Chookah

Big shock, a gripe about the gas company

Questar and their Thermwise program can SUCK IT!

Questar, our lovely gas company, has a rebate program for homeowners looking to upgrade/replace specific appliances in their house.  Catch?  You have to upgrade to a ridiculous level of energy efficient appliances.

Case in point.  My water heater sucks.  It crackles and pops and won't fill the tub with even mildly lukewarm water.  I tried flushing the sucker twice to get all the sediment and grime out.  Apparently it's "self cleaning" whatever the hell that meant 10 years ago and the flushing was a resounding failure.

Insert joy of home ownership: Time to replace major household appliance! 

I look at instant water heaters and think, "Wow, these are really great!  I'll save money on gas, the thing won't cake with hard water deposits, it will be great for resale value *and* Questar will give me this snazzy $300 rebate!"  Problem: Instant water heater is about $1200, I have to find a heating contractor who knows what the hell they are (the first two on Questar's list had no clue, the third put me on hold for 10 minutes trying to find someone who did), then I have to pay for someone to install it and I will have to replace the vent in my house with a double-insulated one otherwise my home owner's insurance will kill me after I burn the house to the ground because apparently they run a little lot hot.

Next option.

I look at regular water heaters, get the dimensions of the existing water heater, cause it's gonna be a tight fit, and begin my search.

The qualifications for the now reduced rebate (only $50 bones for a standard water heater) are:
-Efficiency rating of 0.62 or higher
-Minimum 40 gallons
-75,000btu/hr or less

No problem.  I start browsing online.  Home Depot has nothing that will qualify, I'm so not shocked at this point.  Lowes has this lovely Option A  and Option B both of which will work!  Huzzah, huzzah!

Problem.  I didn't notice the products won't be in stock until the middle of December.  I go to the store, cash in hand and they don't have a SINGLE product that would qualify for the rebate.

BOOOO Questar!! You tease me with visions of energy efficiency, lowered gas bills all while setting impossible standards that cannot be met by simple retail therapy or "skilled" labor.

The new 50 gallon gas hog is going in tomorrow.  If my gas bills go up exponentially it's either the new water heater, a newfound love of laundry (ha!) or some wretch at the gas company trolling the internet for customers to punish.

Single-handedly, the most dorked up...

children's book ever written.

Ready?

It's "Fox in Socks" by Dr. Seuss.

Guaranteed to make you pull your hair out while your child looks at you with a blank stare bigger than when you try to explain online social networking to your elderly grandmother.

Here's a sample: "Here's an easy game to play.  Here's an easy thing to say [right.  Get ready cause here we go]... New socks. Two socks. [Not too bad thus far, kind of reminiscent of One Fish, Two Fish] Whose socks? Sue's socks. Who sews whose socks? [huh?] Sue sews Sue's socks. Who sees who sew whose new socks, sir?  You see Sue sew Sue's new socks, sir." [WTF just happened here?  I got lost.]

I've read many a book in my day, some which people universally find confusing.  Books like Virginia Woolf's "To the Lighthouse" which deals heavily in stream of consciousness writing and very ambiguous transitioning from one character to the other.  Never in my life have I read a book that twisted my tongue so badly.

I think this one might make it to the yard sale pile.  I can't afford the Prozac needed to cope with the frustration and the disappointment of the 4-year old blank stare.

How not to impress me

When submitting a resume for a position, don't list your Mormon two-year Mission as work experience.  I have no doubt that you busted your ass and developed some very valuable life skills which will help you in both your professional and personal life. 

But this two-year spiritual stint is not "work". 

You will not get brownie points from me by listing it as work experience.  I will, in fact, look at your resume with more scrutiny and ask you to prove the work experience that you do have. Your interview will increase in intensity considerably.

If you insist on listing your Mission on your resume, place it in a more appropriate area: Volunteer work.

Sick

I'm not sure which is the preferable scenario:

1. Sebastian's sick
2. Sebastian's sick and I'm sick too
3. I'm sick

I guess it's pretty easy to spot the less than ideal scenario which is what we've got at our house.

Cough, boogers, fevers, aches, insomnia... yeah, we're living in a Hot Zone of fun fun fun!

Fun facts I discovered this weekend.

