Why I Love to Travel--Flying Addition

*The friendly skies
Complete with the "we're saving money so there's not even peanuts available on a 5.5 hour flight" and the "we may charge you for baggage...but there's not not enough room on the plane to actually carry on more than your purse."
Extends to the crying children that the parents forgot to drug, and the obnoxious people that inevitably sit in front of all 6'4 of Hubby and then lay their chairs back with a surprising bang. You know, Hubby and I don't lay our seats back...and the last time I thought about it, I checked to see who was behind me before I did in case they were tall.

*The incredible magic shrinking chairs.
I'm sure it has nothing to do with the expanding size of my rear end...especially after a 7 night/8 day cruise where I ate non-stop.

*Airport Security.
I'm sure I'm more secure now that my luggage has been checked by USDA--but not the open bag nor the purse I could have carried something in. I'm also sure I'm more secure now that I've shown my ID to one person and then my boarding pass to the guard less than 10 feet away and to another guard less than 5 feet from the last guard that is immediately in front of the xray machine and then finally to the guard on the other side of the metal detector. Seriously, this was the way we got through the airport in San Juan to come home. I also got to do the walk with my pants around my ankles because my metal belt set off the alarm--but Hubby's belt did not. And the buckles are the same size.

*In Flight Movies.
Is there anything better than watching CBS Eye on America on __________ before and after a seriously cheesy movie? I think not. I have now seen all the shows I have avoided and learned that there was a good reason I avoided them. Anybody out there seen "The Big Bang?" Enough said.

*The Delay Announcement
"We're delayed here folks due to a mechanical error. Once we figure it out, we'll get you on your way." Great. We'll locate the problem and then we'll ship you out of here on the same plane. It took an hour to locate the problem, and only 10 minutes to check the problem. So I could have sworn I heard every little bump, squeak, squeal, moan, etc. that plane made as we taxied down the runway and lifted off.

Have I mentioned I'm sure I'm going to die in a plane crash?

We obviously survived the flights to and from San Juan. Lots more to come about the cruise and how I woke up after 30 years on this Earth and was still alive! Some highlights to come include the birthday morning surprise, drug dealing Caribbean style, animals both on sea and...well, technically on sea again, and how to enjoy all of this while burnt to a crisp!

Call me Sarah

Apparently, "90210" isn't the only thing that's around to make me feel like high school should still be going on. Neither is the sudden reappearance of NKOTB. Nope, gather a group of women together to plan an event, and all Hades breaks loose.

We're hosting a convention next June. I'm supposed to be a co-chair...although for some bizarre reason there are three co-chairs. This is a little over the top to me. Anyway, the "head" co-chair (which, really, if there's a "co," doesn't that mean that we share the same duties?) really wants to be the main head honcho, and I've been happy to let her run. We had some meetings, and I told her back in September about the baby, and assured her that it wouldn't interfere with my responsibilities. I mean, I have Hubby, it's not like I'm a single mother that won't have anyone to watch the baby. There are just shy of 60 of us women in the group hosting the convention, and apparently, just because you leave high school, doesn't mean that you can leave the drama behind. Nope, it's obviously innate in us that we all try to be the most popular, the one with all the news, the center of attention, the first to spread gossip, and the MOST IMPORTANT.

Seriously, I am the baby of all the women in all the chapters. I turn 30 next week. I don't need to be any of the above. If I can be a mature, responsible human being, what the heck is wrong with the others?

Our chapter needs to be the MOST IMPORTANT. That means we've seriously over-extended ourselves as a chapter and are doing a million things for the convention. None of this was discussed with the chapter--one or two or in one case, five, ladies made the decision without involving the whole group. And now we're all stuck, at a time when we're our busiest trying to support our sister with brain cancer, fundraise for her and organize the largest local Adopt-A-Family project in the community. Plus, our chapter had another large responsibility to all the other chapters before the convention was ever even a twinkle in our eyes. And I don't get why we feel like we have to do it all ourselves. I also know that because we made a commitment, we need to follow through. And yet, our need to be the MOST IMPORTANT is interfering in our sisterhood. This is crap.

