Dishing it out.

Lord knows I try, but I admit I'm not the most tolerant person when confronted with poor customer service. Needless to say, I am NOT TOLERANT OF DISH NETWORK. The following was my actual experience today:

My home phone: Ring, ring.

Me: Hello?

Me: Yes?

Me: Hello?

(Why I was so patient I will never know; I usually hang up the second I don't get an immediate response after answering the phone.)

Telemarketer: Yes, may I please speak with Mrs. B?

Me: This is she.

Telemarketer: Oh, yes, hello. How are you?

Me: Fine, thank you.

Telemarketer: Um...I am calling today with Dish Network to thank you for being a loyal customer. Words, words, words...what we would like to do is offer you three free months of HBO and Starz for the holidays. (Insert unnecessarily long explanation of HBO and Starz's programming here.) Do you like movies?

Me: Yes.

Telemarketer: (Insert even more extoling of the virtues of HBO and Starz). The only thing we ask is...

(Here comes the catch.)

Telemarketer, annoyingly shifting gears mid-sentence: Let me first ask you if you are happy with your Dish Network service...

Me: Well, actually; I've been meaning to call and ask when we are going to be offered HD local channels. Your competitors are offering them, and I'd like to know when they will be available through Dish Network. Our price keeps going up, but we're not getting any new channel offerings.

Telemarketer: Um, I will have to refer you to customer service to answer that. Do you have the customer service phone number?

Me: Well, not in front of me...

Telemarketer: Well, all we're asking is that you commit to continuing your Dish Network service for 24 more months and we will activate your free HBO and Starz tonight.

Me: Wait a minute! Commit in what sense?

Telemarketer: Well, we're just asking you to commit to continuing your Dish Network service for 24 more months.

Me: Yes, I heard that part. So is this a binding verbal contract you're asking me to make right now?

Telemarketer: We're just asking you to commit for 24 more months.

(Sigh.)

Me: What would be the penalty if I cancelled my service before 24 months?

Telemarketer: Well, then you'd have to pay $10 a month for the remainder of the contract.

Me: So this is a contract and you would bill me after I removed my service as a penalty for breaking this verbal contract?

Telemarketer: Well...

Telemarketer: We just want to offer you three free months of HBO and Starz, so can I go ahead and sign you up for that?

Me: I just told you that there is no way I would commit to 24 months of Dish Network service if Dish Network isn't willing to commit to providing me with HD local channels. Why would I commit now, especially since you haven't been able to answer my question about that?

Telemarketer: ...

Me: Should I be calling customer service about this? Who can I talk to who would be able to answer my question?

Telemarketer: Yes, um, well that would probably be customer service.

Me: Okay, I'll call them. What's the number? Thank you.

Customer service department's phone: Ring, ring.

Customer service robot: Please state what you want to talk about...you can just say anything!

Me to robot: I received a puzzling telemarketing offer from Dish Network, about which I am seeking clarification from a real person.

(I'm sure that's on the menu.)

Customer service robot: I'm sorry; let me try to understand your issue. Say "billing," "programming," etc.

Me: Sigh. Programming, I guess...

So I get a very nice man in India who wants to know all my customer information. I provide everything, at which point he informs me I am not a customer and asks me what my relationship is with the account holder.

Me: If the account holder is Benjamin, then my relationship is SPOUSE.

Nice but Unhelpful Guy in India: Yes, that's the account holder. Let me see if you are also listed on the account. (typing sound) No, you're not. Therefore, I cannot answer any questions about your account.

Me: Excuse me, what?

Nice but Unhelpful Guy in India: I'm really sorry, but you're not authorized to make any changes on this account.

Me: Okay. First of all, I don't understand why the telemarketer would call and specifically ask ME to enter into a verbal contract on the account if I am not actually the "loyal customer" she said I was. But second, I don't necessarily want to make any changes; I would just like to know if you know anything more about this HBO and Starz offer and what all it entails.

Guy in India: I'm sorry, no. I am not familiar with that offer.

Me: Okay, well do you know if Dish Network is planning to offer my local channels in HD?

Guy in India: Well, you have to have the HD package for that.

Me: I am pretty sure we do. We have the HD DVR and get all the available cable channels in HD...

Guy in India: Oh. Well, for what market do you want to receive local HD channels?

Me: Des Moines, Iowa.

Guy in India: Well, I'm showing that WOI Channel 5 is available in HD. KCCI Channel 8...(rattles off all our local channels accurately, indicating that they are available in HD)

Me: Really? They're available? Are those not automatically included with the HD package?

Guy in India: Well, I can't really tell you because your name isn't on the account.

Me: Seriously? I just want to know how one goes about getting these channels; you can't answer that question for me unless I'm an account holder?

Guy in India: Yes, surely you understand the security concerns that would preclude me from doing that.

(No, I do not. Actually.)

Guy in India: Words, words, words....I think they could help you in technical support.

Me: Okay, then can I speak to someone in technical support?

Guy in India: Sure. Is there anything else I can help you with before I transfer you?

Me: Well, I don't think so; you really haven't been able to answer any of my questions.

Guy in India: Sorry about that. So, is there anything else I can help you with?

Me: Um, yeah...no.

Guy in India: I'm sorry.

Me: It's okay; thank you for transferring me to the technical folks. I'll try them.

