Talk about Mission Impossible..

Ever have one of those bills that you always seems to get paid a couple of days late? I do. It's my cable bill. Which, I guess it kinda funny because if my cable ever got cut off I would totally go apeshit. ASIDE from being an internet junkie, it's bundled, so I'd be sitting here with no internet, no TV and nobody to call (cell phone? Who uses their cell phone to make CALLS?)

Anyways, I've tried getting them to change it so that it would be easier for me to pay, but. Whatever. Yeah. I could totally pay this early, but, really no I can't. So. Late. But I *DO* pay it. So there's that.

So. Bill. Came in the mail yesterday. I've already set up my payment, but then I thought...you should call them and tell them it's going to be paid Friday. So, I call the 800number. Aaaannnnd....cue the ridiculousness:

TW*: Hi, your bill is late. So don't even think about pay-per-view or ordering a special event.

Me:...

TW: So. How are you going to pay your bill? Credit card, check? I'll hold on while you get me my money, bitch.

Me:...WTF? Umm...Customer Service? Operator?

Hey...In case you didn't know...THIS CALL WAS COMPLETELY AUTOMATED. I NEVER SPOKE TO A REAL PERSON.

TW: Sorry, I didn't understand. Since your bill is late AND you apparently DON'T speak English, let me make this simple. Press 1 for credit card, 2 for check and 3 for some other way to pay. 'Cause you ARE going to pay me before this call is done.

Me: No. Help? Customer Service? ROEIODJFSDKUEYYEGIFH...Operator? How the fuck do I get to a real person?

TW: Let's try this again: SAY 1 for credit card. SAY or press 2 for check. GIVE. ME. SOME. MONEY.

Me:

TW: Fine. If there's something else you want, press 8.

Me: 8

TW: Seriously though, if you talk to a person to pay your bill, we're going to charge you $5.

Me: The fuck? Transfer me already.

TW: FINE, THEN. BUT. If you just want an extension so you can pay us later..press 5.

Me: 5.

TW: Okay, you have until Decem-

Me: *click*

I don't care anymore. Apparently, I have more time than I need. Bill is still getting paid Friday, so... Mission Accomplished?

*OBVIOUSLY, these weren't their exact words, but umm...seriously? I think this was more or less what they were trying to say. I'm SURE they have their reasons for automating;  clearing making it mission impossible to speak to an actual HUMAN must have been at the top of that list.

I get it. You want to get paid. And surprisingly, I want to pay you. But, the strong arm tactics? The you-can't-do-anything-until-you-pay-your-bill-not-even-talk-to-a-person behavior? TOO FAR. I know you think that I'm too cheap/lazy/dependent on you to change services so you can just treat me any ol' kind of way, except. I'M NOT. Get it together, Time Warner, you are a CUSTOMER SERVICE ORIENTED enterprise. How about you act like it?

What I learned from NaBloPoMo

1. Attempting to post everyday is IMPOSSIBLE. For me. I don't know how some of you do it, I suspect that you're just some sort of jackass show off who wants to make me look bad by using kickass time management skills, but WHATEVA.

2. Y'all are some awesome writers. I'm not going to lie, my Reader always gets a little constipated this time of the month, because a lot of you are taking this time to write a post a day (see #1) which means that where I was only reading a few posts a week/month, there is now a post. EVERY. DAY. BUT. This whole NaBloPoMo has made me remember why I put you in my reader in the first place.

3. I learned that if you don't have anything to say, you can post a picture and it still counts as a blog post. Heh.

4. I missed blogging! I went from blogging on average every couple of days to blogging MAYBE once or twice a month. Pfft. I blame twitter. It's much easier being a jackass 140 characters at a time, than writing a big long post about my jackassyness. (It is too a word) ANYWAYS, even the attempt at blogging for 30 days straight made me remember that I'm interesting! And funny! And I have SHIT TO SAY.

So the moral of the story is that I didn't have to do all 30 days to get back into the swing of blogging. I mean... it's not like when you have strep throat and your doctor gives you a weeks worth of antibiotics and you only take 4 days because after the 4th days YOU FEEL FINE and SEE? MY THROAT'S NOT EVEN HURTING ANYMORE, and then the next thing you know, your throat is feeling scratch again because you didn't take your meds as prescribed. Right? RIGHT?

