THEY WALK AMONG US AND THEY REPRODUCE - part Deux

Like wearing socks with sandals, all the real pleasures in life are denied us.

HELLO, OPERATOR

ANOTHER CHAPTER OF "THEY WALK AMONG US AND REPRODUCE!!

Actual call center conversations!

Customer: 'I've been calling 700-1000 for two days and can't get through;
can you help?'
Operator: 'Where did you get that number, sir?'
Customer: 'It's on the door of your business.'
Operator: 'Sir, those are the hours that we are open.'

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Samsung Electronics
Caller: 'Can you give me the telephone number for Jack?'
Operator: 'I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand who you are talking about.'
Caller: 'On page 1, section 5, of the user guide it clearly states that
I need to unplug the fax machine from the AC wall socket and
telephone Jack before cleaning. Now, can you give me the
number for Jack?'
Operator: 'I think it means the telephone plug on the wall.'

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RAC Motoring Services
Caller: 'Does your European Breakdown Policy cover me when I am
traveling in Australia ?'
Operator: 'Does the policy name give you a clue?'

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Caller (enquiring about legal requirements while traveling in Europe )
'If I register my car in France , and then take it to England ,
do I have to change the steering wheel to the other side of the car?'

 

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Directory Enquiries
Caller: 'I'd like the number of the Argo Fish Bar, please'
Operator: 'I'm sorry, there's no listing Are you sure that the spelling is correct?'
Caller: 'Well, it used to be called the Bargo Fish Bar but the 'B' fell off.' 

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Then there was the caller who asked for a knitwear company in Woven.
Operator: 'Woven? Are you sure?'
Caller: 'Yes.. That's what it says on the label -- Woven in Scotland ...' 

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On another occasion, a man making heavy breathing sounds from a phone box told a worried operator: 'I haven't got a pen, so I'm steaming up the window to write the number on.'

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Tech Support: 'I need you to right-click on the Open Desktop.'
Customer: 'OK.'
Tech Support: 'Did you get a pop-up menu?'
Customer: 'No.'
Tech Support: 'OK. Right-Click again. Do you see a pop-up menu?'
Customer: 'No.'
Tech Support: 'OK, sir. Can you tell me what you have done up until this point?'
Customer: 'Sure. You told me to write 'click' and I wrote 'click'.' 

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Tech Support: 'OK. At the bottom left hand side of your screen, can
you see the 'OK' button displayed?' 

Customer: 'Wow! How can you see my screen from there?'

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Caller: 'I deleted a file from my PC last week and I just realized that I need it.
So, if I turn my system clock back two weeks will I get my file back again?'

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This has to be one of the funniest things in a long time. I think this guy should have been promoted, not fired. This is a true story from the WordPerfect Helpline, which was transcribed from a recording monitoring the customer care department..............
Needless to say the Help Desk employee was fired; however, he/she is currently suing the WordPerfect organization for 'Termination without Cause.'

Actual dialogue of a former WordPerfect Customer Support employee.
(Now I know why they record these conversations!):

Operator: 'Ridge Hall, computer assistance; may I help you?'
Caller: 'Yes, well, I'm having trouble with WordPerfect ...'
Operator: 'What sort of trouble?'
Caller: 'Well, I was just typing along, and all of a sudden the words went away.'
Operator: 'Went away?'
Caller: 'They disappeared'
Operator: 'Hmm. So what does your screen look like now?'
Caller: 'Nothing.'
Operator: 'Nothing??'
Caller: 'It's blank; it won't accept anything when I type.'
Operator: 'Are you still in WordPerfect, or did you get out?'
Caller: 'How do I tell?'
Operator: 'Can you see the 'C: prompt' on the screen?'
Caller: 'What's a sea-prompt?'
Operator: 'Never mind, can you move your cursor around the screen?'
Caller: 'There isn't any cursor; I told you, it won't accept anything I type..'
Operator: 'Does your monitor have a power indicator?'
Caller: 'What's a monitor?'
Operator: 'It's the thing with the screen on it that looks like a TV.
Does it have a little light that tells you when it's on?'
Caller: 'I don't know.'
Operator: 'Well, then look on the back of the monitor and find where
the power cord goes into it. Can you see that??'
Caller: 'Yes, I think so.'
Opera tor: 'Great. Follow the cord to the plug, and tell me if it's
plugged into the wall..
Caller: 'Yes, it is.'
Operator: 'When you were behind the monitor, did you notice that
there were two cables plugged into the back of it, not just one? '
Caller: 'No.'
Operator: 'Well, there are. I need you to look back there again and
find the other cable.'
Caller: 'Okay, here it is.'
Operator: 'Follow it for me, and tell me if it's plugged securely into
the back of your computer..'
Caller: 'I can't reach.'
Operator: 'OK. Well, can you see if it is?'
Caller: 'No..'
Operator: 'Even if you maybe put your knee on something and lean way over?'
Caller: 'Well, it's not because I don't have the right angle -- it's because it's dark.'
Operator: 'Dark?'
Caller: 'Yes - the office light is off, and the only light I have is
coming in from the window.'
Operator: 'Well, turn on the office light then.'
Caller: 'I can't.'
Operator: 'No? Why not?'
Caller: 'Because there's a power failure.'
Operator: 'A power .... A power failure? Aha. Okay, we've got it
licked now. Do you still have the boxes and manuals and
packing stuff that your computer came in?'
Caller: 'Well, yes, I keep them in the closet..'
Operator: 'Good. Go get them, and unplug your system and pack it
up just like it was when you got it. Then take it back to
the store you bought it from.'
Caller: 'Really? Is it that bad?'
Operator: 'Yes, I'm afraid it is.'
Caller: 'Well, all right then, I suppose. What do I tell them?'
Operator: 'Tell them you're too stupid to own a computer!'

