How Not To Get Shanked By Your Client’s Gangster Daughter and More Ridiculous Tales From The Signing Table

Posted in Working for a living, WTF? with tags , , , , on August 16, 2009 by JustJennyRebecca

It has really been a rough week. I know the world is full of crazy people, but I didn’t realize that I would be meeting them all. Sometimes they are funny. Sometimes they are scary. Sometimes they are eccentric. More often than not they are just plain stupid.

Take for instance the client who works for a major, MAJOR lender. Not only does this client work for the lender, but he’s really high up the food chain. Client refinances house. I show up at house at specified time. Client doesn’t have any identification. Why does this keep happening? People: This is America-Post-9/11! My dog can’t take a piss in the local Bark Park without a god damned license so why the hell do you think you can refinance your house without one? I realize there are many reasons why some people don’t have drivers licenses, I get that. I, technically, didn’t know how to drive until I was 25. But you can bet your sweet ass I had an Arizona ID the day I turned 16. It’s common sense. How do you cash checks? Have any type of bank account? Have a job? Buy adult beverages? Cigarettes? How do you survive? And if you DO manage to get by without any of the above, then A) you most likely have a miserable life and B) you certainly do not own your home. No one in this country owns a home without having had some type of ID, authentic or otherwise, when they purchased said home. Fact.

My client thought that since he worked for the lender his employee ID would suffice. Sure, I can accept that. Or your library card, Costco card, Friends of Josh Groban membership card. Whatever, I’m easy. It’s just a job, after all. In the end the client ended up finding 2 witnesses to verify his identity. Unfortunately the witnesses came over with 6 untamed children, for a total of NINE untamed children, running around destroying the house while we completed the signing. That evening required heavy alcohol consumption. Thankfully I have an ID.

My next fabulous signing was with a very lovely couple. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at all. We sat down, everyone had ID, they understood their paperwork because, for a change, their loan officer had actually done his job correctly so there were no surprises. About halfway through the signing, I felt something brush my toes so I moved my foot a little, assuming it was a cat. Then something brushed BOTH my feet, but this time it was so startling that I actually kicked my foot a little. It was just a reaction, I didn’t do it to be vicious for god’s sake but allegedly I kicked a bunny rabbit across the kitchen. Allegedly. A bunny rabbit. Roaming the house all willy nilly. There were several rabbits. What the eff are bunnie rabbits doing roaming the house? And why in God’s name would you not alert your visitors to the potential threat of bunnies nibbling their toes? Maybe I’m allergic. Maybe I’m phobic. Maybe I was mauled by a vicious, bucktoothed jackrabbit as a child which would illicit the football punt reaction that occurred. This is exactly what the bunny looked like. I’m not kidding:

Vicious effing bunny

Vicious effing bunny

Needless to say my clients were mildly horrified and yet apologetic at the same time. I felt really, really bad, but cage your vicious bunnies. And your snakes, lizards and birds, too. Don’t even get me started on the birds…

My last unfortunate appointment of the week occurred Thursday. It was enough to make me want to never do another signing again. Ever. I arrived at an appointment, in a less than desirable neighborhood, and knocked on the door. I could hear girls/women talking and I could hear the TV. No one answered. I rang the bell. I knocked some more. I could still hear the TV and women talking and laughing. I called the number on my order sheet. I could hear the damn phone ringing from inside the house BUT NO ONE WOULD ANSWER IT. I am persistent though, so I waited in my car for a few minutes, in case my client wasn’t home and had just left the TV on, although I definitely heard talking and laughing. I went back to the door about 10 minutes later and continued ringing the bell, knocking, and calling.

After a total of 22 minutes, TWENTY TWO, the door swung open. Standing just beyond the swing area of the door was a girl. A woman? I don’t know – late teens or early 20’s. She looked like a gangster. She was standing like a soldier “at ease” with her hands behind her back, as if clutching something. Something like a shank. Or a gun. Or a meat cleaver. But what was even more strange was that she had her head cocked to one side and she was just staring at me, with a calm yet homicidal look on her face. Immediately I had a feeling that my client was stuffed in a freezer in the back of the house or bound and gagged and tied to a chair. I hate that feeling.