The co-chairs besides me have butt heads for a long time. I'm usually in the middle, and it was not getting any better. However, apparently, in an effort to be the center of attention, one of them has allegedly decided to tell others that she thinks I cannot or will not handle my duties as co-chair. And in the others' attempt to stop it before it becomes gossip, they told me. So I called her on it. I mean, let's get real, it's not the time to nit-pick or pussy-foot around. Either you said it or you didn't, and let's have it, and move on. This, too, is crap.

And then the other ladies have decided to get involved, and apparently are calling others, who are then calling me to see what the story is, if my caller id is any indication. I'm ignoring the messages for now. Isn't this business known as gossiping? I thought that sisterhood was bigger than gossip. This is major crap.

As if there isn't enough drama in my life, I'm apparently not able to have a life of my own unless I get it cleared by everyone. God forbid I try to finish the home study for the baby. And heaven help us all if I dare to take a week off for a vacation. Even worse, how dare I plan to attend the birth of my daughter? I should have waited for written permission from all 60 people to be sure that my personal life was approved to coincide with the convention plans.

The convention isn't even for another 7 months. I don't think the world will fall apart if I leave for a week (well, it's more like 2 because I'm being shipped off to training tomorrow for 3 days and then it's Thanksgiving). However, apparently my decision to leave town for training and then for vacation has pissed off some, allowed others to make decisions for me about me, and had others decide that I'm not really important enough to be involved in meetings that can't wait 10 blasted days.

My mother must have been wrong when she called me Sarah Bernhardt...I'm nowhere near dramatic enough...I think others are giving me a run for my money.

There's No Place Like Home

After the baby died, there was another tragedy in town that I had to work. However, I've now made it through a couple of rotations where nobody has died a tragic or traumatic death. In fact, nobody has died on my shift in about 3 weeks. This is good. It's been long enough that while I'm still remembering the important things in my life, everyday irritants are coming back.

I'm tired of living in a construction zone. It's a million degrees outside, and nobody but the millionaires have air conditioning in their homes in Podunk, so all my windows are open. All I hear are big trucks.

Yesterday I dragged myself home and tried to go to sleep. The construction was beginning before my head even hit the pillow. I was then fortunate enough to have workers hollering back and forth at each other (before 0800 I might add). To top off my morning, as I was finally drifting to sleep, the County began beating on my door. I dragged myself down the stairs (after fighting off the puppies that wanted to go to the door with me) and flung open the door to greet someone with my hair sticking up in interesting positions, my pajamas slightly twisted to one side and my eyes barely open. The man wanted to trim my trees. Then he wanted to cut down my trees. I finally said to him, look, bucko (okay, I didn't really call him that), I just got off a 12 hour graveyard shift at the police department. He says, oh, so you're tired? Can you be any slower to catch on????!!! I said cut down the bleeping trees (again, I didn't really say that). Then I had to wait and listen to the chainsaws.

This morning my neighbor began calling at 0700. I had finally gone to sleep at 0300. I call her back and she proceeds to share that she's coming over so we can discuss terminating the condominium. I'm again, in my pajamas. I did brush my teeth for her. She then tells me she wants to file this today with the County Clerk. So I have to put on clothing over my non-showered-non-hair-washed physique, go to the bank where I HATE going inside, and obtain a notary seal. I understand that nobody will secure a home loan for a condominium in Podunk right now, but that's really her problem and not mine, and I just wanted to sleep late and then take a bubble bath and shave my legs that haven't been shaved in over 2 weeks. They resemble a forest, and any day bugs would take up residence. But whatever, I'll help her out.

Now the doggone dog won't stop licking my finally shaved legs. The other dog keeps climbing in my lap because since I'm up it must be play time. The construction workers are using beautiful language at tones that are carrying throughout my house. The neighbor is beating on her walls. And I really just want to go to bed, but I still have a meeting that I said I could be at no problem because I was planning to sleep until now.

I wish I had ruby red shoes and could chant "there's no place like home" but I am home.

Barbies' Common Courtesy

So the last two days have been filled with conspiracies to make me go off the deep end. Every little thing that would normally cause me to flip my lid, blow my gasket, whatever the saying, seemed to pop up within a 48 hour period.

