Incoherent Ramblings of an Old(ish) Woman with a Dell

“I never know when”

I love good TV commercials; like talking Baby Bob on the Quiznos’ ad and even the AFLAC Duck. Of course, the Super Bowl commercials are the creme’ de la creme’. I’ve been a commercial fan for as long as I can remember and enjoy spotting BAD ads.

Lately there has been a Prilosec OTC commercial where (supposedly) actual users of the product give their testimonials. The first lady talks about how when she lays (lies?) down with her kids to read, she always gets heartburn and Prilosec OTC is most assuredly the wonder drug for her.

Then there’s the next lady who says “I get heartburn three and four times a day; and I never know when”. Now, I know what this woman means but isn’t she saying that she never knows when she gets heartburn? And if so, why does she need Prilosec? I mean, if I could get heartburn and never know it, I’d be eating Mexican food all the time! Wouldn’t you?

Get to the Point, Willya?

I’ve come to realize that I’m too long-winded; so, henceforth my entries shall be short and sweet.

Here’s today’s post:

Laundry
Da Vinci Code
Flowers
Spaghetti
Idol

Ah-lo, thees eez ZZZshorj. Ow meh ah hop u?

Okay, it’s time for a rant. Now this may offend some of you but it’s my blog and I can write whatever I want so get over it, report me to the blog police or whatever.

I am so friggin’ sick and tired of calling technical support and having the phone answered by some third-world country, non-english speaking fuckwad……particularly those from India. I can honestly say that I’ve never met an Indian (from India, not America) that I liked. In fact, every Indian that I’ve had to interact with I wound up hating.

The first encounter I recall that really rankled me was when the day care hired an Indian woman for the toddler’s room where my son spent his days. First of all she dressed in full Indian garb which frightened the children. Secondly, she STUNK with a full-blown I’ve-been-workin’-on-the-railroad-all-the-live-long-day kind of B.O. You could smell her when you walked into the room. I finally told the director that she needed to say something to the woman about the odor. However, the very next day when I took my son to school, not only did the bitch still stink but my baby clung to me and cried for the very first time. This Indian pond scum walked over and grabbed MY BABY by the arm and jerked him away saying “Stop it right now” (sounds like sahp eet rah naw). Man, I was livid and got right in her face. Luckily another mother saw the entire episode and we both marched to the director’s office (with our kids safely in our arms) and told her if that raunchy piece of shit wasn’t fired immediately, we were filing a report with the state and taking our kids out of the center. Sue, the director, was appalled and took instant action. The stinky hag was out the door, another teacher called in, my baby happily in place and I was still on time to work that morning.

I’m really not a person who judges an entire nation by one bad apple; so, I truly tried not to let this situation affect my perception of other Indians.

UNTIL.

If you’ve read my Shoulda Got a Dell entry, you’ll remember that I’ve had a Dell computer for several years. In fact, I’m on my third Dell and I bought my youngest son a Dell laptop for school this year. However, my choice of manufacturers will definitely change next time I decide to upgrade because every fucking time I’ve called support in the last two years the phone has been answered (when it’s finally answered) with “Ah-lo, thees eez ZZZshorj. Ow meh ah hop u?”. Of course it’s not always ZZZshorj (George. Yea right, your name is George or Jim or Nancy or whatever, my ass!)

Obviously, these people are skilled or they wouldn’t be working for Dell as technical support *rolling eyes*. What I always try to do is make them aware that I’m also somewhat computer savvy and have already gone through the first five or six steps that they’ll want me to do. No go………you gotta go through the same fucking thing that you’ve been doing all fucking day just to prove to them that you’ve done it. (little aside here……last time, I wrote down all the steps I’d already taken and the error messages I received at each step and when the bastard would tell me to do something, I’d take a drink of tea and/or have a smoke and then read him my notes) When all else fails, ZZZshorj tells me to remove the cover of the computer (sounds more like re-moo ze coe-vair uv ze comb-poo-tair). This is where shit hits the fan. There is no fucking reason for me to open the cover of a brand new computer when the problem is obviously either an operating system or software issue. The damn computer turns on and boots up, the RAM is fine, the fan is running, so why the fuck do I need to re-moo ze coe-vair uv ze comb-poo-tair? (and I’m also thinking here, what if I were 87 years old and had arthritis so badly that I couldn’t even begin to LIFT the gd harddrive much less re-moo ze coe-vair uv ze comb-poo-tair?)

