Vonage=Vodka, Part Deux

When it works, it works great. When it doesn't, it will drive a man to drinking.

The damn Vonage phone went from not receiving calls yesterday, to neither receiving nor making calls today.

Another call to tech support, another help ticket, another lost cause. We know we have only one month left until the Vonage contract expires, but damn, we have already paid for THIS month. I called to cancel Vonage and Ms. Rivera, the lady who answered, went through all the bullcrap only to tell me that there is a cancelation fee of $39.95 if we cancel before July 7 or July 8. Hell, I don't remember.

So after consulting with the Good Nurse, we decided to leave Vonage connected (even though it won't be used) until July 7 or July 8.

Having said all of that, I say this: unless you are some sort of computer engineer, I would encourage you to AVOID VONAGE. And, avoid their stock. With bullshit like this, I see a ship about to sink. DEEP.

If my phone were working, I would call "Help Me Howard." But I'm sure he is buried with other Vonage customers who can't get results or EVEN A CALLBACK from tech support.

Vonage=Vodka

After 4 wonderful months of a courtship with Vonage (the internet telephone company), beginning in September, 2005, I was delighted. But then came the new year and new problems of all sorts. First, they lost the old phone number. They assigned a new one. This is a challenge all by itself, but while looking for a new job, it can be costly beyond imagination. Exhibit 2: for no reason at all, the Vonage phone will fill with static during a call or when we pick up the phone to make a call. After some 36 calls to Vonage and some 36 help tickets between January and now (June 2006), with promises of return calls unfulfilled, the Good Nurse and I have decided to once again become Verizon customers.

The final straw is the catastrophic failure today. Early this morning, my new boss attempted to call me at home. He received a message that the phone is "disconnected." (This is a technical issue, not a billing issue.) So, naturally, he called my mobile to find out what was wrong. Egads! With my new employer paying the home phone bill, experimentation with a provider who has shown nothing but failure in both service and follow-up is not an option.

Enough is enough. I know that some (many?) are happy with their service, and YAY! for them. As I pour my chilled Grey Goose into a Dixie cup, I realize that while Vonage is $10 a month cheaper (the price of a cocktail), it is not worth the 2-4 hours per month calling Bangalore to hear promises of return calls that never arrive.

At least now we will have something to tickle our funny bone every time we see one of those damn Vonage commercials. Perhaps the best news is that in a +/-600 sqaure foot apartment is that we have one few item taking up precious space. (Gotta run--time to pour some more Grey Goose.)

Home Office: Day 2

Today, Thursday, June 22, was the second day visiting the home office of my employer in Atlanta, Georgia. Yesterday, everything went much as I had expected. However, I broke my self-imposed boycott of Sonic Drive In. I just couldn't help myself. I made my way into one of the stalls, ordered a Sonic cheeseburger, ate it in record time.

Then, I ordered again. I could not resist the temptation of the Chocolate-Caramel Junior Banana Split. You know, the one they advertise on Discovery Channel every few minutes. Ladies and Gentlemen: it was a letdown. Don't misunderstand, I did enjoy it. But the sensory explosion I had expected did not occur. In the 101 degree heat of Georgia, the cold ice cream was a welcome dessert. It just didn't live up to the commercial.

But back to the topic at hand, Day 2:

I am bounced from office to office--from HR to IT and on to other letters. At one point, walking through a cubicle farm, I hear a squawk. Like some sort of bird in severe pain. Well, I was half right. It was a bird. But he was not in pain. He was wanting attention. I clandestinely approached him. Yes, there in the middle of a normally calm office environment was a bird on a perch. And then the bird talked! I can't remember what he said, because I was in shock. It's like seeing a cat in a swimming pool. I am sure it's happened before, but I hadn't experienced it. I looked around me. The parrot bird's owner (friend?) came over to introduce me. She said that the parrot bird must like me. She said that he normally is not friendly to strangers, but he was eating out of my hand (literally!). Then the kicker. Someone else said that the bird probably feels kinship because I have graying hair, and he has graying feathers. Then they all laughed. At me.

What could I say? I assumed a defensive posture and said, "yes, maybe our colors are alike, but *I* use product and he couldn't even open the jar." I puffed up my chest, let the hairs on the back of my neck relax, and flew right out of there. The bird remained and spent the next few minutes talking to the workers.

They said this would happen...

