Comments (2)

By shannon, August 24, 2010 9:35 am

Don’t say you weren’t warned . . .

So, I’m totally not trying to be an asshole, but WHAT THE FUCK?

At 8:54am, I received two emails.  The first, from my boss, was to announce that our  staff meeting on 9/13 is actually a secret baby shower for a guy on our team. I have no problem with this sort of event.  I really don’t.  I’ll gladly contribute whatever money is asked.  I like this person, and I’m very happy for him and his wife.  But, I will not attend this shower.  I can’t sit through another event where people are celebrating something that I’ve worked so hard for and still don’t have.  I’ve done my time at baby showers.  I can’t and won’t subject myself to that pain anymore.

The 2^nd email was from someone I don’t know.  It was sent to EVERYONE, and it announced the birth of someone-else-I-don’t-know’s child.  Why do people feel the need to send these messages to everyone?  I realize that this is a very happy event, but where is the compassion for those who are struggling with infertility?  Does anyone actually think about other people before broadcasting this sort of news to the entire contract?

And now I sit here at work crying.  I HATE crying at work.  Not only do I look like a complete idiot, but it totally fucks up my makeup, too.  Dammit!

Seriously. What the fuck?

kthanksbye

Comments (5)

By shannon, August 12, 2010 9:02 am

Here’s the thing with me . . . I’m a really nice person until you’re rude or mean to me.  Tuck that little piece of knowledge away for a few minutes.

For 15+ years, I’ve been living in the Baltimore/DC area.  I first moved down to DC from my home State of Rhode Island (hi Kerri!).  I couldn’t wait to leave RI, having decided early on that if you didn’t get out young, you never got out. 

Sure, I went to college in Maine, but after, I was back in RI.  A good friend who had just graduated from Georgetown (in DC) suggested that we move there.  So we did.

Now, here it is, all these years later, and I’m still here.  I’ve moved from DC to Northern Virginia to Baltimore to my current home in the burbs. And I hate it. 

I used to love this area. But, in recent years, the overall attitude of this part of the country has gone downhill.  The people are rude, the traffic is insane, and the weather is sucking my will to live.  I need to move, and I need to do it soon!

I can’t remember the last time I went an entire 24 hours without encountering a rude person.  Sometimes, when I walk into a store, I get attitude just for breathing.  Other times, I’m ignored altogether.  I’ve written about my experiences with the staff at doctor’s offices and labs, and they’re just the tip of the iceburg. 

The worst part is the effect that these attitudes have on me.  I don’t like the person I’m turning into.  I’m not a rude person, but at the first hint of rudeness from anyone, I’m on the defensive.  And believe me, I can out-bitch the biggest bitches out there!  I’ve tried to make an effort to just ignore this behavior and not let it affect me.  I really have.  But, when these people impact my life, either by denying me a service that I need or by making a simple process difficult, I find it hard to ignore.

I KNOW that it’s not like this everywhere.  I have traveled to the Midwest for Brian’s races, and the people are kind and considerate.  You can even see it in the way they drive.  The use of turn signals is something everyone just does.  Here, people can’t be bothered with such a task.

Brian and I are lucky.  We have jobs that are in-demand just about everywhere.  We have some loose ends to tie up in the next few years, and we’re hoping for a more welcoming real-estate market in which to sell our house.  We’d like to be debt free (except for the mortgage).  We’d like to have a decent savings.

But if these things don’t happen, I’m still moving.  I would rather be poor and living amongst kind and considerate people than rich and living around assholes. 

I’m a good person, but if I don’t get out soon, I could easily go the other way.  And that scares me.

Comments (1)

By shannon, July 29, 2010 2:21 pm

As you guys know, this blog is about everything.  Sure, I write about diabetes a lot, but sometimes, I mix it up with posts about traffic, family, infertility struggles, food, etc.

Today, it’s an open letter to Citi.

Dear Citi,

Remember last year when you decided to arbitrarily close our Shell Mastercard account?  Remember how you did it with no notice?  Remember how I found out?  Yeah, getting that “declined” at the pump was not a fun experience.

Remember how I contacted an acquaintance at the Associated Press who wrote a story about you guys?  Remember how that story was picked up by hundreds of news outlets, and I ended up doing interviews about my experience?

