Category Archives: Hilarious

Oh, so funny stuff…

Telemarketing to Telemarketers

We work from home. We get sales calls all the time for one thing or another. They never care that we’re working and that they are interrupting us.

Today Steve answered the phone to one…wanting to sell us an extended warranty on a car wehaven’t owned in awhile. Here’s what happened:

Steve: “OMG! I am so glad you called!”
SalesGuy: “Um, yeah? Me too!”
Steve: “I really think I’m going to be able to help you out today!”

And then he proceeded to give the guy a sales pitch on ExtraHelp.US, our web solution company. The guy kept trying to get a word in, but Steve kept on, telling him all the wonderful things we could do for their company, building them a customized database, a custom web design, logo creation, etc. Finally the guy said,

“Sir! I…this…well, I’m on my employer’s business line and I’m not supposed to talk about other business on it.”
Steve: “Oh, I’m sorry…it’s an inconvenient time for you?”
SalesGuy: “Yes, Sir.”
Steve: “And I bet it’s not something you need, since you didn’t ask me to call you.”
SalesGuy: “Um, well, no, Sir.”
Steve: “Huh. Now you know how I feel when guys like you call me for things I never requested while I’m trying to work.”
SalesGuy: “Uh…I…uh…I’ll take you off the list.”
Steve: “Thanks.” *click*

He said it was the most fun he’s had since he did this: Telemarketer 2005. I have to agree…it made me laugh.

Dealing with Telemarketers

I am actually pretty easy going about telemarketers. I think they should get different jobs, obviously…but I guess if that’s all they are equipped to do, then, OK. But don’t keep calling me after I have asked to be taken off your list.

It has been going on for weeks. A number I can’t call back, because it shows up as “Name Withheld” with a phone number of 1-423-1, keeps calling me. I answer, they ask for me BY NAME, and tell me they want to send me the insurance quotes I have asked for and would I verify my mailing address. They HAVE my damn mailing address!! AND my name and phone number, obviously. I refuse to verify this, because I never ASKED for any “insurance quotes”. The first time they called I told the man no, I would not be verifying anything and please remove me from his list. He said he would. Lying @$$hole.

They call every day or so. I repeated my request 4 times and then stop answering. Then? I got pissed. They won’t stop calling!! A few days ago, this happened and I answered, I again, in a not very polite way, asked them to stop.calling.me. The guy hung up on me and I thought that was that. My DH laughed and reminded me of HIS answer to scamming telemarketers. I laughed too and told him if they called back, I would do the same thing.

They called back a couple days later while I was in the car driving. I picked up the phone and I looked at him, then said, “Get ready…” I answered the phone…the man called me by name…

And I screamed bloody murder as loud as I could for as long as I could. Then I hung up.

My DH and I laughed like lunatics for a full five minutes. I figured that would get me off the list. Apparently? It got me moved to somebody else’s list.

Today they called three times in a row. My DH and I were studying in our library. The first time, I looked at him and said, “Sorry…” then answered, listened for the guy to call me by name, then I screamed my head off. We laughed like loons when I hung up, cuz the cat does not understand my new way of answering the phone, and in fact had never heard a sound like that from me. He jumped four feet straight up from a soundly sleeping curl position, and shot himself like a bullet across the room, where he stared at me with eyes the size of saucers. Poor baby.

Then the guy called back!! I did it again. Shook my head, cuz…what an idiot. He must not realize…American women are pretty sturdy. We can scream loud, and a LOT. Maybe Indian women don’t do this. The third time sounded like a different person, and I pictured them passing the headset around…I screamed as loud as I have ever screamed with all my breath. Then my DH and I collapsed into hysteria as we have both worked in call center situations and knew how they must be flummoxed over this response.

