Sunday, March 11, 2012

I Do Not Like This Timeline Shit.

Hey, just in case anyone DIDN'T know, everyone who uses Facebook is going to be forced to adopt their new "Timeline" format shortly. Like all other Facebook changes, this is likely to be followed by mass panic as people attempt to discern how this change will impact their personal privacy...

Do you like
This Timeline shit?

I do not like it
Not one bit.
I do not like
This Timeline shit.

Would you like it
If you had control?

How would I know
If I had control?
Facebook privacy
Is like a big black hole!
Invading your life
Seems like their goal.
I'll bet they watch me
On the toilet bowl...

I do not LIKE
This Timeline shit!
I do not like it,
Not one bit.

How about if they promise
To respect your rights?

They already promise
To respect my rights!
But my doubts about it
Keep me up nights!

I think of the pictures
Where I'm good and lit.
In a couple I'm holding
Someone's tit!
If those got out
I'd have a fit!
Everyone's secrets...
Just think of it!
I do not LIKE
This Timeline shit!
I do not like it,
Not one bit.

Would you like it if
They let you pick?

I would not like it
If they'd let me pick.
I'd suspect it was
Some dirty trick!
Those Facebook people
Are pretty slick.
That "Social Network" movie,
I watched it quick,
And it made Zuckerberg
Look like a dick!

I do not LIKE
This Timeline shit!
I do not like it,
Not one bit.

Would you like to go
To Google Plus?

I wanted to go
To Google Plus.
I made a profile,
It was no fuss.
I just peeked in,
And we must discuss:
Nobody uses that thing!
Not even us!
It's going nowhere,
Like an empty bus!

I do not LIKE
This Timeline shit...
But what am I
To do 'bout it?
Google Plus is empty.
MySpace is poo.
LinkedIn's too stodgy,
For me and you.
I really hate it,
But I'm stuck like glue.
And when they release Timeline,
I'll say "boo-hoo..."
Buy I don't really know
What else to do!

Well here my friend,
Just have a look!
Why not track your friends
With a real address book?
It's made of paper,
Unlike a Kindle or Nook,
And it won't give private info
To some random crook!

That thing's made from trees!
It is no fun!
And if I want to talk
With anyone...
Why, I'd have to CALL!
Forget it, son!
I guess that's it,
This battle's done.
And once again
Facebook has won.

I do not like
This Timeline shit.
But I guess I'll have
To deal with it.

Facebook helps
Me interact.
I can't do it live!
I have no tact!
It makes friendship easy,
And that's a fact.
...At least until
My account gets hacked!

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Epic Retail Sagas, Part II

Yup, here we go again...  Yet another charming story of my old college job working at a discount department store in North Scottsdale.  Like I said in the introduction to my previous poetic tale, a huge portion of the craziest, grossest things I've ever seen in my life went down at this one little store.  I have no way to explain it.  Sometimes I used to wonder if Scottsdale had a full moon every freakin' night.

I used to run the customer service desk at the front of the store, so I would have a bird's-eye view of everything that went down at any of the cash registers.  There was many a day that I witnessed something that made me wish I'd just stayed home.  Tonight's selection is a true account of one such horrifying incident...

Gather 'round, gather 'round,
And I'll tell you a story.
About some messed up shit,
That belongs on Springer or Maury...

You see back in the day,
I worked in a store.
Where people would shoplift,
And shoplift some more.

We were in a nice part of town,
I've never understood,
Why so many shoppers
Were up to no good.

But we'd never get angry,
And we'd never act pained.
Because this plethora of shoplifters
Kept us well entertained!

It was just like a game,
Of skill, luck and wit.
We'd try to catch them
While they stole our shit.

One cashier named Manny,
Was sort of our ace.
He loved to catch people
And get in their face.

He'd spot pilfered items.
He had an eye for switched tags.
And when people bought luggage,
He'd root through those bags.

See, items hidden in luggage
Are tough to see or feel.
And that makes buying luggage
A great way to steal!

Well one day two old ladies
Approached the front of the store
Looking to check out with luggage
And a few items more.

"I'm open here," said Manny,
I'll check you out quick!"
But if he caught them stealing,
He'd act like a dick.

He scanned what they bought,
Opened that luggage up wide,
And he must've seen something,
For he reached up inside...

"Oh gosh ladies, what's this?"
He asked with a smirk,
Obviously preparing
To act like a jerk.

He pulled out his hand
And waved it in the air
Grinning from ear to ear...
Until he saw what was there.

Three used tampons,
Or possibly four.
But my memory is hazy:
There could've been more.

With Manny's hand in the air,
Time seemed to freeze.
Then he realized what had happened
And dropped to his knees.

I knew that I had to do something
And do it right quick
So I handed him the trash can
So he could be sick.

The poor old ladies stood there
In a shocked sort of silence,
Watching Manny engage
In intestinal violence

I looked at their luggage,
Then looked them in the eye,
And asked if the luggage was something
That they still wanted to buy.

One of the old ladies gagged,
When she heard what I said.
They didn't say a word,
And out the door they fled.

I picked up the suitcase
And took it out the back door
While Manny still lay there
Sick on the floor.

Manny went home that afternoon,
I'm surprised he ever came back.
But now when people buy luggage
He cuts them some slack.

If you're wondering how this happened,
Then there's something you should learn.
When there's something that nasty in a store,
It probably came back as a return.

You see, people do gross things
When they take merchandise home.
Then they bring it all back
And what they did isn't known.

I can tell you this is fact,
For I've seen it myself.
There are some nasty, nasty items
That make it back onto the shelf.

