Customer Service - or not

Stupid TigerDirect.com. Ugh.

Scott got it in my head we should get Galaxy tablets. I’m all for that. A new toy, hell yeah. So, I go out searching for the WiFi model because, well, I already pay a small fortune to Sprint every month for the phones, I don’t need to add anymore to that monthly raping.

I decide on TigerDirect because it ships same day, I had the option to bump it up to Two Day shipping for next to nothing, and, most importantly, I could use my BillMeLater. This is important. Not because I don’t have the money (well, not for both – but for one, yes) … but rather this is the ONLY form of payment I currently have access to since ALL of my cards (debit and credit) are currently unavailable since reporting them as stolen on Thursday and I haven’t received replacements yet.

So, I place the order, it goes through, woohoo!!!

I got on TigerDirect’s website late last night and it said it was pending for credit authorization. Alright, I’m not sure what exactly that means, but maybe it was a BillMeLater thing, so I let it slide. Didn’t think anything of it.

This morning I get on TigerDirect’s website to see if they had shipped yet. No, they had not. In fact, my order status was listed as “Cancelled.” No explanation, just cancelled. Worse yet, I had to find that out by going to the site, they didn’t even have the DECENCY to e-mail me to tell me this.

I went to BillMeLater’s site and the charge was listed on my account as pending, so obviously there was no problem with the BillMeLater account (which, might I add, I used successfully just a couple weeks ago). I even called BillMeLater to make sure, and she assured me everything was fine with the account.

Not that I have testicles, but you get the idea...

So, I called TigerDirect’s customer service to find out what the hell was going on. The girl was about worthless. “It says your order was cancelled.”

Well, no shit Sherlock. Tell me something I don’t know. “Can you tell me why it was cancelled?”

“No, it doesn’t say, just that it was cancelled.”

“Okay, well, what do I do to fix it?”

“You can try placing the order again.”

Are you freakin’ kidding me? Just to go through all this again? Nope, went out and bought it from another site (which, unfortunately for me, is “powered” by TigerDirect, so I’m still at their mercy).

I subsequently sent the following e-mail to TigerDirect.

"I ordered a router and two Galaxy WiFi only tablets yesterday, thrilled that I was able to find them. Even better was the fact I could have them shipped immediately and for a reasonable price.

Imagine my dismay when I logged in to check the status of my order and found it was cancelled. No reason, just cancelled. (Last night I saw it was under credit review, which made little sense to me considering I have used BillMeLater in the past with no problems. The credit is available and has been used previously. I digress.)

I called customer support to find out what was going on and how I could fix it. The girl was less-than-helpful, telling me she saw it was cancelled - well, no duh, I knew that, that's why I called. She said she didn't know why and that I could try to re-order it.

As if. As much as I have always loved TigerDirect in the past, this has put a sour taste in my mouth. My order was cancelled when there was more than enough credit on the account used to cover the cost. My order was cancelled by TigerDirect and you didn't even have the decency to e-mail me to tell me. And your customer support just told me what I already knew. Why the hell would I call if I wanted them to rehash what I knew?

Before even calling customer support, I went to BillMeLater to make sure there were no problems with the account and it showed that a $XXX purchase was made from TigerDirect - so obviously the problem is not with BillMeLater. And if it is, they neglected to tell me too, and I will write them a nasty e-mail too. I have good credit, I always pay my bills, and I find it a bit ridiculous that it is this difficult to buy a Galaxy tablet. I mean - honestly.

My going to a different site (even if it is powered by you guys - only because you have a monopoly over my ability to purchase a WiFi only Galaxy tablet at the moment) will not break you. Nor will my expression of disgust to my friends and family. But rest assured, I'm not happy.”

And this is what I get in response:

“Dear Valued Customer:

Thank you for your e-mail.

Please accept our sincerest apologies for any inconvenience that may have caused you. We value your comments and suggestions, and they will be forwarded to the proper department. We constantly strive for customer satisfaction and hope this incident will not change your opinion of our company. Again, we apologize and thank you for your time and patience.

Thank you for visiting our website. We appreciate your business. If you have further inquiries and reply to this email, please make sure to include your entire message, so we can address it appropriately.

Sincerely,
Felben
TigerDirect.com Web Response”

Uhh, too late.

Never going back to TigerDirect if I can help it. Thankyouverymuch.

You want to get your kid drunk? Just go to Applebee's!

Tipsy Toddler: Restaurant Mistakenly Serves Alcohol to Child

It was toward the end of their meal at an Applebee's restaurant in Detroit when Taylor Dill-Reese noticed something odd about her son, D.J.
Really, it took her this long to realize her kid was odd?

