How to Close an Interesting Year.

Tam and I consider 2010 to be an interesting year, and by interesting, I mean ACK! Oh my fucking BRAINS, what the hell was that?

To be honest, I don’t even remember how the hell it started, but I do know 2009 was kind of a pisser/bummer of a year end with the divorce and everything, so 2010 didn’t start out as anything too spectacular (despite the horoscope insisting otherwise: banner year, stellar things happening, blah, blah, blah…).

There were good things that happened, great things too. And a few not-so-great things, but let’s not dwell on those not-so-good moments, ok? In fact, please excuse me while I push those little bastard moments right over the nearest cliff.

Oh, much better!

But the end of the year has turned out to be equally hilarious as it is frustrating.

For example, Tam and I had to hit the grocery store. We frequent this particular store because they know us, it’s not a department store, so the parking lot is smaller as is the store itself, and they’re gay friendly. At least, they’re friendly to us.

While we were standing in line, a Snarfy Old Dude was busy perusing the supermarket tabloids, when he pulled one out and in a loud voice quoted the headline, “Who’s Gay and Who’s Not?”
I looked over at him and said, “I am.”
Snarfy Old Dude suddenly found it difficult to say anything else.
Tam and I found it difficult to not stand there laughing like a couple of deranged hyenas.

When we got home, I wanted to check on the status of a bank transfer, so I got online, discovered nothing was doing what it was supposed to be doing, and I got a little cranky. I pulled up the “contact us” information of the financial institution, took down the numbers and the options I wanted on their phone tree, and made the call.

I wanted to talk to a live operator. I needed to verbally eviscerate some miserable wretch because my money wasn’t where it was supposed to be and I was concerned. When I say “concerned,” I really mean pissed as hell. I dialed the number, and pressed the option I got from the online information.
The same online information that was written on the bank’s website.
And learned it was not a viable option! Excuse me?
My grip on the phone receiver tightened. I waited, listening again to the options, and pressed a different button, one that I knew would not give me the information I wanted, but what the hell?
At the end of that waste of time, it gave me the chance to get information on transfers and which button I needed to push to get to said information. I pushed that button. That very button their automated operator TOLD me to push for that information.
And learned THAT was not a viable option either and I needed to make another selection!
Then? Then I did a very childish thing. I began smacking the button pad on the phone, hitting several of them at once while casting aspersions on the species and parentage of the engineers of such a technological nightmare as that phone tree. Childish? Yes, indeed. Satisfying? HELLS YES!
What’s better? In the middle of my tirade, a voice came over the line stating that I would now be connected to a live operator.

Do you think they heard me?