Yep, even though I said I was going to do NaBloPoMo I didn't, because I can't be trusted to do anything for 30 days and so I haven't blogged in a week, but now that I have, it's a whiny post about my Fantasy Football. Deal.

So this team on the left, yeah...that's mine. YES. I AM SO LAZY THAT I DIDN'T EVEN COME UP WITH A NAME FOR MY TEAM. Although, quite frankly, I don't know that Mona Monday is better. But, WHATEVA. Because she's kicking my ass. I'm getting my ass kicked by a girl on a stripper pole. Gah!

To be fair, a lot of my starting team was on a bye week (for those unfamiliar: they were off this weekend. Probably boozing it up or sending pictures of their junk to random females, or whatever it is those athletes do when they've got some time off) But still. My Kicker, who I picked because apparently my competitive streak overrode my absolute hatred of all teams Boston, went randomly injured reserve. And my back-up kicker was what? ON A BYE WEEK. 

Also? Those players on their P's (Probables) and Q's (Questionables)? Yeah. When I left them on the bench they got points in the double figures. But of course, when I start them then they want to act all too injured to play well. I mean, really? EITHER YOU ARE INJURED OR YOU AREN'T. STOP PLAYING WITH MY EMOTIONS.

You would think I would be mollified by the fact that Steve Smith got no points. But that would be negated by the fact that MY STEELERS GOT NEGATIVE POINTS. Negative! Points! I love you Steelers. I do. But why were you so bad that you didn't just get NO points, you went backward in scoring?!  From the team that lost to the Browns, JUST. LAST. WEEK.

I don't even want to talk about how I had OchoCinco who got 21 points his first game and hasn't been able to catch a pass since... or about how we both have a Monday game tonight and both of our players are on the same team, and how I need for MY player to get more than 6 points and for HER player to either get injured and get zero (OR NEGATIVE) points.

Nope. I'm just gonna sit here and dream the impossible dream - the one where I actually WIN this week's match up. After all, this is FANTASY football, right? 

/rant

A Rhetorical Question

So. Say you are invited to a friend’s party. An 80’s vs. 90’s party where pretty much EVERYBODY has gotten into flashback spirit. There are bodysuits, pretty in pink type prom dresses, and even big gold chains. Didn’t even hear a song older than 1999. And as a girl, whose teen years were in the 80’s and partied in the 90’s, *I* would know. Even Humpty Hump was there! (Okay, maybe not the REAL humpty…but a reasonable facsimile)


A good time was had by ALL y’all. I just have one question



@dancanielle "The Bomb" Photbomber



Is it rude to photobomb Humpty when he’s mugging for the camera?

I saw this picture on FB and I couldn’t resist tagging her because REALLY? That is just TOO funny.

Just a reminder...

In my mind, when I look at my daughter...I see a LOT of husband. She looks like him, they have the same eyes, nose and complexion.

She's got a lot of his tastes. Earlier this week, she sent him a text because OMG, DADDY, THE McRIB is BACK AND WHEN CAN WE GET TO McDONALDS?!

And just when I think that there isn't a shred of me lurking inside of her....

She proves me wrong.

And this is why I love my friends...

None Not all my friends understand my fascination with the interwebs. They are more facebook people...if you know what I mean.

But that's okay. When I find things around the intertubes I think they'll enjoy, I e-mail it to them. Like this post from Miss Tejota. It's got promises of free vibrators, and Movember.  TJ's post also posted a website where you could show your support by sporting your own mustache.And I know my friends y'all. A good cause AND a paper mustache?

I mean, because REALLY. What did you think was going to happen?

I really hope this doesn't mean I have daddy issues

My dad was pretty strict.

I have NO IDEA why he was. I say WAS because now that he's got grandkids all of a sudden he's not a shouter or a spanker or a EAT EVERYTHING OFF YOUR PLATE OR YOU'RE GOING TO BED-er. Now he's all mellow, and cool with the fact that the boy won't eat potatoes (not even french fries) and the girl won't drink milk. (WTF?)

That's not actually what this story is about though. It's about how how my dad was SUPER STRICT, and would practically time our walk home and give us the 3rd degree if we got home 4 minutes later than we usually did, and how he complained that our skirts were too short and our pants were too tight, and one time made me return a purple mini-dress because he claimed it was too little and no daughter of his was going to school with her butt hanging out, even though I promised to wear shorts under it.