The 15-month-old boy was acting strangely, his mother said. "He was saying hi and bye to the walls," she said. "He eventually laid his head down on the table and we thought maybe he was just sleepy."
Honestly, my toddler says “hi” and “bye” to a lot of things, and I’m sure she’s done so to a wall a time or two. It’s because they are toddlers. Toddlers are crazy. This is the time in their lives when it’s acceptable to have a conversation with a stuffed dinosaur and not be thought crazy, I don’t see why the wall would be any different. Plus, you’re at an Applebee’s. They have pictures of all sorts of has-beens on the wall, maybe he wanted to talk to them. You just don’t know.

Maybe so, but the toddler was also drunk. He had been served alcohol mixed in with his apple juice.

Drunk = sleepy, so it’s all good.

Served alcohol mixed with the apple juice. Good times. Remind me never to order Munchkin apple juice at Applebee’s.

Let’s think this through – a snafu with the apple juice … at Applebee’s. How apropos.

Police said it was an accident; a mislabeled bottle at the bar was poured into a cup for the child. Applebee's said it's looking into the matter.
Are the police sure? Maybe the toddler was irritating some people. I mean, the waitress could have been pissed at the kid for throwing food on the floor, so she figured if she got the bartender to slip him something, he’d go to sleep. Or maybe he was throwing food AT people sitting at a nearby table and they instigated it – and paid for it. “Hey, sweetheart, get the toddler over there a mixed drink, it’s on us.”

The mislabeled bottle at the bar story doesn’t work for me. Number one, they said earlier it was mixed in with the apple juice. Pouring a kiddie cup of apple juice does not involve multiple bottles. Which means this kid got straight liquor because they weren’t mixed. Sure, yeah, the original bottle could have been drained and they had to get a new bottle out, okay, but wouldn’t someone notice the liquids didn’t look the same while pouring. I mean, piss-colored drink in the cup and clear liquid being poured in is very obviously two different things. It’s not rocket science people. Which brings me to another question, who doesn’t know what apple juice looks and/or smells like? Why couldn’t the bartender tell what was going into that cup wasn’t apple juice, if it was mislabeled or not?

Plus, let’s harp on the parents for a little while, shall we? Didn’t they smell it? I would think you’d be able to smell it from a distance. Did you not taste it? I’ve totally been known to steal a few drinks from Munchkin’s drinks. But, that’s the bad mom in me coming out. (Rest assured, if we order apple juice anywhere that it doesn't come in a clearly-marked box, I will be taste-testing!)

What about the kid, if it tasted funny, why did he drink it? Granted toddler’s palettes aren’t very refined, but you’d think he’d recognize it was not apple juice.

"Obviously, any situation like this is unacceptable," Applebee's said in a written statement. "We are working with local authorities and conducting our own investigation to assess exactly what happened."
A situation like this is unacceptable? You think? What else were they going to say? “Obviously we find this situation to be funny as hell, and kudos to all the people who didn’t pay attention to make this possible. We will be introducing a new happy hour every night from 7-8 for our patrons 3 and under. If they don’t puke after the first one, the second one is free!!”

Alright, now, they are working with local authorities (really, what are the cops going to do here?) and conducting their own investigation. How much of an investigation is warranted? Find the supposedly mislabeled bottle, see what’s in it, find the bartender and find out what the hell happened. End of investigation. We know no one will ‘fess up to this, so just figure out what went wrong and fix it. If it’s truly an “accident,” then no one needs to be fired over it.

Applebee's has been in this situation before. In 2006, a New York City Applebee's admitted accidentally serving a 5-year-old a Long Island iced tea alcoholic drink instead of apple juice.
Wait, they’ve been in this boat before? Really? But wait a minute, wait a minute … this one is more ridiculous. The kid is five. The kid clearly knows what apple juice tastes like and is clearly old enough to verbalize “This isn’t apple juice,” or “This apple juice tastes funny,” or something like that. So, yeah, the idiot kid just wanted to get plastered.

"Within minutes, his eyes were glazed," the child's mother, Cynthia Pereles, said. "It was clear he was under the influence."
LITs have nothing but alcohol (save for a shot of Coke to give it color), you can’t tell me you didn’t smell that across the table.

LITs are served in glasses. (In some places, giant fishbowls!) So what sort of idiot mixed one and poured it into a kiddie cup anyway?

In 2007, a California restaurant served a margarita to a toddler in a covered, plastic sippy cup. Again, the patrons had ordered apple juice.
I’m clearly detecting a theme here. Do not, under any circumstance, order apple juice at Applebee’s. Lesson learned. Next.

This one has no excuse. You put the drink into the kid’s sippy cup, it’s obviously not one of the ones the business uses. You were very obviously trying to do something to that poor kid. You cannot, in any way, mistake a margarita for apple juice.

In Detroit, after realizing what had happened, Dill-Reese said her son was taken to the hospital. The toddler was found to have a 0.1 blood alcohol level, well above the legal limit for an adult to drive.
Elitist reporter note: Editing fail. You don’t go to generalizations like that and then back to the story. It’s confusing, I had to read the story twice before I could follow the convoluted flow. You write about the situation, and then, to close, you talk about how this isn’t the first time this happened.

