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I know I’m going to be elderly one day, well, unless I’m shot in an east coast/west coast rap war. Here’s a news clip on John McCain’s brother Joe calling 911 to complain about traffic.
Beyonce wants to go by “Sasha Fierce” now. Her new album is titled “I am Sasha Fierce.” She feels the name is more sensual, aggressive, and glamorous. WTF? First Prince became a symbol you couldn’t pronounce, then Puff Daddy became Puffy, then P. Diddy, then Diddy.
You know, I’ve never thought “Kerry” is all that glamorous. It’s certainly not aggressive. So not sensual. Good grief. From now on I’m going by my alter ego, Champagne Supernova. I think it’s aggressive, sensual, and glamorous. Take that, Sasha Fierce!
I wasn’t going to really post today, but I just finished dealing with my student loan online (you know, the one I have from college, but the degree wasn’t included — always read the fine print, a little tip from me to you, dear readers) and I couldn’t get this out of my head.
Okay, so Scott asked me what we owe on my loan, I said I’d check. That started the whole thing. A simple question turned into an afternoon of Sallie Mae annoying the hell out of me. By the way, what is it with loan companies names? Sallie Mae, Fannie Mae, Freddy Mac? It’s weird. Anymae, I tried to log onto the site and I put in all the log-in names I could think of, but struck out each time. I went with Plan B, where they email you your log-in name, well, that didn’t work either. They have an email address for me I haven’t had for almost a decade. People change email addresses, but Sallie Mae makes you re-register if you’ve changed your email address and can’t remember your log-in name because you’ve been paying them like a good citizen all these years and hadn’t needed to go to their website and don’t have a statement handy to get your account number.
The re-registration process was painful. I picked my user name, filled in all the stuff and they tell me my user name is in use, well no freakin’ s**t, Sallie Mae! It’s in use because it’s still me and you won’t let me log-in! I’ve used the same user name for everything for the past 11 or so years, so there you go. I picked another user name and proceeded on to the weirdest thing I’ve encountered in an online registration. It wanted me to pick 5 security questions. Five. I think it’s easier to get into the Pentagon’s site. Damn. I have 3 kids — I can’t think of five answers and this isn’t freaking Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. Here’s the questions I had to choose from, the for-real questions. Guess which ones I chose.
What is the name of your last school attended? Don’t you have that? It’s the one I have the damn loan for.
What is the last name of your favorite grade-school teacher? Mr. Hayes. He was cute and that’s the reason I never paid attention during math.
What is the name of your favorite band or musician? The greatest band in the world, Morris Day and the mother effin’ Time!
What is the name of your favorite book author? Book author? Really? Dr. Seuss.
What is the name of your favorite relative as a child? What kind of question is that? What if I was an orphan? I’m not, but let’s say I was. What if I was raised by mountain lions. Or ninjas.
What is your greatest fear? Way to bring down the mood, Sallie. Owls. Everybody knows they’re creep city. Oh, and those Furby toys, those freak me out, too, ’cause they look like owls. Oh, and Dick Cheney.
What is the street your favorite residence is on (no abbreviations e.g. East versus E.)? What? Weird question, but an easy one. Elvis Presley Blvd. Boulevard, excuse me.
What is your favorite vacation spot? Anywhere Scott and I can get away without the munchkins. But not Canada.
What is the name of your best friend from childhood? Define childhood. Elementary school, middle, high school? You’re not going to call them are you? Is this for a character reference?
What is the make and model of your first car? Barbie Corvette, jealous?
What was your first job? Define job.
What is the name of the first grade school you attended? What’s with the obsession with my childhood? Are you my psychiatrist? I’ve moved on, so should you. Thanks to doctors, medications, and Ben & Jerry I’m doing fine, now, really. Thanks for your concern.
What is the name of your first pet? Again with the childhood questions? Why bring up bad memories? My first dog was named Shine and she ran away or at least that’s what my liar, liar, liar pants on fire parents told me. Then I found out they gave her away. And Sam my Cocker Spaniel didn’t go to live on a doggie farm, either! Great, now I’m upset.
What is your mother’s maiden name? Is she paying my loan off? Then I don’t think you need that information. Fine, it’s Liesaboutpets — it’s an Indian name.
I feel better now. I don’t know why Sallie Mae’s “security” questions were so hostile. All I wanted was to find out what my loan balance was and now I can’t get owls and my deceased pets out of my mind.
