Funny Strange is Lori Culwell's blog

Beth Isreal Medical Center does not want to get paid, did you know this?

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So, wow, I was all prepared to put up this post about good actors and actresses who despite their talent, do terrible accents (hello, Julianne Moore on 30 Rock), but then I got sucked back into this completely absurd bureaucratic loop involving The Beth Israel Medical Center in New York City, and I hope this post pings the hell out of their Google alerts (if they even have a social media manager that reads those), because I have to honestly tell you guys, Beth Israel Medical Center in New York City does not want the money that our insurance company is trying to send them.  They want to keep sending us outrageous bills for these FOUR STITCHES you see here, and it is almost like they are being ignorant on purpose.

Why do I think this?

Hmmmm....let's see.  Here is a story for you.  In April, Stephan accidentally cuts himself and goes to the ER for stitches.  These stitches.  At Beth Israel Medical Center.  Because he is a rational human with medical insurance who has been to a doctor before, he gives them his insurance information, which they photocopy.

Two weeks later we get a giant "explanation of benefits" from the insurance company (because Beth Israel charged us over $1,000 for these four stitches) but it has no "patient identification number" in it which obviously means it's not going to get processed.  I call the insurance company, and they say that obviously we didn't give them our insurance information.  This is when I laugh and point out that THEY ARE THE INSURANCE COMPANY, SO HOW DO THEY EVEN KNOW TO CALL US IF WE DIDN'T GIVE THE HOSPITAL THE INFORMATION?    I should have known, this was the beginning of what has now turned into ninety days of similar bone-headedness, during which no one knows what the other is doing, and there is not once person in the picture who can enter numbers into a database correctly.

The insurance company agrees that it does make sense that they would have sent an explanation of benefits if we hadn't given our information, and then they admit that Beth Israel has a history of entering patient information wrong, and that also?  Beth Israel is really hard to get on the phone to correct the error, so this is probably going to go on for awhile.

It does.

Beth Israel's accounting department, as it turns out, has a phone system that disconnects you probably 8 out of 10 times when you call them, sometimes after making you wait for more than ten minutes.  Bear in mind, I am trying to get through so I can get them to correct their own claim form so that they can get paid, because the insurance company insisted that they could not correct the claim for Beth Israel because it had been filed electronically, and because I refuse to pay an overinflated bill when the medical center makes no effort to communicate with the insurance company.  I am trying not to start suspecting that Beth Israel is TRYING not to put the right numbers in, just so they can OVERCHARGE US FOR MEDICAL CARE BY NOT COMMUNICATING WITH OUR INSURANCE COMPANY.  Couldn't be that, right?  

A month goes by. I get another explanation of benefits indicating that the PATIENT ID NUMBER IS STILL INCOMPLETE even though I gave it to them on the phone after waiting on hold for 35 minutes and getting disconnected 7 times.  Maybe you think I am exaggerating these numbers, but I am really not.  I have notes.

Yep.  Beth Israel put the number in wrong again, because they don't want the money from the insurance company, I tell you.  They don't want it!  They want to keep sending us bills, and they think we might be stupid enough to just pay the bills and not check with the insurance company to see if they did the paperwork right and so they'll have to charge regular prices for THOSE FOUR STITCHES.

So-- Friday.  I get the same bill, and the same explanation of benefits, indicating that the patient information is still incomplete.

And, I don't know man, I think I just Hulked out or something, because when I saw that bill and that EOB and realized that all that time trying to correct the error had gone to waste and Beth Israel keeps billing us-- Monday morning I started calling and just yelling into the phone to any live human (as well as the voicemail system) about how mad I was, and how this is clearly why the healthcare system in our country is broken, and how no one takes accountability for their job anymore, and how I am completely wasting my time trying to close the loop, and how I hope their company is recording this, and that someday when they go out of business, calls like mine will be what they listen to at the post mortem of why the company closed down and everyone got laid off, and how I will personally not be surprised when this happens, and oh by the way WHAT IS YOUR NAME, because I want to tell the world what a great job you're doing.

Literally, I am not joking, the insurance company told me I should start writing to Beth Israel Medical Center VIA CERTIFIED MAIL so they would have to SIGN FOR THE LETTERS and then they might do something to correct the problem. 

Since I have just taken another stab at giving everyone corrected information and since I have now written this blog post about just how annoyed I am and how many hours this has wasted, we shall see what happens next and if I end up having to go the "certified mail" route or perhaps go down there myself and enter the information for them,  and if the people at Beth Israel Medical Center will come to their senses and get their money, because frankly, I am tired of this charade. 

