I'm pretty sure they didn't use a lot of deoderent back then. So the Scent of Jesus probably wasn't so good.
This idea really grosses me out.
The interview has been delayed due to (shocker!) an error on the part of Bob's Hogs' HR. The Associate Director of of Everything Ensie Currently Does As Well Everything Ensie Would Do In Seattle did not receive my resume.
The HR guy (who apparently screws up everything) had the day off, as well as my resume held hostage in his files.
On the up side, the Regional Director of Everything Ensie Would Do In Seattle called to tell me what areas to focus on during the interview. The end of our call went something like this:
RDEEWDIS: "Good luck! Sara [the District Manager] and I really like you. I probably shouldn't have made this phone call. Good luck! Bye!
This has got to be a sign.
After dealing with Young America and T-Mobile the other day, I figured I'd have an uphill battle when I actually got ahold of one of them in person on the phone. Not so. They were surprisingly helpful once we figured out what the problem was.
It turns out that the entire problem stems from Jorge F. Jorge is a high school student working at some crappy mall kiosk selling phone. When we decided to uprade Frinklin's phone on February when his original one-year contract was up, we decided to go to that crappy mall kiosk to do our upgrading. That was obviously a mistake.
Jorge was helpful at the time, and I certainly trusted him, however, he really fucked everything up. While pondering the phone upgrade Jorge informed me that although the phone we wanted was usually $200, they would knock off $50 automatically, making it's cost only $150. Then, we would receive a $100 upgrade rebate, making the phone only $50. After that, we would finally get a $25 credit on the T-Mobile bill, which would show up within a couple of months. We decided to go for it, after all it's a $200 phone for only $25. We had to pay $150 up front, and Jorge helped us fill out the rebate paperwork.
Upon arriving home later that day, I finished the rebate paperwork and noticed that it stated that the rebate was only $50, not $100. I figured it must have been a hearing issue on my part, even though "fifty" and "one hundred" sound completely different. The required barcodes and receipts went into an envelope, and the envelope went off to be processed (please allow 8 - 10 weeks for processing).
Six weeks later I checked the T-Mobile website to view the status of my expected rebate. I got what I expected "Your rebate is still being processed." While on the website, I also verified the available upgrade rebates available at the time we got the new phone and lo and behold--we were eligibe for a $100 rebate! I e-mailed T-Mobile, asking why we had only been given the $50 rebate paperwork. The reply I received had some vague reasoning that the $50 rebate is the one we should have received, so stop complaining! We don't like you! Go away!" [italics added by me, obviously]
I continued to wait, patiently, for my $50. Instead, the letter rejection letter discussed in the previous post arrived. It took four phone calls, but Young America, at last, figured out the reason our rebate was kicked out of the system. It turns out Jorge had given me a "new account" rebate as opposed to the "upgrade" rebate. I also found out that the rebate should have been $100, another paperwork error of Jorge's. After much discussion, the ($100!) rebate request has been resubmitted and a check should be issued within four weeks.
In other "upgrade" feature news; I've left two messages with Jorge about the $25 credit we still haven't received. His supervisor has yet to called me back. I'm wondering if it's worth another round of phone calls and arguing...
I did it! I made it to the fourth interview for the job in Seattle with Bob's Hogs. I got a call this afternoon to schedule the fourth (and please, God, the last) interview with the Associate Director of Everything Ensie Currently Does As Well Everything Ensie Would Do In Seattle. It's scheduled for tomorrow at 11am PST.
The PST would be important, as I've had two other interviews scheduled, I get all freaked out, and then the interviewer doesn't call. I contact HR to find out what's up, and I find out that the interviews were accidentally scheduled for East Coast time.
Must remember to breathe tomorrow.
American Cities That Best Fit You:
|55% Las Vegas|
Wrong. I hate the South. I'm not a fan of overly cold winters. I loathe Florida. Las Vegas is literally hell on Earth for far too much of the year. Hawaii might be nice.
In fact, the whole household did, depite the propane leak. The stove spent some vacation time away from it's usual spot between the counters until this afternoon when The Boonies Propane Co. stopped by with the sniffer. The sniffer is cool. It's a handheld box that "smells" propane in the air. It emits a ticking sound while searching and an alarm when it finds gas.
