Month: July 2007

  • My address is my passport. Verify me.

    I was almost asleep and then remembered that I wanted to get this posted before it slipped my mind completely.

    Related to an earlier disaster regarding certain bank accounts, today I uncovered another slightly smaller disaster. During the process of getting things remedied, the customer support representative on the phone needed to verify that I am who I say I am. The bank’s preferred method of doing so, apparently, involves asking a series of multiple choice questions. Today I got the “addresses you’ve used before” quiz set. As this was being explained to me I stated confidently that I’ve only moved twice in the last decade so it shouldn’t be too much of a challenge.

    Yep. I opened my big mouth again. You’d think I’d know better by now: The instant I make a definitive statement I’m proven wrong almost immediately.

    The first question went back to the heady days of my early marriage. The second question was a trick, as none of the presented multiple-choice options were valid. For the third, they went back to my earliest days as a semi-independent functional adult person. It’s a good thing I remembered the street names or I might’ve had a much more difficult time getting today’s crisis settled!

    I hasten to point out, mind you, that I’m very grateful that policies are in place to verify that the person who calls Washington Mutual to monkey around with my account is actually Me and not just some random identity thief who was able to learn my SSN and DOB. I highly approve of this sort of protective policy in general.

  • Testing, testing: MP3 player plugin

    This is just a quick test to see if the following actually works:

    [audio:BT_Movement_Promo.mp3]

    If it doesn’t play for you, please let me know what web browser you’re using and on what operating system. Thank you.

  • Going down in flames?

    As one travels along the so-called Sunset Highway, near the crest of the Sylvan hill one spots a sign advertising the presence of a church. I don’t have much use for churches in general, but this one amuses me.

    Its logo consists, as near as I can tell, of the image of a white bird going down in flames. No, I’m not kidding. You see the stylized white dove (common Christian imagery, that) and above it is a wavy, spiky line that is supposed to denote… something. An aura, perhaps. It looks like nothing so much as a representation of fire.

    Can anyone explain what may have possessed the designer to go with such a motif? I’m sure there’s a valid theological reason; I just can’t come up with an idea which doesn’t involve the concept of a church poking fun at itself.

    I remain amused, of course.

  • Stroboscopic Ceiling

    That’d make a fine band name, anyway. They would’ve been playing at the lightswitch rave in my bedroom last night. Though a proper rave would’ve included underdressed party girls, wouldn’t it? Damn my luck.

    Let me explain. (There isn’t too much, so I don’t need to sum up.) You see, apparently the 5th of July is the night on which the neighborhood kids get to light off the cheaper fireworks. Their weapon of choice? The strobe bomb (or whatever its technical name is, which I can’t be bothered to look up right now on account of being very, very tired and a bit cranky). I gotta tell ya, it’s awfully difficult to get to sleep when my bedroom is illuminated to almost daylight brightness several times per second for ten seconds, every few minutes, for well over an hour. Occasionally they changed gears and lit off various screamingly noisy things. Hooray for variety. I think they ran out of ammunition around 11:30, then settled for just talking at full volume for a while. Neighbors, schmeighbors. Nobody needs to work the next day, right?

    And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to see about staggering and stumbling my way through my workday.

  • I can still call her my kid sister.

    She’ll always be the “kid” of the family, because she’s five years younger than I am and each of us only has the one sibling. (My present to her is that I won’t state my age here to prevent casual readers from doing the math. See what a loving big brother I am?)

    Happy Birthday, Sis!