Met Life Blows Too

  • by Drew

We recently got our annual policy summary from our home insurance provider. The insurance is paid by our mortgage company from an escrow account- standard practice in NY – so we don’t pay the yearly bill, we just get the paperwork. The thing is, I was reviewing the policy, a solid 50 pages, and came across a little insert. It informed us that we did not receive the best policy rate because our credit is not perfect.

Hmmmmm. In the past 10 years, any time I have applied for a loan or credit of any sort (and there have actually been quite a few instances what with home equity lines, car loans, business loans, etc.) I have always gotten an enthusiastic “wow, you’ve got excellent credit” back from the banker/broker/whatever. So this little Met Life bit kind of perturbed me. I began to wonder if maybe something had gone horribly wrong – like identity theft or something. Why else wouldn’t we get the excellent credit rating?

Well, it turns out we are going to do some work on the house and had to apply for a line of credit. In the process we reviewed our credit report along with the applicable scores. There are 2 flavors of FICO and something else called BASHTA or something. While the numbers vary, our scores on all 3 are well in the excellent range, and in the new version of FICO, we are near perfect. The only thing that has brought our scores down from perfection is that we’ve opened a number of lines lately. These would be a car loan in August, a retailer credit card (to get a freebie) and a new personal checking account to get away from Chase this Summer – you may remember how much I hate Chase.

Anyway, it would seem that we are once again being penalized for actually paying our bills and stimulating the economy through actual spending. Is this not incredibly ridiculous? So Met Life gets the big raspberry and I’m thumbing by nose at Snoopy. Hell, I’m flipping him the bird and I ain’t talking Woodstock. I understand that these are tough economic times, but do these mega corporations really think they improve their bottom line by jacking rates on the handful of customers that are actually paying their bills on time.

I know that I’m just one small person with one small account, but just as I am leaving Chase in the dust and switching all of my banking, lending and credit business to other, better providers, I am now looking for a new provider of home and auto insurance. Customer Service is key. Get it right or get lost. And if your providers are treating you like a second class citizen, vote with your feet, people. I have discovered that Chase is actually hurting from all of the defections, and when they jack their fees to compensate, let’s hope even more people jump ship.

Port Sushi

  • by Drew

I’m down in Virginia at my company’s home office again. Once again I am enjoying the modern-stylings of the aLoft hotel. Incidentally, I am leaning toward uh-loft as the proper pronounciation since I’ve noticed heavy use of the word “aloha” in their corporate personality. The desk guy said, “Aloha” when I checked in. The room key card has ‘aloha’ printed in the top corner. The recorded woman’s voice on the wake up call opened with the greeting “Aloha!”

So.

Last night we had a nice dinner at a sushi place. I had a ridiculous plate of many colors and ate every single bite. It was quite nice.

There were about 10 of us, and for a long stretch of the conversation we talked vacations. As usual I was in the minority. There was a lot of talk of Outer Banks rentals, Key West, Aruba and the Bahamas. Las Vegas also came up a few times. Nobody, though, mentioned Branson, MO. I considered bringing up the Vegas of the midwest, but the convo took a turn and I forgot all about it.

Eventually somebody posed the question to me – where would I like to go. I gave it some thought and realized where my top destination pick is right now: Portugal. It just came to me, but after further thought, I’m sticking with it right now.

I’d definitely love to return to France. Spain and Italy both call to me as well. But right now, I think Portugal is my top pick. I’ love to sample some real Port, in-country. I’d also like to explore the wines a bit more. In the past years I have uncovered a few real Portugese gems of the luscious red variety. There was a pretty great syrah from Fado. And they had an inexpensive blend of syrah, Touriga Nacional and some other stuff that was a pretty yummy every day. And who could forget Cortes de Cima.

Yeah, Portugal. So, if you’re looking for a late birthday gift, or maybe early Christmas…

wink wink.

Get me some Putz Insurance

  • by Drew

I flew out of Stewart in Newburgh with a connection in Philly to get to Norfolk, Virginia. It wasn’t bad, a far better experience than my last trip northward about 6 weeks ago. But, as is wont to happen, there were some unhappy folks on the plane. When we boarded the little jet in Newburgh, a nasty 50-something woman bitched and moaned her way onto the plane.

She was directly in front of me getting on the plane and when the extremely pleasant Kentucky-based flight attendant asked how she was doing, the woman went right into it.

“Not good at all,” she said. The flight attendant started to respond with sympathy, but Nasty Pants just went on a tear.

“You made me miss my plane and stay overnight at that awful hotel and now I just want to go home,” she ranted.

