Sprint F-, Orbitz D

Orbitz
Earlier this year, I booked a flight to Dallas from Milwaukee. Cheap flight, about $180, I was stoked. Then all of a sudden I got a job out in California and had to change the departure to leave from LAX. NEVER do this. It'll cost you at least $100 PLUS the price of the new ticket...it credits the price of the last ticket towards the new one...but still, didn't help much.

When I made the second transaction, I had to switch which card to use. The first card I used was an account I had closed, which was a debit card for the bank account I had in WI. I switched the info to a credit card then made the purchase. The on-line receipt for the purchase STILL HAD THE OLD CARD INFO. So I freaked out and called Orbitz because that account was closed. The woman at Orbitz assured me that it DID in fact charge the purchase to the new card, the site just did not update for some reason. Whew, that was close.

That was May '07.

Fast forward to November '07.

I got a call from Orbitz asking me what my dispute with the purchase was and that I had been credited around $250. First of all, I was not credited any money, I sure as hell would've noticed an extra $250 fucking dollars. Second of all, I never disputed anything. The guy at least was super cool about everything and gave me a direct number to reach him specifically, unlike most sterile corporate customer service centers where you get a different foreigner every time.

After some research through old statements and getting my old bank to e-mail me statements, which were hard to find seeing as the account had been closed for 8 months, I found out that Orbitz tried to charge that account even though they said they wouldn't. Interesting...
The bank actually disputed the charge so they could get their money bank...I guess the money was automatically withdrawn from somewhere? Hell if I know...

I looked through the bank statements and my credit cards statements and SHIT, I could NOT find the second transaction charge. I guess I didn't pay it...lame. I sent all the statements to Orbitz to prove that I didn't get credited $250 HOPING that they wouldn't notice that I never made a payment on the second transaction. The customer service guy noticed this...damnit.
Still he was cool about it, UNTIL I got an e-mail saying that an additional $75 was being charged by American Airlines for the dispute. Wait a minute. I didn't dispute anything, assholes!

Well this morning I had my final conversation with Orbitz, I won't have to pay that $75 (I didn't fuck up, Orbitz did), but I did pay the $250. And the guy even apologized for the Packers losing. So that gives Orbitz a grade of about a D. They were cool about everything and easy to talk to, which probably was because I didn't avoid their calls or e-mails.

Still this should NEVER have been an issue.

Sprint
SPRINT FUCKING SUCKS. END OF STORY.

I text a lot. I work a lot in loud environments where I can't hear anything. Mostly loud damn music. When I got my last bill, I had $20 in text overages, so I changed my plan on-line (which generally is instantaneous) to the unlimited texting plan. I did this at the end of October/beginning of November.

Well I got my bill today. $49.80 in texting overages. I called Sprint IMMEDIATELY. Who answers the phone? FUCKING SOMEONE WHO SPEAKS ENGLISH AS A SECOND LANGUAGE. Strike one.

She asked me all the basic info to verify who I was. Then asked me for my six digit pin. Six digit pin, oh yeah I think I made one of those once...I can't remember. She put my hold. Awesome. Great. Best way to start a weekend, ever. Finally she came back and asked me my security question. I answered. Then she asked me to spell it out. It took me no less than 5 minutes to spell out my secret answer to her. She could NOT understand the letters I was saying, AT ALL. I usually try to be nice to customer service reps, but by then, I was fucking frustrated.

FINALLY we got to my issue at hand; the $138 phone bill. I explained the situation and she said that the unlimited plan was added to my account November 23rd. What? That's not when I added it. Not at all. She said there was nothing she could do about the charge. Strike two, YOU ARE A LIAR.

I INSISTED on talking to a supervisor; it took me 4 or 5 tries to get me to get her to go get a supervisor. She put me on hold. Fuck. Ten minutes later she came back and said the supervisor was on the other line. Her mistake - Giving me time to plan my next argument. I explained to her my work situation and why and when I made the changes and that changing the plan on-line is generally instantaneous. She said that I should have called to verify. I asked then why the hell is the on-line service offered if I'd have to call to verify the changes anyway? Her response? "Sometimes computers are not so perfect." What, like your comprehension of the english language? I laughed and literally said, "that's your answer? What I'm going to do now is go ahead and wait for the supervisor." On hold for the third time...

