Posts Tagged ‘wasting time’

enjoy the go.

4 February 2011

dear charmin,

i want to say that i hate your commercials, but i will temper my words and instead tell you that i don’t understand your commercials. i’m at least partially to blame for this hatred, i mean misunderstanding, as i always replace the bears with humans. you are somewhat culpable however.

take, for instance, the football-playing bears commercial, where the coach stands in for the quarterback (due to honey poisoning probably). while i do somewhat admire coach bear’s restraint upon witnessing the infraction — i’m sure that ben roethlisberger would maul poor maurkice pouncey if something similar happened at the super bowl — i must know if leaving pieces of tissue behind was seriously a concern for people before charmin invented flex weave technology?

i cannot stress this enough, it’s extremely important that i find out the answer to that question, for those times when the nearest bathroom isn’t stocking charmin brand products, because i’ve been declining camping invitations, and coming up with increasingly less believable excuses, since viewing the aforementioned commercial. as a result, many of my relationships have ended because girls don’t want to be with a guy who is allergic to every type of woodland vegetation and suffers from tisantaphobia (fear of tents).

obviously being a lonely bachelor is better than facing the ultimate embarrassment when some mother bear lumbers through the forest to lecture me about poor wiping as she claws little white pieces of toilet paper from around my butthole, but i would very much appreciate it if we could clear this mess up for good, right now, as i would one day like to have cubs of my own and need to know if i should look more closely at adoption instead.

thank you,
scott “tissue” lefaive

Advertisements

how grown women conduct themselves.

9 January 2011

i don’t often receive comments on this blog, so it’s a very exciting moment when i do. recently someone who identified herself as grown woman sent me a message, voicing concerns about previous entries, especially in regards to tone and my inability to understand the values of true feminists.

i find it ironic that in your november 23rd posting, you comment on eve ensler turning over in her grave in response to oprah’s using slang terms for genitalia, yet in your very next post, you recap your interaction with the girl who gave you directions in costa rica. unless she was seventeen years old or younger, you didn’t get directions from a girl; you got directions from a woman. in all of your righteous feminist indignation, you can’t even get the most basic of sex-oriented terminology right. you can talk about my va-jay-jay all you want, if you’re also referring to your penis as a cock, dick, etc. the reality is slang terms for genitalia are equally represented regardless of sex: very few people actually articulate penis or vagina. as opposed to the open-minded progressive stance you were attempting to achieve, you instead made a pretentious observation that is more related to america’s reserved standing on sexuality and its expression than to feminism and the oppression of women. if you want to keep eve ensler from turning over in her grave, stop calling grown women girls and start addressing them properly as women. note, you didn’t talk about the boy on the bicycle.

i support feminist ideals and a more open-minded viewpoint on sexuality, but don’t confuse a feminist (i.e. gender-related) issue with a cultural one (i.e. america’s uptight attitude towards sex). there are certainly areas in which they intertwine but saying va-jay-jay in the same breath as cock isn’t one of them.

you wanted to make an in-depth observation of how slang terms marginalize women, then try to evolve it into a saccharine reflection of i hope my daughters don’t grow up in this kind of society. yet all you accomplished was reinforcing the problematic mindset of males growing up to be men, whereas females are destined to be girls — indicative of a lack of maturity, knowledge and experience — forever.

there was so much i wanted to say to her, but figured most of my words would be lost on someone who read a tongue-in-cheek entry about hoping my future daughters didn’t grow up to use the word va-jay-jay and took it as righteous feminist indignation, so my response was considerably pared down.

grown woman,

first, i appreciate you reading two of my posts. there are too few people that are driven to write a vitriolic response. i applaud your passion, regardless of its being misguided and misdirected.

the girl that i mentioned in the above post was between the ages of 15 and 19, but, due to the imprecision of carbon dating, i was not able to correctly judge if she was indeed still a girl or if she were a woman. the man on the bicycle was most definitely a man, unless he was suffering from the same disease as benjamin button. if that were the case, i would judge he was around twelve, and i will update my post accordingly.