Masterfully maintaining her composure, the flight attendant replied, “I just work on this plane, ma’am. I didn’t cause you to miss anything.”

I actually laughed out loud and got a delightful smile in response. “You know it’s all your fault,” I scolded her and she chuckled. The bitchy one didn’t even hear. And she spent the rest of the boarding time moaning about the seat, switching three times before we took off, and once after.

Other passengers on the packed little jet (only like 50 seats) were in surprisingly good humor and willingly swapped with the nut job, but she showed no appreciation. Of course. She clearly had a ‘me against the world’ view, and, well, what can you do. I mean, annoying nasty pants travel insurance would be nice, but I haven’t seen it offered. Not yet, anyway.

Hmmmmm. All I need is a business plan…

Opening Day

  • by Drew

That’s right, I’m writing about sports. Who would have thought this day would come? But I’m not here to talk about Major League Baseball. I don’t really care about the Mets, Yankees, Red Sox, Citi Field or roid testing. I am, however, very keyed in to the season opener this Saturday – of the Taconic Little League. Yup, my six year old is about to start his second season.

Check this out, though. No more tee ball. Can you believe it? For whatever reason, our league decided to abandon tee ball this year. That means my first-grader has to hit a pitched ball. Oh my. Needless to say, we’ve been doing some practicing at home because he most definitely has inherited Daddy’s  native skills.

At the second practice a couple days ago when the coach (an amazingly patient and great guy) said, “OK, let’s try and catch some high pops,” I burst out laughing. Hysterical laughter. Like, Cesar Romero as the 60s Joker laughing. I seriously thought there was a visit to the reconstructive dentist in our immediate future. So far, though, the only ball to hit him in the face was thrown by yours truly, and it really just glanced off his cheek.

No, I wasn’t using him for target practice. The last couple days it has been pretty warm in the morning. While waiting for the bus we’ve been throwing the ball around. He’s actually keeping his eyes open now and is getting fairly decent at catching my version of high pops.

Plus, I’m getting some exercise in the morning. I mean, it’s no major fat burner or anything, but it’s better than my usual morning workout of reaching for a coffee cup and lifting the kettle. And he did whip one by me this morning. It rolled straight down the driveway and across the street. Suddenly I was 9 years old again, scampering for a loose ball, casting glances left and right before darting across the street.

Got a little winded there. I guess baseball season has officially started.

Kiddie Stars

  • by Drew

Noah just said, in his three year old voice, “Daddy has big peanuts.” He had been talking about things he’d like for a snack and he mentioned peanuts. Carol told him we have no peanuts and this was his response. He was, of course, referring to a bag of shelled peanuts I have, but…well, it was pretty hilarious because it sure didn’t sound like he said peanuts.

And this little moment of comic relief got me thinking about child stars, child actors, whatever. I am forced to see dozens of them in various Nickelodeon and Disney vehicles on a more or less daily basis in between episodes of Spongebob or Phineas and Ferb. I am continually blown away by just how untalented most of these kids are. I mean really really untalented.

They all have shows featuring recycled 80s sitcom plots and excruciating, scenery-masticating performances. They all have albums featuring comically over-digitized vocals. They all have music videos modeled on 80s MTV hits. And I can’t help but wonder…where did it all start?

Many of these kids are the unholy progeny of industry tools. Some have a more apparent lineage including my personal favorite target, the soon to be revealed as a young priestess of the dark arts – Miley Cyrus. And the small number of remaining gnomes that don’t have a relative in the biz? They started with overzealous parents and megabucks paid to entertainment lawyers and kiddie agents.

And why…WHY!!!! did they put their kids on this path? Probably because the little monsters had a penchant for cute little smiles and funny little statements. No, Miley probably never said anything about Billy Ray’s penis or peanuts…probably. But still…

I have a great appreciation for those actors and actresses who parlayed early success in the entertainment industry into meaningful vocations somewhere else. Like Mayim Bialik from Blossom who is a mom with a PhD in Neuroscience from UCLA. Or Jeff Cohen, who played Chunk in the Goonies. Now he’s a handsome and successful entertainment lawyer.

Isn’t that a lot better and far less pathetic than Keisha Knight Pulliam (Cosby Show) on Fear Factor, or Joey Lawrence (also from Blossom and some other shows) on Dancing With the Stars?

