Libations

Libations,
originally uploaded by Westbye.

Good morning!

Eat (pig) shit.

License plate observed on the pike today: 84H POO

Spend a lot of time hanging around the petting zoo?

Obviously it's nothing. Surely this was just a randomly spit-out DMV issued number, and not the intentionally chosen vanity plate of one who enjoys consuming livestock excreta. No self-respecting pig shit eater (and of course there's no such thing as a self-respecting pig shit eater) would drive around and advertise. Still, if I had been assigned that plate? Um, I might've, you know, asked for another one?

Note for posterity

Burping loudly into the receiver while being told to enter my car loan number apparently fools the autoprompter into thinking I have requested that all further instructions be in Spanish. This is a good thing to know.

Interesting phenomenon #32: our phone number is marked. We closed on our house in May. Since then, we have received countless calls at all hours from a fax machine. Further, there have been an abnormal number of hang-up messages and "Please hold on for an important business message!" messages. Yeah, that do-not-call list has been real effective. I finally called one of the numbers to A: find out who the fuck was calling so incessantly, and B: to be taken off the list.

Apparently, my number used to belong to a M--- C---, and apparently, M-- C--- is a credit absconder.

The first woman that I talked to at the collections agency was very nice, and promised to note that M-- C--- was no longer at our number. After the next call, the second drone I talked to was slightly less helpful. He told me that he couldn’t take our number off the list because M-- C--- was still unaccounted for, as were the funds she had siphoned off with. His advice? "Umm…just try to answer the phone so you can explain the situation." I work. "Umm…well, can you try to answer the phone?" I work. Shall I answer the phone from work with telepathy? "Uhhh…" Just because you can answer a phone doesn’t mean that you should be doing so for a living, cha-cha. I did take down the name and extension of pleasant-and-competent collections agency woman, but I haven’t been able to connect with her. Perhaps because I’m working and not home living off of the proceeds of bum checks, and I’m not about to call a collections agency from the cube. "Uhhh…." Fuckers.

Wherever you are tonight, M-- C---, I hope you’re living it up. And preparing for a radical change in lifestyle where you just might get traded around the yard for a pack of menthols.

Excuse me: incoming fax call…