Hot, Hot Sex

Dark green, smooth leaves with light green veins against dark red leaves with pale green centers.  Lacey frisee interspersed with shredded carrots and dotted with sweet red grape tomatoes.  Sprinkle some adzuki sprouts and feta cheese.  Drizzle with Lemon Goddess Dressing.  It's a beautiful, sexy sight.  It got me thinking about sexy food versus non-sexy food.  And that's the way my brain works.

Not-so-sexy foods:  Corn dogs, pudding in a cup, pork skins, peanut brittle, rice crispy treats, yogurt, felafel, bbq pork sandwich, sweet and sour anything, fried chicken (anything chicken and anything fried), cole slaw, cornbread, black-eyed peas, pimento cheese, cheese whiz (is it food?),  fried pies, twinkies, moon pies, Chef Boyardee anything, country-fried steak, turnip greens, cream of wheat, grits, oatmeal, chicken livers, calamari, meatloaf, stew, biscuits, pickles, fig newtons, bean dip, fruit roll ups, beef jerky, vienna sausage, baked beans, pickled eggs (just eww)

Sexy foods:  cupcakes ;P, olives, almonds, anything tapas, fondue, brick oven or grilled pizza, caramel drizzle, oysters, lobster, clams, mussels, snow crab, sushi, sashimi, shrimp cocktail,  artichokes,  heirloom tomatoes, sugar snap peas, grapes, strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, gooey dark chocolate, chimichurri, mojo, eclairs, shrimp fra diavolo, panaang curry, cotton candy, thick filet mignon with a glass of good dark red, eggs benedict, lox bagel, ceviche, gelato,sorbet, mango, hand-cut chips with maytag blue cheese, carpaccio with freshly-shaved parmesan, coq-au-vin, marshmallow creme, fresh roasted beets, artisan lettuce, fresh organic carrots, avocados, grapes, tiramisu

And just because a food is on my not-so-sexy list doesn't mean I don't eat it.  Some things are better left untold.

melodia

Tax Candy

Every morning on my way to work, I see people dressed in Uncle Sam and Lady Liberty costumes standing on the edge of a busy street and waving their little hearts out.  It is beyond disturbing that a tax preparation company would go to such gimmicky lengths to advertise their services.  If you've ever thought you had a shitty job, think again.  Honestly, am I gonna hire the agency with corner tricks to do my taxes? 

It bugs me and I just had to say so.

melodia

Transference

It's like I stepped in a time-machine and transported back in time.  This feeling started unconsciously thursday night, when I had snuck outside to grab a smoke.  The wind was blowing something fierce and in the not-too-far distance I could hear wind chimes clanging madly.  From inside the house, Spoon's new release "Transference" was blaring.  Since I don't smoke so much anymore, I copped a pretty decent buzz from the smoke.  Reminding me of a time when I was much younger, hanging in the back yard of a little house in a college town, listening to incredibly talented musicians jam.  One, in particular, who would never remember me in a million years - but hit the big time.  He would remember a friend of mine, I have no doubt.  Although I've lost contact with that friend too.  So, for all I know they are still hanging in some backyard somewhere jamming.  This tangent has a point, and that is "Transference" takes me back to precisely that time.  Which is really ironic.

from Wikipedia:   "According to The Source published in June 2001, "During transference, people turn into a 'biological time machine.'" A nerve is struck when someone says or does something that reminds you of your past. This creates an "emotional time warp" that transfers your emotional past and your psychological needs into the present."

Friday night was spent at the firepit in the back yard with two of my best friends, and still....."Transference" playing in the background.  I was feeling exactly like I did in the days of hanging out by the river with a campfire burning, and watching the flames dance - in search of answers to questions I had about  my future.  Interesting how those questions never seem to be answered.  We keep on keeping on. We keep having a future and we want to know how it's going to go down. Some things never change and that isn't necessarily a bad thing.

