No Whining Allowed

Someone has gotten a hold of our credit card number. For the second time.

The first time was when Honey and The Boy were in Alaska, fishing. Someone called and asked about some websites we had created. I told them that it wasn’t us. They rambled on and on until I finally hung up on them. I didn’t even know what they were talking about. I never gave it a second thought.

The next month, a charge showed up on our credit card. For our newly created websites.

Honey called and straightened them out.

A week ago Friday, my credit card was declined at Randazzo’s. Our friendly city-hood fruit and vegetable market. Every now and again my card has a swipe problem. It can be  demagnetized. That just means it won’t swipe, and they have to manually enter the numbers. I know, how ’80’s. A clerk once told me that it was common in heavily used cards.

After swiping and being declined a second time , I used another card and left. I then proceeded to Hobby Lobby and decided to try again. I told the clerk that I was doing an experiment. I failed the experiment. I again used the second card.

When I got home, I casually mentioned it to Honey. I was on my way out the door to dinner with the SmallGroup women that night.

The Boy called while I was en route to tell me that Honey was still on the phone with the credit card company, and we had been thieved.

Evidently, these lovely folk had been charging up a storm all across the United States. From Vermont to Washington state to Florida. Buying all sorts of things. Motorcycle parts, telescopes, renting rooms.

The credit card company flagged our account and stopped the joyride, but not before they charged over $5000. They have turned it over to their fraud department and already closed our account and sent us new cards.

Honey thinks that the number was stolen when he bought and then cancelled some things on the internet at Christmas time. He said they seemed shady.

My tantrum is for the people who do this sort of thing.

Why do you do this? Why do you have no conscience? Didn’t your parents ever teach you that stealing is wrong? Why would you think that someone else should finance your life? You ought to be ashamed of yourselves. If I was your mother, I would box your ears.

Two words. Loud Talkers.

Really, I am not trying to eavesdrop. But I can’t help but  hear you talking so loudly on your cell phone, while I am trying to enjoy the company of family or friends.

I don’t want to hear your lame “then he said, then she said ” conversation. And I most certainly do not want to hear about your wasted weekend. Dude, seriously.

Sometimes, when I can’t see your blue tooth thingy right away, you scare me in the grocery store. You just start talking, obnoxiously loud, right next to me when I’m reaching for my crackers. Or else I just think you are crazy. Hands flailing all over the place, laughing, all by yourself. Heaping helping of crazy.

I don’t want to learn  that much about anyone while I am waiting for my children at the orthodontist.

Sometimes I think people talk loud because they think they are so wonderful, or funny, or important. And for some reason, they think we want to secretly overhear them. We don’t.

Thank you for your time.

Head on over to FringeGirl’s for more tantruming. I think that is a made up word.

Today was my lucky day. I got the empty toilet paper roll in the bathroom, and not enough butter in the dish. A two-fer!

Head on over to the domestic fringe to hear about the other tantrums in progress.

Hey Guys, welcome to another week of Tantrum Tuesday!

I  have been squirreling away ideas in a folder on this topic. I believe that I may have mentioned that I am forgetful. The folder has been helpful.

My tantrum this week is about something that has happened to me before, but happened again a month or so ago.

I had taken The Boy up to school to enroll him in some night classes. To help him achieve his goal of, you know, graduating.

There was only one woman working there, and I could tell right away that she was frazzled. And really, who wouldn’t be? She was giving some tests out in the hall, answering phones, registering us, and there were two more registrations waiting patiently behind us.

There was a snag with our paperwork. Evidently the guidance counselor from day school  had chosen a class  that was not possible for him to take. For some reason that I am still not clear on, but that’s ok, I talked to her the next day and she worked something out and it’s all good.

Back to The Frazzler. This snag was not a big deal for us. Lots of things  in our life do not go smoothly, so therefore I don’t assume it will go smoothly, and therefore I do not get all spazzed out when things are not smooth. We are a Patient Folk.

Well, The Boy, Mousey and I are Patient Folk. The Ab-Cat can be. Honey takes blood pressure medication.

During all this business, the phone rings. The first thing that The Frazzler tells the person on the line is “I have a line, I’ m going to have to take your number and call you back”. Which was a perfectly reasonable thing to say, right?  But, the person kept talking, and asking her questions. She just kept repeating her line that she would call them back, but was answering their questions!  I could tell she was uncomfortable, but she kept answering, and that made them ask more! This went on for quite  some time.

I still am not sure if I was more annoyed at The Frazzler or the rude caller. She probably should have just hung up on them and took care of the people who actually took the time to come in and take care of their business. But the caller is certainly not without blame either.

