Too Many Mutha'uckas Uckin' With My Shi'

My weekly statement shi'.

Seriously. Stupid bank. Which (fingers, toes and internal organs crossed) seems stable for the moment.

Then a store at Birch Run Outlets (at which I bought Corey's birthday present and will not name because the boy is a total blog lurker. Hi, Corey!) charged me twice for a large sum of money.

And homie don't play that. Especially when my account had finally been positive for more than 20 minutes.

So I called the number listed on their website. But that was just the customer service for the website...

And the girl gave me the number for the individual outlet store...

And the girl at the individual outlet store told me to call corporate and gave me that number...

And the operator at corporate gave me the name of and transferred me to "Mary Anne," the "only person that handles the credit portion."...

And I got Mary Anne's voicemail...

And then I called my bank back and they had me make a claim and took it off my account and told me to call immediately if it showed back up....

I am still waiting on a call back from Mary Anne.

Plus, when I got home from work, we had a letter from the city (our second this year, woo!) as we get from time to time because our neighbors are asshats. And we have 8 days to cut down several trees. There go my Saturday plans.

Stupid neighbors. "How many mutha'uckas are too many to kill? Mutha'uckas."

In other news: This morning, my phone started vibrating while someone was talking to me and when I finally got back to it, I had two voicemails. From my half-asleep boyfriend:

"Hey babe, I just had a terrible dream that you cheated on me with Bill Maher or Mah-her or whatever, and I don't know why. But if you did, which I don't think you did because it was in Washington D.C., but if you did, he would have to die. And I don't know what the punishment for you would be, but there would be some harsh punishment. I miss you. Bye."

Followed by:

"Also, during my dream, he said he had a Jew nose, smacked some other girl's ass and you gave him your car. So please don't do that. I hate him. I love you, bye."

Seriously.

And then he called back and asked if I got his messages and went on a tangent about what a "pompous bastard" Bill Maher is.

I told him to get ready for work.

"Okay, but don't rail Bill Maher while I'm gone."
"I won't."
"And we're never going to D.C. ever."
"Okay."
"Not even Vermont which is close. Or probably New York either."
"Get dressed."

Do you see? Do you see what it's like to be me?

Reee-dicul0us.

Love,
Katie