11.28.07

okay, now where was i? ah, that's right, accident report.

so i go the next morning at 8am to get the report. and the lady... she can't find it.

really? is this how it's going to be? for real?

she asks me to come back in an hour. cos, you know, alls i gots is time. i come back and she's standing around with a bunch of other people looking at some paper and they're all like, "uh oh, she's back."

so the lady form 8am says to this other lady, i can't find the accident report she needs. it's from friday but it's not there." so this other lady starts looking for it and finds it RIGHT THE FUCK AWAY. and the other girl is all, "oh, i was looking under the 26th! friday was the 23rd! oops."

YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOU WERE LOOKING UNDER TODAY'S DATE WHEN I TOLD YOU IT WAS FRIDAY?! AND BECAUSE YOU'RE AN IDIOT I HAD TO DRIVE ALL THE WAY BACK HERE FOR THE 3RD TIME IN TWO DAYS? this is a perfect example of why i don't own a gun.

so the lady looks at it and it STILL doesn't have an address on it.

heads are going to fucking roll if i have to come back for this report.

she's all, "i'll be right back with an officer."

i'm all, "sure."

an officer comes out and says, "ma'am, i had to go back out to the property because the address doesn't match the scene of the accident."

"right, well i can't help that my address is on the other street. it's...my address. it came with the house."

"well, i had to go make sure you weren't lying."

"..."

"which, you weren't."

"no sir."

"now, what's your name again?"

OH MY EFFIN' BRAIN ANEURYSM. WHAT DOES IT TAKE, PEOPLE?! HOW?! HOW DOES ANYTHING GET DONE AROUND HERE?! IF YOU HAVE EVER HAD TO DEAL WITH THE POLICE AND IT'S RECORDS OFFICE AND THEY WERE ABLE TO HELP YOU AT ALL, THEN THAT IS ALL THE PROOF YOU NEED THAT GOD EXISTS, BECAUSE IT WAS NOT THE POLICE WHO HELPED YOU BUT THE GOOD LORD USING THE POLICE AS HIS PUPPET SO THAT YOU COULD ACTUALLY GET SOME HELP. and obviously i'm not talking about emergency situations, i'm talking about the business office, okay? so don't think i'm a police hater or anything. i don't hate the police.

i hate EVERYBODY.

*****

so i FINALLY get the report and i get out the $3.00 to pay the lady cos they don't give you the report for free, they make you PAY for the mental stress. but the lady looks at me and says, "um, just keep it."

ha! free police report! take that, July! (i'm not paranoid. but you KNOW this is some kind of post-julylian attack. IT IS. SHUT UP.)

so on my way to work i stop at my insurance company's office to ask them what i should do about this. the two ladies at the front of the office go over the report and tell me that i can claim it on my home owner's insurance or i can take it to the dude's (who killed my fence) insurance company and have them pay up cos it was his fault. they suggested the latter since the guy actually had insurance. i said, "okay, so i give this to you?" they said that well, you'll have to do it because we don't do that here.

i stared at them. "really?"

they nodded.

i left wondering what the hell i should do and why isn't my insurance company more helpful?

i go home and call the dude's insurance company, we'll call them Safeway, because that is the name. they are liars and shitheels. i explain my situation to some lady who gives me a claim number and puts me through to someone else. i leave a message because that lady wasn't in.

due to some minor miracle, the lady, we'll call her Unhelpful Liar, calls me back and says that while SHE DOESN'T HAVE A COPY OF THE POLICE REPORT IN FRONT OF HER her records show that someone else (car #2) caused the accident and not the Safeway client who killed my fence. so FENCE KILLER is not responsible for damages even though he did the damage. she tells me i need to call the insurace company of car #2.

so i hang up with her and i'm getting even more angry about all this, but i have to be at work in 10 minutes so i leave everything and go to work all steamed up.

at lunchtime i go home and i'm trying to choke down a sandwich but i'm so mad and my stomach is one big knot. so i call my insurance office and ask them for a number for Auto-owners insurance because i could not find a number for them in the phone book and that's the insurance of car #2's driver. they give me the number and i go back and re-read the police report before i call this other insurance place.

i notice that it says that car #1 hit car #2. what this means is that THE SAFEWAY INSURANCE LADY TOTALLY LIED TO ME. her client IS responsible. so guess what? i had my brain on earler that morning and i had written down her name, number, extension, AND had the claim number written down. i called the Unhelpful Liar and OF COURSE i get voice mail. i left her a message, i did. it was polite, mind. but i told her that ACCORDING TO THE POLICE REPORT her client hit the other car and then crashed into my property. that means your client is at fault. would you please call me back so we can figure out what to do next?

