Occasionally, my friend Brent shares with me one of the hundred or so conversations he has with one of the random people that call in to the customer support lines that he manages. Someone like me, who works in a small office and endures a small volume of phone calls, might have one bad experience per month of experiences. Someone like Brent, who is on-hand mostly to deal with the negative, endures a barrage of weird shit every day.
There are people who are pissed off about being amidst a divorce that get a hold of the 800 number and have him on the phone for several minutes before they even get to the reason they called. They want their kids back; he just wants to help fix their windshield.
A mild issue of displacement.
A lot of people cry. Sometimes they have good reasons to, although not so much related to glass replacement.
Today, an utterly appalled lady called in to complain because a technician showed up to her door to replace her windshield -- (unknowingly) with his zipper down. She wanted to make sure that her account was noted that a "pervert" showed up at her house and she wanted compensation. All this through tears.
They gave her fifty bucks.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
dont you ppl care any more?
As someone who went through a moderate amount of a college journalism major before switching to something a little less...stressful, I have grown increasingly appalled by not only how much our grasp of grammar seems to be slipping away from us as a culture, but how much we apparently don't even care that we're showing off our mistakes.
It takes a certain amount of grammatical mastery before I even take a person or publication seriously; I admit my bias right there. I give a little leeway due to some personal experiences with people I know who are completely unable to spell or form coherent sentences on "paper" and are, in person, successful at their jobs and lives. But get your shit together, people.
The point is, that language is a tool. It's a tool that allows you to show attributes about your point of view, intellect, or personality that you don't otherwise have to spell out to a reader. It allows you to make a statement about yourself by your correct or incorrect usage of words, concepts and phrases and slang. It's a tool that lets me know if you're inherently racist and ignorant or well-educated and full of insight. Language is so strongly tied to emotion, is so powerful, and we cast it around casually without regard and with shameful abandon.
We all have the crutch of spell-checkers, oft-intrusive squiggly green and red underlines, and even that fucking MS Office paper clip to help us out. To my dismay, there is a trend in word processing to make assumption as to the writer's intent and to just automatically substitute a correctly spelled best-guessed word in place of a perceived incorrectly spelled word without so much as the typist even making notice of it. This much infuriates me. You may never actually realize how to spell certain words, because each time you make the mistake it is auto-corrected. What happens when you have to make a sign. No squiggles to help you now, lazy butt!
I have noticed an increased number of spelling mistakes on actual printed and approved final documents. Menus, signs, business cards... I even saw one on a television game show last night. I have seen them in recipes printed in magazines that are distributed to tens of thousands of people. Why am I going to do business with you when you can't even spell your street name? Guinness is spelled just like that. Lavender does not end in "AR". A LOT of things don't end in "AR". It's like one perpetual unintentional pirate joke after another.
I SAW SHERBET SPELLED LIKE SHERBERT. Seriously?! Sherbert?! This was not even at a Chinese restaurant, this was on television.
Chinese restaurants are exempt from this note, thanks.
It takes a certain amount of grammatical mastery before I even take a person or publication seriously; I admit my bias right there. I give a little leeway due to some personal experiences with people I know who are completely unable to spell or form coherent sentences on "paper" and are, in person, successful at their jobs and lives. But get your shit together, people.
The point is, that language is a tool. It's a tool that allows you to show attributes about your point of view, intellect, or personality that you don't otherwise have to spell out to a reader. It allows you to make a statement about yourself by your correct or incorrect usage of words, concepts and phrases and slang. It's a tool that lets me know if you're inherently racist and ignorant or well-educated and full of insight. Language is so strongly tied to emotion, is so powerful, and we cast it around casually without regard and with shameful abandon.
We all have the crutch of spell-checkers, oft-intrusive squiggly green and red underlines, and even that fucking MS Office paper clip to help us out. To my dismay, there is a trend in word processing to make assumption as to the writer's intent and to just automatically substitute a correctly spelled best-guessed word in place of a perceived incorrectly spelled word without so much as the typist even making notice of it. This much infuriates me. You may never actually realize how to spell certain words, because each time you make the mistake it is auto-corrected. What happens when you have to make a sign. No squiggles to help you now, lazy butt!
I have noticed an increased number of spelling mistakes on actual printed and approved final documents. Menus, signs, business cards... I even saw one on a television game show last night. I have seen them in recipes printed in magazines that are distributed to tens of thousands of people. Why am I going to do business with you when you can't even spell your street name? Guinness is spelled just like that. Lavender does not end in "AR". A LOT of things don't end in "AR". It's like one perpetual unintentional pirate joke after another.