(And here's the part where I really start to lose my $hit...)

Tech support rep: This is Jane, how can I help you?

(I try to calmly explain the whole mess again, with probably a modicum of irritation evident in my voice as I explain that I keep getting directed to people who can't help me.)

Tech support rep: Well, I'm afraid I can't help you because your name isn't on the account.

Me, irritated beyond all getout now: That's really frustrating. Why did Dish Network call and ask me to enter into a binding verbal contract on my account if I have no authority to know anything about my account?

Tech support rep, in a super snotty tone: Well, maybe because you were on a MARK-eting list.

Me: Okay, that doesn't make any sense. I just want to know when HD local channels will be offered in the Des Moines market. Pretend I am just Joe Schmo off the street and I want to know about this; what would you tell me?

Tech support rep: Well, I don't work in customer service.

(AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!)

Me: You have GOT to be kidding me. So, I need to call my husband and ask him to add me to the account just to get you to answer a question about how your product works, huh?

Tech support rep: Yes, I can only speak to you if you're an equal person on the account.

(Perhaps challenging someone's equality as a person is not the most semantically effective way of calming down an angry customer who is actually not a customer.)

Me: I just have to say that I think your customer service is terrible, inconsistent, inefficiently segmented, and completely unhelpful. I will call my husband, have him call Dish Network, and then call you back. Can I get your name so I can call you back so I don't have to re-explain all this to someone else?

Tech support rep: AS I TOLD YOU AT THE BEGINNING OF YOUR CALL, MY NAME IS JANE.

(True; she did.)

Jane: And if you call back they will just give you to the first available representative, anyway.

Way too late to make a long story short: I finally got my Dish Network personal equality status and called back to be blessed with the information that I will have to enter into a 24-month contract, anyway, if I want to get my HD local channels, because my equipment needs to be upgraded.

Don't sign up for Dish Network. Just saying.

Putting my wheels in the water

This is certainly not the kind of day when a pensive mood would be at all unexpected, but I am basking in it nonetheless.

I woke up this morning with the distinct feeling that my life had changed. I think, and hope, that I probably experience life-changing moments every day, but sometimes those moments are so heavy you can feel them in your body. When you wake they are pressing on your heart and you want to let them out, but the "how" seems so elusive. Twenty-three hours later, I am faced only with the sparkle of rain-kissed window screens and a dimly lit keyboard as I continue to wonder.

This morning as I heard tales of Swahili chants over a mango branch-covered tomb and the shaky voice of a 109-year-old daughter of a slave say she never thought the "colored would rise up," I had hope that for at least one day in this country we could put aside bickering and breathe in what has happened in our world. It goes so far beyond my tremendous pride in a great man, so far beyond the nationwide restoration of faith we feel in America, so far beyond hope for our country to lift itself up. It is men's chants in Britain, children's smiles in Indonesia, and the declaration of a jubilant Kenyan carpenter named Joseph: "If it were possible for me to get to the United States on my bicycle, I would."

I am not sure I can remember a time in my relatively short life that my country has carried the lantern, but I now know it casts a circle of awesome warmth. I am so excited about our opportunity and yet so afraid of not measuring up.

Today I also woke up carrying another life-changing weight: the power of telling the stories of others. I have had wonderful opportunities to do this. In my conversations with an Iraqi parliament member, I saw many shades of gray in a war that had once seemed so black and white to me. From a 13-year-old, I learned that objects aren't important and that selflessness is truly the greatest virtue. Yesterday, I spent the afternoon with a 25-year-old who has been forever changed by a traumatic brain injury but has battled bravely to reclaim a life for himself. Even where justice seems absent, the human spirit is omnipresent. This I have learned in all these experiences.

Last night was one of those rare moments when justice and human spirit collided. And it's the kind of thing that just makes you want to ride your bicycle across the ocean.

When it comes to shallow topics, my paranoia strikes deep.

So it's Wednesday, which means I fully descend into my midweek reality television abyss and stew all day about Project Runway. Hooray, intellectualism!

And today I'm worried about my darling Jerell.

In case you missed it, last week's episode of Runway was pure bullcrap. Jerell created an elegant gown while Kenley skinned a barracuda and belted it onto her model, yet there has been no change in the contestant status whatsoever. To summarize: The challenge had no point at all! The judges even went so far as to declare Jerell the challenge winner, yet did not place him in the final three.

I smell a conspiracy.

I know Jerell is a fantastic designer. He has won three challenges and has a flair for the dramatic. Also: I love him! But I will admit that Jerell sometimes lacks the "editing eye" that the Gunnster is always railing about. And if you let him get out of control, Jerell can create, well, kind of a hot mess.

Here is my fear: Jerell is going to show some slightly-out-of-control-yet-potential-filled designs for Bryant Park tonight and the judges (producers) will use it as an excuse to get rid of him. I could be wrong, but I'm worried. Armed with time, Kenley could certainly create some good stuff. And Leanne and Korto are proven talents. But if the point of the show is just to reward the three designers who create the nicest Bryant Park collections, why don't they just make that the format of the show?

And if they did make that the format of the show, I can tell you who would be in the final three: Joe. To the Motherfreaking Faris.
But I digress. The point is that, based upon the established format of the show, Jerell Scott has earned a spot in the final three of Project Runway. And the entire viewing audience has been waiting all season to see Kenley Collins get the auf to end all aufs. The producers are down to ONE LAST CHANCE to make this happen, so they had better make it happen tonight! Dammit.