This hold only lasted for about 5 minutes. She came back and said the supervisor was still on with another customer. So I guess Sprint customer service only has one supervisor...hmmm. My persistance paid off (somewhat). She said she would APPLY for me to get a $20 credit on my next bill. She couldn't guarantee that it would even happen, but this is still STRIKE THREE. SEE, I said she was fucking lying about not being able to do anything. How can a customer service representative not provide customer service?

So I owe sprint $130 something and paid Orbitz $250. What a day. Rent is next. And you know what? I still can't buy booze, my CA license has yet to come in the mail...

FUCK CALIFORNIA

Things from my neighborhood.....

As some of you might know i currently live in Chicago. The Logan Square neighborhood specifically. Well, after being here for about 8 months i have seen several amazing things. Thus, i begin:

A girl got hit by a garbage truck right by my house since she was talking on a cell phone while riding a bike. she died. Who the hell talks on a cell phone while riding a bike. AND how hard is it to miss a garbage truck. its fucking huge! The funniest part is that the shrine that was set up in the median was also ran over a few days later and flattened.....funny.

The other day i also had the pleasure of seeing a truck with, count them......ten exhaust tips. Yes, folks, there were ten. not 4, not 6, but 10. Mind you this was on a rusty mid-80s pickup. if it had been a mid-90s camaro, then maybe.... The best part was that only six were actually hooked to exhaust pipes, the other four were WELDED TO THE BUMPER. I dont care how ghetto your ass is, you have to realize thats retarded.

Im not even going to mention how many virgin mary's ive seen on cars.......

I think the best was the transexican. This was the first month i lived in my apartment. i was coming home and i saw someone walking on the sidewalk in front of my building. picture this average sized person, brown shirt and skirt, pink fishnets, and a full beard.... i literally almost had an accident because i was gaping like a slack jawed yokel. I later mentioned what i saw to one of the other guys in my building and he informed me that i had indeed seen the transexican. i was straight before, but seeing that made me uber-straight. i went home and ate raw beef while hanging sheetrock just to compensate.

this is just some of the shit that happens to me in the city. fuck you.

Porch -

Limp Bizkit Ruined "Faith" For Me..

This has been pissing me off for more years than I care to remember: bands or musical artists that remake a song and call it there own. Or at least make no mention of the previous composers' name and hope that no one notices that their no talent ass couldn't put three power chords and some sappy lyrics together. How god damned difficult is it to write a fucking song that you have to steal someone else's? Here's a brief list of travesties perpetrated by no talent ass clowns:

1. The gold medal...Madonna redoing "American Pie" by Don McClean. This might be the biggest load of shit that ever came out of a woman's asshole...well at least until 2 girls one cup. American Pie may be the single greatest song in history and that whore unzipped her pants, squatted, and bent a fresh biscuit over the airwaves. And what's worse, when it came out, I kept hearing people talk about how great the new Madonna song was. Hey England, you can keep her. We'll gladly trade her for Posh Spice and her fine ass.

2. "I want you to want me," originally done by Cheap Trick and now...Lindsay Lohan. I refer you to the earlier comment..."how god damned difficult is it to write a song?" This is the simplest song since "mary had a little lamb." And once again, this talentless rusty tromboner comes along and steals it.

3. "Do ya think I'm sexy", originally done by Rod Stewart and redone by...wow...Paris Hilton. Don't even get me started on this waste of boobs.

4. "Satisfaction", originally done by the rolling stones, redone by the 2006 Hazzard County Fair hog queen, Britney Spears. Haven't you done enough Britney? I mean come on. Keith Richards heard this and fell out of a coconut tree, he was so distraught.

5. "Sabbath Bloody Sabbath," originally done...if I have to tell you, fuck off. This title track was redone by quite possibly one of the worst bands ever...The cardigans. Remember? Pixie type blonde from somewhere in Europe. Anyways, I saw them open up for The Bosstones. They had the fucking nerve to end their set with this song. Are you fucking serious? I've never seen so many dudes throw away beer. Bottles came from everywhere! Listen, how retarded are you that you'd play a cover from the sickest band ever in front of a crowd like this? Leave Sabbath alone unless you've done a line of blow off a hobo's ass.

