What's in a Name?

Today, while babysitting at Jazzercise, one four-year-old girl said to a five-year-old boy, "Is it OK if I just call you Trevor? Cause I don't know your name."

I'm all for this. Let's not bother with asking. Let's just pick names for people. You- you look like a Denise.

I'd Like to Give a Shout Out...

To Community America for their fabulous automated voice system. But first, I will credit them for calling and checking on my "suspicious account behavior". No, really. Thank you. Having had my identity stolen before, this is much appreciated.

However, the system they have to check the transactions leaves much to be desired. Somehow, just from the phone you call from, they can identify your account. Then you enter your last 4 digits of your SSN. And then comes the robot with the Asian accent.

First the regular robot says, "Please verify the last 4 transactions." Then the robot with the accent says something and the date and amount. You are then supposed to verify it. My particular robot said, "Sahltay Eegwanay. August 18, 2009. $10.52." You'll have to imagine the accent yourself. Then you're supposed to press 1 to verify, press 2 if you don't recognize it, press 3 to repeat the transaction.

I had to repeat it about four times before I finally figured out what the heck the name of the business was. And it was only because of the date and then amount. Mind you I was driving at the time so I had no bank statements to look at.

The transaction was for my lunch today. Salty Iguana. That's not what was said. They should really think about some quality control. That robot should be fired for not learning phonics.

Check Your Battery!

Ever since I was little, people haven't been able to figure out what my name is when I say it. And trust me, it's not because I have a speech impediment or have a lack of enunciation.

My first memory of this recurring problem was when we used to visit Santa every year. I'd sit on his lap and he'd say, "What's your name?" I'd tell him and then he'd reply, "What would you like for Christmas, Katie?" Crap. I knew then I wouldn't get what I was asking for because he didn't know who I was.

As the years passed this problem continued. Everywhere I went and I had to introduce myself people could never get it right on the first try. The first guess is always, "Katie?" No. I try again. Then, "Hayley?" Nope. One more time. Then it's usually some unique name they've come up with like "Kayley". If only they wouldn't quit listening after the first syllable they'd stand a fighting chance.

This is why in college I switched to my "bar name" of Kelly. It solved so many problems. The problem of a) no one could figure out what I was saying in a loud bar and 2) I didn't want the gomer to know my real name anyway.

This morning while working out this same problem arose. Our instructor shouted (over the loud music) to introduce yourself to the person next to you. I did and of course we went through the above routine. I left her thinking my name was Hayley because it was just easier that way.

Jazzercise is kind of like a bar. Loud music, lots of people watching, some inept dancing...I should have gone with Kelly.

Cats

Cats have an internal signal that goes off whenever you are doing a project on the floor that is very cat unfriendly. They sleep all day and as soon as you hit the floor with scissors, glue, and things that need to be placed just so, here they come!

Today I was making a job chart for my classroom and had to lay out letters across the top of my poster board. All day my cats had been sleeping. I mean all day. Couldn't even lift their heads to speak to me as I passed. The second I started laying out the letters they both came down. Of course the letters got messed up, everything got out of alignment. One sat on the materials, another played with the ruler. Sigh.

I remember this happening when my mom used to try and cut out patterns on the living room floor. They just can't help themselves.

Karma

Yes, I've been blog-happy lately. Enjoy.

Those of you who are lucky enough to be my facebook friends may recall that earlier this week my status was that I was, "delighted to find a 9th Pop-Tart in my box of 8."

It really was quite exciting. First I was pissed because I thought they had jipped me and I only had seven. There was one lonely tart in a package, sealed all by itself. Then I counted again and there were four other packages of two. Delight.

After posting this on facebook, most of my friends were happy for me but one naysayer said that it was failed quality control and I should worry. Debbie Downer! I was still ecstatic.

Yesterday I reached into my cabinet to pull out a package of 100 calorie chocolate covered pretzels. This box lives on the top shelf so I just blindly grab and pull down. When I did, I discovered that I had...an empty bag. Mind you the bag was sealed, but it was sans the pretzels. I've been robbed!

So I guess this is Karma repaying me for that extra Pop-Tart. I knew I had to make it up somewhere.

Am I Senile?

After yesterday's eye doctor debacle I was convinced that I had gone crazy and my blurry vision was a figment of my imagination. Turns out, according to my trusty doctor, that my vision has changed since May (yes, just mere months ago) and a new prescription was in order. So, the technician took me to a room where she gave me a trial pair of these new contacts. I threw away the contact from my right eye and put the new one in, no problem. Then, you know me, starting gabbing and just went about my business, put the left one in, and left.

The rest of the day I was still thinking, "Are you sure Doc? I really think there's something wrong with my left eye (the original problem and reason for the doctor visit)." I went through the day with my vision still blurry.

At one point in the afternoon I decided to take it out and put in back in again. Didn't fix it. Noticed that it looked like it wasn't fusing to my eye properly. Huh. Had my sister look at it. She confirmed it didn't look right (the contact, that is).

Last night when I was taking out my contacts I discovered that I was wearing three. One in the right and two in the left. Yep, never took the old one out before I put the new one in. Explains a lot.

And to add to my senility, as I walking out of school today, I reached in my purse to answer my phone and only then realized I had a hot pink post-it stuck to my boob. I wonder how long that magic had been happening.

A Trip to the Eye Doctor

So...I'm at the eye doctor today. I sign in, prompt as usual, and take a seat the adequate distance from the desk and the one other patron in the waiting room. I take out my book.

I had just checked out this book at the library mere moments before and it's by a fairly new-t0-me author. Things like this scare me. I don't like change. I open the book and begin reading and become slightly frustrated as the book has all this navy lingo that I don't understand. Sometimes her books are hard to get into but generally turn out to be really good. So I have to concentrate extra hard to try and process this lingo. Add the problem that I'm already having with my vision, hence I'm at the eye doctor, and my ADD and things are getting a little difficult.

Enter the woman at the optical store. About 20 feet away is the entrance to the optical store where an elderly woman is trying to decide on what new pair of frames to buy. The young clerk is trying very hard to help her make a decision as she gives an entire Shakespearean dialogue regarding every pair. Once she finally decides she has to go into detail about the payment. Is it tax deductible? The clerk told her about 5 times who to make the check out to. Yes, check.

The next layer to this montage would be the two elderly gentlemen. Brothers, boyfriends, I dunno. But they had a running commentary about everything. And they were loud breathers. And the waiting room is bigger than my living room but they chose to sit right across from me. I'm trying to read navy acronyms, the lady in the optical shop is filing taxes, the gentlemen are breathing loudly...enter couple #2.

Now by this time my appointment has come and gone. I'm annoyed. I've read two pages, one page I read three times. Couple #2 came in, sat down...right next to me! There's an entire side of the waiting room that is completely empty. Not only that, they both decide to open peppermints at this time.

ADD

blurred vision

Navy lingo

"Who do I make my check out to?"

Loud breathing

Candy wrappers

WTF?

And then they called my name and I bolted.