Jump to content

Recommended Posts

Early "Gift" Exchanges

 

My Canadian relatives went back home a day early this year. I warned them I was feeling under the weather and yet they still insisted on staying here. And just as predicted, they got an early present.

 

My uncle spent the entire time here complaining about the tastelessness of American beer. Between holding my head over an electric kettle or feeling like I was coughing up my lungs, I tried to tell him just not to drink it if he didn't like it. To which he just got indignant and had himself another tasteless American beer. And the fuss he kicked up when he drank the entire two-four and it was too late to get to the liquor stores before they closed! How does a lemming drink that much and not pass out?

 

As for my aunt, she spent most of her time at the mall. Just "window shopping" with Melissa. Men of any species are not capable of dealing with malls. Fortunately I had an excuse not to go, but my uncle? I think I just figured out why he drinks so much.

 

As for my cousin, she and her snowshoe hare boyfriend just disappeared into the forest all day every day. But judging by the traumatized birds and the chipmunks who screamed the entire time they were here, I have a good idea of what they were up to. Do those two have nothing better to do with their time? And out of doors, no less? I don't know what irritates me more. The fact that they're doing it or the fact Melissa and I aren't the young, reckless types anymore. Way to make your cousin feel old, Jackie!

 

When everybody was home, our meals were largely what they had at home. I tried to make them something good, I really tried! But when you've got a sinus headache so severe you can't see straight, you're doped up on cold medicine, and you can't taste a thing because you can't breathe, the results can be disastrous. Especially when it feels like something has hit you in the back of the head and you pass out for four hours. Strangely, when I woke up I found my aunt passed out beside me with a bottle of red wine still held in a death grip in her left hand. The gingerbread men were also burnt to charcoal, which is strange because I'd pre-programmed my oven to the right temperature and time and locked it so no one could adjust anything.

 

Hey, wait a minute! The instruction book was also on the counter when I came to! And my aunt was wearing her reading glasses! You don't think...?

 

Oh, it doesn't matter. Every night I've been so tired and sick I said, "Not tonight." Two words few men ever expect they'll utter. And despite sleeping heavily for ten hours a night, I woke up feeling drained. Although Melissa looked quite satisfied every morning.

 

By last night all of them were looking a bit under the weather. Although since my cousin and her...bunny...beau were not in the burrow for sixteen hours a day, I don't think they got sick from me. My uncle was crying because he couldn't taste anything, and he just splurged on a six-pack of German lager he can't take back with him. My aunt was completely out of it and she hadn't a thing to drink. And Melissa? I think she was feeling under the weather because she wanted us to go to bed fairly early.

 

When my relatives' plane took off, you could practically hear the screaming as their sinuses reacted to the change in air pressure. I'm half sure they really did scream that loud. And what's worse, the air on a plane is recycled. A lot of people are going to be sick for the holidays.

 

So Hairy Fishmas! ::passes out::

Link to comment
2 hours ago, worik said:

You did check for smelly puddles and wet carpet under your furniture, didn't you? Sure you did. :classic_confused:

I did and it was all clear. But uncle has been unanimously banned from every mall in this state for backing up the men's room toilets. And from my house after filling up the entire septic tank in just four days. Now I have to call a pumping company to have it drained. Again. That old oak tree (y'know, the one with the yellow ribbon tied on it) can't take much more. I swear, those guys that pump my septic system must be wondering how a fifty gram (okay, okay! Five pound!) critter can fill a fifty-thousand gallon tank in just six weeks...

Link to comment

Another One of "Those" Days

 

I'll start this off with the (kind of) big thing: my grandfather passed away last night after succumbing to pneumonia. In all brutal honesty, I never really knew the man. After he and my grandmother got divorced, he distanced himself from the family--emotionally and geographically--and that was when my mother was still a young child. So I'm not really broken up about it. In fact, my mother isn't terribly broken up about it herself for the same reason. At 83-lemming-years-old, we were expecting his death sometime soon. Half of the funeral arrangements have already been made. Add to the fact he was aspirating his food (improper swallowing causing food to go into his lungs) for years now.

 

Suddenly I have to go suit shopping because...er, the last time I wore a suit was about ten years and several waist sizes ago. In America, at least, the color of mourning is black. Which doesn't work out too well for blue lemmings. We look like giant bruises. The majority of males of all species don't like clothes shopping, aside from a few who may or may not bat for the other team, and this little critter is no different. But do you know how hard it is for lemmings to find clothing that fits? Why do we even buy clothing?! We have fur!