I SAW SHERBET SPELLED LIKE SHERBERT. Seriously?! Sherbert?! This was not even at a Chinese restaurant, this was on television.
Chinese restaurants are exempt from this note, thanks.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Is that... Judge Judy?
If I weren't such a learned person, I would blame it on witchcraft. Wandering spirits, maybe. Someone from "beyond" trying to communicate with me over the same frequency that Bluetooth utilizes.
Last week my dad installed a rear-view camera in my Insight. I'd probably appreciate its novelty if it weren't for its necessity. 'Insight' was not the most accurate name for this vehicle. Anyhow, it plugs into the cigarette lighter and mounts on my air vent. It's a small screen much like a digital camera's screen. The actual camera is mounted above my license plate and communicates wirelessly with the display in-car. It only engages when the car is in reverse. It's a camera; that's all it does.
Well. That's all it's supposed to do.
But when I was driving down 315 last week, around the Riverside curve, the camera flickered on as television static does in between lost channels. I blinked. It happened again, and this time it looked as though an image was on the screen. Rounding out the curve, by Ackerman, I was fully watching Judge Judy upside-down on my rear-view camera display.
I have found fun little pockets around town where my camera will pick up signals emitted from everything from WBNS to baby monitors. On my way to hockey in Grandview, I can pick up some episodes of Friends on the CW. In downtown Worthington, I pick up the security camera from one of the "olde" shops but I haven't yet determined which one.
In Hilliard, I watched a baby crawl around in her crib.
I am afraid I will see something I don't want to see.
Like Seinfeld.
Last week my dad installed a rear-view camera in my Insight. I'd probably appreciate its novelty if it weren't for its necessity. 'Insight' was not the most accurate name for this vehicle. Anyhow, it plugs into the cigarette lighter and mounts on my air vent. It's a small screen much like a digital camera's screen. The actual camera is mounted above my license plate and communicates wirelessly with the display in-car. It only engages when the car is in reverse. It's a camera; that's all it does.
Well. That's all it's supposed to do.
But when I was driving down 315 last week, around the Riverside curve, the camera flickered on as television static does in between lost channels. I blinked. It happened again, and this time it looked as though an image was on the screen. Rounding out the curve, by Ackerman, I was fully watching Judge Judy upside-down on my rear-view camera display.
I have found fun little pockets around town where my camera will pick up signals emitted from everything from WBNS to baby monitors. On my way to hockey in Grandview, I can pick up some episodes of Friends on the CW. In downtown Worthington, I pick up the security camera from one of the "olde" shops but I haven't yet determined which one.
In Hilliard, I watched a baby crawl around in her crib.
I am afraid I will see something I don't want to see.
Like Seinfeld.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Another WTF Post
Sometimes I wonder in which direction this country is moving, socially. On one hand, we have the first-ever Black and female presidential candidates in our nation's history. Whereas I see this as a byproduct of a still-divided society that wants to feel more warm and fuzzies than it realistically has to offer, it is still a step forward and away from wrinkly old White ball-sack rule. So, that's good. A well-played game of emo-political chess, but good in some ways nonetheless....right?
On the other hand, we still have establishments like Planet Fitness. As for what direction they are moving within society, I guess it just depends on who you ask. I just joined this place a couple of days ago, after hearing from several people, "It's only ten bucks a month". A relatively unassuming, no-frills kind of place, PF sits in the corner lot off of Indianola where Gold's Gym used to live. It's clean. It's new. It's got a color theme. Save for the racist dress code, it's the perfect place to work out if you don't work out too hard. You know, or if you're not too Black or anything.
Racist dress code? (See item PF285 and corresponding review) What good is disallowing do-rags and bandannas other than to single out ethnic groups? Do-rags and skull caps, while attributed to certain groups more than others, do serve an athletic function and seemingly should be allowed in an athletic establishment. How else can their explicit ban be justified? Should bald people just wear a towel on their head to prevent sweat from getting in their eyes?
Being the good American consumerist, I did a little bit of research on PF after a few internal environmental aspects struck me as, well, a bit 'off'. Not so much in an Andy Dick type way, but more in a Karl Rove way. Surprisingly, the gym --despite its squeaky-clean color themes and brand-new equipment--boasted only a two-star rating on epinions.com. How could this be?
Delving a bit deeper, I started reading some of the reviews at length. In a word: disturbing.
Granted, this guy's username suggests that we probably wouldn't get along anyway, but I found his review to be only slightly emotionally charged and also very thorough and thought-provoking. He makes a couple good points as to the argument that PF is discriminatory in its practices. Just like everyone knows all the whores are in Delta Zeta without it being explicitly so, I don't want to unknowingly belong to some underground racist White people's gym without knowing it.