Well, the sniffer didn't find anything. Not a trace of gas. The propane guy even tested it by turning on the stove's burners and showing that it did recognize propane when the burner was on. But there was no propane smell then, and still no propane smell now. No obvious leaks.
The stove went back to it's usual home and the propane guy advised us to just pay attention when we were in the kitchen, occasionally getting down on our hands and knees to smell the air near the floor, as propane is heavier than air. I feel much safer now. Thanks.
If I don't post in the next week you'll know our house exploded.
We have a propane leak right now in our house. It wasn't there when we got home at five, but by six we could smell it all over the kitchen.
I've turned off the propane to the house at the tank, opened all the windows, called my landlords to let them know what's going on, and, finally, called the propane company to come and assess the problem. I was hoping it would be quick and easy, but obviously the propane has gone to my brain, as nothing is every quick and easy with The Boonies Propane Company.
We have a 100 gallon propane tank that should be regularly filled with propane in order to make sure that we never run out. At least, that's what The Boonies Propane Co. told me when we moved in. Since then we've run out FIVE TIMES in three years. The fill schedule we are on coincides perfectly with the calendar, allowing us to be out of popane for each Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve. And if you think it's a pain in the ass to get ahold of The Boonies Propane Co. on Christmas Eve, you are totally right. I'm averaging 3 - 5 phone calls before I get anyone to take me seriously.
The first time we ran out was the first hosting of the Ensie/Frinklin joint Thanksgiving dinner in our new house, which shall henceforth be called "The Thanksgiving Day That Will Live In Infamy." It was horrible. There was no propane until late that afternoon so everything was late, the wind knocked out the power, my Dad and Uncle were in some sort of holy-roller mode and gave a 40 minute "blessing" complete with Abraham Lincoln quotes and something from the Bible about women being subservient to men. My Dad made my brother cry. My Dad made me cry. I told my Uncle that if he didn't stop harrassing me he was going to be booted from the house never to return. It all climaxed with me in a sobbing mess in the spare bedroom. Really, I think the whole bad day can be traced back to the lack of propane that morning that prevented showers and the early cooking I had planned on.
So, now, I sit. Waiting for the propane guy to rescue us. To relight our fires and allow for hot water once again. At least this time we didn't just run out like usual. We have an actual leakage issue to contend with.
Pray for me and hot showers please.
Update! Karl, the Boonies Propane Co. delivery driver showed up to help, sort of. Our stove is now four feet away from it's home and the propane has been shut off at the wall. There were three half-chewed dog bones nestling in the dust bunnies where the stove normally lives. The water heater pilot light is lit again (although we had to hear all about Karl's mishaps with the relighting of various pilot lights including the one where all Karl's hair "got fried clean off!") We will have hot showers in the morning. Hallelujah! I will be spending most of the day at home tomorrow, waiting for the "real propane guy" with the "sniffer" to help diagnose our propane problem further.
Me: Was the Koo-Aid Man wearing pants?
Frinklin: I believe that he was wearing pants.
Me: Why was the Kool-Aid Man wearing pants?
Frinklin: I don't know. He doesn't appear to have any sort of Kool-Aid genetalia.
Me: Thank God. Image that for a moment.
Bob's Hogs has decided that I am ready to move into the current century and has granted me a laptop computer with actual internet access at work.
Now that you've stopped laughing at the total lack of web access in a place we spend far too many hours in to be web-less, I will now announce that this means that I can now blog from work.
That's right. I can blog in real-time instead of having rely on my completely unreliable memory each day.
It arrives on Wednesday.
T-Mobile's rebate company, Young America (which by the way is just the lamest name EVER), sent me a letter today. It very politely informed me that "We regret that we are unable to process your request as received. The 10 digit T-Mobile wireless number you provided is not valid or found in our data base at this time your request was processed."
First off--"...at this time your request was processed." makes no sense.
But my real complaint is this--how can the number I provided not exist when this letter shows up the SAME DAY as the actual BILL from the company that holds the account? Shouldn't these two letters have caused some sort of time/space continuum error by sharing space in the same mailbox together? At the very least I think I shouldn't have to pay my bill since the number doesn't exist.