They haven’t called back, yet. I kind of hope they do. First, it was kind of fun and relieved a LOT of stress. Sort of an excuse to behave badly. Second, I want a chance to TELL them up front that if they KEEP calling, I am GOING TO keep screaming. I never thought to do that before, and I want a chance to perfect my system. Third, it might be kind of fun to get their reaction to the upfront warning. Will they hang up on me first…or wait to see if I will follow through? Should be interesting. I will update when I have more.

Moderation…maybe?

Moderation is really a difficult thing to master.  Really.  Now, most days, I can do it…but the ones I don’t keep things under control…well, I just should.

I swam today, but the pool was cold, so not enough.  Before that…I ate waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too many sugarfree [SF] chocolate covered almonds and malted milk balls left over from going to the movie with my DH the other night.

Couple of things on this.  First, no, they do not have SF candy at the theater.  My DH is diabetic, so that’s what we buy…and it’s in my purse when I enter the theater.  If they provided it, I might consider buying it there, even at the ridiculously inflated prices…but they don’t.  Sue me.

Second, SF candy…especially the chocolates and gummy things…have sugar alcohols in them.  They are NOT calorie free, but they don’t respond in the body the same as sugar does, so diabetics can usually have them without a lot of impact on their blood sugar.  I don’t usually eat too many because they also tend to create a huge amount of gas when you eat more than, say, TWO pieces.  They taste…awesome. Like real chocolate.  But the after effects…O. M. G.

I have no idea why farts are so funny.  But they so are.  Even when you’re alone.  Or watching Craig Ferguson.  Doncha love how he says “farty”?  With an h.  And rolled r’s…like “Fahhhrrrty”.  But I digress.

DH took a nap, and I was in the kitchen, just rippin’ one after another…loud…I mean, reverberators.  Which, as ladylike as I am…I rarely do.  Heh.  But not smelly.  Men are really good at the stinky ones.  Really good.  THOSE are not funny unless they’re yours.

So, I couldn’t help it, I decided to just get it out.  Better out than in, is what I have always heard, right?  But then I got laughing.  The cat looked at me after one of the more offensively booming ones, and the expression on his face just sent me into a giggle fit.  Of course, when you’re full of air it’s sort of a lather/rinse/repeat phenomenon. Gas/giggle/gas/giggle/gas/giggle/gas…

I have finally caught my breath, and I still cannot for the life of my figure out why they are so funny.  And yet…the laughing felt pretty darn good.  Maybe good enough to have just another piece or two…and let the good times roll.

Addendum: DH is now awake and I am still um, airing out. At the first sound he looked at me with shock and said “Holy Criminy! WHAT was THAT?”

I smiled and said, “That was me letting all the other men on earth know that I am taken.”

Snowy Christmas Eve

OK, normally, I avoid shopping on Christmas Eve like the plague. I had no choice today, because I have been out of town and we had no food. So…off to Walmart I went. It was raining, and cold, with a winter storm warning just a few hours away.

It was as I expected. Crowded, crazy, loaded with grumpy, selfish, rude people. Standing in big clumps in the aisles…thinking over their choices like no one else is trying to get anything done and it’s all about them. They are more special and therefore, entitled to cut in front of you or waste your time arguing with the clerk over $0.03 on one tiny thing in the checkout line when they have 500 tiny little items left to ring up.

I continued on, trying to stay out of the way of the nutballs. It was like an obstacle course…evasive action and strategic corrections were needed often. I was in a completely defensive mode, just trying to keep from being hit. I actually laughed out loud, though, when I overheard a young couple at their cart.

He, manning the cart filled with groceries and one toddler: “OK, how are we going to manage this…that aisle is completely blocked. I don’t think I can get in there.”
She, pregnant with #2: “Stay here. I’ll go get it and come back.”
He: “OK, be careful…”
She: “I will. OK. Wait here. I’m going in.”

I busted out laughing and they grinned at me, as she sprinted into the crowded aisle.

“Brave.” I said to him as I scooted past.
“Yeah. That’s my girl.” he said.

I turned down a mostly empty lane to cut over to the other side of the grocery section. When I came out of the aisle there was a cart stopped in front of me. A couple my age, again, the man behind the cart.

