Another One Bites the Dust

Aww, peas. I've been sucked into ANOTHER internet thing because on most non-blogger blogs, you can't leave comments without being a member. That is so dumb. Grr. Anyway, if any of you are livejournal users, I now have commenting abilities, so you will know when Jem, of Holograms fame, and the TeamAwesomeCapt. leaves you a comment that I am truly outrageous. Truly, truly, truly outrageous. But I will NOT be blogging there! GAHHHH!

Do You Believe in Love at First Sight, Or Should I Walk By Again?

or The Quotable MaryT

I was just looking in my archives to see if I had ever posted about my grandma's birthday before (I have never posted on 2/27 before, but I am apparently making up for lost time this year)and I found a little gem I had to re-post. Now, I don't want to go all Mrs. Elton on y'all (Erin gets this), but I happen to think this was one of my more inspired moments, so chew on it for a bit.

I'd like to see a movie like The Wedding Date in which everything is hunky dory, funny, sweet, and generally numbing, until suddenly the bride rips off her veil to reveal that she is actually a three-years dead deranged polar bear with gum disease.

A Couple Things You Shouldn't Do In Your Ex-Capacity

Rules of the road, folks (no reference to my previous post; I'm trying to take my mind off it!). If you're someone's ex, try to refrain from the following behaviors. Feel free to add in the comments section and maybe I can incorporate them into a future post.

1) Do not use your ex's jokes/phrases elsewhere on the internet. I mean, it's really bad manners to use them at all, but at least don't get caught, you jackass. For example, an ex (ex-friend, ex-boyfriend, ex-cat, ex-cousin, whatever) of mine using bizard or some other uniquely-MaryT turn of phrase or even a phrase not *totally* unique to me, but which I always say (and you never did) is pretty uncool. Your license to my jokes/wordsmithing only lasts as long as our relationship. Unless I die first. Then you can discuss copyrights with Molly. (Hint: She is likely to win any type of argument, especially as it relates to Orbee.)

2) Do not use photographs of an ex in any way except burning. Like, if you have a photo of me, feel free to burn it or whatever. But don't feel free to photoshop it to include your new person. And don't feel free to crop me out of it to use as your online personals photo. Tres gauche.

That's all for now. Carry on!

P.S. I hope this is not creepy, but Happy Birthday to my grandma, who would be 101 today. She passed away nearly 17 years ago, but I miss her every day.

Horrified

This afternoon, while trying to make a left turn by the courthouse, I was stopped when a white Department of Corrections/Police van pulled right in front of me, apparently blocking the road.

"What the heck, man?" and I went around the van, thinking the driver was simply a bad one, making a very wide turn, only to understand immediately what was happening.

Sirens blaring in the background is all I heard when I saw the very twisted, very lifeless figure of a man hit--very hard apparently--by a car. He hadn't been covered up and I had arrived at the scene before anyone except the one van, which arrived at the same time as me. And I thought about the car that had been there only moments before mine on which he'd met his fate.

That was about an hour and a half ago and I feel quite shaken by it. I didn't know him or anything. He was obviously homeless and shabby and maybe no one who did know him knows he's gone yet. He may have been sick and dying or mentally ill already. But at the time I got in my car, about five or six minutes before, he was still alive--even if it was a compromised existence. And by the time I traveled those few blocks, his life had been violently snuffed out. That is what is so haunting.

I feel sick and I can't stop seeing him in my mind's eye like roadkill, his face pressed hard at an awkward angle to the pavement, his tongue hanging out. I am shivering.

OKAY! I'm LEAVING Now!... OKAY! I don't care...

Have you ever met one of those people that keeps announcing they're leaving and people say their goodbyes, but then the person stays and keeps causing everyone to get up again until you're like "whatever, leave, we have stuff to do." Maybe not. Well, this is what my cell phone does...as if I care.

But I did care this morning when it did its "Hey! Notice me!" routine at 5:45am in the short few minutes before MRT2 got up to go open the gun range at 6. It chimes five times with this poor man's grandfather clock tone. One time? Okay, I need to charge it. Two times? Thanks for the reminder, but I want to sleep. Three times +? AHHHHH! STOOOOOOP! Turn off already! I want to throw you in a shark tank!