Gangster Girl continued to stare for what seemed a long time, saying nothing. So I asked if my client was home and said that I had a 5 pm appointment with her. Gangster Girl slowly, and I mean VERY slowly, cocked her head to the other side and STILL SAID NOTHING. Creepy effing bitch. She very much reminded me of Dollface in The Strangers. You know, this one:

Gemma Ward as Dollface in "The Strangers" aka My client's gangster daughter.

Gemma Ward as Dollface in "The Strangers" aka My client's gangster daughter.

After an insanely long time she said “No one is home” and slowly cocked her head to the other side again. Okay, so it was a little creepy because I had a very bad vibe the whole time and technically I should have given her my business card, etc., but there was no fucking way I was giving Gangster Dollface my personal information. Not a chance in hell! I walked quite swiftly to my car and left and do you know what? She still just stood there. I don’t even know if she was my client’s daughter, but if she WAS the daughter then she needs a serious, SER.I.OUS ass-whooping.

This is why I hate my job. And I certainly don’t get paid enough!

**disclaimer: Yes, I am still very thankful that I at least have a job.


If I Had Josh Groban’s Ear…

Posted in Beautiful Music, WTF? with tags , , , on August 11, 2009 by JustJennyRebecca

Well, I’d probably be in jail because no one would believe that Mr. Groban pulled a Van Gogh and offered his ear to me as a token of his appreciation for the mind-blowing mattress mambo we had the night before, but that’s not exactly what I meant.

I am just a fan and as such I wait patiently for each album, each tour, so I can experience his voice in all its glory, but, BUT in between the albums and the tours I get a little bored. I am only human. So of course I was thrilled when Chess was released on DVD, and PBS of course, but on the DVD there were no annoying bleeps where the word “shit” should’ve been. Good grief. How horrifying, hearing the word “shit”. Shit Shit Shit! I digress… He did really good on stage and of course musically he was fantastic, the entire cast was, but it got me thinking of other roles that he would be great for and he could do these roles in between the albums that seem to take FOREVER to make. Patience is not a virtue I possess. What exactly is a virtue?

Role #1, the obvious choice, Fiyero in Wicked. Check out this behind the scene clip of Kevin Kern, currently playing Fiyero on Broadway, courtesy of

The Wonderful World of Wicked: Kevin Kern is Fiyero.

I don’t know about the riding pants… Josh, how DOES your ass look in riding pants? Show me.

Role #2, which isn’t actually a role per se, but it’s Off-Broadway sort of, okay it’s comedy or “fringe” as some would call it. Josh is kinda funny but I don’t think the masses really get to see that because a lot of people just focus on ribbing the guy for his David Foster-esque “Popera” label. Anyhoo, This group is currently at 45 Bleecker Street, which may be a better choice for “someone” if he just wants to “establish” himself, the old fashioned way, and work on stage presence or whatever I have no idea, just work with me here, I really am going somewhere with this. Check out this clip, courtesy of Foster Entertainment. And FYI there’s a better clip at POTP’s website but I couldn’t link it correctly. Shut up, I’m still learning me some IT skills.

Josh – you can get audition info at their website. Or just Twitter them. Or just forward your audition video to me.

And do you know what would be even awesomer? If Mr. Groban added some type of musical component to his “origami” it would bring new meaning to the phrase “Rock out with your cock out”. Although technically for him it would be “pop out with your cock out”, but that just doesn’t have the same flow now does it?

Other than stage roles Mr. Groban could surprise us with an appearance on, oh I don’t know, maybe Saturday Night Live? C’mon Lorne! I know there are myriad people way smarter and Way.More.Funnier. than moi, but there are some glaring obvious choices for skits including JGro.

Glaring Obvious Choice #1 – American Idol Skit. Admittedly, the show may be dead now with the exit of the beloved Miss Paula Abdul, but if it’s still got 1 more season then clearly Groban could do a skit where A) he’s a guest judge and goes all asshole on some poor contestant auditioning with a classic Groban song, like the much slaughtered “You Raise Me Up” or B) JGro could BE a contestant (albeit a very “sensitive” yet flamboyantly dressed one) singing Per.Fect.Ly, one of his own songs duh, and then the judges could go all asshole on HIM and then JGro could throw a hissy-fit during the requisite Seacrest “Exit Interview”.