Saturday morning I went to my first official knitting lesson at the coolest little yarn shop ever.  Not just a yarn shop, but a boutique as well.  Even cooler is they carry one of my favorite perfumes that I had been looking for for a while now.  A scent that takes me back - inhaling it and evoking feelings of fearlessness and pure abandon, unlimited creativity and adventure. Sitting at the table were 3 other women who were a good bit older than me and while I was enjoying myself and learning a lot, I was feeling out of my element.  I was wondering how in the hell I got to this stage of life that I am sitting with older women knitting.  Me.  The wild child, Buckhead Fuckhead (a whole other story), once starving-artist turned quasi-successful, offbeat hairdresser.  I am knitting, in public....frigging taking a class.  Just as I reached the edge of a panic attack, a punky young girl walks in.  Early twenties with black scene hair, Killers t-shirt and skully sneakers with a 5-foot long scarf in tow that she is still working on.  She took the seat next to me and we both smiled.  I was instantly back in high school.  All of a sudden, knitting was cool again and my new friend and I talked about coffee shops, hair, bands and gaming on the net.   I'll be going back.  Cool kids can knit too.

Saturday night was Cuban food and a movie.  We were the only Americans in the restaurant and I was reminded of the days when I hung out with my Greek friend in places owned by her friends and family.  Me being the only non-Greek.  It's a role I felt incredibly comfortable in.  Looking back, it's a role I've found myself in repeatedly.....the only "non-whatever" in the place.  I like being the 'non'.......'Non is Good."

Post-movie was spent drinking Cupcake Cab with my bud. "Transference" once again playing in the background while we gave each other assessments from an old book I found about self-discovery.  To be completely honest, I don't remember much due to the wine - but I can tell you that I am an "11" which is a good thing I'm told.  I can't help wondering if 11 is the number of 'non'.

So many things this weekend took me back in time.  I have no idea if the new Spoon release had anything to do with it.  It's nothing new and different from the band and seems like a sampling from previous albums as far as lyrics and melodies.  The thing that took me back was the sound, the "unfinishedness" of it, jumping around from one thing to another which is apparently what the band was going for - to sound more like a demo than a final production.

melodia

Love is in the Air

It seems to be going around....love.  Love lists.  Here's mine:

My Yale sweatshirt. Sand between my toes and the sound of surf.   Crystal clear water and powdery white sand.  Music. Music. Music. A fine red wine.  Patron Margaritas.  Cupcakes - key lime is my most favorite.  Cold dog noses and warm dog hugs.  Bonsai trees.  Funky, creative art.  Faces.  Illy espresso and cappuccino.  Steamed Oysters with lemon-garlic-butter. Sushi. Panaang Curry. Fire-grilled pizza. Carpaccio.  Chimmichurri on top of Cuban Steak or Snapper.  Intimate music venues.  Jasmine Pearls Tea.  Yogi Tea.  Caramel Sauce.  Acoustic guitar up close and personal.  Damn-good-fitting blue jeans. Expressive color in hair.  Scene hair.  Long virgin hair.  Short, funky, spiky hair.  Sunsets in the back yard.  Fire-pit chats.  Dinner in the hot tub.  Game night.  Driving curvy mountain roads with the top down and the music blaring.  A day in my art studio when it all goes right - flinging paint on canvas and stepping back wondering where that 'came from'.  Laying on a quilt in the middle of a field on one of the first warm spring days.  The Red Bar.  Randomness. Mick Jagger.  Roger Daltry.  Jim Morrison.  Jimmy Page.  Elvis Costello.  Dave Matthews.  Michael Timmins.  Tori Amos.  Patty Griffin.  Enigma.  Madonna.  KT Tunstall.   Imogen Heap.  Leela James.  Neko Case.   Blondie - friggin Blondie!  Dark blue or purple toenails.  Massages.  The act of smoking, even if i never do again.  Losing myself in the piano.  Meaningful and original tattoos.  Quirky stories and books.  Confident-enough women.  Hot baths. Eucalyptus-Spearmint or Lemongrass Peppermint.  Tiger Balm.  Words.  Humor. Light breezes.  Warm sun on my skin.  Smiles. Hugs.  Love.  <3

I Believe In You

Family.  You are either born into it or you build your own.  My genetic family consists of my dad, for whom I am incredibly grateful.  He is a constant reminder of persistance, kindness, of good and laughter.  The rest of my family, I spent a lifetime gathering - here and there. Friends who have become so intertwined in my life, that the description 'friend' just doesn't cut it.