I've been used to having the whole building we live in to ourselves. For the past four or five years, we really didn't have immediate neighbors in the unit next to ours. The few that did venture to live there really weren't that noticeable--well, other than last summer when a construction crew rented the unit, partied every night, yelled at each other, trashed the yard with broken beer bottles, and left cigarette butts every where. So anyway, long story short is that the unit was foreclosed on and sold to a couple from another town--the couple that wanted to tear down our nice, brand new fence. I got home yesterday to discover that they had erected a four foot high post in the dirt patch that sits between our units, attached a piece of lattice work to create a "fence" and had covered the sewage clean outs with small rocks. It looks nice, but they did not get our permission to erect the thingy, and I'm not sure we would have agreed to the covering of the clean outs. We have this ridiculous Condominium Association, and it has bylaws and declarations and the whole nine yards. I know that the new owners have the documents--I gave them the documents. Would it have killed them to ask us our thoughts? What happened to common courtesy?

So onto the next units. They too were foreclosed on and sold. The new owners there are trying to better the property--YES! Someone else to help foot the bill that we've been paying!--and have made numerous changes--asking for permission along the way. They have a contractor that's doing a good portion of the work. Hubby had gotten permission from everyone to put up these solar lights to light the pathway. Not a bad idea, especially since some of the steps are crumbling. The end units and their contractor have managed to bust two lights. The first busted light, the owner confessed to, and we said no big deal. The latest busted light the contractor put on the porch of one of the units and has not said one word to us. If we had busted something of theirs, we would have mentioned it. What happened to common courtesy?

After discovering the trouble with the neighbors, I opened a credit card statement and nearly had a heart attack. In April, I attended a direct sales shopping moment, and purchased over $300 in clothing. The show was on the 27th. In May, I discovered that the credit card showed the same charge by the same company on the 27th and the 29th. I had contacted the consultant--I used to be a direct sales consultant and hated when the customer contacted the company without giving me a chance to find the problem, and I wanted her to know I appreciated her as a consultant--and the consultant said that she was on vacation, and couldn't look into it until she returned. When she returned, she e-mailed me that the company only saw the charge once, and didn't know why it posted twice and suggested I contact the credit card company. I did contact the credit card company, and they reversed the second charge while they researched the charge. The direct sales company then closed their doors. Sure enough, on this month's statement, I see where they reinstated the second charge. Never mind what my receipt says. Never mind that I only got one shipment of clothing. Never mind the little person got screwed. The credit card company never sent me any notice that their investigation was complete or of their findings. I tried to call, but the wait was "eight minutes or more," and after 10 minutes, I had to be at an appointment. I fired off an e-mail to the credit card company. I have heard nothing. What happened to common courtesy?

Finally, we had to go to Albuquerque for a doctor's appointment. Then I had to get blood work. We cleared the hospital at 4:00, and I have to be at work at 6:30. We live exactly two hours from the hospital. The fastest route is I-25 home. There was major congestion on I-25. No traffic accidents, no construction, no reasonable explanation for the 45 miles per hour drive from Albuquerque to Bernalillo. After we cleared that, we had maybe 10 miles before the speed dropped again. And then there was construction. Here's what really got me--it is apparently every New Mexican's God-given right to drive in the left lane. Never mind all the posted signs about slower traffic keep right. If you want to drive at 30 miles an hour LESS then the posted speed limit, please, by all means, drive in the left lane. It's against the law to pass on the right, so the rest of us will just plod along behind you. What happened to common courtesy?

When I was a child, I would sometimes picture mankind as barbie dolls. God would bend our legs, dress up, make us walk, everything little kids do with barbie dolls. I pictured Him pushing around cars on a track, just like Hot Wheels. I saw Him placing buildings around a map. However, I never imagined that God would allow us to be so doggone rude to each other.

What a Joke

Suffice to say, I'm back from Baltimore and my grandmother. Lots to post about that, but I'm afraid that tonight I've hit my limit of ridiculous voting crap. Advance warning--I'm so put off that I can't spell right or even come up with the proper words...I'm sputtering.

Each election year, the public is berated with negative ads, endless debates, guilt inducing lectures from celebrities-that you wonder when they figured out how to find a poll-about how important it is to vote, and headlines that are nothing but promises made that will never be held. Let's start at the beginning of my complaints, shall we?