Glaring Obvious Choice #2 – Richard Simmons Skit. You’ve seen the commercials Richard does for the yogurt, right? And if you’re way fucking younger than I am and can’t remember the exercise videos then you can go to hell. I mean here’s a little nugget for you. You’re welcome.

Let’s face it, based on looks (or hair) alone if he’s not careful, this could be JGro in 30-40 years. Skit A) a parody on the yogurt commercial just because Groban doesn’t seem to take himself too seriously (did you see him on “Nevermind the Buzzcocks” on the BBC? ROTFL!)or Skit B) a parody on Sweatin’ to the Oldies now called “Sweatin’ with the Grobies”. Oh yes, I said it. No offense Grobies, but it IS a tad funny. And if you didn’t watch that last clip and LOL when you pictured Josh Groban front and center then you are clearly the walking dead. A zombie. Just sayin.

I know people, I KNOW. Someone should be paying me for these ideas because they are the awesomest ideas e-ver. FACT.

Ohmygod. I think I took cancer dog’s narcotics this morning instead of my thyroid meds. Shit. The bottles look the same. So do the pills. Shit.

I Stole This from “The Bloggess”

Posted in Blogging on August 3, 2009 by JustJennyRebecca
From one Jenny to another, thank you Bloggess!

Basic Training

Posted in Elphaba the Wicked of Oz, Soft Coated Wheaten Terrier on August 2, 2009 by JustJennyRebecca

Effie and I have been going to “basic training” for four weeks now. We are failing. Miserably. Both of us. In my defense, Old Man Fluke was diagnosed with cancer and Ero came into our lives in the same week that we started “Basic”, so we were a bit distracted the first couple classes. But I really thought that by now we’d be working together as team like Starsky & Hutch or Brad & Angolina. Nope. We’re Jon & Kate. And I’m Jon, the pussy.

Apparently I am “enabling” Effie. According to our trainer, and I’ll use that term loosely, Effie 1) has severe separation anxiety, 2) is afraid of strangers except when on her home turf, and 3) is dominant and treats me, my house and everything in it as “hers”. I disagree. Strongly disagree.

Stupid Observation #1: Effie does NOT suffer from separation anxiety. She does not cry when I leave, or stand at the door waiting for my return. I can hand her leash to anyone when we go to the coffee shop or wherever, so I can go inside and order and she doesn’t freak out or anything. I swear. She may follow me with her eyes, but heeeeellloooo – I frequently supply her with canine crack so of course she watches me. Intently. And, might I add that our trainer is a man, a “strange” man, who hasn’t ever been to our house or the park with us and he thinks he’s going to just walk over, grab her leash and walk away with her, to demonstrate a “technique”? Ummmm, I don’t think so. “Stranger danger”, ever heard of that?

Stupid Observation #2: Effie isn’t afraid of anyone. She may dislike certain people, who doesn’t? Wait a minute, come to think of it… Effie doesn’t dislike anyone. Except the trainer. She’s a WHEATEN TERRIER! She’s never met anyone that she didn’t fall madly in love with instantaneously. She greets each and every person she meets at the dog park, the pet store, the vet, the coffee shop, at our front door or on a walk in the ‘hood with the same “Wheaten Greetin” that goes something like this:      “ohmygod! ohmygod! ohmygod! Iloveyou! Iloveyou! Iloveyou! I can’t believe you’re really here, to see me and only me, to play with me and only me! ohmygod! ohmygod! ohmygod! Iloveyou! Iloveyou! Iloveyou! Can I lick your ear? Oh pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease let me lick your ear. Or nibble, just a nibble? It reallyreallyreallyreallyreally needs to be nibbled. I can nibble that for you!  ….SQUIRREL!…. Wait… What?    Ohmygod! ohmygod! ohmygod! Iloveyou! Iloveyou! Iloveyou! I can’t believe you’re really here…” And so on and so forth and such as. Keep in mind that this conversation is going on while the 40 pound Wheaten is pogo-ing 6 feet in the air. She will nibble on that ear. It’s endearing.

