Fun In Cars

Yesterday my mother and I were driving and observing signs.

Me: “Big kids sale?” *Best infomercial voice* “Come to the Big Kids Sale! We’ve got any kids you want! Fat kids!”
Mom: “Tall kids!”
Me: “Old Kids!”
Mom: *laughing*
Me: “Gargantuan kids! One is scientifically considered a giant! We’ve got discounts on a bouquet of children in any shape and color! Buy in bulk and save for the holidays! We need to offload these kids immediately so we brought the discount to you! We’re slashing prices so we don’t have to slash throats!”
Mom: *wheezing*
Me: “My brain is awesome, mom. Thanks for that.”
Mom: “You’re welcome.”

What bothers you? 10 Things that grate my cheese

1. People that talk on cellphones when they are being waited on (or rung out) –
Yesterday I stood for about ten minutes in a busy grocery store only looking to buy salad dressing and sliced turkey breast. Why? As a woman shouted in her phone at a cable company, her inept husband fumbled to scan in four items. FOUR. Then after all of that was done, he told her it was $53. She then put her hand over the receiver and said “Well I only have $42.” They had a conversation back and forth and as I looked at the other registers to my left and right I saw everyone traveling quickly through the line. Then her inept husband took a bill from the pile they had amassed, smoothed it out, and leaned forward to see what way the display showed him the bill had to go in (though below it says “face up”, it doesn’t say which way it needed to be slid in) and he fingered the edges to make sure that the corners were super straight before placing the bill down with one hand while using his other hand to force it in like it was a game of shuffleboard.

2. People that talk loudly on their cellphones –
One of my neighbors has taken to going outside and standing on the walkway directly in front of my window and shout into his phone. HE LIVES ALONE. So instead of muffling the sound by making the call upstairs in his condo, he decides to shout it at me. Most of the time I don’t really care about it, unless it’s 9am on a Saturday and I have just managed to pass out for a small block of time. I make it a habit not to start making noise until about 4pm as I know he works the night shift. Instead, I either leave for the day or I watch TV until I hear the creaking above. Then it’s ukulele happy fun time.

3. Networks spreading out their programming so they can bloat your DVR with crap you’ve already seen –
I know that every network is “struggling” (HA!) to sell ads for their shows because everyone has a DVR, Tivo, or digital cable nowadays (or no cable). But when they push back their programming by 1-2 weeks, guess who has two middle fingers and forgets to watch it? THIS GIRL. By the time I finally remember to watch a program that I lost touch with, the main character is pregnant and they are trapped on an Island and forced to play game shows against polar bears.

4. Vegetable farts –
Self explanatory. They’re super stinky and you can’t be stealth in public.

5. People that tell me how to do my job –
I’ve been here six years and have been observed by corporate to determine how I am so efficient. Tell me how to do my job and I will brain you with my telephone.

6. Sloppy Drunks –
Dude… I know. Everyone gets wasted every now and again. I guess that because (for the most part) I control my inebriation I get irritated when other people don’t. During my vacation I ended up drinking while I was skyping with a few friends. When I hung up the final call, I realized that I was super drunk. I couldn’t focus. I get paranoid when I’m drunk and terrified about trying to sleep and vomiting. Also? The spins are dumb. I ended up booting until about 1 in the morning and had to sleep sitting up. I. HATE. THAT. So seeing someone that has obviously had too many wear a stupid grin on their smashed faces makes me want to smash their face in. In my past I have had someone in my car that was so hammered, they took the bottom of the pant leg of their jeans, pulled it inside-out up to the knee, and then puked in it like it was a barf bag. Luckily, I’ve never gotten puke in my car.

7. People that treat me like I’m less intelligent than I am –
Yes… I swear like a trucker. I have verbal diarrhea in social situations (and on this blog) that would make your mother weep and has made my mother hit me with a rolled up newspaper. Although my language is muddled with profanity, my vocabulary is extensive and I don’t shy from larger words.

8. Bees –
Self explanatory

9. Procedural Crime Shows – In the Lab
One of the biggest pet peeves I have is the distinct lack of realistic time span in the lab. It would be better if they had a timer ticking off in the bottom right of the screen as they worked.

10. Obnoxious interstitials in hold music –
When I am angry enough to have to call a company, trying to sell me something while I wait for ten minutes makes it worse. I then take it out on the employee and they don’t deserve it. They’re not paid enough to deal with my wrath.

Happy Independence Day (kinda).

I don’t know if this happens in other countries, but on holidays in big corporations, emails are sent from people you don’t know.

Typically it is decorated in a plethora of gifs and clip art and sometimes it feels like it’s the beginning of a chain email. It’s like saying on Facebook or Twitter “RT/Repost This if you like freedom.”

Wha? If I don’t repost something I’m Un-American? I know full well what it took to achieve Independence and what it has taken to keep it. I assure you that it is not clip art and gifs.

So, imagine my surprise when my bestie forwarded me his Independence Day email. I am so happy that I opened it because what he sent me had me laughing so damn hard I snarfed.

