Things That Might Only Amuse Me – Other People’s Bad Luck

So this past weekend, me and Mrs. HokieJayBee had some bad luck of our own. We learned that our second AC/heating zone at the back of the house downstairs had lost its ability to supply the house with comfortable air. Yeah, the combo AC/gas heat unit crapped out. The house was built in 1990, we bought it in 2004, but according to the manufacture date on the broken heat pump, it was installed in ~1993. So ~17 years of use out of a mechanical piece of equipment with electricity and natural gas running through it, that sits outside in the elements, I guess I can’t complain.

$4500 later, we have a new heat pump for our house’s second AC/heating zone. Now that’s bad luck? The sinking feeling you have inside when you realize something that’s very expensive that you own needs to be replaced. But it’s not bad luck in the manner of, getting ~17 years out of a piece of household equipment that’s designed to work for 12-25 years, depending on who you ask. Like, any day after ~12 years is a blessing right? So we had 5 years of good luck before the inevitable happened.

We didn’t have bad luck that it broke; it’s a necessity for the house. Bad luck would be if the new unit breaks 731 days from now. That’s 2 years + 1 day for those keeping score at home. I’m not even going to offer you a prize for guessing how long the full warranty is on the new unit. Not only is it not bad luck that this unit had to be replaced, it’s definitely not funny bad luck. Like the kind where something funny happens to someone you know, and they have bad luck that it happened and you point and laugh at them and their bad luck. No one I know is pointing at me for my bad AC/heat luck.

An example of funny bad luck? Like the guy from my old office who got shit on by a seagull, TWICE in two days on a group camping/beach weekend. If by some stroke of pure randomness it was the same bird, now we’re talking super-mega-mondo-funny. I can only assume it was a different bird, but either way, we pointed, we laughed.

An example of not funny bad luck? Same trip, different guy, lost his keys at the beach. No pointing, no laughing. Dude couldn’t drive home.

Anyone else I’ve recently laughed at their bad luck? Well, see, I’m a Washington Redskin fan. My Redskins suck. We couldn’t sniff the playoffs this year, or any others recently. But it hasn’t been all bad, because our bitter rival, the Dallas Cowboys haven’t had any playoff luck in the last 13 years either. In fact, until this year, they hadn’t even won a game in December or later for like 5 years. Even without division titles during that 13 year span, the Redskins at least managed to win a playoff game or two.

So, my Redskins have sucked hind tit for a while, but we had company in our misery, in the form of our bitter rival equally sucking late in the season(s).

Then this year happened. The #$@@#$&ing Cowboys won a December game. They beat the previously undefeated world beater New Orleans Saints. Then they won another December game. Then another. Then they won the NFC East Division. Then they got to host a home playoff game. Then they won that game.

Crap, America’s Team was back. They were hot. Their fans were up in arms. The media was getting on the train. The Cowboys were going to win it all! They’re the greatest thing since sliced bread!

On two separate trips by two different Cowboy fans in my office (note I work in VA), they attended the new Cowboy stadium in Dallas for games. They relished in the success of the Cowboys and the awesomeness of the new stadium.

This past weekend, the Cowboys had to travel to Minnesota to play the Vikings to advance in the playoffs. Although the bookmakers in Vegas had the Vikings as a slight favorite, most of America, to include all the major football media figures, had chosen the Cowboys to stay hot and win at Minnesota.

Then (thank God!), Brett Favre and the Vikings stomped a mudhole in the Cowgirls. Good, having to endure another week of hearing the media and Cowboy fans jibber jabber would have driven me to drink (more). The Vikings stomped them, 34-3, and even got a late touchdown passing when they could have simply run out the clock. Some of the Cowboys cried and complained that the big meanie Vikings were big meanies and didn’t have to score anymore. (I’m cackling as I type this, seriously crying in the NFL? If you don’t want them to score on you anymore Mr. Brooking, you and your 10 defensive teammates should have stopped them from scoring any of the 34 points you gave up. But I digress.)

As you can see, this story has turned into a good story to be a Redskin fan.

Then, we all come into work Monday morning. It rained where I live this past weekend. This is the post-rain-collapsed-ceiling above one of my co-worker’s desk. Guess what her favorite NFL team is?


