30 June 2008

Camden, bitches

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"I'm not talking to you anymore."
-- Todd van Horne, Mile 11.9 of Virginia
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Not factory installed equipment

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Day 2

Words. They escape me. Damn. It's early. Again.
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27 June 2008

It's not 9 yet and my parents have already told 5 strangers i'm moving to new York.
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23 June 2008

The Rolling Stones Song of the Week

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I'm a little concerned they have these preprinted.

My Last Tank of Gas Ever

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Also? I'm not alone.

22 June 2008

19 June 2008

Seriously

I see one more person flip someone off with their kid in the car and I get up to ramming speed.
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17 June 2008

I said I'd do this, and I am

The graphical representation of me, right now:
I saw someone once (and if you're reading this, it isn't you) have something happen in their life that would have (at the time) made me really, really happy. And this person was pretty blah about it all. Actually, they were kind of dickish. And I said at the time, if something like that ever happened to me, I would be ... and the only thing that popped in my head was Jordan holding his trophy.

It's even better than getting a Billy Ripken Fuck Face card.

Look, I can get too emotional. I sometimes wear my heart on my sleeve. I've noticed this. And I've been trying real hard to even things out. And, I've been holding back on my excitement a little on this whole New York thing. Until ... well, until I had a New York address.

I have some work to do. And, if you want a sectional couch, a washer, a dryer or a garage full of crap, we need to talk. But, I feel like hugging a trophy.

To quote former Texas football coach, Fred Akers, "Get out the wide angle lenses, boys. I'm getting ready to smile."

My bank is trying to protect me

Trying too hard. And, like my mother, I'm not sure what they're so afraid of.

So, you might have noticed I am trying to get a place in New York. I'm at Kinko's, filling out all the paper work before faxing it to my broker on Sunday night. When, I get to the section asking for checking and savings account info. Oops. I'm notorious for not knowing my checking account number. Also, the application needs my bank's address.

My bank is Wells Fargo ... the largest gobbler of banks west of the Mississippi. I don't exactly have their street address ... for any of their divisions. I swear I have sent checks to about four different states to pay various arms of Wells Fargo in the eight years we've been together.

So, I call customer service from the fax machine.

I give them my name, address and check card number.

"Sir, I can't give out account numbers over the phone."

So, let me get this straight. Whoever I might be, I have a check card number. Can't you do more damage with someone's check card number than with someone's checking account number? What - exactly - in this instance, is this policy protecting someone from? In any event, isn't the damage level about the same? I mean, end result, someone can drain the bank account.

So, then, I ask the guy if he can give me the Wells Fargo address for account verification.

"11203 ..."

"Wow," I think to myself. "That's how my address starts off ... Wait. This bozo is giving me my own address."

So, they won't give out redundant ways to cause harm. But they will give out your PHYSICAL ADDRESS TO ANYONE WITH YOUR CHECK CARD. Brilliant. Utterly brilliant. I'm soooooo protected. From everyone except serial killers and thieves.

Eventually, the guy says he guesses the best address would be the branch I opened my account at all those years ago. Fine.

So, in order to find my account numbers, I log on to wellsfargo.com from one of Kinko's blatantly, glaringly unsecure computers and download the pdf of my bank statement so as to procure my account numbers.

Yeah. That felt real fucking safe. Thanks, Wells Fargo. Law of Unintended Consequences and shit.

Then I left said Kinko's with my check card still in the fax machine. Oops. This is what happens, Wells Fargo, when you don't just give me the freaking account numbers. I muster up all my concentration to smite you and end up unsecuring myself more than if you had just done it for me.

So, this morning, I needed to get some cash into a certain someone's account so she can write checks to get me in my apartment. I wheel up to my neighborhood Wells Fargo to get a certified check. It is 8:30. The Lobby opens at 9. The drive thru has been open since 7:30. I pull up and ask for a cashier's check.

"We can only do those in the Lobby."

"Well, hell." I drive off. Wait. Surely they won't just hand me $550 in cash through the Drive Thru, will they? I take a lap.

"So, if I can't get a cashier's check, will cash post immediately in her account?"

"Yes."

"And I can get $550 right now?"

"Yes."

"Do it."