The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills...and Colin Firth

I have gone completely crazy for The Real Housewives of...anywhere really, I love them all.  My name is Karen and I am addicted.  I'll need to attend "Housewives Anonymous" but not until I find out how Taylor is handling her husband's suicide.  And then, of course, Kim is in rehab, poor thing.  And Pandora's wedding is coming up....

The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills is by far my favorite.  These women are really really really rich.  Not pretend rich, like the Real Housewives of New York, but filthy stinking rich like .... a Beverly Hills Housewife. 

First of all is Lisa the English one - her last name is Huffnpuff or something.  She owns Sur Restaurant in Beverly Hills, among others, she has a home that looks like a five star resort (her closet is as big as my house) and I love her tiny dog Giggy - Is  He Adorable!   Last night he wore a Hawaiian shirt.  I always connect with dog lovers.

Adrienne Maloof is my favorite housewife.  I've never heard her say a bad word against any of the other women and she gives her husband grief for not walking the dog.  Walking the Dog!!!!????  They live across the street from Lisa and their property is possibly bigger than Lisa's (I think.  Don't tell Lisa I said that because she might get miffed.)  Adrienne owns a basketball team.  And the Palms the Las Vegas.  And maybe Seattle.

Then there is Taylor, whose husband committed suicide in August.  He looked a little peaky during most of the season to tell you the truth and her lips are like bean bags.  Botox Beauty.  (There is a comment in the Youtube video above from Kim to Taylor at the Dinner Party from Hell - "Why don't you blow up your lips some more"  Don't you love girlfriends?

A lot of time is spent on Kyle but since she's not as rich as Lisa and Adrienne I don't care about her.  No offense.  Except...her niece is Paris Hilton.  And her rehab sister Kim is dating a Bull Mastiff.

Then there is Camille Grammar, Kelsey's ex-wife.  She appears to have made out well in the divorce.

The last girl is Brandi.  Doesn't belong in the group at all, hope she's not around too much longer.

I think I could be really good friends with all of these women... if only it weren't for that pesky restraining order.  Richie and I spent New Year's Eve viewing a Real Housewives marathon - can you see how far to the dark side we've gone?  He murmured the other night that he thought he was becoming a lesbian watching all these shows. 

He loves their shoes too.

Wait until I'm on the Real Housewives of Tampa Bay.  It will center around a trailer park and a bingo hall and track which early bird buffet's are the most popular. 

Oops, I have to go now.  Mob Wives are on and Richie is trying to change the station.

Here's my favorite Colin clip this week.

A Crash in the Night and Richard Armitage

Picture this.  It is the dead of night, you are asleep, vulnerable to be sure but safe in the security of your home. 

A crash awakens you.  You are confused, muddled.  More than usual.  You turn to the person beside you.  Wait, it's the hind end quarters of a dog.  You turn to the person on the other side of the dog beside you.

"What the f....?"

"It was nothing.  Go to sleep," he mumbles sleep drool spilling from his mouth, his hair rumpled, his eyes pressed closed.  "It was probably Darcy."

I look at the dog between us.  Darcy the Dog has a rather odd way of sleeping. She is on her back with her right front leg stretched stiffly in salute.  At times I wonder if we rescued her from a Nazi Youth Camp instead of the Humane Society.  But I Digress

"Darcy's here.  She's beside us,"  Sleep drool spills from my mouth.

"...it was the cat..." he mutters in his sleep

"The cat's been dead for six months."

"...bummer..."