He: “Ooh! Sorry!”
She: “Honey! I told you, this is serious stuff! You can’t just STOP in the lane. You’ll kill someone!”

Again, I burst out laughing. She grinned at me and said, “Sorry. He’s an amateur.”

I swear, I couldn’t stop laughing then.

A woman in shiny copper go go boots and a faux fur coat telling her teenager to get chips:

Kid: “What kind of chips?”
Faux Fur Lady: “Those ruffly kind…you know. And we’ll get some dip…”
Kid: “We have dip at home, right?”
FFL: “I’m NOT eating THAT dip.”

LOL…okaaaay. Poor kid.

Once I started laughing, everythingsnow122409 got better, or at least seemed easier to deal with. I walked out of the store into a full on winter storm. Snow, cold, wind howling. Now I am home…fire going, cat curled next to the laptop, Snuggie on. Yes, I have one…actually, I have two. So.  Make fun if you will. They are warm.

Not planning to leave the house for a couple days. By then it should be sunny and 70F. It is Texas, after all. Merry Christmas, y’all.

The Cheapest Christmas Gift Ever

You all know Ansel, my cat, the love of my life, my sweetie boy. Some of you have met him, some have seen his videos on YouTube or his stuff on Cafepress…and the folks here in Blogland have mostly been subjected to stories about him. Well, today is one of those days. He’s at it again.

Let me preface this by saying I do try to get video whenever possible. I like to document the cuteness, so it doesn’t seem like me just thinking he’s cute when he’s not. He just really is. Heh. But when he is hunting, there can be no camera present. If the camera comes out, he is immediately attracted to it and feels the need to rub on it or bite it, but not to continue to do what he was doing that was cute enough to want to film it in the first place. It’s some sort of rule.

This morning it’s windy & cold here in the Metroplex, like windchill in the teens overnight and an expected high of 40F today. Oh, now…no need to feel bad for me. It will be 65F on Christmas day. When it’s cold, Ansel is pretty full of…well, it is something like piss & vinegar, but with some firecrackers & moonshine thrown in. He’s whiny, and wants EVERYTHING…and yet, doesn’t. He wants his food dish full, and he does eat a lot more when it’s cold out. We don’t keep our house exceptionally warm, because the utility costs here are insanely high. So, for Steve and I, we just keep it at 66F and throw a log in every so often. Ansel loves that Daddy can make the hole in the wall so bright and warm and he will lie in his bed in front of it for hours. But there is no warm in the fireplace yet. So he cries for me to come look at his food dish. I get up, go into the bedroom, and I look. It’s full. I say “What??” and he just purrs and squeaks at me. I go back and sit down. I try to work, maybe type something, upload a design…something. He cries from the depths of the house. I go, again…and he purrs and squeaks. Maybe he thinks he’s my personal trainer or something. He will cry to have the drapes open, presumably so he can look outside. He may look out for a minute. Then he walks away. Or…like this morning…it turns into the beginning of…THE HUNT.

My front room is called the “library”, because we don’t “live” in it, we live in the family room. But the books all live in the front room…5 bookcases, 7 feet high. So. The library. Yes. I know. The internet, blah, blah…we like books. We have law books, nursing books, tech books, metaphysical and new age books, religious books, books about Christmas, books of bedtime stories…lots of books. I have two copies of one book, because it’s out of print and my Mom gave it to me and I lost that copy in a divorce. So, compensating, I guess. I know…I’m DIGRESSING, anyhow…

I have no idea what goes on in his head…truly, I would pay big money to know. But I am a slave to it, either way. Packages come in the front door from various delivery trucks…FedEx, UPS, USPS…and they get opened on the floor of the library. Ansel is rightthere to see what’s in them. He’s curious…he’s a cat, and this thing just came into his house. I get it. But then? He falls completely in love with the packaging. I currently have 4 boxes and a 15 foot long crunched up craft paper snake in the middle of the library floor. These? Are “cat toys”. I know, little furry mouse. Tiny balls with bells inside. Sticks with strings hanging. Bah. My cat has his own jungle made of cardboard and paper.