On a semi-related note, has anyone seen The Rachel Zoe Project on Bravo? Hilarious. It's really bad, actually. Don't watch it. Even though it is hilarious. But horrible.

The woman whom Stella hilariously dubbed on Runway "a stylist in an oversized mumu dress with a waistband who doesn't know any better" has her own show/product placement ad for Starbucks. The show consists of the 90-pound 37-year-old who looks 50 running around in oversized belted mumu dresses talking like a valley girl and acting like her life is stressful because she has to pick out dresses for celebrities to wear to awards shows. Seriously. It's really pathetic. And the fact that I wasted 60 minutes watching it and five minutes here writing about it doesn't say much for me. But it's sort of like the MTV show "The Hills." You just need to watch about 20 minutes of one episode to get the point: Our educational and values systems in the United States have officially hit rock bottom.

And I know: Project Runway is a pretty shallow thing to watch. But at least they DO SOMETHING on that show. Like design clothes, which requires talent and ability. They also do other things, like using the Bluefly.com accessory wall and thanking Mood and hollering at their boys. And voting off Jerell! Waaaaah! I'm so paranoid.

Prove me wrong, asshat Bravo producers. Please!

The last three books I've read

30 Ways of Looking at Hillary: Reflections by Women Writers
Edited by Susan Morrison
Copyright 2008

First off, I should mention that I did not caucus for Hillary Clinton. But I cried when she dropped out of the election. The Me Who Doesn't Want to Vote for a Female Candidate Just Because She's a Woman has been at nearly constant odds with the Me Who Really Wants to See a Woman President for more than a year. They say you either love or hate Hillary, but I don't agree. I like her and am as outraged as the next guy by the treatment she has received; I just don't know that we match up all that much in our political views. That is all. None of my opinions about her have anything to do with pantsuits, cookie-baking, or Monica.

I was really interested in reading this book after seeing the editor interviewed on, of all shows, The Colbert Report. I think the subject matter appeals to many of us women who don't know how to feel about Hillary -- who admire her as a fearless female but are not sure how empowering it would be for the first female president to be elected in large part because she was FLOTUS.

Some of the essays included in this book are fairly stupid. I would have expected more from Susan Orlean than to speculate about Hillary's status as either a cat or dog person. (Zzzzzz.) And Robin Givhan's pontification on Hillary's cleavage induced some eye-rolling. (Though it probably is noteworthy to count the references to clothing and fashion in the book, which are pretty telling about how much steeper the climb is for women in politics...would a collection of essays about a male politican EVER include an analysis of his tie collection and how much he should try or not try to be sexy? Don't. Think. So.)

Some of the essays are great. The 30th, "Beyond Gender: The Revenge of the Postmenopausal Woman" by Leslie Bennetts, is the best. I also enjoyed Susan Cheever's analysis of Hillary's self-proclaimed favorite book: Little Women, and Rebecca Mead's examination female presidents in pop culture, including a 1964 movie I'd never heard of called "Kisses for My President," in which Fred MacMurray played the First Husband. Heh.

The book definitely includes a variety of perspectives, but there are lots of common themes -- pantsuits, Maureen Dowd, Monica, academics, the "baking cookies" comment -- that maybe got a little old. I finished the book several months ago, when it was probably more relevant. But if you're interested in feminism or Hillary (this book is not so much about politics), I still think it's worth reading.

Plainsong
By Kent Haruf
Copyright 1999

Whenever I rave about a book to friends or family, they invariably ask me: "Well, what's it about?" This question trips me up. It seems like half the books I really love are difficult to summarize, and Plainsong is certainly no exception. It's basically a story about people who live in the tiny High Plains town of Holt, Colorado, and the way their lives intertwine. Sounds thrilling, I know. But the beauty of this book is truly in its writing. It's more like a beautiful song than a beautiful story. The writing style may at first trouble anal-retentive punctuation sticklers like I Have No Idea Who That Would Be for a few pages, but it quickly wins you over. It's simultaneously one of the simplest and most unique pieces of prose I've ever read.

And it's a quick read because it's nearly impossible to put down.

Can I Keep My Jersey?: 11 Teams, 5 Countries, and 4 Years in my Life as a Basketball Vagabond
By Paul Shirley
Copyright 2007

I should probably first point out that I kind of know the author. We went to college together. I've talked to him a few times and we know a lot of the same people, at least. So the point I'm trying to make is that this book was interesting to me because a lot of the references were familiar.

The book does answer the question of, "What happens when you give a book deal to a sarcastic mechanical engineer with no real writing background?" Answer: He inserts a lot of distracting parenthetical commentary on his own writing ability that should actually just be replaced with real editing and mildly irritates those of us with degrees in writing who have yet to be offered any sort of book-writing opportunity. Also: Someone should have fixed his subject/pronoun agreement errors. Just saying.

Of course I can be jealous of Paul's book deal, but until I have the motivation to actually write a complete book about something people would actually want to read, I can stop whining any time now. Why would anyone offer me the opportunity to write a book about my job? I sit at my desk chewing on pens all day.

