Just for fun.

What song was #1 on the charts on the day you were born?

You think maybe it says something about how you turned out? Your theme song, perhaps?

Mine is Get Off My Cloud - The Rolling Stones.

This might explain those two years I spent in the ninth grade, but my theme song?

Try it for yourself. Let me know how it turned out.

I am going to need therapy after this one.

Picture it, Sicily, 1929.... no wait, that's another show.

Picture it, Weird Office Guy, standing in front of the open microwave.

He takes his nuked dinner out, places it on the counter. He is about to close the door when something attracts his attention. He is mesmerized by the contents of the microwave. He stands, slack-jawed, contemplating his dilemma.

I watch in horror as he reaches in, runs his fingers across the plate inside and jams whatever it is IN HIS MOUTH! He repeats this process until he is satisfied that whatever he has spilled in there is cleaned up.

Howie Mandel would drop dead.

The children are our future.

Observed at the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™.

"Quick, Ami, look right!" Ami responds by promptly whipping her head around to the left. I start to chuckle.

"What?"

"You looked left."

"Really?" Then (I kid you not) she raised both hands in front of her face making L shapes with her thumb and forefinger. (Allow the boy to demonstrate.)



She studies her fingers intently, "Huh, your right."

"On my planet, we can distinguish right and left without the use of sign language."

This sparks a disturbing discussion on righty tighty, lefty loosey and how to tell how many days are in a month by figuring out which knuckle it corresponds to.

The knuckle thing was one I hadn't heard before, so, not being able to pass up an opportunity to ridicule a superior, I asked one of the TM's. "How many days in July?"

He looked at me for a second, perplexed, then made a fist and proceeded to count it out on his knuckles, which was met with laughter from the team.

"So, that's why I can't get a TM job. I don't know the knuckle thing."

Weird Office Guy

Every office has one and the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™ is no different.

I wish I had a picture of this guy, but I will try to describe him as best I can.

He is tall, overweight, receding hairline with curly hair. He has coke bottle glasses and wears golf shirts with track pants and a belt. I know this because the belt is clearly 8 feet long because (since there are no loops in track pants) the tail of it hangs down between his legs like a dick. As I mentioned he is overweight and walks like he is pregnant, only somehow he does this on his tip toes. Getting the picture yet?

Here comes the gross part. Like every lame-ass company the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™ has employee of the month celebrations (you guessed it) every month. With cake! Me and the rest of the smokers sit outside and watch this spectacle through the glass doors that separate the clean from the unclean.

On one such occasion I witnessed WOG, oblivious of what was going on around him walk past the Big Giant Head, who was expounding the virtues of our recent nominees and parked himself in front of the two enormous cakes that sat waiting to be enjoyed by the masses.

He stood there, stomach out, leather dick swinging in the breeze, seeming to contemplate the confection. Then he did something that made my blood run cold.

Oblivious to the ceremony going on around him, he reached out and ran two chubby little fingers the full length of the first cake, leaving a noticeable tack of bare cake, raised his fingers triumphantly he jammed the icing into is fat little pie hole.

JESUS H CHRIST!

What the hell is this social retard doing? Why isn't the Big Giant Head seeing this? I waited for him to make a fast get away. After all he had just grossed out most of the people in the room, or would once they realized what he had done. He will have to get out fast before he is detected by someone other than me, who can do nothing from behind the glass. I wait for him to bolt but he doesn't. Instead, he sucks his fingers clean and heads for the second cake.

As I try and keep my breakfast down he repeats his assault on the second cake, and nonchalantly waddles away. But he doesn't leave. He sits back and waits for the idiots to cut the cake and then walks away with three pieces.

The moral of this story is: Never eat from the community cake. You really don't know where that cake has been or what indignities have befallen it.

I go green as I realize how many times I have jammed that cake into my own pie hole. And I don't even want to think about what he does on natcho day.

As promised, the TV story.

Short back story. My sister left her husband. Got a boyfriend, moved him in. Left for India, broke up with boyfriend. Comes back from India, gets back with husband.

Now she has to get rid of boyfriends stuff. Namely a huge flatscreen TV.

