A Banker’s Life: Crisis #2-Too Much Information

I had a dream - well, I should say nightmare - that I’d abandoned you all for a few days… no hellos, no comments, no posts…  it was so desolate that one could see tumbleweeds blowing across the computer monitor.  Suddenly, I awoke to find that my dream was in fact, a reality! 

I have no excuses in my back pocket as to why I’ve been absent this week.  Except for the fact that I’ve been writing like a slave and was asked by the Editor to fill in for someone who was gone last night and couldn’t do their full show recap… and also tonight (on top of the live feeds I already have to recap).  Therefore, in about 20 minutes I’ll be watching the Finale of Celebrity Circus (to which my response was “what the H is that?”) and then writing a blog about it… since today is the first time I’ve even heard of the show.  We’ll see how that goes.

As time is of the effervescent essence, I will leave you with a short conversation I had today with a very elderly lady.  elderly, mind you.

lady: “hi.  I had you cancel my debit card a couple days ago.  Can you turn it back on?”

me: “no, once it’s cancelled, it’s cancelled.  Sorry.”

lady: “oh, really?  thats too bad, cus I found it.”

me: “oh, yea.  that is too bad.”

lady: “well i feel so silly.  you’ll never believe what happened.  i just can’t believe it.”

me: “oh.”

 

lady: “you know how when you’re at the bar you put your credit card in your boob?  well, when i got my receipt, i wrapped it around my card and put it in there.  i never saw it since.  but then the other day, the guy came out to change my LifeLine box [for really old people, in case they die or fall and break a hip] and he found it lying behind my dresser!  now isn’t that somethin?”

me:  [lifeline?  you have a Lifeline box and you were going to the bar and wrapping receipts around your boob?]  “huh. that is something.” 

Big Brother 10: Spoiler Alert

Not only have I been an avid Big Brother watcher and addict all these years. ..  but I am pleased to announce that I will be writing daily recaps of the 24/7 feeds and Showtime episodes  [so all the sneaky behind the scenes spoiler type stuff] for  Realitytvmag.com. If you don’t watch this show, you should.  If you do watch it, then good.  And either way, you need to come read about it. 

The “How Can I Avoid My Dentist for Life” Dilemma

Throughout the ages,  many philosophers have attempted to answer the question, “Why would I rather be tied up in a glass box and left for dead in the Sahari desert than go to the Dentist?”

For me, it started when I was six.  It’s bad enough that I inherited my mother’s unbelievably awful teeth, and I always had an average of three cavities EVERY visit and they could never get the novocaine right.  As horrible as that was, it is not what drove me to camp out by the mailbox so I could tear up the ”time for a checkup” postcards the minute they arrived and bury them in the garbage before my mom would notice. 

Flouride.  Do any of you recall having trays oozing with “grape” bubblegum” or “mint“ flavored flouride shoved into your mouth to protect your teeth from cavities?  Then once the trays were in place you had to sit there struggling not to gag as the slimey goo (which resembled windex more than it did any of the above mentioned flavors) started trailing down your throat,  all the while you’re gasping for air because that ridiculous vaccuum was sucking it from your airway.  I remember each visit (which ended up being once every two years, when the postcard sabotoge went according to plan) lying there, staring up at the ridiculous poster of toothbrushes hidden in the forest,  shuttering in fear, and wondering if maybe - just maybe - they would forget the flouride this time.  But they never did.  It’s as if they possessed some other -earthly -futuristic -robot memory. and i didn’t stand a chance.  Eventually, I started pleading with them.  “come ooooon, my teeth are going to have cavities no matter what, don’t you see?  Look at my mom.  That’s just my lot in life.  I’ve made my peace with it.  it’s time you got on board.”   But all my attempts proved futile.