I hope Applebee's will, at the very least, be paying those hospital bills. 

His mother said the child is now fine but Dill-Reese, who is 18 and too young to drink legally in Michigan, doesn't understand how something like this could have happen.
This sentence structure is awkward, I had to read this one twice too, because the first time I thought they were talking about the kid being 18, not the mom, so I was like, “Wait, this just happened and the kid is 18 now? What, I don’t get it.”

She doesn’t understand how it happened? Really? I don’t think anyone does, hence the internal Applebee’s investigation which is in conjunction with local authorities. Does it really matter to you how it happened? It’s not like, “oh, well, it was just a blind bartender, it’s no big deal.” No, whatever reason behind it does not make it acceptable. Unless you liked your kid being drunk, in which case we need to worry about your parenting skills.

"Nobody at the table ordered alcoholic drinks; we can't, so he definitely shouldn't have received one," Dill-Reese said.
Even if you had ordered alcoholic drinks, he shouldn’t have received one. God, what an idiotic statement.

** EDIT 4/12/11 ***
Apparently, as a result of this accident (which, as you read above, was the THIRD time it happened), Applebee's is changing their policies on juice pouring.

Applebee's changes policies after child served alcohol

Review: My Vega meal replacement products (AKA I do have tact, really)

It’s always fun to walk around Sam’s Club on the weekends because the little old ladies are out with their free samples of all kinds of good stuff. Shoot, you don’t even need to eat lunch, just go to Sam’s Club, you’ll be stuffed before you leave! (And probably spend way more than you intended, that’s just the way it goes at Sam’s.)

We didn’t go to Sam’s this weekend, we went to Whole Foods. Yay organic food! True to form, they had their people out peddling their brands at Whole Foods too.

We were about done with our trip and heading to the check-out, and I passed a guy with meal replacement bars on a table. Well, I’m always about a decent, quick breakfast, so I stopped. He had three kinds – “original,” “green vibrancy,” and “chocolate.” I tried the chocolate – it was a bit strong, but I choked it down. Then I tried the original, which really wasn’t too bad. It was kind of sweet, he goes, “That’s the agave that sweetens it.” Well, he said agave and something else, but I have since forgotten. See how much of an impression he made? But I picked up one of the “original” bars and put it in my cart.

They also had some powder for meal replacement drinks. Eh, I’m a sucker. There were three flavors: Berry, Natural (which was tropical fruit with a hint of cinnamon) and Chocolate Banana. I opted to try the natural, considering I like Trop-a-Rocka tea, and that’s tropical fruit flavored with cinnamon.

This is not the same
green sludge, but you get
the point.

He gets a little taste-tester cup, and he pours out the natural-flavored shake. What came out of that blue bottle looked like seaweed puree. I am sure Scott read the look on my face, which translated into, “OMG, do I have to drink that?”

I took a sniff. It actually didn’t smell that bad.

I took a tiny taste and said, “It tastes better than it looks.”

The guy goes, “Yeah, they decided to focus on taste first, and looks second.”

Well, dude, here’s the thing … you eat with your eyes too. If something doesn’t look good or smell good, as those are the senses that are engaged before taste, no one will taste it. And I am most certainly not drinking green sludge for breakfast every morning.

Furthermore, the taste was okay. It didn’t gag me right then and there, but I didn’t really want to finish it either, and all I had was about a shot of this stuff. So, I walked away, promising I’d look on the website to buy the stuff. Scott asked if I wanted him to throw the still mostly-full cup away, and I told him there was a trash can back by the bakery. Unfortunately, he had to pass the My Vega guy on the way there and he’s like, “Oh, I’ll take that.” So, yeah, Scott inadvertently ratted me out. Thanks Scott. I was all nice and tactful, for once in my life, and you had to go ruin that one shining moment for me!

But wait – there’s more!

This morning Scott packed up my lunch for me, and threw the bar in there for me to eat for breakfast. I opened it, took a bite. Okay. Tolerable. Definitely not my choice for breakfast every day, but it wasn’t gag-inducing. Until the second bite. For whatever reason I can only handle this bar in one-bite increments. I guess it’s the after-taste combining with the actual taste of it that just about made me throw it out the window. (Why didn’t I, you ask? Because I like birds too much to feed that to them. Maybe I’ll shove it down the throats of the evil geese at work, though.)

I ended up in the drive-thru at Chick-Fil-A for breakfast instead. It was his pleasure to serve me. And dammit it was my pleasure to eat my chicken bagel instead of this vegan crap. Note to self, scratch “become a vegan” off the bucket list. Not happening.

Raw, meat-free, gluten-free, soy-free, yummy-free bar My Vega people can bite me. I am an omnivore for a reason, darn it.

I think I'd rather this Vega kick my ass than My Vega.

Days Inn is the DEBIL!!!

