Colleen Kane

On Banks: Little Things

It's not breaking news that many American consumers are fed up with their bloated corporate banks. Online resources like Break Up With Your Mega Bank can give you the top reasons why, as well as what to do about it: namely, move your money to a smaller institution that values your patronage and treats you better.

One of my resolutions for 2012 was to switch my money from Chase to a community bank or a credit union ASAP, which I did in January. I opened an account with Alliant, a national credit union. In addition to the reasons linked above, here are a few little examples of why I dumped the big bank.

1. Chase is all like, 'Either respond to this letter or we're putting you on a bunch of mailing lists.'

In November I got a letter from Chase saying if I didn't respond via mail, fax, or online to state my preferences, I "may begin to receive offers in the mail about these products and services" (there were nine categories of products and services listed above).

Sigh. So I stated my preferences online, then got this:

 

"After five years (or sooner if you move), you'll need to contact us to renew your choices."

Don't you love it? Because in time you might decide that you do want to get loads more junk mail after all. Also, this fix is only good for five years or until you move, and then you better hope your chosen reminder system was something better than a Post-It note. At that time you have to figure out where you call or go online to re-state your preferences. You know all those tasks you need to do when you're moving? Add this to the list. Why? Because fuck you, we're Chase Bank.

I Sent More Coo-Coo Mail to Sierra Club

Perhaps you recall my ongoing correspondence with the Sierra Club. Perhaps additionally, as a probable resident of the United States, you are aware of the heat wave going on. Well! If you would like to know what happens when your hostess receives correspondence from her favorite extravagant envelope-stuffers while crazy from the heat, read on!

So, I got another mailing from the Sierra Club.

 

I Sent Coo-coo Mail to Sierra Club

Long time no blog! (Blogging in 2011? Tl;dr!) It's been a rough first half of 2011, to be honest. I'm not really myself. So you'll have to forgive me, but after coming home to yet another mailing from Sierra Club, I had to respond in a way that I knew would be recieved as crazy when it reached its destination. And I also had to share it with you. 

(unreadably small illustrative preview:)

Swag by Swagwest

Ever heard the term "swag"? It's supposedly an acronym for "stuff we all get" (for free). But really, we don't all get swag, or it wouldn't be worthy of a special nickname, would it? If it were something we all got, swag would mean like, "old," or "beaten down by life."

I'll tell you what swag is: it's stuff some of us get for free, usually for promotional reasons. It's actually how some of us, ahem those of us in publishing who only make like 10 grand a year, supplement our incomes and lifestyles, because we don't have a choice. And so, unlike other dignified adults who have worked in their professions for years and receive the expected monetary compensation, some of us in publishing don't have your "home ownership," your "new clothes and furniture," your "cars with functioning passenger side doors," your "option of having children," but we do have...15 spare pairs of fancy shampoo and conditioner.

Well, that is no longer true about the shampoo, but let's just say that after working at Naked Man Magazine, I didn't have to buy shampoo for a long time, and while I have had to purchase body wash, I anticipate never having to buy bar soap again.

Jealous? If you're not yet, let me show you some of the more successful and not-so-best swag from this year's South by Southwest conference/ trade show/ festival in Austin, Texas, where they start you off with a bag or two full of free stuff and you are constantly handed items for the duration of your time there. 

How About Dat

[Image ripped off from here]

We had the neighbros over to grill and watch the fateful Saints game on Sunday. As most of us are well aware, I hate sports, but between doing my rug hook project, wondering whether human babies could ride on dogs if given the right saddles, then this compelling question being ignored by those absorbed in the game, then engaging in a game-long texting session with ECS, it was fun after all.

Everyone was taking it so seriously ECS and I couldn't resist asking dumb questions to our respective rooms: "Who are we rooting for, again?""Why does everyone care about that Faver guy, is he like the team captain?" and "Is this the Superbowl?" None of this was particularly well-received on my end, but no matter.

When outside during the game, you could hear cheers from other parts of the neighborhood whenever "we" scored. When the Saints won the game, a fine noise and many WHO DATs, fireworks, and gunshots ensued. The spirit was contagious. I'm enthused to be in Louisiana for their first ever Superbowl and see how insane it gets.

However, one aspect of the post-game festivities struck me as most curious. 

The Birthday Visitors

Two of my best friends, Karin and Therese, flew to Louisiana last Friday. Unfortunately, they happened to visit at the ugliest time possible. Following a recent deep freeze, this normally lush and florid state was bleak, and could have doubled for the set of The Road: yellow lawns, drooping brown plants, mostly leafless trees. In what's left of our once- pride-worthy back yard, banana plants are frittered and mighty elephant ears are poached.

It was an appropriate stage for a most gothic visit.

I Make the Salads that Make the Young Girls Cry

Above is a sign I've been meaning to photograph for probably about a year now. You know, just in case any of you need it.

Below is another one.

 Which driving school would you rather: "ALERT," or another local school called Angelwood? The former has the classic misused quotation marks, negating the word they're trying to emphasize, and the latter name contains a word for someone who used to be alive. Neither instill much confidence, driving school owners.

A San Francisco Treat

San Francisco! The city by the bay, the city full of gays, and residual purple haze, and so forth.

I visited SF for just a day ten years ago, expecting to want to move there, hit mostly tourist spots and only found it okay at the time. This visit I had slightly more time and a native tour guide, and came away loving the city and wanting more. (I wish many of my trips weren't so brief, as it's not the ideal way to see the world, but it's better than not visiting at all.)

My native tour guide was Maggie of SXSW blog-post fame, who is officially the best San Fran tour guide possible. One highlight was brunch at Absinthe in Hayes Valley (below), where Jamie from Top Chef is executive chef, which rocked. Your girl over here tried a first few teeny orbs of caviar, and found them intriguing.

Dawg day afternoon

So like, there was another game or something on Saturday? I got an international call from ecs Friday night, and I mentioned that we were going to tailgate on Saturday. She said, "Your social life involves sports now," and I had no comeback for that. Yeah, I guess sometimes it does. Not really my decision. This time, two members of our gang were not new to Southern college football tailgating, but were new to the LSU experience, so they were rather wowed. I was no longer phased.

BFD. Why wouldn't there be a purple and gold stretch limo with sporting scenes airbrushed all over it?

Friday roundup, moodswing style

Yesterday morning I was awoken by a knock at the side door from Butch, who doesn't live anywhere near Louisiana and who I wasn't expecting in town until Saturday for the Georgia game. All this minus coffee = confusion, but he again came bearing Yeungling (which is how you should arrive if you might be waking someone up), saying I've been sounding down lately so he thought this would cheer me up. I like the way he thinks.

But while I had been rather down lately, which felt like it was something physical over which I had no control, meanwhile I'd had an upswing, and again I'm wondering if it's something in the air or what. It's too early to even mention but (here goes anyway) I've been improving health & diet-wise, keeping up more with the house, and somewhat reclaiming mojo writing-wise, which are all contributing to a better overall outlook. With the wedding is coming new era; I'm going to get rid of a lot of this old crummy stuff I've accumulated for years, and before long we'll get new nice things the way people our age should have. (I'm aware that there's such a phenomenon as bipolar disorder, but this swing is not extreme enough.)

Meanwhile I'm inclined to post about boring little happinesses, like how pleased I am by the basil growing Gangbusters in the window even after a pesto harvest. This was the kind of Stepford blog I used to rail against, but you know it won't always be sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows on my blog.