Elizabeth, the T-Mobile rep who helped me on the phone confirmed that I do, indeed, have an account with T-Mobile and I should contact Young America immediately so they can confirm it with T-Mobile via phone. However, Young America has annoyed me further by closing before my mail is even delivered. Now, after waiting 8 weeks for a rebate (and checking on it two weeks ago and being assurred that "It is in process") I must wait through the weekend to
vent my righteous anger upon discuss this issue further with a Young America customer service representative.
I attended a training meeting in another city today. The meeting was held inside another Bog's Hogs, located behind the Orange Curtain (Orange County, or "The O.C" if you're a big TV fan). Also present at the meeting were several staff members from other San Diego/Orange County stores and our District Manager.
Shortly after the meeting concluded, I began speaking with District Manager and a few other Bob's Hogs folk. As we spoke, our volume apparently increased so that a customer browsing nearby felt the need to turn around and shush us, rather harshly.
"You know, you're not the only one here!" she yelled down the aisle.
We all turned and stared, exposing our Bob's Hogs name tags to her, apparently further antagonizing her.
"You people all work here?" she hissed, eyes narrowing into slits.
"Yes. And we are very sorry to have disturbed you." offered one of my coworkers.
"Damn," District Manager let slip under her breath, prompting us all to giggle and receive further glares from the unhappy customer. DM continued, "You'd think she owned the store."
I love DM. I'll miss her when we leave.
The third interview for the Seattle job with Bob's Hogs finally came through. It went well and at the end of the interview the District Manager told me, "Should you not get this job, and I'm not trying to project one way or the other, please let me know when you want to relocate to Seattle, as I would love to have you in any of my stores."
After the mention of Ben and Jerry's ice cream a couple of posts ago, I thought I should check out just what it takes to create a new taste sensation for Ben and Jerry. Upon finding their website, I was distracted by the fact that Free Cone Day at Ben and Jerry's Scoop Shops is tomorrow, April 19th!
You can find a store near you by clicking here. Fee scoops are offered from noon until 8pm.
All nine boxes arrived from the Bob's Hogs and Weiner Pigs Free Schlock Party (aka the Vendor Expo) today. Whee! See the pictures. Be frightened of how much crap we can unload in 10 minutes:
We pared it down to the following; two boxes for Frinklin, two boxes for me, two boxes for my parents and younger siblings, one bag for Frinklin's parents, one bag (almost all manga) for sister Katie, one bag for Frinklin's parents, one box for friends at work, one box for my favorite customers, plus a few pulled out for friends. Did I mention we already have all our books double depth shelved on our shelves?
FYI: There are three more bookshelves just like 'em in the bedroom, along with 12 boxes of books waiting for a home in the garage. It's a sickness, I know.
Frinklin, sister Katie, and myself attended the 19th annual Fallbrook Avocado Festival yesterday. Just in case you though that guacamole was the only way to eat avocados, let me assure you--you are wrong:
The best guac I've ever eaten
Like avocado tempura, crispy on the outside, creamy on the inside. Served with ranch dressing as dip
What we searched for all day...
Behold! The avocado ice cream!
DELICIOUS. It tasted exta creamy and smelled like ripe avocados. Just what you would expect from avocado ice cream. Now I must convince Ben and Jerry's to pick it up.
Indications are that the season one Scrubs DVD streets on May 17th.
And there was much rejoicing in the Frinklin/Ensie household.
It's about time! Lost's season one is already scheduled to street on September 6th, and it hasn't finished airing all of the episodes yet!
(I'm a bit ashamed as apparently this is common knowledge and I had neglected to check the status in the last couple months)
Eight weeks and one day after my tax return arrived at it's destination, I receive my state tax refund.
Watch me get audited now.
Big ups to the Gay Comic Book Store Dude (as opposed to the Ms. Comic Book Shop Owner or Scary Comic Book Store Dude) who recommended the book In Me Own Words: The Autobiography of Bigfoot by Graham Roumieu.
I haven't laughed this hard since, well, since I fell of my chair last weekend looking at The Passion of the Tchotche. It's a great collection of thoughts from the big hairy guy, accompanied by perfect watercolor illustrations. An excerpt:
I am not Chewbacca. Me think Chewbacca jerk. He no can act. he ride Bigfoot coat tails. He think he cool, but he not. He phoney loser with no class. He all messed up on crack me think. People think me Chewbacca sometimes. No! Me have job. Bad Wookie. Bad.
