A Plethora...Plethora...of Things to Mention

Last night my husband and I went to a housewarming party for people I later learned had lived in that house for over a year. I don't know about you, but that seems a little belated to obligate people to buy housewarming gifts. Oh well, it's ok. They're really nice and so I didn't feel bitter about it. Plus, it gave me an opportunity to force Apples to Apples (the best game on the planet) on them, as that was our housewarming gift to them. Additionally, they gave us an all-access house tour, which I am always up for.

Before the party we also went to a wine store in town to buy a bottle for the couple as well as pick something up for ourselves. When we entered, a worker approached us and asked if we needed any help. Being the wine ignoramuses we are, we gladly accepted his assistance. He spent several minutes talking to us about the ins and outs of wines, which ones have certain kinds of flavors, etc. Trying to keep on my best (read: least ass-like) behavior because we were in a classy wine store, I complimented the man on his knowledge and asked him if the store ever offers little classes. He said no, but that he himself taught a wine class at the local community college. He talked about it for a minute, giving me way too much information about something I mostly asked about just to be nice. Here's where it got funny, though. The man told us that he often takes expensive wines from his own collection to the class for his students to taste. What a noble soul, I thought as I told him that was mighty generous of him. His response, as he leaned in close as if we were sharing an intimate secret: "I just need an excuse to drink this shit!"

Well, of course! What wine connoisseur doesn't need an excuse to drink "this shit"? A classhole. A classhole, indeed. Don't think for a second that I won't be going back to he wine store to get more wisdom from this man. That, however, will be another blog entry for another day.

Changing gears now....

In my last post I promised an update on my ongoing holy war with Sallie Mae. You'll remember from the old blog that they royally screwed me six ways to Sunday and then blamed me for it like only a truly soul-sucking evil corporation can do. Well, I called them back and this time spoke to "Jack" (riiiight), who told me he was sorry "Chris" was such an a-hole. "Jack" told me that I was not sent to collections despite receiving an e-mail telling me I was. He also said my account was not considered far enough past due for them to report it to my credit score. So while they are still screwing me on the loan by charging me late fees and upping my interest rate (something that will end up costing me about $600 more by the end of my loan repayment period for something that wasn't even a little bit my fault), they're not ruining my future by destroying my credit. Now, of course we all know I'll check my credit score a month from now and it will be on there anyway, and then the rage will cause me to have an aneurysm and die. But at least I can live for one more month in relative peace (aside from proooobably having to rough up our old landlord to get him to return our security deposit, but that is also another post for another day).

Finally, I would like to comment on Philadephia cream cheese commercials. They've been airing a new ad campaign for their new "same great taste but less fat" stuff, and I'm just wondering if anyone else finds it disturbing that this company's TV ads use angels to get the point across that the cream cheese tastes like heaven. This is the thought process I go through whenever I see it: angels = dead people...dead people hocking cream cheese. Dead people = my grandpa who died 10 years ago. Then I picture my decomposing grandfather zombie-hobbling into my house with a tub of 1/3 less fat cream cheese trying to get me to eat it.

The scenario:
"Why are you screaming? It's grandpa! Come eat some cream cheese with me! Where are you running off to? I came back from the dead for you! It's good cream cheese; try it! Ohhhhhh my arm fell off."

So my point is that angels = dead people = my dead grandpa = I will never eat that cream cheese.