Negative ads are a serious waste of campaign dollars. What happened to the days when a person stood for something, the days when a person held a belief so passionately that no matter what happened, the belief remained true? Anybody can take a part of another's life and spin it negatively and call someone a scum bucket or whatever...how many of us have a part of our lives or something we've said any number of years ago that won't come back and bite us in the arse? I only know one man that was perfect, and He walked on water. Tried that lately? Further, it's asinine that the Democrats are so nasty to each other--they're in a prime spot, it's been predicted that they will win the Presidency, so wouldn't you think that while they're grumping about how this nation needs a leader that will bring the country together they could try to get along? Actions are way, way louder than words, and I want you to put your actions where your mouth is.

Endless debates are pointless. Only questions that are preplanned and that everyone's heard the answers to repeatedly are asked. I think the last debate that intrigued me was not really a debate but when MTV asked Former President Clinton (this would be Bill, not the other Former President Clinton that's running again) about smoking pot and his underwear. Who knew then that his answers would continue to resonate for years to come (I smoked but didn't inhale:I had oral intimacy with that woman but didn't have sexual relations--he had a way "around" everything).

Guilt inducing pleas from celebrities (by the way, if an actor can change my beliefs and my concerns then I really don't believe that I should have the right to vote--I firmly believe that every voter should have to prove that they are capable of their own thoughts...that's why I'm so against straight ticket ballot options) are ridiculous because you see them "stumping" for
someone and then on an ad for the candidate, but hardly any of them are photographed outside the polls.

Enter tangent here--what's the point of voting for a primary anyway? If you have the privilege of living in New Mexico as a Republican, it's all decided for you before you have the chance to vote (Republican primaries are in June). Not to mention that I've barely gotten home from a poll when the news stations are already declaring a winner...sometimes they're declaring a winner before I've gone to the polls. You want to induce confidence in the voting process? Have a nationwide primary election, not a million individual primaries. Don't declare a winner until all the polls are reporting and you have every vote in. Heck, let's get crazy and actually let the public chose the candidate for the office instead of having the "popular" vote and then the vote that really counts.

Headlines that are filled with promises that will never be kept used to amuse me. It's a different world when you're at the top. Suddenly you realize that "Read my lips" becomes "holy cow" when you're faced with reality. Why can't we all just be honest about certain issues? Congress will continue to raise taxes. Illegal immigrants will continue to find a way to enter this country. Those that don't work will continue receive more benefits that I ever will garner. Social Security wasn't built to handle the population we have now but I'm still going to have to pay into it knowing I'll never receive it.* Health care will be a joke as long as there are HMOs sucking up my paycheck and denying every claim I make--but God help me if I try to get health care assistance without an HMO or similar plan. I will never know what those I elect into office do unless it's something like declaring the official food of my state chips and salsa because that's the only headline that comes out of a session in Congress while they're too busy to hear things like the fact that emergency personnel need to have a shorter retirement period because literally years of our lives are taken due to the stress we handle.**

I vote because it's my right to vote. I vote because I'm afraid they will take it away from me when enough of us don't vote. I vote because I believe in the fundamentals that this country was founded on, and I pray that some day somebody that remembers what it was like to passionately love other people and to want others to have the same undeniable rights that we as Americans have will make it past all the bull hockey. And I know that this will only happen when we return this nation to God.

And yet every time it's time to vote, I have a little voice in me saying "ha ha ha--you know this doesn't count for anything." When does the punchline change?

*In the interest of full disclosure, I don't participate in Social Security anymore. My employer has an alternate plan, and by working through this employer, I have forfeited my "credits" into Social Security.

**There are actually studies that show this, like studies by Universities and Colleges. I have access to many if anyone else out there cares. And Police Officers, Fire Fighters and Detention Officers all have shorter retirement periods...it's just us dispatchers left in the cold in this state.

PhD. in Frustration

So you wander into work a whopping 2 minutes before your shift begins. I've had one of the longest shifts known to mankind, thanks to a major power outage with temperatures dropping below 9 degrees and a million old folks living in a tiny community. I'm dying to go home--one more call about what am I going to do to fix the temperatures/turn on the power/open an emergency shelter/handle other calls to those who are stupid enough not to know that half the town is without power and therefore all the pipes in the powerless part of town are about to freeze and nobody will make it through the night due to the cold, and I'm going to tell everyone just how much I really DO NOT CARE about their problems unless their lives are in serious immediate danger. I have spent hours holding hands, reassuring the elderly that we love them (and I normally do), trying to interpret weather forecasts, being yelled at by almost every citizen because I'm not the electrician myself, fighting with the utility company about how long this will last, arguing with the Emergency Management Coordinator about what his job entails, and preparing for emergency shelters and door to door evacuations of around 10 streets and up to 100 homes, just to have the night end with you meandering through the door sighing like your life sucks.

