She Called Me What?

Just about the time you think you’ve seen the worst case of customer service, you ain’t seen nothing yet, “ESPECIALLY THE SERVICE! I opened my MasterCard bill yesterday and there was a charge for $29.99. The .99 cents is another story, I mean, oh gee thanks, you didn’t charge me thirty bucks. How nice, but then I digress. (Is that like depression?) The little problem was I didn’t use the product, hadn’t used the product, and wasn’t about to use the product there, WHY DID I GET CHARGED THE $29.99?

So I made a critical decision and decided I’d find out why they charged me for something I didn’t have. Well I first tried to see if I couldn’t get the answer by using my computer. I mean I’m getting pretty damn good on the contraption. I even learned how to book mark my favorite girlie sites! Well, they wanted my user ID and the product number in order for me to talk to anyone. Now that presented a small problem, BECAUSE I DIDN”T HAVE THEIR DAMN PRODUCT!!!! So I found the 800 number on the bill and called that.

Well what happened next would fit well with Obama’s new government health care program, specifically the department that figures it’s cheaper if you just killed yourself to save money. I got put on hold and listening to Elton John, only it sounded like he was singing under water. He’d start croonin and it sounded like he was gargling the song and then in the middle of the gargling some English gal’d come on and thank me for waiting and then she called me a “Query!” I’m not kiddin! I’m sittin there innocently listening to Elton John, that Elton John and she’s callin me “Query!” Well, I listened to Elton John gargle, Peter Gabriel gargle, Dianna Ross gargle, Billy Joel gargle all the while this English gal’d come on and thank me for waitin and tell me something about my “Query.” I was beginning to get a might pissed off!

Well this had gone on for fifteen minutes and I was so dad blamed mad I thought I’d spit up on myself. I mean I was listening to the Beatles gargle and they were gargling “The Long and Winding Road” and I had to pee and all of a sudden there was a person on the line and she sounded like a human being. I said in a very pleasant voice, “You people trying to kill me? I mean give me a knife and I’ll cut my throat right now after listening to the top twenty all time gargles?” (Thus I see value in this for getting rid of folks and savin on health care) Well of course she was trying to be nice and so she apologized and said “Give me your E-Mail address and tell me what can we do for you today?” So I start to give her my E-Mail address and I’m explainin away how nobody ought to be charged for something they don’t have and then it struck me like a ball peen hammer, I WAS TALKIN TO MYSELF! That’s right, after waitin over fifteen minutes to talk to a human; the human dropped the call to the complaining human.

Yup, you got it right! I had to call back in, listen to more gargling and the English woman kept saying the “Query” word over and over. As I was listening to “Queen?” gargling the Bohemian Rhapsody, (That was funnier than hell) another human popped onto the line and away we went. Well, long story short I got my money back, she apologized and was real nice up until I asked her what she was doing that evening and then informed me I wasn’t being called a name, that Query meant question. So I posed a query to her. “Why the hell don’t the English speak English?” She dropped my call. Another grand example of “Outstanding Service!” Now I’m going to the John and gargle myself to death.

We'll Be Right Back

“We’ll be right back!” Jeez Louise I’m gettin sick and damn tired of those words. I got all worked up the other day cause my favorite football team, "Da Bears" was playing the pukes from Cincinnati. I settled myself onto the couch in my officialy logo’d Bear Snuggy, with a snoot of Jimmy Beam close by ready to watch “FOOTBALL!” Now listen closely brothers and sisters. “I turned the Boob tube on to watch Football.” I didn’t turn the damn thing on to watch commercials and promos about some dufus comedy that the supposed experts said was the funniest show ever. Yeah right and then it gets cancelled two weeks later on account watching paint dry was a lot funnier.

Anyways I took a sip of my Beam, settled back all comfy in my snuggy and then spent the next thirty minutes listening to several boobs goin on like they actually knew a thing or two about the game of football. Of course after each asinine comment the “Lead Boob” would promo a television show about Cross Dressing Christian Couples and then say, “We’ll be right back.” Unfortunately for me, he and his trio of “Boobettes” fulfilled their promise and they indeed came right back. Well, finally after six minutes of commercials, one where sexy girls floated up a guys nostril while he shaved and then another one where a guy my age talked about how you could give Mr. Winkie a drug and you’d get laid that very night and then finally a guy my age was a talkin about peeing too much THEY ACTUALLY KICKED THE DAMN FOOTBALL OFF AND SOMEBODY GOT TACKLED and then, then, then they broke for another commercial where I learned about feminine Hygiene and Beer that would attract beautiful half naked women and then finally, it was back to the game.

