CFI kinda rocks
CFI as in College Foundation, Inc.
I've gotta come clean: things aren't peachy keen when it comes to money around here. I'm...kiiiind of a delinquent when it comes to paying back my college loans. *blush* Yeah...I feel pretty awkward about it when I know that a friend of mine is having a hard time because she's paying the loans back... Well, I got a letter from the Default Aversion Department, which scared the shit out of me, and I finally plucked up the guts to call CFI and get everything straightened out.
I was on hold for twenty minutes, then an older lady picked up as my customer rep (an old southern lady, too, because I called locally). That alone made me not as nervous...how can you be nervous about money around an old person. She put me on a new plan and sent in my forbearance request (which last about a month, but hey, better than nothing) in about five minutes and I feel like I could dance on this sprained ankle of mine.
No, I'm not going to. D: That would hurt.
Oh yeah. In case you don't follow me on Twitter (and you SHOULD. I'm updating on there more often than here. And you know I loves me some blogging. http://twitter.com/revulo Muffin the snake looks much niftier when you're logged in...), I sprained my ankle. Oh shitcakes. I wanted to die on the way home.
You know what? Some bitch in a fancy car saw me walking home on this thing and asked if I were alright when I lost my balance for a few moments. I said I wasn't hurt from that, but I did have a sprained ankle...and she drove away.
BITCH. I WAS A MINUTE AWAY FROM MY HOUSE BY CAR. YOU COULDN'T GIMME A RIDE? GAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!
That wasn't very southern of her, was it?
Oh. And, apparently, I eat with my pinkie out. I guess I AM spoiled.
I've gotta come clean: things aren't peachy keen when it comes to money around here. I'm...kiiiind of a delinquent when it comes to paying back my college loans. *blush* Yeah...I feel pretty awkward about it when I know that a friend of mine is having a hard time because she's paying the loans back... Well, I got a letter from the Default Aversion Department, which scared the shit out of me, and I finally plucked up the guts to call CFI and get everything straightened out.
I was on hold for twenty minutes, then an older lady picked up as my customer rep (an old southern lady, too, because I called locally). That alone made me not as nervous...how can you be nervous about money around an old person. She put me on a new plan and sent in my forbearance request (which last about a month, but hey, better than nothing) in about five minutes and I feel like I could dance on this sprained ankle of mine.
No, I'm not going to. D: That would hurt.
Oh yeah. In case you don't follow me on Twitter (and you SHOULD. I'm updating on there more often than here. And you know I loves me some blogging. http://twitter.com/revulo Muffin the snake looks much niftier when you're logged in...), I sprained my ankle. Oh shitcakes. I wanted to die on the way home.
You know what? Some bitch in a fancy car saw me walking home on this thing and asked if I were alright when I lost my balance for a few moments. I said I wasn't hurt from that, but I did have a sprained ankle...and she drove away.
BITCH. I WAS A MINUTE AWAY FROM MY HOUSE BY CAR. YOU COULDN'T GIMME A RIDE? GAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!
That wasn't very southern of her, was it?
Oh. And, apparently, I eat with my pinkie out. I guess I AM spoiled.