You stare at me as I answer another call for service at the exact minute your arse is supposed to be in the seat answering the phone, but since you didn't show up in time for me to log off, I'm the only one who can answer the bleeping phone. You can't believe I won't get out of your way. I finish the call, dispatch an officer, and try to brief you.

You announce that you don't know what I'm talking about, and then ask questions that had you a)shown up in time to be briefed or b)listened as I briefed you (in between phone calls, radio traffic, and trying to get out of your way), you'd know the bleeping answer to without me having to repeat everything twice.

You throw a fit because you and I are scheduled for training 6 weeks from now and may have to share a hotel room--not a bleeping bed, but a freaking ROOM--for 1 night and threaten not to go to the training. I want to say "good, don't go." You then proceed to tell me that I don't know when MY licenses expire or when MY certifications are in danger when you're the moron without a clue. I've been the blasted one in charge with keeping track of everyone's licenses, certificates, schedules, OT, training. I'm not an idiot. We're ranked the same. You are no better than me. I know my crap forwards and backwards and inside out. In fact, the mere fact that you apparently are threatened that I MIGHT know more than you should indicate to you that I'm not an idiot.

And you wonder why I understand when other people get frustrated with you? Holy crap. This isn't rocket science. But if it were, today I'd say I earned my PhD.

Holiday Spirit

You know how people are always saying "in the spirit of Christmas" or something of the sort? Here's my horrid thoughts on it this year.

We took my parents to see "Christmas in Dublin," a show in Albuquerque that was to feature the Three Irish Tenors, the Irish Divas and maybe something else...I can't really remember any more. The day started with the long drive down, which we did separately because I of course had to go into work immediately following the show (although it was my day off--this is an increasingly common theme). This meant that we had to go to lunch with the 'rents instead of dinner with them, and we didn't get to invite my brother to join us because lunch is WAY before his waking hour. So we go to lunch (I of course have had 2.5 hours of sleep because I worked extra the day before), and then we head off to the parking structure. My parents drive a bug...a little electric blue Volkswagen. They were directly behind us. Hubby zips into a parking space, and Dad takes the bug the other direction and throws it into reverse to back into a spot one up from us. As the reverse lights come on the bug, a huge donkey (of course that's not really the word I want to use to describe him) in a large sedan pulls up and goes into the spot that Dad was beginning to back up into. Never mind that all over the parking structure, other New Mexicans with an ounce of common courtesy are waiting for other vehicles to back into the parking spaces as Dad was intending to do because it makes it much faster when it's time to filter out of the spot if you can just pull out into the line. Anyway, Hubby has gone to get the tickets from the office, and Donkey says to me "Wonder who gave that guy his license" referring to Dad who is now trying to back up into the spot next to the large sedan Donkey has parked ONE THE WHITE LINE (and that drives me nuts--even if Donkey hadn't already just shown terrible driver etiquette, he would have teed me off with the parking on the white line). So I say sweetly to Donkey "THAT man is my father, and he was reversing into the spot you just raced into." Donkey doesn't even look ashamed. Donkey's wife is trying to unload Grandma out of the back seat with the door flung open into the spot Dad is now trying to back into. Donkey's wife is glancing at Donkey and I and shaking her head as if the whole dilemma is Dad's fault. Here's another thought--we were like 35+ minutes before the show even was scheduled to start. It's not like an extra 5 minutes would have made anyone late for the show.

The other issue is that my family motto is "don't get mad; get even," so Dad comes raring out of the bug (he's 6'2 and I'd guess around 350 lbs., so take a minute to picture this climbing out of a bug) and is ready to charge the Donkey and his family. I too am mad, but then it occurs to me that Grandma had a walker and we have handicapped seating inside the theater, and what if we now have to sit next to Donkey? I was in total fear of this possibility--but that didn't happen. What was the point of holding onto the anger really? Everybody attending had spent good money for the show, it was about Christmas, and it was lovely. I guess the whole incident had me thinking that common sense and courtesy has totally escaped the world and I don't know why. And I'm having a hard enough time feeling the love of the season (let me be clear--I love the Reason for the season, and I know He loves me and I'm not doubting that--I'm doubting the rest of humanity) without spending my fun family holiday time with a Donkey and his attitude.

