Ruler of my room and all within it (hairsute) wrote,
Ruler of my room and all within it
hairsute

Crap

Stupid first day off.

Woke up at 7 and had to force myself to go back to sleep. Got CBEST scores. Again marveled that my lowest score was in writing. Checked email. Wrote angry rant to EBay merchant that lied about what he was selling me, then pretended that he had been "confused" about what he was selling. Confused? You put up pictures of books you DIDN'T have. That's not confused, that's godamn blind.

Went to bank to try to deposit paycheck, switch accounts to this state and open a savings account. Sat for 30 minutes while the single lady qualified to use the computer helped people in front of me, including an old woman and her middle-aged daughter who couldn't understand why the woman never having a credit card and having zero credit history might be an issue (I was too far away to hear what they wanted- a credit card, maybe?) A lot of hand-waving was going on.

Next to me was a guy with a strong Will & Grace accent not-so-subtly verbally abusing his elderly mother who just moved from Virginia to be close to him. He was annoyed that she couldn't keep up with the conversation he was pseudo-having with the line-enforcing-lady. "Damn it mother, we're just here to get you a credit card."

"But I don't want a credit card."

(Very annoyed.) "Yes. You. Do."

"Ok. What kind should I get."

"You should get this one. That way I get points I can use for airline miles."

Nice one, dick. Don't even try to pretend you're taking your Mom on that vacation.

So another maybe-manager (actually his desk placard said "Personal Banker"- in your face, ATMs) finally shows up and waves me over. I sit down for maybe a minute before I hear some bozo behind me screeching about how he made an apointment two weeks ago and nobody's helping him and how can they treat people like this? That's right sir, it's freaking Darfur at the bank. Oh, the humanity.

So my not-so-personal banker boots me out of the seat and says I'll have to wait my turn. My turn? I just had my turn, you son of a bitch.

Right around this time Dad wandered in saying why the hell was it taking me so long. In a whispered tone I explained I was fantasizing about burning the bank down. He suggested we just leave and come back Tuesday. On my way out I tried to just deposit my damn check via ATM.

No good. My card has expired.

This was around the time I started looking around for rocks. Unfortunately the closest thing to a rock was a shirtless homeless guy staking out the ATMs hoping someone with newfound wealth would feel generous and hand him a 20. So we went home instead.

Got response from Ebay dillhole. Trying to keep me from siccing Ebay on his ass, he suggested I make him an offer on the books. I told him that I wasn't interested in paying money for something I didn't want and had no room for. I wanted his return address to send them back and a full refund. He said I could always sell the books myself. I said that was a hassle I didn't want to deal with and that my only other option was to have them sit around the house or to give them away to someone, and that I damn sure wasn't paying over 100 dollars for the fucking privilege.

Finally he relented and said he'd reimburse most of my money in exchange for keeping some of it. I wasn't happy, but figured it was the best deal I would get, since he didn't want the books sent back to him. I played hardball and made him pay me back the shipping costs, too. So that's at least one thing done with. (Incidentally, might anyone be interested in issues 1-9, 11-29, and 32 of Lone Wolf and Cub? I'll make you such a deal.)

Oh, and the genealogy work I've been doing for one of my Dad's buddies hit a snag. I was trying to connect one guy, John X, from one part of GA with a John W. X. in another part. John W. is connected to another 5-7 generations of the X family according to Ancestry.com and some other sources, and in various online trees, John X and John W. X are identified as the same person (this all isn't helped by the fact that both men alternately appear in various documents with and without middle initials, sometimes W and sometimes something else).

So I'm hoping this is right, but I'm really paranoid about giving this guy incorrect information (especially after I jumped the gun and told the GF's dad that he was related to various minor British royalty. "Surprise! Turns out you don't have castles!"), so I do a couple more cross-checks.

Bingo, sort of. John W. X, and his two brothers, Irby (huh?) and Seth Marion (also appears as Sethmarion, Seth M., and S. Marion), all in the same GA brigade in the civil war.

Only one problem. It says John W. died of typhoid in Lynchburg in 1863. Which makes it mighty hard to see how he could be the same guy, very much alive, hanging out with a wife and a boatfull of young ones in the 1870 census.

Well, shit. There goes that.
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