And actually, this book is not about me. It's about a relatively well-known former collegiate basketball player who is so obsessed with the idea of playing professional sports that he is willing to upheave his entire life in pursuit of some specific goal that the book doesn't exactly define. (I think he says it's to be an NBA benchwarmer, but since he attained that I would think there would be no need for further life upheaval.) The content is definitely interesting if you can get around the somewhat sloppy presentation. And the writing is pretty good if you can get around the aforementioned parenthetical tangents. Oh yeah, and the extreme negativity.

I'm about as big a fan of sarcastic and/or cynical writing as they come, but the book still troubled me in parts. I don't believe Paul is actually as mean as he sounds in the book, but otherwise I can't really defend some of the insensitive things he says, usually just in passing, about people, usually mentally or physically disabled individuals. Maybe he thinks it's funny...? It's not.

Part of the reason I think a lot of readers, including me, got frustrated with the author is because he discloses in the book his monetary compensation for several of the basketball gigs he whines about ad nauseam. Spoiler alert: In many cases, it's extremely high. I guess I just think that if you're making THAT much money to do something so inconsequential you should have a positive attitude about it. Otherwise, please use your intelligence and education for something that is valuable to society. Like developing vehicles powered by alternative energy sources would be one thing you could do if you were, say, AHEM, a mechanical engineer.

If you are cynical about professional sports (like I definitely am), this book will certainly bolster your cynicism. If you have no interest in or connection to collegiate or professional athletics, you will probably want to pass. Unless you just like reading things written by really negative people.

What's next?
So now it's time to move on to my summer reading. I've got some fluffy stuff (like Turning Tables by Heather & Rose MacDowell and How to Lose Friends & Alienate People by Toby Young) and some heavy books my mom gave me that I've been avoiding to this point because I'm afraid they'll give me nightmares: Infidel by Aayan Hirsi Ali and The Reluctant Fundamentalist by Mohsin Hamid. I think I'll start with...

Um.

Doesn't David Sedaris have a new book out?

Thinking outside the inbox

So I've always wanted to find out exactly who those people are who write the e-mail forwards.

You know the ones I mean: Those messages that say things like "I am proud to be an American and think we should nuke Djibouti and those who don't agree with me can go to hell! If you agree, forward this to 40 people." or "For every person you forward this message to, Bill Gates will send you a $100 gift certificate for Crystal Pepsi." Or whatever. (I know these lose something when translated to a font that is not blue 36-point Comic Sans and without being illustrated by an animated GIF of a bald eagle flapping its wings, but you get the picture.)

I mean, really: Where do these come from? Are the authors 12 years old? In mental institutions? Please help me understand.

And while the authors of these masterpieces have me utterly perplexed, I am also aware that they are far outnumbered by the thousands of people who will willingly forward them without thinking twice (or even once). When did our society come to the consensus that it's okay to "say" whatever you want as long as you didn't write it and are just, to quote Michael Scott in The Office, "forwarding like it's hot...f-f-forwarding it like it's hot?"

I seriously doubt my co-workers would consider it acceptable for me to fire off an e-mail to them saying, "Remember the days when women stayed at home and raised their children? Wasn't that great? And don't you think the federal government should stop spending money to rebuild the communities of those whiny Hurricane Katrina victims? Boy, they have a lot of nerve. Forward this to 10 people."

I can pretty confidently say this would be considered inappropriate and my co-workers would, at minimum, think I was crazy. Probably worst case scenario, one of them would sue me for harrassment. But contrast: If I simply forward an e-mail containing these sentiments, they magically become okay regardless of truth, tact, or tolerance. Not okay to me, that is. But apparently okay to most people.

In fact, I've learned that some people even consider it their patriotic duty to forward such e-mails, even if they don't necessarily agree with them. Also: I have learned that you are not allowed to question or even comment upon the content because, hey: The sender didn't write it! They're just forwarding it! You should also be warned, if you haven't been already, that just because the person who forwards you an e-mail is one of the most intelligent, accomplished individuals you know IT DOES NOT MEAN ANYTHING. I think we've all learned that the hard way: Inboxus Megastupidius can literally afflict anyone at any time.

But, I'm sorry: In my opinion, the act of forwarding intolerant or otherwise stupid e-mails at least creates the illusion that the sender supports their content, if not serves as a full-fledged endorsement. I know, I know, but I don't care if that wasn't your intent; I'm just telling you how it is. I would love to start a movement to dispel the notions that: A) people are in any way obligated to forward all their e-mails; and B) people should not be held accountable for views expressed in the e-mails they send. Even ones written in 36-point blue Comic Sans and decorated with animated GIFs that were written by 12-year-olds in mental institutions. Sorry, dudes.

Maybe I should create an e-mail expressing my views and start forwarding it around. I hear if I send it to at least 10 people I will probably win a Disney vacation, or at least a Cracker Barrel voucher. From Warren Buffett, who planted an e-mail tracking device in the message.

Hey, I didn't make the rules. Al Gore did, when he invented the Internet. At least that's what he claims, the pretentious bastard. Didn't you get the e-mail about that?

Ten reasons I'm excited about summer

1. My 8th wedding anniversary.
On December 24, 1998, Ben asked me to marry him. I did my best to ruin this romantic moment, just like I ruin most romantic moments, by being sick and whiny and basically refusing to go along with his plan to drive me to another city and propose on the street in front of the coffee house where we had our first date when we were 17. Just like living with me today, it took a monumental effort on his part. But he saw it through. On July 8, we will celebrate eight years of him putting up with me. I hope he still thinks it's worth the effort.

