Dr Johnsons' post-watershed word of the day

Dr Johnsons' post-watershed word of the day

Aw, hey! I've missed you guys! You're looking great! Have you been working out? Me? Oh, I've been a bit slack recently.









Geez, fishing for compliments, much?








Well, some of us would benefit from a bit more exercise and a bit less navel-gazing, Mr Gouty-pegs!








Fuck off - you know thats hereditary.







Anyhoo, my little wordsmiths, we're going a little bit naughty today, with three words that mean very different things depending on where you plan to use them! And I'm not just talking about pronunciation issues (I'm looking at you, the delightful Mickey Flanagan)! If you're a cunning linguist then you've probably come across 'fanny' before...

Fnar!!!

Grow up! You know what I meant. In the US this is a slang term for your bottom, but in the UK its actually slang for a lady's vajayay.







Yeah, I think you'll find we invented the fucking language, so I don't know how you guys got so
confused. You don't know your crack from your clunge!





Gross.
Secondly we have a US term that has very different connotations in the UK, bearing in mind the use of the word 'bum' as slang for 'bottom'.

bum-rush

verb

USinformal

Suddenly force or barge one's way into.





Pfffffffft!!








Seriously, grow up.

Finally, a rather offensive slang term for a homosexual man in the US, 'fag', can be heard throughout the sixth form common rooms of the British Isles, as young people ask to 'bum a fag' meaning to 'have one of your cigarettes'.







BAHAHAHAHA!!










Dammit! I can't take you anywhere!

'Dickhead' is the same both sides of the pond though, right?

Jerk.

Dollar bills, ya'll

It wasn't til I was in Starbucks and the creepy guy behind me told me not to playfully toy with my debit card that I realised how fucking easy it is to fraud-it-up in the US. Its actually laughable.

So, the Social Security number that all proper people in the US are given (DON'T get me started on that. Yes, I have a valid visa. No, I do not have an SSN because I am not really welcome in the US. Whatevs.) and it is super SUPER important. You can't share it with anyone. It is super secure, like a giant PIN. However, because it is so important and it represents all your important deets you have to wheel it out about 3 times a day to every pleb that works in a phone shop, insurance company and bank. Not so fucking secure now, eh?

And what is the reluctance to buy in to PINs on bank cards and credit cards?? I either have to sign for stuff (which, BTW, can be forged. And rarely does the shop clerk check that my scrawl actually matches the card) or I just swipe and go? Wha??? So, I give you my card (which, BTW, is no longer a thing in the UK. You don't ever have to hand your card to someone else. You jam it into the machine and you take it out - at no point does anyone else have their sticky little fingers on it) and then you take as much money as you want without me checking it first? Um, no.

Finally, the cheque (spell it properly! We're not 5 years old - it doesn't have to be spelt phonetically) situation.

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<<Bites finger to stop oneself from laughing out loud>>

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When I transfer funds online from my account to someone elses the bank still has to PHYSICALLY POST A CHEQUE....BAHAHAHAHAHA!! Sorry, I can't even type it without cracking up. I have nothing to say about this, except that perhaps some of the US banking bigwigs might want to shadow a grown up bank sometime soon?

Travel winge 9

So, after a couple of months in Europe visiting family and friends and having my washing done for me (thanks Dad!) and being generally pampered I am now back in the US after a monster of a flight combo. I am tired from the travel, jetlagged and generally a bit ratty, and even the slightest thing is pissing me off.

Philly airport terminal really did cheer me up (nice shops, pretty good food selection), but I do have a few little things that, if everyone could take note, would make my travel much more pleasant. Are you listening, fat woman on scooter who stank of piss? And you, oblivious twat who trod on my be-sock-ed toes? And you, squawking group of east coast hags??

Queuing twats.

1. We ALL want to get on the fart tube as quickly as possible, and the best way to do that is to sit the fuck down and wait til the lady calls your seat number. Until then, don't crowd round the gate like they're giving away free donuts. They're not. I know you want to make sure that there is space for your laughably vast cabin bag, but, here's an idea, take a smaller fucking bag!

2. Man who trod fully on all my socky toes while I sat on the floor against the wall charging my phone: you are a dick. How can you be completely oblivious to an entire (fairly tall) human, squishing herself against a wall with her bag so as not to be in the way? You trod on me like you genuinely didn't see me, and then looked back a few seconds later and appeared genuinely surprised to see me. Dick.

Yoga twat.