The funny thing is that my cell phone does not have that chime as a ringtone. It only has stupendously obnoxious non-plain ones, so I downloaded Inspector Gadget so the obnoxious ring would at least be on my own terms. But MRT2 is about to go batty with Monsier l'Inspecteur, so i might change it back to Aha's Take On Me (also obnoxious on my own terms).

Anyway, to top it all, my stupid neighbors are adding, yet again, another trashy improvement to their McMansion--specifically another patio improvement. The hilarious thing about them is that I see them on their patios exactly once after each "improvement." Currently, they have hired a man to cut patio tiles in the backyard, which commenced with approximately sunrise (and continues--Grr!). Other improvements include other tile-cutting additions, new and larger wicker furniture to give pause and encourage gagging of even the most jaded observer, a $1500 restaurant-caliber heat lamp, a mosquito-jet/cooling hose system and MRT2's favorite: ceramic kittens. I am personally quite fond of the fake outdoor flora and the MANY garden orbs of various colors and sizes. Bear in mind that these people have spent approximately five mornings/afternoons on their patios, despite the nice weather. Conclusion: all the money in the world can't take away the fact that their UGLY house is a major piece...

I really wish the tile-cutting would stop. But in the meantime, my new band find The Magnetic Fields are keeping my spirits up.

Pretty Good... for My Age

One thing I occasionally like to do here on F-R is document my encounters with the shockingly incompetent. I was fuming so madly about this particular episode, however, I had to give it a couple of days lest I go and anger myself all over again. Poor KoF had to deal with the fall-out on this one Tuesday night.

For whatever reason, United Healthcare has had quite a time getting out insurance cards to policy holders since the first of the year (which you may remember as being quite nearly two full months ago). Apparently, the state of Texas requires (and always has) co-pays to be printed on the card. Despite having been a Texas healthcare insurance provider for oh, say, a MILLION years, the subtleties of actually printing cards which met these standards somehow escaped them and the cards had to be re-printed, so I'm told, one to fifteen times. I might also note that my premium in 2005 for this sick insurance was $30/month. Now thanks to the rising cost of healthcare, I pay $100/month. Disgusting. Yet despite having paid for the last two months, I have not been insured. How do I know?

Well, I have been waiting to pick up a prescription for going on two weeks now. Waiting that is, to get my insurance card in the mail. I was told I could download a temporary card by visiting myuhc.com. However, not having my new subscriber ID, I was required to call customer service to get this information. Upon obtaining the number, I logged in with my social security number, full name, birth date and so forth and received an error message with two choices.

WARNING: This information does not match that of our database.
-This information is correct. > Continue
-This information is not correct. > Edit

Mine was correct. So I continued, but was unable to find the link to download my temporary card. Apparently hidden, I called back customer service for further guidance. The following is a faithful narrative of my dealings with customer disservice at United Healthcare.