Well on the very first play the quarterback threw and incompletion and the “Color Guy" who was actually white said the ball was poorly thrown. Well damn, how’d he figure that one out seeings how it sailed five feet over the receivers head? On the very next play the tail back fumbled and, you guessed it, they said, “We’ll be right back.” Then I was treated to some guys messing with Sasquatch, a drug that’d probably kill ya if ya ever took it and a Taco Bell commercial that was promoting a hell of a lot more than taco’s. Why even ole Merle turned a tad pink in the face. I mean, women dressed in black promotin tacos? What's this world coming to? Then it was back to the football game, at least I think there was a game going on. So, after being treated to six replays of the dumb ass fumbling the football, the other team marches up to the line of scrimmage. Of course the quarterback didn’t like the play he had called so he immediately calls a time out and you guessed it, the magic words “We’ll be right back” were uttered and I was then treated to a laxative, a lizard selling insurance and Neanderthals bowling before it was back to the game where the idiot white colored guy told me the quarterback had been confused with the defense, that’s why he called a time out. DUH, Really?

I finally gave up, turned the damn game off and put my “Girls gone Wild” 3D video on and spent the rest of my Sunday afternoon marveling at the wonders of the fairer sex while I provided my own, highly insightful, commercial free commentary and not once did I say “We’ll be right back.” After all, I had the remote and all I had to do was just hit the damn pause button when we had to go to the John and I was the only one there, so there was no sense in tellin myself what I already knew. I knew I'd be right back. No sense beatin a dead horse! Beam me up Scotty!

You're Kiddin Me, Right?

There it was, right smack dab on the TV screen! Why, I couldn't believe my baby blue's. It was a Jim Beam commercial and it actually said the following: "Best enjoyed responsibly." Huh? I certainly enjoy it and I have multiple reasons for enjoying my Beam, but what strikes me funny is the word "Responsible" never EVER crosses my mind when I'm pounding down some Jimmy Beam. Quite frankly Myrtle, after a couple of snoots, I couldn't spell the word responsible with an open dictionary in front of me. Hell, I'm too busy singing, "Hunka, Hunka, Burnin Love," while toolin around the neighborhood on my John Deere ridin mower a little after midnight! Why Wally Sims through a hammer at me the other evening. Party pooper! What's this world comin to anyway?

Khloe' Kardashian

I was standin in the line at the Supermarket the other day and as you all know, that’s where I read a lot. Well my eyes were yanked out of their sockets by this cover story of some gal named Khloe’ Kardashian and she was a wearin a blue bikini and the Headline Screamed, “Don’t Call Me Fat.” Well, I was stunned because lookin at that body evoked a lot of calls for sure, but none were associated with the word “Fat!”

I mean there was the, “I’d like to call you up,” thought. There was I’d like to call you, “Baby, baby, baby” thought. There was the “Call of the wild,” thought and of course there was the “put in a call for some Viagra,” thought, but nowhere was I a callin her fat. The girl must be brainwashed or something. I mean if she showed up out here in Iowa she’d be steppin over more guys than cow shit. She was that good looking. That damn bikini was a promotin her talents better than any Hollywood talent scout ever could. Hell, just lookin at that picture was givin me heart proliferations and I had to step back for a minute so as to collect myself, but then I got to thinkin. (I’m, if nothing, a thinkin man.)

I thunk, “Don’t let the body fool ya Merle, she still a Kardashian and you have no idea how what they'd do to earth males while makin love.” I remember that Kardashian gal on Star Trek and she was one weird lookin chick. Why in another couple of years this Khloe’ gal’s gonna have one of them funny foreheads too and if she puts on any weight so’s she’s actually a tad heavy, then all you’re ever gonna do is look at that damn forehead and wonder just what the hell’s under them bumps anyways? I stepped back up close and looked at the picture to see if I could see any bumps that were a growin on her forehead. Sure enough, Martha, the checkout gal thought I was a starin at the more prominent bumps currently surrounded by the blue bikini and she bellowed, “Merle you pervert! You drool on our magazines one more time and there’ll be hell to pay.” I hollered back, “I’ll be payin you for my groceries Martha, and that’s hell enough!”

