grrgoyl

I received a very threatening letter from AOL yesterday, titled "LAST CHANCE to avoid termination of your AOL account!" It informed me in no uncertain terms that, despite several reminders, I haven't updated my payment information so my account WILL be terminated. Dire words indeed, if I hadn't cancelled my account already 5 months ago to the day. Furthermore, this was my last chance to keep my screen name, "IRUVINES," and.....wait, what? Yes. There are no less than 4 threats throughout the letter that I would be losing my screen name IRUVINES. I'd certainly be quaking in my boots if I were this IRUVINES person. I hope they don't cancel the real IRUVINES' account because of my obstinate refusal to pay them. They actually say accusingly, "Your time has run out." Like I'm on the lam, I've been skating by using AOL for free all this time, but the jig is finally up. I never should have run from you, Javert. I'm sure AOL has some way to monitor online activity. I'm equally sure my AOL mailbox is full of about 20,000 spam letters by now. Take the hint, AOL. GOD. [/Napoleon Dynamite]

(The funniest thing is, as if the letter itself isn't clear enough, they add a P.S. Usually a P.S. is used for additional information, like an afterthought you forgot to include in the letter. But this P.S. just restates everything said in the letter much more succinctly. In the world of English Lit papers (take it from me, I've written my share), this would be a summarizing conclusion paragraph, not a P.S. I really have to question your letter-writing skills, Pat Carter from Member Services.)

Thoroughly unrelated, I've never understood the private fantasies of some people to be rock stars, until now. Since seeing the ease with which Tery takes the karaoke stage and sings her heart out to thunderous applause, I've yearned to have those kinds of guts. Sitting at my computer, downloading a likely play list (an odd collection including Ricky Martin, "No Myth," "Jane's Gettin' Serious," "Sex and Candy," and finally, "Smooth" by Rob Thomas), with the music blaring in my headphones I can picture it perfectly: On the stage, singing and dancing wantonly but well, workin' my blue jeans sensuously, causing throats to go suddenly dry in men and women alike as they can't take their eyes off my hypnotic, ambiguous, undeniable sex appeal. I want to be a karaoke rock GOD, baby.

Unfortunately, I think I sing best first thing in the morning, before I've done much talking and my voice is a full two octaves lower than normal. I discovered accidentally that in this state my voice is perfectly suited to any Depeche Mode song I could throw at it. This is unfortunate because, as Tery pointed out, there are really not a lot of early morning karaoke bars in the Denver area. Such is my life.

Last but not least, I've finally seen Disc 1 of Firefly, completing the season for me. I had to watch this last because all the bandwagon jumpers who had just come back from seeing Serenity beat me to it at Netflix. Except the disc was two days late in shipping so I reported it as missing in the mail. Then it arrived the same afternoon, the address label mangled beyond recognition by the post office, but I couldn't stop Netflix sending me a replacement. How ironic, first I couldn't get a single copy of the disc, now suddenly I had two. I also protest mightily Netflix's warning that my account would be suspended if I reported too many discs missing in the mail (this was my second), as if it's MY fault the post office loses things. Stupid post office. Stupid Netflix.

You are slimy, AOL. Slimy and sneaky and untrustworthy. You need to be watched every second like a damn Republican.

Today not only did I receive my hand-typed cancellation letter back as "Return to Sender" (after shelling out nearly $4 for delivery confirmation AND priority mailing. Don't think I won't be going back to the Post Office for a refund), after sending it to the address exactly as it appears on AOL's own website, but alongside it I got a cheerful letter from AOL confirming my continuation of service, thanking me for deciding to stay with them!

"This letter confirms that on June 15, 2005 you agreed to continue your AOL Service (technically correct. Like I said, they talked me into the $10-a-month plan to keep using the McAfee). Your service will continue and you will be charged $23.90 per month as agreed." (Here's where AOL develops the shifty, selective memory normally attributed to politicians and certain unscrupulous news media. Nice try, AOL. I know my memory is spotty at best, but I can certainly remember a conversation that took place only 10 days ago. Especially one noteworthy enough to write about in my blog. Though I suppose it's worth a try if they get even one ditz who says, "Gee, I could've sworn I called them to cancel my service. Oh, well, they are #1. They must know what they're talking about!")

So I had to use the damn phone AGAIN, which I was so desperately hoping to avoid. I got "John", whose thick, practically indecipherable Asian accent forced me to question whether that was his real name. From the sound of him, he could have been one of my ESL doctors moonlighting on the weekend. John's routine was very similar to Matt's so I won't bother to reiterate it here. He was able to walk the line between claiming to understand the lure of high-speed internet while insisting that I really was better off with AOL, more skillfully than excitable Matt. He again kept repeating the security selling points and praising me on my long-time customer loyalty, so I played the "gotta get back to work" card again. He asked me to hold while he put my cancellation through, after which followed a silence so absolute and so extended that I honestly thought I had lost him. This was either another ploy to get customers to hang up before finalizing the deal, or maybe John's company computer operated on a dial-up connection as well.

