Tuesday, July 1, 2008
What kind of blog is this???
Ok, so back in May, I wrote an article about Larry the Cable Guy. You can find it here if you haven't read it before.
I hate Larry the Cable Guy, but I love David Cross. Why?
Because of this.
Talk amongst yourselves.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
“And we’re back at the 2007 World Series of Poker, where people just sit around and don’t do shit for fifteen hours a day.”
Oh man, do I hate poker. I hate all forms of it. This is a game (not a sport) for which I have absolutely no patience. Poker is boring, the people that play it are all huge nerds, and I don’t understand why people find it interesting.
Texas Hold ‘Em is stupid. Internet Poker is stupid. Websites about poker are stupid. The “turn,” “flop,” “river,” and “nuts” are stupid, and if you know what those mean, you are probably a gigantic dork.
Professional poker is stupid. I remember when ESPN started playing the World Series of Poker on weekday nights in the summer back when I was in college. It was kind of interesting, for about ten minutes! You basically have a group of degenerates who have no lives but to sit around and try to make money on cards. They’ve forsaken their careers (if they ever had one), their health (you try to sit around in a smoky card room and sip on a Mountain Dew for over 12 hours a day), and most importantly, their dignity. And for what? Take this asshole for example:
This guy used to be a successful patent lawyer. He probably used to not be such a fatass, too. Worst offense by far though is the glasses. Can ANYONE TAKE A GUY SERIOUSLY WHEN HE’S WEARING SHIT LIKE THAT? It’s like watching ultimate players in skirts; anything positive they might be doing gets ignored because they look like idiots.
I can get over all of that stuff though. The thing that really gets my goat is hearing a poker player recount a certain good or bad hand, like I give a shit. Blah, blah, blah. NO ONE CARES - IT’S A GAME OF CARDS! Share things with the world if you’ve made an amazing discovery or cured some disease, or if you write a sweet blog about stuff you hate... Just please don’t bother me with a story about the order of some little pieces of paper and how it changed your shitty life. I don’t care and I never will. Your story makes you sound like a douche bag. I’ve heard too many of them, and they all go like this:
“Hey… hey! My poker game was so sweet last night! So I’m sitting at the (casino poker table / frat house / computer by myself at ), playing a sweet (no-limit / limit / penny) game of (
“Dudebro, you won’t believe what happens next! I had (a pair of kings / absolutely no cards at all / a chub from watching “2 Girls 1 Cup”). So I (went all in / re-raised and then called / watched it again). Fortunately, this (hot chick / clueless schmuck in high school / guy “BlzDeep69er”) went ahead and (called / folded / asked me what I was wearing). Can you believe it?? They actually (called / folded / asked me to meet for “drinks”) in that situation!! So here comes the last card, and I need ( a queen / a miracle / some more lotion), and by golly I (get it / don’t get it / made a mess on my keyboard)!!! How cool am I?”
Son, you are not cool. Poker is not cool, nor are the people that play it. It is, at best, nerdy, and at worst, going to make you look like this:
I bet no one wants to go “all-in” with this guy, hey-oooooo!
Monday, June 23, 2008
So, Starbucks is supposed to be good for one thing, right? Drinks, particularly of the coffee variety. So you think they would have figured out by now that their coffee cups absolutely stink to holy hell and can singlehandedly ruin a morning, afternoon or entire day.
If your specialty is coffee, can it really be so hard to design a freakin' coffee cup that doesn't drip around the rim and ruin whatever shirt/pants you're wearing that day? Coffee stains and the persistent smell of coffee on your clothes are obnoxious. Yet every day it's a crapshoot about whether or not little drops of coffee will decide to sneak out of the recycled-paper cup and into the plastic Solo rim. Once the drip path has been created, there is no way to stem it, either. That cup of coffee will continue to drip all over the recycled-paper sleeve, your hand, and probably your cup holder and clothes with reckless abandon. Your day is ruined.
If your cup decides not to do the drippy thing, however, it still has other ways to get you. Most notably is the inane hole in the top of the cup (that's not where you drink out of) that is guaranteed to allow drops of coffee to come spurting out the top, probably scalding your hands but also resting around the upper rim of the cup for the duration of your coffee experience. It seems to serve no functional purpose, unless that functional purpose is to burn my hand and piss me off.
On the other hand (haha), Starbucks' competitiors in the coffee business, namely Dunkin Donuts and McDonalds, have brilliantly designed cups that include just one opening on the top (for sipping, obviously), and a sturdy, resealable flippy lid to prevent spillage (especially in cars). These cups are strokes of genius and guarantee a positive coffee-going experience, especially if that experience is supplemented by an Egg McMuffin with Sausage. Drool...