Feel free to add some of your own

BY: J McGraw

Budgeting 101

So now that I'm an adult and I'm learning how to "budget" my money, grocery shopping is something that has become a big part of my life. I do not enjoy grocery shopping at all, actually I hate it! Let me tell you why! Last week I bought knock off cereal, yes the cheap shit. I bought the cheap shit because it was like 3 dollars cheaper then my favorite stuff. When your an adult you are supposed to realize these things (saving money and cutting corners is a good thing). Well I love cereal and every time I eat a bowl of Cookie Crisp as an adult, it takes me back to when I was little kid and cereal was like the best thing about getting up in the morning. So as I stand at the check out line and the lady scans my newly purchased box of "chocolate swirly cosmic o's" I suddenly feel a piece of my child hood being ripped away from me....Not only did the cereal taste like shit, it came in a smaller box, so I ended up letting the shit go stale and ended up throwing it in the trash. So in the end I didn't save a damn penny because I wasted the whole box. This seems like a cruel joke of "welcome to the real world"

Fuck New Flavors

I like Sun Chips...a lot. I am into the Cheddar ones. Well... leave it to Sun Chips to copy Doritos and come out with some limited time flavors to test the waters. God must have been out of the office on this one, cause I happened to fuckin' walk into a grocery store where they had some. I saw them Cinnamon flavored ones and thought to myself, "I bet it tastes just like Cinnamon Toast Crunch and I am into that!" So I bought a bag, went home, started watching some Family Guy and ate a good portion of the bag. They tasted ok, I had nothing against them, but an hour later I felt like I had a fucking badger in my lower intestines trying to claw it's way out. I felt like I had to shit and puke at the same time, all while contracting Ebola from a Saigon whore. It is now 24 hours later and I am just starting to feel better. But here is the fucking kicker, you know I am going to fucking eat the rest of that bag, I ain't throwing shit away! Or maybe I'll let them sit in my kitchen until Vince comes over drunk and wants a snack.

Speaking of chips, I puked in a Doritos bag this weekend, and comically the room fell silent and all you heard was a drunk fuck say " Awwww, I was going to eat those."

Ways NOT to get your song played on the radio

So our age group doesn't typically listen to the radio (we're talking 18-27 here). We are more of the I-Pod age sure, but every once in a while, when the batteries go dead and there is no charger in site, and there we are, with the FM dial to work with. So you find a station that's decent, not too many commercials, mildly entertaining jock, and music that may not be your normal cup of tea, but will do. Then suddenly you hear it..."Call 555-5555 to hear your song" What the hell, nothing to loose right? If you dial those fateful request line numbers, keep these things in mind:


1- IF you don't hear the song in the first ½ hour, you're probably not gonna hear it. It can be for many reasons, the jock doesn't have time, has that artist coming up anyway/just played that artist, they just forgot, or if the DJ decides that if they hear that song one more time, they are gonna rip the fucking speakers out the wall.


2 - IF you call again within the hour... The DJ will recognize your voice, especially if you ask for the same song....congratulations, you are now a douche bag, Don't expect your song to be played for the rest of the night...UNLESS one of the reasons listed in #1 is no longer the reason and the jock is in a good mood...but your still a douchebag.


3 – It's been over an hour...you're still listening, and you still haven't heard the song? IF you call again and request the same song (chances are with a negative tone), congratulations, you are a prick and have been blacklisted. Don't expect to hear your song for at least 2 days...despite any reason for not playing it to begin with, the DJ is officially annoyed with you, and you are shit out of luck.


4 – What the fuck? It's been like, 2 hours and I still haven't heard it? Buy the CD buddy. IF you dare call again, not only will you be blacklisted from whatever show you were listening to, but probably the one after it too..."Hey...just so you know, there's a prick who keeps calling...." And you are now officially an Asshole. Your friends, providing you have any, are also assholes for associating with you at this point


5 – Don't you dare do it...do not call to bitch and ask "Why haven't I heard my song?" While the main reason is probably found in #1, which is an answer you will probably get, but the fact is, you now have annoyed the fuck out of the DJ, and it will be at least a month before they will play the song, providing you don't call again. And what the hell are you still doing just sitting and waiting for your song? If you are working...get back to work! If you are sitting alone...waiting for the song, you are one creepy mother fucker and would get better luck with your right hand. Even if you are driving...come on dude, pay attention to the road...Don't be the fucking douchebag who annoys us at work.


