Neanderpundit

The Oglet plays softball in one of the town leagues, and she has a great time. Her team isn’t the best, nor the worst by far. She needs to be a little less nervous, and swing at the ball (when she practices at home she creams them about 2/3 of the time) but an evening spent watching 12 year olds play ball is a relaxing good time.

I have to tell you, now that the knee is on the mend (hopefully) if I could find the suckiest ass mens softball team in America, I would join them, because it looks like the kids are having a ball. They can get their asses kicked and the next thing you know, they are having juice boxes and oreos, and smiling like they just won the pennant. I think I could knock a softball out of the park, if I could connect reliably, and I might make a good left fielder. If I had a mitt the size of a bushel basket.

But hey, then I woke up, because I was damned sure dreaming.

See bitch weasel. See Dick snap. Run, bitch, run!

Verbatim from Dick’s email to me tonight:
First thing that evil fucking bitch from Nationwide said to me was, “if your wife wouldn’t have hit our client, we wouldn’t have to do this.”
A second earlier I was in a pleasant conversation about the value of Kelly’s ’07 Eclipse. Yeah, the bitch pushed the wrong button.
“Excuse me?” I asked, not quite believing what I heard.
“Well,” she said, as if she wanted to test me, “your wife hit our client, which is what caused this mess to begin with.”
Mount Saint Helens had nothing on me. I fucking exploded.
“Excuse the fuck out’ve me? Did somebody fuck up and claim this was my wife’s fault, or did Nationwide get into the business of paying just for the fucking fun of it? Get me your boss on the phone. You’re a God damn idiot.”
Mr. Dick, you really don’t have to use that kind of language,” she retorted.
Her name is Crystal, if that matters. And yeah, her ass is gonna be famous if she keeps this shit up.
“Now, what about the car. KBB (Kelly Blue Book) lists it at $19,400.00. You guys stroke her a check for that, plus T.T&L, plus dealer’s fees, plus and an additional $360.00 for the tint, six CDs still stuck in the changer, and the window tint, and we’ll call it good.”

“We don’t pay like that, Mr. Dick.”
“Oh yeah, how do you pay? What is your standard?” I asked.
“Fair market value, of course.”
“Whose fair market value?
“CCC’s,” she replied.
“Who are they?”
“That’s who we use to ascertain the value of used cars. Tell me about what was wrong with your wife’s car.”
“What? Nothing… It was a perfect car.”
“Oh, come on… All owners say that about their cars. What was it really like?” She almost mocked me.
“You and me are gonna have a long week, sweetie.” I let her know. I wasn’t kidding.
“Hey, tell me about the bonus system there?” I asked.
“What, I don’t understand.”
“You know… For every dollar you fuck the victim out of, you get a bonus of some sort.”
“Mr. Dick, that’s rude to even begin to insinuate! We don’t do that!”
“You’re full of shit, ma’am, now let’s talk about money.”
“Okay, but let’s go over the car first, shall we? Your car had 13,752 miles miles on it.”
“Really, how’d you figured that?” I was wondering where the extra 2700 miles came from.
“We flashed it.”
“Ma’am, either your people are idiots, or liars. What are ya gonna go with?”
“Excuse me?”
“The car had 11,000 miles on it.”
“Can you prove that?”
“Yep. Where do you want me to fax the service receipt from last Saturday?”

The ignorant bitch gave me a fax number and told me we’d continue in the morning. I’m gonna eat this bitch and her boss for fucking breakfast.
Fuck you Nationwide. Pay up.

Dick

Novocaine first, then a big old plunger of cortisone. “Hey, you’re not pumping up a soccer ball here”. Felt better instantly, then the caine wore off around two, but it’s already better than usual.

Now I have a good headcold or allergy or something causing my vertigo to flare up.

If it’s not one thing, it’s your mother.