By the way, Stephan's cut finger has LONG since healed, thanks for your concern. Actually, it healed so fast I ended up taking the stitches out myself.

My bill is in the mail. 

Let's Keep Things in Perspective, Shall We?

So, I heard on the news that the east coast hasn't been this sweltering hot in nine years, and how everybody is dropping dead from heat exhaustion, and everyone is all OH MY GOD IT IS SO HOT and it actually really IS hot, and  then I stopped to think about it, and you know what?  It's hot, but we probably need to get a grip on ourselves.

It's true-- we were actually here in 2001, and as I recall, it was a blistering hot summer, and my office was all the way down on Hudson street and we lived in the 20s on the east side, and every day I walked from 2nd avenue to 7th avenue because the crosstown bus never comes, and from there I would take the 1/9 downtown, and by the time I walked all that way in the heat I thought I was going to burst into flames, until this one day, finally, I stepped outside our building and it didn't feel like stepping into a hair dryer anymore, and I was sooooo happy.  It was the most beautiful, most sparkly New York day, and I was all "wow- this is what all the hype is about, I survived the hottest summer ever, omg!  Finally!"

I will never forget this because I took this really deep breath, and the air was all fresh, and I was so excited that fall was finally here and that I had survived the summer and  my commute wouldn't be so sweaty, and I'm sure you can imagine that there is some weird punchline coming since it's me, and...

You are so right.

OK, here it comes!  The reason I remember exactly what I was thinking on that very day nine years ago is BECAUSE THAT DAY WAS SEPTEMBER 11, people.

Yup.  That September 11.  Ask anyone-- the summer was BRUTAL, and then at 8:15 am on September 11,2001, everyone stepped outside and went "wow, what a beautiful day!" and I think it's so funny now that it happened to be the worst day in the history of the world and that this worst day occurred on what we all thought was the best day after the worst summer, and at that moment everyone went "oh, that heat-- hmmmm, maybe not so bad after all!"

Let's just keep things in perspective, is all I'm saying.  Yes, there is a heat wave going on, and yes, I am hiding in the weekend house because it has superior air conditioning, and yes, when I go outside it feels like we live in an oven.  But-- it's just weather.  Come on!

Dear Icons of My Youth....Please Stop Aging

I've noticed an alarming trend lately, and I think it started with the new 90210, or maybe the new Melrose Place (neither of which I watch because I can no longer relate to the challenges faced by people in their teens and early twenties-- now I'm like "you think that's bad-- just wait ten years!').

The disturbing trend I'm talking about is the one where people who were famous when we were in our teens and early twenties are now playing the MOMS of people that age now.  Here are a few examples:  Molly Ringwald on that American Teenager show, and now Laura Leighton (from the original Melrose Place) and Holly Combs both playing moms of teenagers on "Pretty Little Liars."  Also, AnnaLynne McCord telling Tori Spelling during an interview that she thought Spelling was TWENTY YEARS OLDER than her.  Dude!  Hello!  We're not in our forties yet!

I'm not saying we're not old enough to have teenagers.  In fact, some of my high school friends have children who are not only teenagers, but who GO TO OUR HIGH SCHOOL, which is very disturbing.  But-- does it not seem like all of a sudden the people from our generation took this huge leap forward in age (or at least that's how it's being portrayed in the media)?

The thing about getting older is-- you feel the same inside, but the people around you are all getting older, which just reminds you that time is passing, so this new development is at once surprising and totally unwelcome.   This started with the Brat Pack reunion at the Oscars, and now it seems like every time I turn around, there's Molly Ringwald promoting her book on "Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me" and reminding me that she's not Samantha from 16 Candles anymore.  Also, it is impossible for me to believe that I am staying the same age (inside, at least) while the icons of my youth are aging in celluloid all around me, and are now being cast in roles that make them out to be EVEN OLDER than they actually are.  Dislike!

Is it too much to ask that the icons of our youth just stop working and / or appearing in any media, thus reminding us of the realities of time passing, or at least for network executives to stop casting people in their thirties as people in their forties?  Jeez.

WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU, PART TWO

I totally forgot to mention this before, when I was ranting about “WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?”  I am seeing products lately that make me say “WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?” to the companies that are making them, because clearly they are contributing to (or at least enabling) people’s bad choices.  Here are some examples:

--Odor absorbing paint.  Um—ok.  This product reflects the sad and sorry state of America.  What is going on with your life that you need paint that absorbs odor?  Are you a serial killer, and do you need this paint to absorb the dead body smell in your house?   Or—do you have 50 cats, and you need to PAINT YOUR HOUSE to get rid of the smell?    Just—no.  As far as I’m concerned, buying bulk quantities of this paint should automatically trigger a visit (or at least a call) from a social worker.