The Definition of Request - to ask (a person) to do something....it's not a fucking demand asshole

Guest Ranter
Laura

The state of California doesn't want me to buy booze

I had a long hard day at work, and I'm out of booze (it was my 23rd birthday this past weekend). I went to the local Ralph's to buy some Captain Morgan's delicious god damned rum. I was denied.

Here's the back story.
I gave into this shit hole of a state a week ago when I went to apply for my California license. I'd hate to be shit out of luck when some foreigner year ends me in a year down in Hollywood and oh FUCK, still have a WI license. So anyway, I took the 36 or so question exam, got 3 wrong. Awesome I passed. Whatever. I ASSUMED I was going to get my new damn license, just the way it happens in Wisconsin. "Oh you need a new ID? Sick *takes picture*." Bam, 10 minutes later, a shiny new ID.

Well that's NOT how it works in California. I should have guessed there would be bullshit; which is the primary export of this piece of flame ridden garbage of a state. The whore at the counter took my Wisconsin license and PUNCHED A FUCKING HOLE IN IT RIGHT OVER MY BIRTH DATE. Then she printed out a ratty piece of paper, gave it to me, and said "your new license will be in your mailbox in two weeks."

I was horrified and speechless. I KNEW that the shitty piece of paper wouldn't hold up. It did for a while. It worked at several bars in Hollywood (the bars thought my hole punched ID was good enough), and it even worked at the Down show on Friday. Did it work at Ralph's Foods? FUCK NO!

While I was being denied the woman had the balls (to match her moustache) to tell me that the piece of paper would probably work if I got pulled over. So the piece of paper certified and printed by the DMV is good enough for the LAPD but not good enough for Ralph's? What a joke!

I'm still waiting for my new ID.

Add Me As Your Friend!

Bubb:

I am 24, I shouldn't give a fuck about MySpace, but i am single and enjoy tits. So I go through the same process every day and it always goes the same;

1) Nice! new friends, i will see who it is and add/deny them
2) Wow! look how hot this slut is! *click profile*
3) Fuck! she is fake and will just spam the shit out of my profile
4) Deny, and feel let down she wasn't real.
5) Repeat

But the thing is you have to check every time, because if one of these chicks with the name "seduce me" or "violet" or "cum crazy" is actually real and for some reason wants to be my friend, because maybe she just moved to Chicago, wants to make some new friends to go to shows with, hang out, watch the Discovery Channel, and maybe even decided to stop being a slut and wants to settle down with an average height, weight challenged, low income guy. And because I friended her, I might be that guy....or maybe she just wants me to join some dating site so I can see her "naughty pics"....either way, I can't take the chance of missing out on that.

Getting shot down via inter web makes my dick smaller than whiskey...

Destiny's Child

Vince:

LEMME UP GRADE! NO. Why the hell is Beyonce selling DirecTV? Has anyone seen this fuckin' commercial? In a nutshell, it's Beyonce with some "crew"dancing behind her with her singing creative lyrics like "lemme upgrade" and ahh, umm, no that's it. Those are the only lyrics.

Then Beyonce tells you all the great benefits of switching to HD DirecTV like…I don't even remember, I was to angry screaming WHY THE FUCK IS SHE ON THIS COMMERCIAL?!?!

The music isn't even good for R&B. It's shitty, like BAD. REALLY BAD.Plus it has something makes my blood fucking boil. A RANDOM WHISTLE BLOW. This (keep in mind I'm NO R&B/latin/dance expert) is relatively common place in this type of music. But since when has a whistle added to a song? What producer is sitting in a studio thinking, you knowwhat this song needs? It could really use a whistle, that'll really make the music shine. Christ that's irritating…

As if dancing, singing, and well written music wasn't enough, there's a show of a piece of bling reading, you guessed it, "upgrade", in HER TEETH. Like the upgrade is so good she wants to fucking eat it. Well,fuck, she can EAT IT.This commercial doesn't make me want to upgrade my satellite service;it makes me want to find the VP of marketing for direcTV and cram his ass full of flesh eating centipedes.

