The Contest winner, a fake sneezing baby, bank complaint poetry, and Venn diagrams: Something for everyone.

There were a few things I'd indicated I wanted to discuss in my last post, but let's first get down to brass tacks, shall we? And no, I won't bore you with the origins of that particular phrase, even though I am totally That Girl, the one who loooooves trivia and finding out how sayings came about, and basically, I'm about one suede-patch tweed jacket and pipe away from some sort of Frasier-like douchetude.

So, the winner of the Zits Motion Comics contest. I know I'm repeating myself here when I say, once again, how appreciative I am for your participation and feedback and support. My husband--and his colleagues-- were so pleased by the response, so THANK YOU. Again.

In the interest of full disclosure, I feel compelled to discuss the process whereby I arrived at the winner. And yeah, this is exactly like that interminable minute at the Academy Awards when the dudes from Price Waterhouse walk out with their briefcases of sealed envelopes, and start caressing the ballots, and blabbing on about the ballots, and you're all, "SHUT UP ABOUT THE BALLOTS, RANDOM BEARDED TUX MAN! NO ONE CARES WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY! BRING BACK PENELOPE CRUZ SO I CAN STUDY HER EYE MAKEUP AND ATTEMPT TO COPY IT." Er, maybe that's just me. Regardless, I like to be open about these things.

There were 189 entries. Because I am a stickler, I had to abide by my stated deadline of noon EST on 5/19, which meant, unfortunately, that the last five entries (all of which were posted after such time) were not included in the set, leaving us with 184 potential winners. I utilized randomizer.org to make my selection. It selected number 60. Blogger is a bitch, in that it doesn't number comments, so I forced myself to count them manually not once, not twice, but THRICE to ensure I was correct before announcing the winner. And the winner of the $50 Sephora gift card is....

Jen of I'm Really Not That Busy!



Congratulations, Jen! Although I don't know you, I already love you because you have a picture of your adorable baby adjacent a giant-ass tub of cheese balls on your blog. Lady, I adore giant-ass tubs of cheese balls. And babies. Please send me your address, and I'll get the prize out to you!

Speaking of babies, I'd mentioned last week that Lo has started fake sneezing. And my god, people, it's pretty much the cutest thing I've ever seen. Oh, and yes, I HAVE SEEN THE SNEEZING BABY PANDA. J and the kids got me a Flip video camera for Mother's Day, so I'd been stealthily trying to catch her in the act, but each time I tried, she looked at me disdainfully, her eyes clearly saying, "I'm not here to entertain you, mother." Well, joke's on her, because I sneaked up on her, ninja-like, and captured it.



The best part is how I try to get into it at the end with a little fake sneeze action of my own, and she totally ignores me, like I ruined her fun. I do believe I'm getting a glimpse of her adolescence.

In other news, my bank card was either lost or stolen on Monday, which, you know, just makes for a fabulous day. Now, I could rant incessantly about my experience in trying to get it canceled and reissued, but c'mon, let's all admit that people blogging about that shit is generally boring. That said, I do want to let my bank know how upset I am with them, and so, I channeled my rage into a brief poem:

Why, Citibank, Why?

Monday I called Citibank Customer Service
To report my card totally missing.
I was immediately routed far overseas,
Where "Rick" had me seething and hissing.

After asking me for my mom's maiden name,
S.S.N. and other ID,
He demanded I tell him the full card number,
Which I no longer had on me.

I explained that since the card was now gone,
This was info I no longer possessed.
He said "that's a shame" and I began ranting
Since he had the IQ of a...garlic press.(eh.)

He told me I should call them back later from home,
When I had a statement with the number.
I may have inquired about his mental state,
And perhaps may have threatened to rumble.

"I can't be the first one to face this issue!"
I asked him, incredulously.
"I'm sorry, but my hands are tied, ma'am" he countered,
Ever so imperiously.

Long story short, I was transferred four times,
And "Mary" then came to my rescue.
She took care of things in a matter of seconds,
Closed the lost card and made a re-issue.

But still, Citibank, I just cannot believe your wretched customer service.
Mary, of course, was helpful to me, and I'd daresay she's my hero.
But moronic Rick just stonewalled me,
As I pictured my account nearing "0. "

So if someone's calling to report a card
That's been stolen or lost, but not found,
Why can't you make the process straightforward,
And not this protracted runaround?

Ahhhhh. See? I feel better, and you didn't have to read an eighteen-paragraph, ire-filled missive. Everybody wins!

And finally, as promised, a little Venn action. Just because this showcases my THREE CIRCLE Venn prowess (though not my drawing skills. Clearly). And because I'm still clearly not over the obsession. And because Center Stage will never not be eminently, craptastically, addictingly watchable.



(And speaking of eminently, craptastically, addictingly watchable things, REAL HOUSEWIVES OF NJ, OMFG. That show deserves a poem of its very own. And possibly a Venn Diagram. Hmmm. Stay tuned.)