--Anti-chafing cream.  I think I mentioned that some people look better on the heavier side, but I recently saw a commercial for some anti-chafing cream that FEATURED FAT PEOPLE DANCING, so clearly this is being marketed toward overweight people who are more concerned with the chafing than with the fact that being overweight is bad for your health.  Again, I don’t care what kinds of life choices people make and I know weight is a struggle for people, but deliberately making a product that caters to this feel cynical to me, like maybe the cream is being made by the company that’s also trying to make “high fructose corn syrup” seem ok again so people will eat more of that, or by KFC or McDonald’s with their gallon of sweet tea for just a buck.  Yikes.

--PediaSure, being marketed toward “moms of picky eaters!”   Listen, I don’t have a kid so I don’t want to step on a landmine here, but manufacturing a product for “picky eaters?”  Isn’t that the same as saying “we know you’re annoyed with your kid and don’t have time to work with them to eat food that is good for them or just wait it out, so just let them eat chicken fingers and wash it down with this PediaSure.  You’re fine.”  What irks me about this commercial is actually the line “When her picky eating started to affect her growth and development….my doctor said PediaSure.”  Um—WHAT?  Excuse me for butting in, but why did you let her picky eating get to the point where it started to affect her development?    Aren’t parents supposed to regulate that kind of thing?  And, don’t get all uppity if you have one of these kids, because if you know anything about me, you will not be surprised to learn that I WAS ONE OF THEM.   I was a picky eater when I was a kid, and you know what I got?  A peanut butter sandwich and a Flintstones vitamin, people, and an open invitation to “come back when I felt like eating,” which I occasionally did.   My mom didn’t force me to eat, but she also didn’t buy specially formulated supplements so I wouldn’t have to. 

I’m just saying-- I lived to see adulthood, and eventually I even tried asparagus.   

Yeah, couldn't see that coming at all

So-- Mel Gibson and his Russian  baby mama have apparently broken up, and now they are getting restraining orders against each other and trying to work out custody arrangements and she's living off of credit cards, blah blah blah.

These two-- just, oh my God.  Do they not seem like a ticking time bomb of crazy, even in pictures where they are supposedly together and happy?

I know this sounds mean and I don't know either of them so who am I to talk, but....does this woman remind anyone else of the housekeeper from The Sopranos (the one with one leg who had an affair with Tony)?   She has that look in her eye like she was already coming unglued before she had crazy Mel Gibson's baby.  And, Mel Gibson, just don't even get me started on how you can see him around Santa Monica all the time, and how much he needs to get over himself, and how if you're in an elevator with him, he will wait for you to acknowledge his Mel Gibson-ness, so I can only imagine what it's like if you live with him and think you're going to be the one to change him, and he's this cipher of neediness who occasionally gets loaded and spews weird and hateful rhetoric about women and the Jews.   These two really fall under the "too weird for real life" category, like-- what do they talk about?  How do they do regular things like go to the grocery store and take out the garbage?   Are either of them capable of paying a bill, or getting a driver's license, or walking a dog?  I know, I know, they have people who do these things for them, but you see my point.  I don't think you'd call either of them "down to earth," so why would it be reasonable to think they could settle down and have a baby and be in a relationship and have that go well?

Also, how is it helpful for her to tell TMZ that she was dating him for two years while he was still married? Does she think that revelation is going to impact his divorce?  Or rather, does she think that her having his baby is even the tip of the iceberg of what must be in those divorce papers?  Ha!  Robin Gibson was with him for more than 20 years and had six kids with him-- I'm guessing the seventy bazillion dollars she's getting in that divorce settlement is holding back a dam of secrets and that it is probably impossible to surprise her at this point, and that she went "oh, crazy Russian girlfriend and love child?  Have fun with that.  I'm done."   I'm.  Just. Saying.

This is a situation for which the phrase "hot mess" was created.

Have a Laugh, Save a Life-- Seriously, Get That Mole Looked At.

Hey, I know I'm usually all funny on this blog, and sometimes you think I'm weird and everything, but guess what, people?

Reading Funny Strange can SAVE YOUR LIFE.

It's not just that I think laughter has healing qualities, because it totally does.

As it turns out, people actually read my stupid stories, and sometimes it motivates them to action!  Case in point:  remember that post about how I am nutso about the dermatologist, and how I force them to cut 
off every suspicious thing, not trusting their obviously superior medical opinions?

Get this:  my long-lost high school friend Katie (who I reconnected with last year at the San Diego signing for Hollywood Car Wash) read that post and thought it was funny, but since she is also super fair like me, it reminded her to get a new dermatologist, and she went in and insisted  (crazy Culwell style, I'm assuming) that they cut off this mole on her hand that had been bugging her, and guess what?

