Why does this question ever have to be asked? Apparently, the answer is any day from tomorrow until Tuesday. And there are specific hours, too. WTF, Americans. Is tomorrow the 31st? No, no it isn’t. I’ll have you know that only one of those days is the 31st. And who goes trick-or-treating before dark, if they’re older than 5 years old? What’s wrong with you people? They got the date right in Chicago, at least. But 1pm-7pm? ONE FUCKING PM??? That’s it, kids. You’re all getting razorblades from me. Not that anyone visits our apartment. But if they did, and if they buzzed at 1pm before sensible people are even AWAKE… Poisoned candy. Hear me? Don’t think weirdos like me won’t kill you bastards before dusk. The daylight WILL NOT SAVE YOU. Okay? Being “safe” is for suckers. Correct way to do trick-or-treating: all black outfit, 10pm, jaywalking from house to house, still not getting run over because you’re not a fucking moron who doesn’t look both ways, even if you’re only seven. Wah wah wah. Babies.
“Canada’s New Government”? Blah blah blah, some shit about some scientist or whatever. This is too stupid to even comment on. I’m guessing that everyone else agrees, since there are only 300-some articles to be found about this on Google News, and most of them don’t seem to be related to the rebranding. But this needs more attention. Now I’m going to go vomit!
Yep. Printing “PLEASE DO NOT DISCARD” on the front of envelopes containing credit card offers sure fools me.
Here is some information about your Blogger account: your user name is not Candice. I know this because my user name is Candice. All of you other Candices, stop trying to reset the password to an account that is not yours when you realize that you cannot remember that password (because you never knew it) (because the account is not yours). I’m sick of getting several Blogger Account Information e-mails every day. I mean, it’s cool that I joined so long ago that I was able to register my first name, but this is just freakin’ annoying. Okay, not really. Junk filter, go!
I know that I speak quietly. And I’m sure that I mumble on the phone. But I still don’t understand why so many people here in Chicago hear my name as “Kim” (as opposed to “Kansas” anywhere else). And I’ve tried saying it super-clearly. It doesn’t work.
I know that many people in the United States are retarded and pronounce one-syllable words with two syllables (and I’m from Canada, so people think I’m slow… eh). But I also blame the Northern Cities Shift. Or maybe it’s just the in~en shift. Either way… I’d just figured out how to understand what the hell people in Indiana were trying to say to me, and drifted my Bob close enough to Bahb so as to not confuse anyone. Can’t any of you Americans pronounce your vowels properly (or at all)??? Do I have to say CAY-ehn-dice (three sylabbles) for anyone to understand what I’m saying? I refuse to pick up any more drawl! Refuse!
Peoples Energy, I shake my fist at you. $16.24 activation charge? For what? To change the information on the already existing, already working account? Don’t you think that if you are going to charge $16.24 for this service that you should make some effort to at least get that information right?
Who is Dean Payne? I know that my handwriting can be a little bit messy sometimes (although I’m pretty careful about it in cases where I would like people to copy something down accurately). But if anything, half of my letters are scribbles that look like esses (at least gee, wi, dee, bee, pee, jay, and duh… ess…) I’m reasonably sure that I couldn’t possibly have made the name Sean look like Dean. And it’s a curious fact that the letter dee is right next to ess on the keyboard…
You bastards didn’t even bother to change the address on the account. You have the street number wrong. You have the apartment number wrong. It’s probably a fluke that the bill wound up in the right state. It took three weeks to convince you that my apartment existed, and even then, your customer service representatives could not figure out how to enter it into the computer. The only apartment at this address on record is “basement”. There is no basement here…
I confuses me why the account is in my husband’s name (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) in the first place, since apparently you were unable to open an account using his SSN when we called you and tried. You told us that Sean was already in your system, and that he owed you several hundreds of dollars. I wonder whose number is now incorrectly associated with us.
I look forward to paying you unnecessarily large sums of my money every month for what I hope will continue to be sub-par service.
P.S. – Metric system, plz. WTF is a “therm”. People that aren’t stupid measure in joules.
Speaking of idiotic organizations, my green card arrived today, miraculously. The address on the envelope doesn’t exist… The USPS, in a freakish episode of competenceness managed to get it to its destination. And the mailman, in a freakish episode of paying attention to what the hell he was doing managed to put it into the mailbox instead of onto the floor beneath it as usual. Thanks, mailman! That was nice of you!
