Seriously. Stop whatever you’re doing and read this, since SOME of you didn’t believe me last night when I said I got in a verbal altercation with this couple your grandparents probably play shuffleboard with. But it’s true, it’s 100% true. I can verify that…
…and I can also verify that the note passed BACK to me read: "Fuck old people & snobs. Thank you and Good Night."
Daisy always puts it so perfectly, so succinctly.
Fuck old people and snobs.
The end,
Love Aubrey
When I was living in Atlanta and traveling a lot, I wasn’t the best about having my mail stopped. I just had a pretty cool friend/boyfriend who not only offered to watch the cats (at which time the menagerie was a bit smaller than it is at present) but also check on my house pretty often and get my mail. This dude (who was kind of just like a pseudo-boyfriend since he was dating – and now is married to – someone else the entire time, a shame b/c he was such a great pseudo-boyfriend that I can’t even imagine what a great hubby he’d be…minus that whole infidelity thing, of course) was a few years older, foreign (my lust for those abroad remains today), hunky, great in bed AND responsible. I told ya he was a catch…again, minus that cheating shit. Anyway.
So after he and I stopped doing whatever we were doing (and we were doing a LOT of it) I kind of had gotten myself in the habit of NOT having my mail stopped. As such, I returned from Australia one time with an overflowing mailbox full of bills and credit card offers and actual credit cards…um, what? I hadn’t applied for those. What’s a Fleet card? Wierd. And a Discover Card? Who am I, your crazy cheap Great-Aunt on your Dad’s side whose desire for cashback is voracious? NO! I’m just a menagerie-loving world traveler, geesh. Anyway, within this assortment of unexpected mail was a letter from one of the credit cards that they thought someone had been opening fake accounts in my name. (Um, you think? I *STILL* don’t know what I’d use a Fleet card for.) This was back in the day where my expendable income, on a good month, was $100 so there was NO way I would be able to start charging $7500 in two days. (I may be a lot of things, but a shopaholic I am NOT.) So, I did all the things I was supposed to, put "credit alert" on my meager credit report (again, this was YEARS ago) and though I don’t think they ever caught the person, it was a mere blip in my life. "I’ve been a victim of identity theft," I’d say, "And honestly, it wasn’t that bad!"
Oh, the irony…THE IRONY OF IT ALL.
So when someone stole my purse last month when I was robbed, I knew what to do. Called the credit card companies and canceled them immediately. Called Bank of America to tell them to cancel the checks (thankfully, I had my debit card with me) and then promptly put on all of my jewelry the next morning (a fine accoutrement to my sweatsuit), marched my perky behind into the nearest branch to open a security deposit box and close my account. Annoying, yes. Overly difficult, no. Case closed.
Only it wasn’t. Upon checking my account a week or so later, I noticed a $1000 transfer that I hadn’t authorized from one of my checking accounts to another. I called Bank of America AGAIN, this time freaking out a bit since this was a phone transfer which would have required my SS#, changed my PIN and adhered to their instructions to go into a branch and promptly close ALL of the accounts. Apparently, the dude at the bank was so enamored with all of my bling that he FORGOT to close the account, leaving it vulnerable to this person to transfer money into and then write checks out of.
I was pissed. I was irate. I was a woman with a mission, and that was to kick Dennis Peng in the ass. I MARCHED my PISSED OFF behind right in there before closing time and told them just what I thought of their bank. They apologized (not nearly enough, in my opinion), assured me that it was a mere mistake and that I should close all three accounts and open new ones just to be safe. Pain in my ass, yes. Annoying? Yes. Scary since someone has my SS#? Oh hell yes. But, if that was all there was (and since they were finally agreeing to put bars on my windows) I figured I could survive.
Only that WASN’T all there was.
I checked my balance today and found a ton of overdrafts. What the…how can there be overdrafts on a CLOSED ACCOUNT?
Because the accounts WERE NEVER CLOSED.