Well, I thought you guys had learned your lesson.  I thought those billions in tax-payer bailouts would have made you recognize that you are not invulnerable.  I thought you would have been done with making rash decisions and burning bridges.  I was wrong.

Imagine my surprise when I read your latest letter, which in a nutshell, said you were closing our Home Depot Consumer Credit account (hey, at least you told us first).  Can you picture my face as I read your bullshit statement about “items in your credit report?”  Can you?  Did you even review the credit report, or did you just close the accounts of everyone who used (and loved) the “no interest for 12 months” deal?   Is it because we always paid it off before you could get your interest payments?

My guess is that just like with the Shell Mastercard, you closed the accounts of those who ALWAYS paid their bills on time.  We are not moneymakers for you, so you’re tossing us aside like yesterday’s trash.

Are you reading this Citi?  What about you, Shell Oil and Home Depot?  Because although you are not at the root of this, you will be affected.  I won’t get gas from you, Shell, anymore.  I don’t care if you’re the cheapest gas around.  I’d rather fill up at BP, which is saying a lot.  And Home Depot?  One word:  Lowes.

As for you, Citi, there will come a day when you want my business.  Once all of this bailout stuff is a distant memory, you’ll try to tempt me with a pre-approved credit offer.  You’ll attempt to dazzle me with low interest rates.  And when you do, I will attach a copy of this blog post to the blank credit application.

Until then, here’s a great big LADA-dee-da Fuck You!

Sincerely,

Shannon

P.S. How did that SEC fine imposed today feel?  You’re so shady; you deserve everything you get!

Comments (12)

By shannon, June 3, 2010 2:09 pm

Dear Avis,

I was a good customer.  Sure, I booked through Priceline.com, but in these tough economic times, a girl’s gotta do … well, you know.

You see, this was not a pleasure trip.  I was in Florida visiting my very ill sister.  We only rented the car because we didn’t want to trouble anyone with picking us up or dropping us off at the airport.  It wasn’t like I got the car for free, either.  I paid $250 for just a few days’ use.

And I didn’t even complain when, despite my confirmed rental for a mid-size car, you gave me a Ford Focus.  Honestly, it was a cool little car.  But let’s face it, it is a compact car, at best.  Nope, I didn’t complain at all.

Just as we were instructed, we filled the gas tank up before returning the Focus.  We stopped at the gas station at 4:30ish in the morning, bleary-eyed and sad.  At the airport, we left the car in the designated parking space and dropped the keys in the “after hours” box. 

I thought our business had concluded.  I was wrong.

When I saw that you charged my credit card $46.55, I assumed it was a mistake.  I called your customer service line, and the nice lady told me that I was charged for fuel.  I told her that the car was returned with a full tank, but my word means nothing to you.  I was told that I would have to fax a receipt to PROVE that I purchased gas that morning.  But as luck would (not) have it, we didn’t get a receipt that morning.  Sure, I have my bank statement, but it doesn’t show the city or the time of the gas purchase, just that I made a gas purchase on 6/1/2010.

When I called your customer service number again, I got a different lady, and she was not-so-nice.  She said that without proof, you can’t reverse the charge.  Now, I understand this … I really do.  But what pisses me off is that I do not have the time to play PI and hunt down credit card information for you because (a) some incompetent asshole made a mistake when her or she entered the information into the computer, or (b) you are trying to scam people.

So, the not-so-nice lady told me that if I didn’t like it, “dispute it with your credit card.”  When I told her that I would, and that the entire situation was “unacceptable,”  she essentially said too bad.  I told her that I would NEVER rent from you again, and that I would make sure EVERYONE I know is aware of your shady business practices.  With attitude, she thanked me for renting with Avis.

Oh, and I did dispute that charge with Bank of America.  I won’t be paying that $46.55.  And if even one of my readers thinks twice before renting from Avis, I know I’ll have fulfilled my responsibility.

In the meantime, I’d like to extend you a great, big ladadeeda.com FUCK YOU, Avis.  May you rot in hell.

