And then that happened

Hi there! I wouldn't dust off this thing except that it was hugged out of me by CMGD, a SAHM (not to be confused with SARS) who recently turned a new age (the pretty one). We celebrated her decrepitude over tortillas, which was nice. There's nothing much new to report here. I am now unemployed, my lower left leg is discolored and bleeds a lot, I'm in the process of discarding my possessions so I can move to Seattle (aka Bunnyland), I drive a white '95 Taurus, I'm in love with a Wiffle Hutt waitress who looks like Julia Stiles without the bitchy overtones, my eyesight is fading, I like 90's sitcoms, and I have trouble stringing two coherent sentences together. Why don't fish have beanbag furniture? A pizza. And which is better: bouncy or boingy? Also, I no longer personally hate every person alive.

And here is Tracy's web site because I can't count the three times people have asked me for it recently: http://www.kaplyinc.com/

Work Be Busy

Which is why I haven't posted or bunnied much recently. I did manage to escape just long enough today to have my prescription sunglasses repaired for the fourth time, which means I get to actually see stuff while I'm driving. It's a nice change of pace.

In an unrelated note, Atlanta apparently just removed a lot of random speed bumps from my route to and from work. They were the annoying kind too - programmed to scream and shout things like "You bastard - I'll sue!" Plus they left a lot of sticky red paint on my car's undercarriage. Good thing I bought the red one.

The Awesomeness That Is My Life

The benefactors holding the title of my shiny new car didn't send me a payment book, just a letter welcoming me to the fold and telling me of the many wonderful ways I can pay them back, most of which involve getting on the phone with their sales people. I hate talking on the phone, especially talking to sales or customer service, so I chose the option to enroll and pay via eft online. On Sunday I tried and was told the site was down for maintenance. Last night I tried again and was told my personal information was wrong. (excuse me, I think I know my date of birth better than you) I called their help line figuring it was run 24/7 out of India since no hours were listed, tried their automated menu to no avail, attempted to speak to a human, and was told I had to call during Texas business hours (but not what those hours were). At least that promised the chance of reaching a fellow American who presumably spoke proper English. "Howdy, y'all. Whut can I dew ye fur tuhday?" So today I called, was connected to "Amy" with an unmistakable Indian accent, and then...AND THEN...

She took my information, identified and fixed the problem immediately, and even volunteered to stay on the line until I completed registration to ensure no further issues arose. My next course of action is clear - I have to complain to her supervisor. I wonder if their online complaint form includes "Failure to provide blog fodder" as a selection? "I contacted your so-called customer service department today, and was given absolutely nothing to complain about. What are you people thinking? Maybe it's in your improper language skills. Your department obviously doesn't understand concepts such as 'incompetence', 'willful neglect', and 'fiduciary misconduct'. Your pitiful country will never rise to the grandeur that is the United States until you do, and you will all be forced to live in squalor or marry a pudgy white blob of American man-flesh to escape it. Speaking of which, please give my e-mail address to 'Amy' because she sounded cute. And now let's practice some of that proper English - 'I'm a-fixin' to have a-hankerin' for some deep-fried pig intestines, y'all.'"

A Poem

In honor of labor day, on which I have to work, I wrote a Seussian epic ballad sonnet haiku in iambic pentameter:

Shiny new car! Shiny new car!
Bunnybunnybunnybunnybunnybunnybunny!!!

Oh, crap. New car is dirty already.
I guess I'll trade it for this:

Today's post is just to remind you I have a shiny new car

I've only worked for my employer for about ten years, but in that short time I've learned that you can't get into any of their buildings or parking lots without proper ID. Sadly, some veteran colleagues never internalize that fact. I'm often late to the office because I get stuck behind a line of cars trying to solve the riddle of the sphinx, by which I mean get the flimsy wooden barrier thingy to rise. This is apparently a daunting task despite the signs by the roadside that warn you to have your ID ready, the sign at the gate that says to badge in, and (I repeat) the fact every location requires you to have your work ID available at all times.

Several times I have been stuck in the street as a car sits and waits for the gate to decide to open itself (with only over a half million employees worldwide, it's reasonable to assume security will recognize everyone on sight), then out of boredom the driver reads the plethora of signs explaining how the gate isn't judging you but the card reader needs your ID badge, then they put the car in park and go to the trunk to dig their ID out of their rolling luggage (despite the computers and e-mail and electricity and bathrooms and cafeteria and stuff, many people can't survive in cubeland for eight hours without enough equipment to hunt and skin buffalo). Because it would be indecorous to use any of the outside pockets, their ID is invariably buried deep inside the luggage because, despite the warnings and years of service, they had no idea they would be asked to show their ID again. They just did that yesterday, for chrissakes. And then, finally, the car is through, free to take one of the last good parking spaces* while the next car pulls up and (get this) REPEATS THE ENTIRE PROCESS.

Unfortunately, I am not making that up.

So this week, some idiot pulls up to the security gate and, to the casual observer, appears to be just sitting there looking down and doing nothing more productive than masturbating while he holds up the line, and to make matters worse that idiot is me because I'm still learning how to work my shiny new car.
Granted, I don't take as long as the people who have to unpack before entering, but I still feel embarrassed when I'm unable to roll the window down on approach and I end up fumbling with the window button only to realize that I just readjusted the mirrors and so then I hit the window button and the window doesn't roll down because my shiny new car is ALREADY BROKEN and so I look closely to ensure I'm using the right button and then I press some other buttons and discover one of my earlier attempts activated the button to lock the windows in place (relief) and then I get back to the right button but I push it the wrong way because a lot of stuff in my shiny new car works the opposite of the old one.

But no longer. Today I actually managed to have the window down by the time I made it to the gate. At first I didn't know where stuff was. Then I progressed to knowing where it was, but trying to use it like the old way. Then I remembered to do it backwards, and that worked for about twelve seconds. Then I began to both remember the right way and remind myself to do it the other way, so I did it wrong again. But today I remembered the right way, reminded myself to do it the other way, then remembered that that didn't work and decided to do it the opposite of the opposite way, and so IN YOUR FACE - VICTORY IS MINE the window came down. I dub myself Bunnycus, Slayer of Giants, Bringer of Doom, Roller-Down of Windows.

Yes, of course that was an electric window. I couldn't have managed all that AND had to manually operate it at the same time. I'm not Jesus or Batman, you know. And now, loins properly girded, I shall go forth and attempt to put gasoline in my shiny new car.

* in this part of the country and this time of year, good parking space = under a shade tree. It has no relation to the distance required to walk to the building.

New Letter from Old Friends

Dear Mr. Grant,

Thank you for the opportunity to inflict pain and injury on you in the name of healthcare in June of 2009. If you thought you were through paying us for what we did to for you, then HA HA HA HA HA moron. You will never be rid of us. And don't think we didn't notice that you tossed a law bunny in our path. We simply don't care. You think the American legal system can stop us? They only affect ethical businesses like banks, credit companies, and debt collectors. If you think the doctors believe themselves gods, consider this: they only affect whether you die or accidentally survive. We will control the tone of your remaining time on Earth, and your file has been flagged "Unending Torment". Following is a brief list (by no means complete) of things that will stop long before us:

1. The Terminator
2. Irresistible Force
3. Perpetual Motion
4. Hello Kitty
5. God
6. Infinity
   

Our records indicate you recently bought a new car (nice pick, btw), so surely you can afford to give us a little more money. We're only asking for slightly more than a monthly car payment, and if you pay this bill we promise we'll never bother you aga- A HA HA HA okay I couldn't type that and keep a straight face. But anyway - pay us. The sooner you pay this bill, the sooner we can all move on, by which I mean to your next bill.

And, no, your failing eyes do not deceive you. We are re-billing for work for which you've already paid. It's just that we thought about it long and hard for a couple of seconds and decided that we want to be paid more than logic / decency / your insurance plan would dictate. Sick people don't deserve their money anyway. Besides, we are combating the encroachment of socialism upon our great society. We don't support that commie claptrap of "from each according to his ability, to each according to his need". We believe in "from each however he can get it, to us". People like you are ruining our freedom. So pay us, and keep America strong. Or we'll shoot you.

Yours in Christ,

your pals at Deathstar Healthcare, Billing, and Anal Rape, unlimited

I'm probably a cheap date also

When I bought my awesome new car, hereafter dubbed the Bunnytroller, I was happy to get the salesman that I did - helpful and personable, but not trying to sell me a bunch of junk I didn't want. He asked what I wanted, which was basically a station wagon that's not called a station wagon, not too small and sits up higher than a regular car, which lead us straight to the RAV4. That experience is the complete opposite of the first dealer I ever visited. I went to Hyundai, a brand new to our shores, and asked to see something cheap with air conditioning and a cassette player. The salesman was adamant that I look at this one lonely car sitting that he insisted was perfect for me - a tiny red piece of crap with black vinyl interior and no a/c. In Texas. In July.

Question - why do you think a tiny car from Korea, a country not associated with car production at that time, with no a/c and black vinyl interior would fail to sell in the Jesus-intensive republic of Texas in July? Was it maybe infested with robot ninja monkey mice? Discuss.

So, I didn't buy a Hyundai in '91. This time when I went to get a Toyota, the sales guy asked what sort of amenities I wanted - Bluetooth, leather, moon roof, heated seats, nav-system, etc. I asked for a cloth interior, CD player, and a/c. "Base model," he said. Apparently I'm easily satisfied. They had a sport model without the spare tire on the rear, but I actually think that adds to the appearance. Leather makes me sweat and is hot in the summer and cold in the winter. I don't have or want a Bluetooth. Nav-system sounds neat, but I rarely travel and I can already find work, the grocery, the library, and home. I don't see the appeal of (or know the difference between) a sun and/or moon roof, but I bought a car so I could be shielded from the environment (read: heat, light, bugs, humidity, and stench) and I have no desire to add ways to let in outside air. I sat on heated seats once, and the feeling of warmth spreading from my anus to my butt cheeks left me with the feeling that I was soiling myself. I will pay extra not to endure that. I wonder, if I pay them an extra grand, will the dealership offer to remove the a/c and punch holes in the body?

I just said all that to remind you that I have a new car and you don't.

Why I am awesomer than you

Yesterday I got rid of my eight year old car and replaced it with a shiny, new, bunny-friendly RAV4. The salesman took a picture of me in it:
If you've felt the pinch of the economy and are unable to drive a nice new vehicle like me, then allow me to say HA HA HA ON YOU FUCKERS! Of course, if you have a better vehicle than me, then I'm still better than you because I don't define myself by my possessions, even though I could because I have a really big TV and a new car and my new computer can play Dragon Age while web surfing and my apartment is full of booze and a/c. Oh, and I have thousands left in the bank. You can have access to all that is mine if you are a hot Asian woman and are willing to pretend that you like me, which is of course a euphemism for anal sex.

I got a good deal except for the interest rate, which was 11.7%. I haven't bought anything on credit since filing for bankruptcy, so they were a little hesitant to be the first to help re-establish my credit. They wouldn't budge off the interest rate, but they did lower the price of the vehicle and give me way more than expected on the trade-in (nearly $6k on a car the Blue Book values at about $1,800). Besides, I plan to have it paid off in two years anyway, unless I score an Asian girlfriend and get sucked dry.

And speaking of bankruptcy, it's time to write another letter to the lousy hospital I haven't seen in over a year because they created yet another new bill for me. The main reason I filed for bankruptcy was to stop the hospitals from further bothering me. Apparently, this is not enough to stop the bad ones from pestering you for the rest of your life. They've sent me bills long after the courts told them to desist, then sent the bills to collections, then sent them to another collection agency after the first one refused to try to collect, but at least they've stopped short of reporting the newer bills to a credit agency. And before you advise me to sue them for millions, I think the view that the poor hospitals are under siege by the mean old public is not entirely accurate, based on the number of lawyers (0) vying for my business.

For added fun, I lost my work badge during the move between vehicles. This would be the perfect time to lose my job. I hope the gods of irony are not in ascension, or at least that Satan remembers that He owes me a solid.

There may have been a point to this post, but I lost it while typing three to five words at a time at work.