Of course, during the conversation I’ve had to ask no less than 5,743 times for ZZZshorj to repeat himself. During one session with a femail ZZZshorj, I finally got so frustrated that I demanded to talk with an “English speaking” representive. “Zees ees EEEngleesh zat ah’, speekeeeng”. “Then put someone one whose FIRST language is English”…………and she hung up on me. That’s right, Dell. Your cheap technical support person hung up on a customer who has spent no less than $10,000 on Dell computers and accessories in the last eight years.

At this point, I’m usually so mad I can’t think straight so I BEG…….I mean literally BEG and PLEAD with the Prof to take over. I just have to make sure that his nitro is handy in the event he works himself into a stroke!

So Dell, I will never buy another computer from you and I’d rather chew off my arm than have to call your technical support department again. Clear enough for you? No? How about this?

Dell, re-moo ze coe-vair uv ze comb-poo-tair an shuv eet ap u ahz.

Da Room – TA DA!

Da Room is finito!!

tada 1

tada2

tada3

tada4

tada5

Furniture Sold = ($400.00)
Couch/Fouton = $339.00
Paint = $26.00
Wallpaper = $54.00
2 Lamps = $65.00
Rug = $30.00
TV Cart = $40.00
End Table = $50.00
TV = $200.00
Picture = $40.00
Curtains = $136.00
Desk = $100.00
Clock = $15.00
Clock Radio/CD Player = $30.00

Redoing a 17 year old boy’s room = $725.00
Redoing it for my son = Priceless

Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition booze!

Warning to All Women!!!

Most of you have read the scare-mail about the person whose kidneys were stolen while he was passed out—well, read on. While that was an “urban legend” this one is not. It’s happening every day to women just like this one… just like us!!

My thighs were stolen from me during the night of August 3rd, four years ago. It was just that quick. I went to sleep in my body and woke up with someone else’s thighs. The new ones had the texture of cooked oatmeal!

Who would have done such a cruel thing? I spent the entire summer looking for them. I searched, in vain, at pools and beaches, anywhere I might find female limbs exposed. I became obsessed. Finally, hurt and angry, I
resigned myself to living out my life in jeans and Sheer Energy pantyhose.

Then, just when my guard was down, the thieves struck again! My rear end was next. I knew it was the same gang because they took pains to match my new rear end (although badly attached at least three inches lower than the original) to the thighs they had stuck me with earlier. Now my rear complemented my legs, lump for lump. Frantic, I prayed that long skirts would stay in fashion.

It was 2 years ago when I realized my arms had been switched. One morning while fixing my hair, I watched horrified but fascinated, as the flesh of my upper arms swung to and fro with the motion of the hairbrush. This was really getting scary. My body was being replaced, cleverly and fiendishly, one section at a time.

Age? Age had nothing to do with it. Age was supposed to creep up, unnoticed and intangible, something like maturity.

Then my poor neck disappeared more quickly than the Thanksgiving turkey it now reminded me of. This is NOT a hoax! This is happening to women in every town every night.

Warn all your friends!!!!!

PS….Yesterday I thought someone had stolen my breasts. I was lying in bed and they were gone. As I sprang from my bed, I was relieved to see that they were just hiding in my pajama bottoms. I now keep them tucked in my waistband.

(courtesy of MoMo)

Da Room 3

I’m slowly but surely getting John’s room finished. The cable guys came this morning and installed cable in the room. All the carpet is up, out and gone; the wood floor has been washed, waxed and buffed and the area rug is down. I’ve put together a TV cart and an end table; and, as you can see below, putting together the chest of drawers will most assuredly be a breeze *rolling eyes*.