Sincerely,

Shannon

Comments (4)

By shannon, May 27, 2010 9:36 am

Dear American Idol,

I’ve got to be honest; I’ve never liked you.  I saw part of an episode a few years ago that left me wondering what all the hype was about. Then, you started showing all of the “bad” auditions, which I’m not convinced aren’t staged.  I mean, seriously?  Are we supposed to believe that these people actually think they’re good?

I’ve shunned you for years because I think there’s more to music than a singer’s vocal range.  I can’t stand it when a so-called singer butchers a song in an effort to demonstrate his or her singing abilities.  The Star Spangled Banner is not an R&B song.  And, since this is the type of singer you most often attract, you really held no appeal for me.

Then, I heard about Crystal Bowersox.  See, like Crystal, I’m a type 1 diabetic.  I know how difficult it is to live (and succeed) with this disease, and I was curious about her.  My expectations were low; I admit it. But then I saw a few youtube clips of her performances, and I knew that she had something … that elusive originality.  She is a true talent.  And she’s even a single mom, too!

So, last week, when I heard that Crystal was one of the final two, I decided to watch the final episodes.  I watched her perform on Tuesday night, and I was floored.  This girl is the real deal, with talent oozing from every pore.  The other guy?  Lee? Yeah, he’s not bad.  But, he is not even in the same league as Crystal.

Last night, as I was packing for my trip to Florida, I left the TV on in the background.  I absently listened to the performances.

<side note> WTF was with changing the lyrics to Alanis Morissette’s You Outta Know?  Seriously, you really had to change it to “go down with you to the theater?” Really?  </side note>

I wasn’t even paying attention until the end.  And when you finally let pretty boy announce the winner, I was appalled.  Then I remembered that this is why I don’t watch you in the first place.  Your show is about who’s the cutest or the most popular (hmm, kinda like high school), not about who is the most talented.

So, I’ll not waste another minute on your absurdity.  You had a golden opportunity to redeem yourself in my eyes, and you failed miserably.

Sincerely,

Shannon

Comments (4)

By shannon, April 12, 2010 8:29 am

Today, I’m waiting.  I’m waiting for a check containing the proceeds of a stock sale.  I’m waiting for this check so that I can file our tax returns for 2009.  And I’m pissed off about it.

I know that NO ONE likes to pay taxes.  Normally, it’s something I do with little thought – it’s my civic duty, after all.  Well, it’s also the law, and I’m nothing if not law-abiding. 

So, why am I so pissed off about it this year?  I think it’s because this is the first year when I *expected* a refund, but instead owed thousands.  It was like a big slap in the face when I saw that huge figure pop up on TurboTax.  How could be possibly owe that much more than we’d already paid all year long? 

I double triple checked the return and searched in vain for any other deductions.  But, since we’re DINKs (Dual Income, No Kids), there are not many deductions that we can take.  Neither of us is in school, and our student loans are long gone.

Sure, we get to deduct our mortgage interest, but that’s just about it.  Now, if we’d been able to file separately, with Bri itemizing and me taking the standard deduction, we’d have been in much better shape.  But, we can’t do that.  The marriage penalty is alive and well.

Then, there are all those medical expenses.  As a Type 1 diabetic on an insulin pump and CGM, you’d think I’d have been able to surpass that magic 7.5%, right?  Nope, not even close.  Why does it have to be tax deductable AFTER 7.5%?  Why can’t it be a dollar-for-dollar deduction?  Oh, that’s right; we’ve got to pay for all of the freeloaders somehow.

So, I’m waiting.  And pissed off that we had to sell perfectly good stock to pay Uncle Sam his pound of flesh.  And I’m even more pissed off that people who didn’t work received thousands in “refunds.”  Maybe, next year, I should just take a few grand into the city and hand it over to a person “hanging” at home on a Tuesday morning.  

/rant.

Comments (0)

By shannon, April 2, 2010 11:18 am

**I apologize in advance to anyone offended by this, but it is my opinion, and I’m entitled to it**

Before I met Brian, I never really gave much thought to driving.  Coming from the Biggest Little State in the Union, a long drive was the 30-minute trip to the beach.  Driving was something you did to get from point A to point B.

When I lived in DC, I didn’t even have a car.  Public transportation was reliable, safe, and fast.  I walked a lot, too, which was nice.  But with each job, I moved farther and farther away from the city until I ended up in my now suburban environment.