Literal humor, raining on someone’s parade?
Is it wrong that this amuses me?

This Week’s Sign of the Apocalypse, and Other Useless Ramblings

I realize I had a couple-month spat there where I was pretty much only posting the NFL newsletter (or link thereof) and the occasional post. It wasn’t a matter of nothing to write about, but more of a time issue. Having to work, at work? Gasp! Shut up Brain. I meant a time issue in multiple dimensions. Like a double entendre? Yeah, but with two meanings. You’re dumb. Yep.

I wasn’t only not posting because I didn’t have time to write any novellas. It went the other direction too. You see, I was only trying to post when I had some big huge ginormo idea. I didn’t want to post little posts or waste any of the reader(s) time. I would only post when I had something I felt was big enough in both content, and length, to post. So I was trapped to not write short entries because there wouldn’t be as good as long entries, which I didn’t have time to write.

Which is stupid. It’s my little meaningless blog. Who cares if I post a one-liner on a theme-less little itty bitty nitty gritty titty committee blog like this? You see, there’s a constant nature to the crap running through my head. It’s a testament to my memory at all that I can get anything on paper to post to you reader(s). Did you tell them about the Post-It Notes on your desk? You just did. Yeah, I have random little “this could be a blog post one day” yellow stickies all over the damn place.

I’ve got all this crap to write about, none of which deserving of an entire post…….So, in a pallet cleansing effort, how about a smorgasbord post? Enjoy.

*This Week’s Sign of the Apocalypse*
The family and I hit up our local grocery last night. And I saw it. The epitome of American laziness. Because having to pour the milk, then squeeze the chocolate syrup, and *then* stir it too? Too much. When you can let some AA batteries do the work for you. Seriously, they have these near the dessert stuff at my neighborhood’s grocery. Yeah, because stirring chocolate milk is for losers.

*This Week’s Sign of the Apocalypse, Part Deux*
So I go to ye ol’ Google site to try and search for an image to use above for the auto-choco-stirrer. And I find this site, http://www.chow.com/stories/10184, and someone has written an entire article on other totally useless food-related-kitchen items. Holy crap. What is wrong with you people? I know some of you just ordered the mini-bagel-gloves. I’m ashamed. I also have to admit I never thought I’d be typing the words, mini-bagel-gloves together.

*Life’s Little Victories, FIRST!*
The sad sad state of a life I live? Heading to the work potty mid-morning, to find the light off, and everything still smelling fresh of the cleaning from the night before. Yes! I am the first ass to sit on this seat today! It’s still clean from last night! Totally don’t even have to wipe off the seat! I can just undo the 17 things at the top of my dress pants and sit! Victory. It doesn’t take long to lose this little feeling of victory as the first sitter though, my work’s toilets are filled with cold, deep water.

*Ok, I’m Lazy, But Not Won’t-Stir-My-Own-Chocolate-Milk-Lazy.*
I realized recently, typing an e-mail for work, that I haven’t hit Shift-I in probably 10 years. Damn you Bill Gates! Damn you to hell with your auto-correct. You have ruined me with your functions that automatically capitalize all my I’s when they need to be! You know you had to hit Shift-I to type this…..Shut Up! They get my point.

*Did He Just Say……*
The VP at my office that I report to is a good guy. He’s a smart guy, a good worker, and generally knows his shit. He’s not my direct manager (don’t really have one in my company’s structure), but oversees many projects here, including mine. I don’t really care to know where he went to school, or how many degrees he has, or anything quantitative like that – but I can safely say he’s an educated man and is a good VP. But he says some stupid shit sometimes. He’s got some sayings he uses at meetings, all the time:
- Vendor proposal, sent in. Reviewed by me or my engineers. Sent back to vendor. Vendor has questions or a new submittal, or even clarifications on the original submittal. “I need you guys to re-review it.” Re-review? Huh?
- Possible new job site information coming in. Maybe haven’t gotten any new information from the prospective client recently. “Any new news from ClientXX?” New news? What?
- Discussing an engineering firm we farm work out to, they are good at two-dimensional CAD work, but not at three-dimensional modeling. “We’re not going to use FirmXX for the isometrics. What they do do well is the P&ID’s.” They do do well? Gross.