• There are only two different kinds of cough medicine for kids still left on the market.  Type A: grape-flavored glycerin water. Type B: only obtainable at the pharmacy counter (so don't get your hopes up that you'll be able to provide your child any kind of relief at midnight) after filling out a sworn affidavit for the DEA promising that you aren't going to cook the crap down and make meth-laced suckers with it, have your mugshot taken and fingerprints added to the government database of "Parents who don't want their kids to suffocate on their own body fluids while they sleep".
• You have to be 18 to buy Mucinex (what the hell is that about?  17 year-olds freebasing a mucus reduction product?)
• If you don't have health insurance or don't have the health insurance card for your child who is *supposedly* insured by his father, the full cost of a trip to the Insta-care is $120/per person.  The wait this weekend was about 3 hours - no reservations. Any dealing with the insurance agency is your responsibility.  No card, no copay.
• The size of a nose is not directly proportional to the amount of boogers that come out of it - especially at 2 am when I'm sound asleep.  Apparently there is a hidden bucket of booger reserves stashed somewhere in a 45lb body.
• Costco is a god send for purchasing vast quantities of kleenex, Advil and Purell.
• Orange Kool-aid and Tang are contained in nearly identical packaging.  The contents however are vastly different.
• A fever of 103 in a small child produces rather amusing results during sleep.  I observed Sebastian carrying out a full-volume conversation with someone about apple juice and watching SpongeBob.

Why Dell can bite me.

I have a problem with my "Integrated Bluetooth Module" in my new PC, it won't connect with my headset so I can make calls using Skype.  I'm only mildly incompetent when it comes to computers so I try a few troubleshooting ideas and search some boards for ideas, none of which work.

Enter the debacle:

• Think, "hmm, let's try re-installing the driver or looking for an update."
• I have to search all over the box to find the minuscule service tag number before I can access the support site. 
• Can't find the driver I'm looking for.
• Initiate a chat session and have to re-enter the service tag number (of course, I experience significant eye strain trying to read it again).
• I chat with "Barjinder_158463" in India and explain my dilemma.
• He asks *again* what my problem is and I spend another 4 minutes explaining the problem.
• He tells me that I don't have an "Integrated Bluetooth Module" installed on my machine and sends a link to the system specifications.
• I point out to him that, yes, I do have an "Integrated Bluetooth Module" installed in my machine.
• "Please show me which line says that your computer has bluetooth?" - OMG are you kidding?  Did he just ask me to read for him?
• I copy and paste the line from the system specifications "assembly...flash storage device..., universal serial bus..., reader..., BLUETOOTH..., half height..." 
• Barjinder_158463 says "if you need to connect to any device through it we need the drivers."
• No shit.  Why do you think I've spent this much time trying to find them??
• He continues, "Sunny, I would like to use the Dell Connect tool to take control of your system.  You will see everything I do as I do it.  I will have full control during this mode.  Would that be fine with you?"
• My response, "Yeah, dude, given that you couldn't even determine if I had bluetooth to begin with, I don't think that's going to happen. You've shown a level of incompetence [can't read] which makes me nervous.  You are NOT taking full control of my computer. Just give me the link to the driver."
• I wait 5 minutes and get the link to the driver.
• The driver doesn't solve the problem.
• 32 minutes and 25 seconds down the drain in this ridiculous chat session with a man who can't read.

Dell, I like my machine.  After I threw another 2GB of after-market RAM in it, it rocks, in fact. But because of your incompetent customer support I say this with all the love I can muster:

BITE ME.

 

Big, Big Trouble

There are three levels of discipline in the house:

1. The Talk (punishment enough, right?  Who likes a lecture?)
2. Time Out
3. Big, Big Trouble

Big, Big Trouble is reserved for the most serious offenses: a combination of biting, hitting, kicking, screaming/yelling, spitting, throwing things, hitting doors or walls, you get the idea.

Sebastian is in Big, Big Trouble tonight.  He bit and pushed his friend (his friend made sure to tell me exactly what happened), tried to bite his teacher, had a complete histrionic meltdown in the car and was screaming about something (I tuned him out and wouldn't respond so I don't even remember what it was about), picked up a toy from the back of the car and hit me with it while I was driving (again, I didn't respond though I was seething inside) and when that didn't get a response, he did it again.

When we got home I didn't say a word.  I left everything in the car, took him by the arm and marched him into his room, told him briefly in that low, flat, I'm-so-pissed-I'm-beyond-yelling voice that he was in Big, Big Trouble for biting, yelling and hitting and closed the door behind me. *Thunk*! *Thunk*! He picked up toys and launched them at the closed door.

I took a lap around the kitchen and living room and then moved Sebastian to his bathroom - if he's in Big, Big Trouble he shouldn't have access to fun things to destroy. After about 10 minutes he calmly asked me if he could come out and promised he would be good.  No problem.  Everyone needs to hit the "reset" button every now and then.

Enter battle royale #2 . The known consequences for Big, Big Trouble.  No TV, no friends, no play-dough, no Transformers, no stories before bed or snuggling... just companionship and books.  Yeeeah... that didn't go over so well.  The battle ranged from eating dinner, washing hands, washing face, brushing teeth, putting on PJ's and (shock!) going to bed.

I'm lucky that nights like this are few and far between because tonight, duct tape seems like a viable parenting tool.