Man tells police he set fire because of Satan

No, no, really, you read that right. Keep reading.

Convinced that he was sharing a motel room with Satan, a man set his blankets ablaze in Lynnwood on Friday, according to what he told police.
Well, I have to admit, there are a lot of people I’d love to share a hotel room with (a hotel, not a motel … I DO. NOT. DO. MOTELS.) – but Satan is definitely not on that list. So I can’t say that I blame this guy for not wanting to share his room with Bealz, but honestly, couldn’t you just call in an exorcist or ask to be moved to another room? Those things would definitely cross my mind before, “Hey, let’s torch the place.”

Plus, come on dude, he lives in Hell. Fire doesn’t bother him.
 

The man, 52, of Redmond, had been staying at the Days Inn on 196th Street SW for about a month, according to a police affidavit filed in Snohomish County Superior Court.
Well, his first problem is that he’s been staying in a motel for about a month, his second being that it’s a Days Inn. A place like that is just screaming to be infested by rodents, annoying children, demons, or the Devil. I mean, it’s really no surprise.

Fire crews were called about 8:30 a.m. Friday when smoke began pouring out of the second floor room where the man was staying.
I should hope fire crews were called to handle the fire. Though, honestly, if there was a church nearby, they could have gotten the pastor to sprinkle holy water and scream “Be gone, Satan” and it would have worked the same.

The fire was contained to one room because of fire sprinklers, officials said. About six rooms were damaged in all, as well as guests' personal property.
Was the fire contained to one room because of fire sprinklers, or because the Devil was only out to drive this guy insane. Who knows? Was the personal property the guests’ Bibles, because then you’d know it was the Devil for sure!

The man told police that he set the room on fire because Satan was in there, according to the affidavit. He reportedly said he wanted to protect "the good people" by setting the fire.
You want to protect “the good people” by running them out of their hotel and/or burning them alive if they got trapped. Yeah, you thought that one through. However, you have to appreciate the sentiment. It’s sweet. Of course, one might ask why the Devil was tormenting this one guy. I mean, if I were the Devil running rampant in a Days Inn, I’d be taking advantage of that fact and driving as many people crazy as possible. That’s why suicide bombers go for busy street markets.

The investigation showed that flames began in the room in at least four different places, including the blankets.
Are they sure it’s the flames from the fire this guy set and not the flames from Satan himself when he appeared to this nutjob?

Think about it … Satan pops up over here. Old dude runs after him. He disappears. Pops up in another location in the room, “Hahaha, can’t get me sucker.” And they play this game over and over again until the Devil popped up on the bed – which was stupid on his part, because you know Days Inn does not have high quality linens, so they aren’t flame retardant and poof … bed goes up in flames. (The Devil is cunning, he’s not intelligent. Big difference.)

Hotel officials told police the man had repeatedly called hotel employees the "anti-Christ" and "spawns of Satan."
Okay, now I’m confused. Was Satan in your room a hotel employee? I mean, the maid is allowed to let herself in to clean your room.

Hotel management had asked the man to move out the day of the fire.
Duh. Umm, not winning.

The man was being held Monday at Snohomish County Jail for investigation of first-degree arson. Police who searched his room after the fire found two bottles of lighter fluid, records show.
Investigation? How much investigation has to take place, I mean, really? Come on, you can’t automatically see lighter fluid and think arson, can you? I mean, what if he’s a fire-eater? What if … yeah, I got nothing. He did it. Lock him up. He’s crazy.

The case remains under investigation by Lynnwood police. No injuries were reported.
Well, except to this dude’s fragile mental state, but hey, that was bound to happen.

Parenting fail of the year (and it's only March!)

Couple confesses to killing boy who wet his pants

Orange County Sheriff's deputies say a couple beat a 3-year-old child to death because he peed his pants.
I have started way too many blogs with the words, “Really? Really?” But can you honestly read that and not ask that? And seriously, why are all the nutjobs in Florida?

Robin Greinke, 26, and Steven Neil, 33, were arrested Thursday night on charges of child abuse, first-degree murder and child neglect.
I should hope so. Thank God. I think you also need to add stupidity and procreating without a license (or at the very least procreating with stupidity) just for good measure.

Investigators said on Feb. 28 the couple punched and struck the boy for more than an hour after he urinated on himself.
I am both appalled by the poor sentence structure and the actions described in said poorly-constructed sentence. They punched and struck (which means, what, exactly? Did they use a weapon, or did they backhand him?) their kid for an hour because he peed himself? They could have washed and dried his clothes in less time than that.

"They were upset with him and they tossed him and spanked him and punched him," said Chris Dillon, a homicide investigator.
Tossed him, where, exactly? From person to person – because we’ve done that with Munchkin. She thinks it’s funny. Until one of us doesn’t catch her. Okay, I’m kidding, I’m kidding.