MaryT Hello, I just logged into the web site, but I am unable to find the link to download my temporary card.
C-Service Okay ma'am, let me just verify your subscriber ID, date of birth and so on and we'll see what the problem is.
MaryT Okay, my social is (#), my subscriber ID is (#), my middle initial is R., Benita Carver was my third grade teacher, I have no late fees at any rental places and my date of birth is August 23, 1980.
C-Service I'm sorry ma'am, but that is not your date of birth.
MaryT I beg your pardon?
C-Service That is not what we have listed as your birthday.
MaryT Well, it IS my birthday. Can you tell me what you have on file?
C-Service I'm sorry, I'm not at liberty to disclose personal information.
MaryT But it's MY personal information and I'd like to correct it.
C-Service I'm sorry ma'am; you'll have to have your employer contact us if there's a problem.
MaryT But they'll just tell you what my real birthday is and I can do that right now.
C-Service I'm sorry, ma'am. You need to talk to *your employer.*
MaryT (why do they keep saying ma'am like it's still polite after they've been talking to you like you're 2? Find out!) Well, the thing is, I need to get my insurance card because I need to pick up a prescription. I've been waiting two months and my card is still not here. When Walgreens tried to look it up, they said I had no coverage. Now I have SEEN that the money is coming out of my paycheck and I would imagine it's going to y'all. I assume the problem is because my birthdate was incorrect. Now can you PLEASE help me?
C-Service I'm sorry, ma'am. You need to talk to *your employer* for us to update our records.
MaryT Well can you just tell me what my fake birthday is so I can log in with that?
C-Service No, ma'am. your birthday listed with us is September 2005, so having told you won't do any good.
MaryT Well why can't I...wait, did you say 2005? Well...that would mean I'm only six months old. Six months old?
C-Service Yes ma'am. And since you're under 18, we can't provide you with a link to your own card.
MaryT But I'm not under 18! I'm 25!
C-Service Not according to our records...
MaryT I'm sorry, are you telling me that you believe me to be a six month old infant?
C-Service There's no need to be snippy, ma'am. I just go by what the computer says.
MaryT But a baby that age can't even form a sentence. Cannot dial customer service. I'm not *impersonating* someone. I just want my prescription, which has nothing to do with your database. There WAS health insurance before the internet! I just want my card because according to my premiums, I have MORE than paid for it.
C-Service Will there be anything else, ma'am?
MaryT Yes, I'd like to talk to your supervisor.
C-Service I'm sorry, ma'am, they've gone home.
MaryT But you're not closed? The supervisors go home first?
C-Service We close in 45 minutes, ma'am.
MaryT ???????? And you can't help me?
C-Service You NEED to contact your employer.
MaryT Well, what can you do?
C-Service Nothing without the approval of your employer.
MaryT ?????
C-Service Will there be anything else?
MaryT [totally distraught] I guess not.
C-Service Click.

King of Feb What'd they say?
MaryT ???????
King of Feb Can you get your card?
MaryT [incoherent screaming]
King of Feb Wow, this is really helpful.

So it was a long one, but there you go, fiends.

Feeling Strangely Blogister

I even have *another* one in the works, but I just wanted to update y'all on the Dum-Dum situation.

Now there are like ONLY root beer ones--and just as I was starting to like banana and cherry and all. Oh well.

Lamenting Artistic Snobbery

This post is really for me to refer to in the times when I get all uppity that I am about to read/review a book that I do not consider "high" enough of literature for my Fancy Pants upturned nose.

These writers are human beings. And they're out there. And it's easy to criticize and moan that this is not what you'd recommend to someone, but they're doing what I am at times (most times, actually) too emotionally crippled and fearful to do: putting their work on the line. And they're doing a fairly okay job of it. People are buying their stuff. So far I haven't written anything that was not 100% free to readers who seek it out (though, let's be honest--can you put a price on art? yes, if you want to make it your livelihood. sigh.)

Admittedly, there are total whackos submitting their crap for publication all the time at any given time.

BUT, just like me and probably just like you, they're all out there living in this world where daily we must fight "the man" just to carve out an existence and the beat goes on.

Hmmm.

Quick Question About the Olympics

Seriously, is anyone watching these/does anyone care?

Maybe I'm uninformed since I don't really watch tv in its rawest form, but I haven't heard anyone talking about this. Also, I know this will sound stupid, but I didn't really realize that Torino and Turin are the same place. Much as I didn't realize that Florence was called Firenze until I was 16 and went there. In any event, it just seems like people used to make a big deal about the olympics. Gone are the days of Mary Lou Retton, Greg Louganis, Nancy Kerrigan/Tonya Harding/Oksana Bayul (sp) and even those decathletes that didn't win anything Dan O'Brien and Dave....uh, yeah Dan and Dave.

So be honest, do you care?

Pontificating About Cold Weather

Today is cloudy, dreary, humid and cold. And I love it.

Quoi?

Well, if you're not Erin, who somehow appreciates my special fondness for total crapster days, allow me to explain.

As anyone who knows me can avow, I'm pretty much cold at all times. In high school, I basically ran from the desk next to the radiator in one classroom to the desk next to another radiator in another classroom. Colorado was hell on a sensitive plant like me. Even in, you know, late August. It was a desert climate and even when it wasn't cold, I knew it probably would be soon and pretty much remained bundled in anticipation.

