Arguing with a packrat

Packrat: n. Any of several bushy-tailed rodents of the genus Neotoma of western North America; hoards food and other objects.

Also known as my mother.

I meant to write about this a couple months ago when my mother moved into her new house, but forgot about it until I investigated the contents of my digital camera.

Several years ago while living with my mom, I cleaned out a closet where we kept a large collection of books. I can't recall what prompted me to take on such a project, but in the process, I found a users manual for Microsoft Word 6.0. I don't recall what version of Word was out at that time, but I do know technology was well beyond the version for which I found this manual. I tossed the book onto a pile I'd started on the floor of books/manuals/etc that was going to end up kindling for the fireplace. (note: I'd never throw away a perfectly good book, I was only getting rid of things that no one would ever have a need for again, not even at the Goodwill store.) After completing my task of organizing the hundreds of books we owned, I went to gather up the trash pile and discovered that the Word 6.0 manual was missing. I didn't think much of it, and continued about my business.

Not long after, the manual mysteriously reappeared in the closet.

I asked my mother about it, realizing she'd scavenged it from the pile when I wasn't looking, and if I recall correctly, we ended up in an arguement about "packrats." I asked her to explain to me why on earth she'd need a manual for a program that was not only outdated, but that we didn't even own the installation disks for any longer. I mean, the installation was on floppy disks ffs! Hel-loooo, welcome to the world of CD's mom! She tried convincing me that even though there were new versions of the program out there, the old manual still provided lots of useful tips on using today's program... "I know it hasn't changed that much" she argued. I wasn't buying it. I told her that if she wanted to learn some more on how to effectively use one of the world's already easiestprograms out there, she ought to look at the manual that came with her new computer as the latest version of MS Word was on it. (I guess this would have been around 1998) With that, I snatched up the manual and personally walked it out to the trash can in the garage to make sure it reached its destination.

Approximately two years ago, we were cleaning the house thoroughly in preparation to put it on the market for sale, and I found myself once again cleaning out the book closet. The closet had somehow become a mess again, and a new trash pile had been started at my feet. Lo and behold, the MS Word 6.0 manual appeared hidden behind piles of Dean Koontz paperbacks! Rather than bring it up and probably start another arguement about it, I tossed it out quietly, certain that it would make it to the dumps this time. I should note that we had already been arguing about "packrats" during this extensive cleaning process due to all the other items laying about which were obviously of no use to anyone but my mother refused to let go of. This, and the fact that we hadn't slept much and tempers were running short led to a series of small arguements throughout the few days we worked on the house. But damnit, that MS Word 6.0 manual was surely going in the trash this time! We finished our cleaning, got the house on the market, and a few months later it was sold. I helped my mom move into the house she was going to rent while she searched for a place to buy, and thank goodness, the dreaded manual did not turn up.

Until now.

About 2 months ago, my mom finally found the house of her dreams, and I once again found myself helping her move. As I was cleaning out a file cabinet, I think I heard my mom quietly say "Uh oh." I asked what was wrong, and her face turned a bit red as she leaned past me to open one of the drawers I had not yet started on. And there it was. The damn MS Word 6.0 manual!! Covered in coffee and other unidentifiable stains, partially hidden beneath some old tax documents, but there it was plain as day! She admitted to having found it every single time I tried to get rid of it until she finally hid the damn thing from me knowing my reaction if I'd found it. We had a pretty good laugh, and I couldn't help but take a picture of it as evidence of one of the longest-standing debates we'd ever endured together.



Luckily, this time she gladly agreed to throw it away after having moved a couple times and learning that the less junk you own, the less junk you have to move. I tossed it into the garbage bag in the kitchen, glad to finally be rid of this plague, and we moved her into her lovely new home. She's not likely to move again for the rest of her life, and I have to wonder what bits of useless junk I'm going to find when the dreaded time of her earthly departure comes and I'm left in charge of caring for the house, but I can't help but harbor a quiet fear thatsomehow I'm going to stumble upon this book once more.

Should that happen, I will be sure to bury her with it.

Rant? Oh I think so!

Let this be a warning to you: NEVER BOOK A FLIGHT THROUGH TRAVELOCITY.COM!!! And here's why:

Last night I booked a trip to Boston and was quite happy with my reservation. I had great flight times, got to pick a window seat on every flight, and paid a pretty decent fare of $304. Today I got an email from them saying my flight couldn't be ticketed because they "needed extra information from me" (they didn't tell me why in the email) and they asked that I call their customer service department ASAP. So I immediately called to see what's up and waited on hold for about 40 minutes. Elevator music for long periods of time makes for some very unhappy people by the time they finally answer your call. I was a prime example, ready to put a hit out on every classical and jazz artist on the face of the earth by this point. I figured they had some trouble figuring out what to do since I used a check-card instead of a regular credit card this time, or some other mindless reason that would freak the call-center peons out.

