Phone Assault

Apparently the fellow that used to have my current cell phone number wasn’t much for paying bills. Which means that I, almost a full year later, am still receiving calls for him from collections agencies. Usually I just don’t answer because they show up on caller ID as the ominous “Unknown”, but today I decided to nip it in the bud. I answered, listened to the recorded response, “this is XYZ collections agency, call us back at 866… your reference number is x”, then hung up and immediately picked up my desk phone to make the call. After a few rings, I was issued the standard greeting by (c’mon, we all know your name isn’t Kyle) Kyle who *I think* asked me what I needed.

“Well, Kyle, I need for you to please stop calling my cell phone, because the gentleman you are trying to reach is no longer at this number”.
“Okay, we won’t call again. Have a nice day.”
“Um, wait, don’t you need my number, or a reference number, or something?!” (Mind you, I’m on the land line at my office, so it’s not like he had any way of knowing who was calling).
“Oh, yes.”
“Okay, which one?”
“Yes”
“Yeeeah. Here’s the reference number: JLT474”
(I’ll spare you the multiple exchanges spent trying to communicate that little code).
“Okay, we won’t call you again”.
“Can you tell me who it is that you were trying to reach?”
“John”.
“Riiiight. Okay, thanks Kyle”
Click.

I have a sneaking suspicion this is not the last I’ll be hearing from XYZ collections.

Thanks John (or, as the electric company that also calls for you often refers to you, Jose). I hope you’re enjoying your financial irresponsibility while I fend off your creditors.

Little Pink Terrorists

This morning, after hitting the snooze button for (not kidding) an hour, I rolled out of bed to get ready for work. First things first, I went to brush my teeth. I was still in wake-up mode, so when my (what's a nice way to say: ) spit was tar black, I thought I was hallucinating. Groggy and confused, I opened my mouth to take a peek. Lo and behold, my tongue was solid black. It was crazy. Have you ever seen the movie Mr. Deeds? Remember Adam Sandler's sicko foot? Yeah, it looked like that. It didn't hurt or feel weird, but it was, indubitably, black. I scrubbed ferociously with my toothbrush, gagging and spitting the blackness out of my mouth…

"What could have caused this?
Is it something I ate?
Is my tongue going to fall off?
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?"

After several minutes and only moderate avail, I walked back into the bedroom to consult the leader of our house. Upon my prodding, Levi opened his eyes, to find me, tongue out, and pointing, "ies lac, i ongue is lac!". A look of concern clouded his face, followed shortly thereafter with a look of enlightenment… (a-ha!)*points to sheet*. Okay, in his defense, he was mostly asleep, and we do have black sheets that have dyed our walls a lovely shade of gray where they meet the edge of the bed, but really, you think the sheets did this? You're right – I was probably dreaming that the bed was a huge ice cream cone and just licked away at my pillow until my tongue turned black. Go back to sleep.

Already running late, I decided to just head to work. The entirety of the half hour drive was spent with me intermittently sticking my tongue out at the rearview mirror in sheer befuddlement. I was able to rid myself of most of the blackness, but it was still noticeably there, a taunting shade of murky gray. I got to the office and went straight for my computer. Before I could even get to my lifeline (Google), I was met by a Yahoo! headline screaming, "Plague a growing threat". (AHHHH. I have the plague!!!).

Before I started getting my affairs in order and calling my family, I moved on to my Google search, where I discovered this: In addition to being a record label, black tongue is also the result of a reaction of the separation of bismuth from salicylate, forming bismuth trisulfide (Bi2S3) in combination with the sulfur found in saliva.

Huh?

Turns out, the Pepto chewables I took last night for a tummy ache were the culprits. Those little pink terrorists. At least it's not the plague.

Every once and a while, neglecting your civic duties pays off.

First and foremost, let me clarify...
I believe in voting. I vote, you should vote, let's all vote, viva lAmerica.

I'm just not currently registered to vote (in my specific county of residence). I have an excuse, though. We just moved to Nashville a few months ago. I don't have a driver's license yet, which is when I usually fill out my registration form, blah, blah, blah.

But, to the point... turns out, the week before Christmas, thieves broke into one of the election commission offices here in Nashville and stole multiple computers. Here's a little tidbit from an article published on 12/29:

"As we looked deeper … we now know that full Social Security numbers were included on the voter files contained on one or more of the stolen computers," county Election Administrator Ray Barrett said.

Bummer.

I'm hearing about it now because several of my coworkers are getting the "Hi, your identity has been compromised" letter.

I suppose you could say, just this once, that it's a good thing I'm not (YET) registered to vote.

The Joust.

Guess who won?