 Since when do you and your questions have  the right to waste the time of everyone else ? The Frazzler could not have been more clear that she was busy, but obviously, what you needed to know was so much more important than what everyone else needed. Your self importance is staggering. Should she have hung up on you to make her point?

She was finally able to get off the phone, after the caller had ALL of their questions answered. She was finally able to find someone to help her with the rest of the applicants and we eventually left. It occurred to me, that the only person who was not inconvenienced  was the rude caller. They got what they wanted, when they wanted it. Rudy Rudolph Rude-ster.

O.K. All done.

Head on over to FringeGirl’s to hear more Tantrums in progress!

I totally forgot about Tantrum Tuesday over at FringeGirl’s place!

Since I am unprepared, I will simply share what is in my heart.

Whoever invented the roundabout?   SHOULD DIE!!!!!!!

And that is all I have to say about that.

FringeGirl over at the domestic fringe is hosting a little weekly vent session. She is calling it Tantrum Tuesday. It’s good to know that we can all link up with her if we need to release a little pressure.

I was telling Mrs. Schmenkman about this during our Skype session yesterday. She asked why was she always complaining about something when we Skyped? I so helpfully told her she should save it for today. And then to make her feel better, I complained about something too. Cause I am such a caring friend and all.

I’m sorry to say that I cannot share with you all what I shared with her. On the grounds that it may incriminate me.  So, I will share the other thing that we complained about. Going to the doctors.

We don’t like condescending doctors. We only go when we have to.

They are not usually very helpful. If THEY find a problem, they are all over it like cats on tuna.   But if I  go in with a problem, they act like I watch too much ER or House. I resent that.

Once I went in with a bladder infection. I had to endure a lesson on the proper  way to wipe. HELLO, I was like 27 years old!!  I think I know that!  Am I in here for chronic UTI’s ? Save the lecture! Give me the prescription, and shut up!

Another time I went to the Dr. after our car accident. I was having horrible trouble with my neck and back. And why wouldn’t I have been? Head on car crash, hit by woman going 90 mph?  I thought perhaps some physical therapy might be in order. The Dr. just listened to me, nodding her head. And then she asked me if I wanted to go to a counselor. To talk about my feelings.  Well, I would like some physical therapy to help me feel better, thank you. She finally did let me go. When she handed me the script, she actually said that she felt it was like “spitting in a rainstorm”. What does that mean?  I DID feel better after going. Silly me.

I have been to the doctor probably 4 times in the last 10 years. Excluding the Horse Doctor for those pleasant yearly stirrup meetings and the festival known as BoobSmash.

Two of the visits were because I twice had a ridiculous bout of toe fungus that caused me an enormous amount of personal angst. TWO TIMES I lost my big toenails, just in time for sandal season! Do you KNOW how long it takes to regrow  big toenails???  Anyway, I had to go and beg to have a prescription for Lamisil. Because evidently it can cause liver problems or something.  Yeah, WHATever. Having a  nasty big toe fungal infection can bring a whole host of problems as well. Above and beyond ruining sandal season. It’s just not socially acceptable.  I still haven’t been able to use the pedicure gift card that my friend Fran gave me the Christmas BEFORE LAST!  Maybe by this summer.

The second two times I visited the doctor were because I evidently have blood in my urine. Which they discovered when I was taking the Lamisil.  It causes no problem for me, because I never saw it, but  it caused the Dr to get a little twitchy. The first time, I got all alarmed with her and went to meet the urologist and have many, many tests performed. He decided that I have kidney stones, which I knew, and they roll around in there and cause the problem.

It happened again last summer, or the summer before that. I don’t know, time means nothing to me. Only this time, I could see the blood. I didn’t do anything about it for a while, because, A. I figured it was the kidney stones again. And B. well, you know, all the tests.

I went back to the same urologist, who did not remember me. Told him I thought it was kidney stones.  Had all the same tests, plus a few more that had been invented since my last visit. He told me  I was right, it was kidney stones rolling around in there, and when I walk with Keelyody on the dirt roads where we prefer to walk, they just cause it. Not to worry. Thank you for your time.

Whenever I have gone in to the doctors feeling horribly sick, they never do anything. How do people get get all this medication? I always feel like I am begging.

SO, what I was complaining about to Schmenky was a nebulous feeling of something in the abdominal region. But I am not doing anything about it yet. I am observing it. Because it could be menopause, cancer, cramps or gas. Really, anything in the whole ANYTHING KINGDOM.

 I’m taking a wait and see stance. And if I Do decide to see the Dr. , and if she does try and give me the brush off, I am going to ask her to count how many times I have been there in the last however many years. And give me a break, and treat me like an intelligent adult.

All done. I feel better.