Why I love my job.

The following is an excerpt from and actual conversation I recently had with a client.

M(Me): (Picking up cell phone) Hello?
C(Client): Is Pedro there?
M: What can I do for you **Bob?
C: I need 4.79% for 72 months.
M: No
C: Why not?
M: I can’t give you 4.79% for extended term we talked about this.
C: Come on…PLEASE?
M: What’s the last thing I said to you yesterday before I walked out of your office?
C: And if you try and touch my ass one more time I’m going to punch you in the stomach?
M: (Pause) Ok, what’s the second to the last thing I said to you yesterday before I walked out of your office?
C: No 4.79% for extended term?
M: That’s right. (Click)

And that’s why I love my job.

** Names have been changed to protect the oh so valiant and spotless integrity of my clients.

It must be the paint fumes...

I painted my kitchen this weekend, which corroborates a strange kitchen-painting trend happening here in Minneapolis. It literally took me two whole days, with priming taking place Friday Night and the actual painting on Saturday. You see, the problem with my kitchen is it has so many corners, nooks, crannies, and wall space that it seemed like it took me FOREVER! Plus, the previous color was red so the primer was an absolutely necessity because normally, I skip that step at all costs.

So, I’m blaming the paint fumes for anything strange and unexplainable that happens to me for the next week or so. Which brings me to the conversation I had with my 72 year old father yesterday at breakfast.

My mom and dad came to visit for the day and took me out to breakfast. While we were sitting there drinking our tea, my dad looks at me and asks, “How many channels do you get on your cable?”
Not knowing where any of this was going I simply said, “I don’t know, does that include the music channels? Because if it does I get like 900 or so.”
“Do you get channel 555?” And he didn’t say it like that, you know five hundred fifty five…he said it like five-five-five.
“Um, I don’t know…well, you know we have different cable company’s so my channel five-five-five is probably not the same as yours.”
“There’s porno on my five five five. I tried to record it the other day to show your mother but I couldn’t figure out how to set the VCR."

Silence (Crickets chirping crickets chirping crickets chirping)

I looked over at my mom who looked at me like she already knew this little tidbit of unnecessary information.

“So, what you’re telling me, is you tried to tape porn to show mom? Like you couldn’t take her over the TV and show it to her? She was most probably sitting over in the other room anyway.”

That’s where as far as I’m concerned the conversation ended, despite his attempt to try and get me to explain that he most probably has to set channel five- five- five in the VCR to be able to record anything, I wasn’t going there.

Frightening Fluorescent Lightbulb Update

This morning after my Step class I walked into the locker room only to see a woman, mid 50's standing completely naked under the frightening fluorescent lightbulbs with a towel wrapped around her head violently shoving her kleenex covered finger in and out of her nose. I wanted to rip out my eyeballs and flush them down the toilet...it was the most horrible thing I've ever seen. Ever.

I will never be the same.

To Whom it May Concern (Alternate Title Serpenite Schmerpentine)

To the douchebag at the gym who decided to replace the older, less frightening fluorescent bulbs above the women's vanity with 11 thousand watt ones can kiss my ass. I don't pay $60 a month to stare at every sun spot, freckle and potential wrinkle under lights that could most probably double as high powered grow lamps. You suck.

To the guy who rang up my groceries last night at Kowalski's. The four gold rings that you wear on each consecutive finger will not help get you laid. Infact, they are most probably preventing you from scoring any sort of chick worth scoring, especially the one with the horseshoe on it...and rhinestonesones. You'd have a better chance if you removed them, and buried them deep under ground and then washed your hands for three weeks in order to remove the green ring that has formed under each and every knuckle.
And NO, winking at me and telling me to have a wonderful night will not get you anywhere. Gimme my apples and shut the hell up.

