Thursday, August 30, 2007

Photo Tuesday (on Thursday)

From The Thing of the Moment.

Hint: clicking on the picture advances back an entry. Not all of them are successful, but there's some nice surprises in there.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007


And now for something completely hilarious.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Loyalty is underrated

And it's not just me.

I got a loyalty card in the mail today. From Golf Galaxy. A store I like to visit. It's close. It's full of golf stuff. It's reasonably priced.

I went there the other day to buy golf balls (I tend to lose upwards of six a round, so I was angling for dollar-a-ball or better.) I settled on a box of TopFlites for the well-marked price of 9 bucks and change.

And then the GG dude asks me if I'm a member of their loyalty program.
"No" I said, as flatly as possible. (De ja vu?)
"Why not?"
"Honestly? I hate that shit."
(This is a risk in a golf store. Typically golfers only curse when they've just shanked a three wood into the pond. Under their breath, no less)
"Why should I?"
"To get that price" he says, indicating the giant 9-and-change price, which I suddenly realized had a smaller, bigger price and a fucking asterix next to it.




Sign me up for your 'loyalty' card.
What's wrong with this? Or my recent feel-good post about US Airways? Or the fact that I have to make a show out of flipping through all the tags on my keychain trying to find the correct one for the correct grocery store that day?

Loyalty my ass. Cut out the loyalty crap. If you wanted me to be loyal, you'd invest in a great brand experience. You'd respect my "piss off" countenance when approached about a loyalty card. In short, you'd have a product or service worth loyalty.

This tagging system is like what National Geographic guys track tuna migrations with. I am just another blip on the economic radar. And the only bonuses I see are: slightly less than retail pricing and a shitload of spam for my trouble.

But it seems like insanity to pay the extra four dollars for balls I'm going to shank into a pond. So I fork over my info.

Monday, August 27, 2007

What the hell?

Hell, for me, will be comprised of a special bundle of uncomfortable tediums, poorly prepared food and a tremendous amount of physical pain. At least, that will be my hell on earth. The scorching flesh and anguish of my soul may be a different matter altogether, although not much less bearable.

Allow me to describe the places that remind me of hell.

The humid be-dog-pooped mire that is my backyard, with a full two weeks worth of grass.

The five-block walk from my office to my parking garage at 8:30 PM when the street is still 95 degrees and smells distinctly like alcoholic barf and pee.

Cold french fries and bacon that tastes like bait.

Smooshing my thumb between the Costco cart and 50lbs of dogfood. It's irritating to think that 50 lbs. of dog food translates to roughly 100 lbs of dog poop in my stifling backyard.

Stepping, with my full weight, on a small lego creation. Right in the middle of my arch. In the dark.

The smell of damp air that reminds me I need to have my vents cleaned, which means I need to track down a vent-cleaner, which means I need to employ some contractor to come disappoint me for money.

Any phonecall to a customer service center.

Any phonecall that includes hold music.

Any phonecall that requires me to speak to a manager.

Any phonecall I receive on my cell phone for "Donny", who evidently runs a very successful drywalling business despite the fact that he hasn't updated any realtor in Dallas with his new cell phone number.

Office coffee.

When there's NO office coffee.

Damp socks.