These are the friends with whom I share pizza in the hottub at sunset.  The friend who teaches me how to use an axe to split wood into kindling.  (Yeash)  The friend who doesn't mind if I beat her shamelessly in a game of cards.  The friend who is willing to brave the Korean Sauna with me.  The friend who makes sure I am not alone when I face tough times.  I'm no where near done, but you get the point.

So, I have this window card one of my friends gave me at Christmas time.  She gave me two and I opened one immediately, saving the second for a day when I needed some extra inspiration.  On the front, it reads "I Believe In You".  I popped it open this morning, as I was facing a day I was feeling uneasy about.  The words couldn't have been more perfect.  "The easiest thing to be in the world is you.  The most difficult thing to be is what other people want you to be."  -Leo Buscaglia

I forgot to mention the window card when we were catching up on the phone tonite.  But, she knows.  She knew when she gave it to me.  That's why she's my family.

So pay to ride the ferris wheel
Smile, all that you can feel
Is gratitude for what has been
-Conor Oberst

melodia

Grace

Creativity and expression through creation mesmirizes me. By disconnecting from one's humanity and allowing the inspiration, the vision and mostly the passion to flow through oneself to culminate in a 'product'. The product being what it is whether a work of art, a structure, a story or a song. The act, the flow of energy from the creator to the creation, is what I consider grace.

Admire the products, be in awe of the grace.

“Gracefulness has been defined to be the outward expression of the inward harmony of the soul” - William Hazlitt

melodia

Treading in the Deep End

Well, it happened - I climbed aboard the Wacko Train. It's a lot more decadent than I thought it would be and I got a nice, cushy window seat in first class. I'm sitting on the edge of my seat, with a racing heartbeat and sweaty palms. Wondering if I will be showered with gifts and prizes by sexy girls in bikinis and high heels as the obnoxious music blares and confetti floats through the air. Or if I will soon find myself sweating, bug-eyed, struggling and tangled in the base of my seat as the train topples over the edge of the Huey P. Long bridge and splashes in the water.

It's not the first time and I'm pretty sure it isn't the last. In order for things to change, you have to open yourself and let it happen. Sometimes you find a beginning and sometimes you find an end. But, all ends lead to a beginning. It's time, I'm ready and I'm open. It's been barely over 24 hours since I quit resisting, and it has brought me great humility and a little pain. Even so, there's this little flutter in me - of relief and of excitement - the cessation of stagnation.

I reach out with my left hand to grasp the hand propped on the armrest and wonder if it's the hand of an angel or the devil. I twine my fingers with the being, take a deep breath and sink into my seat......

melodia

The Indian Princess, Mrs. Piano and The Wacko Patrol

OK, this post isn't intended to make sense - which is partly the point. It is also intended to be a starting point of a series of posts to come. Posts which I hope will help me in sort things out in my head. Nothing earth-shattering, just the sort of sorting I think 'normal' people do on a daily basis. The sort of sorting that I seem to need to schedule time for.

I've thought and said for almost as long as I can remember that I seem to attract weird. If there's a weird person at a party, they talk to me. If something weird happens at a party, it's next to me. Then it seems like the weird will follow me and I will find myself unrealistically linked to that person or event for a while through other people, other events that somehow point back to the original weirdness. The weird starts to snowball, one thing linking itself to another and it becomes almost like a theme. I can look back at my life, whether it be weeks, months or years, and refer to each time period with a name. If all of them had names, that is - because I haven't given them all names. This is just something I started in the last ten years or so. To name a few, there were:

1. The clueless, car-less, dry-cleaner years
2. Wooden Turtle and Wood Heat Period (which overlapped a little with)
3. Don't Fuck With the Worley's Winter
4. Billy, Do You Want Some More Peas?
5. Three Doors Down from the Carny Steakhouse

Anyway.....you get the point.