I go to visit her one night and she asks me to deliver the TV. I agree and the TV gets put into the backseat of my car,(not by me) I notice it is broken. Looks like the cable was ripped from the back of it. Nice. "Uh, the TV is broken. Maybe he doesn't want it back?" She will find out where his is living and call me with instructions.

A week later, the TV is still in the backseat of the car. Why, you ask? Because it is a huge TV and I don't think I can lift it. And even if I do, where would I lift it to? I live on the second floor, I am not carrying that monstrosity up the stairs into my apartment only to carry it back down when my sister figures out what to do with it.

So, after a week, the landlord is here and I ask him to put it in the barn. He and his friend carry it into the barn. Can't ruin it since it is already broken. No sooner is this done and the landlord is gone, but I get a call from the sister. Seems the boyfriend does not want the tv back. Great.

"So, do you want to buy it from me?"

"What?"

"You were going to get a new TV, you want to buy that one from me?"

"You want me to buy the free broken TV?"

"Ya." Remember this is my sister talking.

"The TV you essentially got for nothing, then broke. You want me to buy that TV?"

"Ya, well I got bills that I need to pay."

So, I forget that we are sisters, (since she clearly has) and we agree that if it can be fixed, I will buy it. It is a really good deal if it can be fixed. "How much do you want for it?"

"How much were you going to pay for a new one?"

"One Fifty."

"Cool"

So, I take it to be fixed. Eighty Three dollars and ninety cents later, I have a new TV.



Here's where the injury comes in. This is a huge tv (not even sure how big), and I haven't had a tv in the living room that works properly for a long time. Add to that that this one has SVideo so I can hook it up to the computer and watch my movies, so I want it in the house as soon as possible. No time to wait for someone to help. I carry this monster up two flights of stairs and I hear something crack. Its not the tv.

But hey, I spent the whole day and night flat on my back watching my new tv.

And another thing...

The reason I am in the wrong business, the bill for the tv reads like this:

Shop supplies - $6.00
RCA type terminal - $6.95
LABOUR - $60.00
Total after tax - $83.90

It is important to note that I dropped the TV off at 1pm and he called me to pick it up at 3pm. I am not stupid and I figure it wasn't the only thing he was working on and he didn't bump me to the front of the line just because I am so cute. I figure it took him maybe half an hour to fix it. And if he couldn't fix it he still gets to keep the $20 deposit I left, just for looking at it.

Maybe I need to look into a career in electronics repair.

Who goes there?

I have had a visitor or two during the night.



Wonder who it could be?

This is a long one, brace yourself.

This is a really long story, but I will try and keep it brief. I have been having some issues at the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™. Mostly with authority, or lack thereof.

As you may or may not be able to imagine from my writings. I am not the most conforming creature on the planet. I am a good worker and I enjoy my job. That being said, here is my problem. I have no patience for idiocy. I have no problem obeying the rules of the road as long as the reason for that rule is not 'cuz I said'. I know I am not really explaining this well and without getting into specifics I guess I can't.

Suffice to say, they have some pretty screwed up rules at the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™. Not where it applies to how you actually deliver customer service, but how you are gauged against your peers as far as job performance metrics are concerned. Does that make sense?

For instance, I could be on a difficult call, someone developing an app for a website, using a specific programming language, affecting the OS and the office products with a really weird error message. It could be the code, it could be the app it could be the OS or the combination of all, or something completely different that the customer hasn't even thought of.

I have to figure out where the real problem lies. All of this and he can't find his contract number, so now I have to also track down his account manager and get authorization for the case at 10:30 on a Saturday night. Twenty minutes later, I am conferencing in the only tech on the planet that has seen this before and has a solution. The customer is beside himself thanking me for my help. His job is saved, the website will be up and running. Everyone is happy, right?

Wrong. I get the call coach for that call and I fail because I didn't say his name enough. I kid you not. There is a number, they won't tell us that number but there is one. You're on a call this long, you say his name this many times. WTF? They tell us if we get 'meets expectations' on every one of the tool's sections, our score is 3, a pass on the call. Great. But then they say in order to get a raise, you have to be 3.17. Then they can't figure out why this might upset people. So, of course I voice my opinion and basically tell my TM he is an idiot and promptly get a professionalism letter added to my file.