It could happen to anyone,
So best open your eyes.
'Lest you be the recipient
Of a suitcase surprise.


*Names have been changed to protect the innocent.  

**For the love of all that is holy, if you know what store I'm talking about don't name it.  They'll probably sue my ass off, and nobody will ever shake hands with "Manny" again for as long as the poor guy lives.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Single Man Survival Guide Part II

As a single, 33 year old guy, I have a veritable black belt in domesticity.  I may not know the proper way to do things, but I know enough to get by in almost any situation.  This knowledge didn't come easy...  I picked it up through hard-won experience in the school of household hard knocks.  Over the years I've left a truly awe-inspiring swath of ruined clothing, jacked up-appliances, and atrocious messes in my path.

Since I try my best to seem like a nice guy, I'd like to spare as many people as possible from the pitfalls of modern domestic science.  Thus I present to you:

Pete's Household Hints

1. The locking handle on the dishwasher is good.  The locking handle on the stove is bad.  

Although they look similar, the handles on these two appliances are vastly different.  The handle on the dishwasher locks it shut, so that you can clean up the aftermath of having run out of paper plates and/or aluminum foil.  The handle on the oven is a whole different story.  Rather than locking it shut for safety, this handle puts your oven into something known as "self clean" mode.  Basically, this means that your oven heats up to a temperature sufficient to atomize any food residue stuck to the inside of it.  While this sounds awesome in theory, I've learned first-hand that self-clean mode will transform a frozen pizza into something suitable for use as a manhole cover.  Beware!  

2.  Soap is both a blessing and a curse: Use with caution!

I'll be the first to admit that soap can be very useful...  But damn it, why can't it just be soap?  Instead, we're forced to endure countless specific soap permutations, such as laundry soap, dish soap, and hand soap.  God help you if you mix two of them up.  Know what's especially asinine?  There are two totally different kinds of dish soap.  There's soap for washing your dishes in the sink, and soap for washing your dishes in the dishwasher...  And, although lord knows logic would seem to dictate otherwise, they are most certainly not interchangeable.  Although, admittedly, it IS a lot of fun to watch the kitchen slowly fill up with soap suds.

3.  Dog poop does not make good fertilizer.

I learned this one at a very young age.  My brother and I had gotten our mom rosebushes for Mother's Day, and wanted them to grow and blossom quickly.  Being grade-schoolers, we lacked the forethought to pick up real fertilizer at the store.  Casting about for a viable substitute, our young eyes settled upon our large, fenced-in dog kennel, which was littered with the fruitful bounty of our two enormous golden retrievers.  We carefully filled a couple of pails with droppings, and dumped them around the roots of our newly-planted rosebushes.  As it turns out, dog poop isn't fertilizer...  In fact, it's more like ANTI-fertilizer.  Within a matter of weeks, those poor rosebushes looked like they'd been microwaved.  No roses bloomed.  Not a single leaf survived.  They looked like bundles of dried, thorny sticks protruding from mom's flowerbed.  Naturally, we tried to revive them with constant watering...  Let's just say that the resulting aroma wasn't exactly "rosy."

4.  Although it kills germs, bleach is NOT a good antiseptic.

Once upon a time, back when I was drinking studying my way through Arizona State University, I fell down the staircase in front of the Hayden Library.  My fellow ASU alumni likely just winced in sympathy.  But for the rest of you, allow me explain:  The main entrance to the Hayden Library is underground.  To get to it, one must walk down a grand, wide concrete staircase that is probably a good 50 feet long.  This is where I took a tumble.  Although I miraculously survived, I tore one of my hands up pretty good.  It was bleeding profusely, there was a small flap of skin hanging loose...  It was superficial, but nasty-looking.  Although I'm normally not the worrisome type, something in the back of my head told me that I had best put something on my wound to prevent infection.  Now I had no iodine nor Neosporin in my dorm room, and all of the alcohol had long since been drunk.  Casting about for anything with germ-killing properties, my eyes came to rest on the bottle of bleach perched upon my counter.  Without really thinking about it, I took the bottle to the sink and doused my torn-up hand.  Never, ever do this.  It hurt like HELL, and small chunks of skin actually dried up and died over the course of the next few days.  To my credit, however, I didn't get an infection!

5.  The "hot" water setting on your washing machine is just for show.

Washing machine manufacturers are real pricks.  How else do you explain the presence of a "hot water" setting on every washing machine ever made?  You see, the first time I ever used a washing machine (I was maybe 19.  Don't judge me: Mom wouldn't let me NEAR the thing at home.  I still can't figure out why...) I wanted to do a good job.  Being a guy, I figured that I'd set everything for maximum cleaning effect.  If one little cup-thingy of soap is good, then three are obviously better, right?  Packing the washing machine full of clothes until the door barely shuts is a sign of efficiency, right?  Best of all, everyone knows that hot water kills germs, right?  Wrong, wrong, and wrong.  I kept my temper in check as I waded through the soapy mess on the floor to empty the washing machine.  I bit my tongue as I gradually broke apart the brick-like lump of tangled clothes that seemed to have bonded to the washing machine.  It was only later that I realized the true horror of what I'd done:  Hot water, it turns out, makes clothing shrink.  Roughly half of the clothes that I had washed (That's a LOT of clothes...  You should've seen me pack that washer.) had shrunk down to something spandex-like.  It was horrible.  The only thing worse than washing clothes is shopping for them, and suddenly I needed a ton of new stuff.  So mark my words: Hot water is the devil when it comes to your washing machine. 

Hopefully these little hints will help you to live the high life without having to experience the anguish that I went through.  Please join me next time for more suggestions on how to achieve housekeeping Nirvana.