two dolla

not the same michael franti i know

Years and years and years ago (sometime in December of 2001), upon the insanely strong recommendation of a friend, I went to go see Michael Franti and Spearhead at a little joint called The Blue Note in Columbia, MO. I’d barely gotten a chance to listen to the music before four of us headed from Sedalia down I-70. I remember the show being one of the most amazing live shows I’d ever seen. The crowd was full of people that had followed this music for a while. And, quite honestly, their less than rhythmic dancing was a little awkward for me to watch, but there wasn’t a single person dancing that could have cared any less. And it was a really great experience – probably one of the best live shows I’d ever seen.

Totally took this at the show with my hot-to-trot Sony Mavica that stored pictures on floppy disks.

I listened to songs like these (off his Stay Human album, which is my favorite of his, by the way) for a long time:

And, then, the other day, a little part of me died inside. The same dude that had lyrics talking about not caring who politicians “were screwing in private” and the conspiracy behind Princess Diana’s death and wanting to “give the corporation some complications” is being played on 101.3 KDWB, which is one of Minneapolis’ 987908 stations owned by Clear Channel. It’s the same radio station that can be counted on to play no less than 13 songs by P!nk in the course of one work day. And the same radio station that’s been trying to give away tickets to something called BOOTY CRUISE.

Michael Franti, what happened, dude? I mean, nice work on bringing in some cash, but where in your darkened soul did you think it would be a good idea to appear at Sneaky Pete’s in downtown Minneapolis and actually be sponsored by the biggest mainstream radio station in the area? It makes me a little sad inside.

(Don’t get me wrong. I love his new song. I just hate that it’s turned him into mainstream.)

i forget i hate apartments for this reason

Despite the fact that I’m still living in my apartment, the management company had decided it would be a great idea to go ahead and show it. I get that in order to maximize the amount of rent they’ll be getting, they want to rent it out as soon as possible.

HOWEVER.

Since I’m in the process of moving, it’s kind of a given that we’re also in the process of, you know, PACKING.

I got a voicemail today from the girl that shows the apartments. She pronounces her name Curry-Un. Curry-Un had showed the apartment on Monday at 5:30 pm. She called around 3:30 to let me know. I was at work, so it wasn’t like I could leave to go home and clean up. The General packed the dogs in the car and left before they got here, which is especially nice considering I only have one dog on my lease. The apartment, in my opinion, looked great! The kitchen and bathroom were pretty much spotless, the carpets had been vacuumed, and the bed was even made.

Curry-Un, however, was a bit snotty in her voicemail telling me she had another showing coming up on Monday at 1:00 and complaining about the BOXES EVERYWHERE. The boxes are stacked as neatly as possible against walls. Because, let me reiterate – WE’RE MOVING. I wanted to call her back to tell her she was an absolute fucking moron and she could shove her stupid Minnesota accent up her gaping asshole. Then I remembered she’s probably going to be the person in charge of dictating how much of my deposit I get back.

I called her back. I left a disgustingly sweet voicemail confirming the future apartment showing and also telling her to give me a call back to let me know whatever it is that I need to clean before the next showing.I get they want to make money, but I also need to know where the hell she wants me to put all of my possessions in the meantime.

i just want to see them too

I love Flickr. A LOT. It’s solved so many of my photo organization and storage problems that I would probably name my first child after it. Every once in a while, it does this thing that absolutely infuriates me.

I upload some photos like, you know, one does when they fully utilize all of the awesome features that Flickr has. And then I go to look at my photostream and see something like this:

Do see see what’s going on?

There’s the title of the phone and the caption, but guess what? I can’t see the photo! Now obviously other people can, since there are comments that indicate as such. It’s just annoying for me, because I can’t see my own photos!

Am I the only person this happens to??

suck it, mchale

Erica (of cinna.mn and fresh.mn fame) invited me to tag along to a Timberwolves game last night, since she’d received two suite tickets with her Lynx season ticket package. I couldn’t really say no, because HEY I LIKE BASKETBALL.

Coincidentally enough, last night was Kevin McHale’s second coaching debut, since Randy Wittman got the axe earlier for his second shitty start to a season in a row. (Ironic fact #1: It’s safe to blame McHale for the lack of talent that Wittman’s had to coach, thanks to his little shenanigans with Joe Smith several years ago.)