Lose the certified check? Only a certain someone can do anything with it. Lose eleven $20 bills? Anyone can do anything with it. Maybe even get a half a tank of gas out of it. So, basically, I'm being protected from a more secure transaction by this policy of yours, Wells Fargo. That seems well thought out.

Just wow.

16 June 2008

The Rolling Stones Song of the Week



Hey! I was here for this! In the second row!

15 June 2008

The could be new world headquarters for howthefdidigethere.blogspot.com


















OK, I don't have keys yet ... or an application in ... or a deposit down ...

Anyway, maybe I should just call this a place I could live.

Whatever. Don't be a killjoy. No one likes that shit.

12 June 2008

What a country

So I'm perusing majorleaguebaseball.com for one of those "I love New York, it's the Yankees I hate." t-shirts. (They don't seem to have any.)

When I spy with my little eye this, in honor of next month's All Star game at Yankee Stadium, this lovely thing:

OK. That's not tooo tacky.

And, of course, you'd expect something like this:

And, Major League Baseball never being one to turn down a buck, you get this, too:

(You're right. Lady Liberty does look like Joe Borowski in drag.)

However, what I find a bit odd is this one:

Did we actually annex Canada when I wasn't looking?

11 June 2008

FUCK

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10 June 2008

Progress

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08 June 2008

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06 June 2008

The First Ever (and maybe only) U2 Song of the Week

HOLY SHIT. I've done it. I did it. I'm doing it. I have to do it. I'll do it.

Hello there, New York. How are you? Come here often? Me? Oh, I live around here. What do I do for fun? Well, for about the last year, I've been trying to get here ... even when I was aiming for other heres. But I am now openly accepting applications for new hobbies. I've got the time, now. Say, have you ever heard of Sweet Leaf Tea? What about Tito's Handmade Vodka?

Oh, you look so beautiful tonight.

What I Learned This Week

I need to be more specific with what I want. For example: I really, really want this job on this team at this agency. Well, that kind of leaves a key aspect out. A really important aspect. Like being able to afford food.

Unfortunately, this week, I'm learning zen and the art of salary negotiation.

Also, I learned that I'm moving to New York.

05 June 2008

I think I'm done here

I swear to God over lunch, on 101x, I actually heard the following:

My son has never heard the song Detachable Penis. Can you play it for him?

03 June 2008

Life imitating the Office

I once - very briefly - dated a woman who had never had a real job. She had worked a retail gig less than one whole pay period. But she had never been in an office building. She was fascinated by actual, real office life and used to ask me questions all the time. "What do you do when you have to go to the bathroom?" being among my favorite. "Bathroom?" I replied with a quizzical look.

She was, however, convinced the Office was just over the top and not grounded in any sort of reality.

Yeah, I've never stolen a co-worker's stapler and embedded it in Jell-O (yet). But I just kept feeling like today has been a string of incidents happening to me - maybe not straight out of an Office episode - but what would happen if FOX tried to rip off the show. Directly.

For example, I didn't quite grossly insubordinate my boss by asking him when he interrupted my Soduku solving in a meeting "Did I stutter?" like Stanley did to Michael. But when the President's Daughter asked "Why can't we go look up these 47 addresses?" I did reply "Why can't YOU go look up these 47 addresses?" The effect was eerily similar. The air left the room and the daughter and I had a staring contest.

Also, while I didn't burn my feet in the George Foreman grill at the foot of my bed a la Michael (though I do enjoy waking up to the smell of frying bacon) I did burn the roof of my mouth on some molten pizza last night, and I am walking with a limp because my hip hurts.

I didn't start a fire in the office when I put a Cheezy Pita in the toaster ... I did cause quite a bit of smoke when I stupidly put a bagel in the toaster on the bagel setting. Case in point ...


And, while I didn't, like Dwight, go to New York and back in a day ... wait. That's tomorrow.

01 June 2008

Hmm

I just started a load of laundry and opened a new bottle of bleach. Now, I get the push down while turning child proof lid. Because, you know, bleach is a hazardous chemical.

What I don't get is the safety seal under the childproof lid. What, exactly, should I be concerned that my bleach has been spiked with? Tylenol? Milk? A really, really hazardous chemical?

What has our society become?

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