2. Farmer's Market.
Last Saturday was opening weekend of the downtown Des Moines Farmer's Market, but I missed it because: A) I was hung over from my 30th birthday party the previous night; B) I needed to go out of town for another 30th birthday party; and C) it was raining. This morning was quite the opposite in the weather and hangover-ness departments, and I scored six basil plants, a 4 oz. tub of chevre, and a big ole container of homemade peanut butter while parting with only 10 big ones. Five more months of this ahead. Yayskee.

3. August at the lake.
Gluttony and sloth! Also: Folksy Wisconsin accents!

4. Driving in the country with the windows rolled down.
You can't do it in the wintertime in Awa, but I love this. Especially accompanied by really loud driving-appropriate music like John Butler Trio, the Dixie Chicks, or pretty much any good rock album. I love driving almost as much as I love music, so the two make a great combo in my book; too bad driving is a worse habit than eating red meat or smoking Pall Malls. Thank goodness I've never done either of those last two things.

5. The students are gone, so I can find a parking spot on campus.
Enough said there.

6. Baseball games.
I will not watch them on TV unless it's the World Series and one of the teams I like (which is pretty much just the Red Sox, Brewers, or Royals...I'll admit I'm not such a loyal fan) is participating, but I will attend just about any live baseball game. I can swill beers and heckle Blue with the best of them. Also, I am excellent at eating peanuts and wearing caps.

7. Golf season.
This one is actually kind of a good/bad: If I could play golf once a week during the summer, I'd be happy. But I happen to be married to someone who could play 36 holes every day and not get the teeniest bit bored with it. So I tend to spend a little too much time alone (which for me is saying a lot, because I do loves me some alone time) or getting dragged out to golf courses in oppressive heat that I don't really want to experience during the summer months.

8. Festivals.
The Des Moines Arts Festival, the different cultural festivals they put on downtown, and this year we will also have the 80/35 Music Festival! I don't know what it is I like so much about festivals...they're just so darned festive.

9. I don't typically go to bed at 9 p.m. like a total loser in the summertime. I might even stay up til, like, 11 o'clock!
I am so impressive.

10. Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream.
After four years hocking Blizzards at the college town DQ, I'm just paying back the Dairy Queen employees of the world when I breeze into the drive-thru at 10:29 p.m. Sorry, kids.

Mushrooms, excavators, and play-in games

Okay, so I hinted at but did not necessarily promise a story about snarfing down fried mushrooms a few posts back. Hold on to your nipples: I am now delivering on said quasi-promise.

This story isn't actually so much about snarfing fried mushrooms as it is about my home city and its attempts to be kinda sorta big-ish. In some respects, my city has delivered. I mean, there was the whole New York Times article thing. And the documented witnesssing of actual Des Moines tourism. And I'm definitely jazzed about the upcoming 80/35 Music Festival. And there's Wells Fargo Arena, where I went to see Bon Jovi play last Sunday night (and also saw an arena football game Saturday night, but that's another story).

I'll admit that a Bon Jovi concert isn't exactly the hippest thing in the world and that, due to inate hickishness that I swear is beyond our control, Iowans perhaps get a little overly excited about such an event. But for argument's sake let's just agree that the Bon Jovi concert could be classified into the category of major, sold-out, arena rock concert featuring internationally famous act...the kind they have in a place like Madison Square Garden all the time.

I posted on my work blog last month about Des Moines' recent hosting of the NCAA women's basketball tourament's first and second rounds at Wells Fargo Arena and how I thought the city did an excellent job:

"When I was traversing the Des Moines skywalk system
to get to my media credential distribution volunteer post
last Friday morning, I tried to see the city I call home through
the eyes of our visitors. And I’ll tell you this: If it were my
first time in Des Moines, I’d be pretty impressed. For players,
a gym is a gym. But for fans and other dignitaries, it’s sure
nice to be in a community that supports and appreciates
women’s college basketball and that has culture, dining, and
first-class accommodations all within walking distance of an
excellent venue."

I wasn't the only one who felt this way. The Des Moines Register spent the following Sunday salivating over the prospects of hosting more important rounds of the women's tournament at WFA in future years. Or hosting early rounds of the men's tournament in Des Moines. "At least take the play-in game away from Dayton and give it to us," they cried.

And I was on the bandwagon (not about the play-in game because, seriously: The play-in game?). But you know, we do have a great setup for a major basketball championship event. Why not Des Moines?, I thought.

I'll tell you why not; there's one simple reason. And that reason is Zimm's Food and Spirits.

My companions and I ended up at this den of iniquity after our pre-concert libation attempts in the vicinity of the arena went horribly awry. Every single person who was out and about in downtown Des Moines last Sunday night was going to the Bon Jovi concert. (This also means, of course, that on Sunday nights when there isn't a Bon Jovi concert the downtown is basically dead.) We literally attempted to dine at every restaurant/bar/whatever you'd call Spaghetti Works within 12 blocks of the arena and struck out repeatedly (all the while shielding our eyes from road construction-related sediment flying through the air and walking around equipment being operated by people who didn't seem to understand why there were so many damn people out on Court Avenue that night anyway), forcing us to retrieve my illegally parked Honda and head away from downtown as quickly as possible while our available minutes til Daughtry (MTD) dwindled. We started down Ingersoll Ave., finding two-hour waits at Wellman's Pub and the Star Bar. We drove by a Dairy Queen and wished it were open. I was just about to suggest the Baker's Cafeteria when Amy saw it, beckoning from the left side of the road like a dirty hitchhiker with a neon Budweiser sign around his neck: Zimm's Food and Spirits!