Really, is Kevin McHale your only answer, Glen Taylor? I know you have some kind of gigantic boner for this dude and probably had his jersey back in the day sitting in your closet next to Larry Bird and Robert Parish’s. Maybe even Danny Ainge’s. I don’t know your life, man! I just know McHale is not as golden of a child as you want him to be.

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i hate matthew at the eagan old navy

Here it is the first day of NaBloPoMo(Lmnsosalkja – it’s just a lot of letters!) and I was worried I wouldn’t have anything to write about. But since I ventured into public today, that ended up not being a problem.

Riley had an appointment today to get some scheduled vaccinations. When I got there, they reminded me that he was due for a comprehensive exam and asked if the could do it then and there. I wasn’t going to turn it down, since it’s one less trip I have to make to the doctor, so I went ahead and let the doc do her thing. And me? I decided to go shopping.

I wound up at the Old Navy in Eagan, MN (address is 1263 Promenade Place, in case you wanted to know which one it was). I can always use some new t-shirts and I wanted to see if I could find something awesome to start The Boy’s Christmas gift gathering.

As I was browsing through different things, the first thing I noticed was that Old Navy clothes have really turned to crap. I can’t wear any of the lady clothes there, because they won’t fit over my magically grown breastseses. I opt for the Dude Section, where I can usually find some awesome sweaters, or solid color shirts to wear under work suits, or even some t-shirts that make me happy. I ended up finding an adorable thermal for The Boy (can it be adorable if it’s from the men’s section?) and a t-shirt for myself and then I headed to the checkout lanes.

Or I should say lane, because there was only one open. Never mind the at least 12 people that were waiting to pay for their cheap, half-trendy clothing. They eventually opened up another checkout lane, and that was enough to distract me for a second to find a $1 t-shirt for The Boy, and then I got back in line.

There was an older lady paying for her items – and by older, I mean old enough to be my grandma. She wanted to write a check. The nice old lady didn’t seem like the type that regularly shops at Old Navy, so she was a little taken aback by what happens if you write a check there. (FYI: They scan it into their fancy cash register, it automatically debits it from your checking account, they give you the check back, and then you have to sign something.) This isn’t really something a 75 year old grandma lady is going to know about and quite possibly not even understand.

But Matthew the Cash Register Monkey, who also happened to be the most gigantic red-headed douche bag I’ve ever ran across, had apparently missed that whole part of the job description that talks about providing awesome customer service, even to old grandma ladies. Holy cow, was he a gigantic asshole to this lady. She was never rude or cross with him; she just simply didn’t understand the process. And instead of taking two minutes to explain it to her, Matthew the Cash Register Monkey just kept repeating: “I’m not in charge of making these decisions”. He said it at least six times. Which is just about the number of times I felt like kicking him square in the niblets.

By the time I got up to pay for my three items, Riley’s doctor had called to let me know everything was awesome and he was ready to be picked up. Matthew the Cash Register Monkey rang up my purchases (ringing one up wrong, I might add) and in the midst of my transaction, looks over at another Cash Register Monkey and says to her, “Did you hear the way that old lady was talking to me? She just kept berating me over and over like I was doing something wrong!” And then, because I guess I look like the kind of person that enjoys seeing pricks in their early 20s treat elderly people like shit, Matthew the Cash Register Monkey gives me a chuckle like we’d just made some common bond.

I gave him the best “I hope your penis falls off right now” look, and as he handed me my receipt, I showed my appreciation by saying “Thanks a lot, dick” while walking out. And still on the phone with Riley’s doctor, I might add. Passive-aggressive? Probably. But it’s the best I could do right then and there.

Every time I’ve ever been to this Old Navy, there’s always been the world’s worst customer service and I don’t know why I continue to go back. I’ve never been treated as though I’m a paying customer, but more as a giant walking turd that just happened to want a $10 t-shirt to cover up my giant walking turd body.

I’m never going there again and will probably write a strongly worded letter that will contain a good part of this post… possibly not the turd part, though.

irritated by small town life

I watched the video below (via Erica) today on two occasions: once without sound and once with. Without sound, I immediately noticed the familiar sight of the “Sunset Motel” from my many years and now many visits to my hometown of Sedalia, Missouri.

