If bank tellers qualify as a race, then I’m a racist.

The people they stock they AmSouth bank with here in Chattanooga are equally incompetent and rude. Why just yesterday…You see, we rarely get paid in cash here at the office, but have a moderately stocked cash box for when such an occasion does arise. I have a procedure for depositing that money in the bank that allows me to keep the cash box dollar amounts unchanged. I have been doing deposits this way for a long, long time. But every so often, a teller that isn’t used to me shows up. I often explain my procedure to her before she starts entering the deposit, and whenever I do they just roll their eyes and me and say they know how to do their job, etc blah etc. So I quit telling them how to do their job. Guess what happens. Go ahead, guess. Yup, they end up having to redo the deposit because they did it wrong. Which takes me back to yesterday. This teller (who has waited on me probably 50 times before and is a complete and utter bitch) forgot to enter the cash amount correctly. Instead of saying “shoot” and fixing it, she decides the best way to make herself look good and feel better about herself is to give me a lecture about how they do things.

Teller – “There is more money here than you have written on the deposit slip.”
Me – “Yes. I know”
Teller – “Why?”
me – “I want change back.”
Teller – “You want change back? We don’t normally do that.”
Me – “Really? You don’t give change back. This is a bank, right?”
Teller – “Well, you need to tell me before I start entering it.”
Me – “I see. None of the other tellers here have a problem with it.”
Teller – “Well, we have a new computer system.”

OK, here is the another problem I have. Anytime there is a problem at the bank, it is always due to a “new computer system” that changes how they do things. If that were really true, it would mean that AmSouth changes their system approximately 40-50 times a year. I sincerely doubt that. And you know? Maybe that BS about the computer system flies with most people. But you would think that the tellers would be bright enough to not try and feed that line to a guy wearing a shirt with our computer company logo on it that is handing them a deposit slip with the name of our computer company on it. You would think wrong.

Me – “Yeah. I’m sure they have radically redesigned the procedure for entering a deposit.”
Teller – Huffs and puffs. “I’ll fix it.”
Me – *thinking to myself* “Well, you screwed it up. I guess it is fair that you fix it.”
Teller – “Make sure you tell me next time.”
Me – “I’ll try to remember. Make sure you try and actually read the deposit slip so you only have to enter it once next time. Just in case I forget to warn you.”

If only it were an isolated incident, or just that one teller. But it isn’t. I probably have a run-in with a teller once or twice a month. And it doesn’t matter which of the four different branches I try. There is always some biddie who is power tripping in her charming little cube, surrounded with all her cutesy baskets and pictures and candles, that is determined to do everything her way. Never mind that I am the customer, and after nearly ten years of this crap probably know their system as well or better than they do. Well, until they get a new computer system anyway. Which should be any minute now…

Some mornings it seems like the phone just will not quit ringing. It probably has more to do with the fact that I’m trying to pound out a bunch of work of my own, and don’t have the time and / or patience to deal with the idiots that are barely smart enough to operate a telephone. Here is an example conversation that should explain why a ringing phone equals irritation for me:

(For our purposes, I will refer to my co-worker as XX)
Me: Can I help you?
Caller: I need to talk to XX?
Me: I’m sorry, XX is out on another job right now, would you like to leave him a voice mail?
Caller: Well, my printer doesn’t work, and my boss told me to call XX.
Me: I’m sorry, XX is out on another job right now, would you like to leave him a voice mail?
Caller: Hmm, my boss said I should call XX…
Me: I’m sorry, XX is out on another job right now, would you like to leave him a voice mail?
Caller: Is he out on another job right now?
Me: Yes I’m afraid so. Would you like to leave him a voice mail?
Caller: I don’t think so. My printer isn’t working.
Me: If you want to leave a message, I’m sure he will call you as soon as he gets back in the office.
Caller: Oh, OK. Yeah, let me leave a message then.

I get this all day long. Geniuses, every last one of them.

Oh jeez, as I sit and type this, my stupid phone is ringing again. When the hell is lunch so I can get out of here?

*update*
Someone just called and asked if we bought used comptruters. I’m not kidding. Comptruters.

