JUST TAKE MY DAMN MONEY, CHASE BANK!!!*

"I want to deposit this in my husband's checking account. I don't know his account number but we also have a joint account here, you can probably find it through that, right?"

"You have an account?"

"Yes. We have a joint checking. But I want this to go just in HIS account."

"What's your social security number?"

"{insert SSN here}"

"Okay, here's the account you are linked to. How much do you want to put in?"

"$$$ - but I want to put it in HIS solo account."

"What's his account number?"

{sigh}

"I don't know. But isn't it listed with our joint account?"

"Yes. But I can't give out that information."

"I don't want information. I want to put money in it."

"But I can't give out any information about his account."

"You can't just PUT MONEY IN IT?"

"No, I can't give out other people's account information."


That is the point when my head exploded.

I was just trying to give the man some money. GIVE IT TO HIM. Why is this a problem? I don't understand why someone can't go into a bank and put money into anyone's account that they want. I don't need any information! The dude farts in the same bed as me, trust me, I have enough freaking information.

*I tried really hard not to use multiple exclamation points in this post, but I just can't help myself.

Everybody Loves Mark

"... So I bought Pamprin. I tried to find one that said it helps mood swings, but there wasn't one."

"That sucks. But if it just said it on the box, wouldn't that be the same?"

Blink. Blink, blink.

"Excuse me? How would that work? Because I THOUGHT I shouldn't have mood swings I wouldn't? I would get pissed about something and then think, 'Oh, no, I took that pill, I can't be pissed!' OH MY GOD. Do you understand this at all? This isn't a choice to be a bitch! THIS IS HORMONES!!!"

"Um... uh-oh."

"You are so dead."

"I was just trying to be funny!"

"I can't do funny today. Leave me alone."

What kind of blooper would that be, exactly?

"Do you pronounce it sit-COM or sit-COME?"

"Sit-com. Who says sit-come?"

"I've heard people say it that way. I think I say sit-com, too.... sit-come....sit-com... Yeah, that's right."

"You know what it stands for, right?"

"Situation Comedy. Oh, so it's definitly sit-com. You're right."

"I think sit-come is what they call porno bloopers."

Hamsters Without Wheels

Guy: "...of course I think I'm cute, so what do I know about cute guys... Don't worry, I said it, you don't have to."

Me: "I wasn't going to say anything!"

Guy: "I saw your wheels working..."

Girl: "She doesn't have any wheels!"

Guy: "No wheels?"

Girl: "No, just a little hamster." {Mimics hamster running on a wheel}

Me: "A hamster ON A WHEEL, maybe?"

Girl: "NO. Just a hamster running." {Mimics hamster on wheel again}

Me: "Hamsters run on wheels, dude."

Girl: "Not yours. He just runs in little circles up there. Hey, maybe that's why you get headaches!"

Me: "Probably."

Dead bodies stuffed in tires

Why, why, why would someone think that it's okay to put their trash in my yard? Last night I actually saw someone get out of their car and put several bags and a box of trash on my curb. Trash collection was this morning, but I hadn't even put my own stuff out yet! I just don't understand this. If I wasn't such a wuss I totally would have yelled at that bitch. But really, what was her motivation here? Why couldn't her trash go on her own curb? Or in a dumpster? Maybe there was a dead body in one of the bags. No, they were kinda small, it would have to have been split up into several bags, and the head could have been in the box. Or maybe it was just lead paint, asbestos and tires. In which case I could understand why she picked my house, it looks like the kind of place people would keep dangerous materials.

You know we bought beer

"What was the guy behind us buying?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"I think I know him from work."

"And if you knew what he was buying you would know if you knew him?"

"Yes."

"I see."