I think the deed is done. I'm not 100% sure, because when I asked John to send me a confirmation of the cancellation, he muttered something about how I needed to pay attention to some "very important details," then wished me a good day and hung up before actually giving me any. My suspicions are not allayed in the slightest by the fact that both John and Matt promised to send me an email regarding the request, both of whom were evidently lying.

This is by far the ugliest break-up I've ever gone through.

Monday was to be the total chill-out day, our chance to finally relax together after the wedding brou-ha-ha. Tery's mom took us out for lunch at Flander's, a "real seafood" restaurant. I bonded a little with Mike the groom over our mutual dislike of "real seafood"; he agreed with me that he preferred Friendly's' clamboat platter, "fake seafood." Friendly's was to be the last stop on my tour of New England restaurants, but Tery said she didn't think we'd get a chance. Boo. Mike and I both got the chicken...mine was so dry it practically hurt to swallow it, so that's how you know it's a "real seafood" restaurant. We went back to the Dombrowski house to hang out in Tery's dad's new hammock and later I got to lifeguard the kids in the pool (the first and only time they talked to me and tried to learn my name). And now, some pictures of trees:







This is what I'm talking about when I say there are no trees in CO. None like this anywhere (except possibly in the mountains).

Amy came to pick us up and drive us back to Boston. There was much sadness when we said goodbye to the Dombrowskis. I really love that family. We spent the night in Boston, but not before stopping at Friendly's after all. Hooray! The clamboat platter was also everything I remembered. Friendly's Revisited Experience: A+

Our plane left at 2 pm on Tuesday. One last stop at Dunkin Donuts and one last trip through hair-raising traffic. Amy dropped us off at the curb near Delta, again with much sadness. We went to check in but the clerk took one look at our tickets and shook his head disapprovingly. Just what you want to see when you are trying to check in. See, when we left Denver, we originally tried to check in at Continental since that was what it said on the E-ticket. The guy there showed us the small print that read, "Operated by Delta" and directed us to the Delta counter. Silly us! I always thought Delta and Continental were two entirely different entities. So we thought we were being all clever by going straight to Delta this time, when in reality we now wanted Continental. WTF????!?!?!?!!???! We can't be the first people confused by this. Logan is much larger than DIA, and the Continental desk was 3 terminals away. We hoofed it, sweating profusely the whole way, but again we had plenty of time.

Even more time than we thought we did, as the plane was 25 minutes late taking off. I tried not to worry. I tried to trust they knew what they were doing. But my air travel used to always be disastrous to the point of being comedic. I've been so late for a connecting flight that I had to ask for special treatment to be allowed off the plane first. I've had to run at top speed through an airport before, so I know the system isn't infallible, and I can never truly relax until I'm on that second connecting flight. But everything turned out to be fine. For the first time ever we arrived at gate C11 and departed from gate C17. We even had time to stop for Burger King (so naturally this time they actually served sandwiches on the plane). We had a little excitement after getting seated when the seat next to me stayed vacant. Tery jinxed it by making a big deal about it, because the rightful passenger showed up minutes before the cabin door closed. Ah, well. At least he was considerate about the armrest.

My only complaint was that there were so many children on the plane it was like a flying daycare center. Most were okay, but one little cherub woke up suddenly en route and then spent the last hour of the trip on and off (but way more on, I can assure you) screaming at the top of her lungs. My flimsy little headphones and my portable electronics turned to top volume couldn't drown this little monster out. I'm sure I'm not the only one who thought of requesting a pillow just to shut that goddam kid up. If animals are required to take tranquilizers to fly, I say it should similarly be mandatory for kids. My other suggestion for improving air travel would be to seat people according to carry-on size. Specifically, if you're trying to get away with something that only meets the maximum allowed by a hairsbreadth and will take 10 minutes to stuff into the overhead, you get to sit at the back of the plane so the rest of us don't have to stand there waiting because you're blocking the whole aisle with your selfish stupidity. You can also spend as much time as you want trying to unwedge your "carry-on" while the rest of us exit the plane. If I were running an airline, this would be policy one for sure.

When we arrived in Denver the plan was to call our housesitting friend from the first phone we saw, then go through baggage claim and sit and wait on the curb. So with 20-30 minutes to kill, naturally we got to the baggage carousel to find all the bags already spinning, and found ours in less than 3 minutes, another first. Mazzenfrackin... It was soooooo good to be home again with our babies (I got the usual silent treatment from Alsatia, but she got over it a few hours later when she remembered that yes, I'm the one she always used to sleep with). Tery went to get the bird who has been an angel ever since... we wonder if she thinks her miserable week in the hospital was punishment.