And then I watched the video:

America Is F*cked…….(Graphically at least) from Jess Gibson on Vimeo.

And now I’m in love with this guy. He buys a sign off eBay while drunk, takes a three day drive to Sedalia, hires a sign company to take it apart, and then becomes insanely angry. And for good reason.

Impact Sign, the place that came up with the shitty logo that involves some “fancy gradients” and a color scheme from Miami Vice, is a company that, as far as I know, has put up some pretty shitty signs. According to their website, they’ve put up signs for places like Big Lots and Culligan water, but we all know some tiny ass company in the middle of Missouri didn’t come up with the original designs of those particular signs. They also design fancy things like stock car stickers and ridiculously ugly decorations to put on your farm trucks. But you know what my favorite is? This one:

That’s some fancy shit right there. I’m going to make it my personal mission to find this large hunk of shit when I go home for Thanksgiving. Then I’m going to take a picture of it and quite possibly pee on it.

how i’m justifying stealing a wireless signal

Hey, you knew a Comcast rant was coming! Since moving automatically involves interaction Comcast, it was bound to happen.

2/12: I called Comcast to set up a disconnect at my old apartment and a reconnect at my new apartment. I did it 2 weeks in advance, just so there wouldn’t be a long amount of time between internet/watching TV, because hi, I’m addicted to both. Appointment scheduled for 2/22 from 11:00 – 2:00 p.m. The lady pitches a Triple Play Promo (OMGPROMO) and I agree to it, because ti’s cheaper. I ask if I need to go ahead and bring my TVs and computer to the new apartment. She says no.

2/21: Internet and TV service is disconnected at the old apartment. Good job, Comcast.

2/22 12:00 p.m.: While waiting for the cable installer to show up, I get a call from Comcast to tell me I have a past due balance. I ask the lady to check again, and she says, "Oh, right. Nope, no past due balance." Hey, I’m almost 30. I pay my bills now. And then she decides the reason she’s calling is because I have equipment from a closed account. I remind her that the account was just closed the day before, and it’s actually being reactivated at any moment, depending on when the cable guy arrives. She says, "Oh, right. Sorry about that." and hangs up.

2/22 12:45 p.m.: The cable guy shows up. Really nice guy. Asks me where my computer is. I tell him I don’t have it here yet, and he says he can’t hook up all of the digital products without it (i.e. my phone service and digital cable). He calls and sets up another appointment for me, being Tuesday (tomorrow), because that was the first availability. While he’s here, he turns on my regular cable so I don’t have to go without. Super nice guy, and gold star for him.

2/23 5:30 p.m: I hook up all the electronics that belong on my TV stand, including the cable modem. And then I notice, HEY, all the lights on my cable modem are on! I might have internet service! I had Tivo check for me, and of course, it couldn’t connect. I called Comcast tech support, and ended up talking to a guy who talked to me like I was stupid. I, in turn, decided to talk to him like he was a phone sex operator. In the duration of this phone call, I cancel the triple play option thingamajig and decide to just stick with internet/standard cable. He told me I had to call the sales department, so I decided to go ahead and do that. But not until we celebrated Matt’s birthday. At bars.

2/24 12:43 a.m.: After a few drinks, I decided to call Comcast back. They’re open 24 hours, so why not? A very nice lady answered the phone. She tried a lot of things; I was laying in bed. She put me on hold while she checked something, and I fell asleep. She woke me up, and I’m pretty sure she knew I was sleeping based on my response of "Hrmmmph". She told me I’d have to call back sometime after 10:00 a.m. when the supervisors got there. Um, okay.

2/24 10:30 a.m.: I call and talk to another nice lady. For the 3rd time, I have to explain the situation. She tells me that she knows what has to happen, but it has to be done by the "warehouse", and those people aren’t in the office until Monday. She took my contact information and promised it’d be done first thing this morning and she’d give me a call when it had been completed.

2/25 12:05 p.m.: I call again, because I’m impatient. I get transferred to three different people and finally reach a guy, who needs me to explain the story three times. He does some things on his end that require me repeating the MAC address on my modem fourteen times and him sighing about 6510 times. He lets me know that, "yeah, someone will have to call you when it’s all said and done." Great. I’m supposed to call back in four hours if I don’t hear from them.

