Archive for November, 2006

At one time, I used to pay my Sunoco credit card online using a multi-bill pay service (I have since forgotten the name of it). For some reason or another, Sunoco decided to stop offering payment options with that service, and rolled over to their own. They sent out a couple of notifications regarding this change, and I promptly ignored them all.

So, as it goes, my last payment to Sunoco via the bill pay service went unpaid (money never came out of my account, money never went to Sunoco). No big deal, really. My fault, not Sunoco’s. But the problem came when my next bill came in and I found there was a hold because the account was 30 days past due. Again, my fault, not Sunoco’s.

Now, wanting to do the right thing, I went online to register a new account with the new bill pay service. I entered all of my information, hit send and… declined.

Thinking I entered in something wrong, I submitted my info again and hit send and… declined.

So I called the number offered to figure out what the hell was going on. After the lady got my information, we got to the root of the problem.

“Your account is on hold because it’s past due,” she explained.

“I know,” I said. “That’s why I’m trying to register online. So I can pay it.”

“You can’t register online until the account is brought up to date.”

“I can’t bring the account up to date until I can register online.”

“Yes, sir, but your account is on hold. So you can’t register online.”

“Wait,” I said. I was confused. It felt like I was Mark Wahlbergh in Boogie Nights and I was trying to get the masters of my recordings (You can’t get a record contract if the record company can’t hear what you’ve got!). “So you’re saying because my bill is past due, I can’t set up an account online to pay the bill. That is past due.”

“Yes.”

“Do you realize how retarded that is?”

She laughed. “Yes. It’s silly, and I’m sorry. If it were up to me, it wouldn’t be this way.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll send something out today or tomorrow.”

“Well I can take a check by phone, if you want. That will get your account up to date. There would be a service charge.”

“What’s the service charge?”

“13 dollars.”

I laughed. Not in humor, but in disbelief.

“Wait, are you fucking telling me that I can’t pay my late bill online because it’s late, but I can pay you right now for 13 extra dollars?”

She laughed again. “Sadly, yes.”

“Wow. Just. Wow. No, I think I’ll pass on that bargain.”

We said our goodbyes and I went to my bank’s website, set it up and paid through the bank.

I should’ve done that in the first place.

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Off in on through out the weekend, I modded my book blog and yesterday afternoon I moved the final picture over.

A lot of work (with the mods, not the actual move), but it was well worth it. It’s a completely different layout than this one, and that’s one of the things I really like about it. Plus you can change the pictures that sit on the top with the click of a button.

I think the hard part is to be disciplined enough to keep it up.

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I moved my second blog off blogger Friday night, and it was a painless process.

Today, I have spent most of the morning updating a theme for the damn blog that I may or may not use, but I love working with WordPress, so I can’t complain too much.

But, the best part is, I am now “this” close to being blogger free. Once I grab the book covers from my old blog, I am done.

Plus I’m hoping if I like the new layout more, I’ll update it more. Because, between the two blogs, I tend to like the Metro Reading one a little more. I have no idea why, it just seems a little more fulfilling to me (even though I suck at updating it, but I hope I will have more discipline once it’s completely moved).

Good times, indeed.

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I went to the movies tonight with a couple of my friends to partake in 8 Films to Die For — After Dark Horrorfest. Basically, it’s eight lesser known (lower budgeted) horror films making a run this weekend.

We caught Penny Dreadful (which SUCKED) and The Abandoned (which was not bad, but too long).

But this isn’t about the films.

This about the idiots that go to the movies, and why they have to always sit behind me.

Why do some people (in particular, teenagers) get confused when they go to the movies and think they are really at home? The last two times I’ve gone to the movies, including this time, I’ve had some knucklehead girls behind me using their playground voice to discuss the happenings on the film.

So, as I’m trying to watch The Abandoned, I’m hearing giggling behind me. And chatter. Mindless, irrelevant, teenage girl chatter. Blech.

At one particular part in the film, the character is getting on a boat. I knew this not only because it was on the screen, but Chatty Cathy behind me said, “She’s getting on the boat.” That is what it was like.

Finally, I turned around and looked at them. “Hey,” I said, “I know you are into the film, but I really don’t need a blow by blow on what’s going on the screen.”

“Huh?” One of the rocket scientists asked.

“Could you quiet down?”

The girls kind of slunk in their chair. “Oh, sorry,” one said. A little meekly. I almost felt bad. Almost, but not really. Because, shit, if their parents aren’t going to train them how to act in a public theater, someone has to. I’m hoping I did the next person who sits in front of them in the theater a favor.

There was a dude with them, too. I was mildly concerned he would raise a ruckus for me telling his women to quiet down, but he didn’t say a word. Not because he was scared of me — I won’t even act like I’m Tough Tony. I think it was because I did something that he probably wanted to do the entire movie, but he didn’t want to look like the bad guy. I can live with looking like the bad guy in situations like this.

Because the rest of the film was sweet silence.

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So Joy, my sister, calls me up at work today.

“Hey,” she said, “do you know what’s on your birth certificate? Is it junior, or something else?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, why not?”

“Because I don’t.”

“You don’t know what’s on your birth certificate?”

“I haven’t looked at it in 20 years. How the fuck would I know what was on it?” I said, exasperated.

“Do you have a passport?”

“No. I don’t have a passport.” I said, sarcastically. I have been to three countries in as many years. Of course I had a passport.

She hung up on me.

This is a normal conversation for us.

Now there was reason she was asking. My sister is getting married, but she’s not getting married in the States. She’s going all out and getting married tropical style. Which rocks. Not only does she deserve it, but I don’t have to wear a suit. And I already know what I’m going to wear.

Light linen pants with a Hawaiian shirt. With flip-flops. Definitely flip-flops. I’m gonna be all Sonny Crockett and shit.

I can’t wait.

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