The weirdness has started again and people and events just started linking today. I've been told that I should blog about the salon and the weird, random stuff that happens. I've got a lot of stories and not so much time to post. I worked 12 hours while the weird swirled around me. My brain is fried and I can't make sense of it and besides I won't figure it out until it is all over. You know, you look back and realize how and why things happened the way they did. Hindsight, they say, is 20-2o. I have no idea what this period will be named, so the remainder of this post will be the phrases that are swirling around in my head. Little tags I've mentally put on events or people. They don't make sense yet, and each has a story which will I will hopefully post at some point. So, now for the debris spinning in my headstorm:

dog-walking Bob and his window-licking dog . stalker of the future Indian Princess . wacko parade of elsie and mrs. piano . wuss hands are a dead giveaway . renters 4 ways . joangie - trading off . angel or gypsy? . fasting ones are standing idle . hungry ones too busy to eat . shock the monkey . 6th gear . food supply . seven ways to sunday

Je T'aime

My problem is not that I don't like anything. My problem is that I like almost everything. I don't have a favorite color. I don't have a favorite song. I don't have a favorite scent. I love photo-realistic to impressionistic and even modern art. I love yarn as much as I love paint. I love digging in the dirt as much as I love baking cookies.I love broken, chipped pieces of indian pottery as much as I love Czechoslovakian crystal buttons. I don't know if this is a healthy mental state or if it's eccentric. I just is.

I love purple for it's mystery, seduction and warmth. I love yellow for it's warmth, vividness and cheerfulness. I love squares for their symmetry, for their equality. I love spirals because they look like they are spinning out-of-control. I love cold, hard, shiny stainless steel. I love a warm, cozy mohair sweater. I love the smell of fresh cut grass on a hot summer day as much as I love the smell of wood burning in the dead of winter.

I love Patty Griffin for her soulful voice, and for the ability to belt out heart-wrenching lyrics with no abandon. I love Neko Case for her "my give a damn just got up and left" approach to lyrics and song, as well as for her haunting voice. I love the Killers for their orchestral masterpieces that meld punk with classic rock, tossed in with just the right amount of blues and even a bit of drama and suspense. I love Angus and Julia stone because they are pure, raw music, emotion and soul....simple. I love K.I.A. and Shinjuku Zulu for the complexity and technicality of their beats and sound, for their creative ability to bring sounds and voice together in a kooky sort of way that just 'works'. I love Carla Bruni for her grace, and her soothing voice singing words in french that I barely understand. I love lyrics, I love beats, I love to hearfingers dance across strings or keys.

I love the vibe, the energy - some call it spirit or soul. The feeling I get when I look at something, when I touch something, when I hear a song. I guess it's the feelings more than the tools. I'm in love with feelings.

melodia

Nee-Nee

Baby Mamas, please. I cease to find the so-called "beauty" of breast-feeding. I don't want to see it taking place at a table in a restaurant. I don't want to see it on a bench in the middle of a shopping mall. Above all else, as a hairdresser, I don't want you to pick up your nearly 2-year old, sit her in your lap and stick her head under the cape while I'm cutting your hair! Seriously, don't. Take it as a hint when I excuse myself immediately after this happens and walk at a quick pace to the restroom. Get a clue when I stay in the bathroom until my assistant knocks on the door signaling to me that it's over.

Honestly, it takes from an hour to an hour and a half to cut and style your hair. Couldn't you take care of the baby before you visit the salon? Can't the baby wait until you are finished? Hell, if it's that necessary at that mintue - go to the bathroom for god's sake. Don't make us who have never had babies (and some who have, actually) watch. Don't make us pretend there's not a child sucking on a tit in the room. A child who will soon be having her 2nd birthday and is walking around and talking. A child who asks for "Nee-nee" should be smart enough to comprehend "Not now. Wait" .......Seriously, really!

HALF INCH

A half-inch isn't much, but it was enough to totally disrupt the entire north portion of my state today. Schools were closed, businesses were closed, the streets were empty and the local news frantically reported all day. Because of a mere 1/2-inch of snow. Granted, the temperatures here have been in the teens and some of the snow turned to ice. But I was not considering it such a big deal. Until I realized that I was one of the very few that ventured out. I looked out the window this morning and saw the light dusting thinking what a pretty ride to work it would be. Never ever did I imagine we were in the midst of Snow Jam 2010.