Hi peeps, I’m not feeling superfantastic today (see above card, minus a few letters) and don’t want to offend anyone, so I thought not blogging today might be a good idea. I have a couple of hours worth of cleaning to do and I’ll get to it, but I’d rather be on the sofa in a blanket watching a marathon on Project Runway or House and have brownies. Do not underestimate the healing power of a good brownie.
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Apparently today is old dude and screaming baby day at the Covington Walmart. Oh, you didn’t get the memo either? I never go to Walmart anymore for this reason. Because I’m a genius, I thought I’d go to Walmart for groceries and Halloween candy, and of course, to help others.
I don’t know what it is about my adorable face that says “fount of knowledge,” but I’m going to make a name tag for myself that says “chief information officer” for when I’m out and about. I was walking on an outside aisle when an old dude practically jumped out in front of me to ask my opinion on which iron he should buy. Now, I don’t commonly walk around with my small appliance guide of Consumer Reports, but I did my best. Old dude didn’t want to spend a lot of money, but he wanted a lot of features on his iron for some reason. I guess he likes to iron, we didn’t get into his life history. Since they didn’t have any Rowenta irons, I told him he would be fine with a Black and Decker model. He thanked me, I went on my not-so-merry way to office supplies, to find there still weren’t any new colors of the new Sharpie pen. I’m a pen horder and I love the new Sharpie pen, so what? In the middle of office supplies I encountered screaming baby #1. Made my way to women’s clothes to look for a Halloween t-shirt, couldn’t find one I liked, so I went to find oven cleaner. Screaming baby #2. I’m almost embarrassed to admit it, but I’ve never cleaned an oven, so I didn’t know what to buy. I bought Easy-Off Fume Free, since I’m prone to migraines sometimes triggered by scents. Anyodor, picked up some Mr. Clean Magic Erasers and focused on groceries.
In the milk section there was mom and her screaming toddler who wanted chocolate milk. For a minute I thought of opening some and giving it to the boy. I decided against it and put skim milk in my cart. I made it through a few more aisles without having to talk to anyone, then in the cereal aisle Mr. Old Dude #2 found me. His wife sent him for oats and he didn’t know what to get, he was thinking oatmeal , I told him she probably just meant Quaker Oats if she didn’t say oatmeal. Ladies, I learned many moons ago that you have to be super specific when you send your husband to the grocery store. If you’re not specific, they will bring home beer and wine when you ask them to get drinks when you were thinking juice boxes and Coke. Anyalcohol, I started to look for the new Honey Bunches of Oats: Just Bunches, ’cause this girl loves some Honey Bunches of Oats and the prospect of a box of Just Bunches gives me a thrill like when Oprah announces to her audience that she’s giving them all new cars. I’m telling you, I’m a geek and it takes so little for me to be excited. There were no Just Bunches to be found. It was at that time I realized it’s probably not a good idea to say “oh hell no, where are the Honey Bunches of Oats-Just Bunches? Damn communist store!” in front of a Walmart employee. They look at you kinda weird after that. I had one of my “did I say that outloud” moments. I’m used to it, whatev.
While hunting for the right bunch of bananas (not too green, not too big that the kids won’t finish the banana,) I heard the best old dude dialogue ever. Old dude yells across the produce section to his wife, “are we good on sweet puhtadas?” She nods. “How ’bout snap beans?” She nods. “Regular puhtadas?” Wife was starting to get annoyed, I could see it. This guy was yelling. I remembered I hadn’t taken my medicine before I took Andrew to MDO. I decided I needed to get out of there before I had an anxiety attack. I didn’t even bring up the group of Latino men in the lingerie section or the Elvis impersonator-looking guy I saw walking around with a pumpkin. He wasn’t in costume, just looked like the King. A lot. With a giant pumpkin.
Of course I couldn’t get out of Walmart without something weird happening at the checkout. The cashier is bagging all my Halloween candy and asked if we have a lot of trick-or-treaters in my neighborhood and instead of saying, “no, I’m just hungry,” I said yes. Told her some of it’s for the fall festival at the girls’ school, too. There is a screaming baby at the next register. She tells me her daughter is having a fall festival, too, when weird dude behind me chimes in about how he’s retired from making babies! Oh, hell no moment #2. This guy is not telling me about his vasectomy, oh wait, yes he is. Did I ask for this info? NO. He’s telling me that after 4 kids, he got snipped and that was the end of “that train and now it’s better than ever.” Oh, yeah, he said that.
This kind of crap only happens to me. I’m serious. I swear I’m not going back to Walmart. And I mean it this time.
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