Give Me a Little Credit Here
by Scott Hardie on August 4, 2007
Today's junk-mail pitch from Visa: "Most credit card companies know you as a number. Sean, we know you by name."
Six Replies to Give Me a Little Credit Here
Matthew Preston | August 4, 2007
Heheh! I'm curious though, would you have signed up if they called you "Scott"?
Tony Peters | August 4, 2007
yes well my home phone number is listed under my cat's names, Zipper and Sketch Peters. In the last month Zipper's credit has gotten very good....she is eligible for a $500,000 home loan, in addition to receiving Visa, Discover, AMEX and Diners club cards in the mail (real cards not fake ones) we have taken to shutting our computers down in fear that the little furball might try to use her credit cards on "Kitty Porn"
Lori Lancaster | August 4, 2007
[hidden by author request]
Amy Austin | August 5, 2007
Heheheh... yeah, I started using my other family members' names, too (though not as funny as "Sketch" or "Zipper") for filling out questionable fields online ever since the last time you mentioned this brilliant practice.
Jackie Mason | August 5, 2007
[hidden by author request]
Logical Operator
The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »
February 10-16
I don't really blog much about my day-to-day existence because it feels too mundane. But life is made up of those little days, and we don't get an accurate picture of each other's lives if we only discuss the big events. Here's a snapshot of my life last week. Go »Crash
Some days are so bad, you feel like you've been the only driver in a demolition derby without a car. Go »Unexpected Easter
This has been an unusual few days. Kelly's father had a stroke on Thursday, so we left town suddenly to see him, ultimately choosing to drive since we can't afford plane tickets on no notice. He's going to be fine; his vision was affected at first but he seems recovered now, pending another examination. Go »R.I.P. Mom
You were so still in your bed when I could finally sit down beside you, a few hours after the facility notified me that you had died. I hadn't seen you be that peaceful in years, your eyes not scanning the room for clues, your hands not turning over each object in front of you for endlessly repeated examination. I whispered to you the most urgent and most precious things I had to say, the secrets and atonements and wishes foremost on my mind. Go »Going Green
This thing might turn out to be as short-lived as my other two attempts at a personal blog, but damn it if I haven't craved having such an outlet for the better part of a year now. It seems like a week doesn't go by that I don't have some little adventure to turn into an anecdote or a frustration to rant about. My idle thoughts are as pointless as anybody else's, I realize, but that's what the Internet is for (besides porn). Go »
Lori Lancaster | August 4, 2007
[hidden by author request]