Please her in the Bedroom!

Vince:

From: Special Edition Watches
Subject: Oyster Perpetual Cosmograph Daytona
From: Please her in the bedroom!
Subject: Vampire Drum Onion Leather Jacker Car-Race

Whose job is it to sit around and dream up spam e-mail subject lines? I know, as a business, they have to think of ways to bypass spam filters, but are they just dropping acid and drawing words out of a god damn hat? If you recieved an e-mail with either of those subjects, what the hell would ever make you want to open them? I mean, BESIDES the sick deals on the “little blue pill”, and of course, who wouldn’t want to “beat her womb with their giant” (another great spam e-mail subject line)? Does anyone actually buy products from these e-mails? “Yeah I’d really like to fix my ED and enlarge my size…and I’m not gonna go to the doctor, but I’ll sure as hell check my e-mail for deals!” You’d seriously have to have fucking down syndrome to buy something from those links. Hell, you’d have to about as smart as Corky from Life Goes on to even CLICK those links.

And since when are watches such a hot commodity, and why the fuck do I need authentic replicas? I can just imagine some psychotic spam marketer behind all those fucking e-mails laughing hysterically while trying to sell a warehouse full of shitty watches he somehow ended up with. Leave me the hell alone - I don’t wear a god damn watch!

Speaking of spam filters, mine just filters e-mails I actually DO need. So not only do I have to check my inbox, I have to dig through the garbage in my spam box to find important e-mails. Spam filters effectively double the amount of work I have to do. What a joke.

Should I really get that upset about this? I don’t care, pass the Jager.

Ice Cream of the Future

Guest Writer
Blaze:

For the past 20 years Dippin' Dots has claimed to be the ice cream of the future. 20 years ago that shit was okay. But just admit it...it is just fucking Ice Cream now. fuck

All New Dodge Family Room

Bubb:

Do you need to be entertained every fucking minute? Sick of spending quality time with your family? Hate having to do things that waste your time while driving, like paying attention to the road? Well fear not, thanks to the geniuses at Dodge you can take care of all of those at once. The new Caravan has like 9 TV screens, a table, and if my eyes serve me right, a self serve potato bar.

What the fuck is so hard about driving 20 minutes to drop little Timmy off with out having to entertain his ass. When i was a kid I sat in the car and was quiet, you look at the shit out the window. Now kids are playing X-Box, watching movies, and eating sandwiches that were made in the kitchen in the back of the car, and not watching what is going on so when that 18-wheeler crosses the median they aren't prepared to get their skulls crushed in...but at least we can rest easy that in their final moments they were able to watch Shrek 3.

Long Hangover Lesson

Blaze:

I wrote this little number this summer in D.C. Thought you might enjoy it. It's a little long, but I know you aren't doing jack shit anyway.

Yesterday I was sitting at my computer procrastinating on some of the work I have to prepare before the school year. Since I am already behind, I did the obvious; I made a hangover rating scale.

Stage 1: This hangover usually occurs after having between 3 and 5 beers and is often a direct result of minimal sleep. After waking, minor head pain similar to the feeling of a Danny Tanner right hook and dry mouth set in. Brief regret exists for going to bed 4 hours ago but is forgotten within the next 2 hours after realizing that domestic bottles are half off at (insert bar name here) on (insert day here).

Stage 2: This hangover generally follows a night of moderate to heavy consumption. Adequate sleep allows the body to properly process alcohol and rid the body of said toxins before awakening. Head pain and stomach issues may be present in the weak-minded. Consumption of water, greasy food, and brief physical activity can eliminate this hangover by lunch time. Bodily functions are not severely disrupted and the cognitive thought processes of a Stage 2 recipient are generally restored by dinner time. As long as the sufferer showers, this hangover may even go undetected by bosses, nosy coworkers, or children looking to tell you that you “smell like daddy.”