 

There's four hours of my life I'll never get back.

 

Then I have to go grocery shopping for Xmas dinner. No TV dinners and instant ramen this year. Melissa wants a real dinner, which means...working in the kitchen! NO!!!! And the weather is supposed to be so bad over the next few days I can't use that prototype smoker my brother-in-law gave me (yes, a lemming works for Traeger) to smoke the roast beast I bought. That's a lot of milk-maker meat to smoke, so I need at least eighteen hours of half-decent weather. Which isn't in the cards before Xmas. I'm going to have to walk the long mile and...cook! No grilling, no smoking, no barbecuing, just me and that room I barely use.

 

To add insult to injury, the local mega-mart has replaced most of their cashiers with these self-checkout kiosks that barely work when they aren't completely broken. I scan something, it keeps telling me to put in the bagging area. Only the item is in the bagging area. Okay, hit "Skip Bagging." Another item, another bug. Finally it starts screaming there isn't anything in the bagging area and locks out. An employee half my age comes and tries to get it working. The system freaks out and extends an arm and a camera-eye. I point out there are groceries on its "bagging area" and it starts shuddering, sparking, and smoking. Then out of sheer spite, I ask it to calculate the final digit of pi. If it's "smart" technology, prove it!

 

That's when it exploded and sent me flying into a wall of Coca-Cola products. And the resident PR person trying to justify the use of self-checkout systems wound up with egg on his face. Some woman was buying the materials for homemade eggnog when the system blew up.

 

I hate "smart" technologies. They seem to exist just to make us feel stupid.

 

Then on the way back to my car, someone runs over my foot! Not my actual foot but the foot of my human rig. Now I have to find a wooden shoemaker's form, men's size 12, to replace it.

 

Finally, I had to wash the outsides of my windows with a broken "foot." That's one cleaning task I loathe. To the point that the squeegee didn't so much remove the water as it peeled away half an inch of dirt, bugs, and bird droppings before it could wash anything. If I did't think a hammer and chisel would shatter the glass, I'd have used that instead. Actually that might have worked. That much filth is an excellent form of padding.

 

Panting, exhausted, and dirty, I just spent an hour in the shower cleaning my fur of dried soda syrup, ground dirt, and whatever you call the mass that accumulated on my windows. At least my fur didn't poof to the point that I was a walking beach ball.

 

EDIT: I spok tooo son. Sorryy if ther are anny speling mistkes. I cant see th keybard. Dos anyne hav any hair cnditioner?

Link to comment

Holiday Happenings

 

I hate having to host my family Xmas party. Especially after my Canadian relatives left a part of the burrow in a state. The hazmat cleanup teams just finished after working around the clock and even then it will be several weeks before it's safe to go back in there. I still don't know how they managed to re-create the conditions at Chernobyl when they didn't have any radioactive materials. Or how they managed to create PCBs from Kenfucky Tried Chicken and Panda Express. What's the opposite of "miracle?"

 

Aside from having to cook a massive slab of roast beast, straighten up those parts of the burrow I could access, and deal with some last-minute Xmas shopping Melissa wanted to get in, I'm still not completely over my cold. I've taken so much Vitamin C my fur is turning orange, so much zinc I can't get it down, and eaten so much spicy chicken soup I started coughing up feathers and peppers. And I can't even enjoy those chocolate oranges sold at this time of year because I still can't taste anything.

 

My parents come over early and the first thing my father does is ask why I don't have any booze while my mother starts fussing over me and asking me about marrying Melissa and having kids. Alone it would have been bearable, but with Melissa there it was utterly humiliating. And not just because I had to drive into town to buy some bottom-shelf wine and rum so my parents would have something to drink. Not long after I get back my sister and her family arrive. She's in a bad mood because of everything she had to do alone, my bro-in-law is utterly clueless about why she's mad at him, and my three-lemming-years-old nephew is overstimulated and cranky. And it's only three in the afternoon!

 

As you can imagine, things just got worse. About the only thing that didn't go wrong was the roast beast. My parents fuss over their only grandchild and get into an alcohol-fueled fight, bro-in-law gets too tipsy to drive and can't figure out why my sister is even madder at him, and nephew is now screaming and throwing things. For a toddler, he can throw pretty hard. Say...hard enough to wing a mini apple at his uncle's forehead that knocks him unconscious for over an hour. I was still seeing tweeting birds when I finally came to.

 

By then my parents aren't speaking to each other. Again. Bro-in-law is forced outside to sober up. Again. And sis is broken down and crying alongside nephew. Again!