a few days after reading your reply, i was talking to a bartender in alajuela about laura chinchilla. he was extolling her virtues, telling me she was cleaning up san jose and the corruption of the police department; that she was making the country better, emphasizing education and bringing forth improvements throughout the country. at some point he said proudly, she is our first president who is a girl.

i would have missed a lot if i had allowed my righteous feminist indignation to take over, concentrating on that one word, pretentiously ignoring everything else that was said. i would have missed the fact that he was depicting someone who did not lack maturity, knowledge, and experience.

in the same way, you’ve missed the point. it’s too bad in a post where i’m celebrating people and writing about how communication exists beyond mere words because we’re all intertwined by being human, you’ve only noticed that i may or may not have used the word girl incorrectly.

the girl i’ve described, as you would have noticed if you had bothered to read the entire paragraph, was wonderfully helpful and knowledgeable. she just happened to be young.

i hope my daughters don’t grow up in the kind of society you inhabit. it seems like a pretty miserable place, where one is so focused on criticizing everything that they miss the beauty.

if anything, lattes should be more expensive.

18 November 2010

a representative from the record label asthmatic kitty responded to the email i recently sent them about the music industry, particularly the prices of albums.

hi scott,

thank you for your thoughtful message and your support for sufjan’s music. i am glad you saw the show in asheville despite ticketmaster’s ‘convenience’ charge. the percentile of the low price sufjan keeps his tickets at, is huge. if you come up with a system to get around using them, please let us know.

the price of asthmatic kitty records’ merchandise has not changed in ten years. however we have no control over the prices charged by the tour. there is no shipping to pay when you buy from the table. thus, on tour, the cd is $3 more.

despite the ambiguous message conveyed in the “latte” letter, asthmatic kitty records did willingly participate in the program that made amazon’s price available.

we sincerely appreciate you taking the time to write.

please forgive us our shortcomings. it must be those lattes.
________________________________________________

dear asthmatic kitty,

allow me to begin by saying that i feel awkward replying to your last message — for even writing to you in the first place — as i take no pleasure in pointing out the faults of entities i respect, but perhaps i have to keep in mind that i can enjoy sufjan’s music and whatever else and still dislike a silly email sent by the music label he founded, without either stance being problematic, in the same way i can list knut hamsun among my favorite writers without feeling his work is maligned or can be overshadowed by his personal life, i.e. his vehement support of nazi germany. sorry, it sounds like i’m comparing you to the extermination of jewish people. i can assure you that’s not my intention.

while i do forgive you for your shortcomings, i am confused by something you wrote in the latest email. you write that on tour, the cd is $3 more than if purchased from your website because fans do not have to pay for shipping to pick it up at the table. on the surface, such a markup makes no sense (and that is before i think about the fact that you do not have to pay for postage to ship it to the fan). it’s possible that i’m missing something here — perhaps the additional charge is justified because of the cost to ship all of this merchandise to each venue on the tour. i would think there is ample room on the van to store this stuff though, unless sufjan’s friends took up all the extra space. if that’s the case, i’d suggest this is one of the many mistakes alluded to in the song i’m referencing, and one that can be easily remedied.

you know as well as i do that the problems with ticketmaster are unsolvable. we are teacups in their ocean, pawns on their chessboard, forgotten vegetables in the crisper of their refrigerator (i’m not still referencing sufjan lyrics, by the way; i made these up on my own).

lastly, don’t beat yourself up over your penchant for overpriced lattes. we all have our vices, and, in the grand scheme of things, that’s probably one of the least damaging ones.

all the best,
asthmatic scotty

fair winds and safe voyages.

8 September 2010

i’ve always been skeptical of cap’n crunch’s claims that oops! all berries were the result of an accident, as if human or mechanical error had resulted in a surplus of artificially-colored and -flavored fruit cereal that left quaker oats scrambling for a way to unload them.

in response to my recent query, a representative from the company was very forthcoming regarding both the truth and the legend behind the origin of their product:

we appreciate the opportunity to let you know more about cap’n crunch’s oops! all berries cereal. I’ll be happy to help.

as the story goes, while the cap’n is on vacation, the kids have been put in charge of his cereal factory. to satisfy their craving for crunch berries, they decide to make what kids have always wanted — a 100 percent crunch berries cereal. even the original package had appeared to have been made by kids. it had cut-and-paste package graphics with hand-lettered-in-crayon words, smudged fingerprints, cellophane tape and scraps of lined yellow writing paper.