3. Why are you doing yoga in a main thoroughfare at the airport. Surely the man who approached you and asked if you were ok while you spazzed out trying to get your ankle over your head should have been a clue that this is not a normal thing to do in an airport. Stop it.

4. And the biggest winge: US Airways - how come I paid you to get me and my luggage from LHR to SFO and it appears that I am doing half the work? Hmm? I had to pickup all 3 fucking huge cases (that I paid extra for, might I add) at Philly airport and lug them, sans trolly, past your fat ground staff to then place them on another conveyor belt and wave them off to SF?? What exactly have I paid for? I want approx $47.52 of my money back, please. Besides, your chubby airport staff could do with a good workout. Just sayin'.

All of that aside, Philly airport was rather nice - they had the same rocking chairs as Dallas, which is a nice touch (although they could do with a few more), plenty of places to charge me gadge and mini exercise bikes for you to get a workout in before you board your next flight. They were like little unicycles on stands. Nice idea.

The wifi was down for most of my time there, which was disappointing, although searching for another network I did notice that I was travelling with a local political celeb. Nice.

Noms from the heavens

Since living in the US I have discovered some mightily delicious items to make me fat. I'm big into my smoothies at the moment, but thats really just to balance out the filthy salty snacks that I've been pushing into my face every day. Exhibit a: Red Lobster Cheddar Bay Biscuits. Oh sweet lordy lord. I'm a fan of Red Lobster anyway (yeah, I know they're going down the shitter, and I know their food is aimed at old people, but its tasty!) and the best bit of the meal is the biscuits. Blistering barnacles, Batman, they taste like the very ambrosia of the gods, sent dan on a cloud of salt and garlic. And you can make them at home. So I do. Frequently.   

In a similar vein, there are these delicious morsels: Chicken in a Biskit (I presume the spelling error was deliberate?) Like crackers (and not the sad Cream Crackers you get in the UK. These are more like actual biscuits) that have been kissed by chicken bisto. Salty, slightly stock cube-y and very delicious when crumbled into soup. Or over a cottage pie. Or eaten from the box on the sofa.

As you may be able to discern - I like salty snacks. These little beauties were discovered in a service station in the mountains. You can't get the butter flavor in quality establishments like Safeway - you have to go to Walmart to get these little fellas. They are cheesy poofs without the cheese. Like popcorn without the little husk bits that stick in your gums. 

Finally, some afters. Banana cream Jell-o pudding is like Angel Delight with more chemicals. You have to buy the one that you cook (the instant one is a bit too wobbly, but the cooked one is like banana custard. Noms)

All of that said, there are still things I really miss from the UK, and its not the stuff I thought I'd miss. Sure, there's Cadbury's chocolate on the list (y'all need to have a chat with the FSA about the atrocity you call Hershey's. All the schmaltzy, sappy, childhood-reminiscing adverts cannot trick me into believing the shite that I just put in my mouth tastes anything more that plastic vomit. It doesn't melt properly! And the AFTERTASTE?? WTF is that? I don't want a Hershey's kiss from someone who's just vomited.) More so that a block of Cadbury's, though, I miss the Fudges, the Flakes and the Milky Ways. 

And on the savory side - Salad Cream!!! Dayum. I watch the lad munch away on fries with ketchup and I crave the vinegar delight of Salad Cream.  

And to wash it all down? Some squash! Yes! Some weak-ass barely flavored water. Thats full of sugar, but lacking in flavor.  Its not a root vegetable with sloppy guts. Its not the same as fruit juice. Its not the same as these terrible low cal water additive atrocities that taste like saccharin from satan's arse. Its what tennis champions at Wimbledon drink - a drop of orange and barley. Refreshing! 

Travel winge 8

This is a plea to the people in Rome airport.

Employees: if you want to have a conversation with your chum about what's for lunch, or to flirt with
the tart spraying perfume in people's faces please do so quietly and not over me while I am being served. Unless you want me to have a loud conversation with my dead grandmother while you are serving me? Its the same thing. You are just shouting in my face. I don't know or care who you are talking to so loudly, through me. Stop it.


Passengers: learn how to queue. That way, we all get a turn. Stop nudging into my back, or using your child to push in front of me.

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Updated: Everyone in Milan airport: this applies to you too. Especially the English douchebag with the scarf. Douchebag.

Happy tax day!

