I knew this day would come. Had I done the math, I probably could've deduced it was set to come right around now, but I didn't. It sneaked up on me. My son is starting to like stupid shit. S has been playing him stupid baby songs since he was born, but he never expressed that he enjoyed them over any other song. He couldn't yet clearly demonstrate a preference. Now he can, and the results are not good. We always play youtube videos for him while he eats solids to distract him and make it easier to get a spoonful of food in his mouth. I try to play something I like that I think he might like too, such as the Duck Tales theme song or a Tiny Toons bit set to They Might Be Giants or something like that, but he either gets bored or cranky watching my stuff. However, S stumbled across this Gummy Bear song that he absolutely loves. The first time he saw it he laughed harder than I've ever seen him laugh at a video. Now he watches it absolutely transfixed.
It's great except it's terrible, because the song and video are god-awful. I'll post it below, but I'll also give you a brief overview in case you aren't a masochist and don't watch it. It's this little CGIed gummy bear -- apparently named Gummibär (I knew it was foreign-made!) -- who sings in an electronically modulated voice and dances around to techno-y music in orange underpants. There are also cutaways of him doing various activities like bumpin' his ride, playing the tuba, visiting the Empire State Building, and bouncing on a bouncy ball. The music is evilly catchy -- I defy anybody to listen to it more than once and not have it stuck in their head the next day -- and the video is weird. At one point he shakes his gummy ass, but his underpants are on too low so you see a bunch of gummy crack, and then at another point he puts his hand on his gummy crotch. It's not quite enough to be inappropriate for kids, but still, like I said, it's weird. Also, one of the lines is "three times you can bite me". Anthropomorphizing food is always strange to me. Like the sexy female M & M -- you want to eat something that flirts with you?
Anyway, on to a different topic...
I've said it before, I'll say it again. I don't like the Tea Party, I don't subscribe to most their principles, but I get why they exist. If you don't get this, move to D.C. and try to deal with a city agency. You will go insane trying to navigate a needlessly complex bureaucracy staffed by mostly indifferent or incompetent people. That is, when you want something from them. When they want something from you, suddenly they're a paragon of efficiency.
Unfortunately, S and I need two things from the city right now. The first is a guest parking pass for our nanny, so she can park on our street without getting a ticket. For the past four months she's been parking in an unzoned area a few blocks away, which she shouldn't have to do, but which she has had to do, because the pass we've requested five times since Christmas hasn't arrived yet. We've literally requested it five times. S called three times, and they never sent it. Then I called a few weeks ago and was assured personally by Bobby at Parking Services that we would have it in 10 days. Of course it never came (so much for Bobby's word). S called again yesterday, and they said they would put it in the mail that night. If they really did this then it should get here by Monday at the latest, so we shall see. Don't hold your breath.
The most annoying part of it all is that there is really no accountability and no recourse. We just have to call up and ask again. They don't even give you a tracking number or send you a confirmation email or anything like that. And it's not like I can go to a rival parking service. I suppose I could try to complain to a higher-up or go down there in person or write a letter or something, but those are huge inconveniences. Getting a pass so that my nanny can park in my neighborhood (a neighborhood with ample street parking, I might add) shouldn't be a political cause. It should be a nothing task. I just don't get why this is so hard.
But the parking pass is actually small potatoes. They main thing we need is to get our social security numbers verified. For some reason we were flagged by DC, and they won't give us our tax refund until we each get a written letter from the Social Security Administration saying we are who we say we are. In order to do this we actually have to go an SSA office in person.
So, annoyed, I go to the office in downtown DC on Wednesday. I wait in line, go up to the desk, tell the man why I'm here, show him my ID, give him my driver's license, he says thank you, and tells me to sit down and wait to be called.
"What? Wait to be called? I just waited in line for ten minutes."
"Yes, now you have to wait to be called."
"But I just need to get verified."
"Yes, so have a seat, please."
"But didn't you just verify me?"
"No, sir. Have a seat and wait to be called."
I look out over the throngs of people waiting to be called. It's standing room only... well, standing room or packing-yourself-between-two-women-with-ghetto-booties room only.
"How long is the wait?"
"Don't know. Could be a half hour or more."
"I don't even understand why I'm here. Why do I even need to verify my social security number?"
"To get it verified."
"And you didn't just do this when you took all my information."
"No [annoyed]. You have to wait."
I find the two people with the smallest asses and squeeze my way between them. This place makes the DMV look like a well-oiled machine. You don't take a number, there are no screens counting people down, you don't know if you're behind all these other people or if you're waiting in separate queues or what. You just sit and wait.
I'm there about five minutes when I overhear the woman next to me say she's been there for 35 minutes. I get up and walk out.