"Richie!  There was a crash in the kitchen!  Hello."  I am nearly fully awake now and my heart is pounding.  I listen.  There is silence.  "We're going to be slaughtered in our bed."

Darcy the Wonder Dog opens one eye and looks at me, then promptly disappears under the covers.

"Richie get up, get up, get up, get up"

"Ok, I'm up already.  What's wrong?"

"Didn't you hear that?  There was a crash in the kitchen."

"Huh."  Richie stumbles from the bed and blinks, recoils from the blinding light as I turn on the lamp.  "Good lord, turn that off.  Please.  Thank you.  Go back to sleep and I'll go see what happened."

"Oh no, not on your life."  I fumble for a flashlight in my drawer.  Nothing.  I run to his side of the bed as he totters into the bathroom to pee.  I look in his nightstand and finally find a flashlight.

You realize by this time whoever it is could have put the house on the market and sold it, we are taking so long. 

"What are you doing up?" he asks,  "and what are you doing with a broken flashlight?"

"Shit.  Well, in the right hands this could be a formidable weapon."

"There were some key words in that sentence."

"You mean, 'in the right hands'?"

"Those would be the words."  I handed him the flashlight.

"Stay here.  I'll go look."

"Not on your life.  You die - I die.  We go down together, no matter what form of vile, horrible fate lies ahead."

"That's really sweet.  Ok.  Put on a robe and some slippers..."

"Richie, I think he's made a roast by now.  Can we just go defend our home?"

He turns to the bed and lifts the covers.  "Darcy, you stay here."  We both agree on this.  The dog must not be harmed.

Anyway, I've drawn this out as long as I could.  It was nothing, no animals were harmed in the making of this post.  An overhead fixture panel decided it was time to commit suicide and jumped to it's death.  There was no one in our home, no terror but what I had created in my mind.  We were safe again to crawl back into bed and reassure Darcy that she would live till morning.

I forget again - just why did we get a dog in the first place?

Happy New Year, y'all!!

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CHRISTMAS SUNDAY NIGHT RAMBLINGS

This and that on Christmas Sunday Night:

Rich and I went to mass today and I was surprised by how few people were there.  Of course this is Florida and most Snowbirds go home for the holiday, then head straight back here sometime around 12:01 a.m. tomorrow morning.  The service was very nice, too long, and he didn't voice the usual irritating complaint about people who go to church only twice a year. 

My favorite priest officiated, have no idea what his name is though, since we go to church only twice a...never mind.  The kids were the best show at mass.  The little girls had their bright red dresses on and the little boys wore plaid shirts and long pants.  We all wore our ugly Christmas sweaters and tried to pretend we were up north for one hour.

Of course that passed the moment you went out into the 80 degree weather.  But the children were cute and now we are off to a friends house for dinner.  Darcy the wonder dog had bacon and eggs for breakfast.  All is well with the world.

Differences between men and women

Of all the thousands of differences that distinguish us from our better halves one of the most startling, to me anyway, is The Three Stooges.  OMG.  Why oh why do men find them to be so incredibly funny?  Richie was laughing his head off the other day and I walk in to see Curly yuk yuking and poking his fingers in his brothers eye.  Oscar Wilde must be so pleased.  Were they even brothers - the Three Stooges I mean.

Another difference I noted yesterday as we watched "Jane Eyre" for the first time on "On Demand" (Just discovered that wonder.  Bridesmaids is next) - during which Richie drifted off to sleep at least twice.  Men's heads are twice the size of women's - did you ever notice that?  It's true. 

The first time I noticed was at the end of Pride and Prejudice.  My God in Heaven Donald Sutherland's head is huge!  Kiera Knightly almost disappears into his nostrils.  Yesterday I saw the same contrast between Michael Fassbender and Mia what's her name who played Jane.  That was a good movie but kind of dull.  I still prefer Jane Austen to the Bronte's.  Go team Austen.

Worst movie I saw this year - THE THREE MUSKETEERS

Best move I saw this year - THE GUARD

Finally, I would like to give my poor brother his wish - Alastair Sims in THE CHRISTMAS CAROL.  He was complaining he couldn't find it anywhere, so here.  Enjoy.

My favorite song for Christmas = "All I want for Christmas is You"

Merry Christmas, Richie!!

Darcy and Fitzwilliam and the Turkey Blog Tour!!!

I love that cover.  It was created by a girl named Karen Horton at Soucebooks and in my opinion it is about the most beautiful cover out there.  But I digress...