Flossing.  I have done this section in red.  Red, for the color of the blood that my gums have shed at the hands of various hygenists throughout my childhood.   As i grew into my adult teeth, I was relieved to find that flouride would no longer be a part of my torture.  FREEDOM AT LAST!  That was until I discovered a whole new world of anguish. Flossing.  Throughout the duration of high school, every conversation with my hygenist would follow this format:

her: “hmm..  how often do you floss?”

me: “bout once every couple days.”  [lies. lies.  all lies. straight from the pit of hell!]

her: “you really need to do it at least once a day.  not flossing can lead to Gingevitis and gum disease.  do you know how to properly floss?”

[then she does the whole demonstration with the index finger blah blah]

me: “yea.  yea I know.  I just forget sometimes.”

her: “hmm.. I’m a little concerned.  do your gums normally bleed when you floss?”

me: “no, no actually they don’t.  only those times when I tug on them with the power of Hercules and probe them with sharp metal objects.”

Root Canals. Finally, when I was “of age” and “of my own insurance” I could choose my own dentist.  So i set out with my suitcase in hand and all the optimism in the world.  I didn’t stop searching until I found a guy who specialized in gentle, no drill dentistry.   plus, he was chinese.  I don’t know what it is about chinese people, but I automatically assume they are smart.  This guy won’t be shoving tubes down my throat and destroying my gums for no good reason, he’s above that.  He also informed me that ALL my fillings were leaking and  and that the reason I couldn’t chew on the left side of my mouth for the past two years was because my root was dead and I needed a root canal.  Smart dentist? maybe.  More costly than adopting my own chinese baby and putting him through dental school?  definately.

After shuffling around to the better half of all the dentists in the white pages, my dad recommended his childhood dentist,  Castrogiovanni.   On my first visit, I was pleased to discover that Mr. C’s hygenist was as gentle as a feather blowing in the summer breeze.  I smiled on the inside..  Could it be?  Then the dentist comes in and as he’s examining my mouth I realize he’s not wearing a mask, his face is really close to my mouth, and he is really old.   afterall, he was my dad’s dentist.  Thats ok, that means he has lots of experience.  Experience? maybe.  Halitosis? definately.

The search continues…

 

 

 

BREAKING NEWS: Prince Charming Leaves Suicide Note Under Tear Stained Pillow

[I figured I'd move this back to the top of the pile for awhile, as it seems to be increasingly popular with the ladies..]

 

WARNING:   I’m going to have to ask that no matter how innocent and beautifully honest this blog may be, that you don’t fondle, grope, caress, or touch it inappropriately in any way - even if it is the blog of your dreams

 

BREAKING NEWS:  Prince Charming was NOT spotted today [or ever for that matter]  galloping upon a snow white steed, harboring a large shield for warding off dragons or scary people with guns, while traveling  through the enchanted forest to rescue a long- haired, bottle -blond damsel with daddy issues.  Sources have revealed that the reason he was not spotted was because he actually does not exist!

 

[ Cinderella’s response to the shocking news: “You mean I’ve been sweeping up all this soot and ironing my evil stepsisters’ button down shirts and I don’t even get a prince at the end of the tunnel?  What kind of CRAP is that?! ” ]

LADIES, from what I can deduce, there are only two logical reasons why you are still searching for the imaginary Prince.

 

1. You’re a commitment-phobe, and use this as an excuse as to why you won’t settle down.

 

2. You’re not in touch with reality and/or you smoke a lot of crack.

 

 Lets just get something straight.  Prince Charming isn’t around.  He jumped the border and he’s headed for Atlantis.  To my knowledge he hasn’t even left a close relative or body double to be your shoulder to cry on.  He didn’t even leave his snow white stallion around the stables for you to pet.  His mother, the Queen of Nonexistent Men, found this note under his pillow:

 

 Dear Completely Delusional Yet Surprisingly Hopeful Women of the Land, 

 

“I feel like a classic fool.  [the imaginary Prince is British, of course]  I could no longer keep up this silly charade.  Blessed Respite! I am nothing but a fake.  I’m a big, fat (but very trim), dodgy  phony. I don’t have a steed, or a stallion, all I’ve got is an ‘88 Ford Fiesta.  I don’t ward off dragons, I run in the face of danger.  I run! I am nothing but a yellow- bellied coward, a coward I say!  My entire life is a farce, and I am the only one to blame.  Except for my mum who is partly to blame.”

