Thursday, March 30, 2006
Drive-By Wheelchair Clubbings...
My brother Ron told me that he heard on the radio that as soon as the Torino Paralympics comes to a close today, the Canadian Paralympic Committee will be starting a "recruiting drive" for the 2010 Paralympics in Vancouver/Whistler.
Ulp. Don't say you haven't been warned....
Ulp. Don't say you haven't been warned....
Monday, March 27, 2006
Lap Dogs...
This weekend, I saw three or four people driving with dogs on their laps. One car was crossing the intersection in front of me, and all I saw was this big white puffy thing in front of the guy. I thought his airbag had deployed until Fifi's little white head popped up. I mean, I like dogs but sheesh, get your stupid mutt out of the front seat. It doesn't have to be there. Now, if you want to bathe your cats while you're driving home, I'm all for that (the accidents will help keep the gene pool a bit cleaner!).
In a related story (not really), a car accident gave life instead of claiming it. A 77 year-old British professor suffered cardiac arrest while driving and died. He lost control of his Honda Civic and slammed his car into a tree, which caused the steering wheel to hit his chest and restart his heart.
Fifi, on the other hand, was crushed instantly....
In a related story (not really), a car accident gave life instead of claiming it. A 77 year-old British professor suffered cardiac arrest while driving and died. He lost control of his Honda Civic and slammed his car into a tree, which caused the steering wheel to hit his chest and restart his heart.
Fifi, on the other hand, was crushed instantly....
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Visa Fraud Squad...
I recently pre-purchased 20 tickets to a large summertime music festival in Washington state. The total price of the purchase was $2400, and I used my Visa card. At first I tried online, and after filling in many pages of important information, I clicked "purchase" and waited for the next screen. It said "card declined."
I tried it again (filling in all the info a second time). Same result. "Argh, that means I have to actually call someone and talk to them about registering." Oh well, it's worth all the hassle to register 20 people who will camp together and listen to cool concerts over 4 days in July. I called the 800 number and spoke to Chad. After going through all the information needed to register our group (he was probably simply filling out the pages online like I had just attempted), he confirmed it all. Then he thoughtfully said into the phone, "hmmmm..." I acted like a psychic hotline expert and told him exactly what he was reading on the screen in front of him. "Card declined."
Okay, time to get to the bottom of this. I thanked Chad and called up Toni at Visa. I explained my problem and asked what was going on. She put me on hold and talked to someone in the office. Turns out, when I tried to make my purchase online, the Visa Fraud Supercomputer (I don't know if it's called that, but it's better than "Big Brother") flagged my account and froze my card. "You see," she explained, "the purchase looked larger than usual and suspicious, so we didn't allow it. Let me get an a-okay to release your card back to you, and give you permission to purchase your tickets." Why, thank you Toni. That would be nice.
On one hand, I'm glad that Visa has security measures in place that will "catch fraud" in the act. On the other hand, why is my credit limit over $10,000 if I can't even use it without prior consent? Maybe with Visa I can only make purchases that are priceless (and for everything else there's Mastercard)....
I tried it again (filling in all the info a second time). Same result. "Argh, that means I have to actually call someone and talk to them about registering." Oh well, it's worth all the hassle to register 20 people who will camp together and listen to cool concerts over 4 days in July. I called the 800 number and spoke to Chad. After going through all the information needed to register our group (he was probably simply filling out the pages online like I had just attempted), he confirmed it all. Then he thoughtfully said into the phone, "hmmmm..." I acted like a psychic hotline expert and told him exactly what he was reading on the screen in front of him. "Card declined."
Okay, time to get to the bottom of this. I thanked Chad and called up Toni at Visa. I explained my problem and asked what was going on. She put me on hold and talked to someone in the office. Turns out, when I tried to make my purchase online, the Visa Fraud Supercomputer (I don't know if it's called that, but it's better than "Big Brother") flagged my account and froze my card. "You see," she explained, "the purchase looked larger than usual and suspicious, so we didn't allow it. Let me get an a-okay to release your card back to you, and give you permission to purchase your tickets." Why, thank you Toni. That would be nice.
On one hand, I'm glad that Visa has security measures in place that will "catch fraud" in the act. On the other hand, why is my credit limit over $10,000 if I can't even use it without prior consent? Maybe with Visa I can only make purchases that are priceless (and for everything else there's Mastercard)....
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Dignity Stripped...
On Monday I was ridiculed and humiliated, questioned and frowned upon. My masculinity was challenged and my intelligence was doubted. I was stripped of any dignity that may have once resided within this tired body of mine. Things I thought I knew, I didn't. Things I should have known, were sneeringly pointed out. On Monday I had a fresh sense of what some prisoners of war might endure under the scrutiny of hot lights, sleep deprivation, torture, and continual belittling.
Yes, I went to Mr. Lube.
Things started out fine. They were kind enough to guide my little '95 Dodge Colt into the service bay, telling me how to drive straight and when to stop. After popping the hood, I was asked a series of questions pertaining to the types of service offered at Mr. Lube. I politely asked for an oil change, and preceeded to read the free newspaper they handed to me. Little did I know what lay ahead.
Shortly, I was shown a sample of my engine oil. It was dirty. Isn't that normal for an 11 year old car driving regularly between oil changes? Apparently not. I was shown normal engine oil and given a brief history of engine oil and it's application to the engine. I knew all this, but congenially listened. "Mr. Lube," or Ali, as his shirt implied, asked if I had ever had an engine flush, because it is a recommended service on vehicles every 48,000km. It costs $25.99 and would help my engine work more efficiently. I said, "go for it, Mr. Lube." I was still in a good mood, my manhood intact.