My assistant called saying she couldn't get out of her driveway. My associate hairdresser called saying the same. My clients called and rescheduled. I shrugged my shoulders and took the rest of the day off. Happy Snow Jam 2010!

LIMITED EDITION

Since I quit smoking, I have acquired a few new habits. One of which is replacing my 6 or so cups of coffee a day with hot tea. Well, not all of them - but quite a few. In the morning I used to fill a Starbucks Travel Mug to the brim with the strongest coffee known to man - and off to work I would go. Now, I fill my to-go mug with hot water and take a hot tea for my morning ride. I have been trying all kinds of tea and when I saw the tea that is good for detoxing your liver and kidneys, I thought to myself "God knows I could use that." It's called Yogi Tea and each teabag has a different (sometimes enlightening) saying on the tag. Like some of my friends (both RL and SL), I have a quite the addictive personality and the Yogi Tea has replaced my coffee and cigarettes as my morning ritual. I have come to refer to the saying on this morning cup as my daily "Yogiscope."

Unlike previous Yogiscope's, today's saying has bugged me all day, It said, "You are not unlimited". My first thought upon reading this was, "Hell yeah I am. I can't get one fourth of my 'to-do' list done in a day. I can't take off work whenever I want. I can't lay out in the sun today. (I could, but who the hell would want to in 20-degree weather)." The thoughts kept coming all day in relation to 'You are not unlimited'. Yes, I have many less limits than a lot of people and not as many more than others. I consider myself to be in the exact middle of the scale of limitation. And I'm not so dense that I don't understand that this Yogi stuff is supposed to have deeper meaning. Even on my deepest level, I still cannot find my way around limits.

I avoided the Yogi tea for the rest of the day, sticking to Tazo instead because it doesn't have any profound little statements attached to it anywhere. Once home, I even brewed a cup of coffee to avoid tea alltogether. Figuring the whole tea habit was now forcing me to be such a deep thinker that I would soon quit brushing my hair and wander around in my fuzzy slippers all day muttering bits and pieces of Socrates and Confucius. I even had the thought that I might need to start smoking and go back to the world of nicotine and caffiene. Pondering this thought, I picked up my mug with both hands to admire it. It's my most favorite mug and has been for about 8 or 10 years. It is big, but not too big. It is hand-painted in cheerful bright tones and signed on the bottom. The handle is perfectly shaped like it was made exactly to fit my hand. It is chipped here and there and I have looked for a replacement for it for a couple of years now. I have purchased a few that I thought could take its place, but they let me down for one reason or another. Mostly I think it's the shape of the handle and how it feels in my hand. Rather than drink my coffee or tea from a pretty, new mug - I pick the chippy old mug. I pick the handmade mug, the unique mug. The mug that is not pretty and will soon be in such bad shape it will need to be discarded.

If Yogi had been sitting in front of me at that moment, I would have thwacked him between the eyes and said....."The tag should have read, 'You are a limited edition.'

Unless It Kicks

It's 7:45 pm, and two glasses of Dr. Jebidiah Drinkwells later I am incredibly happy. Why? Because I hung my 2010 calendar and it makes me smile, and laugh and run around the house blurting useless information - acting smarter and more informed than any of the other occupants of the house. That makes me happy. Inconsequestial bits of useless information....one of the many things that makes me happy. It has nothing to do with the wine....honest.

My favorite pizza place made a calendar and it's quite possibly the coolest thing of 2010. Mellow Mushroom and I go way back to the days of my childhood, bare feet, hippies, love and damn good rock'n'roll. (All you need, really.) Every birthday dinner, my choice was Mellow Mushroom. The last day of school was celebrated at Mellow Mushroom, and every adolescent sorrow was eased by the comfort and pure love of Mellow Mushroom. There was a toilet by the front door with a live, growing plant in the bowl. Is there anything that could make a person happier? Mellow Mushroom had Pac-Man and smelled like incense and all the employees wore shoddy clothes and bandanas and had either long hair or dread locks. Mellow Mushroom was and always will feel like home.

