Pennsylvania – f-your blog

The Rage Within

Have you ever had a wonderful customer service experience that made you feel happy, elated or even just a bit more than satisfied? Well this blog post is not for you. If you’ve been neglected, fucked over, or treated like a criminal keep on reading.

My issues began almost 5 months ago. For some reason I wanted to check my prepaid card balance on my WetZeller card. (names have been changed to protect the guilty, cuz that’s how me do in Merica.) Well it just was not right, there was nothing there. There should have been something.

Well I call in to these lovely folks and get some guy with a thick Indian accent. Pretty standard for a lot of low rate companies or tech companies. I get a canned response and dispute the charge when I find out what it is. A purchase at a Walmart. OMG NO NO NO. Yuck. I haven’t bought anything at a Walmart since I found my soul. The sneakers I bought there once succumbed to the rain. I have been through every addiction on the planet and Walmart actually provided the low point of my life. I bought their underwear. That will forever be my low. The Wets say they will get back to me in 24-48 hours.

Fast forward 3 weeks and 4 calls later. Every call I get the same canned 24-48 hour response repeatedly. The Indian guy turned out to be a blessing. It was Bulgarians, Jamaicans and gypsy thieves after that. The Jamaican woman decided that when I raised my voice mid sentence, she was going to shout into the phone at me. That was tons of fun because I had to hold back. I still did want my money back so I could not bust out with much other then lamely calling her a mean person.

My frustrations continue another week. A full month later I get a response asking for IDs, police reports, a copy of my bank statement, license, proof of residence and proof that I was in my country at the time of the transaction. Deadline:one week. Otherwise they would assume that I was completely full of shit. Now I get ID and police report but I have never been asked for proof I was in my country. I do have a smartphone so I clearly can prove it did not leave this area, but I don’t really have proof I am where I am on a daily basis. There is no need for me to be a daily consumer of anything other then food, water and oxygen. I don’t slither to a methadone clinic everyday, clock in at a job, or go to adult day care so this could be an issue.

The ironic part of all of this is this was all over $50. You would think it would be some insane amount like $5000 or even $500 but no a mere $50. This was the time I also found out the charge was in California. I’m a fucking friend in Pennsylvania who made a charge 7 hours before the fake one. So basically I would have had to hijack a plane from the local airport, convince the flight to head to LA, convince the police to escort me high speed to some random Walmart in the LA Suburbs so I could randomly buy $50 worth of bullshit, and then take a flight directly home so I could call the next day and cry fraud. I wouldn’t fly around that quickly if I stole 5 million dollars and certainly not for $50.

Luckily I had been to the doctors that day. I only go every 6 weeks so I happened to luck out. Otherwise these crooks would have absolutely taken my money. Still though I had to not only provide completely detailed receipts but had to get a “permission slip” from my doctor saying I was there. Then I had to get it notarized. I still have no clue why this was necessary other then to try and make my issue cost more then $50 for me to solve so my money could be pocketed.

Then the wait happened. Again. My EuroTrash contact would string me along a little at a time. She needed a clearer license picture. She needed the monthly statement of my charges, not just the page I printed out. It seemingly went on forever. It was only 3 months in all actuality.

Then I go the great news seemingly out of the blue. Your money has been refunded. I am not sure if this happened so suddenly because I threatened to get my local government involved. It only took 3 days after I made that promise for my money to get back to me.

The money was staring at me in my account. Yet it showed up as being a rejected refund. No one knew what was going on when I called in. I waited 2 more weeks for them to tell me it was available. So I tried to use the money right away. Decline, decline, decline. Someone then suddenly knew what they were doing and said we need to cancel your card and issue you a new one.

This is the part that got me going absolutely batshit. Why wouldn’t you have cancelled the card right away when I told you 4 months ago? Were you waiting for me to put more money on my account so you could buy some suspect meat, forbidden fruit, or earbuds that make music sound like something that is used as a torture device? Waiting for me to send in my bank statement with the account number included?

So I had to wait for this card to come in the mail an additional 2 weeks. It finally came, I gambled the money away rather quickly and chopped that shit up. It was found money so there was no need to save it or buy anything worthwhile. I put it into the same category as drug money or escorting money. It should be spent as quickly as possible.

All in all, my ordeal ended up taking me 3 days short of a full 5 months to get a refund. The extra month of waiting after they refunded me was just the cherry on top.

I sort of wish the rage would continue. It was great motivation for losing weight, running and punching things. I probably should have bought a punching bag but being the reincarnated Jew that I am and current part mad Russian I decided the wall would be better. I must say the wall held up much better then my knuckles.

The rage ended. Or a brief period. Then something worse then fraud came along.

A peppy middle aged woman lacking a sex life. She was not trying to get with me so I can still breathe. She is next in the crossfire…….

By SpaceDog

Out of the Bubble & Into the Future: Contemplating 31 Years of Life

In several days, this Sunday to be exact I will be turning 31. While a lot of my friends in and around 30 complain to me about how they are getting old and how we are getting old, I see this as a new beginning for myself.

I have come to realize that too often in life I am not the person defining myself. I have far too often let others opinions define me, far too often have lived up to every role and stereotype they have defined for me. I am very tired of this.

I am very tired of the label placed on me as being depressed or being bipolar or as being epileptic. I am tired of being the quiet one, the drunk one, the slut, the alcoholic, the compulsive gambler, the unstable.

I have been all of these, yet I have been none of these. They run in and around and through me again. Still I am not as simple as any label. We label people far too often as to characterize them. For the purposes of public opinion this is a great thing but for society as a whole it truly sucks.