*Products You Might Have Forgotten About*
Recently at the grocery store, it was soda-for-work buying time. And I’ll be damned if the Pepsi products weren’t $5.69 for a 12-pack (I’m a Mt. Dew guy). Ouch. So when that happens, I’ll settle for the Coke products (I can handle Mr. Pibb). Crap, they’re $5.69 too. What the hell is going on? I’ve never been a coffee drinker, and my office doesn’t have any fancy flavored stuff, can’t start now. I guess I’ll put up with the grocery store generic this time. You know, the “Mountain Lion!” or the “Dr. Perky!” stuff. Wait, what, $5.69 too?!?!? What the hell is going on?

Oh there’s one, $3.79. I’ll get a 12-pack of that. Cool. Royal Crown Cola. Yeah, RC Cola. Didn’t even know they still made it. I’ll gladly be the first to tell you there’s a reason it was cheaper than the generic, and why perhaps I had thought (hoped?) they stopped manufacturing it. Goat piss. Perhaps they *did* stop bottling it and my local grocery store put out some 12-packs they found laying around in the back. Goat piss.

*Movies You Might Have Forgotten About*
So lil HokieJayBee got a Wii for Christmas, and subsequently Daddy HokieJayBee got a new 50” plasma to plug lil HokieJayBee’s Wii into. You’re treading a line of innuendo there, Jay. Shhhh, not that Wii. So anyways, in purchasing the new 50” TV, we chose to sell our old 34” Flat Screen Tube TV on Craig’sList rather than carry it upstairs to be our bedroom TV. It’s 177 pounds and I just wanted it out of the house. Yeah, 177 pounds of TV. I hooked it up to a old DVD player in the front room so that I could demonstrate that the TV is fine to the potential customers that came to take a look at it. I grabbed the top DVD off one of the shelves in the tower to demonstrate the TV. What did I grab? The Matrix. Matrix 1, not that sequel 2 or 3 crap they put out. I hooked it up and started it up to make sure it worked so that I could demonstrate the TV when customers arrived. 45 minutes later Mrs. HokieJayBee wanted to know what was taking me so long to set up the TV………….

Really? You think about stuff like that?

Borderline TMI would like to take the next couple minutes of your day, and possibly gross you out. I know that I could probably go on a Googling binge and figure this out myself. Wait, Googling? I’ll take made-up-words for a thousand, Tribeck. But that wouldn’t be any fun. Not when I can post it here for you reader(s) and maybe gross you out, or maybe make you say, “oh that’s gross, I can’t believe you think about stuff like……..hey wait, where does it go?”

Or even for the simple pleasure of letting you all see more into exactly what is going on up here. You didn’t actually point at your head when you typed that, did you? Mayyyyyybe.

So, anyways…….a quick back story. Mrs. HokieJayBee is a teacher, at a public elementary school. Lil HokieJayBee, our 2 and half year old bundle of energy, attends a sitter’s house with four other children. These two variables add up to one simple constant situation. I’m always sick. Like, not sick-sick, not strep or bronchitis or anything serious, but just a constant daily life that includes congestion and full sinuses and a runny nose. More of an annoyance than a sickness. But from the months of October to February every year, I’m just near-kind-of-almost-congested sick. Neither of them get sick, or even hover around the near-kind-of-almost-congested sick like I do. I call them carriers. They have built up immunities to this constant congestion stuff and are just drone sponges that bring it home to me for the winter. Yeah science!

Side note: my biological father, my grandfather, and one of my uncles on that side have all had sinus re-opening, cleaning, widening surgery. Perhaps I could find a parallel here between that and the elementary school/daycare germs that I live with, and a lessened immune system for the winter months……but that’s not the point of this piece.

The point of the piece is that I live with a constant state of congestion all winter. Every winter. I’m used to it I guess. Now, without any Googling, I want to know where it goes.