 Cheers,   Prince C.

 

 

 

MORE BREAKING NEWS:  We are getting reports of a supposed uproar in Disney World.  Snow White has strapped a bomb to her up-do and is threatening to blow up her Happily Ever After Castle (which was to be her wedding gift from King Charming)  The Gingerbread man has plummeted head first off Humpty Dumpty’s wall, and Tinkerbell has joined forces with the fairy godmother coalition to spread raging pixie dust wildfires all across the land!

 

 

Shameless Celebrity Comebacks of 2008.

I’m now going to ask for your undivided attention.  not ask, command, with all the power of Dr. Phil’s mustache.  what I have to say could quite possibly change the course of your life OR history as we know it.  The words that are about to come out of my mouth are almost as delicious as the Wendy’s cheesy bacon potato i am currently enjoying, and you are not.  unless, are you?  I noticed it disappearing more rapidly than expected. 

So, i beg of you to please turn down whatever grossly pathetic show i can only imagine that you are watching, stop thinking about how you can quit your day job and somehow support yourself entirely off of blogging,  push off your TaeBo tape for one more day because at this point it’s a lost cause, and FOCUS on me!  Geez.  the way you’re acting, you’d think we’ve been married for 85 years.

Madonna. 

i thought you retired?  what’s with the spread eagle?  and the street walker thigh highs? and the gaping mouth?  are you panting because you just had a hot flash?  its ok. afterall, you are 50.  and “hard candy?”  seriously? 

 

      

  

       The Spice Girls.                       No, i don’t “wanna be your lover.”   not in the 90’s, not now, not ever. 

 

The Osmonds.  Help!  It’s been decades since anyone has heard from the Osmonds, but suddenly they have taken over the world!

 

First it’s Marie prancing, dancing, and

fainting all over Dancing With the Stars.

 

 

 

  

 

 Then, in a random twist of

fate, Donny infiltrates the set

of Entertainment Tonight.  

 

 

  

 

Then, the world’s largest singing

mormon family is reunited

again under one roof.

 

 

 

Britney Spears’ Hair.

It’s been a very interesting year for your hair Britney. 

We’ve laughed. we’ve cried.

we’ve shrieked in horror.  but all in all, we miss it. 

please come back!

The Bachelorette, hot flashes, and a hail storm.

So for any of you complete losers out there, tonight was a big night in the way of reality TV.  In a three-hour drama fest, The Bachelorette choses Jesse over Jason to be her fiance in one of the most shocking rose ceremonies to date.  Although every rose ceremony is the most shocking to date, this one really was.  

Even if you have no clue what i’m talking about, you can appreciate the story thats about to come. 

Its 8:45.  the Bachelorette had just told the first guy ( as he was getting down on one knee) ”too bad so sad,” and then it was all a startling blur and somehow i was watching a burger king commercial -which was equally as intriguing to me.  i noticed 5 missed calls from my mom.  This was strange since we’d already talked today.  I got seriously worried thinking i must have a close relative lying in a ditch, dark alley, or jail cell somewhere.  

I call her and the following conversation takes place (my mom’s statements are in CAPS to emphasize the freaking out):

me: ”I saw you called me 5 times, whats wrong?”

mom: “I’M ABOUT TO HAVE A SERIOUS CORONARY, YOU HAVE NO IDEA”

me: “what happened?”

mom: “IS YOUR POWER OUT?  MY POWER IS OUT.  THE LAST THING I SAW WAS WHEN SHE BROUGHT THE GUYS HOME TO MEET HER PARENTS.  I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT IS HAPPENING.  ARE YOU TAPING IT?”

me: “i’m watching it.  why would i be taping it?”

mom: “YOU AREN’T TAPING IT?  WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?  I’VE BEEN WATCHING THIS SHOW FOR 6 WEEKS AND ON THE FINALE MY POWER GOES OUT.  AND WE HAVE A HAIL STORM.  AND NOW I’M HAVING HOT FLASHES CUZ THE AIR IS OFF.”