This is just one of the things that frustrates all of us at the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™. We know we are doing our job, and going even that extra mile to make sure our customers speak to the right tech the first time, every time. However, the TM's have a little list that they tick off and some of them don't even take into account how the overall call went.

Everyone is complaining, I am just the loudest one. Another TM tried to explain the stupid logic behind the process and I gave him the hand. Stopped him from talking and said, "Ya know what? I just don't give a shit."

Next thing you know I get an email from the MO, requesting a meeting. Friday at 5pm. Don't they fire people on Fridays?

So, I am not in on Thursday (I hurt myself moving a tv, tell ya that story later) and on Friday I am prepared. I park at the front of the building just in case the MO wants to swipe me out of the building I don't have to walk past everyone. I am hopped up on pain medication so I am surprisingly calm. I walk into her office cube and I was blown away. She spent about 30 seconds commenting on my attitude then it took a bizarre turn.

I won't bore you with the details but she said stuff like, "When your happy, everyone is happy. What can we do to make you happy?" and "If you going to be a team manager..."

She tells me that I have the ability to influence those around me, and that when I feel like the TM's are not listening to me or giving me the right information to just not bother with them and come straight to her.

I can't let an invitation like that go so I start in on my tirade. Tell her everything that is bothering me about everything. I let her know how everyone is feeling. That no one even thinks they will ever get a raise again. On and on and on, she is typing feverishly through the whole thing.

Then she turns to me and says. "This information that you have is totally false. 95% of your group is getting raises, and 10% of those are getting the highest raise."

"There is a problem then, because your information is NOT getting translated properly to us."

Bottom line: I need to stop getting so upset over bad information from the lower management. It's not that they are giving false info. They just aren't explaining themselves very well. I can deal with that.

The better part of an hour goes by and we are laughing as we leave her cube. I look across the floor and see my team, all standing up watching for me. I laugh. They were worried or hoping that I got the sack. Depending on whom you ask.

As I take my place with my team, I walk by the TM who is responsible for getting that meeting for me. I am practically giddy, pat him on the back and in my best 'children's tv host' voice say, "Hey, TM, how is your day going?"

I really love my job.

TBF's idea of a family outing.

The boy discovered a while back that one particular soda machine outside Walmart has a defect.

You put a toonie (two dollars for you yanks in the audience) in the slot, push the button repeatedly like mad and 4 or 5 cans of pop will come out as well as change for one can.

The Boy's Father thinks this is an appropriate Sunday Night activity. He picks up the boy and they see how many cans they can get for ten bucks.

Ward Cleaver, he ain't.

Wanted.

Will Trade: One red paper clip for a house.

How cool is this idea? Man starts with one red paperclip and through a series of trades, he hopes to end up with a house.

So far he has traded:

Paperclip for a fish pen.
Fish pen for a door knob.
Door knob for a Coleman stove.
Coleman stove for a generator.
Generator for an instant party. Which included: one beer keg,one neon Budweiser sign and one I.O.U. for a kegÂ’s worth of beer.
Instant party for a skidoo.
Skidoo for a trip to yahk.
Trip to Yahk for a cube van.
Cube van for a recording contract.
Recording contract for one year rent free in Pheonix.

And the offers keep pouring in. Go check out where he is at now.

This is so crazy it just might work.

Scarred for life?

The boy found my sisters stash in the closet. He comes out of my bedroom holding a can of whipped cream and sprinkles, clearly marked 'body desert topping'.

Remembering the fun I had with the condom wrapper, I was ready for him.

"What the hell is this?"

"What does it look like?"

"Why do YOU have it?"

"Well, if you really want to know..."

He drops it and runs from the room with his hands over his ears.

Could have been worse, he could have found an empty can.

His therapy bill is going to be astronomical. Money well spent.

Hello? Is this thing on?

The boy's father (TB'sF)called me Wednesday as I was pulling into the school to pick up the boy.

