Centered around the recent Earth Day events, there has been a lot of advertisements on tv about various things people can do to "go green." Most have the things I have seen have been the usual "separate your garbage and recycleables, reuse containers when possible, try to limit your use of live squirrels in your decoupage projects to once a week," etc. However, I actually came across an ad that mentioned a website that seems to be worth checking out.
www.newdream.org is a website dedicated to "going green." It has information on it about how to reduce junk mail, something even the most wasteful of us seems to be annoyed at. We're talking spam e-mails, phone calls as well as the crap that seems to gum up our snail-mail postal mail boxes.
The website offers several different options including mail in forms, links and phone numbers for a variety of different ways to opt-out of unwanted solicitations. I am going to try several myself and we'll see if the number of things I throw away in a week starts going down.
Just thought I'd pass it on....
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Those BASTARDS!
I get woken up this morning by a phone call from a company calling themselves BNL Express. The woman on the phone tells me that she received my resume about a position in my career field in Denver, Colorado. She wants to tell me more about the position and ask me a few questions. Each statement she makes ends with, "Okay?"
So, going on about two to three hours of sleep, I listen as she describes my freaking dream job. Okay? For $18 an hour. Okay? Exactly where I want to be. Okay? She tells me what I need to do for the next step of the hiring process. Okay? Go online and fill out the application/contractual agreement and fax it back before noon tomorrow to 1-267-653-1757. Okay? After that someone will call me and explain the next step. Okay?
Of course, I'm all nods and smiles on the phones. After a while, I begin to say, "Okay." like a freakin' parrot. I think, this is too good to be true.
*sigh*
I go to the website and the first thing that catches my eye (how can it not) is the creepy little automated chick that starts talking as soon as the page loads, telling you where to go to fill out the contractual agreement. Mind you, this is the HOME PAGE. I say creepy because, if you take your cursor, and move it around, her eyes follow your cursor. Try it. Hmmmm.... I forgot to see if she crosses her eyes if you point at her nose.
Anyway, you click on the contractual agreement, and it is a phisher's dream. Asking for your SSN, Driver's license (under the guise of I-9 and other such employment forms), etc., banking information (for direct deposit), plus a few standard questions like um.... date of hire? Go ahead. Pick a date. Any date.
I checked out the rest of the website, trying to figure out just what it was they did and didn't get too good of a clue, cuz the "home page" refers to financial services, but then the rest of the site refers to "errand running" type crap, all the way down to an escort-type looking service.
On the FAQ page, they forgot to answer the apparently most frequently asked question (upon further research later), which was "Is BNL Express a legit company?" The plain and simple answer I seemed to find (now anyone can correct me if I'm wrong) is no. I even found one specific example of someone who claimed to have had their identity stolen because they had submitted the information requested and had gone through eight separate (failed) trials to try to correct erroneous items caused by this. Can you say "not a happy camper"?
In any case, the result of all of this was me standing in the middle of my kitchen this morning with my hands clenched in the air screaming, "No!!!!!!!!!" when Strings walked in this morning. Can't a gal get a break?
If... if anyone can prove to me that BNL Express is a legitimate business that is opening a branch location in the Denver area, please, PLEASE, PLEASE let me know before noon tomorrow! :s
So, going on about two to three hours of sleep, I listen as she describes my freaking dream job. Okay? For $18 an hour. Okay? Exactly where I want to be. Okay? She tells me what I need to do for the next step of the hiring process. Okay? Go online and fill out the application/contractual agreement and fax it back before noon tomorrow to 1-267-653-1757. Okay? After that someone will call me and explain the next step. Okay?
Of course, I'm all nods and smiles on the phones. After a while, I begin to say, "Okay." like a freakin' parrot. I think, this is too good to be true.
*sigh*
I go to the website and the first thing that catches my eye (how can it not) is the creepy little automated chick that starts talking as soon as the page loads, telling you where to go to fill out the contractual agreement. Mind you, this is the HOME PAGE. I say creepy because, if you take your cursor, and move it around, her eyes follow your cursor. Try it. Hmmmm.... I forgot to see if she crosses her eyes if you point at her nose.
Anyway, you click on the contractual agreement, and it is a phisher's dream. Asking for your SSN, Driver's license (under the guise of I-9 and other such employment forms), etc., banking information (for direct deposit), plus a few standard questions like um.... date of hire? Go ahead. Pick a date. Any date.
I checked out the rest of the website, trying to figure out just what it was they did and didn't get too good of a clue, cuz the "home page" refers to financial services, but then the rest of the site refers to "errand running" type crap, all the way down to an escort-type looking service.
On the FAQ page, they forgot to answer the apparently most frequently asked question (upon further research later), which was "Is BNL Express a legit company?" The plain and simple answer I seemed to find (now anyone can correct me if I'm wrong) is no. I even found one specific example of someone who claimed to have had their identity stolen because they had submitted the information requested and had gone through eight separate (failed) trials to try to correct erroneous items caused by this. Can you say "not a happy camper"?
In any case, the result of all of this was me standing in the middle of my kitchen this morning with my hands clenched in the air screaming, "No!!!!!!!!!" when Strings walked in this morning. Can't a gal get a break?