it's been two days and the Unhelpful Liar has not called me back.

i'm not surprised either.

i talked to my friend jan about the whole thing and she said i should go back to my insurance place and tell them to take care of it because it's their job. why do i pay them tons of money every year if not to take care of shit like this? good point.

today i went to paint in southside and i didn't want to fool with any of this bullshit. i wanted a day off from bullshit. but apparently dad was up for some bullshit. when i got home this evening he came over and was all, "i went to the insurance office after work."

we use the same insurance place. i was using them for my homeowner's policy and then my auto stuff and i was so happy with the lady who helped me that i told anyone who would listen to me about how awesome she is. dad switched his auto over to them and HE ALSO loved the Awesome Lady. then Flippy got in on the action and she now knows just how awesome the Awesome Lady is.

"oh no! what happened?"

"nothing. i went to talk to Awesome Lady about your problem."

"oh. you got to see Awesome Lady? i got stuck with two blondes-"

"listen, she was PISSED when she found out that the two boneheads up front told you that they didn't handle claims FOR THEIR OWN CLIENTS. not kidding. she hit the roof."

"really? so she can help me? i was going to call her and beg her for help, but i just didn't want to even think about this junk today."

"go and see her tomorrow morning. she'll take care of it."

i hope Awesome Lady kicks some ass over there, because i've been sweating this shit for days thinking i'm gonna have to get a lawyer to get anything done on this and believe you me, i don't want to sue anyone. i don't want to hire a lawyer. i don't want the world with a fence around it...i just want my shit fixed so i can sell the damn house and be done with it!

stay tuned...

11.26.07

you guys aren't going to believe this.

i go to the city hall today to get a copy of the accident report about the crash that destroyed my property, right? so i go in and first of all there's no obvious sign of where the hell to go to get copies of police reports. and? there's no helpful information desk where you can ask someone where you're supposed go for...anything. there's just elevators. very unhelpful elevators.

but there was this lady sitting on a bench. and she obviously did not work there. in fact, she may have been homeless and sitting there to be inside a warm building. so i go up to her and say, "excuse me? you wouldn't happen to know where to go to get a copy of a poilce report wouldja?"

she says, "yeah, go out those doors, down those stairs and you'll see another set of doors. that's where you go. are you getting a warrant for someone?"

"a what? um, no. no. i just need a copy of a report. an accident report, i think."

"i'm getting a warrant. that's what i'm waitin' on."

"oh. er...good luck? thanks for the help."

and there i go, back outside, down the most unkempt staircase and around what was at one time a pond with fountain, but is now an empty blue thing, and into a police building. a ha! progress!

not.

i go in and talk to the police guy who always hits on me at the grocery store. i'm not the only one he flirts with. he pretty much talks to girls who are alive, i think. i don't like him. he's weird. but he shows me where to go. so i go and i talk to a lady about the report and she finds the report and gives it to me and i go and file it with my insurance and they gave me a sack of money and everything is fixed and awesome!

not. what dream world are you living in?

so she looks at the report and says, "your name isn't on here. and neither is the address of the house that was damaged."

"well, that's probably because no one called me to tell me anything had happened to my property. but, i can tell you, my name is Jaimie Jones and the address is 1101 6th ave."

"there's a note here saying that your house doesn't have a number on it."

"that's because the number is on the mailbox which is on the end of the other driveway. it's a corner lot."

"i'm gonna have to ask someone about this."

"great."

a few minutes later she comes back.

"i'm going to have to give this back to the officer who made out the report so he can put your name and address on it. then i'll make you a copy of it."

"okay. and here, i'm gonna give my phone number too, just in case, and also? i have to go to work now, so i'll just pick this up tomorrow morning. do you think this will be done by tomorrow morning?"

"oh sure."

"great. i'll see you in the morning."

so i still don't have a copy of the report. so i still don't know what the hell i'm supposed to do next. and i'm completely blown away that a fucking policeman couldn't figure out what my fucking address was. and now i'm way more pissed at the cops than i am at the douchebagging vomit bladder who killed my deck and fence.

i've always respected the police. i think they are grossly underpaid for doing the dangerous job that they do. but today? today i have nothing nice to say.