but, that was just the story. In reality, we just know that we have a lot of fans that really enjoy the crunch berries. we’re always striving to offer the types of products that can appeal to them, so we introduced oops! all berries in 1997.

we later discontinued oops! all berries. however, based on the feedback we received from our fans over the last few years, we decided to bring it back as a special limited time offer at the beginning of the year. based on the big response we received, we extended the availability. we hope you’ll look for oops! all berries. it will be available nationwide exclusively in wal-mart, target, and meijer stores through the remainder of 2010.

i hope this information is helpful for you, scott. we appreciate your interest in the origins of cap’n crunch’s oops! all berries and hope that you’ll enjoy the cereal.
_____________________________________________

the story is compelling, certainly, but it does make one question cap’n crunch’s stance on child labor.

i no longer trust reptiles.

27 March 2010

once again my auto insurance is expiring, leading me on a quest to find an insurer that can give me a better rate or else stick with the company that is currently overcharging me. you may remember previous correspondences i’ve endured in order to get an acceptable premium. the latest in this series is a message i sent to the geico gecko.

hello geico gecko,

i finally succumbed to your constant reminders by mail, both e- and snail (though, honestly, i hate the term “snail mail” for it’s derisive tone, so please excuse my usage), by getting a new quote from your company. my current auto insurance expires on march 28 — and i had a few extra minutes — so why not? after all, i have been assured countless times over the last few months that i could save money. i assume some people do save money, as how would warren buffett allow you to use the word “could” if you’d never actually saved people any money, but unfortunately i cannot be included in this number. i’ve included the reference number above in the subject line so that you can glance at the rate i was given at your leisure, but for the sake of time and clarity, i will include it here also: $249/month. yes, sir, $249 each month, which is, for purposes of comparison only, at least $130 per month higher than my current insurance. i’d feel remiss if i didn’t add that i also have a rental car allowance with my current insurance. of course, it would be easy to reconcile this huge difference if, say, i had kept the same company (that is, my current one) since my caveman days, and they felt they owed me something for my continued allegiance for sticking with them through the ice ages and industrial revolution and, oh, invention of the automobile, but obviously this is not the case.

i don’t ask for much, my friend. you haven’t done me any real harm, and i’ll always cherish catching you in the backyard as a child, releasing you, and catching you again. all i want in return is for you to be more careful before dialing my number or writing my street or email address. just don’t get my hopes up so much if you’re going to dash them so inconsiderately.

he has yet to respond. the barrage of messages i’ve lately been receiving from his representatives has not abated, but they avoid addressing the above letter.

change i can believe in.

8 February 2009

earlier this week i found jars filled with pennies in my closet. my dad brought me a few more he had been saving. thus, for the past three days, off and on, i’ve sat on the bed, rolling coins. the act doesn’t seem particularly humorous now but if i could make a postcard and send it to myself five years from this date, the sound of laughter would no doubt reverberate off the walls of my mansion. i suppose one has to go to these lengths during a prolonged stay in the unemployment line during an economic downturn. perhaps i should find comfort in the small adjustments i’ve had to make, because while, admittedly, counting pennies isn’t nearly as hip as the alternative (holding a wealthy dowager at gunpoint for the contents of her pocketbook), five years from now i’ll understand it was the wiser decision.

a friend suggested that i speed up the process by depositing the coins in one of those machines that counts money for a small fee, but using such a service doesn’t make as much sense. it wasn’t as if i was in a hurry. after all, when a payment to chase is already two months late, i expect they care less about an additional few days of delinquency than about a check that is twenty bucks short. they weren’t even threatening to cut off my fingers, unless that’s why they’ve been calling fifteen times a day. however, i figure if it were really important, they would leave a message.

last night i slept on this bed, or, more accurately laid awake here, as three quarters of the blanket is overrun with coins. there are currently one hundred eighty-seven dollars worth of pennies and nearly one hundred more in silver sharing my sleeping space. my restlessness, though, was caused by a different concern, that is, i keep picturing myself entering a bank, struggling with a box of money, and having security mistake it for a bomb, reacting by filling me with lead before i can detonate it. i realize the scenario seems farfetched, but we’re living in desperate times, where nothing can be ruled out.

i look forward to the world, five years into the future, when everything will add up. violence won’t disappear, certainly, but fewer people will contemplate the use of force as necessary for their survival. struggle will again become funny.

grape shot.

