5.4.2014
I held on to a Starbucks® Coffee gift certificate for 10 years or so. Notice I said, "gift certificate," and not "gift card." That should tell you that it was some time ago indeed that I got the gift certificate. I put the date of reception at 1995 or so. I got it from my producer for pulling an entire week of triple-shifts (it sucked!). My producer was very cool, so while the triple was no fun, it wasn't that big of a deal and her $10 coffee gift was appreciated. Even though it was Starbucks® - ha.
If ya did the math, you probably put my redemption of the gift certificate at around 2005 or so. The gal at the register had to check with her manager in the back who looked the artifact over and said, OK.
I'm rehashing this riveting story here to set up a story of another relic that I dug up but was not successful at redeeming: An AT&T "phone card." I had a ONE HUNDRED DOLLAR AT&T "PHONE CARD."
I found it a while back while purging one of the various archives I have laying about the place. It was nestled up against my Chicago Public Library library card, several business cards and my Blockbuster™video card. I chucked all of them but the phone card. I wondered how much money was left on it and, Hell, if it still worked.
I called the customer service number on the back of the card and got an error message. No such number. I said, the Hell with it and followed the numbered instructions: First call the service. That failed too. There was no such service. I called AT&T and the goon who answered did not even know what I was talking about. I figured as much - AT&T has merged, changed and overhauled itself so many times that today's AT&T isn't the same company as AT&T five years ago, let alone 20 years ago.
So I pitched the card into the recycle bin, chalking up $100 in long distance calls to a couple ounces of plastic.
Say ... are long distance calls called "long distance calls" anymore?
Tonight - The Homestead (naturally...)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Thursday, May 22, 2014
She goes to Fino's
5.3.2014
I went with a couple pals to an LA Kings-friendly bar last night to watch the Blackhawks basically quit playing 38 minutes into the hour-long game and ultimately get their asses handed to them and lose 6-2 to the Kings. Most people left the bar happy. I did not.
But that's not what this post is about; this post is about FREEDOM! Check it:
As the bar patrons assembled and began talking and drinking and such, a pal I was meeting arrived. We began to gab and catch up. More people piled in. My pal said, "Hey, that's the wife of a former, beloved, Hockey Hall of Fame Kings player." The wife looked like a Pro athlete's wife: Blonde, skinny, well-dressed, blingy, etc.
Several people were fawning over her and, Hell, she seemed nice enough. After a while, she visited my friend and introduced me. She said, "ugh, a Blackhawks fan. Oh well," and I said, "there's no accounting for taste, is there?" Whatever. I'm not into celebrities and I don't think she counts as one, so, whatever.
Later in the game, before it went sideways for the Blackhawks, I visited the table of some pals. One non-pal sitting among them - an older guy who looked like the former president of Western Images (but not as tall) - was present when the player's wife talked to me. He said, "You should feel honored."
"Excuse me" I said.
"Kitty let you stay," he said.
"Ex-cuse me" I said.
"You should feel honored, Kitty said you could stay and watch the game. She didn't kick you out."
"Kitty? Is that the player's wife's name?"
"Yes," he said.
"Does she own the bar?" I said.
"No."
"Are we in Russia? Are we in China?"
"What?" he said.
"Are we free? Is this America? Are we free to go to a fucking Kings bar and watch a hockey game if we want to without fearing some ex-player's wife with no authority could kick us out of an establishment she doesn't own? Or are we in China, where she probably could?" I said.
"What?" he said.
"I don't feel honored, dude. This place is a dump." I said.
Tonight - Sea Star Club (by request - and newly re-opened)
Heads-up: No Giants game tonight, but 280 South is closed at King, 6th and Mariposa Streets starting at 9pm. There may be some lingering traffic in the area, so avoid those main arteries if you can.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I went with a couple pals to an LA Kings-friendly bar last night to watch the Blackhawks basically quit playing 38 minutes into the hour-long game and ultimately get their asses handed to them and lose 6-2 to the Kings. Most people left the bar happy. I did not.
But that's not what this post is about; this post is about FREEDOM! Check it:
As the bar patrons assembled and began talking and drinking and such, a pal I was meeting arrived. We began to gab and catch up. More people piled in. My pal said, "Hey, that's the wife of a former, beloved, Hockey Hall of Fame Kings player." The wife looked like a Pro athlete's wife: Blonde, skinny, well-dressed, blingy, etc.