Finally, a woman with a thick Spanish accent answers the phone and I could hardly make out what she was saying. I immediately remembered seeing a separate number to call if you spoke Spanish and wondered why she hadn't been assigned to that call center instead. But I cohersed her into speaking slowly for me, and proceeded to ask what the problem was. It turned out they didn't need any additional information from me, but rather they wanted to tell me that for some odd reason my ticket price had gone up to $440. I don't think so!!! I explained to her that they've already charged my account (yes, I checked this first thing in the morning to confirm that my reservation had gone through without a hitch) and that they can't go changing rates on people who've already paid. I also mentioned the term "false advertising" but I don't think the woman understood what I was saying. Completely irate and unwilling to deal with her any longer, I demanded to speak to a manager. She tells me that it was a very long wait to speak to a supervisor. Longer than I waited on hold to begin with? Shit - this was ridiculous! I mentioned that I'm guessing there was such a long wait for a supervisor because many individuals like myself have realized that their business practices are shit and didn't want to deal with the rude call center employees. Again, I don't think she understood a word I said.

While waiting on hold, I started checking other travel websites looking for other flights with a more reasonable price. Lo and behold I find one on the SAME EXACT FLIGHTS as my original reservation with travelocity.com and for a price of $308. Not bad... So I booked it and hung up after about 5 minutes of holding for a manager who probably would not have answered for another hour because I'm sure he was warned that he was going to get an earful when he took the call. Lucky for him I hung up.

I read the terms for this other online air ticketing company thoroughly to make sure they don't have any glitches like "We don't guarentee the rate we quote you until we actually ticket your trip, which we probably won't do because we want to raise the rates by $106 after you book" and luckily I didn't find one. They seem pretty straight forward, unlike this shady travelocity.com.

So chalk this up as another lesson learned in who NOT to do business with. Ever.

[/end rant]

In case you wondered

A satellite photo of mi casa, or more importantly, where my dogs prefer to deficate.

Useless crap wonderland

...AKA The Dollar Store.

Ahhh what a mecca of silly junk! That's not to say there aren't some neat and even useful things there (picked up a nice candle-holder for $3.99) but the vast majority of those stores deal in junk. Junk I felt compelled to photograph some of...

First, some weird baby-playing-with-his-wang statues:
(click for full size)



And here's a notepad and pen set, obviously made for the "working girl"... Look! It even says "Hussy" on it!



And here we have two examples of why the Japanese shouldn't write in English without spell/grammar checkers:
(you have to click 'em yourserf for large size to thrill you like do.)



And finally, a weird bobbing-head-dog-air-freshener for your car. And quite possibly the ugliest thing I have ever seen. Not even a Mr-T gold chain could make this thing cool.



And there you go folks, just a taste of some of the crap you'll find at the dollar store! I swear, that place is magic. Okay, maybe it's not magic. But it would take magic to convince your kids that any toy bought there was not crap or worth a better fate than a test-pilot for the uber-neat rocket kit any decent parent would buy their kid. So quit reading this and go to a real store ya cheap bastard!!! .....Unless useless crap is your bag baby, and in that case, this is your wonderland.

My version of creativity

Today I was looking for something in my glovebox, and came across a long-forgotten mangled doll head:



I guess this in itself needs some explaining. Ever since my first car broke down in highschool and I was forced to drive a piece of shit Chevrolet Cavalier with the roof rusting out, a distinct smell of mildew eminating from the floor, and a million other reasons to hate this machine, I decided that I was going to make that piece of shit as shitty as I could. So no happy little Jack-In-The-Box or 76 Gas antenna ball would do... No, those were just too cheery for this car. Since I had a Barbie doll head with a nail driven through it for a mirror ornament, I decided to stick with the doll head theme for my antenna as well. I went through several of these little gems, and unfortunately my favorite one got stolen. (it featured a blue mohawk) But the last one my Cavalier proudly donned through my first year of college found its final resting place in my glovebox, to lie dormant and at peace.... until today. I should note that this thing was actually clean when I got my hands on it. Those "dollar stores" are a great place to find cheap baby heads for mutilation, and this particular head had her hair colored black with a Sharpie marker, her eyes and mouth completely blacked out, and the word "CUNT" etched across her forehead. All this has sadly faded away with the exception of her lips and eyes, but c'mon, aint she still a looker!

Well, today I bought one of those hot glue guns and some fake sunflowers with the intention of making a little housewarming gift for my mother in her new house, when I figured I oughtta resurrect the beloved evil doll. So I decided to make myself a little key holder to hang by the door, since I'm always forgetting where I put my keys when I need to leave in a hurry. And look out Martha Fucking Stewart!

Just testing

Yeah, hard drive failures are a bitch. Especially when it's the hard drive your site resides on! So I've been working my butt off trying to get things working again, and by jove, I think I've got it! Just gotta run a couple tests and I should be good to go. (this is one of them)

Bling Bling (yo)!

Ok, I was in Hayward, CA yesterday driving down Mission Blvd. and I happened upon probably the funniest storefront I have ever seen. Need some gold teeth, perhaps with "Bling Bling" or maybe "Dolla dolla billz yo" engraved into them? Well shop no more! At Mr. Bling's your wish can finally come true! Come on in and let them fuck up your mouth forever! Yay!