Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Giving Credit Where Credit is Due

You ever notice how when you're watching the Price is Right, it's all commercials for life alert and power scooters and stool softeners? Stuff geared toward the elderly. Or when you should happen to surf by Jerry Springer (because my mature audience would never watch something like that...) it's all advertisements for sleazy attorneys who claim you can sue anyone or pawn shops promising money for your jewelry(heirlooms..) and stuff? Well, I got my first notice about my student loan, just kinda saying "Ok, we're paying your shit, but you owe us.." and right on cue, Credit Card applications by the barrel full.

Literally, the barrel full, I was throwing them out. I let the mail build up for a day and it was like an avalanche of low APR this, adjustable rate interest that! Visa, MasterCard, American Express! They all want me to spend their money! I should feel honored I suppose.

Since I'm a student, and I barely work anymore, I decided, "What the hell.." and opened one of them up. Ok, reading through. There's some % thingies, I was never good at those in school. Alright, no liability for fraudulent purchases. Cool. Oooh, pick your own card design? I was sold, granted their templates were lamer than lame, but whatever, I've always envied those fancy people with their tacky American Flag credit cards. Filled out the application online, got approved, and waited.

Today, at long last, I received my beautiful new credit card. From Capital One, complete with the "Starry Night" background I requested. I was going to go with the declaration of Independence header "We The People" but in todays world, it may as well been the Mayflower Compact since in the event that I did lose my card, no one is going to respect such a strong symbol of American independence, but rather rape my fragile credit line on a plasma TV or some pogs or whatever Identity
Thieves are into these days.

I read through the 'fine print' which was more numbers and % things, and then called the 1-800 number to activate my card. After my call reached the switch board in New Delhi, I spoke with a delightful young lady whose name I cannot pronounce, which isn't so bad because she couldn't pronounce mine either. We spoke of those APR things and she told me I could have $1000 somehow, and then some more about other stuff. I really couldn't understand her very much at all, crafty bastards. They're not outsourcing to save money, they're outsourcing to trick people. They may as well just get Ms. Swan to explain the policy on Identity Theft Protection. The only part I caught was that it'd cost me $9 a month, and I did most politely inform her she could fuck that noise.

My card got activated, I got a pin, I have a line of credit. I'm ready to join the millions of Americans crippled by debt. Payday is not until next week, but I simply can't live without an Ipod touch. No problem! Charge it! Charge it all! Lady behind me in line at Best Buy? Yeah, what the hell, you've earned that washer and dryer! Put it on the card baby! What's free money if you're not going to use it,right?

Oh but I jest. Your humble Blog-rator is not nearly that reckless (with money) that he would do such a thing. No, just like that condom you had in high school, this card is going to stay in my wallet until the time is right... or she's just that drunk.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

My new BFF

For years I rejected even the notion of pharmaceuticals, holding onto some sort of false pride. After accepting the inevitable that I can not trust my self to focus on whatever task is at hand unless it's playing computer games or watching movies, I saw my trusty doctor. Apparently, I have ADHD, but since I'm 20, I'm far too old to have made the "Your kid has ADHD" trend.

Born after 1987? You've got ADHD.
Every gotten into trouble? ADHD.
Acting out in class? ADHD again.

I have to say, as skeptical as I was, these things are freaking great! I was up until 4 am last night writing a manifesto and learning French! Without Adderall, I was sluggish and run down all the time, choosing anti-social behavior over that of a stimulating nature. That's all changed. Come tomorrow, I shall own most rightiously in all of my classes and then retire for the evening with Disk 2 of my pirated "Learn French in your car."

Why French? Why the hell not. My pills are wearing off for the night, and I've got to get some sleep anyway.

Au revoir! Douche bags...

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Failure Cake/Epic funk

I think something may have died in my office. It's not the cat, I just got done yelling at him for sleeping all day on my hoodie. I went down to get more coffee (a pot a day keeps the voices away) and I was hit with this epic funk that damn near burnt the hair out of my nose.

It might be that I smoke a carton of cigarettes every 5 minutes, or the stack of empty Fresca cans. It could even be the dried out paints, or the cup of dirty water, but something truly pungent has invaded my once pleasant milieu, something more eviler than Skeletor himself.

To the right, you'll see a cake that I baked and decorated myself. I blew off that paper I was supposed to write for English but baked a cake. A model of productivity is me.
It looked like shit but tasted alright, providing nourishment for a couple days.

That's right, I lived the dream of every 5 year old in the world, to eat cake every meal. Or every Ethiopian child, to eat a meal.

At any rate, I'll be doing some cleaning eventually, or emptying a bottle of Febreeze into this som'bitch. Whichever requires less effort, I'm lookin' at you Febreeze.

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

Electile dysfunction

Judging by the ten or so calls I received today from anonymous numbers and pre-recorded 'Please support' messages, I'm going to take an educated guess and say it's election time. A time when people stand on corners and hold big signs with other people's names on them, and wave and smile at cars. And as I mentioned before, when I get 10 calls a day from recordings telling me to vote for someone I've never heard of.

I was thinking of running for mayor. I mentioned it quite a few months ago, but the last call I got (literally 30 seconds ago) urging me to support Mayor Phelan, was just the push I needed.

People always talk about the issues. I've got plenty of them. I've also got ideas of how to waste people's money. For example, instead of putting up those ultra gay banners on all the street lights in Quincy Center, we build more bomb shelters. And by bomb shelters, I mean shelter, as in one. Big enough to fit myself, my entourage, one (dozen) or so suitable child bearers, and a lot of guns in the event of a nuclear holocaust. When the bombs drop, we'll need someone like me, you'll see.

Rather than having resources for kids, we build robots. Not for cleaning or maintenance, but like some high-tech ass robots that just sort of co-exist in our society. Give 'em some quarks and let 'em loose. Good luck bringing down Postpartum Depression Torrettes bot, wreaking havoc at the local church. And it looks like ol' Decapo-borg just ripped another senior citizens head off. Since we don't need Christians or the elderly to have a good city, I don't see these things as problems.

In addition to a bomb shelter and robots, I would propose Quincy become it's own sovereign nation, much like the various Indian ones. All of the important areas will be represented (With the exception of Quincy Point, because it's Quincy Point...) and everyone would get along. We'll leave peacefully for a while, but then, using cunning and subterfuge we slowly annex the surrounding areas. First Dorchester, then Southie. We'll launch a few h-bombs into Weymouth because no one likes Weymouth, and move onto Braintree. Pretty soon, the suburbs will be under Quincy rule and before you can say "Appeasement" my term will be up and some poor fuck will have to try to undue the damage I've done.

Might as well just call me Jim Sheets...