Several others on the site cited billing issues, or staff problems as the reason for their below average ratings. Then there is the grunting issue.
At first, I thought the grunting policy was a joke because I could not possibly see how this can actually be enforced as a policy. In summary, there is an alarm and corresponding blue flashing light (think K-mart) that the manager can sound if he or she feels someone is being judgemental or is grunting or dropping weights (See account here) and thus intimidating the other gym members. From what I have read, the manager then comes over to the 'grunter' and explains to them how this practice is not permitted. I just cannot wrap my brain around that. When I tore my ACL, I am sure I grunted. If I should happen to re-aggravate it whilst doing the leg press, instead of getting offered an ice-pack out of athletic sympathy, I would instead activate a douchebag buzzer and be singled out in front of my entire gym? Unacceptable.
On the other hand, we still have establishments like Planet Fitness. As for what direction they are moving within society, I guess it just depends on who you ask. I just joined this place a couple of days ago, after hearing from several people, "It's only ten bucks a month". A relatively unassuming, no-frills kind of place, PF sits in the corner lot off of Indianola where Gold's Gym used to live. It's clean. It's new. It's got a color theme. Save for the racist dress code, it's the perfect place to work out if you don't work out too hard. You know, or if you're not too Black or anything.
Racist dress code? (See item PF285 and corresponding review) What good is disallowing do-rags and bandannas other than to single out ethnic groups? Do-rags and skull caps, while attributed to certain groups more than others, do serve an athletic function and seemingly should be allowed in an athletic establishment. How else can their explicit ban be justified? Should bald people just wear a towel on their head to prevent sweat from getting in their eyes?
Being the good American consumerist, I did a little bit of research on PF after a few internal environmental aspects struck me as, well, a bit 'off'. Not so much in an Andy Dick type way, but more in a Karl Rove way. Surprisingly, the gym --despite its squeaky-clean color themes and brand-new equipment--boasted only a two-star rating on epinions.com. How could this be?
Delving a bit deeper, I started reading some of the reviews at length. In a word: disturbing.
Granted, this guy's username suggests that we probably wouldn't get along anyway, but I found his review to be only slightly emotionally charged and also very thorough and thought-provoking. He makes a couple good points as to the argument that PF is discriminatory in its practices. Just like everyone knows all the whores are in Delta Zeta without it being explicitly so, I don't want to unknowingly belong to some underground racist White people's gym without knowing it.
Several others on the site cited billing issues, or staff problems as the reason for their below average ratings. Then there is the grunting issue.
At first, I thought the grunting policy was a joke because I could not possibly see how this can actually be enforced as a policy. In summary, there is an alarm and corresponding blue flashing light (think K-mart) that the manager can sound if he or she feels someone is being judgemental or is grunting or dropping weights (See account here) and thus intimidating the other gym members. From what I have read, the manager then comes over to the 'grunter' and explains to them how this practice is not permitted. I just cannot wrap my brain around that. When I tore my ACL, I am sure I grunted. If I should happen to re-aggravate it whilst doing the leg press, instead of getting offered an ice-pack out of athletic sympathy, I would instead activate a douchebag buzzer and be singled out in front of my entire gym? Unacceptable.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Love and Cereal
A failed relationship isn't as upsetting per se, nearly as much the unexpected reminders of the joys of a great relationship. I don't walk around upset and deep in thought about what I could have done better, or how much I wish I was sharing moments with someone else. Even old pictures don't invoke lingering sentimentalism anymore, however, a trip to the grocery store can leave my heart exposed and vulnerable to the point of surrender. The grocery store is such a beautiful microcosm of day-to-day humanity.
This morning, a man about my age stood alone in line. He was dressed in dusty cargo shorts, work boots, a plain white T-shirt and his sunglasses were pushed up on his head just above his forehead. Tanned and strong, he stood there as the epitome of a hard-working, blue-collar laborer. As the cashier scanned his items, his gaze panned from the wad of cash he was thumbing in his palm to the running total on the screen. Bananas, blueberries, two boxes of cereal, milk, two cartons of orange juice: it was the recipe for a shotgun breakfast. The kind of things you buy when you are going to construct and consume right away, not even worrying about saving the rest for possibly tomorrow or the day after. When the breakfast itself is so much more important than the portions, or the three-quarters of the milk that will never be drank, or worrying that the cereal is going to go bad before you can eat it all. It's a beach breakfast, made right there and right then to be shared at no other time than when you're eating it together.
Our purchases are the stories of our lives, our days -- our relationships -- without even speaking a word.
