the heavy metal farmer makes me laugh and laugh

identity theft frustration

Blockbuster called me yesterday to tell me that my account was about to be charged $150 for my unreturned videos.

"What?" I asked myself. "I don't rent from Blockbuster."

I promptly called the number left behind via the Robotron voice, only to learn that somebody checked out various episodes of Grey's Anatomy under my name.

"You must have loaned your card out," Blockbuster assured me.

"No, I did not," I assured back. "Check and see how they paid for these videos because I swear to you neither I nor anybody I know would ever rent them."

"With a Visa. Oh, and Becky? It's signed with your name."

"But I don't have a Visa card. And Becky isn't my name. It hasn't actually been my name for decades. Clearly this is an imposter."

"Well, we'll just remove the charges on your behalf."

"Okay... thanks. But shouldn't you call the police or something?" I asked, still mildly horrified by the idea of someone signing my childhood nickname across a credit card receipt, twenty minutes on the other side of town.

"No, you'd be surprised how often this happens. Nine times out of ten, you just loaned your card to a friend and forgot that you did."

"But I'm a 31-year old science teacher. It's not like my friends and I run around town, loaning out our Blockbuster cards to rent back seasons of mediocre television programs."

"Don't worry, we are not going to charge you anything."

"But that's not the point!"

"Well, you can call Customer Service, but there's not actually anything they can do to help you."

Muppets.

Sometimes, this is all you need to turn that frown upside down. You know. If you happen to be frowning.



Things to brighten the day and lessen the headache.

Just taking a moment out of research to profess, once again, my disdain for the command to 'smile!'

Here I am, working hard, concentrating, deep in freaking thought. A co-worker walks by, says Good Morning, Rebecca! How are you?

Busy, I answer, hoping to dissuade her from further conversation.

Well, so am I, she replies as she flashes me a deliberate grin, but at least I can smile!

Here's the thing: when I am in a good mood, I smile all of the time. People for miles remark on my smile and its welcome. Children cry to be near me, just to absorb some of my dental glow.

So fuck off, co-worker, because I smile enough to collect, save, and trade off for days when I am lost in thought and don't have time to pick my head up and beam at your passing.

Today's Morning Radio Surprise Song:
The Whores Hustle and The Hustlers Whore.
Rock.

Today's Greatest Annoyance: People repeatedly ordering me to 'Smile!' Why do I need to smile so you feel better? What if I want to frown? What, I can't frown?

Why Being Told to Smile Bugs the Heck Out of Me by Rebecca:

I don't go around telling fat girls to lose weight.

Smiling all the time is for crazy people.

Perhaps I was in deep thought, interrupted by your trite command to 'smile!'

Don't you tell me what I need to do.

The end.

P.S. If you tell me to smile and I don't want to, don't challenge it. I've obviously decided I don't want my facial expressions to be commanded and don't want to hear, 'But you're such a pretty girl when you smile!' What the fuck.