Stupid Observation #3: Effie is not dominant. She is the first dog at the park to roll on her back and let everyone sniff her. If someone goes for her squeeky, rope, ball or bone she just lets them have it. She may pout for an hour, and she may quietly follow you around until the perfect opportunity to steal it back presents itself, but she’ll let you take it. And for the record, Mr. Petsmart Trainer, I like it when she sits on my feet. It’s cute. It’s funny. She sits on everyone’s feet. She sits on my daughter’s feet. She sits on both of our other dogs. It’s. Just. Funny. It doesn’t mean she has “dominance issues”. And if anyone out there disagrees, just keep it to yourself, okay pumpkins?

Well, my goodness… To make a short story long we are failing that damn class miserably. Effie dislikes the trainer so much that she wants to know where he is at all times so that he can’t sneak up on her. Which he tries to do. She doesn’t recall. She doesn’t walk on the leash – she lunges, right and left and back and forth with amazing gusto. She sits beautifully, but with a verbal command as opposed to the hand signal I was supposed to teach her. She doesn’t even want the treats that I use to bribe her because she’s focused so intently on the trainer. These classes may be doing more harm than good. She’s quirky, that Effie. And I love her madly just the way she is.

More Ridiculous Tales from the Signing Table

Posted in Working for a living, WTF? on July 26, 2009 by JustJennyRebecca

People amaze me. Sometimes they shock me. And occasionally there’s just good old fashioned disgust. The things I have seen, heard and smelled while signing loans is just ridiculous. Here are some highlights:

1) Captain Underpants – I arrived at an appointment 3 weeks ago and a lovely young woman with a baby on her hip answered the door. She showed me to the kitchen table and out walked her octogenarian mother. Maybe her grandmother. I have no idea. All I could focus on was this old woman in a t-shirt and underpants. She sat down right next to me, in her underpants, and signed her loan. The lovely younger woman didn’t say a word. In fact, she left me there in the kitchen, alone, with a crazy lady in effing underpants! What is wrong with people? How about, “Hey granny, it’s a little chilly, how about a blanket?” Another approach would have been, “Holy Mother Mary Jesus Fucking Christ! Go back in your room and put some fucking pants on! There’s a stranger in the house!” The possibilities of what could have been said are quite endless.

2) The Maggot Kingdom – This was the day I realized that I was NOT, in fact, the worst housekeeper in the universe. It almost made me feel better about myself. Almost. It also made me want to vomit. I arrived at a client’s house on a Monday morning. The woman showed me to the kitchen table. I noticed a smell. Not a mildly funky what-died-in-the-fridge kind of smell. No, no, no, it was more like the stench-of-rotting-flesh-wafting-up-from-the-basement-where-all-the-corpses-were-being-kept kind of smell. I know that’s pretty specific, but this was a very specific smell.

I also noticed the woman’s daughter sweeping the far side of the kitchen. Sweeping feverishly. So feverishly in fact that I thought she was a little wacko. I would like to point out that I am vision impaired. Not blind just vain, so I don’t wear my glasses except in darkened movie theaters or while driving because I can’t afford any more tickets or accidents (see previous posts). Had I not been so vain I would have noticed the kitchen floor moving and the psycho-sweeping was due to the fact that the floor was covered with MAGGOTS. MAGGOTS. MAGGOTS.

I politely picked up my bag and my purse, checked them for MOTHER FUCKING MAGGOTS and set them on the table. I also politely stomped my feet a couple times and rested them on the bar that ran between my chair legs. The mother explained to me that they had a family emergency on Friday and left the house without taking out the garbage. When they arrived home Sunday the MOTHER FUCKING MAGGOTS had taken over the kitchen. I was certainly in no position to CSI her story, but I can Google “life cycle of a fly” as good as the next person and I’m pretty sure that since the MFM’s (I affectionately call them that now) were no longer moving around in a mass, they were just going willy-nilly in all directions, they were at least 4, probably 5 or 6 days old… I could be wrong, but don’t contradict or correct me because this is my MFM story!

3) Crazy Cat Man – It’s usually a “crazy cat lady”. I don’t know why that is, but stereotypically it’s always a woman so I was shocked when the single man I was signing opened the door and immediately my eyes began to water and burn and my nose started to run. The stench of multiple cats is unmistakable. It smelled like 87 cats trapped in a garage with no ventilation. It looked like it smelled and the man was a pack-rat. There were no chairs, no table to sign the papers on, no counter available. Every square inch of space had something on it and that something was then covered in cat hair and feces. All the shit was covered in, well, shit. And urine. And hair. In his defense, I did arrive 10 whole minutes early. Maybe he was just about to clean when I knocked on the door. Bah ha ha ha ha!!! By the time I left that house I was covered in hives, coughing, sneezing and continued to itch for the rest of the day.