2/25 12:35 p.m.: My phone rings and I can tell it’s Comcast. It’s a recording letting me know that I had canceled the appointment I had scheduled for tomorrow to get everything installed. THANKS, IDIOTS. I’d cancel everything else if it was an option. TRUST ME.

2/25 5:33 p.m.: Of course it’s not fixed. I called and talked to a guy, who had to read through fourteen different pages of notes. I’ve been nothing but pleasant every time I’ve called, because with the cable company, it’s not going to do any good to be angry with them. This kid told me the same thing the last two people have told me, only he put an ESCALATION on my account. Oooh, and escalation! I asked him this was any different then the first two times someone’s supposedly did something, and he didn’t have an answer except an offer for me to talk to his supervisor. I’m sleepy and cranky right now, so I didn’t talk to the supervisor. This kid’s timeframe for it to be all taken care of? As soon as possible. Thanks, dickweed. Heard that before. I’ll sit and wait until tomorrow morning before I call to find out why it’s so hard for my "modem to be added to the network", because clearly nothing’s going to get done outside of normal business hours.

2/26 12:11 p.m.: Still nothing. No surprise. I call back. After being transfered twice, I wind up talking to Sook. Sook is very helpful and tells me that the last few reps I’ve talked to have made notes that I own the modem. Now, this is odd, because A) I’ve paid $3/month for the last two years to use it (maybe I *should* buy one), B) I’ve told them this every time and C) considering I’m billed for it monthly, you’d think it’d show up on my account. And because I am renting this modem, I have to go exchange it for a new one since I "moved markets", which is what happens when one moves from Eagan to Minneapolis. I wouldn’t be pissed about it, but this is the 6th time I’ve called and I’m just now hearing about this little exchange program. I tell Sook I want to talk to a supervisor, just to make sure everything is kosher. He doesn’t blame me and puts me on hold while he tries to find one. He comes back several minutes later (I was pooping; I had time to kill) and tells me they’re all on the phone, but he promises one will call me back.

2/26 10:50 p.m.: I call back, because I want to find out if I should really be exchanging the modem tomorrow and I want to find out where the fuck the phone call is I was supposed to receive earlier today might be. And I guess I’m just a gigantic glutton for punishment at this point. And fucking fuck. This dude verifies that, yep, I have to go exchange modems. Comcast is getting a very nasty letter and a very nasty email and anything else I can do, because holy shit, this is ridiculous. It took seven phone calls and by the time I pick up the modem tomorrow, five days for me to figure this out.

And until my SuckComcasttastic service is actually up and running, I’m stealing internet service and my Tivo is said because it still thinks I’m watching Eagan channels.

I have another post to rant about, too, but I need to at least unpack two boxes today or I’ll feel completely unproductive.

t-mobile is on my shit list

Seriously.

I’ve been a customer since 2004, which is really all that long, but for me? That’s a long ass commitment. And since October, I’ve wanted to kick them in the shins. My phone, which I bought sometime last spring and still had to stretch my contract out for two more years, has turned into a giant pile of shit, as has T-Mobile’s attempt to do anything to rectify things on their end.

My phone has some issues. It periodically reboots itself in the middle of sending text messages. Considering I send and receive somewhere around 1500 text messages a month, that kind of becomes a pain in the ass. Another neat feature it’s developed, and I can only imagine it’s so I save battery power, is turning off at random times: while in my pocket, on my bedside table, or even when it’s just sitting on my desk waiting for the guy from Pizza -N- Pasta to call. And most recently? I’ll be on the phone with someone, and all of a sudden, the phone goes dead – I can’t hear them, and they can’t hear me. Give it anywhere from 10 seconds or three minutes, and everything’s just fine again. So, really, this phone is not so helpful when it comes to taking part in phone interviews for the job(s) of my dreams.

In October, I talked to some a-hole at T-Mobile, who completely agreed my phone was faulty and since it was still under warranty, they could send me a new one! NEAT, I thought, and what great customer service! And then they told me I’d have to pay for shipping – $9.95 + tax. Now, I know that’s not a lot of money, and that’s not the point at all. It’s just the principle. Why should I have to pay them money to ship me a phone, when I can walk half a mile to the T-Mobile store I bought the phone from and just exchange it there? That’s logical. T-Mobile? Not so logical. It’s their phone, their problem. I didn’t do anything to break this particular phone, and it infuriates me to think they don’t stand 100% behind the phones they sell in their registered stores.

