California Health Insurance Quotes and Blog

Caleb and his wife Calin argued constantly and sometimes their fights became violent. Add a waffle iron to the mix and you’re just asking for trouble. Ask the couple’s California Health Insurance agent.

Waffle Iron Day, celebrated on the 13^th of March, held special significance for Caleb, 42, if not also for his wife Calin, 39.  It was on that national holiday when the Merced couple decided to “really do up breakfast” as Caleb put it. The original menu that morning was deceptively simple.  “Let’s just have bacon, eggs and whole wheat toast,” Calin suggested.

Unfortunately, Caleb wasn’t satisfied. He wanted waffles. “Today is Waffle Iron Day.” Caleb said, beginning to whine, “Did you know that National Waffle Iron Day has been a tradition in my family for more than a century?”

“I doubt it,” replied Calin, who was always willing to speak or even shout her mind, “It hasn’t been a holiday that long.”

“It has too,” Caleb shrieked, and he was close to tears, “My grandfather told us the whole story about how it came to be a national holiday on March 13^th.” 

“Whatever,” Calin said, already disgusted.

Caleb removed the waffle iron from the convenient cabinet where it’d been stored, and put it within Calin’s easy reach.   

“I want strawberries and blueberries and yams in my waffles,” Caleb said in a certifiably annoying tone.

“You want yams?” Calin screamed, “I’m allergic to yams! You knew that, too!”

Their argument escalated enough so that what happened next was predictable. Calin picked up the waffle iron, and conked her husband right on the noggin, knocking him cold.

She picked up the phone and called their California Health Insurance agent, who was also the tempestuous couple’s friend.  “Caleb’s out cold this time,” Calin cried, “I hit him with a waffle iron.”

“Oh that’s right, today’s National Waffle Iron Day again, isn’t it?” the agent asked. “Don’t worry, you’re covered. But better call an ambulance.”

Calin did just that, and a few minutes later, all the neighbors heard the siren. Caleb was still unconscious when he was carried into the ambulance.

“She really must have conked him good,” remarked Mrs. Kravitz, a nosy neighbor.

“What do you expect?” said Mr. Kravitz, “Some people can’t be trusted with a waffle iron.”

Milagros Mendez took to certain precautionary measures to prevent misgivings, miscalculations and misinformation.  She was the administrative assistant at a state agency and she clocked in the hours as necessary to receive her weekly paycheck; took pride in what she did, and did what she was told.  She always was careful and took many precautions and was a thorough researcher, maintaining and updating her records, her health insurance, keeping up with her pension plan.

But one day, she came into work and her boss just point-blank berated her in front of her co-workers all because she was one-second late coming into the door and fired her on the spot.  Milagros was stunned, bewildered and scared and was at a total loss, so she called California Health Insurance agent Matt Lockard for some advice.  For once in her life this was something that was unexpected, even as good at predicting things and taking precautionary measures as she has been known to do, she found herself in a bind: unemployed and uninsured all at once! 

The fall leaves were just turning its magnificent colors and the air was getting cooler as each day passed—ghouls, scarecrows, and pumpkin patches were cropping up everywhere; soon Christmas decorations. What in the world will she do now?  Does she want to go back to a nine-to-five clocking in the hours, overworked and under-appreciated, or does she want to finally pursue her dream of being a Cantonese translator, take that trip to China, a place she so long wanted to go? 

California Health Insurance agent Matt Lockhard reassured her at least she was covered in case of accidents and illnesses, so she set forth to forge her future, taking classes, freelancing here and there to pay her bills and what-not. 

Matt Lockhard contacted her after a year or so and found out that Milagros landed herself in rural California maintaining an apiary as well, with a fiancé and some land.  “We just came back from China,” Milagros told Matt.  “I will email you the pictures of us at the Great Wall of China!”

After California Health Insurance agent Matt Lockhard hung up the phone with Milagros, he smiled and thought to himself that dreams do come true after all.

Thank goodness Byron “Crocodile Doomedee” had been prudent enough to pay an office call to his favorite California Health Insurance agent before the accident occurred.

Who would have thunk it? Byron Doomedee had been trained since the age of six as a croc hunter. Coming to America from his native Brisbane, he’d been hoping to get in the movies like other croc-hunting Aussies, but it never happened. In fact, Byron’s last real job — raking elephant dung at a small New Jersey zoo, had ended nearly a year ago. The elephant in question, a large African bull, had unfortunately developed constipation. Byron had moved on to Hollywood, briefly finding temp work at a traveling circus in Beverly Hills, wrestling alligators on Tuesdays. When the circus inevitably left town, Byron was bereft once again.  This meant pounding the pavement an awful lot. In August he’d paid an office call to a California Health Insurance agent, and after buying a policy there, an act which seemed at the time as aimless as being unemployed, he kept pounding the city’s sidewalks looking for a real job – hopefully something that didn’t involve a rake. One crisp autumn day, he learned from his entertainment agent that a television audition was in the works, and became so excited that he tripped on a crack that appeared in his mind’s eye like a crocodile’s jaws – and so fell and broke his tailbone in two places.

When Byron called his California Health Insurance agent for advice while lying flat on his back in terrible pain, his agent recommended that he hail a cab to the hospital if he could still hop, telling him to scream for a street side stretcher if not.  It turned out Byron was rescued by a rickshaw in the vicinity, one being towed by a marginally employed bull elephant that somehow looked familiar. Sitting atop the elephant, Byron nearly felt exhilarated again, almost as if he was back in New Jersey and gainfully employed. He was quite cushioned too, which lessened the pain in his twice-fractured tailbone. Dismounting at the nearest hospital proved to be a definite ordeal, but once there he was welcomed heartily. One of the doctors had a crocodile for him to see and knew by heart most of the movies he’d never been in.