"Hello?" Nothing.

"Ya, what size are the boys feet?" No, hello, no nothing, just straight to the feet.

"Um... if this is some sort of pedophile with a foot fetish I'm gonna have to hang up."

"Funny, what size are the boys feet?" He is getting irritated and I am enjoying it.

"Oh, TB'sF. Hi and how are you?"

"Are you going to tell me what size boys feet are?"

"I am fine thanks for asking.....and I don't know. Why don't you wait the three minutes it takes for the boy to get out of school and ask him yourself?"

"Call me back."

It is always fun chatting with the boy's father, he starts conversations with stuff like "Ya, you should feed the boy carrots." No explanation or hello, just "The boy should brush his teeth at night?" The boy was twelve by the time TB'sF came up with that little pearl of wisdom.

It takes a second for you to realize it is TB'sF, but then you think no one else is retarded enough to start a conversation that way.

Anyway, the boy gets in the car and I hand him the phone. "Guess your getting sneakers for Easter. Surprise!"

This is the boys entire side of the conversation:

"Hey."

"Eight."

"K"

He gets that from his fathers side of the family.

We are half way home and he says, "Hope he doesn't get me the same ones he got me last year, they sucked."

"Did you tell him you didn't like those ones?"

"No." Of course not, that would make sense.

"Then your getting the same ones."

"Aw man."

"Well why didn't you tell him you didn't like the last ones?"

"I can't tell Dad when I don't like things."

"Really, you have no problem turning your nose up at anything I buy you."

Then he looks at me, all serious like, "But Mom, you and I have a different sort of relationship."

"Ya, I spend all my money on you and you shit on me. Works out great."

He'll be sorry when I am dead.

Better late than never.

I saw this somewhere, sorry can't remember where. I thought it was a fun idea, but I couldn't (until now) figure out how to put the stupid media player on shuffle.

Brain fart. But I did manage to link to the lyrics, so there.

So here goes. First the obligatory instructions. Give it a shot if you are a smart ass and already know how to put MP on shuffle.

Go to the music player of your choice and put it on shuffle. Say the following questions aloud and press play. Use the song titles as your answers. NO CHEATING!

1 - How does the world see me?
Song: Going out of my mind.
Artist: McBride and the Ride.
Ok, I do have to consciously work on my mental health. I know this about myself.

2 - Will I have a happy life?
Song: Homewrecker
Artist: Gretchen Wilson
Interesting. Gay Robbie (not to be confused with Rob the Slob) asked me the other night, "Do you have a husband?" I said, "Ya, sure. He's just not mine." Long story.

3 - What do my friends really think of me?
Song: I love this bar
Artist: Toby Keith
I don't do bars, but I guess I get pretty set in my ways. I complain about the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™, but I guess you could call it my bar. It is where I do most of my socializing.

4 - Do people secretly lust after me?
Song: Cheatin'
Artist: Sara Evans
Great, just married men. Nice.

5 - How can I make myself happy?
Song: Crazy
Artist: Aerosmith
So, does this mean I shouldn't try so hard to maintain my mental health?

6 - What should I do with my life?
Song: Bohemian Rhapsody
Artist: Queen
"Easy come easy go...anyway the wind blows doesn't really matter to me." One of those pigeons shits on my head and I might be saying, "Momma, just killed a man." Inside joke.

7 - Why should life be full of so much pain?
Song: Paint me a Birmingham
Artist: Tracey Lawrence
Life is pain, get over it.

8 - How can I maximize my pleasure during sex?
Song: Rose Colored Glasses
Artist: John Conlee
What the hell does that mean? This is just getting weird. But I guess that is your answer.......to maximize your pleasure....pretend your with someone else. Ya, someone better.

9 - Will I ever have children?
Song: I'm Gonna Miss Her.
Artist: Brad Paisley
Another weird one, I have one, only because I don't want two. So I guess I will never have 'children' plural. It could mean, that no, I will not have children. Since Aunt Flo has left the building, but I don't miss her.