While on the phone with one of SEVEN Bank of America associates that I had the pleasure to be transferred to and from over the course of nearly three hours, we also discovered a fun little perk: someone had gotten checks made with MY address and MY account number and was using them all over the city! HI, Robert John Lerma, if that’s even your real name, you do NOT live at my address and you do NOT need to be spending $150 at Macy’s using MY account. NO. YOU. DO. NOT.
So now it’s official: I am the victim of identity theft, and FUCK YES it is a huge hassle and FUCK YES it is annoying and FUCK YES I am steaming mad and physically and emotionally drained from sitting on the phone for THREE GD HOURS WITH PEOPLE WHO DON’T KNOW HOW TO USE THEIR TRANSFER BUTTON. I will be marching my FUCKING PISSED OFF AS HELL behind down there today (if my phone arrives in time; if not, tomorrow) and promptly withdrawing all of my hard earned (heh) cash and taking it to a bank where they know how to use a phone system properly and know how to close an account.
Watch out, Dennis Peng, your day is about to get a WHOLE lot shittier, just like mine did.
Oh, and since I got all deep on you yesterday, I figure you should know my REAL resolution.
I’m bringing drunk dialing back.
(Them other boys don’t know how to act.)
When I was younger, I would make my new years resolution way in advance, and it was always the same:
NO MORE FRENCH FRIES.
Then, inevitably, a few days (ok, in some cases, a few hours) would go by and we’d be at a place that served Tater Tots (YUM, The Vortex) and I’d justify the consumption of other fried potato products as a separate entity entirely. And thus the slippery slope would begin and, without fail, I was back to loving those fried spuds with gusto before Black History month rolled around.
So I then tweaked my resolution to give UP giving up French Fries. I’ve been far more successful at that one. And even though habits die hard, I think it’s time to move on and make some real, life changing resolutions this year. And so the story begins.
I recently bought a small Moleskine notebook (you know, the famous, pricey ones used by Hemingway and all those other famous people?) to replace the barely-used one that was in my purse that got stolen. I’ve decided that I’m not only neglecting my REAL writing, I’m also not journaling in any sort of consistent manner (read: three times in this past year all ending in "I’ll write more tomorrow, am too tired" and then six months passes.) In an effort to make this less sporadic and more experiential, I’ve been taking it with me in my Big Honkin’ Bag(TM) – aka, my fabulous purse – and writing when the inspiration hits. Or even when it doesn’t. Because somewhere in my ramblings may be something of substance (THAT, and it saves you from hearing ALL the sordid details of my drama-filled life.) Anyway, I used it while I was traveling to and from Seattle to just jot down some of the random thoughts I’ve had and in re-reading what I had written, certain things jumped out at me. Certain things that were very similar to what my nearest and dearest have repeated, over and over again, meaning that I pretty much agree with their sentiments and yet there’s still something that’s stopping me from acting on them. Apologies for being this vague, but suffice it to say that I think I’m getting close to finally taking my own advice. And it’s LONG overdue.
So while we’re up in Seattle for the AMAZING party and (unofficial) opening of McLeod Residence (more on that later), Buster and Lele put out this ceramic bunny and had people write fortunes to put in it. I , of course, represented the more "colorful" fortunes , though threw in a few more serious ones for good nature as well. (I mean, what if EVERYONE got the one that asked them to take off their pants?!?) So, I chose one on NYE night and received "You will kiss a wonderful stranger" (which I’d take a picture of the fortune if my camera wasn’t broken from fulfilling the prophecy of the aforementioned fortune). Anyway, fitting. Thanks, Universe. So far, 1 for 1.
The day after – still in my beauteous party dress, natch – I headed back to McLeod Residence to go pick up my Polaroid that I couldn’t find before leaving the night before, and after turning off all of the lights and getting ready to head downstairs, I noticed the porcelain bunny from across the room and, on a whim, decided to choose another fortune. Shuffling my hand around in the ceramic innards of the rabbit, I chose and to my amazement, the universe had done it again. The card read:
AVOID THE DRAMA
The sentiments weren’t even the most astounding part; it was who wrote it. I know that handwriting, know that drama that’s being referred to, have LIVED that drama. So yes. I think it’s due time to start listening to my friends, start listening to myself, and – apparently – start listening to the universe since somehow, out of hundreds of fortunes, I chose the one I needed the most.
