Hello, May I help you?

*I am depressing myself with the posts about the breakup. It's somewhat therapeutic to write about it - but today, I need a break. I imagine you do too. Thanks for staying with me even though I have been down.*

Due to the nature of my job - I travel. Not a whole lot, but enough. I was in Boston last week, and I am headed off to St. Louis for the day tomorrow. Like most professionals, I have a corporate card - an AmEx. It's everywhere I want to be - or is that Visa? Either way, I abuse the hell out of it. At hotels, I order $30 room service breakfast followed by a Venti Starbucks latte in the lobby. When my luggage gets lost, I expense the "good makeup" from CVS to get me through the next day. I take a $45 cab ride home from the airport instead of $2 public transportation via the blue line. The way I look at it, if I have to be away from home, I am going to find small ways to enjoy myself on the company dime - ESPECIALLY if it cuts into my weekend.

Before switching to American Express, my company used Diners Club. Diners Club had it's perks (i.e. no late fees for paying the statement late - even though if I was reimbursed in a timely manner it never would have been late to begin with - thank you very much), but it also sucked because who-the-fuck takes Diners Club? Nobody, that's who. When nobody takes your card, it becomes more difficult to expense stuff, making KC very unhappy.

In addition to the trouble just using my card, I had numerous problems with customer service. If, God forbid, there were strange charges or a problem with my statement, I could forget about speaking to a rational human being. In fact, I am pretty sure that Diner's Club customer service reps are actually patients at local mental hospitals. They are shuffled into a room under the guise of "arts and crafts time" and are forced to listen to angry customer complaints about their statements while they make cotten ball bunny rabbits. An actual conversation may look like this;

Rep: Hello, Sunny Acres Mental hosp- I mean - Diner's Club - how can I help you?

Me: Hi, I have a question about my bill.

Rep: I can tell that the government has been speaking with you. It's clear you know the secrets.

Me: What? No, I just am confused about a charge on my bill. Can you help me with that?

Rep: When was the last time you spoke with the president?

Me: ....

Rep: *Whispering* Help me get out of here.

Me: What? Do you need help? What is going on?

Voice in background: What are you doing? Get back here! :::ZAP:::

Dial Tone

So - you can see why I hate calling these people. I was so excited to cancel my Diners Club Membership when I got news about our company switch to AmEx. I paid my last Diners Club bill and breathed a huge sigh of relief. After all, one less corporate card held by me might mean one less mental patient forced to complete "Arts and Crafts time." I am a freaking humanitarian - always thinking about others.

I wish I could say that my Diners Club relationship ended there.

Apparently, I over payed my bill by one cent. ONE CENT! Oh the humanity! When you overpay your bill, you get statements telling you that you overpaid. You get these statements twice a month...for 5 months.

Upon receipt of my first notice, I called the crazy farm customer service to inform them that I cancelled and should not be receiving statements. They recognized my cancellation and informed me that they would be sending me a check for the over payed balance. Rather than discuss the obvious idiocy of paying to send me one cent, I let it go. I figured I could keep the check with my countless $0 checks from my time as a waitress. Besides, the poor customer service people go through enough without my logic making their crazy little heads explode. See? Humanitarian.

After about 10 more statements reminding me that I was owed one freaking cent - I called again.

Me: Hi, I cancelled my card, but I keep getting statements saying that I am owed one cent.

Rep: Ok.

Me: The last guy told me a check would be coming, but I really only want to stop receiving mail from you.

Rep: But you owe us money.

Me: No, you are not listening. You owe ME money.

Rep: Oh.

Me: So how do I get you to stop sending me stuff? Can I gift you the money? I will verbally authorize you to keep my one cent as a donation.

Rep: We can't do that.

Me: Can you just send me the check for one cent, then?

Rep: We can't do that.

Me: Well, what can you do?

Rep: Can't you just throw out the statement?

Me: Sigh. No. I am sick of receiving statements. Not only is it a waste of paper, but you are spending 41 cents on postage every time you send me the statement for ONE cent. Don't you see the irony?

Rep: God I hate Arts and Crafts time, the damn Easter Bunny keeps eating all my paste.

Me: What?

Rep: I said we cannot write a check for one cent - that would be a waste of money and resources. You can disregard the statement or you can re-open your account and we will apply a credit.

Me: This is pointless. May I speak to a supervisor?

Rep: Sure

Supervisor: You are cutting into Macaroni and Popsicle stick time ma'am. What's the issue?

Me: Never mind.

Thanks Guys

Just wanted to say thanks not only to my regular commenters (all 3 of you), but to my silent (as in not commenting) friends. I apologize for not calling many of you back. I am actually traveling for business right now and have taken the opportunity to clear my head a bit. I seriously appreciate everyone's concern, love and patience. Every voicemail I hear makes me so grateful that I have such amazing friends that not only care about me, but care enough to wait until I am ready to talk.