You know, maybe if you could keep a Kardashian gal at the proper weight and you didn’t mind travelin all over the Universe it wouldn’t be so bad, the forehead and everything. Sure they're amoral, powerful and intelligent beings, but that sure would beat the hell outa being married to a pain in the wazoo like Martha. Beam me up Scotty! “Oh, and Scotty, is that Kardashian gal up on the bridge?” Ha, ha I crack myself up sometimes! "Oh! Hi there Martha, let me see your forehead. Just a kiddin!!”

Gettin Gas While Gettin Gas'd Up

Judas A Priest, when did it become so damn difficult to get ten gallons of gasoline? I swear, if they put anymore buttons on them damn gas pumps I’m gonna be forced to repeat the eighth grade. I remember when I was kid we’d stop at Arty Detbarn’s Shell station in town and the whole process of filling your car with gas involved telling Arty to “Fill er up.” That was it! “Fill er up Arty.” Now how difficult is that? Ole Arty’d put the nozzle in after removing the gas cap and then he’d come up and even clean the windows while the gas tank was being filled. It was up close and personal service. It was so up close and personal the ashes on the end of Arty’s cigarette would tumble off and into your lap while you sat there and you got a good look at Arty’s nose hairs and arm pits as he stretched across the window with his squeegee. Arty was as hairy as a Shetland pony he was. Now those were the good ole days. In no time you were gassed up and on your way.

Well the nincompoop that bought ole Arty out recently installed those new fangled gas pumps with all them buttons and screens that you couldn’t see in bright sunlight if your life depended on it. I stopped in yesterday for a fill up and I swear, I’d probably been better off stopping off somewhere else to perform heart surgery or something.

I got out of the car wistfully thinking about the good ole days and Arty’s nose hairs and put my brand new credit card in the slot and swiped it. Nothing happened. I squinted at the screen and finally realized it said I needed to "insert my card again. So I swiped the bugger again and nothing happened again. I could feel my blood pressure a rising a tad. Well I squinted a little harder and realized this pump wanted me to insert the card in the reverse fashion of what every other gas pump on the planet wanted. I swiped the card with feeling and heard the pump go “Beep.” Well, havin gotten a “beep” meant something positive must be goin on so I squinted at the screen again.

Now it wanted my damn zip code. What the hell did it need my zip code for? I wasn’t mailing anything for crying out loud. Realizin nature was a callin I went and quickly punched in my zip code while tappin my foot on the ground to distract myself. Nothin happened “Again.” So I squinted at the magic screen one more time and it said “Hit Enter.” Well for crying out loud! I hit enter and nothing happened. I looked at the frickin magic screen again and it said “Enter Your Zip Code!” Well I slapped the damn thing upside the whatever and stalked into the gas station and low and behold there was this little feller and as they say, “He ain’t from here!” I said “The damn thing ain’t workin! How many times do I have to enter my damn zip code to buy a tank of gas?” Well the little dim wit looked at his dim wit screen and he said in a foreign accent, “There's is nothing on my screen. You must enter your zip code if you want to get gas.” I got a couple of inches away from his face and I said, “BEEN THERE, DONE THAT!” He said, “No you didn’t or it would be on my screen.”

Well I realized I was a getting nowhere with the little nitwit with the accent so I went out and put my zip code in one more time. Now I really had to go to the john and I was literally clackin my knees together. Well after I hit Enter it went “Beep.” Flushed with victory I grabbed the nozzle and hit the Regular button. Nothing happened. Well I squinted at the magic screen again all the while describing it’s mother and it said, “Do you want a car wash?” I started jumpin up and down a screamin “I want gas damn it, I just want frickin gas!” Well that wasn’t workin so I hit the “No” button and it went “Beep!” I whirled around and quickly squeezed the nozzle. Nothin happened. I glared at the screen and it said, “Would you like a donut or a cup of coffee?”

Well the town cop “Dougy McWilliams” eventually let me off with a warning but not before he said, “Merle if I ever get called down here again on account you’re a kickin somebody’s gas pumps and beatin it with your fists and I’ll run your ass in for sure. You got that?” Well I finally got the damn thing to go “Beep” one more time and was putting my hard won gas in her and noticed Dougy coming back out of the station with a frickin donut and a cup of coffee. Hmm, I thought to myself, maybe that stuff works after all. I started wistfully thinkin about Arty’s nose hairs as I put the nozzle back on the pump and then headed up the road to Jake Timmon’s place. I was thinkin maybe I’d talk to him about buyin a horse.