I've never wanted a bowl of cereal so badly.
This morning, a man about my age stood alone in line. He was dressed in dusty cargo shorts, work boots, a plain white T-shirt and his sunglasses were pushed up on his head just above his forehead. Tanned and strong, he stood there as the epitome of a hard-working, blue-collar laborer. As the cashier scanned his items, his gaze panned from the wad of cash he was thumbing in his palm to the running total on the screen. Bananas, blueberries, two boxes of cereal, milk, two cartons of orange juice: it was the recipe for a shotgun breakfast. The kind of things you buy when you are going to construct and consume right away, not even worrying about saving the rest for possibly tomorrow or the day after. When the breakfast itself is so much more important than the portions, or the three-quarters of the milk that will never be drank, or worrying that the cereal is going to go bad before you can eat it all. It's a beach breakfast, made right there and right then to be shared at no other time than when you're eating it together.
Our purchases are the stories of our lives, our days -- our relationships -- without even speaking a word.
I've never wanted a bowl of cereal so badly.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
What the F?
Every once in awhile, I read something that I have to just stare at and think, "WHAT. THE. FUCK."
In other news, 1 in 4 people prefer "hoping we'll get there" to actually taking a taxi.
In other news, 1 in 4 people prefer "hoping we'll get there" to actually taking a taxi.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Uniting Furries Since the Creation of Fursuits
Humor is such a complex thing. There are several theories about what it is, how to recognize it, and we create bonds with others based on their similarity to what we perceive to be our own sense of humor. Sometimes we pay for structured humor by going to a comedy show, or a movie or something. In my opinion, the most satisfying humor is the day-to-day quirks of strangers being themselves. Especially using the Internet as a mask from behind which they write all kinds of unintentionally hilarious shit.
http://grandrapids.craigslist.org/stp/738767815.html
http://grandrapids.craigslist.org/stp/773079941.html
http://columbus.craigslist.org/stp/766498654.html
http://columbus.craigslist.org/stp/769085008.html
Thanks,
2buns
http://grandrapids.craigslist.org/stp/738767815.html
http://grandrapids.craigslist.org/stp/773079941.html
http://columbus.craigslist.org/stp/766498654.html
http://columbus.craigslist.org/stp/769085008.html
Thanks,
2buns
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Fat Princess and Feminism
Since when did the term "feminist" carry such a negative connotation-- like feminists are the new fundamentalist religious radicals around whom you can't have any fun because "they might get offended". Apparently, in the last several years, feminism has evolved into this outlandish idea that women have every right to be heard, seen, and feel feelings as men do. Any women that seems to give a shit about anything is one of those "crazy feminists". Meanwhile, the personals ads are overrun with men who are looking for a woman with a brain and yet do not know how to treat such a foreign being because they are not used to anyone with an ponytail and an opinion.
Deep breath.
The point is, is that I am totally pissed off about something that doesn't even concern me, specifically, but is just so insulting to humans in general that I have to say something about it. Sure, it is easy to go with the flow - to accept stereotypes just because they exist, and to not speak up when someone uses commonly accepted language as a silent weapon against you or people you care about, but it is more rewarding for me personally to reject even those commonly accepted things that carry insulting undertones with which I just do not agree.
For instance, Sony's new video game: Fat Princess. No, I am not kidding, there is actually a game on the market called Fat Princess. The title itself is perhaps a little tasteless, but the object of the game is what is mind-blowingly insulting. It's your typical princess-stuck-in-a-castle game, wherein she needs rescued (groan), but players can feed the princess cake to make her fat so that she can't be rescued and carried away.
Wait, what?
Without even touching upon the traditional gender imbalance inherent in these kinds of video games from the inception of the Super Mario series, this game is basically ascertaining that when the princess is skinny (as she starts the game to be), that she is able to be rescued and have her freedom. But, when she's been locked against her will in some castle being force-fed cake, she must remain a prisoner to both her captors and her own fat ass. In short: a fat princess can't be rescued.
Two points here:
1. The reinforcement of fat people as being a target of ridicule is alarming and infuriating. Yes, it is true that this nation is constantly struggling through obesity crises, however, marketing a game that will surely do nothing to address this issue properly is unnecessary. I can already see young children (girls AND boys, although this plays more in to gender stereotypes than I am claiming here) being ridiculed with this game as armor.
2. What the hell kind of market does Sony think they are marketing to?!
Moreover, I grow increasingly more critical of journalism (if writing on the web is still considered to be journalism) when something like this that I feel infringes upon the happiness of several different groups of people, is reported throughout the headlines as an event that is "outraging feminists". Why am I being pigeonholed here? Why can't just decent people be outraged? Moreover, have you ever seen a story that reported that feminists are pleased? How about this one: Feminists Embrace Decency.