10 - Will I die happy?
Song: Better Things to Do
Artist: Terry Clark
Who the hell dies happy. Shouldn't the fact that you are dead piss you off? I got better things to do than worry about being happy when I am dead.

11 - What is some good advice for me?
Song: Starry Starry Night
Artist: Josh Groban
Don't cut your ear off for a chick. Very good advice.

12 - What is happiness?
Song: Millie and Billie
Artist: Alice Cooper
I have often thought. Had I just killed the boys father when I wanted to, I would be out of prison by now. Karla Holmoka only got 12 years.

13 - What is my favorite fetish?
Song: Get off of my Cloud
Artist: Rolling Stones
Ah, drugs. Always a good fetish to have. What the fuck is a fetish anyway?

14 - How will I be remembered?
Song: I See it Now
Artist: Tracey Lawrence
When the boy was little, this was our song. So maybe, after I am worm meat, he will hear the song and remember me.

I know what your thinking, "What is up with that fuckin' playlist?" Hey, there is a theme. I think? Is there?

Why not give it a hook yourself. Let me know how it turns out.

What was he thinking?

Chris Daughtry, contestant on American Idol. He is a rocker, the rocker, even when he is singing Manilow.

So I figure when he got the songbook for Queen, he creamed in his jeans. This is it baby, it's all you, these are your people.

So, what does he do? Loses his fucking mind, that's what. He decides to sing Innuendo.

Innu-fuckin-endo!

What? You have never heard of it? Maybe because Queen has never performed it live.

Why hasn't Queen ever performed this song live?

Because the song sucks out loud!

What the fuck is wrong with this kid?

It's Queen.

Say it with me, IT'S QUEEN!

Dozens of really great songs, and you pick Innuendo? You could have wrapped this shit up!

They need to send your ass home, just for being a fucking retard!

I am upset, does it show?

Fuck the meaning of life. I want to know...

How come soda in cans never goes flat?

Ugly Americans!

Since all the trouble in India, the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™ has been swamped with some people waiting half an hour on hold just to talk to a customer service agent.

Last night, the TM asked if we (the tech routers) would mind helping the CC agents close the queue. A simple enough thing to do, no cases, no transfers just let them know that we are now closed.

I sign in. 44 people on hold and 4 agents, counting me. Round 'em up and ship 'em out.

"Thank you for calling the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™ my name is blah blah blah..."

He starts out, clearly peturbed. "I was just on hold for 20 min and they hung up on me. I have a case already."

"I am sorry sir, but technical support is now closed, what time zone are you in?"

"What?"

"You will have to call back in the morning, what time zone are you in."

I hear him relay this to his wife/girlfriend banshee, "WHAT THE HELL? Give me that fucking phone!"

The banshee takes the phone, "Listen here, we have been waiting for 20 min, then we get hung up on. I have paid my money I want support! You will transfer me right fucking now!"

I try to explain to her that there is nothing I can do, once the tech queue is closed I can't transfer. If I try she would only get bounced through customer service again.

"THIS IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS!"

She puts the man back on the phone. "I paid money for support and I am not getting it, what kind of a sham are you people running?"

I love it when they say 'you people', "Well sir, our sister site in India is down due to civil unrest so we are working with only 20% staff. We are doing the best we can."

"Fine, I don't want to go to India anyway, give me an American." He has Win98 there is nowhere to go but India. I explain that it is impossible, the queues are closed.

I offer to refund his money and as I am doing that, I am filling air by trying to explain to him why the last couple of days has been so busy. You know, chatting. Big mistake.

"You closed down a whole fucking country? Did the donkey die?"

"Ah sir, a beloved national figure passed away and they are in mourning."

"I don't give a fuck, that's your fault for outsourcing!"

< CLICK >

Ooops! Did I do that?

I realize that the rest of the free world finds this ridiculous and from a distance I suppose it is. But when someone tells you that someone else is dead the correct response is not 'I don't give a fuck'.

They call them 'ugly Americans' for a reason.

Butterfly Effect.