me: “well, you didn’t miss that much.  she rejected jason.”

mom: “SHE WHAT?!?!”

me: “yea.  i was pretty surprised.  so now she’s gotta talk to the other guy.”

mom: “ARE YOU SERIOUS?  I THOUGHT FOR SURE SHE WAS PICKING JASON?  OH MY GOOOOOOSH. WELL, WHAT CAN I DO?  CAN YOU TURN IT UP SO I CAN HEAR IT?”

me: “um, i guess i could.  i don’t know if you can hear it through a cell phone.  maybe i’ll put it on speaker.”

[standing the phone up on my desk and facing it toward the tv.... meanwhile, my boyfriend sitting in the corner gets confirmation that i have the most ridiculous family to ever exist.]

me: “can you hear it ok?”

mom: “YEA.  YEA. I CAN. OK.  BE QUIET NOW.”

[she picks jesse, he purposes, the show ends...]

me: “ok, well, at least you heard that part”

mom: “OH MAN.  I AM SO MAD YOU CAN’T IMAGINE.  MY HEAD IS ABOUT TO EXPLODE. ITS GOING TO LITERALLY EXPLODE.”

me: ” WAIT A MINUTE…it looks like it’s on for another hour!  its the After the Rose Ceremony.   she’s gonna confront the guy she dumped, reunite with her fiance, and make a special announcement!”

mom: “@%$#@^@!!”

me: “OK OK. SERIOUSLY.   i don’t have time for this.  i’ll tape it. bye.”

Happy Sixth of July

I totally forgot the reason I titled the last blog “hot ghetto mess”  was because I was introduced to a website called hotghettomess.com  and let me tell you - it’s the most ridiculous thing i’ve seen in quite some time.  PLEASE check it out and visit the picture gallery… then go to “errything else”  for some ghetto laughs. 

On a brief, sentimental note,  Happy Sixth of July to all my readers- old and new… and thank you for being a part of my blog.   And to ANYONE who was, is, or is thinking about being in any facet of the Army - you have my deepest respect and appreciation. 

A Hot Ghetto Mess.

I moved in my condo about a year ago.   Finally, last month i  got all the rooms painted.  About a week after that, I decided the living room wasn’t exciting enough.  I mean, it was this goldish yellow.  it was nice.  and soothing.  but come on.  the surrounding walls are pale yellow, the main wall is goldish yellow, and the couch is like some other form of yellow. 

i have no idea how this happened.

green. 

green is what i needed.  so i went to Home Depot, which in all actuality isn’t really the greatest paint store in the world as they train any Tom, Dick, and almost Hairy eighteen yr old boy to be a ”paint specialist” after viewing  a 10 minute video.  i think at one point i was even a paint specialist.   but as a former employee i still can’t bring myself to save big money at Menards.

 after many days of searching for the perfect green, i purchase a can and go home with my hopes set high.  i stared at the paint for a good two weeks, then finally got up the motivation to actually paint the paint. 

Of course, it is my living room that i’m painting, so this requires me to move and rearrange everything in my entire house in order to make this one wall more exciting.  I crack open the can only to be greeted with an all too harsh reality.  the paint looks nothing like the color on the swatch but everything like the color already on my wall- with a tiny smidge of green.  so its diarrhea yellow. 

The can sits in my car for another week.  then i go back to HD and tell the guy the situation..  of course he gives me the spiel about how colors look different in different lighting, blah blah blah.  really?  well what if i dipped you in a giant vat of shut up because i don’t care?  what color would you be then? 

i have him re-mix it.  he adds more black to make it less yellow.  then just it looked grey.  to which i replied, “i’m not an artist or anything, but what about adding more green?”  he tells me it will be fine, but i should use a blue primer underneath to counteract the yellow surface.  so he just mixes a random concoction of blues.  fair enough.

