Yes, thank you very mu--- hello?

I've been spending a lot of time on the phone with PSE&G lately (our gas and electric folks for those of you outside the area) due to the obnoxiously high bill we received this month, which is nearly $400 HIGHER than what we already thought was an obnoxiously high (and incorrect) bill last month.  The situation is ongoing and probably won't be resolved for a while, but thankfully we have a landlord who understands that we didn't sign up to pay this much for utilities.

But what this means is that I've spent a lot of time talking to an automated voice.  "Does your last name begin with the letters B-O-T?"  "No."  "Please state your account number."

You know the drill.  Or I'm assuming you know the drill.  In fact, I assumed most people knew the drill until I came across my lunchtime companion yesterday.  He had his cell phone up so loud (as this sort of person usually does) so I could hear everything the automated system was saying.

System: Briefly, please state your problem.

Now, those of us familiar with these issues know that you give a one-to-three word answer here.

Him: Well, my washing machine isn't working right and it's making this funny noi--

System: *boooop* I'm sorry; I didn't understand.  Briefly, please state your problem.

Him: I SAID, my washing machine is making this noise and I don't kno--

System: *boooop* I'm sorry, I didn't understand.  Would you like to speak to a representative?

Him: Yes, that's what I'm trying to do so that would be very ni--

System: *boooop* I'm sorry, I didn't understand.  Would you like to speak to a representative?

Him: That's exactly what I'm trying to do, thank you ver--

System: *boooop* Please hold while we transfer you to a representative.

Him:  I don't understand why this is taking so long.

At this point I am nearly snarfing in my packed ziti lunch.  He proceeds to finally get a representative, at which point he proceeds to tell her he doesn't know anything about the problem, just that his wife asked him to call because the washing machine is making a chugga-chugga-chugga noise, but he thinks all machines make those noises depending on what you put in the mach---

And the representative kindly cuts him off to ask what kind of machine he has, to which he responds, "I don't know!  I just said, my wife is the one with the problem."

Oh indeed, sir, I do believe your wife certainly lives with a problem.

You can't have my band name.

I know I'm not the only one who goes through life randomly thinking, "That would make a great band name!" when certain phrases appear.

In college, my friend James had a package of pita bread spontaneously fall off a shelf.  He then declared that the new band name on his list was "Suicidal Pitas".  We still laugh about it, even though it's probably only funny to us.

If you're on Facebook, you know how it now randomly posts older pictures in the top right corner.  On the hubby's page, it recently posted a picture of me with my nephew, TJ (my sister's son), from my bridal shower.

The hubby saw the picture quickly and got confused.  "Wait, isn't that the bridal shower? Why is Nate there? Wait, that's not Nate..."

Nate and his cousin TJ look enough alike that at certain angles, a quick glance at pictures of them at the same age can be confusing (Nate's not quite 5 months old yet while TJ is now two and a half years old).

This isn't surprising, though, because the genes in my family are really strong.  All the boys look similar as babies - blond hair, blue eyes, big round cheeks, cute button nose.  Nate bucks the trend a bit with his brown hair, though (which I adore - what's more handsome than a man with brown hair and blue eyes?).

But I realized, then, that there was one exception: the ears.  Nate has the hubby's ears (so much so that it was laughable in the beginning, they're that identical) and my sister's kids have the ears from her husband's family.

So our genes are strong, except for the ears.  Those, it seems, are recessive.

And that is my new band name: Recessive Ears.

What verb do you shower?

The other day, someone I follow on Twitter said they were going to go "have a shower" which had that weird "Hm, that doesn't sound right to my ears" feeling, like the shower was equivalent to a sandwich (which I suppose is possible, depending on how many people you have in there, but that's a whole other blog post (and not mine)).  A friend of mine always says, "I'm going to get a shower" like her house came without one and she has to go purchase one daily.  I say, "I'm going to go take a shower" which obviously sounds fine to me but, now that I really think about it, sounds like I'm about to steal a shower from someone else's home, making me far worse than the friend who "gets" hers in a clearly more civilized, less forceful, brutal way.

Other times "I'm going to go hop in the shower" which must indicate a cheerier day than the ones in which I say I'm going "to go grab a shower" which kind of sounds like assault.

So how do you verb your shower? (Or bath. Don't want to be exclusionary here.)

Nearly Wordless Wednesday: my baby Burt Reynolds

Yesterday I posted a picture from Nate's three month professional photo session.  It's adorable, happy, and precious.

But there was also this one:

Tell me this one doesn't say, "Heyyyy ladies, wanna check out my crib?"  Tell me I'm not going to have to worry about his future dating life and I'll tell you that I ordered a print of this picture just so it can be the one that goes in his senior yearbook.

Welcome, the Ides of March

I once had a bad(ish)-but-in-a-funny-way Ides of March.  March 15th fell on a Saturday my junior year of college.  The details now are a bit hazy (as some of that time period is) but basically I left a party early because I had to get up for work at 7am on Sunday (I worked at a drugstore), only to be woken by a dorm fire alarm at 3am, still feeling the effects of the party I had been at earlier.  (NB: If you didn't go away to college, you have to imagine that middle of the night fire alarms are a common, but still annoying occurrence.  You get up, in your pajamas, wrap yourself in your blanket, and go stand outside, all bleary, with your friends until someone tells you that you can go back in.  On a night like this, you'd spend the time outside convincing your friend, no, you cannot go back to the party; you need to sleep for work.)

Then, after work the following day, I typed out the whole funny story for friends - except I ended up mistyping one of their email addresses and sent the whole tale to a very staid and nerdy classmate, who wrote back to let me know and thanking me for the laugh.  I avoided her for a week.  (Or more than I usually did.  She was the type of nerdy that looked like it didn't shower regularly, not the cool kind of nerdy.)

Okay, so anyway, it wasn't a terrible Ides of March.  But, you know, having to get up at 7am because you have to walk two miles to work by 8:30am on a Sunday as a college student is bad, period.  It was for me, anyway.  The cheery part was that Mike (best friend and thrower of said party I left early) got up early and drove me to work (and picked me up and took me out for coffee after my shift ended).  He's always been a great guy.

So I never fear the Ides of March - if anything, it makes me look for the funny little things that go wrong.  So far today has been fine.  The only issue has been someone practicing their drumming on the other side of the wall of the library/tutoring center I work at.  Yes, seriously - drumming.  I called to complain and they said it must be the Verizon guy doing work.  I told them that he should be complimented on the rhythmical nature of his work as well as his excellent cymbal use, then.

I know drumming when I hear it, people.  1 - I've been to a zillion concerts.  2 - My brother-in-law is a drummer.  3 - Who doesn't know the difference between drumming and telecom work????

Thanks, Ides of March, for that frustrating chuckle.

But a stranger today gave me an odd look when I told him I've been driving for almost 20 years.  He said, "You cannot be older than 24 or 25."  "34, actually - so, driving 17 years."  "I would never think that.  Good for you!"  So, Ides, seriously thanks for that.  Feeling young and springy now.