IT WAS MELANOMA.

It's in the early stages and her doctor says it will only require a simple surgery, but she sent me an email last week actually thanking me for that blog post, because if they hadn't caught it early, who knows what could have happened?

So, wow.   It's funny, because I was actually really self-conscious about that post because it painted a pretty accurate portrait of how my anxious mind can get carried away and a couple of people said it weirded them out to have that accurate a snapshot of my neuroses, but now, you know what?

I'm glad I left it up.  You guys-- now I can actually say my weirdness SAVED SOMEONE'S LIFE.

Someone, one of my numerous therapists is like "great."

Katie-- I'm so glad you're ok, and that I played some part in your finding a new doctor.  Truly.

Yes, THAT Mindy Cohn....

So, first of all, the skunk came back last night.  Hello---- what is that skunk thinking?   Does he want a rematch with a dog crazy enough to throw him up in the air?   In case you're wondering, as soon as I saw it this time, I got in the car and chased him away to clear the way for the dog, because I didn't want a repeat of last week.

How did I know it was the same skunk?

He was LIMPING, that's how I know.  He is the skunk with a limp, and he is back and out for vengeance.  He left when I threatened to run him over, though.   Who's the badass now, limping skunk? 

Also, I seriously got the nicest email a writer could ever get yesterday, and I just want that person's permission to quote her, but I am very glad she's ok, and very grateful for the nice message she sent me.  Just when I was getting discouraged about the fact that I write this blog all these years, and what's it all for, and what's the meaning of life, and blah blah blah, then I get this awesome email.  So, thanks Katie, and congratulations!

Finally, oh my GOD, you have to go over and listen to today's show on That Voiceover Podcast.  It's with Mindy Cohn, best known for her role as Natalie on the Facts of Life.  Mindy is so, SO awesome, and we love her, and you have to listen right now!

WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?

Not you, of course.  This is just the theme of the post, so I thought I would give it a grabby title.   

So, hey—did you know that if you wash all the skunk off of a big black dog by using a solution made of hydrogen peroxide and some other stuff that the vet told you to use, and then you rub him with lemons because the smell is still not gone, and then you leave him on the deck in the sun, he will turn slightly orange?

Well, now you know.   Aside from the mild reactivating of the skunk odor when it rained the other day, he is mostly fine, though I am still not letting him ride in the car, because I am mean. 

This week has been very busy with work again—I took on a new client even though I keep telling myself that I have enough work to do as it is, but then people call me with their interesting projects and I’m all “ok, how much work could that be?”  And then the question answers itself when I am still in front of the computer at 11:00 at night.  So, there’s that.

Stephan is in Los Angeles right now doing fancy voiceover things, but before he left we made a totally hilarious list that I will share with you now.  It is called “WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?” and we have been adding to it all week.

“WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?” concerns advertising, products, and certain people we observe.  It is more of a designation than a true category grouping, and the criteria are very broad.  For instance, my friend Lisa sent me an email this week about standing in line at the airport in back of a guy who had on a belt, and he was wondering if he should take off that belt, and it turned out that the BELT WAS MADE OF BULLETS.  So, that guy goes into the “WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?” category—and really, shouldn’t that category come with a fine of some kind?  Pull it together, man!  You’re at the airport.  The answer is “No, you can’t take that on the plane, you can’t wear a bullet belt, just no NO NO.” 

Here are some other things that have fallen into this category this week:

--Volkswagon dealership commercial in Connecticut where the main selling point is the owner of the dealership proudly proclaiming that he has a Jetta, and that this Jetta has 264,000 miles.   Um….WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?   Why are you telling us that you have a car that old, and if you own the dealership, why don’t you just trade up?   This commercial does not make me want to buy a car.  In fact, this commercial makes me wonder how this guy even owns a dealership and has the wherewithal to pull a radio commercial together.  That is how much it doesn't work.

--That Pizza Hut (could be Domino’s) commercial where the guy is counting his quarters, and then he realizes it’s Wednesday, and this means he could either use the quarters to do laundry, OR he could go get some 50 cent wings, and….he chooses the wings.   Again, WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?  You obviously don’t have a woman in your life, because she’d be like “Pull yourself together, take those quarters and do your laundry—you smell like last week’s wings.” 

Things that were weird to me this week, but not quite weird enough to qualify for “WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?” status:

--The “Runaway General.”  I am actually saving my in-depth commentary on the General McChrystal situation until I get some insight from my father The Colonel, but all in all, I wonder what would make a five-star General shoot his mouth off like that when you don’t even get to BE a five-star General without a ton of politicking.   Mysterious.   Maybe he wanted to get out of his Afghanistan assignment, but still, there are better ways.