Now it is February, the coldest month in Houston (some might argue the only cold month in Houston, but hush now, please) and I'm feeling fine--but maybe just for today.

Two weekends ago, I met up with Team Jo(e) at Baby Barnaby's and immediately upon sitting down, I was ranting about the deception of a dry and cold day (I had previously ranted to the King of Feb. about it earlier also--it pretty much went on all day, actually). These dry, cold days are the biggest crapsters ever and Colorado had one right after the next. It's like people go outside, see the sun shining and not a hint of moisture and determine "it's a nice day," even though the crapster wind is going nuts, blowing your hats off, giving bursts of arctic freezation to your exposed extremities, chapping your lips and face and making you uber-thirsty. Plus, the temperature is like 15, but because the sun is shining right up in your grille, you feel hot and trapped in any type of warm clothing. These are the cold days that are sweet as pie to your face but talk bad about you behind your back. You know? And people LOVE them. They're the proletariat of weather. The "young marrieds with the too-many black and white photos and only white lights at Christmas and no we are NOT Jewish, thank you very much and here's a picture of me hugging my best friend from our sorority days" of weather. You know the kind. Everyone says they like them, but I'd be shocked if anyone actually did. (For the record, I do not like them and yes, I think my hateful obsession with a very narrow category of "young marrieds" might be the new teenagers that I typically hate.)

But a cold, humid day is kind of nice (HOT, humid day is something else entirely). It owns up to being somewhat of a bizard and kind of says "I know it's dreary, but here--have some nice moisture so your skin doesn't resemble that of Mick Jagger." And it's nice. It's like a person who knows she has some issues, but is in therapy and attempting to mitigate her harshness. This weather, to me, is the friend who is usually a little late, but always writes nice thank you notes and brings a thoughtful hostess gift or calls to say "hey I made you some cookies because I heard you mono" or sends funny text messages or loans you books you never know you'd like.And for whatever reason, on these days, I don't really need a heavy coat or gloves or all-weather protection. I just see it's about to rain and I zip up my hoodie and I smile that for once, the weather and I understand each other.

And that's a nice feeling.

P.S. Thanks everyone for your participation in helping Noonan's Natural Baby to be the best web site it can be!

A Favor For Noonan

Dear Readers,

As some of you may know, my sister "Noonan" has her own business--Natural Baby Supply. One way that my sister gets business is to have her site ranked higher than others who sell similar products and services. Those of you that can appreciate that Noonan offers superior baby products for those who want the best, or those who are just my friends (and haven't we shared a lot?) please visit her site here and vote for it! Go to the left hand side and click on the button that says "Top Cloth Diaper Sites." Then click "Enter and Vote." You'd really be helping her out and it only takes a second. Feel free to do this every day or as often as you remember. Her site is also linked to the right in my links section.

Proud to be the sister of Noonan,
MaryT

Introducing my new band...

Le Douchebag Ensemble just wasn't doing it for me anymore.

So I went to The Band Name Generator for some wisdom.

Behold:

Mary Womanconsultant and the Magic Douchebag Institute

Oh, Modern Love!

Happy Valentine's Day everyone-- my most awesomest holiday and celebration of all things pink, red and chocolatey. Mmm--delicious.

I have several prizes for you today.

The first is a modern love poem:

Roses are #FF0000

Violets are #0000FF

All my base are belong to you.

The second is this Valentine's Video, courtesy of my old favorite web performance artist Ze Frank.

Lots of love to you all,
MaryT

A Rather Pathetic Plea

Dear My Girlfriends,

Can you please stop moving away/being out of town so often, but mostly the moving away part? I neeeeeeeed you. My friend pool is becoming thick with dudes. I do appreciate their eagerness to fix my car or other major appliance and their ability to drink many,many non-flavored beers and other great benefits of knowing/spending time with them. But I miiiiiiiisss you. I want to wear pink stuff and eat candy and watch Pride & Prejudice and not feel overly self-conscious when I suggest that ABC Family Premiere movies (a la "See Jane Date" and "A Walk in the Park") are enjoyable. Please visit me more or something. I am heartsick for you all.