 

So my father decides to let nephew open one present that evening and leave the rest for today. Nephew is happy, sis is able to calm down, and my parents are talking to each other. Only bro-in-law is still in the proverbial doghouse and still clueless about why.

 

After they leave I start the arduous task of cleaning up. Melissa helps me and realizes why I don't see my family that often and why I don't drink except on very special occasions.

 

Fast forward to today. Mom brings over a cheese, sausage, egg, and biscuit casserole that put me over my daily calorie limit with one small plate, nephew is overstimulated again after Santa came, and both sis and bro-in-law are exhausted from staying up late to help ol' Saint Nick. Nephew tears into his new toys and then pitches a fit when his grandmother touches the box one of them came in, going so far as to throw it at her. He winds up in "time out" while the rest of us exchange gifts and try to ignore his cries. Nephew calms down and realizes what he did wrong after five minutes and we all enjoy a nice Xmas morning. All the while my assertions that I don't have the patience to be a parent myself are being reinforced.

 

After they leave, Melissa and I exchange gifts we'd rather the family not see. Among them is $200+ bottle of twenty-year-old scotch. A replacement for the one those college kids shattered last year. As well as things I won't mention. :classic_blush: Hey, even we have a sense of modesty.

 

By afternoon the friends arrive. Cecil and Dave give us a desktop ice maker and some cheap rotgut, both of which we'll need after the New Year and our W-2 forms come. Moose arrives with a sampler pack from his employers. I give them new VR headsets and some fake antlers that can be strapped to the head and used like real ones. Needless to say, the gifts were extremely well received. They left just recently and I had to tackle an all new task.

 

After last year, I'm not taking any chances with the scotch. I immediately wrapped the bottle and the box it came in in bubble wrap, put that inside a cushioned attache case, and put that inside a rubber foam-lined safe. Not lemming-sized containers, either; in fact that safe is a massive gun safe my father gave me after he sold all his guns. But to protect the one time of year I do feel comfortable having a drink with my favorite liquor, I'm not taking any chances. Especially since those same damned kids are planning to come back this year. Yeah, I have spies at the local state U. I just let the ravens eat whatever the MEL can't--or won't--eat after a hunt and they'll do anything I want. And just like the Yautja, the MEL doesn't hunt unarmed prey.

 

Between my cold and all the chaos of the holidays, Melissa and I haven't had any time alone together in weeks. So I'll just finish this by saying stay tuned! You don't want to miss what happens at this year's New Year's Eve party--or what happens with those college kids--do you?

Link to comment
44 minutes ago, Ernest Lemmingway said:

Sounds like we'll both be eating plain salads for a while. :classic_sad:

To be honest, you hit the nail: pan-fried cabbage and peppers+carrots half an hour ago and slow walks in fresh air around the lake.

Those past 48 hours of Armageddon will require a week to recover from it. :classic_ph34r:

Link to comment

NUTS! ?

 

With all of the post-holiday, pre-New Year's crap done, I'm finally able to sit down and enjoy a bag of Macadamia nuts that Melissa got me for Xmas. Well, maybe "enjoy" is a bit strong. They're still in their shells and I'm not making the mistake of using those squeeze nutcrackers again. The last time I used them on Macadamias there were nuts cracked, all right. I had a falsetto voice until spring after I tried jumping down on the handles.

 

My first attempt this time involved me, the nut, and a rubber mallet. I'm not quite sure what happened because one moment the mallet is hitting the nut and bouncing off, the next I'm seeing little blue birds flying around my head.

 

Next I used a steel claw hammer. Just stop and imagine a lemming using a tool taller and heavier than himself. As soon as the hammer hit there was a crunching sound. Only it wasn't the nut. Or the hammer's head. The shock sent through the handle caused me to go all to pieces and I spent the next couple of hours pulling myself back together.

 

At this point this is getting personal. So I moved the nut over to an X scratched onto a rock and proceeded to build a pulley rig so I could drop a boulder on that damned thing! After several hours I had a slab of granite over the target of my discontent and let it fall.

 

Once the ground stopped shaking, the birds stopped freaking out, and my neighbors quit screaming in abject terror, I was able to survey the damage. The boulder had split clean in two but that damned nut hadn't even cracked!

 

Now I just started crying. I was defeated by an edible seed! Again!!

 

That's when the mouse that loves me came over and tapped on the shell with a steel mallet sized for us and caused a perfect split with a light tap.