So much has happened, and not happened, in the months since Darcy and Fitzwilliam was publishced, February 1, 2011.  We are still not in Walgreen's or K-Mart book stalls; those seem to be reserved for Nora Roberts and Debbie Macomber and that Sparks guy.  I look every day and my heart skips a beat when I see green - but it's never Darcy and Fitzwilliam.  I tried in the beginning to push the stores into selling my book but evidently they have no say so about what books are selected.  There is a company the chains hire to go to the publishers and select the ones they want (that translates into those that sell).  Rats. 

In the meantime I am stuffing bookmarks into random books at Walmart (oh yes, I have no pride left whatsoever), I have a display of my one newspaper interview atop a garbage can at the Subway sandwich shop where Richie and I eat everyday that offers my book marks too, then there are blog hops, blog groups, twitter groups, etc.  It has seemed endless, exhausting, and left me no time to write so evenually I had to back away from some of it and start to write again.

And it worked!  Now I have  another book started - Darcy and Fitzwilliam - Fatherhood! It is still in very rough draft form and I have little to no confidence in myself.  I dread the thought of the second book not being accepted by my Publisher (they've been turning down P&P sequels lately) and then, if by some miracle it does get published, I would have to face another horror of a month as I did in February 2011,waiting and watching for reviews, tearing my hair out because of the bad ones and jumping for joy at the good ones. 

It is a roller coaster ride I swore I'd never take again, but if I am very very lucky, maybe I will.

Here is an excerpt from the original, my most favorite book in the whole world, which should be made into a movie with Brendan Gleeson or Martin Clunes as Fitzswilliam and Colin Firth and/or Matthew Macfadyen as the beaver.

Darcy and Fitzwilliam

Another shout out came from a group of young Corinthians racing by in their phaetons. “Whoo! Hoo! Well done, Colonel!” “Capital fellow!” “Come have a drink with us!!” He smiled vaguely then winced as one phaeton slid sideways on the ice, almost toppling itself and nearly injuring the precious horses. Goddamn stupid idiots, he thought as he smiled and waved. They righted themselves soon enough and laughed uproariously at their own daring.

The wind was kicking up more now, and it was biting cold. Bloody hell, did Darcy move his goddamn house? I don’t remember it being this far of a walk. He should not have told his batman to go home and get warm so that he could continue alone and think. Thinking is highly overrated he decided as he stomped his feet while awaiting traffic. I’m going to freeze my fucking balls off if I don’t… “Ladies…” Smiling warmly, he bowed and tipped his hat, flirting outrageously with the three giggling lovelies who slowed their pace as they walked by, whispering and staring back at him as they did. His spirits rose considerably when they spun around to follow him.

There definitely was an upside to fame.

The sad truth was that the one thing he really would have wanted to do with his life was the one thing that he could not. In his heart of hearts, Fitzwilliam wanted nothing more than to be a simple country squire. He wanted to work the soil, chop trees, and visit his tenants. He wanted to read and actually understand cattle and crop reports, or bicker over terms with tradesmen. He wanted a quiet, neat little home and the chance to doze off in a chair in his own garden, after he’d had a good pipe and glass of port. He wanted to smell the daisies handed to him by an adorable little moppet daughter, and to teach a son to ride a pony and how to fish. He wanted an innocent, demure, quiet, and biddable heiress wife, a shy lady who would be a model of English propriety by day and a whore for him in his bedroom by night. He sighed and grunted at his own foolishness.

After all, he had no money of his own.

He was a well-bred English second son.

He also was thirty-two years old and had spent the first blush of his young manhood sitting in mud and worried about getting enough food for his troops. Enough food and enough blankets, bullets, boots, horses, etc. Scavenging and stealing had occupied much of any time not spent in battle or being blind drunk, and the years had just slipped away. To his mind, he was too old now to start afresh, had no home of his own and no income. Of course, he could ask his father for any amount of money his heart desired, but he could not and would not take advantage of a man he so respected. He was back to wondering what to do with the remainder of his life. Most second and third sons could be assured of benevolence from the firstborn who inherited all; however, once his father was gone, he was certain Regis would cut him off without a farthing. They hated the sight of each other.

He truly should plan for the future, but not today. Well, I have finally struck bottom, he suddenly realized. I am wandering the streets, destitute, lost and homeless, and waxing maudlin. I’ll be sobbing on some poor bastard’s neck soon, drunk as a lord. If I am very lucky, perhaps Darcy will adopt me.

A gentleman slapped him on the shoulder. “Good show! Good show!” the man exclaimed then planted himself squarely in Fitzwilliam’s path. “I say, Colonel, may I call you Dick? Excellent! My, you’re a tall one, aren’t you? How’s the weather up there, what? Ha! Ha! Dick, did you happen to know my cousin? Major Billy Hench? Average height, light hair. Oh, surely you knew him. He was at Waterloo, also, and made quite a show for himself there.”

