Pimping myself out?

Well, someone out there in Cyberworld decided to wreak havoc in Funkytown by compromising our credit/debit card. I think the word "compromise" is too nice. You can put yourself into a compromising position and actually enjoy it - if you know what I mean! This was flat-out, blatant thievery. Funny, our bank branch had just been robbed a few days before. Having my bank account DRAINED of every last dime was akin to said bank robber walking in, handing the teller a note that said, "Give me ALL of Kathy's money" and running off with it. EXCEPT if that had been the case, the bank WOULD HAVE BELIEVED ME.

After the shock of watching all of our money (hard lesson learned - "Don't put all your eggs in one basket") drained in a matter of less than an hour, came the shock of trying to convince the bank that no, I didn't clone myself, drive to California and go on a shopping spree with a cloned card since the husband was also using it at the same time. Besides, I NEVER shop at Walmart. If I must, it's only under duress. And if I was going to drain my checking account I would pick a much better place than Walmart or cellular stores or a friggin' flashlight store. No, it would be more like Macy's and Barnes and Noble! There would definitely be a Nook Tablet tucked away in my stocking in the hopes that I would forget about it until Christmas and be really shocked when I opened it (trust me, that could very well happen!) Here comes the pimping myself out: I really want/need to win this contest so here goes and then we will resume the sad tale of financial woes: http://the-cheap.net/2011/11/06/win-a-100-barnes-and-noble-e-gift-card-in-our-thanksgiving-thank-you-giveaway/

The bank put me under scrutiny with security questions -- questions that were not easy to answer. In fact, I failed the first set and was sent to the Exasperations Department (that's what I truly believe the agent said with a deep, heavy sigh like I was the biggest idiot on earth). I actually failed a question on a former place of employment. She said XYZ Company of L.A. I said no. Then I retracted said answer and said I had worked for XYZ Company of Lansing. But by that time, I could hear her sighing and dialing up the Exasperations Department and probably wondering how in the world some idiot couldn't remember where they worked. Trust me, I still have nightmares about working there so I will never forget. If it had been in L.A., it might have been more tolerable.

Next, the Exasperations Department hit me with questions about what model of car I drove in 2002 (a used red Saab). Model unknown to me. It was red, that's what mattered. And I loved that car. I fully believed it loved me back because it saved me from great bodily injury in an accident. I just never bothered to learn the model number. I took a shot in the dark and got that one right!

After spending hours on the phone testifying that no, I didn't use my card and just decided I didn't want to pay for my flashlight, I was informed it would take 10 days for all this mess to shake out. Luckily the bank (this could only happen on a banking holiday) did allow me to take out money to see us through (Oh, did I mention the furnace that went out at the same time? Or how about the bum breaker that needed to be replaced? Because when things go wrong in Funkytown, it's just a matter of time before the locusts arrive.)

So, we wait. And I pimp myself out on my blog in a sad attempt to win a gift card that I will put to good use (I promise there will be no evil involved!). Hopefully by Thanksgiving we will have the mess sorted out.

But in the meantime, we count our blessings. Really, having the bank account drained is just a small road bump. I can't laugh about it but I can reflect on all the good things in our lives and give thanks: our good health, a happy teenager (most of the time), "us" in general, our families and friends, and the fact that we have jobs in this lousy economy that makes people steal from others via cyberthievery.

While I wait for this all to shake out, I'm going to volunteer at the local soup kitchen because there but for the grace of God go I (and this has not been an easy time). Once it has, I will also shop for my little Angel off the Giving Tree at Church. My little guy wants cars and trucks. Well, he'll get that plus some books on cars and trucks, too (told you I would use the Barnes and Noble gift card for good!) because I really believe that books make the world a better place. Who knows, my little Angel in need might end up being the next great car designer! Maybe a little red Saab with the model name of "Angel."

Move over, Anthony Weiner ... Technology is not my friend, either

Sunday morning found me helping a friend at an art fair sell her felted wares. In between customers, we were discussing Anthony Weiner's ... um ... shortcomings in the cover your ass (and in his case, appendages) department. I said, "I wouldn't want him to be my representative. He doesn't even know how to tweet on Twitter. What a Twit!"