The Undisclosed Customer Service Center™™ is being swamped with calls. The Big Giant Head has sent a memo. The primary site is experiencing 'civil unrest'. (the BGH often sends out cryptic messages, not realizing that we are perfectly capable of finding out what the hell he is talking about)

Good Lord! Concerned faces everywhere, whatever could it be?

"Using loudspeakers, they appealed to people to maintain peace and shut down commercial and other establishments."

"The city police were forced to make elaborate arrangements to maintain law and order ..."

For a second there I thought it might be something stupid, like, earthquakes, tsunami or, I don't know, war.

I get it. You loved him. But do you have to shut down the entire city?

Say 'elo to ma li'l friend.

Thanks to Radmilla, I am now addicted to pastries.

Go ahead and poke him, you know you want to.

Bon Voyage, Judith.

I get up this morning. (ok, it was more like noon) I figured I would give them the benefit of the doubt and assume someone took care of our scheduling problem.

Ya, right. What the hell was I thinking?

So, I go to work on any TM that is on messenger. Bitching and moaning, trying to kick start someone. Here is a conversation with one of the TM's.

ME: did anyone try and get someone else to work tonight?
TM: else?
TM: what is the problem
ME: its just me and Judith scheduled
ME: oh, and Brian
TM: brian and marc
ME: really? would that be the same brian who has been in the hospital for the past month
TM: lol
ME: wait a minute....mark who?
ME: oh, you mean the other person who has been off sick for the past month?
ME: and its judiths last night, so that leaves just me next weekend? anyone doing ANYTHING about that?
TM: i'll look into to
TM: but there were only 3 scheduled for tonight to begin with
TM: jennifer is on, she can take calls with you (she is another TM)
ME: has jennifer ever taken a call before? are there any pro's on tonight?
TM: nope
TM: none
TM: all day
TM: just in india
ME: do they really wonder why morale is low?
ME: does this not seem wrong to you in any way? or is it just because it is me saying it?
ME: is anyone going to do anything before next week when it is JUST me?
ME: I will tell you what.......if it is not fixed next week, and you think it's going to be JUST me? I WILL be sick. I feel a fever coming on right now.

I think the vision of having to call in TM's to strap on their fucking headsets to take calls has inspired him.

"I will see what I can do." Much better than 'I'll look into it.'

Well, when I got in there, TM was there to greet me.

Expecting the worst, I ask, "So, how did you make out?"

"The two guys in workforce management have been fired."

Holy shit! He is good. Wait a min...he's not that good."Really?"

"No, not really. But I did get one person to come in tonight and I am working on a couple more." He is very proud of himself for making a funny.

Great, now I can go have my coffee and not worry. As I leave, I throw this over my shoulder. "I know you can do it, TM, I have faith in you."

"You do?" He is stunned.

I can't maintain the sincerity, "Uh, ya. Whatever gets 'er done."

And he did come through. With two people. So Judith and I were not swamped all night. We actually had a pretty good night. As TM left for the evening he came over for his pat on the head.

"I have to say, TM, that I am actually impressed. I appreciate what you did. Good job."

"Your being sarcastic."

"No, I am genuinely impressed. You were not the only TM that I harassed today, but you are the only one who got off their ass and did something. I appreciate it."

And I meant it.

So, Judith and I finally get out of there and as we are leaving, one of the TM's says, "Good luck, Judith, hope to see you back here again."

I couldn't resist a reply, in my best tortured voice, "OH,MY GAWD! How could you say such a thing to her? Why don't you just kick her dog on the way out!"

Thank you, I am here all week. Tip your waitress.

A fine farewell.

So, we are all sitting around last night at the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™, saying goodbye to Judith, who is moving back home to England. She and I will be working Saturday night, but for the others in our regular group, it is their last chance.

As is customary on Friday night, we ask who will be working on Saturday. Here's where the kick in the teeth comes from. Not one person replies.

It can't be just Judith and I holding down the entire fort, can it? That's a fine send off, not to mention how much that would piss me off. And, after all, it is all about me. But this time, its about Judith as well.

I immediately track down a TM. "Let me check for you. Hmmmm, let's see.......You, Judith and Brian."

"Uh, Brian?" I am trying to jog her memory and make her realize how bazaar that sounds.