I had to take the car in for an emissions test this afternoon. This is a new procedure in Chattanooga, introduced within the last year, so it was my first time. I was hoping they would be gentle.

This was the smoothest and most painless interaction that I have ever had with either the State or Local government. They have three testing centers in the greater Chattanooga area (as opposed to the ONE driver’s license and testing office) with several garages. They had two lanes open today, with about five cars waiting in each line. The smartest thing they do is only take cash. Screw those housewives that want to spend 15 minutes getting out the checkbook and another 10 writing it down. Straight cash, homey. I spent maybe 10 minutes waiting to enter the garage, about 2 minutes for the test, then got my printout and drove off. Drove off amazed.

I fully expected this exercise to take somewhere between an hour and a week. Instead, it took about 25 minutes including the drive over and back. Someone needs to promote whoever was in charge of setting these test centers up, and immediately give him full authority over the rest of the city government. Hell, let him run for President. After this stunning experience, I’d vote for him.

I received an email from a friend earlier this week, and she nonchalantly mentioned that she had just finished reading eight books in ten days. This filled me with shame and then a little more shame and a bit of regret. So starting this week I have tried to change up my life a bit in order to re-introduce the concept of reading a book every once in a while into it. So far, so good as I polished off my half-read-for-two-months copy of “Fargo Rock City” by Chuck Klosterman.

Taken from the summary on the back cover, the book is “Chuck Klosterman’s classic memoir of growing up as a shameless metalhead in Wyndmere, North Dakota (population: 498). With a voice like Ace Frehley’s guitar, Klosterman hacks his way through hair-band history, beginning with that fateful day in 1983 when his older brother brought home Mötley Crüe’s Shout at the Devil.”

In other words, it speaks to me. I can relate to the idea of living in a small town during that same time frame. I can relate to his sentiment that the music provided a sort of escape. For most, perhaps the book would be a little “inside baseball”, I don’t know. I’m sure that it doesn’t hurt to have the background in this type of music that I have. But for me and others of my ilk, it reads almost like a biography. Oh, and it is seriously funny. I was forced to stifle my laughter more than once while reading this book in public. I also failed to stifle it more than once. For example, in a chapter dealing with Judas Priest’s Stained Class (the one they got sued over because a couple of kids tried and / or succeeded in blowing their heads off) he has the following to say:

In 1985, I listened to Stained Class at a friend’s house, and that didn’t even convince me to buy the goddamn record.

Simple words, but also a simple truth. And morbidly hilarious. Now my next goal is to figure out if I really like Klosterman’s writing, or if I just liked this subject matter. Off to find a copy of “Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs”…

This is a weird subject, but I need some help. I’m looking for a cheap-ish pen to pair with my Moleskine notebook. I love my little notebook and refuse to go anywhere without it. The fact that it stays in the pocket of my messenger bag which also goes everywhere with me makes sure of that. (An aside–though I like my messenger bag fairly well and it was only $20, I think I have finally found the holy grail of gadget bags, the XS Drift by RadTech. I NEED it.) It is amazing how much I use paper and pen even though I’m a techie guy for the most part. Thoughts and ideas pop into my head and pop right back out, so it is necessary to get them saved someplace before they are gone forever. And sometimes there is just no quicker way to transfer those thoughts than to do it the old fashioned way.

Right now I’m using a cheapie giveaway pen and it is a struggle to write with sometimes. I’d like a one-piece pen (no cap) with a retractable point and a clip. Gel ink maybe? And a fine point. Any suggestions?

Rev. Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr.

I was not aware of this spectacular jackass until I read this story in CNN.com about how he and his followers are staging protests at military funerals. Why are they protesting you ask? The article claims that:

Phelps believes American deaths in Iraq are divine punishment for a country that he says harbors homosexuals. His protesters carry signs thanking God for so-called IEDs — explosives that are a major killer of soldiers in Iraq.

Outstanding. That is just wonderful. Let us see if we can follow this line of thinking, shall we? OK, I’m a jackass from Kansas who hates gay people. I think there is something in the bible about homosexuality or something. OK, now we are getting somewhere. What else, what else…Oh yeah, god is all vengeful and stuff. So if he hates homosexuality as much as I do, then he must be punishing this country for having some gay people in it. And how does he punish the nation? Well, by causing the deaths of a bunch of people who aren’t gay in a totally unrelated circumstance. Ah yes, everything is falling into place. And how do we best get our message across? By protesting and upsetting a grieving family. Brilliant!