11.24.07

hey laura, i finally updated AND archived the dribblings for july - september.

oh! and you guys! i've totally read 50 books! i just haven't updated that part of the site yet because i read those books back in october and now it seems kinda meh to update it. it was the james patterson Women's Murder Club series. i wanted to read them cos i watched the tv show. the books are different than the show, but it worked out awesomely cos there are 6 books in the series (so far. book 7 is due out in Feb. for all you book nerds out there.) and i was on #44 on my fiddy list. so those 6 books knocked it out! take that, 50 books! TATDOW!

wow. so lemme tell you the LATEST in the Continuing Saga of Constant Random Shit That Gets Slung at Jaimie All the Damn Time.

sometime yesterday morning a car accident of sorts occurred at the intersection of Chestnut and S.11th ending with a car crashing into my driveway taking out a part of my deck, a fence post, flattening part of my fence, and crushing Roxy Rockstar's dog house.

i'm thankful (Thanksgiving! yay!) that we don't live there anymore because if we had been at home when it happened our cars would have been totaled... or at least royally farked.

no one involved in the accident nor the police have contacted me about this destruction to my property. how did i find out about this? my real estate agent called me. how did she find out about this? CRAZY MARGARET CALLED HER.

i know.

i know!

Crazy Margaret doesn't even own a phone. and yet. she's the one who notices the real estate sign with a phone number on it in the yard.

so the call from the estate agent went like this:

REA: hi jaimie.

Me: hey, how are you?

REA: fine. listen. you know that crazy lady on the bike?

Me: Crazy Margaret? WHY? WHAT DID SHE DO?

REA: she called me.

Me: oh shit.

REA: she said there was a high-speed car chase in your old neighborhood and a car crashed into your house.

Me: um... this is a joke, right? a hoax?

REA: no. i think she was serious. i would ride out there and check it out but i'm on my way to my family's house for thanksgiving.

Me: right. okay. so. i'm going to go. to the house. and check out what the hell is going on. um, and i guess uh, will the police call me? or something? shouldn't someone get in touch with me? about this? because no one has called me about this.

REA: i don't know. i would assume so.

Me: it's just that, if Crazy fucking Margaret can track me down... wouldn't you think, oh i don't know, THE POLICE would have tracked me down by now?!

REA: i don't know.

Me: right. well anyway, have a great thanksgiving! i'll get back to you on the house, okay?

REA: good luck.

Me: thanks.

i'm still not sure what actually happened because the skid marks in the street and in my driveway make no sense. also, the police never called. also also, the piece of shit who crashed into my place has not called.

mom called the police station and asked what was what. they said it was not a car chase at all, but that the power was out and the street lights were not working and that caused an accident and that i can pick up the accident report on monday. so i'm in limbo till then.

in better news:

this afternoon liznchris came over, and chris brought a chainsaw, and he cut down a couple of trees that were too close to our house. it was awesome. we have the best friends. ever! admit it! you're jealous of how awesome our friends are! heck, i've even got Crazy Margaret watching my back.

11.22.07

Happy Thanksgiving!

i so hate using notepad to update this thing. i hate it so bad you don't even know. so if any of you clever fleegans know of an easy to use HTML editor (erm, a free one.) lemme know.

i haven't updated in approximately 3 years because of

A. the move

B. the tuberculosis

C. the evil lung demons that STILL inhabit my lungs even after 2 weeks of medicine, an actual doctor, chicken noodle soup, Ricola, prayers, virgin sacrifices, voodoo, Foxfire poultices (poultices? poulticii?), curses, swears, teas, Mucinex, antibiotics, chocolate covered raisins (it was a stretch, but i'm willing to try anything at this point), dragonsbane, that stuff that was in that envelope that Mrs. Brisby got for Timmy in the Secret of NIMH, i've mentioned soup, menthol, hydrocodone...which made me vomit...which was kind of like kicking me while i was already down...which is an asshole thing to do, bathing, not bathing, sitting up to try to sleep, failing miserably, watching approximately 900 episodes of Law & Order, passing out, waking up all sweaty and gross and puzzled because you thought you were at work, but no, apparently you weren't at work...you were tangled up in a blanket four feet from the couch and missing an episode of Law & Order.

i'm still hacking like i've got consumption, but no fever or nose blowing or sneezing or sore throat. just the cough. The Cough of 1000 Years.

i even went to the doctor! twice! and i don't go to the doctor. heck, i don't get sick.

but this time i got sick. so this time i went to the doctor.

the first time i went to the doctor was for a HORRIBLE sore throat i had. and since i work at the library i thought it would be a good idea to go to the doctor to make sure i didn't have strep throat so's not to infect my coworkers, not so much the patrons cos let's face it, it was probably germs for one of the snot-nosed kids from work that got me sick in the first place.

so i go to the doc and it's a new doc. she's really nice. she's kinda young, and bonus! my frined fellykish works there so i can get in to see her lickety-split. but you know me, it's never THAT easy with me.