Of course my terrible thoughts about the holiday spirit are that really the world has changed more into what can I get and not celebrating the birth of my Savior. I'm almost over the Santa Claus thing--I think he's pretty cute, and while my children will never wait for gifts from him or sit with him, he can be a fun thing like the Coke Polar Bears are a fun thing. To me, Christmas is about 1st) the birth of Christ; 2nd) time with family and friends; and 3rd) Christmas letters and cards.

I love getting Christmas letters because let's be honest, I like to see what everybody else has been up to, and these letters are the perfect brag time. There's almost always a common theme, and when I write a letter/posting, I feel that I have to do the same thing. Sentences are always such as the "We traveled the whole world twice and are ready to embark on our third trip"; "we've adopted a third world child and have singlehandedly rebuilt a village in her honor;" "little James has completed college at the age of 4 and is beginning medical school next year;" "we have built our new home and it is called the Taj Mahal III;" "Hubby has promoted so much that he's now known as Lord and Master instead of just Hubby at work;" and pictures of everybody's too cute for words children are always included. I love to see the children--I've always loved kids. I love to hear that others are achieving their goals and that it's been a good year for them. I joke with my mom that I may just borrow a line from everyone else's Christmas letter and send it out as my own, because I think my life is truly too boring to be relayed. If I had kids, maybe I'd have more fun stories. I don't know. In all honesty, when I start to write a letter, it occurs to me that there is so much else that we should have been focusing on throughout the year, and ways that we should have been spending our time, and then I get bummed, and then slowly and surely the spirit sneaks out of me bit by bit.

You wouldn't know that this is my favorite time of year by the way I've been feeling/acting this year. I guess this post is a definite example of that. I've been assured by many of my officers that the best way to get into the holiday spirit is with "spirits" (you know, Jack and Jim), but I'm hoping that it's more like when I see my family and friends, the true meaning of Christmas will wrap me up and propel me to a happier mood. And I hope it also promotes a better attitude towards Hubby's family that in going on 10 years with Hubby I've been yet to find. If it doesn't, you'll see a spirit of fire about me on the 26th :)

Happy Holidays!

I Never Make Mistakes

I had the privelege of taking the car into be serviced today.

I'm very proud of us--we've been very responsible with this car. Normally we just pay the loan on time and ignore everything else about a vehicle. Ok, so that's what I do--Hubby pays attention to the oil changes and when I gripe about a noise/tug on the wheel/etc., Hubby will figure something out. I was trained at a young age to take care of vehicles--most of my memories of hanging out with my dad involve learning about carburetors and changing brakes. My earlier cars gave us chances to bond over replacing numerous starters and just about everything under the hood of an '85 Pontiac Sunbird (that's right, a sunbird--I was cool with the grandma car until it just stopped running). I have no idea why I'm so lax about it now.

So with this car, (which has all the bells and whistles possible on it except for satellite radio--we chose the other option that I can't remember now and you couldn't have both--and the DVD player--again, can't have sunroof and DVD player--because Hubby is instant-gratification-man and because I'm the type that has to prove a point) we've really strove to make all the appointments and all the deadlines. We're actually 1500 miles ahead on our services because we don't even drive it as hard as the other cars we've owned have been driven (case in point--Hubby's PODD--that's doggie doo--that has well over 130K miles on it and we've owned that for 6 years and put all but 35K on it ourselves).

The bigger point of this long story is that I hate taking the car to get it serviced, because I hate the dealership. I will never, ever, EVER purchase a vehicle from anything that has to do with the Lithia dealerships. The way we got the car was absurd. We went to the dealership and meandered the parking lot for 45 minutes without any car salesperson coming near us. In July. How is it that NO car salespeople wanted to help us? I was in shorts and grubby sneakers, Hubby in shorts and a grungy shirt, so we assume that the evil car people thought we were a)too young to afford a new car and/or b) too poor to talk to. Never mind that we had studied up on Jeeps and checked out safety ratings and prices and packages and were therefore not only willing to walk onto the lot and purchase a Jeep then and there, but fully aware of the costs and able to purchase one. After being ignored, we left and went down the road to another dealership, deciding to check out other cars. We explained our terrible experience to a nice salesman (that followed us to the parking space and greeted us enthusiastically despite our appearances), who said that he used to work for Lithia and HE called over to the first dealership and told them that two nice people had left and that they had almost lost a sale but that he was giving up his potential commission and sending us back. Wouldn't you know it--upon our return to the first dealership, they were magically willing to help us! Who begs a dealership to sell a ridiculously priced vehicle to them? Us. I had to buy the car to prove to these people that we could so afford it and Hubby had to buy the car because it is a sweet ride and has a lot of bells and whistles and things I don't know how to work now 2 years later.