Today's Mellow Mushroom is much more modern, and has expanded into a chain. Now, I live in the boon docks and have a serious drive ahead of me for what I consider quality cuisine. There are a few places within 15 miles or so that I truly love and have excellent food, but they are few and far between. I'm pretty sure it was just for me that Mellow Mushroom bought a really cool old house less than 20 miles from me and opened a fancy pizza joint. The house was formerly a landmark fine-dining restaurant that had been operating for nearly 30 years and has closed. It was uber fancy for this area and now it's an uber-fancy Mellow Mushroom. I have no idea how I manage to luck-up, but I do quite often. All I can say is I must be living right.

And now, there's a Mellow Mushroom calendar. Just when I thought life couldn't get any better. There will not be one single day in 2010 that I won't at least smile at my calendar. Elvis' birthday is coming up on the 8th of January and Jimmy Page (from Led Zeppelin in case you don't know) was born on Jan 9th in 1944. Be sure to get your birthday card in the mail for Rob Zombie so it arrives by the 12th, and don't forget to wear your hat on the 15th for Hat Day. Add popcorn to the shopping list so you can celebrate Popcorn Day on the 19th, and get your arms in shape for World Hug Day on the 21st. There's also Kazoo Day on the 28th and Yad Sdrawkcab(read it backward) on the 31st. Oh...happy Trivia Day, which is today :)

For Reasons Unknown

Happy 2010! It’s a new year and a time for renewal, rejuvenation, new things, new songs, new words and hope for a an even happier 2011. I planned on starting to write (on the urging of a very good friend). I was not, however, planning on it being in the form of a blog. Sometimes you gotta just take what you can get. Other times, one thing leads to another. Life is full of surprises. It was an online friend that led me to the world of blogging, which I immediately jumped on as a not-so-serious form of writing. Somewhere that I can just ramble on in my ‘stream-of-consciousness’ way and possibly get some of this useless minutiae off my lil’ pea brain.

I am more than hopeful for the year ahead of us. For so many reasons, both personally and globally. I sit here smirking as I think, “It can’t get much worse.” While at the same time, thinking - “Oh hell yeah, it can get soooooo much worse.” Occupationally speaking, it has been and with the slightest shift it could be again. It’s been a rough year. Last year was a rough year. Not just for me, but for the majority of the masses. That being said, so many people have it so much harder than I. I am so grateful that I still have a business, a job, a house, a car. Actually, not much of my life has been affected and for that I am supremely grateful. Comparatively speaking to my late teens and most of my twenties, I am rich. One of these days, I might go into the stories of my meager and penniless years. Trust me, there are chapters upon chapters. As far as our economy goes, our current state has been in the building for years upon years. It’s a result of greed and nothing else. And in case you have forgotten or have been mislead - our economy is not determined by one man - whether his nickname is “W” or “O”, whether he is black or white. I could throw in “whether he is intelligent or not” - but I’ll leave that to the political ‘experts.’

I could write tonight about my recent accomplishment of knitting my first scarf. Honestly, that was gonna be the debut story of my blog. I am so proud of not only finishing a brand new project, but also of the thought behind it and even more so the accomplishment behind knitting in the first place. After 27 years, I’ve managed to quit smoking, and I feel good about it. My house and clothes are starting to smell good and I’m happy about it. I’m happy that I’m not jonesing for something that I know damn well is no good for me. I breathe better. I taste better. I smell better. I feel better. Life is freakin’ better! Indeed.

Now for my rant…..my Erin Brockovich moment, or one of many to come. I started my own business nearly 7 years ago. Upon the advice of financial guru, Suze Orman, I financed my business on credit cards. By the spring of 2008 I was over $60,000 in credit card debt. Just shortly before the beginning of 2009, I received notices from all three banks that my interest rates were being raised to 29.99%. Which I would argue even if I had been late on a payment, or missed a payment. Funny thing is (as I bite my cheek) I haven’t been late. One of these accounts I’ve always paid on time for almost 12 years, and the other two accounts for 5-7 years. I made a payment under 30 days late one time to one of these banks - as it is noted on my credit report. I must have just screwed up. I don’t remember making the payment late and have no idea why it was late. I digress…

Take $60,000 and add in 30% interest. Imagine the monthly payment. There was no way I would survive. My business was down, I had already surrendered my paycheck to my company, absolutely no way I could make any more money than I already did. I called the banks and begged and pleaded for them to reduce my interest rates, even telling them I’d settle for 18% even though my previous rates had been lower. I just wanted to be able to pay my bills and stay in business. All three companies informed me that it was nothing personal and was no reflection on my excellent credit history - that it was just an across the board interest hike. I was told there was nothing they could do about it.