I mean, I have a little constant sniffle and lately a lot of phlegm build up in my throat. At work all day, or even at home, one doesn’t realistically blow one’s nose on a constant basis, or cough and hack up the phlegm for a good loogie out the back door. It’s just not feasible for a person who lives in a constant state of kind-of-almost-nearly-congested sick, like I do. So, inevitably, one swallows it.

Wow, Jay. Deep stuff there. I guess problem solved? Shut up brain, you know what I mean; you help (hinder?) me with these kinds of thoughts all day.

What I mean is, where does it go?
Does the body digest it? Is it processed as pure waste to excrement?
Does the body process it? Like for re-use? It is after all a bodily product already. So some of it might be able to be used again. For the same function?
Maybe the body pulls the waste/anti-bodies out of the base mucus product and sends that to waste and processes the mucus for re-use?

I know it’s gross, but really, what happens to it?

Wait. What? (My bank is retarded edition)

I didn’t want to make a formal “Things That Bug Me” post on today’s topic, because in general I am very very very pleased. But after an episode this morning, I have to at least post something.

So, I’d like to talk about my bank. Doesn’t matter what the name of my bank is, I’m sure you’ve all dealt with a situation of your bank being challenged, regardless of where you handle your finances. The reason I’m not putting my bank on the list of things that bug me, is because they generally don’t. Today’s occurrences were either the work of one idiot person, or one idiot policy [which I guess is from one idiot person who ok’d it]. But either way, hilarity.

Background story: Ok, Mrs. HokieJayBee and I have a son. He’s 2 and a half now. We managed to do something right for a change, something mature and proper, and we started him an ESA when he was like 6 months old. [Education Savings Account] We put a monthly stipend into the account for him and hopefully it will grow to help us pay for his college in 16 years. It’s not a lot, but with 18 years to work with the interest compiling, we hope we’ll be ok. We ask relatives to chip in when they can, like on his birthday and Christmas. It’s all turning out to be a pretty boring story thus far.

The current story started this weekend, where I got a letter from our bank. It seems to be a standard form print letter, not written just for our case – but it’s still pretty threatening and ridiculously harsh. The basis is this. The ESA we have for lil’ HokieJayBee is essentially, at least to the banking world and the IRS, a modified IRA account. Which has special tax laws, or lack of taxes due, on the earned dividends in a formal ESA account. The letter is essentially stating that we are in default of an IRA account and owe 28% taxes and a possible $5,000 fine if we don’t properly file the account holder’s Social Security Number and/or Tax ID to the IRS and claim these dividends properly. Do what?

First sign for me that someone is not doing their due diligence to research what the hell they’re talking about in these threatening letters, it opened with:

“Dear [my son’s name]; [BANK NAME X] has made several attempts to contact you, the account holder, in regards to a missing Social Security Number/Tax Identification Number (SSN/TIN) associated with your IRA/ESA account #XXXXXXXXXX. Without this information…..”. So, first, I ask. Please define “several attempts to contact the account holder”.

He’s……………2. Did you try and call him? Did you call his cell phone or his work phone? I know he sometimes turns his cell off at the sitter’s as to not disturb the other children during nap time. And if you left him a voice mail, he is horrible at checking those. I’m always emptying his voice mail box for him. And after he ran up a large bill recently, we cut off his texting privileges, so if you tried to reach him that way, it might not have gone through. ……….Several attempts to contact the account holder……..my 2 year old son.

So, even if you want to defend the letter, and they meant me, the parent as the account holder, I can say that no they haven’t tried once to contact us regarding the IRA/ESA account, or his SSN. And, and, and…..we started this account at the end of 2007. And there would have already been two tax year events (January 1, 2008 and January 1, 2009) which would have required his “missing” SSN. So last year and back into 2007 and 2008, everything was fine with the account and the SSN and the IRS. Only now, the third year we’re hitting a tax year event (January 1, 2010) is there a problem?

Now normally I guess I’d just call the bank and try and politely decipher the problem with them. But this letter was all but rude. It’s very threatening and negative, and frankly I wasn’t in the mood to be spoken to in this manner or threatened over an issue at which I am not at fault. Especially the part about the fine being for a FELONY for perjury for avoiding/lying/misleading the IRS in regards to withholdings of dividends for my son’s account.