Fitzwilliam stared down at the diminutive man, expecting a little more information, and when it wasn’t forthcoming, he decided he would speed things up a bit.

“Excuse me, sir. Was your cousin also with the Coldstream Guards?”

“No, he was with the 72nd. To tell the truth, he did not actually see much action in the battle, per se, but he did attend the Duke of Richmond’s rout the night before. Surely you were there yourself! No? Are you certain? But my dear Dick, you must be mistaken. It was the place to be, I am told! It’s quite a humorous story, actually; he became frightfully drunk and nearly missed the whole fracas. Got in the game rather late in the day, I’m afraid. Oh, I am certain you must have met him—he wore a red uniform jacket with black boots.”

Oh my God, some people should just be drowned at birth. Fitzwilliam smiled down politely at the eager gentleman. “I don’t recall meeting him, sir, but I am certain I heard about his bravery. If you will excuse me, I must be going. I am late for an important meeting. Good afternoon.” Thank God this bloody war is behind me.

Truth be told, though, the war years were not completely behind Fitzwilliam, whether he acknowledged it or not. Unknown to his friends and even to some of his family, Fitzwilliam had been experiencing the aftermaths of war—battle fatigue and its accompanying nightmares, flashbacks, and panic seizures.

The more these symptoms plagued him, the deeper he fell into his old cycle from the years before—drinking, women, and gambling—until he himself was becoming aware of the adverse effect it was having on his physical, as well as mental, health.

The tide turned upon one comment from his beloved aunt Catherine. “Character is revealed in the dark, Richard.”

Damn old bat.

The remark had struck home. He knew his dark had become more and more appalling, possessing moments he would be loath to have exposed to the world, behavior of which he had become deeply ashamed.

One day he would open up to Darcy. He knew that a day would come eventually, probably during a drunken weekend and after several bottles of whiskey, and maybe then he could begin to confront the demons that tormented him.

He wanted so to have better life
.

He wanted so to be a better man.

 YOUR NEXT STOP ON THE BLOG TOUR IS

MY OTHER BLOG:

The League of British Artists

LEAVE A COMMENT AT

THE LEAGUE OF BRITISH ARTISTS

DURING THE BLOG TOUR WEEK TO BE ELIGIBLE TO WIN A COPY OF MY BOOK,
DARCY AND FITZWILLIAM

Dogs and Cats

The Following was found posted - very low - on a certain refrigerator door...

Dear Dogs and Cats (you know who you are):  The dishes on the floor with the paw prints are yours and contain your food, such as it is.  The other dishes are ours and contain our food.  Placing a paw print in the middle of my plate does not mean that it is suddenly, now, your food, nor do we find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest. 

The stairway is not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack.  Racing us to the top of the stairs is not the object.  Tripping us doesn't help because we fall faster than you can run.  We have had years of practice.

We cannot buy anything bigger than a king sized bed.  We are very sorry about this.  Do not think we will continue sleeping pressed into a corner of the mattress, or on the couch, to ensure your comfort.  Dogs and cats can actually curl up into a ball when they sleep.  It is also not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other, stretched out to the fullest extent possible.  

We also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out on the other end to maximize the space that you are taking up, is nothing short of sarcasm.

For the last time, there is no secret exit from the bathroom!  My goodness!  We cannot emphasize this enough.  If, by some miracle, We beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, try to turn the knob or get your paw under the edge in an attempt to open the door.  We must exit through the same door we entered. 

Also, we have been using the bathroom for years - canine/feline attendance is not required.

The proper order for kissing is this:  Kiss us first, then go smell the other dog or cat's bottom.  

Again, we cannot empahsize this enough.

Finally, in fairness, dearest pets, we have posted the following message on the front door:

TO ALL NON-PET OWNERS WHO VISIT AND COMPLAIN

(1) They live here...you do not.

(2) If you do not want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture.  That's why it is referred to as "fur"-niture.

(3) We like our pets a lot better than we like most people.

(4) To you, they are animals.  To us, they are the only children we will ever have, adopted sons/daughters who are short, hairy, walk on all fours and don't speak clearly. 

Remember, dogs and cats are better than kids because they:

(a) eat less,

(b) don't ask for money all the time,

(c) are easier to train,

(d) normally come when called,

(e) never ask to drive the car,

(f) don't hang out with drug-using people,

(g) don't smoke or drink,

(h) don't want to wear your clothes,

(i) don't have to buy the latest fashions,

(j) don't need a gazillion dollars for college

and, best of all,

(k) if they get pregnant, you can sell their children

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