Deep breath.
The point is, is that I am totally pissed off about something that doesn't even concern me, specifically, but is just so insulting to humans in general that I have to say something about it. Sure, it is easy to go with the flow - to accept stereotypes just because they exist, and to not speak up when someone uses commonly accepted language as a silent weapon against you or people you care about, but it is more rewarding for me personally to reject even those commonly accepted things that carry insulting undertones with which I just do not agree.
For instance, Sony's new video game: Fat Princess. No, I am not kidding, there is actually a game on the market called Fat Princess. The title itself is perhaps a little tasteless, but the object of the game is what is mind-blowingly insulting. It's your typical princess-stuck-in-a-castle game, wherein she needs rescued (groan), but players can feed the princess cake to make her fat so that she can't be rescued and carried away.
Wait, what?
Without even touching upon the traditional gender imbalance inherent in these kinds of video games from the inception of the Super Mario series, this game is basically ascertaining that when the princess is skinny (as she starts the game to be), that she is able to be rescued and have her freedom. But, when she's been locked against her will in some castle being force-fed cake, she must remain a prisoner to both her captors and her own fat ass. In short: a fat princess can't be rescued.
Two points here:
1. The reinforcement of fat people as being a target of ridicule is alarming and infuriating. Yes, it is true that this nation is constantly struggling through obesity crises, however, marketing a game that will surely do nothing to address this issue properly is unnecessary. I can already see young children (girls AND boys, although this plays more in to gender stereotypes than I am claiming here) being ridiculed with this game as armor.
2. What the hell kind of market does Sony think they are marketing to?!
Moreover, I grow increasingly more critical of journalism (if writing on the web is still considered to be journalism) when something like this that I feel infringes upon the happiness of several different groups of people, is reported throughout the headlines as an event that is "outraging feminists". Why am I being pigeonholed here? Why can't just decent people be outraged? Moreover, have you ever seen a story that reported that feminists are pleased? How about this one: Feminists Embrace Decency.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Honoring a Food Blogger
Due to total cliche reasons about the world becoming more of a technological society, the people that we e-meet and correspond with online are just as much of a part of our lives than the people that we actually know and sometimes do not even see that often. I'd venture to say that I have stronger bonds with some people with which I do not or can not spend a lot of face time, as opposed to people I went to school with and spent hours upon hours of sharing physical space. I do not think that this speaks to the fact that we are becoming isolationists, I just think that the way that we socially interact has changed.
Today, I discovered that one of the women that authored a frequently-visited food blog passed away suddenly. I felt no less sympathy and sadness than if I had learned a friend had passed. I re-visited her blog and saw this following passage, as written by her husband:
Many of the regular visitors to What Did You Eat? have already heard the tragic news that this site's creator, Sherry Cermak, died on July 20, 2008 of a sudden heart attack. Sherry was part of two wonderful blogging communities. The food bloggers, which was the main topic of What Did You Eat?, and the cat bloggers where she posted updates on the lives of her cats and rescued wildlife (squirrels) on WCB. Sherry shared parts of her personal life on her blog, most recently her anemia and what she was cooking and eating to improve her blood count. She had started a new blog "My Battle with Anemia", but died before she could make the initial posting.
As a fellow anemic this was difficult to read, but to visit her blog and see her entries just days earlier filled with the enthusiasm of beating her illness and trying to craft her recipes around her deficiency was heartbreaking and inspiring.
Tonight, I will be making one of her recipes in her honor. Hopefully Sherry was aware of how many strangers and e-friends she had in her life before it was taken from her.
Today, I discovered that one of the women that authored a frequently-visited food blog passed away suddenly. I felt no less sympathy and sadness than if I had learned a friend had passed. I re-visited her blog and saw this following passage, as written by her husband:
Many of the regular visitors to What Did You Eat? have already heard the tragic news that this site's creator, Sherry Cermak, died on July 20, 2008 of a sudden heart attack. Sherry was part of two wonderful blogging communities. The food bloggers, which was the main topic of What Did You Eat?, and the cat bloggers where she posted updates on the lives of her cats and rescued wildlife (squirrels) on WCB. Sherry shared parts of her personal life on her blog, most recently her anemia and what she was cooking and eating to improve her blood count. She had started a new blog "My Battle with Anemia", but died before she could make the initial posting.