Noonan, Jo, Angela, Erin, Rachel, Meg, Jen especially, I have to quote My Big Fat Greek Wedding here: "Why you want to leeeeeave me?" To the ladies not listed: Why you no caaaall me?

Okay, that's all.

Love,
MaryT, who enjoys pink and red and the warm marshmallow deliciousness of girlfriends

P.S. To all the Matts and other dudes who are honorary Matts: see you guys soon. (sigh)

P.P.S. And if you're not going to hang out with me, can you at least update your blogs more often? Ahem, Erin.

Molehill Made Mountain

You know, I have many things on my mind this afternoon and literally the LEAST of them, all blogworthy, is this:

DEAR ABBY: I have been with my significant other for 15 years, and I would like a suggestion as to what I can do for this special occasion. We have always seen eye to eye, and she's the best thing that has ever happened to me.

In recent years we have been fortunate enough to travel our great country from coast to coast. We have done pretty much everything you can imagine, going out to eat, going to movies. I just don't have a clue about what to do for our 15th year of being together. Any ideas? Please respond soon. -- CHRISTOPHER IN MICHIGAN

DEAR CHRIS: I have a novel idea. Because she's the best thing that ever happened to you, why not propose marriage? And here's how: Tell her that since you have already traveled this great country from coast to coast, you think it's time you both went for a cruise on the sea of matrimony. I'll bet she'll be surprised.

And yet I can't get it out of my head. What is Abby's problem? I think the likelihood that marriage occurred to these two at some other point is very high. Clearly, either one or both of them did not want to. I am in favor of marriage for parties who are willing, but are people still hung up on the whole idea of "living in sin" and such as that? Is it just me or does this response seem extrenely didactic and preachy in just a few words?

Abby, I hate that I love to read your column because you are one major bizard.

When You're A Jet

You're a Jet all the way.

Thank you.

That which we call a bizard...

Note: KoF requested a new blog STAT and I just emailed Ms. Whit on this topic, so I thought I'd just parlay it into a long-winded jetstream of angry spittle.

So what exactly is the deal with really rich women having patronizingly stupid names? I mean wretched names that you wouldn't even jokingly name your dog unless you were a big jerk. Often, they are marginally sexual, oddly masculine, straight-up absurd or all three. When they introduce themselves as the platinum sponsor of some charitable association or you see them splashed on the pages of Paper City--you take a moment and cock your head.

"Yes, it would appear this woman is truly named Dickie Douglas," you say to yourself.

What's next? Fucky Fischer, gala chair? I mean, what in balls is going on? Boots? Foofoo? Davey?

No! For God's sake. No self-respecting heir to the family fortune wants to sign "Jizzy Vanderbizzy" on every contract for the rest of their lives. Name these women Margaret or Beatrice or something powerful, commanding and awesome.

Confidential to Noonan: what was the name of that Dallas Paper City superstar we liked to use for our Rummikub alias? Jan Strimple? Ha ha.

Why don't you just press 1 for me?

I miss answering machines from olden times.

For one thing, a lot of people have cell phone companies who insist on ridiculously long prompts, which you can't always bypass, before you can leave a message in their voice mailbox. Why? Why does it require 45 seconds to connect me to their voice mailbox? Is a little man running to connect my dixie cup string to the person's dixie cup string, like the little man who turns on the light in the refrigerator? I mean, I thought cell phones were supposed to be all advanced and yet, the messages seem to suggest that a person in 2006 has never encountered the wildly sophisticated voice recording device.

"You have reached the Sprint PCS voice mailbox of "Number One Bizard." Please leave your message after the beep. To page this person, press five*. To hear more options, press 347537465634857. Your call will now be directed to the voice mailbox. Speak after the tone. When you are done leaving your message, hang up or stay on the line for more options. Thank you for calling "Number One Bizard's" voice mailbox."

I mean seriously--is this necessary? People were already invoking the rather clever "this is a machine; you know what to do" in like...1987. That was nearly 20 years ago. I think we've gotten the hang of it.