How am I so sure I am not at fault? Other than the vault of a near-photographic memory I am lucky enough to possess?

Because when he was about 6 months old, near the end of 2007…………is when I had to go get his SSN set up and get his SSN card,…………….SO THAT WE COULD OPEN THIS ACCOUNT. Because you can’t open the kind of IRA/ESA we did,………………WITHOUT A SSN OR TIN. Yeah. That’s why I was a little put off by the tone of this letter. Humor notes aside about them making several attempts to contact my 2 year old son.

So. To open this account, we had to get his SSN and card, or we couldn’t open the account. We filled out all forms and paperwork in a branch, in person. We survived two tax year events already without incident. And now suddenly there’s an issue with his SSN, his account, the withholdings, the IRS, and now threats of fines and felonies?

Ok, let’s duel. Standard letter mailing or not – you don’t just mail crap like this to your members without researching the problem.

So I call the bank this morning. Surprisingly only on hold for like 3 minutes after navigating the fancy menu, and I even got straight to the correct department. Hooray me, pressing 1 for English!

I get a very polite young lady, entirely too chipper for a Monday morning, and politely apologize in advance for my tone and demeanor, but I’m unimpressed with the handling of the issue thus far and frankly a little angry at the tone and threats in the letter. You all can imagine the next 5 minutes of the call as I explain to her everything I did for you above, about them ‘trying to contact’ my 2 year old, about how we already successfully navigated two January 1's without issue, about how I couldn’t start the account without the SSN, etc.

After some wrangling, she put me on hold to discuss the situation with her supervisor and came back with some lame excuse about department A not talking to department B within the bank and department B reports to the IRS and needed to get the information from department A and they must not have it from me and I need to go into a branch with my son (they need to visually confirm his existence?!?!?!?!?!) and fill out the paperwork to start an IRA/ESA, and then department A will forward it to department B and department B will forward to the IRS and I “shouldn’t” (her words) have a problem or be fined, and all future dividend earnings will not be withheld like the previous ones were being withheld.

Wait. What? Back up ma’am.
[1] Your two internal departments can’t talk properly, so that’s why I got a threatening letter and such?
[2] I have to go to a branch and bring my son to prove I have a minor so that I can open an account like this?
[3] I have to fill out the paperwork AGAIN to "start" an IRA/ESA?
[4] I “SHOULDN’T” have a problem or be fined????
[5] And all FUTURE dividend earnings will not be withheld like the previous ones were? You’ve been withholding my son’s account’s dividend earnings?

“Well yes sir, since your son’s account did not have proper SSN/TIN identification to be qualified for the tax-free IRA/ESA rules.”

“Yes it did.”

“No it didn’t, or you wouldn’t have gotten this letter.”

“Ma’am. Please define for me the process with which was required for me to start this account for my son.”

“Well, as I described for you now, you would have had to go to a branch in person, with your son, and present his SSN/TID card, and make an initial deposit.”

“So I couldn’t have started this account for my son had I not completed that task?”

[long pause]
[like, I didn’t talk. I was letting it settle in.]
[at this point I think I literally saw the lightbulb come on through the phone.]

“One second sir, let me speak with my supervisor again.”

[3 minutes]

“Please destroy the letter sir. We will notify the IRS of the situation and correctly file your son’s SSN with them for 2009 and all future year’s dividends. We will rectify any previously withheld taxes on the dividends earned and you will not be subjected to any future withholdings. You are also not at risk for any fines or felony charges. I do apologize for any inconvenience. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

[click]

One Step Further

Welcome back me. Long break over Christmas for me, lazy no bloggy time. But I'm back.

So I’ve already detailed for you in a previous post, the guy we’ve all worked with, the talk-in-a-circle-in-work-speak-phrases-guy. The guy who doesn’t do anything, or produce anything of actual value for your company – but sure can talk a huge nice game, and it sounds like he’s busy at something.

Today I wanted to detail for you another guy that I work with, and maybe you can relate.