Then Technology Karma bit me right in my assets.

Two women (whom I didn't recognize at the time) came into the booth and said, "Kathy! How are you?" I said I was fine while flipping through the Rolodex in my ever-faltering memory in hopes of placing who they were. Nothing. One of them asked about my family. We dispensed quickly with the niceties. Then the other asked how things were going with my boyfriend. BOYFRIEND. Haven't had one of those in about 16-plus years. (It was at this point that my felting art fair friend stopped talking mid-conversation with a would-be customer to hear about my boyfriend. Trust me, it's hard to quiet her down when she gets on a roll about needlefelting.)

"Ummmm, I don't have a boyfriend." I held up my wedding ring as evidence. That didn't stop this person. "How long have you been married?" "16 years." "Are you sure?" "Unfortunately, yes." Was I sure????? Was this going to be one of those moments a la Dallas where I step out of the art fair booth unmarried with a boyfriend and the past 17 or 18 years have been a dream? More importantly -- IS THIS BOYFRIEND CUTE?????????????

"We saw you at a Mexican restaurant a year ago with your boyfriend. You were soooo excited! I've been wondering how things were going with you two." Well, probably not very well if I couldn't even remember this guy. (And a side note: I have many, many digestive issues so I would not, under any circumstances, be on a date at a Mexican restaurant unless I was just there for the Margaritas!)

By now the questioning woman is being elbowed by her companion telling her that it must have been a different Kathy. The questioner said, "No, it wasn't! So, Kathy, how is your son?" "The kid is fine." Probably will upset his world to find out his mother is having a fling she can't remember (nah, probably not -- he knows my memory is quickly going.) She then turned to her companion and said, "See, it is the right Kathy. I KNEW she had a son." The companion quickly said they had to be going. Nice to see you. Hope to see you again sometime, but not at a Mexican restaurant with your boyfriend because you are so trying to cover your tracks now, or at least that was the expression on her face.

They left in a haste. My artsy friend was left cracking up and saying how surprised B.O.B. was going to be. I was left wanting to know if he was cute and why couldn't I remember him. If I'm going to have an affair, it damn well better be memorable.

Oh, this was too good. I had to post this to facebook. I had my trusty Droid in the pocket of my cargo pants. My fingers started typing away ... and then the booth was filled with people. I put the phone in my pocket without locking the screen. Oh, Anthony Weiner, move over, this is where it gets embarrassing ...

The phone has a touch screen. From the movement against the fabric of the pocket, I started friending people on facebook. I "think" it friended EVERYONE on the recommended list. When I pulled my phone out later, it was no longer on the screen I had left it at. I didn't think anything of it until I started getting confirmations from people who had accepted my friend request. People I didn't know. People I hardly knew. Then it dawned on me ... I had POCKET FRIENDED PEOPLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Most of them, I was very happy to be friends with. One, a co-worker, not so much, just because we spend all day with each other. We had agreed from the onset of working together that we would never friend each other. She found it odd that I had friended her. So did I until the giant light bulb went off in my head.

Now I have Pocket Pals on facebook! At least my technological misfortune won't lead to a walk of shame right out of the House of Representatives.

Fee-fi-fo-Funk

Evidence that either the muscle relaxers or painkillers are affecting my brain:

Me: You know, if we were having Leo today, I would have campaigned to name him "Finn." I like that name. It's cool.

B.O.B.: I like it. Finn Funk. It has a nice ring to it.

Me: Oh, Finn Funk. I hadn't thought about the whole name.

B.O.B.: I like it, I really like it!

Me (while hoping B.O.B. isn't considering adopting a would-be Finn Funk): Of course you would. You wanted to name our sweet, innocent baby Gustav Ulysses Funk and call him "Goof."

At least I have an excuse for my momentary lack of naming judgment. B.O.B. doesn't. And, boy, would our now teenaged bundle of joy hate us (even more because teenagers don't need much of an excuse to hate their parents) if I had been under the influence of prescribed drugs back then. Gustav might have prevailed.