Stage 3: This hangover is a little more stubborn and often requires a disciplined regimen of fresh air, hydrating fluids, and excessive caloric intake throughout the day. Stage 3 hangovers often follow nights of drinking that would be considered by some to include excessive shots, and any one of the following; beer bongs, keg stands, or essential peer pressure to ante up. Recipients show minor to moderate regret for drinking as much as they did depending on the prior evenings one to five “fun scale” rating (one being moderate laughs and minimal awkwardness and five being police involvement and a story including a Turkish snow cone given by an old man that works for cash tips).

Stage 4: This hangover often coincides with such statements as “what happened last night?” “where are my pants?” why is there a squirrel on the couch eating Doritos?” and “where are we?” Such statements usually receive a retort along the following lines… “You were really drunk last night,” “the cops said they never saw anyone that enraged,” or if the respondent is a parent, “you shouldn’t drink so much.” The confused and feeble-minded hangover recipient cautiously obliges the respondent by agreeing to never drink again, or at least not for awhile. With stage 4 hangovers, this statement is generally honored for 1 to 4 days depending upon the promise’s relation to future events in time (i.e. village picnics, holidays, or Irish wakes).
Stage 4 sufferers often have trouble making basic movements and generally remind others of a mid-90s Courtney Love. Stage 4 sufferers can respond to basic questions with well thought out one word responses. If the Stage 4 sufferer is required to attend work, menial tasks such as turning computers on and attending smoking breaks can usually be completed with less than half of the office knowing that the sufferer is still totally wasted. Driving is best avoided as objects such as stop signs, parked cars, and small children all closely resemble the Sun. Reaction time is equitable to that of a blind infant with Down syndrome and the sufferer can expect to smell like Ted Kennedy for at least 48 hours.

Stage 5: This hangover has only been experienced by a privileged few. Only those that have undergone the painful effects of this hangover truly understand its colossal staying power and ever-present misery. Stage 5 hangovers often follow in-deliberate and abrupt pass-outs where things like water, food, and voluntary bathroom visits could have prevented embarrassingly painful awakenings in the morning.
Loss of bodily function often precedes the Stage 5 hangover; which only adds insult to the random drunken injury. Although not a requirement, many a time has the Stage 5er awakened to find himself marinating in his own urine (generally in the clothes he was wearing from the night before).
Like a wet blanket in a storm, food and beverage can actually worsen the feeble condition of this poor bastard.
Stage 5 hangovers are generally followed by extremely wicked changes in bodily functions. If the Stage 5er can muster the strength to make it to the bathroom, deposits will generally resemble a completed paint-by-numbers portrait carefully handcrafted by a Golden Retriever. Since the Stage 5er is so dehydrated, urination should be expected sometime in the next two to three weeks.
In the Stage 5 hangover, the brain is so battered from excessive alcohol consumption, such phrases as “are you okay?” cannot be deciphered in less than 5 minutes and responses are limited to caveman-like grunts. Nods are out of the question as any head movement can result in painful spastic contortions and further brain damage. Saturday morning television or reruns of Friends are often too complex for this sufferer and light of any sort resembles a visual of Gilbert Godfrey’s voice in real time. Stage 5ers are often best left alone as even Mother Theresa would annoy the shit out of the sufferer to the point of tears (if he was hydrated enough to produce them). Stage 5ers are way too incapacitated to even think about performing sexually and very few people would even think of rousing a Stage 5er for coitus as their sheer odor and physical appearance bear great resemblance to that of a sedated camel.
Depending upon the events of the previous evening, the Stage 5er might commit to extended periods of abstinence from alcohol in writing (as spoken word is incomprehensible). The sufferer will most likely develop an aversion to a certain kind of liquor or mixed drink (but not beer) as there is not enough domestic beer in the United States to create a Stage 5 without the cooperation of hard alcohol. Said aversions can last anywhere from weeks to a lifetime depending upon the activities committed the night prior. Certain events often push bystanders and concerned friends and family to also ban certain concoctions from the sufferer. Violent fits of rage, embarrassing confessions, and vehicular accidents can force the Stage 5er to negate his right to future consumption as a form of diplomatic sanction placed on him by outside parties. The Stage 5 hangover can last anywhere from 12 hours to 2 or 3 days in real time, but to the sufferer, it feels as if its symptoms last slightly longer than the Carter Administration did.