Cabities

Brushing teeth in our house hasn't been a struggle and for that I'm thankful.  Sebastian understands that he needs to brush his teeth so he doesn't get cavities. ("Sebastian, why do we brush our teeth?" He looks, pauses and says, "So we don't get cabities!" "That's right.  Do you know what cavities are?" "Cabities are owies on teeth.")

Last December Sebastian and I went to the dentist.  He for his first visit, me for a cleaning.  During this visit I was informed that I had two cavities and on the way out the door I informed Sebastian that I had two cavities and had to come back later to have them fixed.  He looked at me and immediately raised his hand and pointed back at the dentist's office.  No words were needed.

It's now, oh... October 16th and I went back for a cleaning today.  I love my dentist, he's young, funny and plays movies (with captions on) from screens installed in the ceiling so you don't have to continually listen to the hygienist scrape and complain that you need to floss more.  He did his post-scrape and poke inspection and said in a very matter-of-fact way, "It looks like this cavity *here* and *here* haven't healed. Humm.."  Nice way of telling me that I'm a complete slacker and in denial about the acquisition of my FIRST cavities. "I'm capable of fixing small or large cavities."  All right already, can you fix them now?

I had them filled today.

I, Sunny, now accept the fact that I am not impervious to dental decay. 

An Ode to Sprinkers

As shamelessly adapted from Shel Silverstein's "Channels"

 

Zone 1, is no fun

Zone 2, is a freaking zoo

Zone 3, one of them is kinda hard to see

Zone 4, I'm closing the door (out of sight, out of mind)

Zone 5, I dance the jive!

Zone 6, I'm gonna nix

Grab the hose

I Now Have a Phobia

A phobia of needles. (Warning: if you have a needle or blood phobia don't read any further)

I've had a lot of blood drawn for various reasons.  Small needles, big butterfly needles, standard run of the mill needles, small finger prick, one vial of blood, four vials of blood, etc. 

Each time I rate the lab tech on a scale from 1-10, with 1 being the worst and 10 the best.

I had blood drawn this week.  Usually it's not a big deal, sit down, tourniquet, prick, cotton ball and medical tape, out the door in less than 5 minutes.  If the tech is especially adept it's less than 2 minutes, I don't feel a thing except a little pressure from her fingers and the tape/cotton ball contraption is super easy to pull off. Whoo hoo!

This week was not to be one of those ideal experiences.

20 minutes waiting in the lab, another 10 minutes in the chair while the tech got her shit together and labeled the vials, had to re-label the vials because she grabbed the wrong ones, on and on...

She puts the tourniquet on and I assume the position, elbow on the counter, slightly straight arm, clenched fist.  She came at me with the needle and I mentally pulled out the rating scale  She stuck me and missed, stuck me again and missed, stuck me a third time and missed. 

(It's at this point in the story that I need to remind you  that a) I'm a red head b) I'm Scandahoovian, and c) because of "a" and "b" my veins are really hard to miss. They're like interstates on a map, they're so obvious.)

Just as she's about to stick me a fourth time, I give her the look of death, the look that says, "lady if you fuck this up one more time not only am I going to swear at you but I'm going to grab the needle and do it myself!"  She sticks me one more time, misses and keeps fishing around in my arm for the vein!!! "The vein keeps rolling around," she explains.

"FUUUCCCKK!" Comes out of my mouth in a less than amused and quiet tone while my back arches and my body tenses. "Do you need help?!" I ask.  She shoots me a dirty look and FINALLY hits the vein.  What a bitch.

There's a new rating on my rockin lab tech scale, 0. As in, "have a nice day you sadistic bitch".

FSA PITA

I know that I've been bitching and moaning lately.  Deal with it. :-)

Today's gripe: IHC and Wells Fargo FSA program.

I paid two medical bills using my Wells Fargo FSA credit card back in FEBRUARY.  After a few months, I received a letter demanding documentation for the payment - no, I didn't buy gardening stuff, deck materials or scrapbooking stuff (not that I scrapbook...).  I faxed the invoices to them.  I got another letter two weeks later.  I faxed the invoices to them again.  I called to make sure said faxes were received.

My FSA account is now frozen.  Apparently, I didn't fax them the invoices.  This is bullshit.

So, I spend an hour on the phone with IHC billing.  No dice, they don't have the invoices.  I call IHC physicians billing.  They have one of the invoices on file but they have to get APPROVAL to release my own invoice to me.  I even verified my blood type to ensure I was who I claimed to be.

Now I have to track down the OTHER invoice.  This is going to be a neat trick.  Apparently the service dates were back in 2005, I know this is totally ridiculous, and they're going to have to contact their archive service which could take up to three weeks and then it will have to go through the approval process too.

IHC and Wells Fargo, kiss my ass.  You suck.