Suddenly, just after turning 35, it seems that all of my pants fit tighter--or don't fit at all. I haven't really gained that much weight, between 5 and 10 pounds. But for some reason, all of that weight has gone DIRECTLY to the general area where I normally button my pants. This is what so many people told me would happen, from my brother to an old boss, as they slyly chuckled. Maybe the return to work will speed up my metabolism and shake off those annoying little pounds right away.

But what if that doesn't happen? I realize that I may have to bite the bullet, actually visit a store of some sort that sells pants, and buy some more. But do I keep the old pants in anticipation of weight loss? Or, do I just suck in my gut until I find the best exercise regimen to get rid of the weight. I've also heard that quitting smoking causes one to add weight. Which has the greater risk? Smoking or having an unhealthy weight? Should I start smoking again?

The Good Nurse and I live in a small apartment with a small closet. Between the two of us, there ain't much room left. And we really don't have a lot of clothes to start with. We've already bought those plastic bags from late-night TV where you put in clothes, hook the vacuum to a plug in the bag, and suck all of the air out. It leaves a nice, tidy package that fits neatly under the bed. And yet the closet remains full. Now I'm afraid to get my work shirts laundered because I would have to hang them in the living room. And while I grew up a poor hillbilly in Kentucky, that would hit a little TOO close to a time and place long ago--when my grandmother would take in cleaning to make a couple extra dollars, and we would keep the clothes!

Rockin' on the Esplanade

Saturday, June 17, will mark 21 days (or three weeks) that I have been a nonsmoker. Part of any successful smoking cessation program includes exercise. That's been pretty easy for me and normally takes the form of a bike ride on the East River Esplanade. Now, I don't know what the hell an "esplanade" is, but I also saw the same thing on the menu at La Cucina Uptown. Whatever. Also, when you say it out loud, it sounds like something that might be uttered by Carson Kressly. Speaking of Carson and smoking--he once bummed a cigarette from me at a concert. But no more!

Anyway, there I was, about 1:00 this afternoon, heading south from 96th Street. As I approach the Carl-something park, I notice how many people there are sunbathing on this gorgeous day. Some of them are attractive men who are shirtless. My first thought is, "don't these people have jobs?" My second thought was, "why can't this esplanade be clothing optional? That way I could see these cuties from stem to stern, as it were."

Alas, I realized that I was jobless, and that these people were probably on "summer hours," which is more common in New York City than other places. (Summer hours involves having a full day or half day off from work some Friday's or every Friday, depending on the employer.)

A little bit of sadness crept in, however, when I realized that, very likely, this is the last time, on what is a regular work day for nearly everyone, that I can just jump on my bike and hippity-hoppity down the East River trail. From now on, it will be limited to weekends, holidays, or vacation days. For next Wednesday, I hop on an aeroplane and go south--south to Atlanta, Georgia, for the next step in my career path. Yes, my new employer is based in Georgia--home of Chik-Fil-A, Waffle House, Coca-Cola and Alan Jackson. I will remain NYC-based, but I will get my share of the food I had in my formative years during visits to home office. Ahhhh. Yes, I'm feeling a bit sentimental. Sunshine does that to me sometimes. And, if you're not working as you read this, get out there and enjoy this day! It's a beaut.

Damn You, Sonic Drive-In

Either the Discovery family of cable channels has some of the most savvy advertising salespeople in the business or Sonic Drive-In's advertising agency has complete dumbasses buying its television commercial time.

Why? Because Sonic-Drive In has been advertising FREQUENTLY on the different channels of the Discovery family, which reach FAR beyond any Sonic location. (I am a documentary/real-life program junkie.)

Sonic Drive-In is one of my favorite burger joints/ice cream joints. It was the first "chain" fast food place that ever arrived in my home county way back in the '80's. I think about it often enough without seeing its commercials on television here in NYC. I once attempted to Yahoo! Sonic in an effort to find one near NYC. There ain't one to be found. The nearest is in Ohio, Virginia or West Virginia. That's a long way from Manhattan (New York, not Kansas). I'm not even going to link to Sonic Drive-In's website because I am so darned perturbed.

It makes little or no sense for a regional chain of any kind to do national advertising. (If you are reading this from Arizona, imagine seeing ads for Duane Reade. Have you ever even heard of it?) The ads are wasted on the the 60 to 75% of the population of this country that doesn't have reasonable access to Sonic restaurants. It would be more cost effective and productive to hire a full-time person to focus advertising buying in the key regional markets where the chain has a presence. For example, there are a dozen or so locations within the television viewing area and radio listening area of Nashville, TN. Buy local ads there! Local advertising costs less and reaches the target market! But now I'm preaching. I'll climb down off this soapbox now.