Through his own words, you will experience Bigfoot's frustration with neighborhood squirrels, rejection in highschool, disasterous political career, and what really happened to Koko the gorilla and the cat they both knew so well.
Well worth the $12.95. This is my new present everyone should expect from me this year.
Hi. I know we don't speak a lot, but I need to ask a favor of you. Early this morning at 4:06am there was a 4.0 earthquake centered 30 miles away from my house. Now, I know your're under a lot of pressue (pun intended), but I have things to do at that time of day. OK, technically, I just have one thing to do at 4am; I don't appreciate my dreams being interrupted by a 60 lb. dog jumping on my head*.
*Actually, that's what usually happens when an earthquake strikes (or the smoke alarm starts beeping because the battery is dead). This earthquake coincided with The Jeffery standing up, shaking, and trying to get under the covers (all normal activities for The Jeffery at 4am). I actually woke up and said, "I thought that was an earthquake, but it was just The Jeffery." Frinklin replied, "Mmmmf." Turns out it was an earthquake.
An update on my earlier post regarding the idea of hunting feral cats in Wisconsin. Check out Don't Shoot the Cat to sign the petition against this idea. As of this moment over 19,000 have already signed.
Britney is 100% positively pregnant. Ew.
Must not think about Kevin Federcreep having...(gag)...sex...too late!
I fear for the future. I'm betting they don't even stay married through the pregnancy. Any takers?
Remember when you'd go to see a war movie and every battle was dotted with giant catapults? All along the battle lines you'd see rocks flying and things smashing from the catapult.
Well, that day has come to an end. Good bye catapult, hello trebuchet!
Trebuchets are much more dramatic than your average catapult. They involve moving parts that swing and fling. Everywhere I look, trebuchets are the go-to battle accessory when it comes to movies. I first noticed them in The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King, sending chunks of the Minas Tirith winging back at the Orc attackers. The orcs had a catapult or two, but they just looked sad next to the dynamic action of the trebuchets.
Now I'm seeing previews for Orlando Bloom's new film Kingdom of Heaven, and lo-and-behold, trebuchets are plentiful in several scenes, but not a single catapult.
I find it interesting that I had never heard of these things before and now they seem to be popping up regularly (FYI--my Dad knew all about trebuchets and actually built one with my 14 year-old brother after seeing ROTK. I now know far more about trebuchets than I will ever need to know).
What kind of place legalizes the killing of pet animals for sport? I understand that various people around the world enjoy slaughtering all sorts of creatures for "fun", but shooting feral cats is about the dumbest idea I've ever heard. Wouldn't spaying and neutering them be more productive (and quite a bit less bloodthirsty)?
I'm not a fan of shooting animals for any reason. It's a painfully awful way to die for an animal who has no understanding of what you are doing and why. And please don't get all up in my grill about how I eat animals for dinner so why can't we just shoot a few more, etc. I understand that I am eating animals, and it's not something I love about myself. I've been a vegetarian off-and-on who has struggled with eating animals for a long time, and I take ownership of it. While the meatpacking/slaughtering industry is far from humane, killing animals for nothing more than entertainment with a gun is just barbaric.
I canāt help but think that cats are so unprotected out in the world already. Itās really rather a miracle that outdoor cats survive at all with cars hitting them, little food or access to water, no healthcare, and a number of people who already think torturing cats is funny and amusing (think about the various stories you hear of cats set on fire, tossed off of overpasses and the like). There are already cat traps and successful no cost feral spay/neuter programs available to those with feral cat problems. It appears that many just feel that itās much easier to get off a load of buckshot.
Most importantlyāhow does the shooter know that the cat he or she is shooting is feral? What if itās a lost pet or just an outdoor kitty?
I have always believed that the most evil people on this planet are those who torture and kill innocent beings. I cringe at the pictures of stray dogs running around or animals in zoos, all while living in war zones, starving and dying at the hands of people too involved in their own fight to notice the effect their actions have on other being sharing our planet. This falls under the same banner in my mind; in fact, I believe itās even worse, as people would be actively working toward the inhumane killing of animals we initially failed to take responsibility for and allowed to reach a destructive level.
Check out Sara of goingjesus.com. She has a great piece published in BUST magazine this month and has earned a permanent place on the blogroll. Make sure you check out The Passion of the Tchotchke which made me laugh so hard I peed my pants and fell out of my chair.
