Are You Kidding Me? Part 200

If I were an angry person, I would already be in prison. As it is, I’ve already pulled out all my hair because of these STUPID questions I can’t answer.

I just moved all my insurance. I just paid for all my insurance. Now, I get a million pages of questions about said insurance which must be answered a year ago:

  • Number of amps in electrical system – The only amps I’ve heard of are on an electric guitar. 
  • Fuses: Yes or No – Yes, I have a fuse and it is getting shorter by the second.
  • Knob & Tube or Aluminum Wiring – I am not wired to give out this information even if I knew what the hell you are talking about.
  • Plumbing system condition – The toilets flush.
  • Open or closed foundation – My home sits on something; have no idea about the emotional state of my foundation.
  • Copy of burglar alarm permit – This one is so easy; in my city, you have to apply, and then they DON’T send you a copy. So you go online and request a copy. Which is impossible to obtain unless you are an accomplished hacker.
  • Aircraft on premises? – Yes, I live in a townhouse and I have a DC-10 in my garage. Doesn’t everyone?

I immediately phoned and emailed my insurance agent for help. HELP! Was tickled pink to receive the following message:

“Hi! This is your insurance agent!

 I will be out of the office until the 12th of Never.

If you need to speak to someone, call your mother. Have a great day!”

Am sure there are many women who know all these answers. I’m not in your club.

Must make choice now: move insurance AGAIN or self-immolation. Leaning toward latter.

Later.

Maybe.

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A Crock of …

 

I wish I had his shirt. Not his shit, just the shirt.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I’ll write. If you are coming late to the party, I absolutely DO NOT  nor have I ever had any interest in online dating. Soooo happy for all the happy couples who met that way. So glad it works for so many. So glad if you like lima beans. I don’t. And that is my prerogative. Online dating + me = NO FRIGGING WAY. Which makes the next part of this story ironic.

Stuck in the house like the rest of the country, I’m on the computer … a lot. Oh boy, here’s a free personality test. I love those, I mean, there is always room for improvement, right? It started out simply … no real names, interests, yada yada … and before I knew it, I was in a bait-and-switch operation, on an online dating site. Ok, screw you, scammers. So I filled in their questions with some real and many false answers.

  • Do you smoke? Constantly!
  • How many drinks do you have per week? Can’t count that high.
  • Education level? Forth fOrt fourth grade
  • Income? ( -$150,000.79) that would be negative
  • Favorite music? Appalachian garage bands
  • Your idea of a great date? Get stinking drunk, throw up on the beach, start drinking again, get arrested.

Then there was a spot where you had to write 200 words about yourself. I typed “Blah” until it reached the stopping point. No photo, nothing. Next thing I know, an email address I have reserved for “trash” is full of creepy “matches”. DELETE. And they just kept coming. DELETE x 30. Really. I assure you, with the information I provided, a man would have to be a psychopath to want to “chat”. Psychopath is so last year. Really.

Had to make all sorts of threats to the administrators of the site to remove myself. I never “joined” or paid a dime. So, my inadvertent and very brief experience with online dating was over before it ever got started. Thank God.

Today, Lady Di sent me an email. She has a precious friend in Arizona who does use one of those sites. The email included her friends’ new “matches”. I almost started crying for her and I don’t even know her. Never have I seen a more motley crew of Eeyores. I know it is shallow to judge anyone, especially by photo. But if these poor souls were putting their best face forward, well, it can best be described as desperate Photoshop situation.

If it’s not organic, I don’t want to play. Which brings many “tsk tsks” from well-meaning friends; the few who haven’t given up on me as a “hopeless case”. After my divorce, I was with a group of women and we were talking about dating. Out of eight, two of us were single. When I said  it was rather difficult to meet nice people, one of the women turned to me and said, “You had your chance and you blew it. That part of your life is over”. Meaning, because my marriage didn’t last, there was absolutely no reason to consider another relationship. Ever.

Hmmm. That comment knocked the wind out of me. I’ve made peace with her and her comment; I make daily peace with the fact that all circumstances indicate she’s right. At least she didn’t say, “Good things come to those who wait” or any of the other platitudes that do more harm than good. And this is the part where I say …. WHATEVER. Enough.

In the WTF department: just stepped outside to turn on a light and A BIRD SHAT ON MY HEAD. This is getting ridiculous. First my wrist, then my chesticle, now my head. Surely someone can find some meaning in this other than I am a bird shit magnet. Aggghhhhhhhhh!

Stay warm. It is colder here in Texas than it is in Alaska right now.

Later. Maybe.