Say That Again?!

Someone just called looking for a person whose name she pronounced as Ah-REE-Kah. I know there are some funny names out there, but this was a first for me. I asked the lady to spell the name. This is what she spelled:

E-r-i-c-a

Here it is the 21st century, and this lady has never seen the name Erica before? Never had a friend named Erica? A classmate? An acquaintance? Ever?

I wonder what color is the sky on her planet.

Secret Agent Homeless Man

Last Saturday, as I was driving down 95th Street, I passed the boarded-up Dunkin Donuts near Ashland Avenue. (Actually, it's closer to Bishop Ave, but who's heard of Bishop?) It always surprises me to see it-- I have never seen a DD go out of business here in Chicago. I guess there are a number of reasons why this store went belly up. I know of one in particular that convinced me to take my business elsewhere.

The thing that I loved about this Dunkin Donuts is that it had a drive-through window. I could get my Dunkaccino fix without ever leaving the car.

I was doing just that one late evening several years ago. As I sat at the pay window waiting impatiently for my super-sized cup of sugar and caffeine, a homeless guy walked up to my driver side door, asking for spare change. I told him I didn't have any change, which was true. The only money I had on me was the $20 I just got out of the ATM. (No, I didn't tell him that part! Give me some credit!)

But then he just stood there. Suddenly, it occurred to me that it occurred to him that I would certainly have some change once I paid for my items. How nervy!

It's at this point that the cashier returned to the window for my payment. I looked at her, went "Uh...," then looked back at the homeless guy. That was my eloquent way of saying that I had no intention of flashing my cash to an audience. The cashier immediately leaned out of the window and said something like, "Is that homeless man back?"

And here's where it got surreal. Like some kind of homeless spy, he pressed himself flat against the brick wall of Dunkin Donuts, where the cashier couldn't see past the window's ledge. Then he placed a finger to his lips in a "Shh" manner for me to keep his location a secret.

Wait. How the heck did we become partners in this endeavor? Apparently, in Secret Agent Homeless Man's mind, I should join him in his fight against the tyranny of the Dunkin Donut cashier for the freedom of hassling her customers for money.

Well, no. Absolutely not. In this case, I am a big fan of tyranny. I can't get enough of Dunkin Donuts' iron-fisted authority. So, I immediately busted the guy out, and he went scampering into the night.

Needless to say, that was my LAST visit to that DD. And judging from the cashier's comments, SAHM was a regular visitor. Consequently, I'm pretty sure they lost a lot of customers that way.

New and Improved!

So, when I first created this blog, I was really new to the whole blog-making concept. And let me tell you, I was overwhelmed. So many templates and designs and backgrounds and fonts and widgets and... Whew!

Needless to say, the look of my blog was a little claustrophobic. But my half-baked design took sooo long (three agonizing days!), that I said Screw It, Good Enough! Also, at the time, I had an older version of IE, which made working the Template Designer feel like I was using an Excel spreadsheet on a calculator watch. It was frustrating, is what I am saying.

Fast forward to today. I've got a more compatible version of IE, and some spare time. I had only planned to just play around with the Template Designer, but I stumbled upon a design I really love. It's certainly not original (it's one of the standard templates without any tweaks from me), but it's a breath of fresh air compared to what I had.

One more thing I found: I was able to change my settings so anybody can comment on my blog. I have gotten a lot of flack about that in the past. And I thought I couldn't change that. Looks like I can. Imagine that. Of course, this opens me up to possible abuse from trolls, but I'll burn that bridge when I get to it.

So, feast your eyes on the beauty that is my revamped blog. You're welcome (smiley face).

High in Fiber

I can walk and chew gum. I can also pat my head and rub my tummy at the same time. (I AM multi-talented!) But apparently I cannot handle food and drive a car simultaneously. I've proved that with my misadventure at a Wendy's drive-through. Here is another example of my need to keep both hands at the 10 and 2 positions.

So, I'm driving home from work one evening, and I'm completely starving. Luckily, I still have two plums left over from lunch in my bag. While navigating the heavy rush-hour traffic on Canal Street, I manage to unzip my lunch bag and dig out one of the plums.

And man was that thing delicious! It was also gone in about four bites, which was a complete tease! But that's why I packed a second plum-- to keep the deliciousness going!

Determined to make the second plum last longer, I take smaller bites. I'm about three bites in when I come across the sticker. Dang! I'll need two hands to remove it, and downtown Chicago traffic is not the place to try out my no-handed driving skills. I am forced to wait until I reach a traffic light before I can continue eating my awesomely tasty plum.

Hey, wait a minute...

I didn't have a sticker issue with plum #1. Huh. Maybe the plum didn't have a sticker.

Oh, who am I kidding? Every plum that I packed in my lunch this week had a sticker on it. And I was too busy shoving plum #1 into my pie-hole to really look at it.

Let's face it: I ate that sticker.

Oh well, that sticker was delicious.

