I Love Chocolate and other random thoughts

Today I took one of my co-workers out to lunch for her birthday. We had salads for lunch. For dessert we went to Ethel’s Chocolate Lounge. Mmmmmmmmmmmmm. I have just two words: dee-lish. We had the chocolate fondue with strawberries, bananas, graham crackers, butter cookies and marshmallows. It took everything in me not to lick the bowl when we were done. *smacks lips in utter delight*

In other news….
We have had some major issues with our bank recently. Someone managed to get my hubby’s info for his business account and created some fake checks. The pilferer then wrote three checks to herself and somehow forged my hubby’s signature. (If you saw his signature, you’d know what an amazing feat that was!) When all was said and done, the thief made off with $14,000. Thankfully, BB is anal when it comes to our money. He discovered the discrepancy on the same day that the theft occurred.

Needless to say, we have since closed our accounts and reopened them (at the same bank). The bank replaced the money pretty quickly. However, we are in search of a new bank, if only for the simple fact that we don’t have a lot of activity on that particular account and we can’t understand how they allowed this to happen. When BB’s one employee would present a check from that account to the bank, they almost always called to verify that he had, in fact, written said check. And now all of a sudden, they allow three checks to be cashed in one day, for more money that he ever spends from that account??? WTF?! To add insult to injury, there were typos in the fake check.

Just to be safe, I am pulling our credit reports and filing security alerts with the major credit bureaus. What a pain in the boo-tay.

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ATTENTION Homeless men and the creepy security guard at my office: I am off the market and I have been for quite some time.

Why am I making this announcement? I’ll tell you why. Let’s start with the homeless men that hang out all up and down Wabash (downtown Chicago). I empathize with the plight of homeless people. I buy the occasional Streetwise. Every now and then I will even give them some money. But what I don’t appreciate is when I give money to a homeless man and he proceeds to ask me for my phone number. This forces me to be mean. I don’t mean to cringe in complete disgust. It’s just a reflex. Don’t take it personally. I am out of your league. And most importantly, I am married.

And to the creepytopia security guard: Please stop trying to guess my first name. I hate that you even know my last name. Again, I am married. Happily. (Thanks to post 9-11 heightened security, we have to swipe our key cards when we enter the building and our first initial and last name pops up on the security screen.) Our relationship is and will always be strictly hi and bye. I will not have lunch with you. Period.

The baby train goes round and round…
I am growing weary of having the whole baby/fertility thing on my mind all the time. I have started charting my bbt and my cervical mucus and position now that I should be able to get pregnant naturally. So every day before I roll out of bed, I have to stick a thermometer in my mouth and record my temp. This forces me to think about fertility first thing in the morning. According to one book, I should be checking my cm three times a day. Ugh. And the whole checking of the cervical position! Not fun. I mean I am all for self-discovery, and I am fascinated and amazed at how the human body works. But some days I just don’t feel like being that much “in touch” with myself.