*But let me just ask, what does the page option really do? I mean, the person already didn't respond to the ring, whether by choice or not hearing or unavailability. What does the page do? A super ring? "No seriously, they want to *TALK* to you!" Really? Yeah, I kind of got that from the fact that they called me!

And finally, why, when you call your voicemail or callnotes or whatever to check your messages--cell phone, work, home phone, you have to enter a prompt "to play your messages." Umm, wasn't calling my box a pretty good indication that I wanted to hear my messages? That is so annoying. Yes I want to hear them! Give me what I want! Stop with your electronic road blocks. No wonder modern people have such problems with hypertension. The shit is like a total roadblock to calm and centeredness.

I am going to go back to not having anything, or maybe one of those ones that breaks all the time and says the wrong time after your power goes out. At least there's less electronic talking. This is how I feel about the self-check at Kroger. I speed through as quickly as possible to prevent any superfluous explanation/talking from the "Wel.come... Kro.ger... Plus... Mem.ber." voice. That is so obnoxious. No matter how many times I do self-check, they still want to explain the steps. I'd say it's not necessary, but I was in line behind a guy about a week ago who looked totally paralyzed by the ingenuity of it all. He was trying to like stick his credit card in the cash return slot. No, Mr. Idiot. No. But in cases like those, clearly the voice prompts don't work. Here's an idea: bring back humans. I miss them.

Lots of love,
MaryT

Agenda Items

OR Crap I Heard on the Radio That Proves Clear Channel is the Fallen Angel Beelzebub

So I was on my little 4-6 minute commute this morning (can be up to 10-11 if West Gray is under construction or I am atypically un-aggressive. Rar.) and listening to 106.9 The Point (They totally don't deserve that free plug and in a minute, you'll know why). In that brief time, I heard *all* of this crapola that really needs to be bitchslapped, frankly.

1) "If you're getting married, remember before you do to attend the Brides Against Breast Cancer used dress trunk show for charity."

I'm not even going to get to what a shitty sentence that is. I just want to pose a question: what brides are not against breast cancer? For that matter, what person is like: "hey! breast cancer! alright!!!" ? In fact, who is downright cheery about any cancer AT ALL? "I have cancer? My mom/husband/dog has cancer? Woot!" No. No one.

I think one serious problem that has come out of the propoagation of fear and terror over the alleged enemy/weapons of mass destruction malarkey is that people believe that there IS always an enemy. Now, this is not really the case with cancer exactly, but some people just wrong each other so bad--like the Israelis and the Palestinians--that no one is really right and no one is really wrong. They're just two ideologies clashing and praying and clashing some more. There's no good guy and there's no bad guy. I would like to think this is why the U.S. funds them both--we're like "hey, it hurts to be in love...with Allah" or something. But seriously, no one is FOR cancer. Not even Al Qaeda. Unless they're for cancer for Americans, which I could see them being for. I wonder if the FBI will investigate me for saying Al Qaeda. Twice! But my point: there is no one bankrolling cancer. Well, not directly. But that's another post.

But back to cancer: no one is for it. Thanks.

To that end, if I ever get married, I would like to be a bride FOR breast cancer. No reason. Other than to justify this original organization. I mean, how long are people engaged that they need to join an organization and hold a charity show?

2) Heather Walters was advertising a 106.9 The Point cruise for listeners. Selling points, aside from hanging out with DJs who, thanks to Quick Weight Loss Centers turned fat lives into success stories and began living again? (bah!) You can apparently meet others who share your same enjoyment of these two profound interests: listening to 80s music and having fun.

Another question: who does not enjoy having fun? I would accept Edgar Allen Poe, but as I didn't know him, that's only conjecture. I think maybe the people that love cancer are also the people who hate having fun.

And furthermore, if I can't find a mate or a friend who shares my enjoyment of 80s music (though I would hardly call it a purely-80s mix considering I heard Matchbox 20 on there a week ago--hrrmmm--what say you?)--then FORGET IT! I'm moving somewhere like Europe, where the disco lives on, baby.

In conclusion, I love cancer. I hate having fun. And I wish you all an unhappy groundhog day.

Love,
Bizard