Several people were fawning over her and, Hell, she seemed nice enough. After a while, she visited my friend and introduced me. She said, "ugh, a Blackhawks fan. Oh well," and I said, "there's no accounting for taste, is there?" Whatever. I'm not into celebrities and I don't think she counts as one, so, whatever.
Later in the game, before it went sideways for the Blackhawks, I visited the table of some pals. One non-pal sitting among them - an older guy who looked like the former president of Western Images (but not as tall) - was present when the player's wife talked to me. He said, "You should feel honored."
"Excuse me" I said.
"Kitty let you stay," he said.
"Ex-cuse me" I said.
"You should feel honored, Kitty said you could stay and watch the game. She didn't kick you out."
"Kitty? Is that the player's wife's name?"
"Yes," he said.
"Does she own the bar?" I said.
"No."
"Are we in Russia? Are we in China?"
"What?" he said.
"Are we free? Is this America? Are we free to go to a fucking Kings bar and watch a hockey game if we want to without fearing some ex-player's wife with no authority could kick us out of an establishment she doesn't own? Or are we in China, where she probably could?" I said.
"What?" he said.
"I don't feel honored, dude. This place is a dump." I said.
Tonight - Sea Star Club (by request - and newly re-opened)
Heads-up: No Giants game tonight, but 280 South is closed at King, 6th and Mariposa Streets starting at 9pm. There may be some lingering traffic in the area, so avoid those main arteries if you can.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, May 15, 2014
European Composers for $100, Alex.
5.3.2014
For this year's annual Cactus League Spring Training trip, I had to get Ez out of school a total of three days: Thursday, Friday and Monday. This is quite a bit of time to be out of school, but since it's Kindergarten, I figured he wouldn't miss too much, and he's a darn-good reader, writer and arithmetic-er already, so no biggy. I checked in with the office, asked for and filled out the excused absence form, submitted it and began to assemble my road-trip arsenal of snacks (see a previous post for details.)
The trip was a blast, as usual. However, a strange thing happened while on the road to PHX: Ez's school district, the LAUSD, robo-called my phone. I ignored this one as I've learned to ignore them all. It called again several hours later. Then Friday morning and afternoon, guess what? Robo-calls from the LAUSD. I ignored these too, but glancing at my email, I had a message from the LAUSD from each of the last two days. The messages said, "you have a son or daughter at FRANZ SCHUBERT ELEMENTARY who was not present for roll call on BLA BLA BLA DAY, etc., etc." This prompted me to listen to the voicemail from the robot. It too ratted out Ez for not being in class. So much for the excused absence form, eh?
Monday was no different: Two robo-calls and an email. LAUS-suck.
After dropping off Ez in class Tuesday, I went to the office and asked, "excuse me, what the fuck?" They said, "oh, no, you're all good. That's just the District."
"Doesn't my excused absence form get submitted up to the district level?"
"Yes," the office stooge said, "It does, but the system still does its robo-calling and emailing."
"You've got to be kidding. No one can fix that?" I said.
"It seems not. I'm sorry I didn't give you a heads-up."
"No prob." I said.
I told this story the other day at my "new job" and co-workers much younger than me said the schools they were in had various forms of electronic roll-call when they were in school. Not me, I said, we had paper. And we could hack the system. I told of one kid in my Bio II class. He waited until our doddering, old teacher turned his back on him and he darted out the always-open front door of the classroom. Everyone but the teacher knew he was going to do it and we barely contained ourselves as his backpack shoulder strap got closer and closer to his shoulder as he readied his flight. I crack up now just thinking about it.
oh ... I just remembered that the kid mentioned above got FUCKING EXPELLED two days before graduation ... for excessive unexcused absences.
Tonight - Mr. Bing's.
A North Beach / Chinatown favorite!
I'm doin' the Monkey Boy.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
For this year's annual Cactus League Spring Training trip, I had to get Ez out of school a total of three days: Thursday, Friday and Monday. This is quite a bit of time to be out of school, but since it's Kindergarten, I figured he wouldn't miss too much, and he's a darn-good reader, writer and arithmetic-er already, so no biggy. I checked in with the office, asked for and filled out the excused absence form, submitted it and began to assemble my road-trip arsenal of snacks (see a previous post for details.)