"Ya, the three of you." Giving me that 'see, it's not so bad' look.

"Bri - an?" Trying again ... nothing. "The same Brian who has been in the hospital for the past month? That Brian?"

"Oh!" LIGHT BULB! But she still gives me a blank look. She is not moving. Why isn't she moving? In my world, people should be on the horn, rectifying this situation immediately. There are people to call, people to email, things need to be done.

She is still not moving. "Uh, are you going to do something?" Still motionless. "Don't you think you need to call someone, email someone, get something done?"

"Like what?" I can see now why I did not get this job. I would completely fuck up the curve. It is so great here, absolutely no one has your back.

"I don't know. Call around, see if anyone is willing to work. Not that they would, but it is worth a try, don't you think?"

"I'll look into it." Translation - it does not effect me so I will push these papers around and look busy while I disregard your predicament.

"Could you look into it before next weekend. When it will be just me?"

I go back and tell Judith the good news.

"Looks like it is just you and me. Aren't you sorry your giving all this up?"

Review of the reviewers.

I was having a discussion with a friend over site traffic. Every once in a while I like to jump out there and see if I can get someone new to visit my site. After much discussion, he suggested I check out I talk too much.

The site offers "a loving review. If you are weak of heart or get upset easily don't bother. " Hey, that's me. So, I submit my site.

This was my review:

Plain template, fugly sidebar (including a FUCKING CLOCK, “local news” and 2, count them, 2 blogrolls), too many little pictures, boring writing and awful grammar (I was skimming and saw the post titled: “Just because your paranoid does not mean people are not out to get you.” and stopped reading. One of my biggest fucking peeves is using “your” when it should be “you’re” - not to be the grammar police but it’s simple fucking rule, learn it, live it.)

Constructive criticism? I don’t think I could help.

I had to chuckle. Finally, took them long enough to get around to me and I agree with everything they say. I was going to put up the 'I Got Smacked' button, but they also have a thing about buttons. I don't want to provoke them any more than my atrocious grammar will.

As per my friends instructions, I commented on their review.

1 - I like simple templates, too much color makes my teeth ache.
2 - The clock as well as the ‘local news’ is for my sister (the technically challanged) in India.
3 - What’s a blogroll and how did I get two of them?
4 - I added the counter last month.
5 - If you ‘live’ the ‘your/you’re’ rule? You need to get out more.
6 - Every single day of a person’s life can not be facinating, I am jealous if your’s is.

But thanks for the imput.

(I throw in a misspelled word or two for good measure. Although I am sure bullet points and the use of 'your’s is' will cause them to faint dead away.)

Immediately, I see more traffic flowing by way of their site. So, all in all, a successful run at I talk too much. You all should try it.

Just in case they swing back around this way, I thought I might add my own review for them, or rather let them know (if they are interested) some things their friends won't tell them.

No one goes to your site for your direction on what's good and what is not out there in cyberspace. (We like what we like. We like to read about people's real lives, boring or not.) Nor do people submit their sites for 'review' because they want your expertise.

Hello, let's face it, judging from the Powerpuff Girls/Cartoon Charlie's Angels template and the obligatory cartoon avatars (which I am sure bares a striking resemblance to your actual person) we don't really expect that any Pulitzer prize winner's are dishing out the advice on your site. (I am sorry, I probably lost them with that run on sentence)

Mainly you talk about color and fonts. Lose 'your' minds over grammar while using words and phrases like 'smushed' and 'all smudged and shit'. You chastise people over how ugly the template is and thankfully you give a person a hope that one of your alternate templates are easier on the stomach. I wonder if you even scan the content? Hardly matters.

People go there for traffic. Plain and simple. There is more traffic generated by your bad reviews than from the good. I, personally, got 35 hits in one day alone. Thanks guys. I am definitely on the hunt for some more 'review' sites.

But hey, you serve your purpose and in the grand scheme of things, that's all anyone can hope for.

Untitled.

I was recently clicking around, reading random blogs. Then the blogs of people that comment on those blogs, seeing where it would take me. I open new tabs in Foxfire for each of the comment-ers to follow up on one by one.