As a fellow anemic this was difficult to read, but to visit her blog and see her entries just days earlier filled with the enthusiasm of beating her illness and trying to craft her recipes around her deficiency was heartbreaking and inspiring.
Tonight, I will be making one of her recipes in her honor. Hopefully Sherry was aware of how many strangers and e-friends she had in her life before it was taken from her.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
You Live... Where?
I don't think I could buy a house on a street if I wasn't ready to embrace the name of the street on which it was located. Just today, returning from Easton, I passed a street called Leather Stocking Trail. I mean, seriously? How are you going to explain what a Leather Stocking is when your children want to know?
"Oh, it's like socks. Made of dead cow skin. Arranged in such a manner so that it acts as a path if you ever wanted to follow them to get somewhere."
I recently ran into someone who had visited some family in the Columbus/Gahanna area and asked if Cherry Bottom road was a joke. The rest of the crowd burst into laughter at the mention of "Cherry Bottom". Moreover, do you really want to have to give these directions:
Take Cherry Bottom all the way to the Freedom Ridge, and then just follow Leather Stocking Trail all the way here.
Uh, what kind of party is this again?
In other news, hearing the song "I'm so Excited (and I Just Can't Hide it)" when you are not excited is some form of sick punishment
"Oh, it's like socks. Made of dead cow skin. Arranged in such a manner so that it acts as a path if you ever wanted to follow them to get somewhere."
I recently ran into someone who had visited some family in the Columbus/Gahanna area and asked if Cherry Bottom road was a joke. The rest of the crowd burst into laughter at the mention of "Cherry Bottom". Moreover, do you really want to have to give these directions:
Take Cherry Bottom all the way to the Freedom Ridge, and then just follow Leather Stocking Trail all the way here.
Uh, what kind of party is this again?
In other news, hearing the song "I'm so Excited (and I Just Can't Hide it)" when you are not excited is some form of sick punishment
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Wii NES
Subtlety is incredibly sexy. Does the Nintendo Wii come straight out and hand everything to you at once? No. You have to work hard at it, get better at some things at which you have previously sucked, and then -- out of nowhere -- you get some new stuff unlocked. And you know what you're doing the entire time that you're waiting out moments in between unlocked songs or games? Thinking about how great it is going to be when you finally get another one.
I think a lot of people could benefit from a similar dating structure.
I think a lot of people could benefit from a similar dating structure.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
If You're Not Waiting for Something, You're Just Waiting.
Recently, I spent 5 days in Florida -- which, if you've ever been to Florida you realize this is 4 days too many. This well-deserved (says me) time off of work thankfully coincided with the release of the new iPhone, which, I wasn't at all interested in until I realized I had the day off and could thus spend it standing in line.
I had planned to get there early. 6am early. Then, I realized that taking my mom and grandma to the airport would thwart these plans, and that if I were still going to commit to the iPhone line, I would have to meet up around 9:45 and probably bring up the rear of the line behind all of the people that got there way before the 8am release. Again, I had the day off. So I did it. I waited in line for the iPhone.
I did it for the experience. The experience -- which saw survival of the fittest and most patient. I weathered the hot Florida sun and humidity, the threat of a downpour, Apple POS system crash they blamed on AT&T, achy feet from standing in heels, and free McDonald's hamburgers. McDonald's --never one to miss a marketing opportunity -- was the official cater of the iPhone line. All the hamburgers, Desani water, and apple dippers you could eat: $0, 6 hours of waiting.
Comments from passersby outside were at a minimum, however, when we graduated from Line 1: outside, to Line 2: inside, mall patrons were less forgiving of the cumbersome line crowding their mall. In such a way that strangers communicate the most pertinent bit of information they can in their passing moments, it is amazing what some of the observers verbally left behind.
Basically: they were better than us. The International Plaza Mall -- snooty even by its namesake -- is not the most forgiving place to wait in line.
An older, petite woman, who appeared sharp in nature, critical in expression, and poised as though her entire person had been raped from a high-end boutique's front, vapid mannequin powered by the line and demanded to know why we were there. She wore a color of green I could never afford.
"What. Are you waiting in line for?" She asked, to no one in particular.
"The iPhone," several people responded with vigor that was oddly excited and exhausted.
With the upward wave of a wrinkled, wretched wizard's hand, she cackled upward into the air as she dramatically tilted her head back and released the coldness in her soul. "Ha!" The echo of her laughter enshrouded all whose eyes were upon her and minimized them to a pile of dust underneath the condescending demeanor of someone who has never waited in line for anything. Anything at all.