Subject: FW: HOLIDAY

I assure you that I will write a post about my July 4th Weekend when it happens. My weekend happens next weekend. (Check out what I mean at

Unsolicited Replies to Inappropriate/Unnecessary Questions/Comments on the Internets

I will be answering these messages that actually exist as if I were a famous actor and the tweets were actually sent to me (because it’s funnier that way and the main purpose of this is to crack me up… that and I’m really famous in my brain). Just call me Notorious A-L-I.

[That being said, I’d love to be famous… Hook a sistah up!]

**Full details of the @alisonbaziak dream here** [followed by link: in said link it mentions how the tweeter “made out with” the dream version of me]
A part of me wonders what the poster expected from tagging me in their post. Because I am incredibly curious, I think “Fuck yeah I wanna know what dream me did! That bitch is CRAZY fun!” I get it, we all have weird dreams. Sometimes famous people show up in them. I didn’t even post the one with the coked out singer trying to get crack in exchange for doing dental work on me.
When the end of the dream is me making out with the dreamer, I wonder if they think that one random day their doorbell is going to ring and I’m going to be standing out there with a red rose to pull them into a passionate embrace. From a fan stand point that would be pretty cool, but that’s less likely than being struck by lightning (Odds for that are 1/750,000. Yep. Looked it up.) I wonder what the odds are for being tazered by your favorite celebrity… It has to be better odds than that.

**Here’s a link to a video I made of my favorite clips of @alisonbaziak** [the video is every partially nude/make out scene ALI has ever done]
Awesome… You have taken every scene out of context and put them all together. You have taken ten years of my life and truncated it into five minutes of me without clothing. The only thing that could make it worse would be to add a completely inappropriate song to it… Oh wait, I forgot it was on mute… Prodigy’s Smack My Bitch Up?!  Really?? REALLY??
Okay, I should have started this entire blog entry by saying that it’s flattering that you would take the time to appreciate my work. It’s gratifying to know that my work means something to you. But if the only thing you like about my work is a lack of clothing… Well that’s still awesome but please don’t tag me in your post. As I’ve mentioned before… I’m a curious person.

**Can we get arrested for mentioning @alisonbaziak too much?**
Unfortunately, no. HA! I’m kidding. Mention me all you want. In this business, the fan base is what keeps you employed. I love my fans. Some of you can take it a little too far, but that’s what restraining orders are for (Plus, with one of those it may have my autograph! Squee!)

[Stepping out of character for a moment… THIS IS INCREDIBLY FUN! I like pretending I’m famous. It’s like playing dress up as a kid. Okay, back I go!]

**I’ve been waiting since age 9 to be on a school bus w/@alisonbaziak that gets in an accident so I could come to her rescue**
Setting aside the fact that this is incredibly morbid… Thank you for being clever. Creepy, but still clever. My first reaction was to laugh. My second was to make sure you weren’t a bus driver. If for some reason you’ve never gotten your license, please be sure to keep it that way.

**@alisonbaziak You’re hot. Follow me please?**
An Answer in <140 Characters?: No
A More Verbose Reply: Once again, thank you for being a fan. As much as it IS gratifying to hear that you find me attractive, please understand that on Twitter, those words are under every picture I post. A surplus of times. I will NEVER reply to any of those comments because although it’s humbling to hear it, thanking you for it would make me seem narcissistic. It’s also not very original. *shrug* Sorry, I’m just being honest. Plus, if I start following you, the inappropriate direct messages start and I have to feel like a jerk for unfollowing you and then blocking you from my account.

**@alisonbaziak Did you like doing your last project? Was there ever one you did that you didn’t like?**
What cracks me up more than this question is to see that this is in reply to a post I made about an interview WHERE I ANSWERED THIS QUESTION!! Yes, I enjoyed the last project I did. I’ve done a few rotters, but I’ll never tell you which one(s) I think was (were). That’s called “biting the hand that feeds you”.

**@alisonbaziak What are your thoughts on drugs?**
… [Even in pretend mode I cannot think of an answer here that isn’t “Why the fuck would I tell you that?”]

**I think Alison Baziak should change her name. Was there ever a more disturbing name for an actor?**
Well first, fuck you. Your name isn’t spectacularly awesome either. Second, it’s unique. I know that my link is going to be the first one to come up on a search engine when someone types it in the search bar. And third, I like disturbing. Next!

**@alisonbaziak Wanna see me naked?** [no joke. I found this one.]
Yes. Not because I think you and I have the start to a budding relationship. Mainly because I’m perverse and I can always use a good laugh. Unless you’re hot, then that’s another story. But rule of thumb – If you don’t like looking at yourself naked, chances are I won’t either.

Want more replies? Feel free to leave some random questions! I would love to reprise this role!


Shady Cable: We Didn’t Order This

When refunds are given, there is an entire rigamarole of how you issue the credit. Was it an On Demand movie that didn’t play at all? Did someone’s son order porn?