Have I said that I love my job? No? Well, I’m thankful I have a job. How’s that?

House of Horrors aka: Banfield Pet Hospital

Posted in I hate this Vet! on July 19, 2009 by JustJennyRebecca

I have blogged before about my Wheaten Terrier, Effie, and her medical issues earlier on in her life. Now I am faced with cancer in my 12 year old Shepherd Mix, Fluke. He’s actually my daughter’s dog. She picked him out at the pound 11 years ago, when the pound was still called “the pound”. She named him. She dressed him up in pink tutus and pearl necklaces and painted his “toenails” and he never once complained or nipped or ran away from her. I even had portraits done of Fluke and Kenzie when they were both toddlers. If I wasn’t so technologically challenged I would scan that picture for this blog, but there isn’t enough booze in my house to get me through that.

But I digress… This post isn’t about Fluke’s cancer or the love between a girl and her dog. This blog is about the complete and utter disgust I have for my current vet, Banfield (at Petsmart). About a year ago something happened that should’ve gotten my attention. But I wasn’t listening to that little nagging voice inside my head and then life happened and I forgot about that nagging voice. So, I will take the blame for the past and focus on how to educate and inform others about the true nature of Banfield. Here’s my story:

The first incident, that I ignored, happened when I had to take Effie to the ER Vet in the middle of the night. She had been seen multiple times before by her Banfield vet for a high temp, vomiting and dehydration and they took x-rays of her stomach. The ER Vet wanted to see the Banfield x-rays to compare to the x-rays he had taken. The ER staff called Banfield numerous times to ask for the x-rays but Banfield would not return their calls. As soon as the ER told me, I called Banfield and they said I would have to come down and pay $40 for a copy. I paid for the x-rays, did I not? To be exact, after my “Optimum Wellness Plan (OWP)” discount, I paid $188.08 for the damn x-ray and now I have to pay $40 to get a copy? What about standard of care? What about the health and welfare of the pet coming first? If my vet isn’t open at 2 a.m. and I have to take my pet to the ER and said pet is so ill that she can’t be released for 3 days, shouldn’t my regular vet give me copies of whatever the fuck I want because I already paid handsomely for it? I think so, but that’s just me. The same vet tech that charged me the $40 had the nerve to ask me for a copy of the ER x-ray so that Effie’s files would be “complete”. I told her it would cost them $40. Incidently, the ER vet did not charge me to make that copy.

Incident number two: I had done a lot of research on dog vaccination and decided that I only wanted Fluke and Effie to have the core vaccines. The Banfield vet tech tried to talk me into the non-core vaccines and I still declined so then she made a rude comment to the actual vet who then asked me “what exactly my issue was with the non-core vaccines”. I told her what I had read, from the AVMA website, and she rolled her eyes. People, I can throw down if I have to. I love my dogs like they were my children and since I have a human child I actually know what that love feels like.

Incident 3: When you go in for vaccines, Banfield tells you that many vaccines cause an allergic reaction but they can give your beloved pet some Benedryl prior to the vaccine to ward off the reaction. The Benedryl is only an additional $12 dollars. Do you know that a bottle of generic Benedryl from Wal-mart or Walgreens or ANYWHERE ON THE DAMN PLANET is $4 and lasts my 80 pound dog about 4 months because he has actual allergies, but has never suffered from so-called “vaccine allergies”. Do they even exist, or is that bullshit, too?

Incident 4: Fluke went in for his last comprehensive exam. He’s old and prefers not to be poked. The vet tech called the day before and asked if I could just drop him off because they were very busy the next day and I didn’t see anything wrong with it so I dropped him off. After I picked him up and got home I looked at the receipt and saw that they had charged me for “extra restraints”, which prompted me to look at ALL of my receipts for the last few years. Every “drop-off” visit for Fluke and Effie had charges for these “extra restraints” totaling a few hundred dollars. As of Saturday, I have called 47 vets in the Phoenix Metro Area and given them this hypothetical scenario:

Me: “I bring my 80 pound Shepherd to you and he doesn’t want you to invade his rear end for a fecal exam. He’s not mean or nipping, he just wants to hide his tush from you. You have to get another tech in the room to help hold him. How much do you charge for that?”