Honestly, though, they were upset with him because he peed himself? Let’s look at this at, kids have accidents, it happens. My child has been potty trained for almost 10 months now, and she still has an occasional accident, it’s part of the territory of being a kid. I mean, yeah, I’ve been mad because she didn’t tell me she had to go, but I have never, not once, scolded her for it. Because I’m not a shitty parent.

But how about the fact that, had they potty trained him correctly, this might not have been an issue.

After the attack subsided, deputies said Neil and Greinke then ordered pizza and watched a movie.
How does that go? “Well, beating the crap out of the kid sure worked up an appetite, you wanna order pizza? If they don’t get it here in 30 minutes or less, what do you say we beat the crap out of the pizza guy?”

What movie did they watch? Oh the possibilities …

• Rocky
• Million Dollar Baby
• Cinderella Man
• When We Were Kings
• Ali
• Raging Bull

It wasn't until around 5 a.m. on March 1 that the couple called 911. Greinke told investigators she made the call because her son was wheezing and she couldn't sleep.
Okay, YOU couldn’t sleep because the child YOU just beat the ever-loving life out of was wheezing because he wet his pants and YOU were going to have to do laundry. You are such a selfish bitch, of course your 9-1-1 call wasn’t for his well-being, but rather your own.

When paramedics arrived, they performed CPR but were unable to save the child.
Of course they couldn’t save the child, hence the word “killing” in the headline and the quoting of a homicide investigator earlier in the story. I love it when they state the obvious.

Initially doctors thought meningitis was the cause of death. However, after an autopsy, medical examiners attributed the child's death to physical trauma.
Honestly, didn’t the bruises all over the child’s body give someone a clue? There is no way that kid was beat on for an hour and did not have marks all over.

Neil and Greinke both confessed to drinking beer and hitting the child numerous times.
You freakin’ think? If you told me alcohol wasn't involved, I'd be more shocked.

Deputies said Neil has a history of abuse with both women and children.
Oh, he’s a winner right there. Good choice. Oh, let me guess, he promised he’d change this time. Haha, joke’s on him. This time he gets to go to jail and enjoy abuse in a whole new way.

The child would have turned four years old in May.
Poor kid. But you know, those people didn’t deserve him. It’s a shame he was freed from those god-awful parents this way, though.

On Friday, a judge ordered Neil be held without bond at the Orange County Jail.
Good, old dude doesn’t deserve bond.

Greinke was denied bond during her first appearance in front of a judge Saturday.
And neither does she.

Greinke's court appearance was delayed a day because she was on suicide watch at the jail. 
Oh, come off it, you egotistical sorry excuse for a human being. You are not that remorseful over this whole thing, because otherwise you might have stopped after the first blow – not kept at it for AN HOUR! No, it’s too good for this woman to die now. She should have to live with what she did each and every day for the rest of her life – for 60 more years. Hold onto this until you’re 86 and see if you have any remorse.

Archives: We are the biggest dorks known to man

Mickey Mouse Platy

~~ Originally posted as a Facebook Note on January 23, 2010 ~~

 

We picked up a myriad of new fish for the tanks in the last couple of days.

First, let me back up a little bit. The whole foray into becoming fish people started in late August when I figured a small tank in Jocelyn's room would make a great night-light. (Turns out I was right.) Then my dear friend Amy told me she had a 55-gallon tank she would GIVE me. And everything that went with it. At first I turned her down, but the more I thought about it, the more appealing the offer was, especially if she wasn't going to be using it. (And truth be told, it is so much better for the tank/filter/etc. to be used rather than just sitting in storage.) So we added the big mamma jamma tank to the living room decor.
  Originally, we just bought a few fish. Two female bettas (one blue and one red), two cory catfish and a plecostomus for the big tank downstairs and a beautiful blue male betta and a plecostomus for Jocelyn's tank.

Fast-forward to last week. In the time since we got the tanks set up, I managed to kill one plecostomus, one of the female bettas, and the male betta contracted a variety of diseases that couldn't be cured so we put him out of his misery a la the freezer.

Orange platy

You might think that we would give up on fish at that point. Nope. You know me ... full steam ahead on the challenge.

So I went to PetSmart yesterday and bought a beautiful calico fantail goldfish for Jocelyn's tank. And I picked up a few Platys (or Platties - depends on where you look online), a pregnant dalmation molly and some tetras.

Jocelyn's poor goldfish was stressed beyond belief. It was hiding, it wouldn't eat, it was awful. So what do I do? I decide this goldfish needs a friend. So off we go to the pet store today to get it a friend. (Which we did, and which did help it come out of its shell a little bit, although the additional plants I added to the tank might have helped with that too.) Beyond that, Scott was a little upset I got fish without him, so we picked up a fish for him - an incandescent shark catfish and I got another Mickey Mouse platy because, well, it's cool.

The guy at IncrediPet asked me if I had named the fish. I really hadn't given it much thought. So, over the course of the day, we managed to figure out names for all the fish.