To the Starbucks executive out there who spilled coffee on his/her clothes today as a result of the drippy cup, maybe you should check out that persistent stain on your pants as a subtle reminder of your company's lack of understanding of a basic concept. Oh, and your breakfast items suck as badly as your stock price. Bam!!!
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Notice that I don't hate IPASS. The idea of cruising right through the fast lane without pausing to frantically scramble for change is awesome. I love that I don't have to pay for every other out of town driver clogging up the lanes and causing pot holes. But someone seriously didn't think the IPASS through. Last November (four months into my marital bliss), I get a ticket for $1,500 from IPASS with a picture of my car: there was no mistaking my "official harp transport vehicle" bumper sticker. Freaking out aside, I calmly called the IPASS hotline thinking "what did I do? Did I hit a construction worker or something?!" FORTY-FIVE minutes later (FORTY-FIVE minutes of that sickeningly sweet voice announcing that I could take care of paying fines online when I really didn't want to pay $1500 online without knowing what I did first). I was finally able to talk to someone. They explained that someone had been using my car and driving through a lot of tolls. This was a joke right? I had clearly driven my car every day since the honeymoon... I explained that that could not be the case. I finally realized with the person on the phone that even though I had remembered to change my license and address and car registration and car insurance, and passport, and harp insurance, and student loans, and bank accounts, and business cards, and (you get the picture), I had forgotten to change the name on my IPASS to my new married name and they charged me a fine every time I went through. Alright. My mistake. They reversed the fines and all was well. This sounds like no reason to hate right?
May 6th, 2008: My mother calls me absolutely infuriated. It is her birthday. Shit. What did I do? She informed me that she had received a ticket for $3,200 from IPASS!! (complete with official harp transport vehicle bumper sticker). I tell her about my previous IPASS situation and all is patched. She later calls... all is not patched.
After holding for two hours, the man on the phone told her that even though the ticket was in her name, he could not take care of anything because the IPASS is now in my name and he needs both of us. She reminds him that when the "offences were committed," (IN 2006-2007, two years ago!), the car was in her name. Apparently that doesn't matter. So, I spent ANOTHER TWO HOURS on the phone with my mother and my husband and my father on mother's day when we were all together trying to take care of the stupidest thing I had ever heard of. Would anyone really be dumb enough to try to get away with driving through the IPASS lane for two years and think that they wouldn't get ticketed? And why did it take them two years to wrack up all of my tolls and then decide my IPASS wasn't valid? (It was valid and it was linked to my credit card for replenishment). For two years worth of tolls, the phone representative had to confirm each one and then get his supervisor to sign off on it. There has to be a better way!! If I was as rich as Dees, I probably would have just given them the $3200 in frustration.
While on the phone for two hours, my family got to know "Mike" the customer representative who helped us with IPASS. We learned all about the private company of IPASS (and you thought the money went primarily toward the roads.. HA! have you seen those pot holes? and why isn't the construction going to get finished this year??) We learned that Mike loves his job because he "doesn't have to do anything." Those were his words!!!! IPASS, seriously you need to get some people who do something besides waste my time and send out the most threatening, heart-stopping tickets. I won't be surprised if I get another $8000 ticket because my tolls were paid for Karen Jansen, and Janelle Jansen, and Janelle Jansen Lake, but not for Janelle Lake. Father's Day is coming up, perhaps this year, our family can get to know another IPASS representative.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Right then and there, the Bears should have gotten out. Less than four years later, Cedric Benson is a former Bear. Do I hate that? No, I don't hate it, I love it. I hate that I had to cheer for Benson for the past three years, and all he did was disappoint the organization, his teammates, and Bears fans.
Benson held out for the entire 2005 training camp in an all-too-common rookie contract dispute. Once he starting playing, he had no idea how to pass block and was quite ineffective his rookie year. While other top running backs like Ronnie Brown and Cadillac Williams were performing for their teams, Benson was sulking behind Thomas Jones and his season ended prematurely due to an MCL sprain.
2006-07 was a much better year for #32 as well as the entire Bears franchise. The Monsters of the Midway rode on the back of a dominant defense and strong dual-attack running game to make it all the way to the Super Bowl. Benson actually played somewhat decently during this season. In penultimate contest, however, Ced got lit up on his first carry, fumbled the ball away and did not return to the game due to a phantom leg injury. The Indianapolis Colts claimed the Super Bowl title, leaving Bears fans to wonder what could've been.
So getting to the Super Bowl is a pretty nice accomplishment for an organization and a second year running back. Being the prima donna that he is though, this was not enough for Ced. The Bears decided to trade their workhorse back, Thomas Jones, to the New York Jets and give the highly drafted, expensive, and unproven Benson the starting running back position. Benson started the season by leaving a pre-season game early, pissing off all the vets. He then got hurt and was ineffective, losing his starting spot to Adrian Peterson (the journeyman from Georgia Southern, not Purple Jesus).