So i get home with my very green paint and my very blue primer.   this time i find a nice cozy home for it on my kitchen table right next to the rotten bananas.  Another week goes by and its July 3rd- my day off.   I wake up, get a far off look in my eye and think, Today is the day.    Today is the day my house will be forever changed.  I get out all my supplies, call in some help from mom, get on my painting clothes, and slap on the primer.   its a crazy  blue… and as i’m putting it on i’m thinking, now this is exciting.  Then, with the first swipe of my brush onto the freshly primed wall, all that comes to mind is peas.  mashed baby food peas. or mashed baby food peas throw up.  this isn’t going to work. 

I decided that i’ll just go with blue since apparently green paint is far too hefty of a request.  Finally, I decide on a nice aqua-ish / quasi-exciting color.  While i’m waiting for the guy to mix it, i tear off a $5 rebate coupon, which normally i’d never take the time to mess with - but after realizing that i’m burning through paint cans like hilary burns through pantsuits - i could start working on a future child’s college fund or something. 

i get home.  After doing a test spot on my wall, drying it, and analyzing it from afar… i notice that it is actually electric blue. it doesn’t even have a distant cousin named aqua.

The primer actually looked good next to that ridiculousness, so i put on a second coat.  and now my walls are blue primer blue.  and i kinda like it. 

A Banker’s Life: Crisis #1- “Can You Reset My Pin?”

[Here is a recent conversation between a Mr. X (we'll call him Mr. X to protect privacy, but i'll just tell you it's pronounced boo-ty) and myself]

Mr. X: ”yes, I’d like to reset my pin for my debit card, please.”

Me: “Sure, what would you like your pin to be?”

Mr. X: “B87754RH8″

Me: “Ok, sir, this is a pin number.  It can only be four numbers.”

Mr. X: “Ok.  just make it B877 then.”

Me: “No. I can’t do that.  It’s a pin NUMBER.  it has to be four numbers.  just like the last pin you had.”

Mr. X: “oh.  well, just keep it the same as I had before then.”

Me: “well, I can’t see what you had before.  I already deleted it.  You’ll just have to pick one.”

Mr. X: “Ok.   just make it the last four of my social.”

Me: “we do suggest for security reasons that you don’t use any personal information…”

Mr. X:  “oh. sure. ok.  how about 1959.  i’ll remember that.  its the year i was born.”

Me: “well, technically that wouldn’t be very secuuu.. actually, you know what?   that is a great idea.”

ATTENTION JONAS BROTHERS: Sixth Grade Wants You Back.

I didn’t realize that Hanson Part II existed until about a week ago…my bad.  I never was good at keeping up with the Jonases.   So sue me for not being abreast to the history-makers that are changing the fabric of our society.  I guess the trio has caused millions of teenage girls everywhere to suffer nearly suicidal bouts of depression and hormonal mood swings, so I thought to myself, “well, I better investigate this, they sound like a big deal.”

 

So I pulled up a sound clip on YouTube to see what I’ve been missing. 

Fifteen seconds later, I realized, that something has gone terribly awry.  “is anyone else in the world able to hear what I’m hearing?”  The ONLY feasible conclusion I could come to is that there is a pandemic spreading like wildfire accross this nation,  affecting the eardrums of girls everywhere - and I’m the only one who hasn’t caught it yet.  Considering I’m the only one left among the fruited plains with any sense, I feel it my duty to send an official warning to the children.

Dear Jonas Brothers,

In about three years, after you hit puberty, your voices will change (thank God for that) and you will no longer be able to sing any of your songs.  Unfortunately, three years is 1,095 days too many.  About a decade ago, another brotherly singing trio paved the way for you; and much like yourselves, they sucked.  Their name was HANSON - after their own last name, which strikes an eery resemblance to your band, JONAS BROTHERS.  Hanson’s greatest hit was a song that didn’t even have words as its title.  To this day, no one even knows what “mmmbop”  means or even is.  Well, you know what happened to them don’t you?  Once they grew male voices and unsightly body hair, they realized that all they had left was some pinups of themselves from TigerBeat and and an 8th grade education to finish.

This is your final warning.  Please stop whatever it is your trying to do.  Your mommy misses you.

Yours Truly,

The daily elephant