Phineas and Ferb - the two goldfish in Jocelyn's room. The orange and black one (that is quite social, ironically enough) is Phineas and the shy calico one is Ferb.

Walt and Disney - the two Mickey Mouse Platys. The white one is Walt because I know for a fact that one is male. I haven't had the chance to figure out what the blue one is, so Disney works for it because, well, it can go either way.

Alpha - the red female betta, left from the original batch of fish. She was the first!

Candace and Perry the Platy - the two orange and black platys. One is female and one is male, so it works pretty well.
  Rorshach - the dalmation molly. Enough said. If it's spelled wrong, oh well ... you still got it. (And yes, Scott's the one that came up with that genius name, I can't take credit for that one at all.)

Argon, Xenon, Neon, Hydrogen and Raydon - the tetras. (Yes, you edumacated folks, those would be the noble gases. And yes, I spelled Radon wrong on purpose.)

Demish and Boogish - the two cory catfish ... named after Demon and Booger, our two cats.

Bruce - the shark. Fish are friends!

And drumroll please, because Scott named the remaining plecostomus Lawyer ... because it's a bottom-feeder. (Autumn, please don't kill me. I swear, it was all him.)

That, my friends, is why we're the biggest dorks in the world. But you know, we're also the people with a dog named Oscar Wylde Intentions, so would you expect anything less of us?

Oh, and for added fun, we got a new tank decoration - it's a big castle, looks a bit like Hogwarts. (Alas, it's not sitting in the gravel quite right, so I joke that there was an earthquake. I'm going to let the fish get acclimated and reduce their stress before I go screwing with the tank - as it was, I already did a water change and rearranged the tank on them today.)

Archives: The Great TV Escapade

~~ Originally posted as a Facebook Note on August 7, 2009 ~~

Time start: 2:00 p.m. when Scott calls me and suggests that we go to Best Buy and get the new TV today since I had to be in Lexington anyway.

I think it's a great idea, so I ask Mom if she would mind watching Baby Girl so we could go to Best Buy after I ran to work. She's game for babysitting, and a plan is formed. I left for work, and made it all the way to Coventry on Georgetown Road when I realized I should have borrowed Chris' truck so we could bring our purchase home ... so I call Laura to ask, and turn around to go drop off my car and pick up Chris' truck. (Hindsight's 20/20, okay?)

I go to work, and along the way I come up with the plan to check out what Pieratt's has to offer, since that's where we got the last TV, I thought they might be able to take care of us, and we already had credit with them so that would eliminate the need to apply for credit. Alas, I get to Pieratt's before Scott and the guy's got a great TV, but extremely overpriced and he can't get anywhere close to what Best Buy was offering. That was a bust.

So, I head off to Best Buy and apply for credit while I'm waiting on Scotty to get there. I get hooked up with the most awesome customer service guy and he makes sure we have everything we need. We walk out of Best Buy an hour and a half later with a 55 inch Samsung LCD TV, a new TV stand for it, HDMI cables, screen cleaner and a 22 inch LCD for upstairs. (All for less than we paid for the last TV!)

Excited about our purchase, Scott and I go get a great dinner at Olive Garden, and had a great server, great meal. Happiness ensues. We go unload the truck, return it to Chris and Laura's, and then go get the Boomder from Mom's ... and she's so funny, just running around and playing and going a mile a minute - and I don't know how she's doing it at 9 p.m. But we take her home and she crashes - and hard!

And that's where the fun stops.
 

Booger surveying the warzone our living
room became.

Enter the disaster.

Scott agreed he'd get the stuff hooked up tomorrow night while Mom and I are at the movies. But that was when we were under the impression we had the old TV until Saturday. Nope, Dean called today and wants the TV tomorrow. So we decide that I'll go ahead and put together the TV stand, and we'll get the new TV on it and hooked up to the cable so that Dean can take the old TV tomorrow, and that Baby Girl can still watch her cartoons tomorrow morning. No problem, right?

Shot from another angle of our warzone of a living room

Well, first I go to get the electric screwdriver and the Phillips bit has disappeared. I ask Scott where it is and he gets pissed and says he doesn't have a clue, and why the hell was I asking him. I was like, "Because you were the last person to use it." He and I are screaming back and forth about how we weren't the last one to use it. I eventually proved that he was, in fact, the last person to use it, but by that point he was just pissed off that "I had to be right." But nevermind, the screws on this piece actually went in without too much hassle, electric screwdriver not really necessary. Screaming match not really necessary.

Well, I get started and we realize that it might be a tight fit in the arch that was custom-built for the TV we're getting rid of. It's fine length-wise (a difficult fit, but possible), but width-wise turned out to be a problem. It was just about half an inch too wide to fit easily.

First we have to abandon the instructions, we must alter to match our wrestling match with fitting it inside the arch. Then we realize we'll have to take out not one, but two of the shelves in the arch in order to wrestle this sonofabitch in.