Each day, I commute from my home to Baltimore City.  It about 20 miles each way, and, on a good day, I can do it in 20 minutes.  Most days are not good days.

For me, driving is not a spectator sport.  I LIKE to drive.  Moreover, I LIKE to drive fast.  You don’t buy a six-speed, manual transmission, performance automobile if you don’t like to drive.  You buy a Camry.

As I drove to work this morning, I thought about all of the road-related things that drive me bonkers!  Here are the biggies:

1.  Lane discipline (or lack thereof) – Why do people feel the need to use the left lane as a travel lane?  Do they not understand that this creates traffic even if they’re exceeding the speed limit?  Few things irks me more than when the traffic resembles a rolling wall.  All lanes are not meant to be traveling at the same speed.  If you’re in the left lane and driving the same speed or slower than the person to your right, move the fuck over.  PERIOD.

2.  Doing-Everything-But-Driving – The moving automobile is not the place to:

1. Scold your kids
2. Do your makeup
3. Eat
4. Shave
5. Read
6. Text
7. Search for stuff
8. Talk on the phone (unless on hands-free, and only if you’re capable of walking and chewing gum at the same time.  85% of drivers are not capable of this)

3.  Courtesy – When merging, turning, changing lanes, or any other action that requires another driver to alter his or her speed (i.e., slowing down and/or stopping), acknowledge the driver’s kind act with a simple wave.  This is a practice that, when I was a child, was the norm.  Now, it seems as if everyone has forgotten it.  Don’t take kindness for granted because I DON’T HAVE TO LET YOU IN.

4.  Courtesy, Part Deux – Let people in.  If I’m merging onto the highway, don’t ride the bumper of the person in front of you so that I can’t merge in.  Seriously, it’s not going to slow you down that much to let me merge in.  Hell, I’ll even wave to you.

5.  Courtesy, Over-Doing-It – Do not disrupt currently-flowing traffic to let someone (who does not have the right of way) go.  This includes those waiting at stop signs and traffic lights (turning right on red).  All you’re doing is causing traffic to back up at that place.  Traffic patterns, including stop signs and red lights, are not arbitrary.  There is a reason that engineers make buckets of money designing this stuff.  It works – don’t try to help it.

6.  Entitlement – I realize that some people think they’re more important than everyone else.  We see this every day with those who cut in line at the deli counter or don’t slow down at crosswalks (even though it’s the law).  But the fact is you are no more important than any other driver on the road.  The only people who can claim priority over other drivers are police, ambulance, and fire engine drivers.  So, don’t think that you have more right to that lane or that parking space than I do.

7.  Ego – Leave it at home.  Do any of you know someone who takes it as a personal attack when someone passes them?  I do.  I see these people every day.  They’re the same ones who, after merging onto a six-lane highway, head right over to the left lane and set up camp.  For these people, it’s an affront on their ego to be passed, and it’s a show of weakness to yield to another driver.  If I’m attempting to pass you, don’t speed up so that I can’t, then slow down when I’m stuck behind you again.  WTF is that all about?  If I want to go faster than you do, what difference should it make?  Now, maybe if you weren’t driving a pathetic excuse for a car …

8.  Choice of Vehicle –There are three vehicles in particular that I’ve learned are common offenders of #s 1-6: The Toyota Camry, the Minivan (any make, any model), and the Honda CRV.

1. Now, I’ve made no secret of my dislike of the Camry, although I feel that most Toyotas fall into the same bucket.  But, for some reason, the Camry is the worst.  As with everything, there are exceptions to this rule (my stepmom special orders her Camrys with manual transmissions, which is sort of badass), but I’m writing in general terms.
2. Before I discovered the “joy” of Camrys, I was dealing with the phenomenon that is the minivan.  Why is it that when operating a minivan, the driver loses all ability to focus on driving?  No, really, why?
3. I have a nickname for the CRV:  the Camry of the SUV world.  Nuff said.
4. Honorable mention – The Jaguar.

When I see any one of these vehicles, usually in the left lane when I’m trying to pass, I expect the worst.  Every now and again, I’m pleasantly surprised, but for the most part, they don’t let my expectations down.  Now, if you drive one of these cars, ask yourself if you’re an offender and be honest.