Ouch. That hurt my brain to even pretend to think like this idiot. Speaking of idiots, here is what his daughter has to say about the funeral protests:

“The scriptures are crystal clear that when God sets out to punish a nation, it is with the sword. An IED is just a broken-up sword,” Phelps-Roper said. “Since that is his weapon of choice, our forum of choice has got to be a dead soldier’s funeral.”

That makes sense.

If anyone happens to run into Rev. Phelps anytime soon, please feel free to cram a IED up his general rectal area for me.

Hopefully the Flickr pictures were enough to whet your appetite for a moderately boring recap of the weekend.

Friday:
I left work about noon (much thanks to Bossman for letting me out early) and hit the road. 357 miles later, I hit Newport, KY and pulled into the Travelodge parking lot. There was a nice big sign for the motel as I crossed the bridge into Newport, and there was a fairly new Aquarium and shopping area right across the street so I was hopeful. The lady at the front desk was quite nice, so I was still hopeful as I made my way to the room. Then I opened the door. Not so good. It was a non-smoking room, but it reeked of smoke and I later found ash on the bathroom floor, like the maid had been smoking in there or something while cleaning the shower. The pictures don’t really do it justice. Wallpaper was peeling, the thermostat came from a museum (and was so convoluted, that they included instructions mounted to the wall next to it), electrical plugs weren’t screwed in, etc. Oh well, I had prepaid on Travelocity, so it was too late to change now. And for all it’s faults, the Travelodge is in a really convenient location. So be it. I called my boy Knee to check on his progress, and he had barely gotten started. So I had about 4 hours to myself to explore. I trucked down Monmouth Street looking for some dinner, and to see what was there. Stopped at a joint called La Mexicana that was chosen at random. Turned out to be nice authentic Mexican fare, with a crazed waitress / hostess / cashier basically running the joint by herself.

I settled on a couple of quesadillas, thinking that I could sample a couple of different things, eat 1/2 and then take the rest for Knee to eat on arrival. Finished that meal, then took a couple mile walk around the area. Very strange place, lots of old kinda scary looking stores next to bright new remodeled shops. Lots of liquor stores. White Castle on a weird side street. More liquor stores. And then the aquarium surrounded by higher end chain restaurants and valet parking. And a mall. Strange. Anyway, I explored for a while, then waited back at the Travelodge. Knee arrived about 10:45pm and we trundled off. Even after the little Mexican food snack, we were both kind of hungry so we went out looking for grub. Unfortunately, most everything had stopped serving food. We settled for a drink at the Captain’s Cove (the only bar in the area that wasn’t labeled as an Irish Pub, even though all of those “pubs” were really just a bar with an Irish Pub sign outside if that makes any sense) then got a tip from the bartender that the Pepper Pod diner was open all night. After a quick bite, we called it a night about 2am. I slept about 2 hours, as the bed was as uncomfortable as it was icky. Oh, and then the phone rang at about 5:30am with a wrong number. Joy. I barely dozed after that, so I finally gave up at about 7:30 after getting a total of maybe 2 or 3 hours of sleep.

Saturday:
After giving up on sleep, I got up and peeked out the window to see snow everywhere. There had been none when we went to bed 5 hours or so ago, so I was a bit surprised. It was coming down pretty good too. So I threw on my coat and slipped out to watch it come down and take a few pictures. Came back inside to brave the free Travelodge breakfast. Again, not so good. There was a coffeepot with no coffee, a juice dispenser with hardly any juice, a toaster, and a bin with a couple bagels donuts and slices of bread. Nice. Sat with a cup of coffee (fetched from the front desk where the pot wasn’t empty) and read my book for a while to let Knee get a little sleep. Finally, we both got up and around and headed for downtown Newport in search of some good coffee.

