Hottern Hades

It is sooooooo hot here.  102.  On the thermometer.  Fa get about the humidity.  And the heat index. 

I could retreat to the cool comfort of my abode BUT my AC went out yesterday.  Well, at least I can hop into my car for a nice, cool, airconditioned car ride around town.  Ooohh, forgot that my car's AC also quit on me yesterday.  Don't tell me that next a tree is going to...oh wait...

Due to my recent bout-o-luck, I've been going back through the past couple of weeks to see who/what I had offended. 

I did yell at the bank teller at Regions yesterday, when she looked at my Spanish coins like they were an envelope full of snakes and all but refused to do her job.  Convo recap:

Me: I need to exchange some money from my travels abroad (while retrieving my envolope full of coins).

Bitchy Teller: We don't accept coins.

Me: Oh, well here are my Euros and Pounds in bills then.

Bitchy Teller: I need your ID and account number.

Me: Here you go...

Bitchy Teller: This is no where near enough money for me to exchange.

Me: Huh?

Bitchy Teller: You must have AT LEAST $150.00 U.S. for us to exchange your money.

Me: Why?

Bitchy Teller: Because that's our policy.

Me: Why is that the policy?

Bitchy Teller: It just is.

Me: Well, what do you suggest I do with these 100 Euros ($123.00 US)?

Bitchy Teller: I have no idea.

Me: Can I speak to someone else?

Bitchy Teller: No.

Me: Why not?

Bitchy Teller: Because they will tell you the same thing.

Me: There isn't a manager?

Bitchy Teller: I'm the only person that handles money exchanges.

Me:  Well, then, is there somewhere else in town I can go?  We are doing work on our house and every penny helps (this should surely melt Bitchy Teller's icy heart; everyone knows we are in a recession). 

Bitchy Teller: No.

Me: You mean to tell me that there is not one single place in Shreveport wherein I can exchange 100 Euros.

Bitchy Teller: That's what I'm saying.

Me: So, what do you suggest I do with these bills and coins?

Bitchy Teller: Take them to Dallas.

Me: Well that's convenient. 

Bitchy Teller: Silence.

Me:  Thanks, I really appreciate all your help.  Your customer service has been impeccable.  I hope you get hit by a bus leaving work today. 

Ok, so, I didn't tell her that I hoped she would get hit by a bus, but I did tell her how much she sucked at her job.

Could BT really have been Jesus testing me, a la Helen Steiner Rice's the Christmas Guest?  And then Jesus punished my rudeness by removing my creature comforts?  Surely Jesus would have been a much nicer and more helpful bankteller.  I would not have been rude to the Jesus bankteller.  Just to the Regions bankteller.

Later that evening while watching TV in my unairconditioned house, Bart came home and told me I looked like a dude.  I guess sweaty wives propped up on the bed watching TV in their boxers aren't hot--even if they don't have a shirt on.  Come to think of it, maybe it was the lack of shirt that evoked the dude comment, not the boxers.

Has somebody put the gris gris on me?

Is it just me...

or do Justin Bieber and Joran van der Sloot look exactly alike?

Joran

The Biebs

The Biebs sans hair.