 

Now I'm sitting at my computer, crying, and eating those Macadamias. Those are the only nuts I'll have for a while. Because my own have fallen off and rolled behind a shelf. ?

Link to comment
2 hours ago, worik said:

.. ? if she opens nuts for you, ... that can only mean one thing:  She IS in love with you. :classic_smile:

I'd be cheered up by that if she didn't keep saying, "Simple female intuition beats overly complex male aggression every time." Males do not handle frustration well, regardless of species. And few things are more frustrating than cracking open nuts native to the Land of Oz.

Link to comment
6 hours ago, Ernest Lemmingway said:

"Simple female intuition beats overly complex male aggression every time."

Of course she is right, you know :classic_wink: ? And it is highly important to have these words constantly floating through the room. Like an aura. That technique is ancient. It's called indoctrination. Works with every sentient species, afaik.

6 hours ago, Ernest Lemmingway said:

Males do not handle frustration well

That's again, where female superiority and techniques can step in to obviate the worst and to comfort the ...*cough* soul! Yes, soul was the word ?

 

Spoiler

It all might be part of a bigger (female) master plan. :classic_ph34r:

 

PS: Happy new year ?

Link to comment

Two Days Later

 

From the Jan. 2, 1983 strip of Bloom County

 

"It will be tough to rise today,

"For there must have been a lotta--

"Booze in all them New Year's drinks

"Disguised as piña coladas.

 

"Yes, my nose is numb, my eyes yellow,

"My brain seems totally blistered...

"...my legs are firm as warm Jell-O--

"And methinks me tongue is whiskered.

 

"I'm a tad confused, not quite awake,

"New Year's is to blame for that,

"To make my make my meal of 'Frosted Flakes'

"I pour the milk on Bill the Cat.

 

"But now to check out my suspicion,

"(I beg your pardon if it's true...)

 

"...that penguins lemmings in a blitzed condition,

"Do sleep to January two."

Link to comment

Critters' Revenge 2018

 

Now that that jerk with the jackhammer is no longer pounding my skull, I can relate the events of New Year's Eve to my (very few) fans. Starting with what those college kids did the very minute they arrived. They put newer, larger speakers facing down on the ground. Things with such amperage they would shatter glass and teeth alike. The concrete section of my burrow wouldn't have been affected, but the addition where I hold my annual New Year's Eve party is packed earth and stone reinforced with wood. Those things would have collapsed it completely.

 

So while the kids went out to ride some rented ATVs before the night's party, we got to work. Cecil and Dave put heat wrap on the exposed ends of the wires connected to the speakers while I reprogrammed their stereo's digital storage to delete everything on it and replace it with things like Abba, Barry Manilow, and Earth, Wind, and Fire. Things that today's kids would just hate. And thanks to Lipps giving us free med samples over time, we had enough rohypnol to knock out an elephant, which we used to spike their keg. Just for a little added fun, I disabled the digital controls on their stereo by stealing the batteries from its remote. If they wanted to start or stop it, they would have to get up and do it manually! BWAHAHAHA!

 

Right around seven my guests started arriving. After last year we were all a bit eager to see how those kids would react to what we'd done to spoil their fun. Before anything else they tried testing those speakers. None of them could figure out what was wrong when they didn't work. For a moment we thought they'd check the wires, but all they did was look to see if they were still inserted. See what happens when you don't do a thorough job?

 

As they fussed around trying in vain to get things to work, I broke out that scotch bottle and we all shared a drink. Oh, sweet nectar of the gods! Perhaps loosened up a bit by the fact I'd saved my precious brown gold, I decided to give one of Melissa's unique drinks a try. She calls it a Tropical Hurricane, made with various fruit juices and ground up Sweet Tarts with a dash of vodka. Once my lips stopped puckering after the first sip I decided I liked it. But then I have a rather bizarre palate and enjoy such "delicacies" as spam, cheddar, and sour cream on pumpernickel with hot sauce. And I hate mayonnaise. If you've seen Undercover Brother, you'll know what those two stereotypes refer to. Well, let's just say stereotypes do not hold up to reality in this case!

 

After hearing some yelling and screaming coming from outside, we all gathered by the window--er, giant periscope--and saw one of them losing it because the speakers wouldn't work. He--in fact, the same guy who Scotch-taped a firecracker to my butt last year!--whined that his "thousand dollar speakers were broken and he didn't have the money to fix them." This guy was obviously not an engineer...or much of a thinker. All he had to do was look at the wires plugged into the speaker to see what was wrong and he never did.

