situation to me. It also sounds like money wooshing out of our bank account.

The only thing that can make me feel better at this point is to spend money we don’t have. On something fun. So tomorrow, we order the cabinets. Screw Verizon, the car, and the well. I'm getting new kitchen cabinets and you can't take that away from me.

Brought to you by the letter F

I'll let you fill in the blanks with your own favorite word, but basically mine are all four lettered.

It appears that we need to have a new well drilled. Unless we can live on air alone.

Because air is basically what we are getting when we turn on the faucets or flush the toilet.

Fabulous. Which is not the first f-word that comes to mind.