To they guy at the automotive repair shop. I don't know what a serpentine belt is, and frankly I don't fucking care. Trying to explain it to me is just a waste of time and will most probably cause you more headaches in the end. If I were you I would just change my oil, replace the belt and tell me that if you didn't do it my car would spontaneously combust never to return to this earth again. I would probably believe you. So just lie, lie like you've never lied before, and then when I leave, you can make fun of me and how you totally screwed me out of $200 to put on a 75 cent piece of rubber that costs $15 at Napa. Jerk.

That's all.

Jenni

My First (Witnessed) Blonde Moment of 2006. *And a Special Bonus Blonde Moment of 2005

I haven't written anything in a long time. Mainly because I am waiting for something interesting and blog worthy to happen to me, and nothing has. Well, maybe I've had things happen, but I'm just too lazy to write about any of them. Yeah, that's probably it.

Anyway, I don't know what it is about January. It seems that I have the largest brian farts during this month. It could be the cold weather, the fact that my brian is most probably frozen a good portion of the month...or it could be the lack of sunshine, like the way your plants get all droopy and shit when they haven't seen the sun in awhile. Much like my brain...all droopy and shit.

So, Saturday night Danika had game night and I was with the group playing Taboo, of which I have to say I'm pretty good. And when Angel said to me, "Wow, you're pretty good at this!" I proudly responded, "Yeah, I should be on the $1,000 Pyramid or something." To which Danika promptly corrected "That's $10,000 Pyramid, Jen." Right. $10,000 Pyramid.

Ah, the life of a blonde...

Anyway, this has inspired me to repost Extreme Blonde Moment, a chronicle of my St. Paul Winter Carnival Medalion Hunt Misadventure. So, if you haven't read it yet, I suggest that you do. Not only so you can laugh...hysterically, but also so you can understand the trials and tribulations of an everyday blonde. Enjoy!

Jenni, What Class Is Made Of.

I stole this from Sandra. It's the "Classic Dames Test." So, if you would like to find out which dame you're most like just go Here!

Myrna Loy
You scored 11% grit, 28% wit, 33% flair, and 40% class!
You are class itself, the calm, confident "perfect woman." Men turn and look at you admiringly as you walk down the street, and even your rivals have a grudging respect for you. You always know the right thing to say, do and, of course, wear. You can take charge of a situation when things get out of hand, and you're a great help to your partner even if they don't immediately see or know it. You are one classy dame. Your screen partners include William Powell and Cary Grant, you little simmerpot, you.

I'm BACK and My Mayor Can Beat Up Your Mayor!

Despite rumors that I met my imminent fate with an unusually large icicle, I'M BACK!

Seriously though, If you've been wondering where I've been lately I was absent because of an untimely death in the family...my cable modem...which consequently made my wireless network haywire and led to a two-week-long computer catastrophe. But all is well with the world, and it's fixed. Which brings me to my next subject...how great it is to live in Minneapolis...

Not only are we the "Smartest", and "Techiest" city...but our own mayor R.T. Rybak was recently voted by Mens Fitness as the most fit mayor.

Minneapolis as a city, consequently ranked #13 out of 25 of the "Fittest" cities in the Nation, and interesting enough, our neighbor metropolis Chicago ranked #5 among the "Fattest"...oink oink...and Houston of course ranked "#1 in the less than flattering category.



In other news, I'm getting my new sofa today...isn't it KICK ASS?

That's it on the showroom floor. I'm ecstatic. To be perfectly honest with you, I was really trying to shy away from the whole "black leather" bit for fear I'd be categorized in some lame tasteless male bachelor group...you know the group that centers around puffy black leather furniture and black laquer...yeah, that group. But I was hooked the minute I set eyes on this sofa, I KNEW it was the one for me. It's distinguished button tufted back and arms...makes is look very vintage and old school which is definately my style. So, in preperation fo the arrivial, I've been painting and decor changing, now just to replace the chair I'm sitting in, some new curtains, and I'll be set...A new year, some new furniture...yay!

What are you doing that's "new" in the New Year?