 

The others just told him to relax and handed him a beer while they turned on the stereo. Their language as they tried to find something "decent" between tracks like "Dancing Queen," Let's Groove Tonight," and "Number One with a Bullet" would have made truckers blush! We all started laughing hysterically at their frustration and demands to turn it off. By then all of them were starting to feel the effects of their spiked, vile domestic brew. We figured after another cup each they'd be out cold.

 

After half an hour of them complaining about not having any music they all started to collapse. It would have been poetic justice to leave them outside all night and let them freeze, but even I'm not that cruel. Instead we helped Moose push them into their tents and covered them up. But not before we drew on their faces with permanent marker. I'm not quite sure what all we drew because by then I was getting pretty toasty. As for the guy who taped a firecracker to my butt? I put a strip of duct tape on his butt. Actually, several strips of duct tape.

 

Our revenge done, we all went back and rang in 2019 on a positive note. After everyone left--no one drove, they're animals--Melissa and I sat down and finished off her pitcher of Tropical Hurricane. Several times before I've caught her marinating my nuts but this time we were both pretty marinated by the time we finished off our drinks. So much so we slept through New Year's Day and woke up just yesterday with the worst hangovers of our lives. Next year I'm sticking with the single glass of scotch on the rocks.

 

As for those kids? Well, even in my blitzed state I remember hearing the screams in my dreams. And my friends told me how they tried to wash off the marker but couldn't get it off until one of the girls tried the acetone she'd brought for her nails. Acetone all over the face? That's something I'm glad I wasn't conscious for. And when they loaded up the stereo equipment, they removed those wires from the speakers and saw what the problem was. That I wish I could have seen. And that guy I put the duct tape on? Even I heard the loud R-I-P and the high-pitched scream. He was so wasted he didn't realize his testicles had stuck to it when he went to use the tree.

 

Here's hoping that wasn't the highlight of the year. Oh, and Happy New Year's everyone. ?

Link to comment
11 hours ago, Slorm said:

Thank you for that. It cheered me up as I have a stinky running cold atm ?

(I rather like Dancing Queen but that's probably my age showing :classic_smile:)

+1 on both (if I translate the first one correct ? ), so I guess that makes it +2

??

Link to comment

Tax Prep

 

It's "that time of the year" again. When this little lemming breaks out the Zamboni and creates a sheet of ice outside of the burrow. Last year it wasn't really needed since forest critters weren't included in Chump's tax changes. Unfortunately that's not the case this year; his team of slimy accountants nailed us as an unexploited tax source. So the sheet has to be larger than ever to accommodate everyone else in the glen. Even if the pond hadn't evaporated when we threw that hunter's scorching hot credit cards into it, no one would use it to soothe the burn. Mainly because it never really froze over but just congealed.

 

I've gotten a late start this year since it took a couple of days to recover from New Year's. The post office didn't waste any time delivering my W-2 forms, though. Which is scary by itself because that means they want to get it delivered. The only thing that motivates a governmental agency is money. So I'm a bit scared about what it's going to say. And I've already made an appointment with my CPA for Monday. Instead of laying down one layer a day over a couple of weeks, I'm going to be spending all weekend waiting for each layer to freeze so I can go add another.

 

The others got their forms early, too. Cecil and Dave are dealing with the anxiety by playing Skyrim VR nonstop. Their home (er, hollow stump) is filled with Cup 'O Noodles, Hot Pockets, and enough Red Bull to keep them wired until their bodies just can't stay awake any longer. Given their records, I'd say six or seven days at best. Thankfully we're out in the woods. A gerbil and a chicken who haven't bathed in days can rival a camel in terms of how funky they smell. At least out here they can go somewhere else and air out, maybe bathe in a creek before they kill all the trees. The only fear is they'll be nailed by the Environmental Protection Agency for pollution.

 

Moose is just eating bean dip and Frito's corn chips while watching pro wrestling. Like always. Despite being the spokes...er, moose for his employers, he isn't paid that much. Enough for him to afford his Pay-Per-View and his regular diet. Not enough to take him over the poverty line. So he doesn't have to file. This is one of those times I truly envy his simple existence.

 

Melissa...she's a member of the most intelligent species in the galaxy. She can run circles around the IRS and always gets a refund. Usually. Most of the time. Okay, okay! There are limits to what even little white mice can do! She's marinating my nuts again to deal with the fear. I'd protest but she'd just crush them and those are the only nuts I have. And right now I can't get the smell of black cherries out of my nose. I recover from a cold just in time for an olfactory assault.