I had planned to get there early. 6am early. Then, I realized that taking my mom and grandma to the airport would thwart these plans, and that if I were still going to commit to the iPhone line, I would have to meet up around 9:45 and probably bring up the rear of the line behind all of the people that got there way before the 8am release. Again, I had the day off. So I did it. I waited in line for the iPhone.
I did it for the experience. The experience -- which saw survival of the fittest and most patient. I weathered the hot Florida sun and humidity, the threat of a downpour, Apple POS system crash they blamed on AT&T, achy feet from standing in heels, and free McDonald's hamburgers. McDonald's --never one to miss a marketing opportunity -- was the official cater of the iPhone line. All the hamburgers, Desani water, and apple dippers you could eat: $0, 6 hours of waiting.
Comments from passersby outside were at a minimum, however, when we graduated from Line 1: outside, to Line 2: inside, mall patrons were less forgiving of the cumbersome line crowding their mall. In such a way that strangers communicate the most pertinent bit of information they can in their passing moments, it is amazing what some of the observers verbally left behind.
Basically: they were better than us. The International Plaza Mall -- snooty even by its namesake -- is not the most forgiving place to wait in line.
An older, petite woman, who appeared sharp in nature, critical in expression, and poised as though her entire person had been raped from a high-end boutique's front, vapid mannequin powered by the line and demanded to know why we were there. She wore a color of green I could never afford.
"What. Are you waiting in line for?" She asked, to no one in particular.
"The iPhone," several people responded with vigor that was oddly excited and exhausted.
With the upward wave of a wrinkled, wretched wizard's hand, she cackled upward into the air as she dramatically tilted her head back and released the coldness in her soul. "Ha!" The echo of her laughter enshrouded all whose eyes were upon her and minimized them to a pile of dust underneath the condescending demeanor of someone who has never waited in line for anything. Anything at all.
Close to the Heart
Today's observation is pretty simple: if you have your boobs hanging out, people are much more forward in approaching you.
I have worked promotional jobs in which we weren't required to wear any sort of uniform, and I rarely got approached or asked out whatsoever. Last night, I got two email addresses, three compliments on my legs, and a marriage proposal. It's all about the boobs.
I have worked promotional jobs in which we weren't required to wear any sort of uniform, and I rarely got approached or asked out whatsoever. Last night, I got two email addresses, three compliments on my legs, and a marriage proposal. It's all about the boobs.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Plenty of Fish in My Ass
Sure, I have had enough sugar this morning to adversely affect a Shih-tzu, however, I am a little fired up about something. According to a popular and free dating site, I am "unfit to date". First of all, how I came across the inspiration for this post is unimportant. Second, some of you may remember a post that I wrote a couple of years ago about getting rejected from eHarmony after a series of tests totaling and wasting 45 minutes of my life. Back then, I was somewhat miffed of being a reject from a site that rejects go to solely to feel accepted, but then eHarmony revealed its Jesus-y agenda and I realized that my negative answers within a very small category of questions was the culprit for my banishment from the rest of my church-faring e-suitors. Fine. I am cool with that, however, if it is Christian dating only, say 'Christian dating only'.
In addition to my not-so-secret obsession with Disney musicals, Scrabulous, and the pursuit of trivia, I love spending time passing the day by browsing Craigslist socialphenomena. While things written for the sake of humor are generally funny (The Onion, et al), the comedic gold of unintentional irony trumps the efforts of best writers around. Unaware, unfunny people are the funniest people around. Anyway, three clicks later I end up at some free dating site called PlentyOfFish.com. Clever. Slightly suspicious of the Biblical reference, but willing to see if there are any other catches, besides that it's free - and anyone living in an old refrigerator box with a library card can sign up for it.
Plenty of people write transparent personal ads that can be summed up as in, "My last ex fucked me over, here's how he fucked me over; I am looking for someone the opposite of him, (insert mean-spirited jab here), and I need validation that I am not a completely shitty person." PlentyofFish, from its front page seems to have a couple of issues itself and appears to have had a shitty relationship with 'those other pay dating sites'. You cancheck it out for yourself, but for the sake of this post, I just want to point you to bullet point number uno:
1. We banish anyone who is extremely rude, has anger management issues, uploads fake pictures or is otherwise href="http://www.plentyoffish.com/terms.aspxcode">unfit to date.
I already know that me and this dating site need some space. Curiosity leads me to dig a little deeper and see just what the socially acceptable definition of 'unfit to date' is.
Please allow me to demonstrate why this is not acceptable:
So... my account is going to be deleted if I ask you your name, where you live, or if you have your legs or not. Got it.
Whatever you do, please limit yourself to this sterilized bullshit and do NOT go to my personal page to learn more about what I am really like.
