Category: general

If you call me right now – and you should! Call me right now! – then I’d hear, ‘Lea-KKSSHHHHH-tha-KKSSHHHHH-on-KKSSHHHHH-righ-KKSSHHHHH.’ Because for some reason, which no one can ascertain, on incoming calls, there is hella amounts of static which makes it impossible for me to hear all the nice things you are saying about my hair. You, on the other hand, would hear only my melodious voice asking and then yelling, ‘Huh? What was that? WHAT?? I’ll call you right back. Hang on.’ And let me tell you, that does NOT get old. This does not apply to outgoing calls where the static is down by 2/3rds and I can, in fact, hear you compliment my hiney in these jeans with just a few KKSSHHHHHs mixed in.

I was the first one to try and fix my phone. I looked at it. Studied it. Shook it a little from side to side. Turned it off and on. Looked at it really hard AGAIN and remarkably, nothing changed. Then Joe took a stab at it. He actually did things that seemed like they should work and sat on hold and then talked with customer service for 30 minutes while they walked him through all the things they could think of to do. Sadly, noting worked. During that process they had him reset the phone to factory settings which replaced all my rings and alarms and stuff, most of which I didn’t even realize I had customized, so now every time my phone rings I jump or don’t even realize it’s mine. Also? the number that is coded into the phone for auto-dialing my voice mail, yes, that would be my own cell phone number, is wrong. I called someone named Trish in San Diego, twice in 30 seconds, before I realized what was happening. I thought I had just missdialed, uh, hitting the number 1. Twice in a row. GOOD TIMES! (Sorry, Trish.)

When I took the phone into the local Sprint office, they couldn’t help me. They just SELL the phones there, silly. So they gave me directions to the Fix It Store. My guess – Sprint and Nextel combined to create phones that don’t work and office buildings far, far away from me.

I took it out to the Cell Phone Fixin’ store which is neither convenient or inviting and is placed in one of the worst looking abandoned areas I’ve seen since my small stint in Florida a million years ago. I’m not sure why I have to drive 30 miles out of my way to get my phone fixed, the one that I pay extra each month to insure for just this event. I have learned a few things since dropping my old phone in the toilet. But I feel inconvenienced and ornery. And the directions to the building were WRONG. So, that was fun calling and asking why they weren’t where they were supposed to be. The girl on the phone kind of giggled and said, ‘Ya, we need to fix that.’ Well, you don’t say.

In any case, they don’t sell or promote my phone anymore (I WONDER WHY RATHER LOUDLY IN MY HEAD) and they don’t make a newer model but they do have a very large stock pile somewhere sequestered in the US of A with which the are willing to keep replacing my phone for as long as needed. No matter how many times this happens. And they don’t know why it’s making the noises and why it’s worse when someone calls me, but they sure will replace my phone for ever and ever, amen. Only I have to go back out in a few days to get it since they can’t send it to me.

Also, since I know you want to know, there have been zero boxes packed. Yes, that’s right. Zero. And what is worse is that the panic hasn’t set in yet to make me move in a frenetic, buzzing manner and get things started. In my head? The entire house has been packed and moved about 6 times. In real life? Oh, right. The count was at ZERO BOXES.

Does anyone know how to move lovely, full and happy houseplants from one home to another without harming their long trailing vines?

The fridge is slowly dying. First, I noticed that stuff on the door wasn’t cold, the mustard and ketchup were far too fluid. Then came the smell and I noticed that the milk was almost warm. I suppose as someone that likes her milk with tiny ice clusters here and there, normally chilled milk would seem not cold enough, but believe me when I say the cold cereal was colder than the milk. Then, the light stopped working. Now, I realize that the light is probably not connected to whatever mechanism keeps the refrigerator cold, but it is a bit suspicious, no? And now, the things on the freezer door such as the OJ and the 8 Wendy’s cups of leftover Frosty* are barely not frozen. You can squeeze the sides and the stuff inside squishes without a second thought. I’m looking at the meat and the fish and thinking they are destined for the trash, as getting sick to my stomach happens easily enough to me with well-cooked food, let alone slightly bad meat.

This is all in conjunction with the drains upstairs suddenly not working well, the sprinkler system shooting off the tops of some of the sprinkler heads and flooding the neighbor’s yard and the carpet downstairs looking like ass due to our awesome ability to run the rented professional carpet cleaner. The lighter-colored stripe from the front door, through the living room and out to the back door by the kitchen looks like the pelt of a very large skunk. When the commercial tells you that you can just clean the ‘well-trafficked’ area of your home? Be smarter than we were. Clean the entire thing or 2 days later you’ll be very, very sorry.

*I only want 2 bites. Only 2. And then the rest of the Frosty goes in the freezer. I keep thinking one of the kids will eat the rest. But they don’t. I might need to rethink my strategy.

Apparently, the early presidents of the United States want me to buy cars, furniture and clothing. Lots of it. And all on Monday. Why are they hounding me? Why are they so materialistic? And here I thought it was all about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.