From now on, every time I see Sonic Drive In advertising its new banana split product on TV, I am going to run directly to McDonald's, without passing "go", without collecting $200, and buy an ice cream sundae while thumbing my nose at Sonic. Except for the Sonic in Scottsville, KY. The owner there always would have a special treat for the winners of the boys who had good seasons in the local boys' baseball leagues, of which I was an 8-year member on some very successful teams. I remember that, and I appreciate it. Thanks, Bill. I'll still give you my business.

Is it that time of year again?

Statistically speaking, today I begin middle age. The ripe old age of 35. But that doesn't become official until 5:30pm (EDT).

So have your sunglasses handy--that rain will turn to sunshine in time for your evening commute!

Thought of the Day

If it is necessary for you to use your fingers as air quotes to help you communicate something, maybe you should just keep your mouth shut to start with.

A Good Time Was Had by All

I think we all have a pre-departure "checklist," at least mentally, of things we need before we leave our homes for whatever reason. For me, that "checklist" has often included these items, which I carry in my backpack:

-iPod w/headphones
-cell phone
-cigarettes
-wallet
-lighter or matches
-a book or newspaper
-sunglasses
-chewing gum
-house keys
-ink pen
-day planner
-ibuprofen
-a bottle of anticonvulsants from the benzodiazepine family of CNS depressants

A recent foray to Long Island, though, found me with so few items that I didn't even need my backpack. Not even the smaller one. These are the things that traveled with me:

-cell phone
-Bluetooth earpiece
-house keys
-chewing gum
-nicotine gum
-wallet

Does this speak of an internal movement to more masculinity? Hardly--I think my recent fascination with Bette Davis would cancel that out. The true reason for a lighter load, I suspect, is that I no longer fear that cigarettes will get crushed or broken if I leave them in my jeans pocket.

And if you did not make the trek to East Meadow, Long Island, for the indoor cookout hosted my Marcus and Jess, you missed a wonderful time. I'm happy to plant my feet under their table any time! Even if Jess nearly caught the kitchen on fire by "grilling" indoors. Rain, you see, had prohibited the original plans of having the cookout on the back patio.

And finally, to explain to my yankee friends once again, it's NOT a barbecue if you're grilling. Barbecue is a process that involves long, lower-temperature cooking using smoke. Just so you know.

Next to "Irony" in the dictionary

On Saturday, June 3, at 8pm, I reached the milestone of being a nonsmoker for 8 days.

In the mailbox the same day, I was surprised with a birthday gift. It was from the Phillip Morris Company, maker of Marlboro cigarettes--my former brand.

If anyone is in need of (or simply desires) a metal bottle opener, the shape and size of a credit card, suitable for storage in your wallet, I'll trade it to you for a vodka tonic.

Homeland Security Fiasco

I am thrilled to death that my home county, in the most rural of rural areas, has brand new equipment for the local Rescue Squad. Many, many years ago, this was known as the "Civil Defense," a remnant of the Cold War. These fine, new fire trucks, diving tanks, computers and other new gadgets will serve them well in protecting and preserving the lives and lifestyles of people who live in and around Scottsville, KY. They were able to buy this new equipment courtesy of a Homeland Security Grant.

One of these days, this new equipment may one day save the life of someone I know or love. For that I am grateful. This equipment should NOT have been purchased with funds from the Department of Homeland Security. Of that, I am sure.

I am biased because I live in New York City. I did not live here on 9/11/01. I do live here now and lived here during the blackout, the "bombing" of the British Embassy, and the transit strike. I agree with Mayor Bloomberg when he says that Homeland Security money should go to terror targets. Scottsville is not one, unless the terrorists want to strike the former home of "Jews for Jesus." (It has since moved to Tennessee.)

I am not suggesting that rural communities don't need or deserve important, life-saving equipment. I AM suggesting that it should be distributed from some other funds, if our leaders choose to provide money.

By the way, why did small communities in western Kentucky fare so well on Homeland Security funds? Congressman Ed Whitfield is facing a tough re-election this fall...

It was a GEMINI night!

I am in the mood to OUT people. Yes, I know it's shocking, but THESE people are GEMINI'S!

1. Keith
2. Jase
3. Patrick
4. Adam
5. Yours truly

(that's TEN people already!!!)

I know there are more, but I can't think of them after the post-sugar-coma from all of the good food and generous libations.

Oh yeah, it rained, too. But like all good Gemini's, we know that sunshine follows the rain. Always. :)