Sunday, August 28, 2011

I want my quarters (fighting the machine).

My apartment complex's laundry room is pretty much awful.  On any given day, three or four washers or dryers will be broken, the change machine will be finicky at best and most likely empty, the whole place smells like the north end of a southbound Mexican immigrant, and it's full of those awful flying abominations that look like giant mosquitos.  I don't know if they actually suck one's blood like mosquitos, but damned if I'm going to let them have the chance.
After a great many heated arguments with the washers/dryers (I lost most of said arguments), I decided it best to give the machines' owners what for.  The exchange was as follows.

Me: 
To Whom It May Concern:
I am writing to request a refund in the amount of $1.25 due to the malfunctioning of your dryer at [my address] (Unit number PFD-886).  Having placed a reasonably small load of laundry into the dryer (perhaps it would have been a larger one were the washers not so godawful small), I inserted my money and returned later to find my clothes slightly warmer and moved around a bit, but still quite wet.  Being that the machine is known as a "dryer" and not a "clothing warmer and reorganizer" I had expected that my clothing would be dry.  The other dryers worked fine.  I have had problems with other dryers before but did not bother to report them, thinking that maybe God just hated me.  Due to my failure to report them I do not expect a refund for past occurrences, but with gas prices currently exceeding tolerable levels, I must ask that I be refunded my $1.25.  Also, I must ask that the money be mailed to me in quarters since the laundry facility's change machine only accepts dollar bills that have been hand-delivered in hermetically sealed cases straight from the U.S. Mint.  I would try ironing my bills to make them acceptable, but I do not own an iron.
Sincerely,

[Me]
Them: [sends check for $1.25]

Me:
To Whom It May Concern:
I recently submitted a refund request due to a faulty dryer in my apartment complex’s laundry area. The text thereof was as follows:
 [original email text]

I subsequently received a check for $1.25, which would be completely acceptable were it not for the indisputable fact that a check for $1.25 is not five United States quarter dollar coins.  With gas prices currently exceeding $3.50 per gallon, it would cost me more than $1.25 to drive to the bank and cash the check. I could walk, but it’s been rather hot outside lately so I would need to stop for a drink at some point, which would most likely cost more than $1.25.  Furthermore, it seems logical that since the dryer stole my money when it was in the form of quarters, it is only fair that the money be returned in the same form. Additionally, since no one can be bothered to refill the change machine in the laundry room, quarters are a rare commodity here nowadays. This makes me less inclined to consider non-quarter refunds to be acceptable. In light of the above, I must again ask that I be sent $1.25 in quarters as previously requested.  Upon receipt of said quarters, I will either A) place the check in a self-addressed stamped envelope (to be included with said quarters) and return it or B) destroy the check, whichever you prefer. If this form of reimbursement cannot be arranged, I’m afraid I will have to renege on my previous promise and demand refunds for past incidents so as to be compensated for the gasoline required to travel to my bank.  Thank you for your prompt response, I am sure this can be resolved soon.

Sincerely,

[Me]
Them:  

          Dear [Me],
We apologize for the inconvenience but it is not normally our policy to send cash.  You will have to talk to our customer service department.  The number is [number].

Sincerely,
Yolanda
Me: [demands larger refund, randomly selecting machines to report as faulty]
Them: [sends refund]
Me: [wins]

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Whoopi Goldberg Soils Herself and There's a Phallus In That Puppet (commercials that make me feel ill)

So let's say you're an actress.  You've won an Oscar, a Tony, a Grammy, and some Golden Globes.  You're filthy stinking rich.  What kind of commercials do you sign on for?  If you're me, the only commercials you run are public service announcements reminding the general populace that you're awesome and they're not and that you've just purchased the country of Honduras for your own personal vacation spot so could everyone living there kindly get the hell out, please?

If you're Whoopi Goldberg, you casually announce that you've been pissing yourself of late.


For those of you who didn't bother watching it, the commercial consists of Whoopi dressed in various outfits discussing her tendency to wet herself.  She then tries to brush it off like it's nothing, saying that one in three women have the same issue.

Ok, so about 2/3 of American women are overweight and 1/3 are peeing themselves... I'm no mathematician but statistically speaking, you're all disgusting.

I can't begin to understand why Ms. Goldberg feels it's necessary to tell us about her bladder problems, but it does explain a strange anomaly on one of her old movie posters:





...And continuing in that vein, here's Jamie Lee Curtis reminding us that women need special yogurt to make them poop:



Those of you with weak stomachs probably didn't watch that, so in summary: two sacks of uterine filth are clucking about their holiday dinners and the younger one declares that she's constipated.  Her mother gleefully responds that she used to be plugged up too until she started eating the magical dairy Drano that Jamie Lee Curtis is hawking.  Is it just me or is Jamie Lee just a little too happy here?  Clearly this is not only gross, but a total sham.  Everyone knows women don't poop.



Moving along.  If this next one doesn't give you nightmares, you're probably Jeffrey Dahmer.

 

Again, a summary: some unsuspecting bloke wakes up to find that the horrible, horrible Burger King mascot is in bed with him.  But it's ok because the King gives him a sandwich.  They hang out and share a laugh and everything's great until their hands touch, most likely reminding them of the brutal sodomy inflicted by the King the night before. 

This commercial is the king of all horrors.  Enough said.



Every now and then, an ad comes along that has even me wondering if maybe living in a Tibetan monastery might be a preferable alternative to viewing any sort of media at all EVER.  This is one such ad.


To paraphrase the text on that ad for those of you who are so profoundly stupid as to not understand why this is so horrifying, there's more inside Doug the puppet than you would expect.  Apparently what's inside Doug is a flesh-colored object that has to be censored.  Yeah.  It's a... you know... well... a... umm... how to put this nicely...

Please don't make me go into more detail.
 The expression on Doug's face just makes it worse.  Is he ashamed?  Is he angry at the mystery man who (and this is why it's so horrible) must have reached his hand into Doug's body and found... that?

Suffice to say, I did not "click to expand for video."

Monday, August 8, 2011

Miller Lite is terrible.

 "Oh, look at this!  He's having a go at the light beers again!"
Yeah, yeah, I know.  As soon as they stop deserving it, I'll stop harping on them.

Have you ever tried Miller Lite? (That's lite, not light, mind you.  G's and H's are heavy.)
If you're scowling right now, the answer is probably yes.


"More taste or less taste?" they ask in their stomach-churning commercials, which employ the ever-so-subtle tactic of implying that if you drink a light beer other than theirs you must be a social pariah. 


Well, the simple answer to that is "Depends on what the taste is."  Let's say you're forced to eat a pile of cow dung.  More taste or less taste?  For the love of Horgh, less!

Miller Lite has "more taste" in the same way a rapist is "more affectionate."

I don't know how a beer that's so watered-down still manages to be so catastrophically awful.  It must have something to do with Satan.

The face of ultimate evil
 
Last time I drank a Miller Lite, my stomach went on strike for two months until I promised it a lobster and some Guiness.

And then there are the "vortex bottle" ads. 


If your beer's greatest appeal is that the bottle is designed to get the beer the hell out of there so you don't have to spend as much time tasting it, you've got a problem.  Might as well claim that it tastes better on the way back up from your stomach than the other beers (note: it doesn't).

In their defense, though, the watered-down taste isn't their fault.  The only reason Miller Lite is so watery is because every time a new batch is brewed IT MAKES GOD CRY.