You are all amazing, and I need all of you right now. I love you guys so much and I can't begin to explain how much your suport means to me. I promise to call all of you soon - so don't worry too much. You know me, I'm a survivor. I'm just a little sad right now and I'm not used to feeling so weak.

Until then - I heart you all.

KC

Sarcasmatic Classifieds

I need a roommate. Obviously, recent happenings have opened up an available room at my apartment. Looking for someone clean. non-smoker, not a psycho. I have a HUGE apartment with skyline views in a gorgeous walk-up building. Lots of natural light, fireplace/washer/dryer/dishwasher/kitchen to die for and a steam shower. I have a ton of furniture, so you would really only need a bedroom stuff for your room. Amazing place. $825/month + utilities.

I don't suck as a roomie - so if you or someone you know may be interested - lets get together for a beer and see if we could get along.

*The pictures are from before I moved in - so it's not my furniture, but you get the idea

One dollar, Bob.

I was doing my typical avoid work blog check morning routine and landed upon a post about naming fish over at Tenth Muse (go add some suggestions). I racked my brain for a bit and submitted a couple ideas including Bob Barker & Rod Roddy - which got me thinking - I miss those guys (Especially Rod - Come on Down!!!!).

Matt and I stayed home from work together a few weeks ago and caught a little bit of the new "Price is Right" with Drew Carey. I'm not gonna lie - it was kinda creepy. Drew just doesn't fit in with that glorious 70's stage facade. His awkward approach doesn't resonate like Bob's natural charm. I didn't see the end, but I can't imagine Drew inspiring me to "Help control the pet population" by "Having my pet spayed or neutered."

It's disturbing to see childhood icons (So what if Bob Barker was a God to me? Don't judge.) grow older or pass away. I have had a lot of moments like this lately. I remember a figure from my childhood and become a bit saddened by the realization that these people won't be around for my kids (if I ever have any). I know it's part of growing up, but have you seen a picture of Bill Cosby lately? It's enough to make me want to cry. These people are timeless to me and it is almost painful to see them in such a frail state.

I know they can't live forever and that these people will live on in our hearts and minds and blah blah blah...but it still sucks ass and I don't like it. I am getting more crotchety and bitter with every year, huh? At this rate, by the time I'm 30, I will be tripping small children with a cane whilst screaming obscenities and gibberish about how Jeopardy isn't the same without Alex Trebeck.

So who is it for you? Who is that one personality whose aging/death really hits home?

Overheard on the sidewalk

"I have seriously been stopped by three different blind guys today asking me for directions to the same place."

"Maybe there is a convention or something."

"Well, then they should hang up signs so these people know where to go."

Rhyme for the summertime

Nice weather is finally upon us and this can only mean one thing – concert season. Ahh yes – time to pack up my picnic basket and head to Ravinia, discover my long lost hippie-ness at Deer Creek, and get my groove on lakeside at Northerly Island on Navy Pier.

Admittedly, as I have gotten older, my concert behavior tolerance has decreased and I have become what some might refer to as “crotchety.” I used to never miss a show – especially if I really liked a band. Now, it has become somewhat of an annoyance to hop a train or drive through traffic on a Wednesday only to suffer the whole next day due to lack of sleep. I am still a trooper though, and I suffer through the annoyance because nothing beats live music.

At the ripe old age of 26, my music preference has calmed a bit. I do not attend shows where I may encounter a mosh pit, I hang out in the balcony with the other “old folks” and when I consider buying concert tickets and see “ALL AGES” on the bill – I curse loudly, shake my fist into the air and remove the tickets from my virtual shopping cart. You would think that this would limit my encounters with the clueless – but you should never underestimate the public’s ability to be an asshole.

With that said, I present KC’s guide to concert-going. Feel free to print and distribute as necessary.

10. Dance Politely.

If you plan on doing the “Hippy convulsion wiggle shake dance,” make sure you have enough room to do so without disturbing those trying to enjoy the show around you. Either take it down a notch or move out of my way so that I can enjoy the show without your elbow in my tit.



Quick side note – if you would like to learn how to do the hippy dance, follow these simple rules;
a. Listen to the song being played
b. Completely disregard any melody or beat of the aforementioned song
c. Have seizure

9. Please remember to wear deodorant.
9b. Patchouli is not deodorant.

8. Do not push or shove your way up to the front of the crowd.

If you wanted to stand front and center, you should have gotten to the event earlier. If you do happen to make your way to the front of the crowd, you forfeit any right to use the restroom, get a beer or leave for any reason unless you are willing to give up your spot for the remainder of the show. This is a consequence you must pay for prime viewing.

