Top 10 Things to say to a "Pre-Approved Credit Card" telemarketer (one called me this morning and woke me up so I wrote this list)

10. Tell them "No thanks, I already have loads of cash." (this is the one that I actually use and it works every time)
9. Say "That sounds good, now if you could just give me your mothers maiden name for confirmation of identity we can continue getting my information."
8. Keep repeating, "Yes but who is this credit bard?"
7. Ask them if you can get 5 cards because you "love playing online blackjack."
6. Ask them if you can get a card with Abraham Lincolns picture on it. If they say no than accuse them of hating America.
5. Make them explain to you why its called a Platinum card if it is made out of plastic.
4. Ask if they could overnight the card to you because you are binging and just ran out of cash.
3. Ask them to repeat the line about low APR because "it sounded so sexy."
2. Tell the telemarketer, "Sorry, I don't actually live here. From what I've observed the home owners are out of town."
1. Tell them that your planing on filing bankruptcy so the sooner they could get it to you the better.

Lip Service

(picture not of actual mustache)

Having more hair on my head than the common 3 toed sloth, I am well versed in the subject of dandruff. My pale white head dries up and shares itself with the world in the form of tiny snow like flakes. Now I know there are products out there to prevent such problems. In fact, I have anti-dandruff shampoo in my shower and use it often. However, yesterday, I discovered that I had a different problem, mustache dandruff. This is a disorder that I had in the past joked about but didn't believe really existed. I have never seen a product directed at amending this condition so naturally I thought that mustache dandruff wasn't real. Where are the commercials featuring guys with their handlebars and their embarrassing secret, dry lip. "Dry lip," they would say, "used to control my life. I couldn't be a lip hair model because of the embarrassing flakes. But now theres a solution, Pro-Upper lip. It not only eliminates mustache dander, it gives your stash a bright, bristly, healthy sheen." Actually, I think I will just ignore my dry lip and maybe it will go away. Until then though, everyone try to avoid kissing me passionately.

Taking Life one Nickle at a Time

One Nickle at a Time

I went to the self checkout line. Its supposed to be fast right? The only people in front of me were the people currently using the machines. This should be quick enough I thought to myself. Then it all started. The lady on machine 2 started attempting to pay for her $16 worth of groceries with nickels. She would put the nickel in and it would be rejected. She continued trying the same defective nickel, over and over. In and than out, in and out again, 5 times in a row she tried that nickel. Maybe a different nickel will work she thought rummaging through her pocket full of change, nope, no nickels would work.

Now I've heard that the last moments of your life are in slow motion. If thats the case than the lady on machine number 4 was on the brink of death. The grim reaper must have been in the parking lot knocking on her Honda's door. It looked as if she was taking a sabbatical in between each item scan. Perhaps she was in deep thought as to how many plastic bags were needed to complete the job or maybe she had very week arms. I'm not sure.

Things seemed to be going well on machine 1, that is until she got the "show cashier your id" warning. Attempting to show cashier her ID proved hopeless, he was busy counting nickels and talking to an old acquaintance. "I have lots of friends who work here," the friend quipped, "that should help me get a job right?" Looking up for a moment the cashier realized that the lady was old enough to be his mother and approved her to purchase alcohol. Apparently wanting to die quicker than the slow motion lady, she added a few packs of cigarettes to her order sending the cashier hiking across the store.

I'm not certain what happened to the guy on machine number 3. The machine refused me service after he had left. Why, because it was busy, too busy for me. Yes I did eventually buy my groceries and no my frozen dinners didn't melt. There is no real point to this story. I could put a moral about patience here but whats the point.

No Fries for Dany Boy

Danny Boy Doesn’t Like the Fries

I had walked passed him many times, generally giving a polite nod but trying to to slow down too much. His name was Danny, but I of course didn't used to know that. He would often hang out in front of the post office, occasionally bumming money but more often rummaging through the trash for food. I remember one time seeing him pull a half head of lettuce out of the can and thinking to myself, "thats not a bad find, I would eat that." Truth is though, I wouldn't. The streets weren't kind to him. He had straggly, dirty hair, and no upper teeth. The teeth that he had left on the bottom were half rotted and would soon also be gone.

As I was leaving the Post Office he whispered to me that he was hungry so we took my car to Wendie's for a burger and soda. No fries though, as it turns out he doesn't care for Wendie's fries. There's just something different about them, those and Frishes fries. Maybe its the grease. He shared with me that he had ruined his liver from all of the drinking that he used to do and he had just had a heart attack a week or two ago. Danny was in bad shape. He told me that he was wearing his only set of clothes and that the drop in shelter wouldn't let him use the shower. He said that sometimes he could make decent money at the Bengals games but there was often too many people holding the same signs. He wasn't a sports fan. I dropped him back off up the street from where we had met and continued home. The whole experience had cost me a grand total of $3 and 10 minutes of tv watching time. There are a lot of Dannys in the world. You can make a difference, small differences, one Danny at a time.