The next time someone honks at me for not turning right on a green light when there are pedestrians are crossing the street, I think I will put my car into reverse. Okay, I won’t. But seriously, do they want me to run those people over so that they can get to work faster? It seems like the only reason anyone ever honks on me is because I’m avoiding doing something illegal. Like stopping at a stop sign or red light, or not turning right in front of a bus… WTF.
(A search for “run pedestrians over” on Google leads to an image on Flikr with the title “Please don’t run over pedestrians. They cross here.” I disagree. The crosswalk in the photo leads to a Church of Scientology branch…)
Rebuttal: 9-64-090 (k).
So, yeah. Nice new apartment in Chicago. In a residential parking zone. I just moved here. I do not have a city sticker. I do not have a residential parking permit. I do not have any of the 87 other things my car needs to be legal in this state. I am not required to have these things yet, because there is a 30 day grace period. There is no way for anybody looking at my car to know that, though. Those stickers are what keeps cars on this street from being ticketed and/or towed. So everytime I go outside, there’s a happy orange suprise waiting for me on my windshield. I would gladly pay for the darn stickers, but it’s a long weekend. I would have paid for them first chance I got, on Friday, but the paperwork I needed was still buried in a box somewhere. I will pay for them sometime in the near future, but in the meantime… please to not be towing my car, thx. Luckily, this street is only a tow zone during speicial events. Unluckily, Jimmy Buffet counts as a special event, and he’s playing just down the road. I guess it’s okay, unless they decide to tow me in the next two hours or so… but still. Very lame. Maybe I’ll just go sit on my hood until then. Or maybe I’ll just stick a copy of my lease and a note in giant magic marker letters with lots of exclamation points on my window. Or maybe I’ll just sit here eating ice cream and not watching TV or using the internet at any acceptable speed because our cable isn’t hooked up yet. Yes.
Sharper Image’s new Ionic Breeze machine turns oxygen into oxygen! Amazing!
(The commercial I saw on TV also told me that it converted smog into oxygen. Mhm. Only if that smog already consists of oxygen or a reasonable allotrope thereof. Or is it magical?)
Kevin Trudeau’s book of bullshit Natural Cures ‘They’ Don’t Want You to Know About is a bestseller? According to The Daily Show, anyhoo. People are stupidlyer than I thought. And I didn’t think that they were generally very smart to begin with. Even if it was rational for people watching the infomercial to believe that there were natural cures to diabetes/cancer/herpes that somehow hadn’t already been on the front page of the newspaper because there’s some sinister they keeping them a secret… shouldn’t it offend their sensibilities just a wee to have Kevin pretend to be the good guy (and he is not ), to hear him claim that they won’t let the secrets get out because “it’s all about the money”, and then to be asked to fork over $29.95 for the book (BTW, the cures aren’t even in the book — you also need to subscribe to the newsletter and mailing list for extra $$$ for those)? Let me tell you… I contemplated “losing” the copy of the infomercial that my TV station had more than a few times. Not only is Kevin Trudeau taking advantage of people, but he’s a complete and utter moron, and the infomercial is just bloody annoying. Possibly moreso than The 700 Club. Wait. No. Nothing beats The 700 Club. Not even Bill O’Reilly (speaking of Billy boy… I think I agreed with him for the first time ever when he spoke out against Kevin Trudeau recently).
This is my favourite part of the infomercial:
There are health freedoms in this country that are being taken away from us. There are more people sick today than ever before. There are more people that are overweight. There are more people that have diabetes. There are more people that have cancer. There are more people that have heart disease. There are more people that have migraine headaches. There are more people that have arthritis. There are more people that have virtually every major health abnormality.
Yes, Kevy. There are more people. Period. Point, plz? He sounds like enough of an idiot here even before anyone gets around to pointing out anything about better diagnosis or treatment of these diseases (i.e. nobody had epilepsy in the 16th century, when it was so obvious at the time that the symptoms were caused by demons (also the cause of just about every other disease, I’m sure), and that the cure was exorcism — that’s an increase in the number of cases of oh… infinity percent), or that people are also living longer than ever before… Yes, it’s so obvious. Modern medicine is failing us. Miserably.
Which reminds me how happy I am that I no longer work at Fox. I will never again have to watch 12 infomercials over a weekend, Fox News Sunday, or The 700 Club. We all know that I still will, because I just love getting myself angry… but I don’t have to anymore. I am doing a little dance of joy right now, but you can’t see it.