How I Spent Lent ...

by Little Kathy Funk
(OK, I'm not as little as I used to be)

The menfolk threw down a challenge to me while I was pondering what sort of self-denial I was going to endure for the 44 days of Lent. Give up Pop (or Co-Cola, to my southern relatives)? Nope, gave that up during a Biggest Loser contest at work. Smoothies? I live off Smoothies for lunch ... but I could give up the most decadent (from my perspective): Peanut Butter Cup (stock tip for anyone out there looking to invest: Tropical Smoothie. I'm keeping them in business.) Fast food? TV? Been there, gave up that and that. It was about that time Leo started snickering a sadistic little snicker: "How about facebook, Mom? I bet you can't give up facebook." "What?" I muttered as I looked up from posting something to fb from my phone. "Dad, do you think Mom could give up facebook?" B.O.B. laughed and said, "NO WAY!" They both cackled as I looked on knowing full well I could show them ... and exercise a little self-denial all at the same time.

But first I had to post that I was leaving fb and would return in 44 days.

To tell you the truth, it was harder giving up the Peanut Butter Cup Smoothie than it was fb. How did I while away the extra time? Did I become a better person? Did I spend more time with my family? Did I take the dog for a walk every night like I keep promising him? Did I find a way to help my fellow man instead of opining about my ineptitude as a cook or wishing it were Friday or whatever else I had to whine about on fb?

Actually, I spent a large portion of that time flat on my back, staring at the ceiling. Bored. Out. Of. My. Mind. Counting. Cobwebs. Was it fb withdrawl? No, it was a sprained back. And it's not even like I was enjoying myself when I sprained it. The medical conclusion: I was overly tired. TIRED? Are you freakin' kidding me? Couldn't it have at least involved a pole or a swing or an act of contortion? Nope. Years down the road, B.O.B. and I can't look back and laugh about the time I sprained my back.

So, here it is, 45 days later. I'm back on fb. I'm upright even though my back is still recovering. My friends on fb have remarked on my strength and willpower. I wish! Obviously, I can't even make it without an afternoon nap before my body rebels.

What I do have is priceless: an odd quietness that has enveloped Chez Funk. My male naysayers didn't think I could do it. Now I don't have to spend the next 44 YEARS hearing about how I failed my Lenten promise of 2011.

Ahhh ... peacefulness while I enjoy my Peanut Butter Cup Smoothie and count the new cobwebs.

Bartender, I'll Have a Prilosec OTC Chaser

You know you're old when ...

You liken the experience of having whiskey on the rocks for the first time to a bout of acid reflux.

Just waiting for the AARP application to arrive in the mail.

I'm Doomed AND Lactose Intolerant

While in the midst of a dream this morning, everyone in said dream started chanting, "You're doomed. You're doomed. You're doomed ... " Well, if that doesn't make someone who already suffers self-esteem issues bolt awake, I don't know what will. These chanters were actually my friends, adding insult to injury.

Except it was my electronic alarm clock. The tone, "Beeeep beep Beeeep beep," has the same cadence as "you're doomed."

Great. Couple that with a bird who starts taunting me promptly at 6:45 am every morning by sing-songing "CHHHEEESSSEE burger CHHHEEESSSEE burger." (As B.O.B. as my witness, that is exactly what the bird's tweet sounds like!) So I'm reminded every morning upon waking that I'm lactose intolerant. Where, oh where, is a little feathered friend who can tweet, "VEGGIE cheese burger!"?

Electronics are sending me subliminal messages. The avian world is bullying me for being unable to digest diary products. Ha. I can strike back! I can change the alarm tone. And the bird? "Here Kitty, Kitty, Kitty, I have a job for you, my little furry assassin."

Ordering Hooked on Phonics, Adult Version

I sprained my back. That means a few weeks of recovery for me and a few weeks of catering to the family's basic needs for B.O.B. and led, in part, to the following exchange at Chez Funk this evening.

Me: Where did you get this toilet paper?
B.O.B.: I thought it was a nice gesture on my part to get it.
Me: My question was 'where did you get it?' (Having a sprained back has made me bit more short-tempered than usual).
B.O.B: It's Cottonelle, a name you can trust.
Me: It's not Cottonelle, it's Softielle.
B.O.B.: Oh.
Me: Do you know what Softielle means in French? SANDPAPER!

On the bright side, I won't need to schedule a Brazilian wax thanks to Softielle.