 

I deal with the anxiety by simply dealing with it. All those years of anxiety management therapy really pay off at times like this. The whole Zamboni thing is more for the aftermath of the government's assault. They don't use lube and they certainly don't kiss me before they screw me. Or anyone else, really. I imagine I'll be spending most of Monday sitting on that ice sheet and drinking that rotgut Cecil and Dave got us for Xmas to numb the pain. The last time I had to use it, the burn I felt melted through three inches of solid ice. It literally hissed and cracked the moment I sat on it. That was before Chump was elected and reinstated "Trickle Down Economics." It didn't work under Hoover, Reagan, or both Bushes, so it's not going to work now.

 

If you'll excuse me, I have to go smooth over and lay down a layer now.

Link to comment

Tax Time Troubles

 

Since I don't want this to turn political, I'll avoid my spiel about our current administration. Instead I'll ask why they're taxing forest critters? Or all critters, really? I talked to Tommy Tortoise from the Painted Desert and the gummint is trying to put a lien on his shell! He's a reptile who barely makes enough to be above the poverty line. What makes them think he has any money to spare for taxes? And why are they coming after lemmings and little white mice, too? It's taken me six days to walk normal again. Melissa didn't seem all that bothered despite the fact she got it worse. I wonder... ?

 

Well, my financial plans for '19 are in disarray. I had planned on replacing that add-on where I hold my New Year's Eve parties with reinforced concrete instead of packed dirt, along with a dungeon below the existing structure. Now I have to choose which one to put off for now. Actually, I kind of have to go with the dungeon. I got in touch with Alton Brown's old Dungeon Master and the poor guy needs the work. Plus he really likes torturing bad b...bunnies. That should give the Esther Bunny something to think about if she shows up this year! Or she may like it if my fears are correct.

 

I'd also planned on replacing my twenty-year-old car with a newer, cleaner-running model. Instead I'll be forced to drive it for another year since my credit rating took a hit from the sudden loss of money from my account. Apparently my bank doesn't care why I had to make such a massive withdrawal. They just care that I did. Aren't banks not supposed to punish you for paying your taxes? Well, it's not the end of the world. The backfiring isn't that loud and the exhaust leaking in the cab is tolerable if I keep the windows open. And the pollution index is technically within tolerable limits.

 

What really hurts is the cuts I've had to make to my vacation to San Francisco in April for the...er, "expo." I fly Southwest Airlines so the tickets don't matter because there's no classes; the service is crappy no matter what. And I can downgrade from the Hilton of a Comfort Inn, no problem. And okay, Melissa wants to go with me. She was planning on spending her own money so that's good. I just hope I have enough for the new line of...uh, "furnishings." The new dungeon will be lacking if I can't get a good deal. Not to mention tools. I'll skip meals before I sacrifice quality in that area!

 

I need a moment before I continue this. This is all really painful to talk about. ?

Link to comment
30 minutes ago, Ernest Lemmingway said:

Instead I'll be forced to drive it for another year since my credit rating took a hit from the sudden loss of money from my account. Apparently my bank doesn't care why I had to make such a massive withdrawal. They just care that I did.

Who are you banking with? Withdrawals and account amounts shouldn't effect your credit score at all. If they are doing hard inquiries or other stuff that puts your credit rating in disarray over something as benign as making a large withdrawal you need to dump them asap.

 

Take it from a broke ass who constantly brings my bank account to the border of empty making withdrawals to pay my bills and my credit score is quite good. Your bank shouldn't be meddling with your credit scores over a withdrawal. They're playing you in a time of crisis.

Link to comment
17 hours ago, MrEsturk said:

Who are you banking with? Withdrawals and account amounts shouldn't effect your credit score at all. If they are doing hard inquiries or other stuff that puts your credit rating in disarray over something as benign as making a large withdrawal you need to dump them asap.

 

Take it from a broke ass who constantly brings my bank account to the border of empty making withdrawals to pay my bills and my credit score is quite good. Your bank shouldn't be meddling with your credit scores over a withdrawal. They're playing you in a time of crisis.

? It's called "sarcasm satire." Take nothing in this thread seriously. Because it's all just nonsense. The idea of a lemming even having a bank account fails a massive reality check. Everyone knows banks are a species-ist bunch who only work with humans and robots who spout enough drivel to pass as humans. :classic_biggrin:

Link to comment

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    • No registered users viewing this page.
×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

We have placed cookies on your device to help make this website better. You can adjust your cookie settings, otherwise we'll assume you're okay to continue. For more information, see our Privacy Policy & Terms of Use