Funny thing is, as predicted, I was not able to make a couple of payments and it’s amazing how my interest could be lowered then. One account was lowered to 0% for 6 months, after which the interest would be 13.99% and the other lowered the rate to 16.99%. ( .99, I’m convinced is because 13 sounds so much better than 14 and 16 sounds so much better than 17...pfft). One year later, I can proudly say that I’ve reduced my debt in half - paying off $30,000. Actually - I’ve probably paid more off by now. I haven’t added it up lately. I have paid two Citibank accounts off and I have reduced my balance with Chase Bank from $27,000 to $2300 - technically $3445, let me explain…..In June of 2009, my balance with Chase Bank was approximately $22,000. In July ‘09, my husband and I put a 2nd mortgage on our house and I sent them a payment of $18,000. With the business expenses I had to charge in July, my ending statement balance on my Chase account for July was $2388.42. In case you were wondering, that’s about 10% of the previous month’s balance. Wouldn’t you be happy if a debtor paid you 90% of their balance? I would. But Chase…..no. Not enough. Not even close.

Less than a month later an account assessor from Chase called my business to reassess my credit. I was so excited, thinking that the company was finally seeing that I was serious about paying off my debt and was going to at last lower my interest rate. Um, no. After asking me a few questions about my business, this man (I use the term very loosely) asked me about my personal income. First of all, this is credit account was opened in my business name, based on my business income. No personal finance information was ever requested or provided by me to Chase Bank. When I told the man that I had no personal income due to the fact that I surrendered my paychecks to my company, he told me that if I did not provide personal income information that he would be lowering my credit limit from it’s current amount of $30,000 to my current balance of $2300. My blood started to boil, I admit and I got a little combative at this point. The conversation between us was much longer and much more heated than I’m going to go into. I have no shame in the fact that I got irritated, angry and unpleasant. He was much the same toward me, and I’m pretty certain a lot of the things he asked and things he said were against the policy and procedure of Chase Bank. The conversation came to an end with him reducing my credit limit and also closing my Pier 1 credit account that I have had for 15 years. I spouted off “I will not send your damn company another penny” before the line went dead. I am a woman of my word.

Six months later, I have still not sent Chase another penny. My balance has risen to $3445 from penalties and interest. I ignored their phone calls for a couple of months, but it got to the point they were calling several times every day and I couldn’t take it anymore. I have been talking to Chase Bank representatives on at least a weekly basis for at least 3 months now. Most of the conversations become pretty heated, because I won’t cave a millimeter and these folks have the goal of collecting money. I got so overwhelmed with daily life and business a couple of months ago, I offered to settle with the company for the amount of $2388.42 - the amount I owed in July. Which would be less any penalties and interest since I made my last payment. I was told that my account in not eligible for settlement, and when I asked why I was told that they didn’t know. They couldn’t tell me. That my account would never be eligible for settlement and they can’t tell me why. I think I can sum up in a few short thoughts here:

1. Thank you, Chase Bank for allowing me to have a credit account with you for 6 years, and for rewarding me for my perfect payment history with you by raising my interest rate from 9.99% to 29.99%

2. Thank you, Chase Bank for taking my countless proactive calls requesting my interest rate not be raised and for giving me absolutely no valid reason for the increase other than ‘everyone else’s interest was raised too”

3. Thank you, Chase Bank for happily accepting my $18,000 check and applying it to my balance, reducing it to $2200

4. Thank you, Chase Bank for reassessing my credit line with you and reducing my credit limit to $2200 and closing my Pier 1 account. God knows, you are saving me from myself and my inability to manage credit.

5. Thank you, Chase Bank for your weekly calls to check in on me. As entertaining as your representatives can be, I’m afraid that I can’t pay you, I can’t tell you why and if it makes you feel any better…’no one else is getting paid either’.