I HATE Chase Bank and Credit Cards!!!

I'm sure my recent experience is not that atypical of most banks and credit card issuers, but I must admit they definitely try my patience. After being charged $51 for late payment fees after having the customer service representative ADMIT they did not draw the bank transfer as indicated on the due date, I am completely dumbfounded when they claimed they could not reverse the charges. After three days of frustrating calls, and having them treat me like a kindergartener by explaining to me what interest is, and how it's calculated, I decided to pay off the balance and cancel my card. Unbeknownst to me, I realized that they still miscalculated the final balance (after just checking my account online), and still show me as being liable for $2.76! After another incredible call with a poorly trained senior citizen, know-it-all, who is trying again to explain to me why I would be charged because of the time value of money, completely forgeting my point in that the charge is erroneous. In fact, several times I attempted to interrupt the bastard, named Garrett (who refused to provide his last name or his manager, I might add) but he continued to ignore my pleas to listen and instead berated me for closing the account. Finally, after this idiot's tirade, he explains that he will, as a courtesy no less, waive the fee, but discovers that I have closed the account, and then refuses to do so since I apparently have not been very loyal to Chase. To which I request to be passed on to his manager. His response this time is okay, but he will have to put me on hold. After an inordinate amount of time, he claims that his boss is still busy, but I can wait. I will say that after a slight pause, he didn't have time to interrupt me this time as I told him to shove his headset up his fat hairy. . .

Cold as Ice T

I seem to recall having an inane (insane?) conversation with a curvy blonde one day over wind chill. She somehow managed to get me to think about wind chill, and whether metal or cars would "feel" wind chill. So when the temperature dropped down below freezing and forecasters are shouting out the wind chill factor, do inanimate objects actually feel the actual temperature or the much colder wind chill factor? I immediately tried to explain to her that objects do not "feel" wind chill, but only we do because we can sense the wind against our pores. To which she asked if dogs can feel wind chill? I suddenly realized why I was so attracted to her and completely recognized the value that she brought to this relationship. Nuff Said.

Do You Have Jumper Cables?

If the answer to the above question is yes, these are five words that you just plain don't want to hear. As a young pup I made the "smart" decision to invest in a set of jumper cables. I've never used them. On my car, that is.

Funny thing about jumper cables - people don't seem to need them on a sunny day with a temperature in the 80's. Or 60's. Or 40's, 3o's or even 20's. Watch the mercury fall below 0 though - then the fun starts. That's when you'll hear the dreaded question. Regrettably, I never found it within me to lie and answer "no". I finally had to resort to completely removing this evil accessory from the trunk of my car.

If you ever feel the need to purchase jumper cables, take my advice. Use the money to join a motor club instead. Trust me, it'll be well worth the extra money - even if you never do use it.

Beauty is relative

No this is not about your voluptuous cousin, you freakazoid! I would like to make an observation about attractive women. Now, I won't get soft and talk about "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" and overused cliches, but wanted to share a thought as I sit in my high tech department full of overweight, overlooked, overdone, over-aged, and over the top females. Of course, you would say, they may not be attractive because the industry doesn't attract that type of person. Instead, we are beset with horn rimmed glass bearing, "techy types" littering the floors. The majority sex of our staff is male, and no doubt, very little sex occurs in this group, at least if another party is involved (who doesn't have a tail, that is).

Now you may ask, why do I bring this topic up on an innocent Friday night? Well, I suddenly realized as I drove home that it is relative. After spending an inordinate amount of time in this environment, I realized that the flirtatious geek who is constantly in the copy room is not that unattractive. Sure, not exactly the complement that one of the opposite sex would like to hear, but hear me out. Compared to the other females in the department, she's not bad. However, she definitely no Heather Locklear, nor even a Katie Couric, but compared to some of the smelly Roseanne Barr type beasts around here, she's beginning to look awful. . . appealing. Again, it's all relative. If I were in Atlanta, Georgia or San Antonio, Texas, I would say that Britney Spears would not garner a second look.

The Next Cool Thing

I'm just not impressed with my microwave oven anymore. At one time it may have been a miracle to dive into a burrito only two minutes after it left the freezer, but now - that is just so last century.

Microwave ovens have been commonplace for thirty years or more. What I can't figure out is why hasn't anyone applied this same kind of thinking to the refrigerator. Say, for example, that I've just arrived home from 7-Eleven with a frozen burrito and a six-pack of Coke. (Editor's note: if this were a true story, I would have grabbed a cold coke from the cooler but that would render this example meaningless.) Once I place my burrito in the microwave, I discover that my ice tray is empty; so there I am, moments later, with a hot burrito and a warm coke. I hate warm coke.

This is where we need a microwave refrigerator. Something I can place my warm coke in only to have it ice cold in just two minutes. I can't believe this isn't on the shelves at Best Buy yet. Just wait, one day I'll seem like a visionary.

One of the Good Blogs

Now that the presidential election season is in full swing, political commentary is everywhere: TV, radio, newspapers, magazines and on and on. Each of these bastions of information dissemination are naturally serious journalistic enterprises. Often times, as I listen to or read what these journalists have to say there are dismissive (or derisive) references to "bloggers" and their uninformed non-journalistic opinions that apparently diminish the election process. "Don't believe everything you read on the Internet!"

Fortunately for us, there is no way in the world anyone could possibly take our blog seriously. Yes, we may be embarassed by it's content (and to our knowledge we still are unread by anyone who knows who we are) but at least we can take comfort that our blog is not among those that are so reviled by the political press. Of course, this is not to suggest that these true "journalists" would actually approve of our blog - there's just no danger of us infringing upon their territory.

Germain to the conversation

In recent years, I have become more of a germ-a-phobe. Right around the time I had heard that Howard Hughes, the richest man in the world - pre-Gates, had this weird, eccentric concern over germs. Not that I would compare to this wealthy weirdo, but I think he was ahead of his time. I think about all these anti-resistant bacteria that is permeating the world, and how our antibiotics would one day be powerless in the face of these super-beings. That is why I chose to grip the door handle with my right pinky and then carefully place it in my pocket as I rub on some Purell hidden securely in the inner reaches of my pocket so as to not bring attention to my sudden fear of those insidious germs.

Often, I am the one who will be running to the rest room to wash my hands after shaking hands with a stranger. I will not hesitate to use paper towels to touch the faucet handles rather than risk the touch of some errant stranger who may not be as careful as me. Would it be appropriate to purchase a plastic bag in order to venture out into this strange, strained world?

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year! I must have heard that a half dozen times this morning. I used to think it was a simple exclamation good for only a few minutes after the clock struck midnight on December 31. Boy, was I wrong.

Last Friday, the drive-thru attendant at a local Wendy's wished me a happy new year as she handed me my son's dinner. This morning, six or so people greeted me that same way in rapid succession. Maybe I'm old fashioned, but I figure that once the calendar shows January 2nd, we're back at "good morning" or "how you doing" rather than continuing to throw out that "happy new year" line.

Not that I'm complaining, per se. My response to the first and second greetings this morning was simply to repeat those very same words - happy new year. But I felt awkward. The next couple of greeters received a "same to you" in response. I think I then descended to "you to" or some such dismissive reply. Fortunately the greetings stopped before I dove further into "back at you" or "happy new year, my ass!".

I suppose I just need to give in to the popular lexicon and bring out the seasonal greetings myself. Let me be the first to wish you and yours a happy Martin Luther King, Jr. day!