The trip was a blast, as usual. However, a strange thing happened while on the road to PHX: Ez's school district, the LAUSD, robo-called my phone. I ignored this one as I've learned to ignore them all. It called again several hours later. Then Friday morning and afternoon, guess what? Robo-calls from the LAUSD. I ignored these too, but glancing at my email, I had a message from the LAUSD from each of the last two days. The messages said, "you have a son or daughter at FRANZ SCHUBERT ELEMENTARY who was not present for roll call on BLA BLA BLA DAY, etc., etc." This prompted me to listen to the voicemail from the robot. It too ratted out Ez for not being in class. So much for the excused absence form, eh?
Monday was no different: Two robo-calls and an email. LAUS-suck.
After dropping off Ez in class Tuesday, I went to the office and asked, "excuse me, what the fuck?" They said, "oh, no, you're all good. That's just the District."
"Doesn't my excused absence form get submitted up to the district level?"
"Yes," the office stooge said, "It does, but the system still does its robo-calling and emailing."
"You've got to be kidding. No one can fix that?" I said.
"It seems not. I'm sorry I didn't give you a heads-up."
"No prob." I said.
I told this story the other day at my "new job" and co-workers much younger than me said the schools they were in had various forms of electronic roll-call when they were in school. Not me, I said, we had paper. And we could hack the system. I told of one kid in my Bio II class. He waited until our doddering, old teacher turned his back on him and he darted out the always-open front door of the classroom. Everyone but the teacher knew he was going to do it and we barely contained ourselves as his backpack shoulder strap got closer and closer to his shoulder as he readied his flight. I crack up now just thinking about it.
oh ... I just remembered that the kid mentioned above got FUCKING EXPELLED two days before graduation ... for excessive unexcused absences.
Tonight - Mr. Bing's.
A North Beach / Chinatown favorite!
I'm doin' the Monkey Boy.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, May 08, 2014
The Little Sneak! (REDUX - aka in the days before Dyson™)
5.2.2014
If it were not for the deluxe lady I got my life would be sadly devoid of thrills these days, and I know it. I can easily imagine my day-in, day-out if she weren't around to yell at me and it would be MONOTONY: Get up, go to work, come home, water lawn, have drinks, go to bed. Repeat M-F, throw in a few Cubs losses and that's it. yep!
I have discovered a small, almost insignificant treat that kinda rules, and I'm gonna have to remember it next time she's outta town.
A couple weeks back I told ya a couple stories about the Electric-aire restroom hand dryers. The stories aside, I got a love-hate relationship with them when I'm forced to use one. I hate that they take so goddamn long to dry one's hands, but I love the magic moment when the warm air so perfectly dries the last, minute amounts of water and leaves truly dry hands - not towelled, not 'moist' - dry. That's the only benefit of the hour it takes to use one them things.
So ... the thing that I've discovered that kinda rules is this: Lately, after washing my hands in the restroom at work, I paper towel-off the water, chuck the soggy nap into the trash - AND FINISH WITH THE ELECTRIC-AIRE. It's like cutting to the front of the beer line. It's like getting something for nothing. It's like having yr cake and eating it too.
Tonight - Latin American Club
Come celebrate Ocho de Mayo! New TNSC traditio ! (until next year)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
If it were not for the deluxe lady I got my life would be sadly devoid of thrills these days, and I know it. I can easily imagine my day-in, day-out if she weren't around to yell at me and it would be MONOTONY: Get up, go to work, come home, water lawn, have drinks, go to bed. Repeat M-F, throw in a few Cubs losses and that's it. yep!
I have discovered a small, almost insignificant treat that kinda rules, and I'm gonna have to remember it next time she's outta town.
A couple weeks back I told ya a couple stories about the Electric-aire restroom hand dryers. The stories aside, I got a love-hate relationship with them when I'm forced to use one. I hate that they take so goddamn long to dry one's hands, but I love the magic moment when the warm air so perfectly dries the last, minute amounts of water and leaves truly dry hands - not towelled, not 'moist' - dry. That's the only benefit of the hour it takes to use one them things.
So ... the thing that I've discovered that kinda rules is this: Lately, after washing my hands in the restroom at work, I paper towel-off the water, chuck the soggy nap into the trash - AND FINISH WITH THE ELECTRIC-AIRE. It's like cutting to the front of the beer line. It's like getting something for nothing. It's like having yr cake and eating it too.
Tonight - Latin American Club
Come celebrate Ocho de Mayo! New TNSC traditio ! (until next year)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
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