I like to call this guy the one-step-too-far-guy. He can take any situation – work related, personal related, no matter who is in the conversation – and essentially ruin it. He takes jokes too far, he takes criticism too far, and basically just creates a multitude of awkward situations for everyone involved. I admit that I find it funny a lot of the time, just watching people react to him, and the looks he gets when he exits, if for the sake of justice or the oh-my-God-there-is-a-God-he-finally-left faces people make behind his back.

This kind of individual is similar to a one-upper-guy. I know you all know a one-upper-guy. He has something to interject into any story anyone is telling. He’s done it better, longer, harder, stronger, faster – than you. Or he knows someone who has. He basically has a one-up, or more knowledge about any subject, than you. And he’s not afraid to tell you about it.

Example of a common One-Upper-Guy:
(for those scoring at home, this is a made up example)

Me: “Me and the family headed to [CITY X] for Christmas this year. Traffic wasn’t bad at all, we made it in like 4 hours. Which was good with the pups and our 2-year-old.”
One-Upper-Guy: “Pfft, I’ve made that drive in 3 hours.”
Me: [long awkward pause] “grats?”

So, the one-step-too-far-guy is similar to the one-upper-guy, only a lot of times his one-upping is just…….one……..step………too……….far. Sometimes he says things in situations that we we're all thinking, but due to the situation or people involved, would never dream of saying. Sometimes he just flat out says some whack ass shit.

Examples:
(all accounts are paraphrased for brevity and the names have been changed to protect the innocent.)
(yes, these are all accounts I’ve witnessed or been a part of the conversation, none of this is made up.)
(I swear.)

---“Keep Your Day Job.”---
Setting: Big Conference Room, many big important people.
Big Boss Man X: [during a work speech tries to break the ice with a joke, a not funny joke]
Employees: [laugh, forced]
Big Boss Man Y: [who has the authority and company standing, as well as personal friendship, to say this to Big Boss Man X] “Ha, better keep your day job [Big Boss Man X].”
One-Step-Too-Far-Guy: “Yeah, because that wasn’t funny. You’re not funny. You should never be a stand-up comedian.”

So, you see now what I mean with the creature I describe as the one-step-too-far-guy. Good.

---“You look tired.”---
Setting: Employee D’s office, random work morning.
D: “Man, I am beat.”
Me: “No sleep last night?”
D: “Yeah, I was up way too late night watching [TV SHOW X/SPORTING EVENT Q].”
One-Step-Too-Far-Guy: “Yeah, when you’re tired, you look old too. You look like crap today. No offense.”

---“I’d hit it.”---
Setting: Employee G’s office, random work day. Employee G is female.
G: “I cannot stand my hair. I need another cut but I need the bangs to grow out first. Uggh, I hate it.”
Other female employee in conversation: “Awww, it looks fine. It looks really good when you straighten it and wear it layered rather than pulled back.”
One-Step-Too-Far-Guy: [walking by the office, like not even really in the conversation] “Pssssssh, you’re still hot. I’d hit it.”

---“You know she’s 16 right?”---
Setting: Group conversation, office kitchen. Attractive young [young!] girl walks by.
D: “Whoa, who was that?”
Me: “Watch yourself, I think that’s [Employee L]’s daughter.”
D: “Whoops, I think you’re right. She’s like 16 isn’t she?”
Employee L enters the room, now in conversation.
D: “Hey L, your daughter here?”
L: “Yeah, brought me my lunch, she just got her license.”
One-Step-Too-Far-Guy: “Driving? Alright, so she *is* 16. Only two more years and I can make my move, she’s so hot.”

And my personal favorite….

---“It’s pronounced Muh soose.”---
Setting: Group conversation, office kitchen. Males and females in conversation. Employee A rubbing his neck, grimacing.
D: “Morning A, what’s wrong?”
A: “Hurt my neck playing basketball last night.”
D: “Like pulled a muscle, or need a doctor? Or just need to get a professional massage?”
Me: “I’ve gotten one before. Worth it.”
A: “Nah, too expensive. I’ll just rest it a week.”
One-Step-Too-Far-Guy: “Too expensive? I love getting professional massages. Only I call ‘em Rub and Tugs!”

[awkward pause, whole group]

One-Step-Too-Far-Guy: “What, who doesn’t want a happy ending?”



One.
Step.
Too.
Far.