In the process of doing so we bust the cable outlet all to hell (no biggie, it's hidden), gouge the hell out of the wall in numerous places, and get wood stain on the wall in various places. Oh yeah, and baseboards are removed from the wall. Why you ask? Because the idiots who built our house don't know how to make walls square (don't believe me, go look in the master bathroom), and one side of the arch is deeper than the other one.

After all that, this stupid thing is in.

Oh, but wait, the hole in the back doesn't align with the electrical outlet. Shoot. Which, in reality, I insisted we put the back on for stability (which we needed in the course of our wrestling match, but would have saved a ton of problems had I listened to Scott and left it off). Can't win them all.

So, by now it's about 12:30 and Scott gets my jigsaw out of the garage so we can cut this hole. Well, I'm pretty scared because the saw blade is too long if I put the guide all the way to the back, and being that I don't want to cut the drywall, or worse, the electrical socket, we abandon the notion of the jigsaw. (Note, this was only after Scott spent half an hour with the jigsaw in pieces around him, and him playing with it like a monkey with a math problem trying to put it back together.)

Now enter the 1:00 a.m. trip to Wal-Mart to purchase a hand-saw with which to cut this hole. I'm so fried at this point, I find power tools but no hand saws (the next aisle over, perhaps). But I find a rotary tool that has cutting, drilling, engraving (cause you never know if you need to engrave something). Solution solved. Plus I get to thinking that we're going to have to cut more holes in the top of the TV stand for power cords, and I can't find the drill-bit attachment that makes holes for just such an occasion. (Again, note, it's 1:00 a.m. and I'm blindly running around Wal-Mart purchasing power tools that aren't the right ones for the job. What do you freakin' expect?)

I get home and we put the new rotary tool in action. We get started on the cut but it's taking forever and is hard to control. So I convince Scotty that we have to take the whole piece back out of the arch and use the jigsaw on it. Which we do. Hole cut. After we wrestle it back in, we find out it only freed one of the electrical sockets instead of both, but dammit, we didn't freakin' care at this point.

Then came the task of putting the top of the TV stand on the body. Knowing this was the widest part of the TV stand, we were concerned. And rightfully so. It was just a bit too tight a fit. So, out comes the rotary tool once again, this time with the sander attachment on it and Scotty starts sanding the drywall (you can't see it, it's behind the front of the arch). This, subsequently wakes up Baby Girl. (I know, the fighting, the jigsaw, the drill - none of it wakes her up, but the rotary tool does. Go figure.)

So, I go upstairs and calm her down. I come downstairs and Scotty has abandoned sanding the drywall, and has instead started sanding the furniture itself. Remember what I said about the walls not being square? Well, one side fit down fine, but the other one did not. Hence why he had to sand the furniture itself.

After sanding and beating and sanding and beating and sanding and beating some more, he gives the top one last pound and it goes down. It also breaks a corner off. Holy shit! This was a nice piece of furniture until we got ahold of it. Now it's worth less than the spool you steal from construction sites to use as a dinner table when you're in college.

ANYWAY, that's done. I sit down and the thing isn't level. I get up and get a level (I'm anal, okay?) and it is, in fact, not level. But it's in there so freakin' tight now that it won't move. Not a bit. So we have to deal with it not being level. And I noticed it bowed up in the middle. I said, "Eh, once we put the TV on it, it'll even out."

So, now comes the moment of truth, the unboxing of the TV. We pick it up, put it on the TV stand ... and we both end up squishing our fingers at one point or another, Scott can't find where the power cable plugs in, the optical video cable is a piece of crap and won't stay connected, and then Scotty can't find the power cable to the cable box. All is eventually remedied and I sit down to see if the fact the stand isn't level is noticeable on the TV. It's not really - but now the TV stand bows in the middle the opposite way now that the TV is on it. At this point it's quarter to three in the morning, you just have to let some stuff go.

Well, finally, at 2:56 a.m., the TV is hooked up and the power has been turned on for the first time. It's just snow, but dammit, the TV is alive. It's about damn time. (Note, Scotty said he wanted to be in bed by midnight. HAHAHAHA!)

To Scotty's credit, he does get the cable hooked up to it, and he turns on something in HD and it is unbelievable. Phineas and Ferb never looked so good! And then, for someone who didn't really want to stay up past midnight, he spends the next 20 minutes playing with the TV and admiring the HD. (We had HD before, but not like this!)

Baby Girl wakes up again, I go upstairs and calm her down. And we finally call it a night. Round about 3:30 a.m. But it's not over yet ... no, no, tomorrow I still need to clean up the living room and make it Jocelyn-safe (and Oscar-safe for that matter), still need to attach the doors to the TV stand, and Scotty needs to hook up the surround sound, XBox and Wii.

Next time we decide to buy a new TV, even if it's for a noble cause like our anniversary, someone please smack me.