I have bitched about the US approach to sales tax already (even the sales assistants don't know how much something is going to cost until they ring it up?? And then they look all incredulous when you suggest that seeing as they are selling the item they should probably know the key facts about it, like how much its actually going to cost me??) and I have another tax-related winge brewing.

The US is apparently a land of rich people (who hire accountants) and poor people who are fucked. This plays out nicely at tax time when you have to submit a variety of exciting forms to the IRS, having worked out whether you have paid too much or too little tax. Thankfully we had help, because it is all the more complicated if you've moved house/got married/got a new job/are not from round these parts/aren't allowed to work (all of the above). And having collected and collated all this very valuable information about our lives we then stick it in an ENVELOPE and POST it to another human to READ IT and check it and SEND US A CHEQUE?....

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A few issues here:
1. How is this process not totally automated? Its fucking archaic! I appreciate that our situation is not 'normal' but no-one is normal, and there are plenty of people (certainly in Northern Cali) who are in the same position as us, so an automated system should be able to handle our situation.
2. I have to trust the USPS (which has not done me any favours in the past) with this delicate information and then wait 4-8 weeks to hear anything back?? So we won't know if there's anything amiss for 2 months. Epic.*
3. Why am I doing this anyway? In the UK the government uses all those lovely employees to calculate this stuff. I don't have to understand the tax system - someone else is paid to do that for me.

Now, perhaps its not a good thing that UK residents don't fully understand all the intricacies of the tax system because we are then surprised and horrified when we realise that some rich bastards have been abusing a 'loophole' to minimise their tax bill. Agreed. And perhaps having to calculate your annual spend and determine what is tax exempt you have a better understanding of your spending habits and a firmer grasp on your debts. Think again.

People who are able to hire an accounting firm (FML - they have been advertising the shit out of accountancy firms here the last few weeks) will have a better outcome than Joe Schmo who doesn't have an MBA. Joe Schmo still doesn't really understand all the intricacies of the tax system, and rarely finds loopholes, and has as much awareness of his own spiraling debt as his cousin in the UK (so says the current average credit card debt per household in the US: $15,191, added to the $8.15 trillion owed in mortgages and $1,115.3 billion in student loans. In total household debt is up 3.7% on last year.** Excellent work! That system seems to be bang on. Keep it up.*)

The cynic in me thinks that maybe the massive accountancy firms that benefit from this ridiculous tax situation may have friends in high places? Why change a system that keeps thousands (millions?) employed and makes the big accountancy firms alot of money? Anyhoo, I think even Joe Schmo might be a bit reluctant to go through another big change (see Obama care, which everyone constantly winges about). And afterall, this is the land of the free, and we are free to do our own tax calculations. Lucky us.

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*Just in case you missed the sarcasm, its there. Its always there.
** Join me in the big fact hunt: http://www.nerdwallet.com/blog/credit-card-data/average-credit-card-debt-household/

Credit card, my arse. The clue is in the name!

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So, my credit rating in the UK is pretty good, but that's not good enough for a Californian car company (despite printing out my Experian report), so it's time to build some US credit.

First task - find someone to take a chance on this gal and give me a credit card.

Denied - I am on a H4 visa, so no Social Security Number and, subsequently, no credit card (seriously starting to feel very unwelcome right now).

New plan - the husband is welcome in this country, and working for a lovely big company, so, armed with an SSN he should be able to get a credit card, a cuddle and perhaps even a blowie. Not quite that simple - still no credit record in the US, so he has to start at the bottom (husband is not a 'start at the bottom kind of chap. Not 'appy).

Someone should really explain the notion of a credit card to the people we dealt with. We are now the proud owners of a 'secured credit card' that involves $x being taken from our current account and put on the 'credit card' each month. That, boys and girls, is not a credit card. The clue is in the name. There is no credit involved. That's my effing money that you just moved. I could have done that myself. I'm giving myself credit. And by that reckoning, may I ask why you want to CHARGE me for this service that I can provide myself. Oh no, my love, you can take that charge off, post haste.

On the plus side, negotiation seems to be a standard approach here, so kicking up a bit of a fuss over the charge worked well. They have some leeway, and don't seem to get offended, which is a very different to the UK.

Anyhoo, it's not a problem, because we only want to use this damn plastic to prove that we can be trusted with this Monopoly money we call the dollar in order to give ourselves a credit rating in the US, which you will need if you want to do anything (rent an apartment, lease a car, get a loan for a car etc).
I'll report back in 6 months, when we should, apparently, have proved ourselves worthy of a credit rating of some description.