I’ve been dealing with it since then, and then the whole dead air thing started happening today. I can’t deal with that. Especially since I discontinued my Vonage service in November. (That’s another story about shitty customer service I should tell sometime.)

I called and talked to Bianca, who was very sweet and as helpful as she could be. Even if her response to my questioning the logic of their policy was "unfortunately not everything is logic"… (I’ll let you think about that one for a while, too.) Then it came time to ship me my new phone and it wouldn’t let her do it without transferring me to a Tier 2 Technician. The title "Tier 2 Technician" at T-Mobile also comes with a free Superiority Complex. I should see if they’re hiring. Then I could sit in a cube right next to Tonya, the horribly apathetic "Tier 2 Technician", and listen to her say "Definitely" about 40 times per call.

Tonya didn’t do much in the way of servicing my customer needs. I wasn’t really asking for a lot. Just for them to waive the stupid $10 shipping fee, but that was pretty quickly denied. Because T-Mobile is actually paying for half the shipping charges, she said, so they’re really doing me a favor by splitting it with me. FYI? It apparently costs $20 to ship a very small cell phone from the T-Mobile Empire to my apartment, and I still have to wait seven business days for it. Hey, guys? UPS is totally ripping you off. Send that shit Priority Mail, and I’ll be glad to pay my half of that.

In any case, I gave her the whole "I’m canceling my service when my contract is up" speech, and her response was: "Definitely. I’m sorry you feel that way."

Definitely, I do.

And now I’m on the hunt for a T-Mobile phone that I can buy NOT through T-Mobile and still have awesome things like a camera and, you know, a reception. Except all the cheap phones on Ebay want me to sign a contract. No, thanks. I’m already going to have to trade my first born son (who I’ll call Hambone, for short) in to get out of this contract.

IN CONCLUSION, T-Mobile is my arch nemesis right now.

 

dick move

So, tonight? We went to Dixie’s on Grand, where they were celebrating Fat Tuesday with some free beads and a performance from Jack Brass Band. We love both of those, so we went!  When I finally found  a place to park, I realized I’d parked right in front of the management company who denied me my apartment I loved so much a couple of weeks ago. "Well, that’s motherfuckin’ convenient," I thought and walked on to the bar.

And then, just because ti’s what I do, I got home tonight and browsed the available apartments on Craigslist, in case I have possibly missed the apartment of my dreams (and Riley’s, too) and I find an apartment owned by this particular management company. And you know what it says in the ad? I’ll tell ya:

**Students and 1st time renters encouraged to apply!**

Really, you shit for brains management company? You’ll deny me – who’s had years of perfect rental history and not one single complaint against me while living in a fucking hippo-infested building, but yet you’ll allow someone who’s never had any rental history at all? I hate you a lot, and just as soon as I have a confirmed apartment, there’s gonna be a nice little rant about your shitty business practice, including the name of your stupid ass company. You know why? Because I like it when people type in a particular company’s name and then they find my website. It gives me great pleasure.

Dicks.

 

w-zero-zero-t

w00t – expressing joy (it could be after a triumph, or for no reason at all); similar in use to the word "yay"

That’s the 2007 Word of the Year, and I’m sure you noticed that if you read anything on the internet at all today.

Merriam-Webster’s president, John Morse, said "w00t" was an ideal choice because it blends whimsy and new technology. (via)

Whimsy and new technology? How about it blends stupid with even more stupid.

ABCNews goes for the stretch, though. They try to compare this lame ass, alphanumerical word with a line from Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman:

For technophobes, the word also is familiar from the 1990 movie "Pretty Woman," in which Julia Roberts startles her date’s upper-crust friends with a hearty "Woot, woot, woot!" at a polo match.

No, dumbasses. That was around the same time as Arsenio Hall did close to the same thing during his late night talk show, and so help me if the Internet says Arsenio Hall invented the word w00t, I will never use it again.

Word #7 on the list? Apathetic. Which is exactly how this whole thing makes me feel.