the doc comes in to swab my throat, right? and i warn her that i may puke on her cos i have a wicked gag reflex. i tell her that i even gag when i brush my teeth. she says it's okay, i can puke on her. so okay, i'm ready to puke on her. go.

she comes at me with the swab and i move my head away. SORRY! i say to her. okay now i'm ready!

she comes at me again, and again i dodge. oops. heh. sorry. gut-reaction i guess. i won't move this time.

this time she manages to get the swab in my mouth and i pull away. shit. sorry. i'm not doing this on purpose i swear. i'm so sorry!

now she's ready for me. she grabs the back of my head so i won't move my head and she comes at me with the swab. using my left hand i grab her arm and hold her arm back so she can't swab me. realizing that i'm actually manhandling the doctor i let go of her arm and apologize again saying that i didn't mean to grab her arm, it was a reaction, i swear, i don't normally assault the doctor, honest.

she was nice about the whole thing, and needless to say she could not do a rapid strep test.

she assigned me some drugs and said to come back if i wasn't better in a few days.

right. like i can ever show my face back there again.

a few days later my throat is just fine, but i'm coughing like an old lunger coal miner. i tried several over the counter cough syrups and nothing worked. for days! DAYS. i was "sleeping" on the couch at night so at least jimmy could get some sleep. about a week into the cough fellykish calls me to see how i'm doing and she's all, "get in here to see the doctor, NOW!" and i say, "i can't! last time i was there i assaulted her! she probably hates me!"

she assured me the doc didn't hate me but i wasn't brave enough to go.

a couple of days later my cough was so evil that i was throwing up when i coughed. i had no choice but to eat crow and call the doc. i figured my pal would answer the phone when i called, but i'll be damned if the doc herself didn't answer the phone. how often does this happen?! NEVER. so in my very hoarse voice i ask for an appointment. she's all, "have you ever been here before?"

i'm all, sigh, "yes, ma'am. it's jaimie pickle."

"Jaimie?! is that you?!"

"yes ma'am."

"my god, you sound terrible! get in here now!"

the doc was very nice since i was so sick, but when i was in the exam room i could hear her in the hall talking to fellykish. she said, "is that jaimie in exam 1?...call the police i'm going to have her arrested for assault."

ha ha. even my doc is funny. err'body i know is funny. so she gives me some cough syrup and a 'script for some nighttime cough syrup and i'm good to go. like i mentioned before, the one syrup made me hurl my guts out...but not before i thought i was going to die first. i was on the couch and suddenly i had the chills. i was shaking so hard my teeth kept clicking. i was so cold and i was covered in blankets and the heat was on and this whole time i've not had a fever so i thought, hmm, maybe i'm having a reaction. then my arms went kinda numb. then my face was numb. then i knew. i knew i was going to puke. so i did. and then i felt better. still though with the coughing.

i was coughing so hard i was hurling up all this clear junk. i was talking to cookie on the phone when i got another cough attack. i was all, "hakhakahkakahkakkkaakahhaak i gotta go bye." and i ran out on the front porch (cos it was closer than the bathroom) and i hurled over the side. AT THAT EXACT MOMENT my dad pulls up in the driveway.

"jaimie? what are you doing?"

"dying, dad. i'm dying."

"did you just puke?" he asks as the drool keeps pouring out of my mouth.

"yeah. it's one of those days, dad."

"maybe you should go back to the doctor."

"i did. this morning."

"she give you anything?"

"yeah. it made me throw up."

"damn. sucks to be you."

my cough is still hanging around, but i'm so very thankful that i'm not hurling anymore. i haven't been painting cos i'm still not up to par. i can't even walk very far before i start wheezing. i sound asthmatic. and if i breathe remotely deep i have a coughing fit. but! i am sleeping! ha! take that, cough! and the past two days i've actually left the house. so you know i'm getting better. plus, i'm updating this lousy website! in notepad! i even knitted a couple of rows today! maybe next week i'll be back to painting. i'm already weeks behind. i want to paint because i need the moolah, but honestly? i just want to lay on the couch with a ton of blankets and watch Law & Order.

11.04.07

i'm not dead. yet. but the computer is still being a scheißekopf. and we've been working on the houses. and we've been working at our jobs. and this week we are moving.

i know. me too.

this whine is just to let you know that i will not be blogging here for at least another week. i'm really sorry, yo. but the 'puter will be in a box in a room that's never seen the internet before.

yes, we're moving to your grandma's house.

so give me another week and some change and i promise things will be back to normal here at fleegan.com.

which means back to spotty posting about the asinine.

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