John's Room 3

Chest Box

Chest Box 2

No doubt I’ll be done in less that an hour, right? LOL

Furniture Sold = ($400.00)
Couch/Fouton = $339.00
Paint = $26.00
Wallpaper = $54.00
2 Lamps = $65.00
Rug = $30.00
TV Cart = $40.00
End Table = $50.00
TV = $200.00
Picture = $40.00

Games We ‘Old Folk’ Play

1. Sag, you’re It.
2. Hide and go pee.
3. 20 questions shouted into your good ear.
4. Kick the bucket
5. Red Rover, Red Rover, the nurse says Bend Over.
6. Musical recliners.
7. Simon says something incoherent.
8. Pin the Toupee on the bald guy.

Da Room 2

Da Wallpaper is done:

The Wallpaper

Furniture Sold = ($400.00)
Couch/Fouton = $339.00
Paint = $26.00
Wallpaper = $54.00

Today is “tear up carpet” day…….oh joy!

The Night I Ate My Thong

I was reminded of a seriously humilitating moment in my life after reading That Hair at Klog which is seriously funny shit!

Many pounds ago when I was in my late thirties, divorced and feeling my oats, I decided that I’d try a thong. (No, I didn’t get a wax; yes, I shaved……don’t ask).

One night, I had plans with a friend to go dancing at a fun 50’s bar called Holly’s in Oklahoma. Because I was “in to” line dancing at the time, I decided to dress western and chose some really tight-fitting black Rockies along with a fabulous mock-turtle neck black knit western shit, complete with fringe. I topped off the outfit with black Ropers, a black leather western belt (complete with gaudy silver buckle) and turquoise/silver jewelry. I was hot!

Now, here’s where I must mention that because the jeans were so tight, I decided to wear a thong to avoid a panty line along with support panty hose to ensure what baby-belly I had wouldn’t show.

Off we to the club and dance we did! Of course, after a few drinks it was time to head to the head, so to speak. I always waited until I couldn’t wait to go to the ladies room; so when I did go, it was absolute urgency.

I opened the stall (after waiting in line about 15 minutes) and hurriedly unbuckled, unsnapped and unzipped my jeans, yanked down the panty hose, sat down and felt the sweet relief of relief. As I went to wipe, it was then and only then that I realized that I’d forgotten to pull down my thong (those things really MUST be comfortable).

Here I sat in a stall in a public restroom with wet drawers. I certainly couldn’t wear them back out; they smelled like pee! My only option was to take them off and trash them. After all, I was still wearing DRY panty hose. Taking off my thong would involve taking off boots, socks, jeans and hose….all of which I decided was too much of a bother. Besides, it was hot in that bathroom and there was another 20 minute line waiting to get in. I did the only thing I could. I stood up, pulled the thong down to my knees, sat back down and proceeded to try to tear the thong off. No go. Vicki’s Secret makes their thongs way stronger than you’d imagine.

I had no choice, I’d have to chew it off. Well, that’s what I did. I grabbed hold with my teeth and started yanking, gnarling and pulling until, after about 10 minutes that damned thong finally gave out and let go. I was free! Of course, then I had to hide it in my pocket until no one was looking so I could throw it away.

So now you’ve read my one and only thong adventure. Yep, I never wore one again.

Da Room

With the upcoming arrival of John, I decided to give his room a mini-makeover; you know, kind of “Trading Spaces” style with a limited budget. I allocated myself $1,000 (just like they do in most of the shows) and set out to completely re-do what has been the guest room.

Here is a before shot:

Before Shot

The picture is kind of crappy so I don’t know if you can tell that the walls are a kind of peachy-pink…..not at all the color a 17 year old boy should have to live with. So, I picked out a really pale blue-gray for the walls. You can’t see, but the floor is covered by the most god-awful turquoise carpet which will be pulled up to expose the wood floors.

The furniture has been moved out (sold), a new couch-fouton is now the only piece in the room and the painting is almost done. I’ve finished the ceiling and the walls and will do the trimwork this afternoon. Tomorrow, I plan to wallpaper one wall and start pulling up carpet and tack strips (that should be a real joy).

Day 1

Furniture Sold = ($400.00)
Couch/Fouton = $339.00
Paint = $26.00

I’ll keep you posted on the progress and costs as work continues. Now, off to finish the painting!