Well this is definitely a story about someone calling in for a refund.

“Thank you for calling Shady Cable, this is Ali, how may I help you?”

The woman on the other end of the phone was furious. She wasn’t yelling at me, but she obviously had a chip on her shoulder because she did not sound amused at all.

I took her information and pulled up her account and felt a knot form in the pit of my stomach. Her Pay-Per-View limit had maxed out at over a thousand dollars. A thousand dollars. Let it be said that this is a monthly limit and her account hadn’t been delinquent for the last few months. I pulled open the list of charges and immediately wished I hadn’t.

Porn… is friggin expensive. When you buy a block of porn or even just one movie it can range from $9.99 to $49.99. In my head I had already jumped to possible ways to rectify this issue. I mean, holy hellballs that was a lot of porn. I didn’t even see how it was physically possible for someone to WATCH that much porn in a month.

She continued talking and I had already prepped to transfer this call to a supervisor as there was no possible way that I could refund that sizeable amount. There was a limit to what I could write off.

Finally, she got to the point where she commented on the Pay-Per-View charges. She said “I want a movie removed from my bill.” Immediately, my head cocked to the side inquisitively (like she could see me). ONE movie? Obviously she didn’t look at the other pages.

I asked her what movie it was and I was hoping she didn’t ask me to read the titles. It’s not that I am squeamish when it comes to things like that, but with my luck, my “QA” review would be of this call.

When she spoke I stopped and had her repeat it. “Finding Nemo.”

Finding Nemo? Okay, a $4.99 movie is the one you’re disputing? Not the twenty $18.95 charges above it? I was so dumbfounded, all I could reply with was “Finding Nemo?”

Her response? “Yes. There are no kids in this house. None of us would watch that.”

I asked her if I could put her on hold as I tried to locate the movie in the itemized list for the month. Once I got the okay I jammed my finger on the MUTE button and laughed like a bastard. I laughed so hard I started to hiccup. As I was doing that, I immediately credited her the $4.99.

If someone could make me laugh and surprise me, they got a credit. Plus, she paid the rest of the bill at the end of the call.

Shady Cable: The Tale of Mr. Tomkins

At Shady Cable, training was a cinch. Because I have grown up in the era of technology, computer prgrams seem to come easier for me. I loathe for the day that I look at something and it completely blows my mind as to what the eff is going on.

That being said, when you go through training at a cable company they neglect to tell you about the caliber of some of the callers. Some of them are CRAZY. I mean tin foil hat crazy. This my friends, is the tale of one such individual.

It was my first week on the floor and I was very green to the situations that I would be subjected to. I heard the beep on my end of the line signaling that I had a caller and I answered with the standard greeting that I was told to use.

“Thank you for calling Shady Cable, my name is Ali, how can I help you today?”

Little did I know that the caller was insane. He began to speak, in a deep velvety voice with traces of James Earl Jones and Tom Waits lulling me into a false sense of security. He then started to tell me about the most fantastic plot ever hatched by C.B.Radio.

He claimed that he was being monitored by THEM. He could never articulate just who it was. After about fifteen minutes of feeling genuine concern over the welfare of the man currently pouring out his troubles to me, I asked for his information. Mr. Tomkins* rambled off his information like it was old hat and it was then that it clicked in my mind. Something wasn’t right.

I pulled open his account and there were literally seven hundred and thirteen comments on his account (each one to signify one call) all regarding the “CB Gang” striking again. I then shifted to autopilot and added another note. After he FINALLY hung up, I stood up and looked over my cubicle. Three veteran employees were taking calls and trying not to laugh. It was then that I realized that I had been initiated.

During my time at Shady Cable, I fielded at least four calls from Mr. Tomkins. FOUR! Think about that. In a call center of at least eighty people on varying shifts, I got him four times. After my second call I spoke with a coworker about how to deal with him. Apparently, his hangup triggers were mentioning God and random noises.

The third and fourth calls were short as I would crinkle a plastic bag near the phone and when he shouted “DID YOU HEAR THAT?” my reply was “hear what?” He would then stutter for about twenty seconds before he said he had to go and released the call.

During a meeting with the local branch of Shady Cable, they confirmed the image of Mr. Tompkins I had in my head. He was an older black man with hair the height of Don King, and had a perpetual look of paranoia on his face. One even told me that when a tech went out to check his cable, there was chicken wire around his house with molded tin foil on the tips. I cannot confirm if any of this is true, but I would really like an illustration of this.

I still think about him and wonder if he’s still calling in.

*The name has been changed to cover my ass.*

I Have Conversations With My Mom in My Head

I was tempted to write the following tweet: “It smells like the cologne counter at Macy’s just took a shit at work.”

I haven’t spoken to my mother today, but I seriously just had a conversation with her in my head. Here’s how it went.

“What?! Come on mom. Everybody poops.”
“But they don’t feel the need to tweet about it!”
“… They SHOULD! If it’s funny.”

I should call her.