He lurves cardboard. He rubs on it and paws at it and lies on it, in it…he even rides it.

Cardboard is his favorite toy, and I have loads of it. It comes and goes. The two cardboard carpets are gone and now he has the boxes. One of these boxes came with the most wonderful surprise…the paper snake.

It must be a cheaper filler than bubble wrap, which honestly, is more my thing than his…but Amazon spared no expense on the paper filling in this particular box. It’s craft paper, about 3 feet wide…comes on a roll. They apparently stretched out a length of it and crunched and twisted it into a snake. The snake, as I mentioned, is easily 15 feet long. It came with 2 smaller snakes, each about 4 feet long. Ansel? Adores these paper reptiles.

And this morning, the paper snake is the prey.

He sits in the dining room, seemingly unaware of the fact that a giant slithering paper monster has entered the house and is planning to have his beloved Mama for breakfast. Then…out of the corner of his eye…he sees it! He hides his 14 pound furriness behind the 3″ leg of the dining room table to stalk the snake. When the time is right, he streaks into action in a spotted blur…across the dining room, down the hall, into the library and pounces on the snake…he grabs it and rolls over with it, disorienting it and wrestling it into submission. The sound is like all the presents in the country being opened on Christmas morning simultaneously, in stereo surround sound. Really. It’s the most amazing din…made by one miniature Leopard hunting one really long paper snake. So, he kills it…paper carnage all over the library. Then, satisfied that I am safe, he walks away. Until…wait! What was that? A silent rustling…there! The beast! It stills lives! He leaps on it and kills it…again. He crawls inside along the length of the belly of the beast to make sure it’s dead. He goes back to the dining room and it starts all over…many, many times. He is the Snake Hunter.

No big deal, just another day in the life of Ansel keeping Mama safe from paper beasts. He never gets tired of it. I never get tired of watching it. Cheapest Christmas present ever.

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Please consider joining my Kiva lending team, Friends of Write2B. I get nothing out of it, except a warm fuzzy that I am helping another working adult to advance their business and keep their families fed, clothed and well. Not a charity, not a hand out. A loan. Awesome concept.

Cat A Pult

He was not a happy camper, because of the picture taking, but if I had tried to put an actual hat on him, I would be limbless right now.
He was not a happy camper, because of the picture taking, but if I had tried to put an actual hat on him, I would be limbless right now.

Poor Ansel…I bet there are moments he wonders if my adoption [read: abduction] of him was in his best interest.

Example: I was walking back to the recliner after a trip to the bathroom. He was on the back of the chair…his favorite spot when I am working on the laptop. He was being a good boy. Just lying there. Being good.

I stopped and patted him and kissed him and loved on him as I went by…so, not like I didn’t know he was there. And then? I forgot before I got my butt into the chair and nearly launched him over my right shoulder into the fireplace.

The look he gave me was priceless.

I apologized…between giggles…for about 5 minutes.

He? Was NOT amused.

Poor cat. He coulda had a smarter Mama, methinks.

He didn’t leave the back of the chair, but he does have his tail wrapped around my neck. As a warning, I guess. Not sure who for, but that’s where it is.

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Please consider joining my Kiva lending team, Friends of Write2B. I get nothing out of it, except a warm fuzzy that I am helping another working adult to advance their business and keep their families fed, clothed and well. Not a charity, not a hand out. A loan. Awesome concept.

I am Anti-Fungal

Not like, fun gal…I am totally a fun gal, ask anyone. But, Zoe sent this to me, saying: “Never has there been a more appropriate description of why I don’t eat fungus. Or kidney pie. Or any other food born of cast-off parts.” And? I couldn’t agree more…

Click for bigness... Sheldon is one of the funniest comics ever.