Mammoth Coffee was one of the few places that I knew about going into the trip, as I had done a little research beforehand to make sure we could find good coffee. I wasn’t disappointed, as my Cafe au Lait was absolutely delicious. Cool little place I recommend if you ever find yourself in Newport. After coffee, we set back to get the car and head for downtown and some brunch. Went across the bridge into Cincinnati proper and just kind of drove around until we saw something interesting. This sigh peaked my curiosity:

Yep, that is Breakfast, Lunch and Thai. We can’t pass that up, right? So we parked and went inside. Probably the best decision of the weekend as the food was delicious. It looked like every other diner you have ever been in, except for the Thai decorations on the wall and the rice cookers on the counter.

I got a red curry chicken stir fry dish that was nice and spicy, and Knee opted for an omelet and pancakes. Of course we passed it around and had a little bit of everything. After that experience, we wandered around downtown for a couple of hours looking at the sights. We couldn’t figure out why there were huge groups of kids everywhere though. It was a weekend, so it couldn’t be a school trip, right? It was very perplexing. Until we drove by the Cinergy Center.

Ah. I looked around for Kirk Franklin, but didn’t see him. After our downtown tour, we drove back to Newport and made our trip to the Hofbrauhaus. We definitely visited at the right time of year, because the seasonal brew was really something to behold:

An absolutely delicious Doppelback with 8% APV. That is a hard-hitter my friend, let me tell you. Tasty too. We got out of there about the time the dinner rush had started, and the line was out the door. Crazy. We felt very good about our decision to make a mid-afternoon visit. Back at the hotel, we checked in with a buddy that lives in nearby Covington and made plans to head over there to see him. Took a bit of a nap, then went out to find his place. That took some doing as we got bad directions (19th St. my friend, NOT Highland) and got a bit twisted around but we finally made our way there. Visited for a while, until we realized that it was 9pm and we hadn’t eaten since Thai brunch. Got directions to an Italian place (don’t remember the name) and ate a nice dinner. By then we were both pretty bushed and just went back to the Travelodge to watch Showtime and get some sleep. Watched Saw which turned out to be a perfectly acceptable Saturday night movie, then turned in for some much needed sleep.

Sunday:
Not too much happened Sunday. Got up and went to Mammoth for another coffee. Except they were closed. Since they had no hours posted anywhere, it was kind of hard to know when they might or might not be open. Ah well, it is all a part of the “flying blind” weekend I guess. We ended up settling for the Mokka cafe and had some breakfast instead. We had originally planed to have a coffee, go into Cincy for Indian buffet, and then head for home. But since the coffee didn’t work out and we ended up at a restaurant, we decided to just eat then and get an earlier jump on the 5 1/2 hour (for me anyway) drive. Checked out of the Travelodge, and hit the road. I did keep my camera handy as I was driving so that I was able to catch a picture of Kentucky’s greatest landmark:

The trip was very therapeutic, and I’m feeling a lot less like going on a giant city-wide murder spree. It also served as a bit of a practice run for Toronto (more on this at a later date), so valuable experience was gained. Like find a hotel that is NOT a Travelodge.

I’m back safe and mostly sound from the weekend trip to Cincinnati. A more detailed recap is in the offing, but for now, feel free to check out the pictures on Flickr.

I’m out errand running and head over to the bank to make the deposit. I have turned into the parking lot, and there is an intersection. My direction does not have a stop sign. The cross street does. There is a car sitting in front of me at this intersection at a complete stop. Before I get right up behind them and push, they figure out that they can go. I do not slow down and follow them through the turn. The idiot sitting to the right honked at me (would it surprise you if I told you that idiot was driving an SUV?) He was angry at me for having the ability to follow traffic laws. And nothing pisses off a Tennessee driver more than someone who knows the hell how to drive. To this driver, I offer the following explanation / suggestion. The big red octagonal sign? That’s a stop sign. Stop sign means stop. If other traffic doesn’t have a stop sign, they don’t. Seems simple, huh? Now see that giant cement column over there? Speed up to about 80mph and hit it straight on. That will solve all of your (and my) driving issues.

I am not taking a stand of any sort of issue with regards to the Cheney hunting accident. I don’t see any reason to go into kooky crazy politics mode over it. But I did find the following photo (originally seen here) quite amusing:

I wish Keith Olberman did a show about anything but the news, as I can hardly stand to watch it more than once a week or so. It is a shame because he puts on one hell of an entertaining show.