After the season, Benson got arrested twice in five weeks for alcohol related crimes. First he gets a BUI, then a DUI, both in Austin. You're a million-dollar athlete and you can't even find someone to drive your boat or limo?
Today, June 9, the Bears finally cut Benson's ass to the curb after three tumultuous seasons. The running back cupboard is pretty bare too, with Garrett "Mini-Me" Wolfe, AP, and rookie Matt Forte as the few guys left. Here's hoping Forte is nasty. At the very least, Cedric Benson is someone else's problem now.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
My brother works in customer service, actually, and he's pretty good at it. But that's probably because he ACTUALLY HELPS PEOPLE. I spent over an hour on the phone with Sprint today, and talked to three different people in various "departments" before they could tell me that they couldn't, in fact, help me over the phone. This seems like something that should have occurred to any one of these three people at some point during an excruciatingly long conversation, but no, it didn't. So then I went to the store, where the Sprint employee "helping" me called, I presume, the same moronic employees, and this time, was able to tell me they couldn't help me within 30 minutes. So at least that's an improvement.
Perhaps more unnerving though than the fact none of the three people on the phone, the one being consulted by the third, the guy at the store, the person HE was on the phone with, or the other 7 people working at the store doing nothing -- a total of 13 useless employees -- could help me switch my current phone number to another phone, was the series of inane questions they asked me. No, I don't know how long my new boss of 2 weeks has had this cell phone plan, we don't tend to chat about things like that. And no, oddly, I don't know the password my dad set up seven years ago when he bought my brother and I our first cell phone to keep in the car. Fine, ask these ridiculous questions, as long as they don't get too personal, I don't really care. But what bothers me is that when I said "I don't know" to every irrelevant question I was asked, it wasn't a deal breaker! It wasn't, oh, sorry, then we can't help you. The fact that I couldn't answer these questions DIDN'T SEEM TO MATTER AT ALL. Maybe that computer screen in front of you, useless Sprint employee #5, says: "If that question didn't get 'em, type a little bit more, then ask a fourth time for the number they're trying to switch! Sucker!"
Unbelievable. I was given a similar run around by US Airways last week, and a Genius Bar employee once showed me how to give my iBook the computer equivalent of the Heimlich maneuver in order to pop its video chip back into place. This is unacceptable. At least the Genius Bar employees know a thing or two about Macs and why worthless iPod version number eleventy billion has mysteriously died again; in the case of every airline I have ever utilized and this new endeavor with Sprint cell phone plans, however, I would settle for an "Only Half Retarded Bar." Then at least I could use my douchebaggy Blackberry that I don't even want. Ugh.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
So Cy, when you posted that article about
Larry the Cable Guy has found his comedic market in A-merr-ica. His shtick works for him. Larry’s not as good as Jeff Foxworthy or even Bill Engvall, but he’s made a name for himself and made some good money off of it. Just because he’s successful doesn’t mean I have to like him. In fact, I hate him, and hence why I’m writing this. Larry’s act is stupid, banal, and unintelligent, and every time I see him on TV it pisses me off. For example:
Christmas Carols that talk about immigrants, "retards," and farts; awesome! I’m not going to get on a high horse about being insulted and whatnot, but come on, that’s just a terrible excuse for comedy. You gotta make fun of "retards" twice??
And then, the worst part is the stupid ass catch phrase. Seriously, “Git-R-Done?” What the fuck does that even mean? Are you cooking a steak? Cleaning all those old tires from your front yard? Making sex to your sister? Wait, you’re not doing any of those, you’re telling a joke! Worse off, when your joke is not funny, you say something stupid like “Git-R-Done” to make people laugh. And then they do! Is every single person in every one of your audiences drunk?
At least Larry’s fellow Blue Collar cronies Foxworthy and Engvall have a point to their stupid catch phrases, “…You might be a redneck” and “Here’s your sign.” Those are almost as trite, but at least they have a point, like “If you get your nipple bitten off by a beaver, you might be a redneck.” “Git-r-done” has absolutely no point, except people laugh at how stupid Larry sounds when he says it. What does that translate to in English, “It is completed?”
You know what makes me hit the hater-ade even harder? Larry the Cable Guy is not even a real redneck! He spent most of his teenage years in
Wow, Dan Whitney is not funny. Neither is Larry the Cable Guy. You fake being a redneck, make fun of defenseless minorities in front of an audience of red state NRA-ers, and sling around three syllables that make you sound even more uneducated than the people you mock. Larry, you suck, you are not funny at all, and I hate you.