THE BUBBLE

I have been living in this rather unfortunate bubble that I fully put myself in, that I believe I wanted to be in for a very long time. I have let people tell me that I am consistently depressed. Maybe I am. I am not as book smart as I should be and I am not as street smart as many of the things in my life I have done should have made me.

The vast imperfections of the world have made me rather sad. If I thought about everything wrong all the time, well of course I would be sad. I am too educated of a person to not be effected otherwise. When you have had your hand in as many cookies jars as myself, it is only wonder that I have all of fingers remaining.

So there has always been something holding me back. Most of the time myself, but a great deal of the time it is something legally or financially. Now I am on the cusp of freedom and frankly I am very nervous. Not freaking out but very soon I will have the ability to pick where I want to live, to go where I want to go, and to be who I want to be.

I am not sure what town to go to or what city I should somehow surface in or if the people will be nice or if be there at all even. I firmly feel I can do this. I pretty much just showed up in Niagara Falls, NY (of all places) and made friends the first real chance I gave myself. They wanted me to move there and I wanted me to move there but I got myself into a mess by not thinking for myself, not being myself.

I wish it was just as easy as me going back to Niagara Falls and reclaiming what I feel that I somewhat lack in my current surroundings. It’s probably all still here inside of me but this getting 5 hours of sleep a night is not enough for me.

I wish I could just take an Ambien but most sleeping pills cause me to blackout and bring out my inner fat girl. Some of us don’t remember and wake up with a mustache like the Pringles guy, I wake up covered in Pringles.

Anyway I cannot wait to get my license back in PA. I have been talking about soooooo many creative ideas with one of my friends that I am going insane not being able to do anything about them. Well I can do something about them but I’ve done enough dreaming. I am ready to cascade the dreams into action.

Well I believe the zzzzzzs are calling me now. I actually think the wind is calling me as well. Where I fall I know not.

By SpaceDog

“If Your Donald Trump’s Assistant Why Do You Drive A Ford Escort?” By Spacedog In His Delightfully Demented Debut

I guess some people just can’t help themselves. Some people just spurt all kinds of lies out of their mouths. I am guilty as well, heck I was caught in a tiny little lie tonight. Some people can lie about much more though. Some lies people tell are funny. Others are mean and there are even a few people that tell the lie even more then they tell the truth.
I once met a rather attractive man. He was from somewhere out on Long Island, I’m not exactly sure where at though. He was 25. So I met him in the city and he wanted to take me out to dinner. OK, why not I thought? He told me he was Donald Trump’s personal assistant. I was young. I was vain. I was thinking cha-ching. I was _________ (fill in your favorite negative word to describe me).
So he comes to Jersey to pick me up. He was driving a Ford Escort. A small little red flag went off in my head. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just cheap with his cars or maybe the beamer was in the shop.
So we go out to eat. We start driving down the road towards nothing in particular and are just talking. He pulls into the mall. I hate the goddamn mall. So I tell him and we leave the mall. It is at this moment that he tells me how much he likes Wendy’s and asks me where there is one. Not my idea of a “date” (I suppose this was a date?) I thought at least Fridays. So we end up at Wendy’s.
He buys me whatever I wanted but then he gets two things from the dollar menu and that was it. Red flag number two I thought. Hmmmmm maybe he could be anorexic? The other half of me was still trying to defend him.
So then we get to the movies. He wants to see nothing in particular and whenever I suggest a movie, he claims he already saw it and it was lame. So we rent a movie. Red flag number 3? Oh he must be a strong man with strong opinions.
So we go and watch the movie. I go in the door, he comes in the window. We watch. He keeps complimenting me. He wants something. What does he want? Oh wait, me? But the little flags go up and my pants don’t. So he leaves after that.
About two weeks later, I go back to New York. I’m having a pretty good time, meeting people, dancing (yes I once danced), and I see someone cute. So we start talking and I tell him I’m dating someone but it isn’t really that serious. I like to talk too much so I describe the guy. He gets a distraught look on his face.”Does he work for Donald Trump?”, cute boy asks me. “Yeah he told me that.” I reply.
Turns out he really was 35 years old, worked at the Dunkin Donuts, lived with the parents and not in the penthouse, was HIV positive, had lied to cute boy, and also infected him.
All shreds of decency for this man completely died. I wanted to throw up, I wanted to scream, I wanted to key this man’s car or worse. Then I saw cute boy and I hugged him. He didn’t deserve all this. I didn’t. No one else did.

Shady man had a decent personality and looked good but everything about him was a lie. His whole being was a lie. The few positives about him were bludgeoned. Thankfully shady man was an exception to the rule.
People still can’t help but lie. The age lie is way too common. The ages of 18,21, 29, and 39 still sends off bells and whistles in my head. 18 because I used to say that when I was 14 or 15, the rest because people like to hold on to their 20s or 30s like there is going to be some catatonic occurrence if they were actually 30 or 40.
I am 30 and damn proud. I gave the whole lets pick a random number in the 20s and be that a thought, but it quickly died there. I like to keep my lies simple. Things like: “I have to go my sister just put our rabbit in the microwave or AAAAAAHHHH I just let a squirrel in the house or my dad is attacking my mom with a meat cleaver.” Those work much better for me.
All I can really say to the true liars is this. Watch out cuz spacedog is gonna go into gay commando mode when he finds out. Anyone who’s gone out with me for drinks in Pennsy knows about this mode. Beware.

-spacedog-