I was not my Dad's biggest fan growing up. Clearly he was fashion backwards. And when he & my mom separated, I bought a bazillion minis and wore them to school every day. Unless I was wore colored skinny jeans. And rest assured, I was a skinny girl, wearing even skinnier jeans.

Let's flash forward 20-ish years shall we?

The Man? Never does one lick of shopping for the girl. EVER. I buy the shoes, the jeans, the gym clothes. I buy the colored socks, and even the inappropriate sloganed t-shirts. I come home, show him everything I bought...and all I get for my troubles is an "oh, that's nice."

Until today. Today it was 90 degrees. IN NOVEMBER. I KNOW, right? It felt like I was living on the surface of the sun. So this morning, after the warning that it was going to be a thousand degrees, The Brat tossed on a tank and a pair of shorts. It should be noted that since Mama doesn't want her baby's cooch to be showing,  I make EXTRA SPECIAL CARE to make sure none of her shorts will let this happen. Also? I've seen the shorts the girls wear at her school, her shorts are long pants in comparison.

I see her before I leave for work, I say "Make sure you put on a jacket. It's cold in the mornings"

My husband sees her before he takes her to the bus stop and says "Why isn't the baby wearing any clothes? I don't want her prancing around school half naked....blah blah blah....all you girls ever want to wear are teeny tiny shorts blah blah extra tight pants blah blah....(did he just say get off my lawn?)"

I stop listening, because I was transported to my father complaining about mini-skirts....

When did The Man turn into MY DAD?

If he tries to make me clean my room, there is going to be T-R-O-U-B-L-E.

It's also Plan Your Own Epitaph Day*

I read a lot of blogs. I mean, a LOT. As in, if everybody in my Reader actually posted for NaBloPoMo, I would be in a shit load of trouble. As it is, if I skip a few days, I start panicking about how I'm going to read all those posts.

But you know what I don't do?

Comment.

I'm not sure why. Sometimes, it's because I just don't have time to read and comment while simultaneously pretending like I don't have work/laundry/homework/OTHER SHIT to do. Sometimes, I don't think I can say anything of value in the comments. Or sometimes, some other funny motherfucker said what I wanted to say, but funnier. I HATE THAT.

But. If you're going through all of the trouble of posting everyday, the very least I could do is comment, right? Especially since I'm reading. I mean, isn't that's what it's all about? Yeah, yeah, you totally do it for YOU and you would still blog even if NOBODY read it. But...dont lie... isn't it nice when somebody does?

And so, I'm ALSO naming this month National Commenting like a MoFo Month or NaCoMoFo.

If you post it and I read it, I'll comment on it. Because I liked it/thought it was funny/think you are a blogging bad ass. Really.



*Here Lies UndercoverMama. She loves her family, her friends, and you. Yes, you.
** I hope to have PLENTY MORE YEARS before the subject of my epitaph ever comes up.

This is just like the time that I started the 30 day shred, except I think I only lasted for 3 days, but I'm sure this is better because I don't have to get up early and work out so maybe 30 days won't be so painful?

So this little pitiful space? Is my blog. And I love it. Really. But like any toy that you've had too long, I took it for granted...only pulling out to play when  I'm not on twitter , not playing on tumblr   I've worn out my other interweb time sucks.

Anyways, I decided to sign up for NaBloPoMo. Because I'm stupid , crazy , a glutton for punishment finding that I miss blogging. *cough*

If you take into consideration that I only posted once last month, 30 days is a whole lot of blogging. But to be fair, last month was my birthday (yes, the ENTIRE MONTH), and so I was busy doing birthday stuff: going to concerts, dressing up for Halloween, drinking because it was Wednesday, and generally doing whatever I wanted, which...apparently included pretending my blog did not exist.

But it DOES exist. And the reason that my blog has been languishing while I bullshit around the internet on twitter, or tumblr is because of PEOPLE I MET WHEN I BLOGGED. Ironic, isn't it?

Well. I'm changing all that. Because really? My life is still just as weird/fun/random as it was when I first started blogging. And I still want to share it with you.

Yeah, I'm TOTALLY gonna kick NaBloPoMo's ass.

And yes, this totally counts as a post.