5. Do not wear the shirt of the band you are going to see.

This should go without saying – but (and I quote from PCU) "Don't be that guy." You may be asking yourself, “But, KC, What if it’s an old concert shirt from a different tour? Can I wear that one?” The answer is no. Why? Because you look like a fuck-tard. If you bought the ticket, you are a fan. That is all you need to prove your allegiance.

6. No shoulder rides.

We all know your girlfriend is only 5 feet tall. However, when you place her atop your 6 foot frame, you have created a really tall, annoying monster that blocks everyone else behind you. Expect to have beer spilled down your pants.

5. Don’t yell out song requests.

The band has a set list determined ahead of time for continuity/lighting purposes. Sometimes a band will ask for requests – then and only then may you scream. If you absolutely cannot contain yourself (please try), DO NOT request that one song that is played on the radio every 15 minutes. They will play it, I promise.

Don't yell "Freebird." You are not funny or ironic.

4. Air Guitar – Just don’t.

For the love of all that is holy – Just. Don’t. (This rule also applies to air drums, air base and air piano)

3. This is not sing-along time, this is a concert.

Nobody minds if you quietly mouth along or sing along to yourself. It’s fun – everyone does it. However, I paid to hear the artist sing the song. I did not pay to hear you drunkenly shout it. What’s more – I certainly did not pay to hear you sing the first line and then drunkenly mumble along until you remember another word. Which you shout. In my ear.

2. Cell phones are a no-no.

Seriously, Broseph, your friend does not care that the band is doing a Bob Dylan cover. No. They cannot hear it. Cell phones are not microphones or concert recording devices and your friend will likely be annoyed that you are;

a) rubbing in the fact that they are not at the show, themselves
b) likely interrupting whatever they are doing so that they can listen to mumbled static as you drunkenly sing along

Besides, you are annoying the people around you.

1. STFU.

Seriously. I want to hear the band – not your weekend plans. If you want to talk/gossip/make business deals do it at home/at the bar/on the golf course. This especially applies to non-rock shows where people are seated. Also – do not yell shit at the band. They are not going to get naked no matter how much you tell them they are “hot” or request that they “take it off.” This is not a strip club. The band is performing. Have some respect. Save your fantasies for the bedroom.

Did I miss anything? What annoys you most when you go to see live music?

The Friday Song - To An Old Friend

In honor of an old friend deciding to make a blogspot of her very own, I am dedicating this Friday song to Sleepy Jean over at I Like Cheese?

Sleepy J and I go way back. I met her in 1st grade when we both lived in West Chicago (Chicago 'burbs - if you couldn't figure that one out). We became fast friends and when she moved away, I was devistated. Though we didn't stay in touch (We were in 1st grade, dudes), I thought of her often and hoped she was happy.

Not long after Sleepy J moved away, my mother and I moved out of West Chicago to St. Charles (another Chicago 'burb). Some time in fifth grade, our class took a field trip to see a theater adaptation of "The Bridge to Terabithia." Before the play began, I was restless and scanning the theater for some sort of mischief when I spotted her. How was it that I was to see Sleepy J after several years - and here we were in the same town again!

We ended up going to Jr. High and High School together and becoming friends again. In Jr. High, we would sing Pearl Jam songs at the top of our lungs (She had a much better voice than I). My Mother even took the two of us up to Summerfest in Milwaukee when we were in 8th grade to see our favorite band. I had fan club tickets - because I was COOL - shut up. We sang along - we danced. We were shameless fans and desperately in love with Eddie Vedder.

Me and Sleepy Jean too cool for school rockin' the ring pops in front of a convenience store.
(How very Clerks of us)

She always had an amazing spirit. Through everything she had to deal with at home and through those years of teen angst and rebellion, she was there for anyone that needed her. She was an amazing talent and even more amazingly beautiful - she just never knew it. I always thought she had the most amazing deep soulful eyes and a wisdom beyond her years. We grew apart - I believe she moved again and I went off to college.

Turns out, while I was pursuing booze and other debauchery at good old NIU - she was off getting married and finding God. Through the time wasting black hole that is myspace, we found each other again. Though I haven't seen this girl (in person) in over 8 years (maybe more?), I still think of her as a great friend and all around amazing human being.

We share a love for the blues now and I hope that we are able to get together one day and screech out some Susan Tedeschi or Sam Cooke at the top of our lungs. Strike that - I will screech and she will sing with that pure, honest voice of hers. More than anything, I think I would just like to give her a hug.

I have been agonizing over what song to dedicate to my old friend. Do I choose something that resonates now? Something with some soul, something with some funk? No. To her, my old friend - could there be any other song to dedicate to her? Though the song is dark - I remember what this meant to her and what it meant to me. I remember friends laughing and crying together...and really, isn't that what it's all about?