5 February 2009

when i was young i learned about robert pershing wadlow, the world’s tallest man, eight feet eleven inches when he died at age twenty two. i scanned his height chart — five foot four at age four, six foot two at age eight — finding it highly unlikely i could ever compete. if i were to be listed in the book of world records, i would have to do it for another reason.

i don’t remember when it first occurred to me that catching a grape in my mouth from a long distance would be a worthy goal. the other candidates were either too detrimental to my social life (growing my hair or nails for a few decades) or put my health at risk (staying awake for a few weeks). plus, a friend could participate in the achievement, lessening the intrusion of stardom’s spotlight on my daily life. from researching specifics, however, if i wanted celebrity status in the grape-catching world, i would need to meet someone with a bionic arm.

on his website, paul tavilla provides tips for amateurs. he recommends using california ribier, almost black in color, or chilean red globes because they’re big and heavy and easy to see. from ground level he once caught a grape thrown three hundred twenty-seven feet six inches. herein lies the problem, i’m only moderately concerned about my ability to catch a grape in my mouth from such a distance (after all, i follow paul’s advice, catching with my eyes), but i’m extremely skeptical that anyone i know can launch one farther than a football field, let alone accurately, giving me the chance to catch it. apparently paul is assisted by professional grape thrower, james dedy (one wonders if that provides a decent wage or if he needs a side job).

to date the farthest i’ve caught a thrown grape is approximately fifty feet, my sister tossing one from the top of the driveway to my open mouth at the bottom. there’s always a second or so before both the thrower and catcher realize that there has been success, with the former first raising hands triumphantly, then the latter. i ran to meet my sister at the top of the driveway, beside her parked car, and we celebrated together, then looked around to see if the neighbors were watching.

no small feat.

16 January 2009

i’ll admit that, like many others, i’m much tougher when distance exists between me and my target, though, while it’s also true that i don’t like my odds in a dark alley with a street bully, it’s not cowardice that keeps me out of these battles, it’s the fact that i have a disability, that is, i cannot remain angry for the duration of a fight. at some point, usually early, my preternaturally calm voice or an inserted joke betrays me. thus, i’ve acknowledged that any future bouts will have to take place on the internet where my predilection for amusing myself will never disappoint my nimble fingers.

case in point, i received a friend request from toejam mcfly (likely not her real name), a young female from georgia who seeks payment from the well-heeled in exchange for her detritus. the list of her wares is extensive, among them, toenail clippings, stained underwear, and used razors, and impressive. what compelled me to reply was part jealousy of her entrepreneurial spirit (as a girl of her age, my only concern was whether i was going to wear a solid-colored or patterned skirt to school) and part avoiding doing anything productive (you could say that that is my achilles).

i’ve been called many things but lumped into a group as an internet pervert is a new one. i hope you get a lot of responses though, as judging from your pictures, the possibility of you having any meaningful, lasting relationships away from the computer is pretty distant.

now, before printing the rest of our correspondence, i should warn you that she has the vocabulary of someone who would sell bloody tampons on the internet.

wow, you are a complete douche-bag and you take yourself way too seriously. did I ever write you? no, i didn’t. i haven’t communicated with you at all. you really shouldn’t think so highly of yourself. you are retarded.

p.s. my last relationship went on three years until I broke it off.
you are retarded.

the next message was blocked on account of her making her profile private, but after confirming her initial friend request, everything was again fine.

you sent me a friend request, which i would argue is a form of communication (after all, i would have never stumbled across your page otherwise). i would also argue that you can’t legitimately say i take myself seriously when i’m willing to write a person whose sobriquet is toejam mcfly (you may want to look up the terms ‘boredom’ and ‘satire’ to understand why i took the time to write you). however, i do apologize that my comments hit a little too close to home. there’s no shame though, really, in meeting people online. in fact, i originally met many of my good friends on the internet. in your shoes maybe i would have called me a ‘douchebag’ also (it’s a good term, i’ll admit), but ‘retarded’ is such an offensive and ignorant-sounding word when used derisively — and you’ve used it twice, as you’ll notice.

