Classic rock! Without you the other genres
wouldn't exist! You are the raw and original
sound of rock! Other genres may try to imitate
your rawness, but they can never be like you!
What genre of rock are you?
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So yesterday I'm out and about doing some shopping between naps and I go to use my checkcard and am told it expired. I have two check cards, they are within two months of each other (there's a good reason for this involving the bank, and the ability to cancel the wrong card even when I'm sitting there saying, "NOT THAT ONE, YOU FOOLS!"). I got a new one a few weeks ago, that looked like my personal account. I activated it, cut up the old one and continued along my merry way. Flash foward to yesterday and the panic of "what if I've been using the wrong card." Yes, I verified the numbers, but, but, but, I've been wrong before. So this morning on my way to the doctor's, I stop off at the ATM and verify that the card I have is for the account I think it should be for. Then I call the bank.
I explain that I'm missing a card and we go through like 80 forms of verification. Then she explains that a card was sent to my address two months ago. I explain that I never doubted that they sent it, but I never got it. Through the entire conversation she's insisting they sent it and making me feel like it's somehow my fault that I don't have it. And she's like "I can reissue this, but we already sent it once. Let me verify your address?"
"I'm happy to verify the address. Can we verify the name too, because when I first got my personal card, it had the wrong name."
She admits that she does have a notation to that effect, but nothing on the other card. Duh. I wonder why? Do you think it might be because I never received it? No, no, couldn't be that because they sent it.
And through it all, I'm just sweet as pie, saying, "Thank you. I really appreciate it. I'm sorry, but I never received it. I appreciate your help. Thank you so much." I frigging hate you people.
(mmmm, Robert brought me cookies!)
So I arrive at the doctor's office. The doc and I walk in at the same time. Which would be great if I weren't her second appointment of the day. So there's another 20 minutes right there. I get to work around 10. Oh, and she's giving me a new drug, Zomax? I think.
And for those of you patient souls, I should tell you that Blinky's gift was a Mel Blanc book, Daffy Duck for President. He was excited about it until he realized that he wouldn't be getting any food. Tough crowd.
So I decide it would be bad to run off with Jill for lunch after getting in late, so I eat with The Usual Suspects [TM]. Post eating, Rich stops by to as me if I will help him fetch his car. I agree with alacrity and off we go. So while he's in my car, he says, "Your inspection sticker's expired."
"No it hasn't. I have an alarm in my palm that always reminds me to go. I went in January."
"Yeah, of last year."
Damnit. So I drop Rich off at his car and continue down the street to my favorite local gas station and inspection joint. Ted is there, as he always is when there's inspecting to be done and there's a woman in line in front of me. I ask her if she knows how long the wait is and she's got not a frigging clue. She's just going to sit there in her soccer mom mini van until something magically happens. So I sneak it and ask Ted what's he's running. He tells me barring unforseen trouble with the soccer mom nymphette, 15 minutes. So I report back to her that he thinks he'll be done with her by 15 minutes and go back around the front to get gas. While I'm getting gas, this woman pulls up for directions. The gas attendant confirms his directions with the boys in back and sends her on her way. Then he starts telling me that he doesn't mind giving directions to people who speak English, but he has a real issue with giving people directions when they don't. (WTF???) Then he launches into this boring story about how this guy who didn't speak English asked for directions and the attendant gave them like this "You drive downo the streeto..."
It's another one of those cases where you'd rather people wonder why don't speak than wonder why you do.
Anyway, after that charming experience, I float back around to the back, where Microvan Nymphette is being worked on. Then this guy backs a truck up to this boat and starts hitching it up. Ted finally gets around to my car which needs two new rear lights. He also gives me some suggestions on how to fix my passenger side mirror. (For less than the three hundred dollars the dealership offered to do it for) And we're trading war stories. I tell him about my concussion. He tells me about the time he electricuted himself and the time his buddies pulled a ladder out from under him and dropped him 18 feet. Good times.
And then I go back to the office, and call the insurance company. I need to fax the appraisal for the earrings to their office and they'll add a rider to the policy. I'll do that Monday maybe, or Sunday.