"Yeeeeaaaaaah, Bon Jovi!," some drunk guys shrieked at us as we circumnavigated Zimm's patio and breezed into the entrance. We were delighted to find available seating in the bar. After 15 minutes of pleading (at least as best as one can plead to a person who is streaking past her at mach 7, trying not to make any eye contact) we procured our own menus from the wait station and our own beer from the bartender. "Good food takes time," the menu read. How long for bad food, we wondered. (Answer: 20 minutes.) Once the lone Zimm's waitress finally arrived at our table she scoffed at our suggestion that maybe we could get something to eat before the Bon Jovi concert started. We opted instead for Zimm's fastest appetizers (including fried mushrooms) and departed Zimm's at about 10 MTD, which only made us about 10 minutes late for the concert.

Des Moines, you know I love ya. But next time I go to one of your big concerts I think I'll eat a popsicle and the broken bits from the bottom of my Doritos bag before I leave the house. I know I'm not any more likely to eat at Zimm's again than I am to pay $14 for an arena cheeseburger.

They were kinda decent mushrooms.

Pretty much the same, but with normal hair

When I was about 11 years old, I was SO going to grow up to be Mrs. Jon Bongiovi. I was convinced that New Jersey had to be about the coolest place in the world to live. And yes, I recorded the "I'll Be There for You" music video on my parents' VCR and watched it back in slow motion. Many times. I just loved when Jon tossed his 80s metal mane and crooned that when I got drunk, he'd be the wine. Like that isn't a stupid lyric or something. And like I even knew what that meant in 1989.

Then there was a period of time during my adolescence and high school days when I was far too deep and artistic to be a bubble gum Bon Jovi fan. So I developed a similar devotion to 90s grunge bands, particularly Nirvana. The first full-fledged concert I ever attended was Nirvana at Palmer Auditorium in Davenport, Iowa -- a few months before Kurt Cobain committed suicide, actually. I was 16. Kurt dumped a bottle of water on me and my friend, Cyndy, and we vowed never to wash the shirts we were wearing again. I mean, probably if I still had that shirt the Smithsonian would be beating down my door right now. (In my own defense, may I just say that my friend Amy has a similar story about Joey from New Kids on the Block spraying her with a garden hose at the Iowa State Fair? So yeah.)

I guess I still thought Jon Bon was cute in the 90s and all. It's just that I preferred more cerebral song lyrics, like "Oh well, whatever, nevermind" to stuff like "Remember at the prom that night? You and me, we had a fight."

So last night's Bon Jovi concert at Wells Fargo Arena was all about indulging my 12-year-old self. And let me just tell you: My 12-year-old self had pretty good taste in hotties. Why is it that men seem to get better looking with age? Because the man is seriously more gorgeouser than ever.

The aforementioned Amy contacted me a loooong time ago about getting tickets to this show, and I'm so glad she did. We didn't spring for the $110+ floor seats, but we still had a decent view among the sellout crowd. The setlist was pretty much perfect for me (possibly excepting the omission of "Lay Your Hands on Me"). Amy really wanted to hear the songs from the movie Young Guns, dating back to her obsession with Emilio Estevez and the time she and her friends were frequent watchers of Young Guns and were pretty sure they spotted Emilio at a McDonald's in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, and OH MY GOD they picked up a quarter he dropped on the floor. (See: EVERY woman my age has an embarrassing 80s and/or 90s celebrity crush story! Also: I just can't resist telling Amy's hilarious stories because they are so perfect. And she will probably kill me after she reads this.)

Like everyone else, my favorite Bon Jovi song is "Livin' on a Prayer," so I was 99.9% confident I would get to hear it. And of course I did.

The opening act, which started before we arrived at the concert due to extenuating circumstances which involve me snarfing down a bowl of deep fried mushrooms in 6 minutes and dust particles clouding my retinas and which prove downtown Des Moines is not fully equipped to handle major volumes of event traffic that I may or may not share in more detail later, was Daughtry. I'll admit I had to use the Google to figure out who this cat was before I went to the show, but I'll say he wasn't half bad. In a sad commentary on my aging, my favorite selections from Daughtry ended up being when he played about 1/4 of Motley Crue's "Home Sweet Home" and most of Filter's "Hey Man, Nice Shot." I also noticed several teenagers swooning over Daughtry like he were Jon Bon Jovi or something. I mean, that was weird.

So, I would just like to thank Amy, Kim, Deborah, and my evening at Wells Fargo Arena for reminding me just what a dorky child I was and for giving me the opportunity, under the cover of darkness in Section 307, to revisit the complicated series of hand gestures I once created to go along with the song Bad Medicine.

Shake it up.

Finally, another blog-worthy Starbucks moment!