Vet’s Office: “For what?”

Me: “Extra restraints, or an extra tech to help hold him.”

Vet’s office: laughter… “That’s our job. We don’t charge extra for that.”

This was the same basic response 47 fucking times in a row! Sometimes there was giggling, sometimes there were comments like “You go to Banfield, don’t you?”

Where are the reviews for Banfield? Is someone going around Al Gore’s Intranet deleting negative reviews of Banfield Pet Hospitals? Is this a professional gig, like “Bad Review Deleter”? How come I didn’t hear about these things until it was too late? I’m sure, if I had the finances to do so, I could prove that Fluke’s cancer is a result of some bullshit something-or-other they gave him that was unnecessary or questionable. Now that I am actively seeking reviews about Banfield, here’s what I have found out:

1) They don’t seem to be licensed by the American Animal Hospital Association.

2) Their employees are apparently paid bonuses, i.e: commission, for “upselling” products and services.

3) The actual vets have a reputation for being “bottom of the barrel” or “last in class” or else they would be in private practice.

4) If your pet dies, and you have enrolled in Banfield’s OWP, you have to pay the remainder of your monthly fees OR reimburse Banfield for any “cost savings” over the term of the plan. EVEN IF YOUR PET DIES. Let me repeat that… EVEN IF YOUR PET DIES and doesn’t, therefore, need vaccines or a wellness plan anymore, you still have to pay. That’s in the fine print that I didn’t read.

Dissertation is over, my dog still has cancer but I’m getting a second opinion tomorrow on the treatment. I bet you $40 that Banfield charges me $40 for a copy of the needle biopsy results. Wouldn’t surprise me at all.

You know what they say about pineapple…

Posted in WTF? on July 18, 2009 by JustJennyRebecca

There are a lot of myths surrounding pineapple. It’s said to induce labor, it’s said to burn fat and who hasn’t heard the myth that eating pineapple will make a man “taste” better? C’mon, you’ve heard that! So, two things got me thinking about this recently. First, Josh Groban tweeted something about eating dried pineapple. I know, I know, I’m ashamed to admit it but I do follow JGro on Twitter. I just cant help myself. He’s sooooo sexy in a dorky kind of way.

The second thing that got me thinking about pineapple and the belief that it makes men taste sweeter was something I witnessed while I was waiting for a client the other day. I was meeting a client at her work, which happened to be a grocery store. There was a Starbucks inside so I got a Frappacino Light and pulled up a chair to wait for my client. I was in prime people watching position. As I waited for my client I observed a homeless man enter the store. Now, I don’t mean to stereotype anybody so let me explain that I didn’t think he was homeless because of the way he was groomed or dressed, although that was evidence enough. I surmised his homelessness based on the cardboard sign that he placed in his grocery cart. See, I am not mean.

So, this homeless guy pushes his cart past me toward the produce section. I continue drinking my coffee and Tweeting (or “twatting” if you prefer Stephen Colbert’s vernacular) and 2 minutes later he rushes past me with his cart piled high with fresh pineapple. There had to be at least 15 pineapples in there. I shit you not! As this guy walks past the greeter, because Wal-mart started a trend and now all grocery stores have to have a friggin’ greeter, the greeter says, “wow, that’s a lot of pineapple!” Homeless guy gets a HUGE grin on his face and says, “Yep, I got a hot date this weekend” and proceeds to the checkout lane. That’s. Just. Gross. But I suppose homeless people need oral sex, too.

So that is why I decided to see what type of evidence I could find to support the pineapple myth. I googled “pineapple+semen” and a bazillion entries popped up. Most were crap, none were scientific. The only sort-of-but-not-really reliable source I could find was Donald Zimmer, the Sex Health Advisor for and he said:

“While there are no studies to support it, it is generally received that kiwi, celery, pineapple, and watermelon can all make semen taste lighter. Heavy beer and coffee drinkers are said to produce bitter-tasting ejaculate. Alkaline-based fish and meats make for a buttery taste.”

So there you have it. According to Donald Zimmer and a homeless dude, eating pineapple will make your junk taste better.