Busy today, no time for anger.

Coming this weekend–Angry B & Knee take on Cincinnati. Assuming I can find an open wifi spot, I will try and chronicle our adventures for your amusement.

A small update to the “scam to pocket Red Cross hurricane relief funds” story.

the Justice Department said Monday that federal prosecutors have filed fraud, theft and other charges against 212 people accused of scams related to Gulf Coast hurricanes. Forty people have pleaded guilty so far, the latest report by the Hurricane Katrina Fraud Task Force said. Many defendants were accused of trying to obtain emergency aid, typically a $2,000 debit card, issued to hurricane victims by FEMA and the American Red Cross.

Frankly, I’m surprised that only 212 were accused. It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if that number ended up being a lot higher, as my faith in the inherent goodness of the human race is at an all-time low. And my thoughts about those people still stand.

Someone is trying to tell me something. Today’s fortune cookie says:

Well, it happened a day too early but we got our snow.

Back home in Michigan, we call that a light dusting. In Chattanooga we take what we can get.

It is currently 36 and rainy, which just flat out sucks. Only a few degrees and we could be covered in a blanket of snow. Stupid weather. Granted I’d be out of luck if i needed either bread or milk, but that is a price I’m willing to pay. What I really want is for it to snow on a Monday, because in Tennessee we get snow days off of work. And I need a day off work. Or a week. Or forever.

C’mon Jack Frost, you lazy piece of garbage! I dare you to make it snow on Monday. Double DOG dare you.

Sometime last year, I complained about the stupid local newspaper and their “Star Watch” celebrity rag that they chuck into my lawn once a month or week or whatever it is. So I (and many of my fellow Chattanoogans) already hate the newspaper and the people that litter my lawn with this crap.

I was driving around running some errands for work yesterday afternoon, and was on my way back when a fine Ford Focus pulled out in front of me. I had my normal reaction of not touching the brakes until the last possible minute, which typically will make the person in front of me speed up when they see me hurtling toward them. This time it had no effect, and as I observed him for a while it was easy to see why. This fine gentleman was stuffing his crappy newspapers into the crappy green bags they put them in. Weaving all over the road, sliding into the lanes next to him, pulling out in front of people (like me dammit), paying little or no attention to actually driving, and just generally being a complete and utter road hazard.

I just called the Chattanooga Times Press to complain about both their crappy newspaper and their crappy newspaper delivery idiots. I somehow managed to do this without raising my voice, although i did suggest that they figure out who that driver was and fire him or push him off a cliff or something. I’m assuming that it will do absolutely no good and I will have to call again. If and when that happens, it is certainly within the realm of reasonability that there will be some yelling.

OK, now I can fast forward through the rest of this thing.

• Paul McCartney. New song. Don’t care. Helter Skelter, that’s more like it.
• BEP & JLH. It’s not fair to Fergie to make her stand next to JLH. Oranges and apples indeed.
• Something happened and I missed about 10 minutes. Back just in time for Keith Urban. Next…
• Faith Hill in shiny pants. Next…
• They have a category for Rap / Sung collaboration. O…K… Next…
• Dave Chappelle. He doesn’t look crazy. Another shot of the crowd, Tom Hanks is sporting a Vincent Vega / Mullet haircut. It is not working for him. Here comes a big mess attempting to honor Sly & the Family Stone. It’s not really working. The Earth Wind & Fire tribute was better last year.
• Linkin Park and Jay-Z mashup. They have been milking this cow for about 7 years (or so it seems.) And here is Paul McCartney again. Because, why not I guess. See? This is what I’m talking about. Why can’t McCartney just sing “Yesterday” and have them be done with it?
• Springsteen. Next…
• Hey! It’s Destiny’s Child pretending that they get along. Song of the year. I don’t really like any of them. Next…
• Kanye and Jamie Foxx with dueling marching bands. This is more like it! I’m digging this. Broke Phi Broke. This is brilliant! Oh crap. See? AGAIN. Now they have to screw it up by doing two songs. The eight bars of “Touch the Sky” were completely superfluous.
• Sheryl Crow’s chest looks like it belongs to the Crypt Keeper. Perhaps a crewneck should be on order for next year’s ceremony. I’m feeling physically ill.
• Herbie Hancock with Christina Aguilera, this should actually be good. Herbie is the man.
• YEAAHHHHHH BOOOYYYYYYYY! Chuck D! And Common and Fiona Apple (??). I wish Chuck would just grab that mic and start spittin’.
• Give it to ‘em Queen! Dap for Richard Pryor. OK, apparently they give out about 13,000 of these lifetime achievement awards every year. No disrespect toward Pryor, but they have been giving these things out ever 10 minutes tonight.
• This show wouldn’t be 3 1/2 hours long if it didn’t have 2 1/2 hours of commercials during it.
• U2 wins the big one. Now I know I’m going to be physically ill.