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Financial Advice FROM Dummies

Sadly, I know very little about finance, investments and/or the stock market. And I'm the first to admit that I could benefit from sound financial advice. However, it doesn't take a genius to tell the difference between good advice and the warped (read: illegal) recommendations from the functionally insane.

My former coworker, Brian, passed a gem onto me that I thought I would share. You may remember Brian as the guy who thought it was perfectly legal to sell photocopies of textbooks to the students of the local college where we both once worked (using the college's copy machine, no less!). I guess you can best describe him as a dangerous combination of drive and ineptness.

Anyway, Brian and I were sitting around one slow afternoon talking about... um... Shoot, I can't remember! But it was definitely about something I couldn't afford, because that's why Brian advised me on a "good way" to get some fast cash. And not just any advice, but something that he's road-tested himself!

The Advice:

• Write a check to yourself from your own checkbook. (Is your checking account at a zero balance? That's cool. Write that bad boy anyway!)


• Deposit the check back into the same account via your bank's ATM machine. (Fortunately, an ATM can't tell the difference between a real deposit and this rubber-tastic one.)


• Use the same ATM to withdraw a portion of the funds. (Of course, this was back during the halcyon days when ATMs let you withdraw money from current deposits. Why can't you do that anymore? This is why.)


• Congratulations, you are now flush with funds! Spend it as wisely as you obtained it!

Wow. Just wow. I mean, I'm not a criminal mastermind, but with Google's help, I do know that most check kiting scams involve two or more banks-- so that there's a delay before the scammers are found out. But if you perpetrate fraud on only one bank, then it will take them less than a day to discover that you are a scheming moron.

When asked, Brian told me that the bank refrained from pressing criminal charges (maybe because the damages were less than $1000), but his account was immediately closed (surprise!), and since then he had been unable to open a new checking account anywhere else.

The kicker is that he was recommending this plan to me. He still thought this was a good idea in case of an emergency. I can't imagine what that emergency could be. Maybe I'm in desperate need of the free room and board offered by Cook County Jail, but I'm too squeamish to assault somebody?

You know, I haven't seen Brian in several years. Maybe he had one "good" idea too many.

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The Mens Room: An Adventure in Stupidity

First, let's start off with a brief introduction. Hi, my name is Diana, and I am a girl. Okay, now that we have that established, let me tell you about my first (and absolutely, positively LAST) visit to a Mens Room.

At this particular temp position, my desk was almost directly across from the Mens Room, with the Ladies Room waaaaay on the other side of the floor.

So, it's the end of the day, and I'm gathering my stuff to leave when I figure it's a good idea to make a quick pit stop. I look at my watch-- I've got about 10 minutes until my shuttle leaves. By the time I make the monumental trek to the restroom and back to the elevators, there's a good chance I may miss my bus, and then I'd have to wait a whole 15 minutes at the job for the next one. UNACCEPTABLE. All the while, I keep eyeing that Mens Room door across the aisle from me. Man, wouldn't it be convenient if that was the Ladies Room?!

Hmm... Well, this is the end of the day, and it is a Friday. Practically everyone has long gone. As a matter of fact, it's been at least 15-20 minutes since anyone has walked past my desk (which is on the way out). I could just zip in, take care of a little quick business, and zip right back out without anyone being the wiser. Piece of cake!

Phase One of my plan (Zip In!) is executed without a hitch. However, I've almost completed Phase Two (Taking Care of Business!) when my plan goes right into the crapper-- pun intended. I hear the door open and someone walks in. I'm almost 99% sure it's a guy (it being the Mens Room, and all). This jumps to 100% when I hear him walk up to and use the urinal. Fortunately, there's a wall that separates the stalls from the urinals, so I can't see his legs, and more importantly, he can't see mine! I hold my breath the entire time the guy is in there, and I breathe a sigh of relief when he finally exits.

Whew! Okay. I can't get too relaxed because I still have one more phase to my Once-a-Piece-of-Cake-but-Now-a-Piece-of-Something-Else-Entirely Plan. In other words, I still need to Zip Out! This, however, has now become the most difficult part of the plan. I don't want to leave too soon and run into the guy that just left. And I don't want to wait too long and run the risk of bumping into another male patron with a full bladder.

I dither for an eternity (probably a minute), and then rush out. (And no I don't stop to wash my hands. That got sacrificed for the greater good. Besides, that's why they invented hand sanitizer!) When I get back to my desk, I look around. No one has seen me. Hurray! Phase Three was a success. And I still managed to get out in time to catch my shuttle!

So, did the ends justify the means? No, no and NO! I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever visit a Mens Room again. Ever.

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There's a dress shop out there that's about to be pissed off tomorrow!

Just overheard someone calling her bank to put a Stop on a check she just wrote. Apparently, she just purchased a "very expensive" dress, and then promptly left it in a cab. Her solution to her predicament, and I repeat, is to STOP PAYMENT ON THE DRESS.

Here's my question: Did she write the check to the cab driver?

Here's my next question: Did the dress shop force her to leave the dress in the cab?

Looks like the dress shop is going to pay for her stupidity.

I hope they have a good lawyer.

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