She also provides WTFWJD? T-shirts for sale. Because, really, haven't you always wondered?
P.S. Calvacade of Bad Nativities "Whooooo is the son of God? Whooooo?"
I love doing my taxes. I'm fully aware that refunds are really a bad thing, because that money that was already mine was taken away when it shouldn't have been. There're all sorts of accountant types who will explain that big refunds are not the best way to manage your money.
However, I still like tax refunds. I like looking forward to that "magic" money showing up in my bank account. When my W-2 doesn't show up exactly on time my annoyance is obvious.
I mailed my tax paperwork in on February 10th, and received my federal refund, via direct deposit to my checking account, on March 4th. I usually e-file, but my tax status made me inelligible for that 3 day refund this year. I was still comfortable with the idea of 3 - 4 weeks for a tax refund.
Now I'm waiting for my state taxes. I've been waiting since they received them on February 14th; I know that because I've called the state tax board, twice, to ask when I can expect my money to show up in my bank account.
My first conversation with the California tax board didn't go well. They claimed not to know who I was. Apparently they have no record of my married name change which occurred 8 months ago. Once I had transferred twice and informed them that no, I would not be faxing my social security card anywhere to anyone and they would change it over the phone goddamn it, I was informed that my refund was "in process" and would take 8 - 10 weeks.
It has been 7 weeks as of today. It will be 8 weeks on Monday.
Currently the score is Federal tax board 1, CA state tax board 0.
I've mentioned Chicken before, but never really wrote much about him. He's a parrot that my parents discovered in their backyard 6 years ago. They bribed him with snacks and dropped him off at my work to become my new pet.
Things started off well with Chicken. He was one of only a couple of other pets; my gay kitty, Merlin, and a three-legged turtle named Tripod that I had inherited from a college acquaintance. The turtle was silent, Merlin was pissy, and Chicken was loud. Everyone had his role mapped out. Things continued to go smoothly with the addition of another cat, Moby, my childhood Cockatiel, Gilbert, and Frinklin's dog, Matchbox. Everyone was still getting along, and we were one (now very) big family.
Enter: The Jeffery.
Chicken and Jeffery had trouble from the start. Aside from the barking/screaming contests, Jeffery decided upon meeting Chicken that he would make great McNuggets. No amount of training was going to make him give up his dream of Chicken Dinner. This meant that Chicken spent more and more time in his cage, which really pissed him off.
Parrots are extremely smart animals. Some can have vocabularies as large as 1000 words or more and they need a lot of attention and stimulation to keep from becoming bored. Studies show that they have brain function similar to a four-year-old child. Imagine leaving your four-year-old locked in a cage 23 hours a day with a couple of toys and a mirror for company. I felt awful keeping Chicken behind bars, but with the Jeffery plotting his assassination, I had limited options.
One year ago, I placed an ad in the local paper:
Amazon parrot, friendly, male, good pet, not for kids $300. Must observe new home before purchase
I received several responses to the ad, and set up a meeting with one gentleman who was very interested. He showed up with a cardboard box, glanced at the bird through his cage, and started counting out twenty-dollar bills on the table.
āIāll take āem.ā
āUm,ā I stalled, āWhat will you be doing with him?ā
āAh, but Iām not 100% sure heās a boy. And heās not proven. Would he just be in a cage all the time?ā
āYeah. With other birds.ā
I didnāt have a good feeling about this and couldnāt just let this man walk away with him, āI though I made it clear in the ad that I want him to be a pet, as he is used to human company. I would need to see where he would be living before I agree to the sale.ā
My insistence that I see Chickenās new digs was the twist in the deal the ābreederā wouldnāt agree too. I thanked him for his time and sent him on his way. I didnāt want to know what this skeezy guy really wanted my bird for, or what kind of possibly awful conditions he would be living in. Scratch that plan.
Chicken stayed home and The Jeffery and he continued to argue over who had top billing in our household.
Another year passed, and I watched Chicken become more and more sullen in his cage. We brought him out to play and socialize occasionally, but didnāt have the time to entertain him properly. I finally decided to call up the local bird store, Bird Crazy, and ask about placing him for sale on consignment there.