This occurred at approximately 7:30 a.m. Wednesday at the flaky Ames Starbucks:

Starbucks employee, shouting into the intercom before I am even pulled up all the way to the shout box: Well, well, how are we this morning?

Me: Um...I'm fine. (Reluctantly:) How are you?

Starbucks employee: We are doing very well on this fine Wednesday morning.

This very pretentious use of "we" has already thoroughly irritated me, long before the employee even gets to the part where he starts confusing me for a man and foisting unwanted banana bread on me. See below.

Me: Uh. That's good.

Starbucks employee: Hey, have you tried our new skinny lattes? They are quite delicious and come in a variety of flavors. I can get one for you in any size, sir.

Sir? Seriously? Have you ever heard my voice? I sound like a lot of things, but I don't sound like a man.

Me (completely caught off-guard): What? No. I, uhm, I just want a grande regular coffee. Black. Please.

Starbucks employee: We also have a blend from Guatemala and a ramalamadingdong brew and someotherwhatchyamacallit brew.

Me: Okay, fine. (Jeebus.) Give me the Guatemalan coffee.

I've been to Guatemala, I reason, and they do have delicious coffee.

Starbucks employee: All right then; what size?

I hate it when they are so immersed in the concept of suggestive selling and cross-promotional hoopla that they fail to listen to you. And when I say "they" and "you," I mean "we."

Me: That was a grande.

I've gotten over my phobia of calling it "grande," but I still don't like it. Just shoot me if I ever start saying "We'd like a grande," though.

Starbucks employee: Did you want cream and sugar?

Me: Nope!

Didn't I also already say "black?" Ugh.

Starbucks employee: Can I get you anything else?

Me: No...

Starbucks employee: How about a piece of banana bread?

At this point, I seriously want to kill this guy. Doesn't he realize I haven't had MY COFFEE yet this morning?

Me: NO, THANK YOU!

The good news for the guy who took my order is that he was not also manning the drive-thru window. Instead I gave my money to a woman with dyed black hair who didn't speak. But it was good Guatemalan coffee. I'll give them that.

Anatomy of the world's worst college bowl picks

The law of averages would suggest that one has a 50 percent chance of correctly selecting the winner of a given college bowl game, even if one has no knowledge whatsoever of college football and blindly guesses the outcome. Why, then, do you suppose it is that I have been correct on less than half of this year's games? I now submit, for your entertainment and education, an actual example of how a person can do THIS poorly in a college bowl pick'em. It's scary, I know...

Poinsettia Bowl, Navy* vs. Utah -- I picked the Midshipmen here. They only lost by a field goal, but I was still wrong. I think the logic was related to the fact that Navy had killed Army in the last game of the season, but I don't really know what I was thinking. 0-1.

New Orleans Bowl, Memphis* vs. Florida Atlantic -- You guessed it, I picked Memphis. I need to remember that, when you don't really know which team to pick YOU ALWAYS PICK THE FLORIDA SCHOOL. 0-2.

Papajohns.com Bowl, Southern Miss vs. Cincinnati* -- Here's where I made my big rebound and finally got one right. 1-2.

New Mexico Bowl, Nevada vs. New Mexico* -- Okay, that one was easy. Of course you pick New Mexico to win the NEW MEXICO Bowl. 2-2 at this point.

Las Vegas Bowl, UCLA* vs. BYU -- I almost lucked into being correct on this one, but UCLA was a stupid pick. I think I had an over-inflated opinion of the Pac-10 (See disastrous Holiday Bowl pick below.) 2-3.

Hawai'i Bowl, Boise State* vs. East Carolina -- Okay, NO ONE picked ECU. Give me a break on this one. 2-4.

Motor City Bowl, Purdue vs. Central Michigan* -- I picked Central Michigan. Oops. I think proximity to home and my tendency to think the Big Ten is too slow to win bowl games resulted in my wrong choice here. Also, I forgot Brian Kelly didn't coach CMU anymore. Okay, I didn't -- but it sounds like a good excuse. 2-5.

Holiday Bowl, Arizona State* vs. Texas -- Wrong again. I picked ASU because all I heard about all year was how wonderful they were. I will also take the liberty here of using the excuse that I was in Italy when Iowa State played Texas and was unable to witness for myself exactly how bad they annihilated us. I'm an idiot; 2-6.

Champs Sports Bowl, Boston College* vs. Michigan State -- The general strategy of picking against the Big Ten pays off here as I move to an impressive 3-6.

Texas Bowl, TCU* vs. Houston -- I think the fact that I mentally associate TCU with Texas Bowl victories, seeing whereas it earned one against my team in 2005 (boo), led me to the correct choice. Hot damn! 4-6! P.S. If I never hear TCU's train whistle again it will be too soon.

Emerald Bowl, Maryland vs. Oregon State* -- The fact that I watched the Beavers beat the Ducks at the end of the season probably made me think they were better than they actually are, but I did correctly guess that they would take down the Turtles. Also, I am a resident of Beaverdale and have a sweet foam Oregon State beaver hat, so I felt an obligation to select the Beavs. Just saying. 5-6...creeping up on .500!

Meineke Car Care Bowl, Connecticut* vs. Wake Forest -- I know Jim Grobe is a fantastic coach, but I let emotion get in the way of my pick as my friend's nephew is the UConn QB. I picked the Huskies and paid the price. 5-7.

Liberty Bowl, Central Florida* vs. Mississippi State -- I thought picking Florida schools was supposed to be a good strategy. Bah. 5-8.

Alamo Bowl, Penn State* vs. Texas A&M -- Finally. A bowl that I felt confident about picking and ended up being correct about. All was right with the world on December 29. Maybe I will be right again by next Dec. 29. Sigh. 6-8.

Independence Bowl, Colorado* vs. Alabama -- Ray, when someone asks you if you Colorado is going to overcome Dan Hawkins and win a football game you say NO. I would just like to say in my own defense that this was a stupid game. 6-9.

Armed Forces Bowl, California* vs. Air Force -- To be honest, I thought I had picked Air Force until I looked on my pick sheet and saw that I was accidentally correct. Go me. 7-9.

Humanitarian Bowl, Georgia Tech* vs. Fresno State -- I can honestly say I have no idea what I was thinking when I picked Georgia Tech. 7-10.

Sun Bowl, South Florida* vs. Oregon -- Who actually knew that Oregon's replacement for Dennis Dixon was going to be halfway decent? Not this chick. 7-11.

Music City Bowl, Insight Bowl, Chick-fil-A Bowl, Outback Bowl, Cotton Bowl, and Gator Bowl -- I got SIX BOWLS IN A ROW correct! The strategy here was to pick three Big 12 teams and three SEC teams as these are in my opinion the best two conferences in the country this year. I am thoroughly impressed with myself. 13-11!

Capital One Bowl, Florida* vs. Michigan -- This was not my fault. Good for Lloyd Carr, I guess. 13-12.

Rose Bowl, Illinois vs. USC* -- To quote my brother on Christmas to our Illini-fan relatives: "I give them a 3 percent chance." I don't believe there was anyone in America who disagreed with that assessment, including Illinois fans. 14-12, but did I really deserve a point for that?

Sugar Bowl, Hawai'i* vs. Georgia -- This was probably my stupidest pick. Why I got suckered into believing that Hawai'i had a good shot here I do not know. I award me no points, and may God have mercy on my soul. 14-13.

Fiesta Bowl, Oklahoma* vs. West Virginia -- I hate you, Oklahoma. 14-14.

Orange Bowl, Kansas vs. Virginia Tech* -- This one really makes me kick myself. I was one of Kansas' biggest defenders all year. I said I thought they'd win 3 of 5 against Missouri because they have a better defense and speculated that they would have beaten OU in the Big 12 title game. Yet, what do I do on the bowl picks? Let the skeptics get inside my head and pick Virginia Tech. Second dumbest pick. 14-15.

With three games to go, I am counting on Rutgers, Bowling Green, and LSU. Since Rutgers and LSU are both heavily favored, I have a chance to finish 16-16. But I'm not holding my breath. Attaining mediocrity is not my strong suit.

Dear People from Other States:

I understand why you may not like Iowa's first-in-the-nation caucuses. I can respect the arguments for modifying the process. A civilized debate about this is important and should continue, as far as I'm concerned.

What I do not appreciate are the baseless attacks on my state. PLEASE stop calling us idiots standing in corners who are unqualified to select candidates. Anyone who would make such a statement is clearly not any more qualified to stand in the corner of a school gymnasium than I am. When exactly did our little purple state become a haven for the uneducated? And when did the rest of the country become so thoroughly uneducated about Iowa, for that matter? Iowans, for the most part, think independently and critically and are motivated by the same things the rest of the country's population is motivated by. One defining difference may be that Iowans are exceedingly humble; indeed this attribute is both a blessing and a curse (a curse in that it makes others quite convinced that there is definitely nothing special about us). So while as an Iowan I may be somewhat humble and maybe a little behind on the fashion trends, last time I checked my body was not covered in scales nor were there antennae protruding from my scalp.

National Public Radio interviewed a woman from Clinton, Iowa, who went to see every candidate, Republican and Democratic, before deciding to support John Edwards in the Iowa Caucus. How can you question her commitment to researching her decision? Iowans read the candidates' books; we attend their presentations and share meals with them; we ask them questions; and we take (well, sometimes we let it roll to answering machine...) their hundreds upon hundreds (upon hundreds) of phone calls. The amount of time, energy, and mental anguish I devoted to the process of deciding whom to support in the caucus this year deserves a little more respect than people calling me an ignorant hick. I have stood in rooms in which I could barely move my arms, praying the entire time that I didn't have a claustrophobic panic attack, to hear candidates. I have sat in 100 degree heat and stood in below zero wind chills. On the same NPR program, I heard about a man who got special permission from the hospital to discharge his ailing 87-year-old wife for the evening so she could caucus for Hillary Clinton. We are not playing around out here; while you may not like our choices, you should respect our dedication to the process. It's there. Trust me.

Sometimes I wonder if those critics on the coasts understand how much information we're armed with in the decision-making process. Perhaps they think we're making our selections based on watching the same talking head television programs or reading the newspapers that are their only source of candidate information. Learning about the candidates is an intensive experience in Iowa.

As I was walking into a post-caucus party last night, an older black gentleman put his arm around me, a younger white woman, and told me simply how proud he was to be an Iowan.

So on a Friday morning in my little corner of the hayseed metropolis, I, too, am proud to be an Iowan. PROUD, I tell you.

How's that for humble?

On to New Hampshire!