9.  Attitude – This goes hand-in-hand with #6, but it deserves its own category.  If you want to pass me, move over to the left lane and do so (because I’m not in that lane unless *I’m* passing someone).  Don’t ride my ass with the intention of “motivating” me to go faster.  Chances are, I’m speeding already, so if you want to go even faster, pass me.  And when you finally do pass me, don’t slam on your breaks to “teach me a lesson.”

Also in this category is when you find me on your ass because you’re clogging up the passing lane.  Don’t “jack up” on your brakes so that I have to slam on mine.  Don’t play these stupid games; just get out of the way.  I’m not trying to insult you; I just want to get where I’m going.  It’s when you play these games, or feel that it is your responsibility to stop me from speeding, that people get hurt.  Don’t do unsafe things that could kill someone.

<side note> There is scenario that I encounter every day on my drive home.  The northbound side of a road merges down to one lane AFTER a stop light.  So, people who are turning right at that light don’t merge over into the left lane at all, and some people wait to merge until after they have gone through the light.  Sometimes, the people waiting in the left lane get pissed off that people drive up the right lane and merge in at the last minute.  So, to curb this behavior and “teach them a lesson,” they straddle both lanes so that people can’t get around them.  This drives me crazy, especially because after that point, there are no passing zones on this road.  If you get stuck behind a slow person, you’re SOL.  So, I like to stay in the right lane to guage the traffic and see who the slow drivers are.  More often than not, I manage to avoid them and travel at speed.  But, every now and again, I get stuck behind a slow driver.  It sucks. </sidenote>

10.  And last, but not least, Turn Signals – they put them in your car for a reason.  Use them.  I don’t care if there’s no one around you.  It will help you get in the habit of using them more when they are needed.  I use a turn signal for every single turn I make.  It doesn’t hurt anyone to use them, and it’s not a sign of weakness.  You’re less likely to have a crash if people actually know what you’re doing.

Seriously, people, brush up on your driver’s education.  Take this test, and if you don’t get all of the answers correct, research why.  Driving is big responsibility with a lot of rules.  Know them.

Comments (9)

By shannon, March 4, 2010 11:50 am

The scene:  A lab

The players:  Me, Phlebotomist (herein referred to as “Moron”), and a Supervisor

The Time:  9:14am

As part of my recent fertility consultation, I was instructed to have a blood test to determine if I carried the gene for Cystic Fibrosis.  Since I am due for my regular A1c draw, I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone (I hate that expression – who actually kills a bird with a stone?).

I walked into the lab, signed in, and sat down.  I always dread having blood drawn because I know that the inevitable battle will begin. 

<digression> Since my very first blood draw (that I can remember), I’d pass out.  Faint.  Hit-the-deck.  A few years ago, I had a very nice phlebotomist tell me that I have extremely small veins and that when having my blood drawn, I should always request a butterfly.  From that moment on, I never passed out again (as long as a butterfly is used).  I know some of you will think that this is a psychological problem, but I can prove that it’s not. 

Once, I requested a butterfly, and the phlebotomist agreed to use it.  Since I never watch the actual blood draw, I assumed that the prick I felt was the agreed-upon butterfly.  After a few seconds, I started to get that feeling.  The one where you see little black dots, begin sweating, and feeling very, very tired.  The next thing I knew, I was waking up on the floor.  She helped me back into the chair.  I apologized for fainting and said how strange it was because I NEVER faint when a butterfly is used.  She shrugged and turned away.

That’s when I saw it.  She didn’t use a butterfly.  When I asked her about it, she claimed to have “forgotten” that I requested one.  Bitch. </digression>

Anyway, back to today.

After 15 minutes, my name was finally called.  I handed moron the lab slips and my insurance card.  She instructed me to have a seat in Room 2 across the hall.  I did.  She came into the room and began entering all of the required information into her computer.  I waited.  Finally, she spoke:

Moron:  Oh, I see it was your birthday.  Happy belated birthday.

Me:  Thanks! (thinking this draw is going to be cake!  She’s actually nice)

Me:  As you can see, I’ve got two different lab slips from two different doctors.  Is it possible to send the results of my A1c to both doctors?