At the start of March we took him to the store and he was an immediate hit. He put on a great show for the staff, surprising us by offering up his funny and friendly personality. They priced him and put him out with the other birds for sale. Frinklin and I stopped by to see him a couple of days later to make sure he was happy. He seemed more cheerful and bright-eyed than ever.
We went back today; one month from the date we dropped Chicken off, expecting to pick him up, as we hadnāt been notified that heād sold. However, it turns out an oversight had been made, and we hadnāt been notified when he sold just a day after we had stopped in to check up on him. They cut me a check on the spot and thanked me for my business.
Now heās truly not mine anymore, and I find myself wondering who bought Chicken. I hope the staff at Bird Crazy told his new owner(s?) that he likes french fries and chips more than anything. That he can ring exactly like the phone (prompting Frinklin or I to call, āThe Chicken is for you, honey!ā). If you put him on the floor heāll chase you around the house like a bowlegged troll, hopping and waddling after you until he can climb up your pants to your shoulder, where he will cluck in your ear, just like the Chicken that he is.
The dogs, which prior to Sunday morning woke Frinklin up to feed them breakfast at 4:45am, have now switched to our usual (weekday) wake-up time of 5:45am. Also, they have shifted their dinner time to 7:15pm.
Fall is really going to suck.
I nearly cried with laughter when I saw this promo spot.
And then I nearly cried with sadness when I saw it wasn't real.
I would totally watch Tiny House.
It's a big secret but I have to tell someone so, I figure The Internet is the best place to unload my secret. I have a highly coveted, greatly demanded, spectacularly anticipated, and incredibly exciting pass to the Bob's Hogs and Weiner Pigs Vendor Expo that is coming to San Diego next Sunday! This involves meeting each and every vendor that services Bob's Hogs and Weiner Pigs in order to see what is new in the world of Hogs and Weiner Pigs.
Did I mention that the Bob's Hogs and Weiner Pigs Vendor Expo gives away tons of free schlock? And not your average, run-of-the-mill lollipops and plastic toys. These are fantabulous gally copies of EVERYTHING DUE TO BE PUBLISHED IN THE NEXT FEW MONTHS.
If you're a book whore like me (and many of my close associates), you'd be freaking out too.
My boss mentioned to me that despite the urge which comes over everyone attending this event to run down the aisles snatching freebies from every booth, I must stop and speak with everyone there. Apparently, in the past, the vendors have noticed that we, the Bob's Hogs and Weiner Pigs representatives, tend to be a little, um, well, grabby and also a bit greedy when it comes to free stuff.
I'm practicing getting out, "HiI'mEnsiehowareyoutodaygreatisthisnewwhendoesitcomeoutthanksbye!" in under 1 second.
Today was LJ's last day at work. She has up and joined the US Navy, crazy, brave girl that she is. I've worked with her for several years and will miss having her on "the other side of the desk". No more conversations that start with, "Hey LJ...?".
LJ--I wish you much luck in your new endevor. I hope we'll see eachother before you leave for Chicago in a few weeks. I enjoyed working with you and I know that you'll do very well in the future.
I forget, sometimes, what a wonderful husband I have chosen.
I spent an hour on the phone with a friend tonight, discussing her reoccurring problems with her partner of 8 years. They have two children together, and she feels utterly trapped in a dying relationship. I had no practical advice to give, as I've never, and cannot ever, see my own relationship going through the same issues.
Ā· He is kind and gentle
Ā· He loves animals
Ā· He is working on loving children, although I have no doubt he will be an incredible dad when he has his own to care for.
Ā· He is intelligent, even when he uses most of his brainpower to recall obscure baseball statistics.
Ā· He is considerate
Ā· He is patient
Ā· He is understanding
Ā· He is strong
Ā· He is cuddly
Ā· He is sexy
Ā· He is handsome
Ā· He is brave
Ā· He is my best friend
He is all of these things when I am not. He supports me when I need it, and gives me my space when I ask. He is amazingly good at anticipating just what I want, even when I donāt know myself what I am looking for.
We are certainly not rich. We have bills that we struggle to pay and jobs that we donāt love but canāt leave. Our families can drive us crazy. I can definitely be difficult to deal with. I worry about everything. I am not very consistent, in thoughts or actions at times. I am emotional and sappy. All of these things once overwhelmed me daily.
My husband creates balance in my life, and I love him for it.