 -- A magazine ad that I totally thought was for perfume, until I realized….it was for a cancer center.  Yikes….a rude awakening!   If you’ll notice, the copy reads “She’s just discovered….an exclusive spa, a luxurious retreat, or “a better way to treat her cancer.”  Apparently this is how they advertise cancer treatment centers in Westchester, NY, but it just seems like a weird approach, given the fact that if you don’t read the label closely,  you’re thinking “perfume” until you actually peel back the label to see what it smells like, only to reveal that….in fact it smells like a cancer treatment center, and then you’re all weirded out.  

How is your week going?  Observe anything weird or amusing or that would make you shout "WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?"  I'm curious, really.  I personally think the summer heat and the long days make people a little bit crazy.

Really?

 Well well well… is it Friday already?

Before I get on with my story, I must tell you that Stephan has a new website!  Part of what we were working on this week (in addition to the podcast that comes out twice a week and all the other projects) was getting this fantastic redesign up and running.  Special thanks to Denise Biondo for her great work on this.  Yay!

As you can see, I was busy with website things this week, and I was almost afraid I was going to have to write a Funny Strange post that would bore you to death, about things like Search Engine Optimization and how important it is to find low-competition keywords, and how to get your latent semantic indexing right so Google’s algorithm will rank it, and so on.

Are you asleep yet?   I thought so.

Anyway, Baxter must have sensed that things were a little too quiet, because just as I was getting ready to write you a totally boring post, I let him out into the yard last night and seconds later, looked over to see him GRABBING A SKUNK WITH HIS MOUTH AND THROWING IT UP IN THE AIR.  

Yep.  It all happened so fast, I couldn’t even stop him.  I think you can imagine what happened next, as the skunk was like “OH NO YOU DIDN’T,” and proceeded to hiss at him, then blast him in the face until he went temporarily blind and wandered away gagging and stunned.   I guess I can’t blame him since he’d never actually seen a skunk before, but even when it was happening, I was like “Oh, oh no—don’t do that!” which then turned quickly into “Damn, what a bonehead,” and then “What the hell am I going to do now?”

To pre-answer your inquiries, yes—I have washed him three times, once with a concoction I got from the internet that was GUARANTEED to work (hydrogen peroxide + baking soda + dish soap), once with plain dish soap, and once with lemon juice, and yes, he still smells, so for now he lives on the porch.   Also, no—I did not put tomato juice on him, though that might be next.  I will say, the skunk smell is about 75% gone, but he is still not allowed in the house, and he still has the look on his face like he’s not sure exactly what happened.    The irony with the “anti-skunk” solutions is that you’re pretty much not allowed to put any of them NEAR THE DOG’S EYES, which of course is exactly where the skunk sprays.   Wouldn’t it make sense if they could invent the equivalent of a “No More Tears” shampoo for dogs that also served to de-skunk them?  I’m just saying.

This is what he looked like this morning, in between baths number 2 and 3.   Because he lacks knowledge of chemistry and access to the internet, he does not know that rolling in the grass is not going to make any difference, and that the skunking is just going to have to fade away on its own.  Or maybe it’s just that his eyes hurt and he’s trying to make them feel better.  Who knows what he’s thinking?

By the way, while I was at the store buying rubber gloves, hydrogen peroxide, and a bucket for the de-skunking, I noticed this product. 

 

 

Just……why?  Who needs this? Why is this even a thing?

Also, I Am Psychic.

While I was looking for that Lindsay Lohan SCRAM bracelet post from a couple of years ago, I stumbled across this post, in which I ask the apparently evergreen question “WHY DO PEOPLE KEEP MARRYING CHARLIE SHEEN?”  I don’t want to blow my own horn here, but check it out people—I AM RIGHT ON ABOUT THIS KIND OF THING, so clearly you should listen to my predictions regarding ill-fated celebrity marriages and alcohol-monitoring bracelets.

Damn, I am good.  Seriously—less than three years after I wrote this post, Charlie Sheen is about to go to jail for threatening to kill the very woman he was about to marry at the time I wrote it.  Of course, it turned out that she was also a total winner who was addicted to crack and who needed in-home rehab to keep it together so really, they were a match made in heaven and should totally try to work it out, but on the whole, I would say that if you want some laser-focused celebrity predictions, you should definitely pay attention to what I have to say.  My cynicism is not only unparalleled—it is also psychic.   Marriage embargo on the Sheen Brothers!  Still a good idea!