As we were learning the "benefits" of financing the Jeep with Chrysler/Dodge, the finance man had the nerve to complain about it being after his normal hours and that's why he was in a hurry to get through the paperwork. That made me determined to make him stay longer. Hubby told him it was his own dealership's fault, and we asked a million questions about purchasing some terribly expensive additional warranty. The finance man told us it covered things like towing, rental cars when the Jeep was being serviced, the majority of the parts that aren't covered after the original warranty, and a zillion other things I can't remember. Turns out none of that is true. On average, the Jeep spends about 3-6 hours being maintenanced whenever I take it down (I usually have the big months, Hubby gets the oil change only months). However, there's no rental car offered. Never mind that we drive an hour to get it serviced, or that in order for me to do anything else during this time, a friend or Hubby has to drive that hour as well and then cart my happy rear end around Santa Fe. All that the additional several thousand dollar warranty is good for is lifetime oil changes. Guess while I was trying to make him stay longer to piss him off, the finance man was figuring out how to screw me royally.

Then there's the fact that a part was recalled on the Jeep. Nobody mentioned this to us--we had to take the Jeep in 3 times before they heard the noise and agreed something was wrong, and then when they agreed, they announced that the part had been recalled anyway, so they were replacing all the parts. Of course, we scheduled a separate appointment for that--an appointment that would last 2-3 hours according to the maintenance manager. After 4 hours, the manager confessed to me that they didn't order enough parts for all the tires (everyone knows that a car only drives on 3 wheels, right?) and I would have to come back again. So I made yet another trip down where I sat for 5 hours. And the noise is still in the back of the Jeep, like it was last January when we began this quest for finding the noise.

So as I pull in today, and I give my last name, the manager says, "Oh, _____(insert Hubby's name here)." Of course Hubby has chewed them out several times in the past, and I sent scathing remarks back on a recent survey about the dealership. Manager tells me it'll be another 2-3 hour appointment--which Hubby failed to tell me, but my past experience has taught me to bring a book. I bet it really should have only taken 15 minutes, but again, Lithia is out to screw me.

Why do we still go there? It ain't the service--see all of the above paragraphs. It ain't the coffee--they don't even offer free coffee (but if we'd bought at the dealership next door, we'd get coffee and doughnuts--that's what my parents get). It ain't the other clientele--although the scruffy toothless man and his friend the volunteer fireman in an even more podunk town that hit on me in the waiting room did soften me up...it's been a long time since anyone tried to flirt with me. We're afraid of voiding the several thousand dollar warranty that nobody knows what it's good for other than lifetime oil changes.

That, and I don't really want to look like we made a mistake, because I never make mistakes :)

Bourne to be Annoying

Last night we went to the movies. One of the pleasures of living in Podunk is that there is only one movie theater (and I should note that it went away for several years and just fairly recently did we get another one) in town, and if a hot new movie comes out, for the next week or so the theater is generally packed. So last night we got there and once the previews were beginning we had to readjust so that three teenage boys could sit next to us.

I love teenagers. I think that starting at about 7th grade youth get very interesting and by the time they are in high school, it's totally fabulous to watch how they're trying to find themselves and who they want to be--just to know that during college/first time out on their own as adults it will all change. I used to spend a huge portion of my life with teenagers. We've had several teenagers live with us. I'd like to think that for the most part I can handle anything a teenager would throw at me.

Apparently not anything. This kid directly next to me checked his cell phone about every 5 minutes. This caused the lit screen to distract me every 5 minutes. Dude, you're at a movie--stop texting. You just paid a million dollars to sit in this DARK theater. When he wasn't checking his cell phone, he was biting his nails. I'm sure you're wondering why I heard it over the movie, right? That would be because he propped his arm up on the armrest between he and me and gnawed away. Is there a more irritating noise? Not during a movie there isn't. If I could have crawled out, I would have bought him a $50 bag of popcorn and suggested he chew that instead.