Wheras this site should have kindly provided a link to a code of conduct relevant to their site, instead they have suggested that their code of conduct as stated above is the general standard for the 'unfit to date'. Clearly not true, as whether you are fit to date is clearly based on how awesome your ass is -- slanderous or not.
In addition to my not-so-secret obsession with Disney musicals, Scrabulous, and the pursuit of trivia, I love spending time passing the day by browsing Craigslist socialphenomena. While things written for the sake of humor are generally funny (The Onion, et al), the comedic gold of unintentional irony trumps the efforts of best writers around. Unaware, unfunny people are the funniest people around. Anyway, three clicks later I end up at some free dating site called PlentyOfFish.com. Clever. Slightly suspicious of the Biblical reference, but willing to see if there are any other catches, besides that it's free - and anyone living in an old refrigerator box with a library card can sign up for it.
Plenty of people write transparent personal ads that can be summed up as in, "My last ex fucked me over, here's how he fucked me over; I am looking for someone the opposite of him, (insert mean-spirited jab here), and I need validation that I am not a completely shitty person." PlentyofFish, from its front page seems to have a couple of issues itself and appears to have had a shitty relationship with 'those other pay dating sites'. You cancheck it out for yourself, but for the sake of this post, I just want to point you to bullet point number uno:
1. We banish anyone who is extremely rude, has anger management issues, uploads fake pictures or is otherwise href="http://www.plentyoffish.com/terms.aspxcode">unfit to date.
I already know that me and this dating site need some space. Curiosity leads me to dig a little deeper and see just what the socially acceptable definition of 'unfit to date' is.
Please allow me to demonstrate why this is not acceptable:
You agree to use the Service in accordance with the following Code of Conduct:So... what kind of 'information' are we talking here? If I meet someone through this site, and they tell me about the time that they stayed over at some girl's house and shit himself in his sleep and had to crawl out through the window... then ... I'm not allowed to tell anyone unless he says it's okay?!! Are you fucking kidding me? My illicit yelling about your balls is my business.
a. you will keep all information provided to you through the Service as private and confidential and will not
give such information to anyone without the permission of the person who provided it to you;
b. you will not use the Service to engage in any form of harassment or offensive behavior, includingI am not sure if this code of conduct has been updated since the late 1950s, however, this is such a common practice that the Fox News even does it. Is the staff of the every sitcom, every blog, every satirical magazine, and every person that has every laughed at a joke ever, not fit to date? No cussing, no laughing, and definitely no personality: that's what people are looking for in a date? What the fuck are we supposed to do: lay in our seperate twin beds laughing at Family Circus cartoons?
but not limited to the posting of communications, pictures or recordings which contain libelous, slanderous, abusive
or defamatory statements, or racist, pornographic, obscene, or offensive language;
c. you will not forward chain letters through the Service;I hardly think my disentitlement to date someone should be based on whether or not I forward chain letters. So I legitimately thought that Target was being taken over by the French and genuinely expressed my concern by letting everyone in my entire email history know about it. My golden intentions have already violated two of these caveats, and sealed my ineligibility to use this Service. No! Not the pay sites!!! Anything but the pay sites!!!!
d. you will not use the Service to infringe the privacy rights, property rights, or any other rights of any person;
So... my account is going to be deleted if I ask you your name, where you live, or if you have your legs or not. Got it.
e. you will not post messages, pictures or recordings or use the Service in any way whichI am unfit to date if I make fun of PlentyofFi---oops.
i. violates, plagiarizes or infringes upon the rights of any third party, including but not limited to any copyright
or trade-mark law, privacy or other personal or proprietary rights, or ii. is fraudulent or otherwise unlawful or violates any law; and
f. you will not use the Service to distribute, promote or otherwise publish any material containing any solicitation for funds, advertising or solicitation for goods or services.
Whatever you do, please limit yourself to this sterilized bullshit and do NOT go to my personal page to learn more about what I am really like.
g. you will not use the Service to distribute or up load any virus, trojan horses or do anything else that mightPretty sure that anyone that is okay with the code of conduct this far down doesn't know what a Trojan is.
cause harm to the Service, Plentyoffish systems or to other members' systems in any way.
h. you will not post or transmit in any manner any contact information including, but not limited to, email
addresses, "instant messenger" nicknames, telephone numbers, postal addresses, URLs, or full names through your
publicly posted information.
Wheras this site should have kindly provided a link to a code of conduct relevant to their site, instead they have suggested that their code of conduct as stated above is the general standard for the 'unfit to date'. Clearly not true, as whether you are fit to date is clearly based on how awesome your ass is -- slanderous or not.
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