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Well, I survived. My camera, however, did not, a result of apparently dropping it not once but, um, four or five times. IN A ROW. Aaah, Champagne, how you love me. I also left my phone in Seattle, of course, just to make things difficult and more interesting, but alas, I survived. I even managed to land myself a superhot Scottish lad for the evening (the hunky one next to me) and, um, the morning too. Note that my opening line to him was, and I quote (as recanted by aforementioned hottie, “Are you really Scottish or are you just dressed like a douchebag?” Glad to see my charm still works. I also called him Josh all evening (and part of the morning) until he kindly informed me that his name was Phil. Um, whoops. They both have four letters, right!???
Anyway, more stories and regalia and pics to come just as soon as I can get my camera fixed and get some sleep. Because you KNOW a good NYE doesn’t involve a lot of that.
Nor do hot Scottish lads.
Yum.
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Hurrah for 2006.
Hurrah for 2007.
Hurrah for the programmers to finally, successfully, hoist the vintage coke machine up the stairs. We exclaim this with glee (though Ali, with a bit o’ skepticism, and Lele, a bit of delight.)
Happy New Year, everyone.
It’s mere hours before 2007, and I just realized I didn’t get anywhere near completing my "what I’ve accomplished this year" list as I had hoped to do. In fact, I think I actually DREAMED this list, but – in true Aubrey fashion – I can only remember bits and pieces of it. I would try and recreate said list if I weren’t enjoying a lovely "Trader Joe’s 2006 Vintage Ale" and let me HIGHLY emphasize the word ENJOYING. Truly, it’s tasty.
So instead of listing off how rocktastically fantatsic 2006 was (which, OBVI, ’twas), I’ll pontificate on the excitement that is this evening. So here’s the story:
Our awesome friends Buster McLeod and Lele McLeod (long story on why they both have the same name…they’re not married or related in the ‘normal’ sense) are opening up this eponymously fantastic art gallery thing called McLeod Residence in Seattle. It’s this funky, beautiful, inspiring space with an even more inspiring concept with funky, fantastic things like a PHOTOBOOTH that automatically publishes to Flickr. Um, how awesome is that? They’re having their "unofficial" opening party tonight (the REAL opening is January 5th, for those of you in the area.) Anyway, Team SF (as we’ve been dubbed) has made our respective ways up to the land of the original Starbucks (though I didn’t realize I couldn’t catch the fish at the Famous Fish Market. WTF?) Ali got here on Friday; Jess and I arrived last night and Cameron and Ryan are putting in a brief appearance for a 24-ish hour stint to bless this city with their presence. We had a ladies’ PJ party last night, a tasty lunch today, some HOT PHOTOBOOTH ACTION earlier (How many programmers does it take to get a vintage Coke Machine up the stairs? 6. One to blog about it, one to tag the Flickr photos, and four to hoist. Programmers apparently DO NOT hoist well. Shocking, I know.) And so we’re shortly convening to the Ace Hotel for some preparty pizza action, to don our fanciest duds, and usher in the New Year with fabulous friends.
And so I leave you, and 2006, with my best wishes for a 2007 that exceeds even YOUR highest expectations. Surprise yourself…I certainly plan on it.
Me, Then…
Me, Now.
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27 years later, I’ve still got it.
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Screw whiskers on kittens (not literally, of course) – *MY* favorite things include white bread with the appropriate amount of butter and american cheese all put together to make the perfect grilled cheese.
Heavenly, especially for Christmas brunch.
Who says we don’t know how to celebrate here in Ohio?
Merry, Merry Christmas to all of y’all – here’s to hoping you got all of YOUR favorite things this Holiday!
Damnit…slept through it AGAIN.
AubreySabala.com 