p.s. like you, i’m very proud of all my long-lasting failed relationships. without a doubt the ones i gloat the most about are the ones that continued for three years before i realized that they weren’t working. ah, it’s so nice that we have those commonalities.

i then thanked her for providing fodder for my blog because it had been a slow news day.

dear mongoloid faggot,

my mass friend requests have absolutely nothing to do with you. i do not give a fuck who you are or what you are into (harrassment of 20 year old girls seems to be at the top of the list, very mature, but trying to have some sort of intellect competition with me will accomplish nothing.

as i said before, you are retarded.

it was no small feat to combat mongoloid faggot, but i did the best i could, toeing the line between getting the point across and being overwhelmingly sarcastic.

how does the mass friend request have nothing to do with me when i received one of those requests? obviously that has a little something to do with me.

i don’t engage in competitions with people who are unarmed. there’s no challenge.

i’ll leave you alone now. enjoy peeing in your underwear and shipping it to internet perverts for money. i hope your (parents’) house doesn’t have mirrors, because in your shoes i wouldn’t be able to look at myself after that. anything for an education, though, right?

this morning i found a pen in my car advertising the springfield sexual addiction center, who guarantees rehabilitation from perv to perfect in as little as ten days. further, their counselors are responsible for curbing your enthusiasm since 1998. the pen, i figured, was another salvo from toejam mcfly, and became convinced when i discovered the company was fictitious. so the ball is again in my court; my foot soldiers in hiding, bound by a vow of silence until the time is right to attack the girl that has become their arch-enemy.

letters from a nut.

16 September 2008

something you should know about me: i do a lot of trial runs for things that do not require them. i’d like to always chalk this time wasting up to research but oftentimes it’s just plain boredom. for instance, i recently sought quotes on auto insurance. it’s true that my coverage does end on 28 september, but i really had no intention of accepting any of the bids. if we can use history as an indicator (and i assure you we can), sometime late on the 27th i’ll find an acceptable quote and buy it then, without looking back at the previous offers.

something else you should know about me: i write messages to corporations where the only goal is to amuse myself with some sort of witty wordplay or reference. again, the undertaking is more a time waster than anything else, as a need for response, if there is one (and i’ve actually had good luck), isn’t the impetus. maybe i can try to see it as a motivational tool, where companies have hired me to send a funny little email to their employees, something to lighten the mood and pierce the monotony of an eight-hour day spent sitting at a desk. though, it can be argued, after the employee has just worked for two hours on an auto insurance quote i’m not only intending to disregard for the most part but for which i’m also going to pick apart and ridicule them by email, it most likely becomes one of those humorous-in-retrospect things.

within minutes of completing the questionnaire regarding auto insurance, i received two quotes. an hour later i received word that state farm was preparing something for me. slightly over an hour after that, someone else wrote me from state farm to let me know i’d receive a quote from them momentarily. they were confident they could exceed [my] expectations. i had to wait another forty minutes for the quote. my response follows:

thank you for taking the time to send me a quote for my auto insurance. i’ve thus far received two other quotes from competing companies — one was slightly more than half state farm’s quote, one was slightly less. in your attached quote, you did offer me a rental car in case my car is in the shop due to collision or accident. as someone who was without their vehicle for a month while it was being repaired, i understand the value of such an amenity, but I’d be remiss if i didn’t add that i still don’t think it justifies an extra $500 on my six-month premium. i do appreciate your hard work (you’ve definitely been there for me in my time of auto insurance need, much like a good neighbor), but i think i’ll have to look at other options.

she later told me that she appreciated the feedback and to keep in touch in case i wanted to check rates again.

the next day i got an email from allstate with a quote that was somehow even higher than state farm’s. again, i wrote:

i appreciate you taking the time to prepare an auto insurance quote for me. that being said, your estimate is almost 60% higher than two of the other quotes i’ve received. it’s debatable whether my wallet would be in good hands with allstate.


%d bloggers like this: