If anyone knows Seth Green, ask him how we can make this happen. Thank you.

-mgmt

Either my cell phone number used to belong to two separate deadbeats or I’m getting debt collection calls for a guy that uses aliases.

I got my new cell number back in October. Almost immediately I started getting calls for a “Ronald Little”. Nevermind the fact that my voicemail greeting is CLEARLY in a female voice. And nevermind that I CLEARLY state my name is Nicole. I would still get sternly worded messages from dozens of bill collectors for this Ronald guy. Sometimes three or four a day!

I finally started calling these companies back and they were surprisingly cooperative when I explained the situation. They removed my cell number from their system before I even got off the phone with them. The calls went away…until today when I received a new message. Only instead of asking for “Ronald Little” they’re now asking for a “Robert Jewel”. Name doesn’t even SOUND believable.

How’d I get stuck with the Cosa Nostra hotline?

Lemme tell you about my morning.

It was raining sideways with hurricane-force winds which meant trees were down everywhere, including the hoods of hard-working people’s cars. I tried to “suck it up” [as someone so kindly advised me] and will my way to the office, but after fording no less than four flash floods on 280, I gave up and decided to work from home.

Made it back to the house without issue but not even a MINUTE after I parked my car in the garage? The power goes out. Which meant my work-from-home plans were shot.

I eventually ended up at Eric’s office which was, pretty much, one of the only powered buildings on the block. Turned out all the nearby restaurants were shut down so I lived off coffee and Snickers minis for the first half of the day.

Also managed to bust my ass coming back to the apartment. That’s what’s really hood.

Son: “Mom, do you think you have a drug problem?”
Mother: “Only when I can’t find any.”

[Squeamish readers might want to ignore this post.]

Right now I’m watching a show that is blowing.my.mind.

Background: an Ecuadorian plastic surgeon set up a practice of sorts in the US. But unlike other REPUTABLE surgeons, he didn’t bother with middling details, such as:

1. A US medical license
2. Board certification
3. Anesthesiologists
4. Hospital rooms
5. Sanitary conditions
6. Some semblance of a conscience

Basically the dude just marched into people’s houses, located a free patch of space and started cutting.

One could question whether a logical person would agree to have “surgery” performed on their dirty living room carpet. They should also wonder why a surgeon would offer a $7500 medical procedure for a mere $1000. They should further ask whether a reputable “surgeon” would show up without so much as a clean package of gauze in their possession.

Sadly, none of these questions were asked. And, in at least two cases, things ended with disastrous results.

Patient 1: arrives home to find roommate undergoing rhinoplasty in bedroom. Rhinoplasty surgeon then offers to perform hip liposuction on patient to the tune of $1000. Six hours later the patient puts an end to the painful, blatantly unsuccessful procedure. Feverish patient later wakes to find herself in excruciating pain and calls for an ambulance. Narrowly escapes having both disfigured legs amputated.

Patient 2: decides to have excess arm fat removed. Surgeon decides to perform procedure on living room floor. Surgeon administers local anesthesia then begins cutting. Hours later, procedure has concluded and patient is left bleeding profusely on bed. Patient’s family repeatedly pages surgeon who informs family that excessive bleeding is no cause for alarm. Hours later, family decides to call an ambulance. Patient later expires in hospital.

Eventually the man was convicted of second degree murder and sentenced to 15 years to life. Still doesn’t explain why this was even allowed to happen.