10 minutes later, after agreeing that my transmission fluid needed changing, radiator needed flushing, and wipers needed swapping, I looked over at the guy in the newish Ford Bronco beside me. He was hunched over, resting his head on the steering wheel as a "fluid specialist" and shop manager called him from his seat, pointing to something under the hood all the while shaking their heads. We were beaten and broken men. Defeated by a series of car fluid questions and 'Lubish solutions, cleverly designed to tear away at our machismo and swagger.
It was all a blur. I rolled my window up, smiled, said "thank you," and drove away as my debit card rung through $143.58 for the oil change and extras that were propagated on me.
"Come again," Mr. Lube chimed. But after all that transpired, it felt like a big part of me never truly left....
Yes, I went to Mr. Lube.
Things started out fine. They were kind enough to guide my little '95 Dodge Colt into the service bay, telling me how to drive straight and when to stop. After popping the hood, I was asked a series of questions pertaining to the types of service offered at Mr. Lube. I politely asked for an oil change, and preceeded to read the free newspaper they handed to me. Little did I know what lay ahead.
Shortly, I was shown a sample of my engine oil. It was dirty. Isn't that normal for an 11 year old car driving regularly between oil changes? Apparently not. I was shown normal engine oil and given a brief history of engine oil and it's application to the engine. I knew all this, but congenially listened. "Mr. Lube," or Ali, as his shirt implied, asked if I had ever had an engine flush, because it is a recommended service on vehicles every 48,000km. It costs $25.99 and would help my engine work more efficiently. I said, "go for it, Mr. Lube." I was still in a good mood, my manhood intact.
10 minutes later, after agreeing that my transmission fluid needed changing, radiator needed flushing, and wipers needed swapping, I looked over at the guy in the newish Ford Bronco beside me. He was hunched over, resting his head on the steering wheel as a "fluid specialist" and shop manager called him from his seat, pointing to something under the hood all the while shaking their heads. We were beaten and broken men. Defeated by a series of car fluid questions and 'Lubish solutions, cleverly designed to tear away at our machismo and swagger.
It was all a blur. I rolled my window up, smiled, said "thank you," and drove away as my debit card rung through $143.58 for the oil change and extras that were propagated on me.
"Come again," Mr. Lube chimed. But after all that transpired, it felt like a big part of me never truly left....
Friday, March 10, 2006
March Birthdays...
Aquamarine. Jonquil. Those are the March birthstone and flower. I'm not sure what a jonquil looks like, maybe I'll look it up. (Note: most blogger-type-people would at this point connect a link here or post a picture of an actual jonquil, but I'm not your run-of-the-mill blogger. Nosiree, I like to hyphenate things and use brackets.... I'm a blogger-hyphenater-parentheses-type, not a computer-friendly-help-everyone-learn-what-a-jonquil-is-type.)
Back to my point. I know a lot of people who were born in March. Like, maybe an abnormal amount of people (and yes, some of them are abnormal - you know who you are!). I counted 22 people that I know, personally, who have March birthdays. And I bet there are other friends and relatives whom I just don't know when their birthday is, but are March babies as well. Looking over the list of folks, it would seem to me that March people are smart, creative, funny, good looking, prone to getting into trouble with their words, industrial, wise, athletic, and just gosh-darn all-round good people (and maybe they like hyphens?).
So without further ado, "Happy Birthday Month" to Andy, Andrew, Steve, Carissa, June, Stu, Lisa, Joel, Paulina, Kayla, Kucy, Sarah, Tamara, Jim, James, Ben, Josh, Shane, Lloyd, Cheri, and Katrina.
If there are more of you out there, let me know if you like hyphens....
Back to my point. I know a lot of people who were born in March. Like, maybe an abnormal amount of people (and yes, some of them are abnormal - you know who you are!). I counted 22 people that I know, personally, who have March birthdays. And I bet there are other friends and relatives whom I just don't know when their birthday is, but are March babies as well. Looking over the list of folks, it would seem to me that March people are smart, creative, funny, good looking, prone to getting into trouble with their words, industrial, wise, athletic, and just gosh-darn all-round good people (and maybe they like hyphens?).
So without further ado, "Happy Birthday Month" to Andy, Andrew, Steve, Carissa, June, Stu, Lisa, Joel, Paulina, Kayla, Kucy, Sarah, Tamara, Jim, James, Ben, Josh, Shane, Lloyd, Cheri, and Katrina.
If there are more of you out there, let me know if you like hyphens....
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Elite Trash Men...
Recently, I put out some extra items with our regular weekly trash. Beside the garbage cans I neatly placed an old fireplace grill and a broken bike carrier. The garbage men came by, loaded the garbage bags and recycling into their trucks, and left the other items behind. It was almost as if they were saying sneeringly, "we don't want your junk!"
Hey news flash, boys. You're GARBAGE MEN! Who else is gonna take my junk, the mailman? The next week I put the stuff out there in the back lane again, and it was picked up this time. Maybe it was a substitute garbage guy who actually wanted to do his job....
Hey news flash, boys. You're GARBAGE MEN! Who else is gonna take my junk, the mailman? The next week I put the stuff out there in the back lane again, and it was picked up this time. Maybe it was a substitute garbage guy who actually wanted to do his job....