So while the eye candy on screen was great, I have no idea how good the plot was...I just know that apparently it was nailbitingly/have to tell my friends about it good.

The Icing on the Cake

Just a warning--I'm madder than a hornet that has just had her nest stepped on :(

STUPID STUPID New Mexico. I hate the service here.

Went to Chilis in Espanola for dinner. They seated us right away. We were sitting at about 5 after 7 pm. Didn't see a waitress until about 7:20 when she finally took our drink order and I gave her the appetizer order.

Maybe I should back up a bit. I got off work at 6:30 AM this morning, went home and fell asleep around 7:30 am. Had to get up at 11:00 am because I had to be at work for a mandatory training that didn't end until 6 pm. Did not get to eat other than a caffeine free diet Coke and a breakfast bar. It wore off quickly, and I am a true female dog when I don't eat.

So the waitress takes the drink order and what we wanted as an appetizer order at about 7:20 pm. She disappears. About 10 minutes later we get our drinks. Another 15 minutes pass and she comes back to refill the drinks (gave me the wrong drink and it took 5 minutes to get her to correct this--and she took my straw)and to take our dinner order. She assures us she turned in the appetizer order. Another 15 minutes after this we see her coming with our dinner order. She says that another waitress delivered our appetizer to another table but another one is coming. We tell her to forget it (it's been 1 hour since we've been in the restaurant and we're both famished and put off from here to high heaven), and she has the NERVE to tell us "well I won't charge you for it then."

NO BLEEPING BLEEPING COW MANURE you won't charge us for it!! Hello, we never saw it, never touched it, never tasted it. It was freaking a full 45 minutes after we had placed the order and our main courses were there. WTF (what the fudge) is her problem??

So hubby asks for a manager. He comes over and begins apologizing right away with lame excuses about how they're short 2 people out front and 2 people in the kitchen. Is that my fault? Do I do the hiring for Chilis? I don't care. All I want is a straw--which it's been around 7 minutes since I asked the waitress for one and she's never returned--and hot food. Yup, the dinner is just above room temperature. Is that even legal? So the manager tells us that he'll take the appetizer off the bill--again, WTF?!?!

Sure enough, when the bill appears (20 minutes later...nice that now she was in a hurry to help us leave since we've already complained--she gives the bill and then says "do you want anything else?"), the waitress is quick to tell us that she took the appetizer off the bill, like she did some favor to us. I blame Chilis for the hunger pains that chased me out the door and I blame Chilis for the fact that I have to go to a store where I will buy a bunch of food that's not needed because of the miserable night thus far. I blame Chilis for the fact that I will be even more grossly overweight and I blame Chilis for the fact that I will die of a young age due to a heart attack from clogged arteries and diabetes and stress from terrible service, not to mention the depression I'll be in from all the illnesses that will plague me because I couldn't get an appetizer or hot food.

So then we go to Walmart, where we don't spend near as much time as we usually do. I am hungry since dinner sucked and I want to go to Dairy Queen for a dipped cone. We buy a cake (comfort food for my foul temper) and a couple other items, and head to line, where we wait for what must have been at least 30 minutes. I had time to wander the store again and my homeboy still hadn't moved from where I left him. We finally escape after 10 pm just to discover that Dairy Queen closed at 10 pm. I hold Walmart responsible for the fact that my night is screwed up and that I will now go to bed hungry because I couldn't have a dipped cone.
Not even the cone that homeboy got me at McDonalds is going to fix this.

We get home and discover that the checker put the cake on its side next to the fresh loaf of bread, and then the bag rolled around the back of the car (I did ask homeboy to check this for me and he said not to worry as it would be fine), and sure enough, the icing is off the cake and stuck on the roof of the container and the bread is smushed. Now I hold Walmart responsible for the ruination of the rest of my night and probably this whole week because the cake won't taste right since I had to stick it back together. I also blame Walmart for any demise of my marriage this evening as I scream at homeboy for the ruined cake that he SAID would be fine.

Who knew life could be ruined and suck just because of icing on a cake?