And some of them return to the entertainment biz after a reasonable break. Like Danica McKellar from the Wonder Years. She took a break, got a Math degree from UCLA, then came back with a part on the West Wing. That’s cool. And how can we forget Neil Patrick Harris? after Doogie Howser, he was destined for a lifetime of rehab and Leif Garrett-esque escapades, right? But no…he disappeared. For a long long time. And when he resurfaced it was in Undercover Brother, Harold and Kumar and How I Met Your Mother. He’s a freakin’ rock star!

Maybe if we provide these little douche nozzles a list of degree programs by state they can take a break from indentured servitude to Nickelodeon and Disney…or is it simply in-Disneyed servitude.

No matter, if the mouse will grant them a few years of reprieve, maybe Miley and Haley and Miranda and Demi and all the rest can actually read a book and drink a domestic beer on a second hand couch in a frat house. But, more likely, they’ll just read a script about it while considering the next direct-to-DVD project.

Uh-loft or Ay-loft…

  • by Drew

It looks like I need to make one more trip down to Virginia for work, and then it should be a while. I mean, since October I’ve gone pretty much once a month with a break in February, I think. I’ve stayed at a few different hotels on these trips – there are a ton of new ones in Chesapeake. It is this hot new commercial spot like 20 minutes from Virginia Beach where my company’s headquarters are located. And there are some other big HQs in the area. Dollar Tree corporate is down there – I drove by.

And seriously, there are tons of hotels. You see all the major chains, but there are also these extended stay hotels that are, I guess, for people who do heavy long term consulting, or maybe management training types who need to spend a week or two at the corporate HQ before taking over their own XYZ franchise. 

Last time we went down I stayed at one of the newest ones, a place called aLoft. There was some discussion about how to pronounce it – long A? short A? Who knows. Who cares.

It was a neat spot, though. Kind of like a little Manhattan studio without the kitchenette, though you could probably get a hot plate. It was very square and very modern. It’s not my personal style, or our decorating style at home, but I was definitely digging the vibe. There really wasn’t any furniture, just built in cubicles and countertops that acted as dresser/bureau/closet/shelves. And they had a magazine rack next to the toilet with Wired and Business Week and Cycling. It was both amusing and…kind of cool.

Oh, and a huge flat-screen TV on the wall. That was a pretty popular detail. And the lobby bar with the fiber optic impregnated bar – that was cool too. Though their bourbon selection was kind of lame. I mean, they had Maker’s Mark, so that was alright, but I would have liked some esoteric small batch something or other. But hey, nobody’s perfect.

Sick of It

  • by Drew

Man, there’s been way too much sick going on at the homestead. We’ve all been hit over the last couple weeks, and right now we seem to be enduring round two. Why does it seem that Winter cold and flu season has nothing on early Spring? I feel like we get through the major cold and dark times with minimal illness only to be felled, as a family when the bulbs are starting to poke out of the ground.

I spent the night trying not to cough, while the boys alternated between bouts of coughing and fitful sleep. Just as Jake wold quiet down after an hour of hacking, Noah would start.

At least this morning I’m starting to feel a little better. I mean, not runway model in sexy lingerie better…my throat is still kind of scratchy…but I feel like I’m trending up after a few days on the decline.

And Noah actually slept in a couple hours past his normal wakeup time, so maybe he’ll be following me uphill today. I really hope so because I am so sick of the coughing.

I’m sick of me coughing. I’m sick of kids coughing. I’m sick of wife coughing. I don’t even want coffee because it makes me think of coughing. What I wouldn’t give for a silent, cough-free night.

At least on or two quiet nights before the baby comes would be nice. Is that too much to ask?

Where have all the flowers gone?

  • by Drew

We watched the Punisher War Zone movie last night. It’s recently out on DVD, and I had some hopes for it. Not high hopes, but hopes. I mean, I loved the Punisher comic in the old days. The short stretch when I actually collected comics in the 80s was right around the release of the original Punisher mini-series, a pretty awesome release for the time.

When he finally got his first regular series in the subsequent years, I embraced the title and tried to love it. And even though they softened his edges, I enjoyed it…but not enough to keep collecting. I mean, I found girls and fast lost interest in good old funny books, and though it was one of the last titles I continued to read, it didn’t last long.

I must say, I greatly enjoyed the Tom Jane Punisher movie from a couple years ago. Dark and gritty, and certainly violent, but the retelling of his back story made sense, and the movie was a nice, solid, action stomp.

But this new thing…what garbage. I mean, lousy performances, some of the worst accents I’ve EVER heard, and simply gratuitous violence. I feel like they skipped over some moments where they could have actually improved the script in favor of showing splashing blood and pulpy meat. It was violence so extreme that it became cartoonish.