If... if anyone can prove to me that BNL Express is a legitimate business that is opening a branch location in the Denver area, please, PLEASE, PLEASE let me know before noon tomorrow! :s
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Panic Attacks
Yesterday roommie decides I should accompany him on a relatively short jaunt to a nearby burb. It'll get me out of the house and give me a bit of ride time. Plus it's B.A.C.A. business. The ride down is quite froggy and only one or two complications, but otherwise uneventful. We have a nice time in said nearby burb, but by the time we start to head back home, it's getting late, which means it's getting dark.
We decide to take an alternate route home that we figure will be less foggy since it's more inland (there's lots of backroads around here) and head out with me in the lead and roommie behind and the chapter VP, Scary, passengering on his bike. We're probably more than halfway home when it sets in....
It's dark. Boy it's dark. Are the roads wet? Are they going to be slick? I remember having a problem the last time I came this way. Was it the roads? Where am I? Was that a deer? I can barely see where I'm going. Was THAT a deer? What if I hit something? What if I fall? Even if I manage to stay upright, what if I make them fall behind me? Can I see them? Where are they? Is that them or another car? Count the headlights, Ray. That's way too many headlights. Gosh that car's a bit close. Is that them? Did I lose them? Where am I? Gosh it's dark. Is it getting darker? Why can't I see? WAS THAT A DEER? Is there a curve ahead? What if I lose control of my bike? I hate riding at night. I can never see anything. Damn night blindness. Where are they? Where am I? Shouldn't I be recognizing things by now? Where the hell am I? Shit! Curve! Oncoming car! WHY CAN'T I SEE ANYTHING? WHERE AM I?!?
By the time I realize I'm not breathing anymore I recognize lights up ahead. Thank God. It's our home bar. I can stop there. Somehow I manage to pull into the parking lot and turn my bike off without hitting anything or falling over. Strings comes over. "Everything okay?" he says. I'm managing to breathe now, but I still can't see. The term "blind panic." comes to mind. "Panic attack." I say. He offers to remove my helmet, but I'm already feeling my breathing coming back to normal and my sight, well, that will just take time. Strings and Scary say they'll meet me inside and I sit there, leaning on my bike, willing for my sight to come back. I sit there until I can at least make out the street in front of me. I then make my way inside.
It's amazing the things that fear can do to a person. One minute I'm fine and the next, boom, can't see, can't breathe.... worrying I'm going to die or kill someone else. What I found most amusing today thinking back on it was that they usually refer to riding a motorcycle as "being out on the open road." Me, I was trapped inside my own damn helmet. At 60 mph.
So for those of you wondering why I haven't been posting lately, well, I guess you can say I've been going through a few... things. Don't like to worry people. I'll get over this stuff. Been reading up on anxiety, fear, that sort of thing. Been seeing my shrink and takin' my pills like a good gal. Got an appointment with the psychiatrist tomorrow, in fact. Takin' my car.
We decide to take an alternate route home that we figure will be less foggy since it's more inland (there's lots of backroads around here) and head out with me in the lead and roommie behind and the chapter VP, Scary, passengering on his bike. We're probably more than halfway home when it sets in....
It's dark. Boy it's dark. Are the roads wet? Are they going to be slick? I remember having a problem the last time I came this way. Was it the roads? Where am I? Was that a deer? I can barely see where I'm going. Was THAT a deer? What if I hit something? What if I fall? Even if I manage to stay upright, what if I make them fall behind me? Can I see them? Where are they? Is that them or another car? Count the headlights, Ray. That's way too many headlights. Gosh that car's a bit close. Is that them? Did I lose them? Where am I? Gosh it's dark. Is it getting darker? Why can't I see? WAS THAT A DEER? Is there a curve ahead? What if I lose control of my bike? I hate riding at night. I can never see anything. Damn night blindness. Where are they? Where am I? Shouldn't I be recognizing things by now? Where the hell am I? Shit! Curve! Oncoming car! WHY CAN'T I SEE ANYTHING? WHERE AM I?!?
By the time I realize I'm not breathing anymore I recognize lights up ahead. Thank God. It's our home bar. I can stop there. Somehow I manage to pull into the parking lot and turn my bike off without hitting anything or falling over. Strings comes over. "Everything okay?" he says. I'm managing to breathe now, but I still can't see. The term "blind panic." comes to mind. "Panic attack." I say. He offers to remove my helmet, but I'm already feeling my breathing coming back to normal and my sight, well, that will just take time. Strings and Scary say they'll meet me inside and I sit there, leaning on my bike, willing for my sight to come back. I sit there until I can at least make out the street in front of me. I then make my way inside.
It's amazing the things that fear can do to a person. One minute I'm fine and the next, boom, can't see, can't breathe.... worrying I'm going to die or kill someone else. What I found most amusing today thinking back on it was that they usually refer to riding a motorcycle as "being out on the open road." Me, I was trapped inside my own damn helmet. At 60 mph.
So for those of you wondering why I haven't been posting lately, well, I guess you can say I've been going through a few... things. Don't like to worry people. I'll get over this stuff. Been reading up on anxiety, fear, that sort of thing. Been seeing my shrink and takin' my pills like a good gal. Got an appointment with the psychiatrist tomorrow, in fact. Takin' my car.
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