That’s all I can stand.

We shall see:

• Gorillaz are up with “Feel Good Inc.” Awesome. De La Soul in the house too! Uh oh, here comes Madge…why do I feel like that is going to be it for our animated heroes. Because it is. Madge exits stage left and she is the center of attention. OK, this brings me to a bit of a music award show rant. It has been like this for several years now, but it still kind of bugs me. The “part of one song” that poorly transitions into “part of another song” trend. Why not just do one big performance of one song instead of trying to cram a couple of songs that don’t really fit together. Just off the top of my head, how awesome would it have been if Madonna and the Gorillaz had played a cover of “When Doves Cry” or something like that?
• I think Steve Wonder just undressed Alica Keys with his eyes. I’m cool with this bit, as Stevie has always been able to get a laugh out this sort of thing. I remember an old SNL bit with him playing tennis for example. But it seems like someone is urging him to do really strange things of late. At Live Aid, he was actually trying to dance with a couple of ho’s. Choreographed dancing. It’s a little late in the game for Stevie to be doing that kind of nonsense. It is just not necessary.
• Aww, Kelly Clarkson is crying. She cleans up pretty good. Oh god, and then they cut to Nicole “I can’t emote” Kidman sitting in the audience. Or it may be a wooden stand in. Not like we can tell the difference anymore.
• Go to hell Coldplay, I’m bored already, and you haven’t even started playing. I wish Oasis were here to kick the crap out of these dull gits.
• Sugarland. I like to see kinda local artist Jennifer Nettles do well, but the put-on extra southern accent is annoying. BTW, doesn’t country music have it’s own show so that we don’t have to sit through this crap category?
• I don’t think I can keep this up. 20 minutes until Lost starts…
• Oh boy. U2. Shouldn’t Bono be out saving babies from burning buildings and blaming the bloody tyrannical western governments for starting the fire? Asshole. And here is the aforementioned clunky transition to another of their crappy songs. With special guest Mary J. Blige. This makes sense.
• Heehee. David Bowie wins the lifetime achievement award, but isn’t even there. Awesome!
• C’mon Common…but of course it’s Kanye. The Common CD is 100x better than Kanye’s. Proof that he should stay behind the soundboard and not be on the mic.
• Kelly Clarkson again. They must be trying to steal all the American Idol viewers away from FOX.
• How is X&Y a rock album? Doesn’t it have to, you know, ROCK to be considered? Where the hell is The Darkness dammit? U2 wins. Let’s see what important things Bono has to say: something about a circus and clowns and elephants. I’m sure it was deep. Blah. Screw it, I’m going to let the rest of this crap queue up on the PVR while I watch Lost.

I’m planning on watching as much of the Grammy’s as I can stand tonight, and what I can watch I’m planning on blogging. So check back either tonight and tomorrow to hear me bitch about crappy music.

I’m hoping this Madonna / Gorillaz thing will actually be good, and not just another over-hyped dud. Anything is possible I guess…

From an AP story:

Bryan Adams is writing a new album, but of the 30 songs he’s already come up with, he loves just three.

“There’s a saying, ‘It’s easy to write songs, but very difficult to write great songs.’ I’m going through that right now,” Adams told reporters Friday while on his fourth tour to India.

The jokes pretty much write themselves from this point on.