In conclusion: It's nice to get away, but it's nicer coming back. I missed New England - the trees, the winding back streets that are really fun to drive, the family, the feeling of being home. I told Tery I think this is the best visit I've ever had with the Dombrowskis. Maybe because now Mike is the "newbie" but I felt totally at home with them for the first time. It was a nice feeling. I didn't miss at all the debilitating humidity or having to drive 30 minutes to get to a store. We kept saying we'd be back in 9 months because Mike and Michelle can't wait to have their first child. Tery left not a moment too soon: her complexion that does fairly well in CO's dry climate started breaking out violently into what resembled a very bad heat rash. Fortunately this was after the wedding or she would have spent the entire weekend obsessing about it.

The most exciting thing that will be as a result of our visit is the fact that I simply cannot go back to my crappy AOL dial-up existence. Every place we stayed in CT had either DSL or cable modem. My first day back with AOL and it seemed like the connection had slowed to half its speed. Websites we visited in CT that loaded in the blink of an eye took so long on my computer I always had to give up in frustration. I got kicked offline no less than three times - it was like AOL wasn't even trying to please me anymore. The decision was easier when I realized that between AOL and the second phone line, I was already paying $42 a month. !!!!! It seems well worth it to shell out an extra $10 for a superior online experience. The other last straw was when I tried to access my AOL mail remotely at their website and more often than not I'd get the message that my sister's computer settings were wrong. Even though I had successfully used the site just an hour before. Stupid, useless AOL. I know they make it really hard for you to cancel, but this is it. We're through, AOL.

Here endeth the vacation posts, I promise.

At this hour (2:30 pm Mountain time) AOL STILL has not updated its top headlines, and they are mocking me with promises that Ohio is still too close to call, and that Republicans are "convinced" (quotations AOL's) of win.   Gee, ya think?   I prefer to believe this is because the AOL updating staff is holding out for a late-breaking story, still hoping to snatch victory from the very jaws of defeat. That or they are just so inconsolable that they can't bring themselves to change it to a less hopeful story. However, it is very possible it is only because I haven't gone offline and back on since this morning.

I am quickly losing patience with computers. Or specifically, my computer.

This new intolerance began when it occurred to me just how many cumulative months I have spent watching a little blue download bar march agonizingly across the screen, moving as stubbornly slowly as a blue-hair Sunday driver on Tuesday. I imagine my life being measured in these little percent increments. There is plenty of time for all manner of such crazy thoughts while I watch the little download bar's maddeningly miniscule progress. Even worse are the download windows that generate a "time remaining" screen. What they fail to mention is that the time remaining is computer time, not human time. In this skewed measurement (not unlike dog years), "8 minutes" could actually translate into "20 minutes" or more. Please don't toy with me so, download screen. A little more truth in advertising, please.

In this same vein, I am rapidly losing my faith in tech support people. I had trouble with some software, software I've been using regularly for a year or more, which suddenly and inexplicably started producing error messages and stopped doing what it was supposed to (my long-time readers will remember said software from the infamous and aptly-named Computers Will Be the Death of Me post). It took over a week of going back and forth on the support message board before we solved the problem. The whole time I just wanted them to come out and admit they had no idea what to tell me, and stop wasting my time. But I did get a free upgrade to a new version that normally would have cost about $60. So it wasn't all bad.

This week my problem is with sending email via AOL. Sending brief (i.e. 15 lines or less) communiques entails about a 2-minute wait after hitting "send." Anything longer and the entire program locks up and has to be manually shut down via the task manager, with needless to say the mail in question refusing to go to its destination, hanging out in my "Waiting to Send" box like an insolent loafer, drinking all my pop and leaving the cap off the toothpaste. I've already had three tech support guys for breakfast. The first's advice was to restart the computer and shut down all applications running in the task manager, of which there were exactly 0...maybe he doesn't understand that applications don't show up in the manager until they are started. The second wanted me to email him my system info. Which sounds promising, until one realizes that the whole reason I contacted him is I CAN'T SEND LONG EMAILS. Brilliant.

At this point I abandoned the online chat route, which frankly is hella annoying anyway. The tech people are obsequious and pandering to the point of being embarrassing. The conversation is peppered with "I'm sorry you are having this inconvenience" and "I am sure we can get this fixed right away. Thank you so much for your patience" and "Is there anything else I can do for you, Oh Glorious AOL User? Perhaps detail your car or balance your checkbook?" I believe in being polite, but Jesus. I don't need someone licking my boots, I just want to send some freakin' email. The third guy on the phone took me through several basic and ultimately ineffective attempted solutions. I could tell his frustration was beginning to match mine when he asked, "What are you trying to send??" as if I was emailing my friend the complete text of the 9/11 Commission's findings or something (which personally, at $24 a month for crappy dial-up access, I think I should be able to if I was really so inclined). He finally mumbled something about having to check with the server people and trying again after 24 hours. Translation: "I have no idea what to tell you." Later today I will probably uninstall the software and reinstall, typically a master problem-solving technique for almost every kind of software.

I wish I could find someone to pay me $17 an hour to sit on my butt and tell people to uninstall and reinstall. I wish even more AOL would work the way it's supposed to or lower their prices accordingly. Yeah, right...