Moron:  (grabbing a clipboard with a release form) Sure.  You just have to sign this release, and we can send it to anyone.

Me:  Great, thanks.  I also have one more request.  When you draw my blood, can you please use a butterfly?  Otherwise, I’ll pass out.

Moron:  (looking at me like *I’m* a moron) I’ll need to look at your arm first because we don’t use butterflies on everyone.  What’s the big deal, anyway?  A needle is a needle.

Me:  Look, I’m not afraid of needles.  I’m a type 1 diabetic, so I’m pretty used to needles.  My issue is that my veins are really small, and with the bigger needle, the blood comes out too fast and causes my blood pressure to drop until I pass out.  Every time I’ve had my blood drawn here, they’ve used a butterfly.

Moron:  Well, I’ll have to look at your arms first. (indicating that she wasn’t going to use a butterfly unless hell froze over first)

Me: (really pissed off) Fine, but don’t be surprised when I pass out.

Moron spent the next 35 minutes trying to get the paperwork straightened out.  I repeated my original instructions that Dr. T. also gets a copy of my A1c.  Moron set up the paperwork to give Dr. S. the results of the CF screen.  Hence, the moniker, moron.

Finally, she wraps the rubber band around my arm and tells me to make a fist.  She pokes my veins to find her target.  Knowing what’s coming, I look away.  I felt the needle prick, and, at first, I felt ok.  I thought that maybe she’d listened to me and used a butterfly.  But, I started to feel that all-too-familiar sensation.  The last thing I heard was her clicking off the first vial and grabbing another. 

I came to on the floor.  Moron had called for backup.  They helped me back into the chair, gave me some juice, and waited.  After 10 minutes, Moron came back into the room with Supervisor. 

Supervisor: (taking one look at my arm) Her veins are tiny.  You should have used a butterfly on her.

Me:  I asked for a butterfly, but she refused.

Supervisor:  I’ll take it from here.  Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to get both vials before you passed out, so I’m going to have to prick you again.

Me:  You can prick me all day as long as you use a butterfly.  I wasn’t being a baby – this is just how it is. 

Supervisor: (after the blood draw was done) You’re all set.  You can wait here for a few minutes if you need to. 

Me:  (having already spent over an hour in the lab) I’m fine.  I really need to get to work.  I would appreciate it if you’d have a talk with moron about listening to patients.  This entire scenario could have been avoided if she’d just listened to me.

Supervisor:  I intend to.  We don’t like it when you faint any more than you do.

Me:  Thanks.

Comments (10)

By shannon, February 5, 2010 9:13 am

Oh, Oprah, you had an amazing opportunity to do a show on diabetes. It could have been well-researched, with experts in endocrinology providing accurate information and dispelling the many myths that are floating around. You could have had CDEs and representatives of ALL types of diabetes.

Instead, you chose to have (your fellow cash cow) buddy, Dr. Oz, confront a room full of overweight, Type 2 diabetics, telling them that their lifestyle is to blame. Where was the discussion of genetics?Oh, that’s right. Dr. Oz said Type 1 was genetic. He also said a person is born with Type 1. And that the amount of insulin a person takes is an indication of how bad their diabetes is. All untrue.

But, what really pissed me off was the blatant exploitation of Laureen. You were doing a show about Type 2 diabetes (because they’re the majority, after all), but to really scare the shit out of everyone, you send Dr. Oz to visit Laureen in the hospital. You show graphic images of the absolute horror that diabetes has done to her body. She obliges by breaking down and sobbing accordingly. Then, as an afterthought, you make the distinction that Laureen is a Type 1. Why was she your example? Couldn’t you find a Type 2 to exploit?

7.4 million people watch your show every day. Many of them take your word as gospel. If you’d taken just a few hours  and actually researched the different types (yes, there are more than two) of diabetes (or actually read the email I sent you weeks BEFORE the show), you would have presented a show that was truly groundbreaking. Instead, it was a joke.

There are many in the diabetes community who have spent years trying to raise awareness of Type 1 diabetes, its cause, its treatment, and the fact that it is not preventable or curable. You set us back years.

So, thanks Oprah.  Your shoddy research and irresponsible reporting did more harm than good.