It felt pretty good to just leave, truth be told, but it's not exactly a victory. I just have to go back another time, and S has to go at some point, as well. I'm going to try a different strategy though. Now that I know what a clusterfuck it is, I'm going to go to a different location -- one that isn't in the heart of the city, one that isn't easily accessible by public transportation, at all, and I'll try to go at an off-time. Oh, and I'll bring a book. Actually, I won't. Nobody brings a book anywhere anymore.
OK, until next time...
It's great except it's terrible, because the song and video are god-awful. I'll post it below, but I'll also give you a brief overview in case you aren't a masochist and don't watch it. It's this little CGIed gummy bear -- apparently named Gummibär (I knew it was foreign-made!) -- who sings in an electronically modulated voice and dances around to techno-y music in orange underpants. There are also cutaways of him doing various activities like bumpin' his ride, playing the tuba, visiting the Empire State Building, and bouncing on a bouncy ball. The music is evilly catchy -- I defy anybody to listen to it more than once and not have it stuck in their head the next day -- and the video is weird. At one point he shakes his gummy ass, but his underpants are on too low so you see a bunch of gummy crack, and then at another point he puts his hand on his gummy crotch. It's not quite enough to be inappropriate for kids, but still, like I said, it's weird. Also, one of the lines is "three times you can bite me". Anthropomorphizing food is always strange to me. Like the sexy female M & M -- you want to eat something that flirts with you?
Anyway, on to a different topic...
I've said it before, I'll say it again. I don't like the Tea Party, I don't subscribe to most their principles, but I get why they exist. If you don't get this, move to D.C. and try to deal with a city agency. You will go insane trying to navigate a needlessly complex bureaucracy staffed by mostly indifferent or incompetent people. That is, when you want something from them. When they want something from you, suddenly they're a paragon of efficiency.
Unfortunately, S and I need two things from the city right now. The first is a guest parking pass for our nanny, so she can park on our street without getting a ticket. For the past four months she's been parking in an unzoned area a few blocks away, which she shouldn't have to do, but which she has had to do, because the pass we've requested five times since Christmas hasn't arrived yet. We've literally requested it five times. S called three times, and they never sent it. Then I called a few weeks ago and was assured personally by Bobby at Parking Services that we would have it in 10 days. Of course it never came (so much for Bobby's word). S called again yesterday, and they said they would put it in the mail that night. If they really did this then it should get here by Monday at the latest, so we shall see. Don't hold your breath.
The most annoying part of it all is that there is really no accountability and no recourse. We just have to call up and ask again. They don't even give you a tracking number or send you a confirmation email or anything like that. And it's not like I can go to a rival parking service. I suppose I could try to complain to a higher-up or go down there in person or write a letter or something, but those are huge inconveniences. Getting a pass so that my nanny can park in my neighborhood (a neighborhood with ample street parking, I might add) shouldn't be a political cause. It should be a nothing task. I just don't get why this is so hard.
But the parking pass is actually small potatoes. They main thing we need is to get our social security numbers verified. For some reason we were flagged by DC, and they won't give us our tax refund until we each get a written letter from the Social Security Administration saying we are who we say we are. In order to do this we actually have to go an SSA office in person.
So, annoyed, I go to the office in downtown DC on Wednesday. I wait in line, go up to the desk, tell the man why I'm here, show him my ID, give him my driver's license, he says thank you, and tells me to sit down and wait to be called.
"What? Wait to be called? I just waited in line for ten minutes."
"Yes, now you have to wait to be called."
"But I just need to get verified."
"Yes, so have a seat, please."
"But didn't you just verify me?"
"No, sir. Have a seat and wait to be called."
I look out over the throngs of people waiting to be called. It's standing room only... well, standing room or packing-yourself-between-two-women-with-ghetto-booties room only.
"How long is the wait?"
"Don't know. Could be a half hour or more."
"I don't even understand why I'm here. Why do I even need to verify my social security number?"
"To get it verified."
"And you didn't just do this when you took all my information."
"No [annoyed]. You have to wait."
I find the two people with the smallest asses and squeeze my way between them. This place makes the DMV look like a well-oiled machine. You don't take a number, there are no screens counting people down, you don't know if you're behind all these other people or if you're waiting in separate queues or what. You just sit and wait.
I'm there about five minutes when I overhear the woman next to me say she's been there for 35 minutes. I get up and walk out.
It felt pretty good to just leave, truth be told, but it's not exactly a victory. I just have to go back another time, and S has to go at some point, as well. I'm going to try a different strategy though. Now that I know what a clusterfuck it is, I'm going to go to a different location -- one that isn't in the heart of the city, one that isn't easily accessible by public transportation, at all, and I'll try to go at an off-time. Oh, and I'll bring a book. Actually, I won't. Nobody brings a book anywhere anymore.
OK, until next time...
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