And it didn’t need to be that way. There were certainly artful moments, touches of Ang Lee and John Woo and Luc Besson, but these only represented a fraction of the parts, and the whole they contributed to, well, lacked.

I know this was heavily influenced by the new generation Punisher, heavily driven by Garth Ennis material. Actor Ray Stevenson as the Punisher certainly lived up to this. He had the trademark slicked-back hair and physique bespeaking many many hours on elliptical and nautilus machines. He even did a decent menacing whisper.

I liked a lot of the film processing and color too. There were certain moments that were excellent visual representations of comic book artistry on film. One scene in particular, a church interior that did radiate a bit neon, as observed by Carol, but still, in its way, really looked like a comic book representation of a church interior. It made visual sense to me and I liked it for that.

But all the splashy blood, like so much Cherry Slurpee flying from necks and foreheads and chests and varied stumps… That is the kind of thing that may play in a still frame of a comic book, but on screen it makes me think of a first-person shooter that involves zombies, vampires, aliens or overzealous cheerleaders.

I felt like this was a screenplay written by comic book writers, and maybe this same story would have worked better in that format. The story itself was not awful, and with a few modifications probably could have been as effective and involving as the last Punisher film. But the direction was poor and focused more or the depiction of brutality and violence than the telling of a potentially interesting story. After all, like every classic comic hero, Frank Castle has a motivated back story that drives him to become a murderous vigilante. There’s no reason why you can’t have a bloody action flick with a little character growth and plot. I wish they’d pulled it off here.

Maybe the Wolverine movie will be better.

Modernista

  • by Drew

I was down in Virginia for work again this week. I went down on Monday and came back on Wednesday…sort of. I mean, I was scheduled to come home Wednesday afternoon and that turned into a series of miscues, delays and sleepiness, but it all worked out.

While down there I stayed in a hotel called aloft that has a distinct minimalist, somewhat modern vibe. The room was a big square, the bed was a mattress on a platform, the furniture was more or less built in laminate chunks. There was no proper closet, but instead, a few large cubbies of varying sizes with a curtain you could pull over as a cover. In speaking with a coworker I described it as sort of minimalist metrosexual with a taste of THX-1138. She agreed. Another coworker, one who lives in the area described it as “that new retro place” with clear distaste. Since she is someone I don’t particularly like, and she claimed no interest in checking the place out because she doesn’t “like that kind of thing,” I don’t really care much for her opinion.

For me, it is not the way I choose to decorate my life. Nevertheless, I appreciate the ethic and kind of liked it. I mean, I don’t have a flatscreen hanging on my wall or a glowing blue 50s style alarm clock that lights up noiselessly, I tend toward tv stands and digital displays, but I can appreciate it for what it is. It was like wearing somebody else’s clothes for a couple of days. Why not, right?

Beautiful

  • by Drew

In a few months we’ll probably be describing days like today as overcast and dreary, wet and yucky. But right now, after all that sub zero winter weather, with a bit of bitter black gravelly snow clinging to the mud, today is one hell of a day. People are driving a little friendlier. Grocery store clerks have a twist of a smile on their lips. The usually deadpan and even a little impatient woman at the pizza place is chatty and, dare I say, almost happy.

It’s a turning point kind of day. It’s the kind of day when you feel like there’s sun-shiny hope on the horizon. It’s a day when you’re feeling less half-empty and a little more half-full. Yeah, my sinuses are still screwed up and my neck and joints are achy, and my nose is a little runny, but who cares – a couple of margaritas will make it all go away.

It’s an I think I can actually see the end of winter on the horizon day. It’s a hose the salt off the cars day. It’s a finally get the icicle lights off the gutters day. It’s a let the kids ride their bikes on the driveway day. It’s a maybe my wife will let me set off some of those giant fireworks we bought on vacation in Pennsylvania kind of day.  

It’s the kind of day you feel charitable and warm toward your fellow humans. Hell, it’s such a fantastic day that I don’t even think a hunk of plastique rigged with a Patek watch timer, shoved inside a Hello Kitty lunch box and duct-taped to the bottom of the Evil Blimp‘s * car could make me feel any better.

Yup, it’s a good day. Just beautiful.

 *For those of you who were not regular listeners of my WAMH afternoon radio show circa 1994, the reference is to an indie seven inch I played frequently: Rush Limbaugh Evil Blimp by Neighborhood Texture Jam. Yeah, I hate that fat SOB. But even if he did explode today, I don’t think I could be any happier.

© 2026 Drew Bancroft. All rights reserved. Totally.