I stumbled on a blog of an actual writer. Not just a blog writer, which everyone is. A real, honest-to-goodness, published on paper, writer.

I thought, great, this should be interesting. What I discovered is, no....it is not.

Writers write about writing.

Think about that for a second.

I can't even think about an analogy for it. There is no other profession in the world to compare it to. A singer only singing songs about singing songs? Barry Manilow sort of did that I guess, but imagine if that song were about singing the song instead of writing it.

So you see the pickle I got myself into. I close the boring 'I have been published once again' post and move on to the blogs of the comment-ers.

You know who comments on writer's blogs? You guessed it, other writers.

But hey, they can't all really write about writing, right? Well, yes they can. I will admit that there was one or two that actually wrote about their lives, but most of them just wrote about writing. And when they are not writing about writing, they are writing about reading about writing on another writer's blog.

My head hurts.

How can people who write books that actually engage and entertain, be so completely boring with their blogs? Maybe because no one is paying to read the blog, so why put anything interesting in it?

Guess you have to buy the book.

100% profit.

Just a little back story. About a year ago my brother's stepson, Bryan,(12) (who lives with him) expressed an interest in learning the guitar. The boy has two electric guitars so I suggested that he borrow one to see if he liked it. Long story short, he didn't do much with it, but my brother's other son, Dylan,(8)(who does not live with him) did. So, off it goes to Dylan's house and he proceeds to take lessons, the whole nine yards.

After a while I hear Dylan is doing very well. I ask if the volume drives my brother crazy. He says why would it, it's an acoustic guitar. WTF? Ok then, where is the boys guitar? Oh, he doesn't use it.

So the boy hears this and immediately wants it back. No problem, my brother will retrieve it. You know men, he forgets every single time he goes to pick up Dylan to ask for the guitar. I figure, never ask a man to do any job you want done right. I put my sister-in-law on it.

Now we are up to present day. My sister has arrived home from India, I call over to see how she is doing and to arrange to meet up tomorrow. My brother is there.

"Tell her I have something to tell her, I just don't know how."

"What the hell does that mean, put him on."

"Hey Sis, remember your favorite nephew?" I have seven nephews.

"Is this a trick? Ok, I pick Dylan."

"It's about the guitar." He is laughing.

"Great he has pulled a Townsend and broken it?"

"Worse." What could be worse?

"Just tell me!"

"He sold it." He is hysterical now. I start to laugh and the boy is not impressed with what he is hearing on my side of the conversation. It is a very expensive guitar.

"What? You can get it back though."

"Ya, you should have seen his face when I asked him for it. He told me he sold to Haley for twenty bucks."

"He is his father's son." My brother is the baby, the spoiled one.

"He said he can't get it back cuz he already spent the money." We are both in tears, laughing.

That boy is going to be one heck of an entrepreneur, or the head of a really lucrative pyramid scam one day.

I think I might be blacklisted.

My cousin, Jean, (who is incidentally Sonny the Geeks sister) is one of those 'keep in touch' kind of people. A week does not go by without an email. Mostly they detail her life, updates on what is going on with her and hers.

Today she sends me pictures of her 'kids'. Not real kids, in the sense that they are not the same species as her, but she considers them family.

I took one look at the pictures and thought, those are some ugly ass dogs. I couldn't possibly describe how ugly these dogs were, but I have to say they are not as ugly as the dog her mother had for 30 years. (ok, it didn't live for 30 years, it just looked like it) Her mother had a really ugly dog, Bowser.

For those of you who are of the age, there was an episode of Bewitched where Darren and Larry are describing a dog to one of their clients (a non-existent dog) and Samantha is in the other room trying to create it.

The client asks, "Long or short hair?" and each of them says the opposite thing and the dog ends up with long hair in the back and short in the front. You get the idea. That was her dog. I kid you not.

Jeans dogs are not 'that' ugly but they run a close second.



Faces only a mother could love.



Before I could stop myself, I was emailing her that those were the ugliest dogs I had ever seen, bar Bowser.

I think I might be off the mailing list.