Turnabout Is Fair Play, right?

Since it’s apparently perfectly okay for a complete stranger to say to me:

“You’re so skinny! Don’t you eat?”

Then it stands to reason that must be acceptable for me to respond:

“You’re so fat! Do you ever stop eating?”

I think I’ll try that out. I’ll let you all know how it goes.

Hilariously Bad Spam

Like anyone with an email address, I get my fair share of spam. Most of it is simply annoying but every now and then I get a gem like this, brilliant in its awkward absurdity:

Attn;My Dear,

This is to bring you notice that i have register your ATM VISA CARD with DHL COURIER .And the card’s value is $1.5 millions united state dollars,so The delivery charges has been paid but i did not pay their official keeping fees since they refused.Reasons for their refusal is because they do not know when you are going to contact them because the keeping fee is $45 dollars per a day.

And i deposited it yesterday 23th June 2010 So that is reason why i did not pay for keeping fee and that is only you are going to pay them,so i want you to contact them urgent to avoid increase of their keeping fee.

Contact Mr. Johnson Udo
DHL DIRECTOR GENERAL
EMAIL:dhlexpress_c@qatar.io
Phone +229-9841-6839

This are the information needed for easy delivery of your CARD.1.YOUR FULL NAME_____,2.YOUR HOME ADDRESS______,3..YOUR PHONE AND CELL NUMBER____,4.A COPY OF YOUR PICTURE____,5.YOUR COUNTRY_____

So as soon as you recieved your card do let me know ok,

Best Regard

Mr.Robert Erickson.

Attn;My Dear,“? “A copy of my picture“? Fabulous!
Why wouldn’t DHL Express’ email domain be “qatar.io”?
Of course I’ll pay the “keeping fee”, I want my $1.5 millions united state dollars!

Seriously, anyone dimwitted enough to fall for something like this deserves whatever misfortune befalls them.

Stupid Taxes

I filed my Federal, State, and School District tax returns months ago (electronically). My City return, though, requires me to fill out an actual paper form which I then must either mail or hand-deliver to the courthouse. It’s all so quaint and 1900’s-ish.

Anyway… today I finally got around to doing my city taxes.
Included with my “city income tax package” was a sheet of instructions on Goldenrod paper. I read one side and at the bottom it said, “Please read both sides! There is important information on the other side.” I read that and at the bottom it said, “Please read both sides! There is important information on the other side.” I read that and at the bottom it said, “Please read both sides! There is important information on the other side.” I read that and…

2 hours later, I gave up and started working on my return.

Et tu FedEx?


FedEx Is F-ing With My Head

Thank goodness the delivery notice telling me “we delivered your package” was affixed directly to my package, or I never would have known.

If they’re going to play these sort of mind-games, they should go all out, check ‘other’, and pencil in “right fucking here.”

Things that go bump in the night

Just as I was falling asleep Saturday I was jolted awake by a loud CRASH. The cat was next to me on the bed (though she made a mad dash for cover) so I knew it wasn’t her. Since there was no one else here, I decided it must have come from the downstairs neighbor. Replaying in my mind what I’d heard, I decided that it sounded like someone dropped a large metal can full of smaller cans, or possibly dishes; probably in the foyer. Satisfied with this explanation, I dozed back off, though I was still contemplating it. Sometime later I awoke again, worried that the noise could have come from my apartment somewhere. Checking for signs of calamity, I made my way to the kitchen. There, sitting in pool of water amid the shattered shards of the cat’s water dish was my old toaster, which apparently fell from its spot on the shelf of the microwave cart.

I’d refilled the cat’s water when I got home, then gone to bed. A short while later I awoke and went to the kitchen for a drink. I noticed that I hadn’t put her water in its usual spot, next to the microwave cart, so I moved it. At no time during this process did I notice the toaster (which hasn’t been moved since I got a new toaster last Christmas) resting precariously.

Here’s the really crazy part. This isn’t the first time it’s happened!! A couple of years ago the toaster dove into, and smashed, Caldonia’s food dish while I slept.

This is obviously the work of a ghost. A ghost with a taste for toast. Or a ghost that doesn’t like my cat. Or an evil mouse. Whatever the fuck it is, I wish it would stop. One thing’s for certain: I’m getting rid of that damned toaster. Then, if need be, I’ll call an exorcist and/or exterminator.

Still here, not eaten by bears (yet)

I feel bad for neglecting the blog. If you feel like you’re missing out on your daily/weekly/monthly allotment of Gregisms, you can catch up with me on Twitter (@gargreguan). Anyway, I just wanted to share my latest brainstorm with you, my adoring public.

I’m going to start an “anti-social networking” site and call it…

HateBook(!) As soon as I figure out a way to monetize the thing I’ll be sitting on easy street.

Shut up! I hate all you melon-fevers!

How hard is it to buy stamps?

In the wee hours of Friday morning, I found myself in need of a stamp. Sadly, the Post Office half a mile from my house mysteriously removed their stamp machines some time ago, so I’ll have to turn elsewhere.

No problem, I think, the US Bank (an account I’ve kept open for no reason other than occasional fee-free ATM usage) is just as close and the ATM sells stamps. And so, off I go. After I go through the dozen or so steps necessary to purchase stamps the ATM informs me that my card has expired and asks if I want another transaction. Another transaction? WTF? No, thank you, just give me back my useless card.

So, I return home to search for the ATM card which I assume came, unnoticed, in the mail. No luck. If the card came, it apparently made its way, unnoticed, into the trash. OK, plan B. I can use the debit card for my primary account, pay a fee to everyone involved, and get my stamps. I return to the ATM, only to discover that neither of the possible PIN’s which come to mind will work so I’m thwarted once more.

Dejected, I turn for home and when I’m almost there I realize Fulmer’s (the very conveniently-located grocery store which I hate and never shop at) is open 24 hours and sells stamps. I turn around, zip over to Fulmer’s (which looks suspiciously dark) and head for the door. As I approach the doors a man inside meets me and indicates that they’re closed, they don’t open until 6. Huh, apparently they are no longer open 24 hours.

So after all of this, I head to the Kroger across town where I normally do my grocery shopping, which I know for certain was still open 24 hours as recently as last week. It is open. Victory is mine! Naturally the only cashier working is taking her break, and naturally, the guy filling in for her is unfamiliar with the stamp selling protocol, but after a few false-starts I finally have my stamps.

I place a stamp on my envelope, drive back across town to the Post Office right by my house (you know, the one where they took out the fucking stamp machines) and drop it in the mail. A mere 2 hours after I started this little adventure, I was safely back at home.

And that, friends, is how hard it is to buy stamps.

I was remiss…

…in mentioning the Tour of California and not saying:
“John Jacob Levi Leipheimer Schmidt”.
I never get tired of that.
Go Levi! Go!

Postscript: Apparently Levi’s website (linked above) hasn’t been updated since November 2008. Hell the first link on the “Links” page is to “Levi’s new team, Discovery Channel”. Also, e-mails to the webmaster bounce, so don’t bother. You would think Levi could afford to keep that shit up to date, but I guess the economy’s bad for everyone.

Stupid Groundhog

So, the groundhog saw his shadow, which supposedly means six more weeks of winter. Bah!
At least the New York groundhog (Chuck) fulfilled a long-time wish of mine and bit someone (not just anyone, New York’s Mayor Bloomburg!)

Remember when I said that I didn’t much care about the snow and ice that was forecast for us? Well, I lied. We got it, it’s still around, and I hate it. But I am still taking some solace in my cheerful little Shamrock’s reemergence.


Shamrock 2009-02-05 (1)