Archives: Slicing off the end of my finger - good times

This was taken two days later when I went to the
doctor to have the mesh crap removed. They
were laughing at me for taking pictures. I said, "Hey, it's
for my sadistic friends on Facebook."

~~ Originally posted as a Facebook Note on March 10, 2010 ~~

Okay, so here's the whole story, without the Facebook character limit. If there are any typos, please forgive me, it's a little hard to type without an index finger.

So, I finished Billy's quilt and still had a bunch of squares left and I wanted to do something with them. I decided to make a scrap quilt. In order to do that, I had to cut all the pieces into usable strips. I did just fine earlier today, using my crappy rotary tool. But it wasn't giving me clean cuts, so I opted to move to my good rotary tool when I was cutting strips tonight.

I had been working on this for about half an hour, was in the groove (despite the fact my blade fell off twice and I had to fix it ... that should have been a sign to stop, but did I listen, no). I make a cut, obviously not paying much attention and the next thing I know, I see something that looks like part of my fingernail pop across the mat. Oh, so I shaved off a fingernail, no biggie. Then I look at my hand. Uh oh.

I put my right hand under my left hand to catch the blood as I run downstairs to rinse it off (don't know why I did that, there is a bathroom not 10 feet from the room I was in) and wrap it before applying pressure. Scott asks what's wrong, I tell him I cut off the tip of my finger, and I hadn't even finished the sentence when he was on the phone, asking Mom to come over and sit with the Baby Girl, on the offhand chance she woke up. (We didn't see the point to wake her, but didn't want to leave Oscar in charge. He's been a punk lately.)

Off we go to the ER. The gal who checked us in was great. The nurse in triage was an idiot. She asked me if I smoked twice. Apparently I might have forgotten if I did or not in thirty seconds' time. She made me unwrap my finger to look at it, and as such, it starts throbbing again.

She takes me back to the room. We wait for a few and the doctor comes in. She's pretty cool. Accused me of making a mess of her room... well, whatcha gonna do? Once again, have to take the wrapping off the finger, the blood flow restarts and the pain returns. ARGH.

She informs me that there are no blood vessels in the tip, so there's no reattaching it. Great. And because it was a slice and not just a cut, she can't stitch it up. Translation: my left index finger will permanently be slightly disfigured. About a quarter of an inch of flesh on an angle. Eh, could be worse. Battle scars are cool.

The step she's going to take is put a tourniquet on my finger to stop the blood flow, and then she will use this stuff that will clot as soon as it gets wet. Coolness.

Off she goes to get her stuff. She's gone for quite awhile, so I lay down and watch as Scott reads comments to his post about us being in the ER. We hear the doctor just outside the door with the Physician's Assistants (which she told us she'd be bringing them in) and she says, "You guys have got to see this." No, I'm not kidding. As they walk in, I sit up and scare the poor PA, thought Scott said she was freaked out because we were laughing so much.

They get started on what they are going to do, and then she puts that mesh-clotting-magic stuff on my finger. She could have warned me it was going to sting like a mother scratcher. We get it all taken care of, cracking jokes the whole time. I'm sure they thought I was on something, but, well, you know what they say: Those who can laugh at themselves never cease to be amused. Besides, if I didn't laugh, I'd cry.

Then I had to get a tetnus shot, but the guy was awesome because I didn't feel it. Of course, the true test will be how sore my arm is tomorrow morning! Of course, I would have loved that guy regardless cause he brought me 800mg of Motrin, and for that I was thankful.

He told me we had to wait 15-20 minutes to make sure I didn't had a reaction to the shot. Unfortunately a drunk dude in handcuffs came in and distracted everyone, so he forgot about me. Finally Scott went out to make sure they remembered we were alive and they discharged me. The gal at the check-out desk asked us what we were laughing about the whole time, so I had to go through the whole spiel again, but I said, "Wouldn't you rather us laugh than scream bloody murder?" She told us a few stories about her nights in the ER, and one time she sliced her finger open. Good times.

Side note: They kept handing me forms to sign. But since I'm left-handed and I managed to do this to my left hand (because, oddly enough, I cut with my right hand), I laughed and handed all the forms to Scott.

Side note #2: Nancy at Sew-A-Lot just gave me a lesson on rotary cutting last Monday. Apparently I'm not a very good student.

Side note #3: Remember the drunk dude in handcuffs I mentioned? Seven cop cars in the hospital parking lot as we left.

Cheaper by the Dozen

Let me start by saying that I’m going to avoid getting all political. I will, however, bash on England. Sorry, Lily. It’s just too easy. I know I’ve gotten yelled at for insulting people who wanted a ton of kids – so, yeah, I’m expecting it this time!  

I want more, says 12-baby scrounger

A SPONGING mum who has made a career out of having kids and getting the state to fund them has given birth to her twelfth - and wants even more.
I love the fact the “news” source actually insulted her in the lead. Epic win. It’s a shame this woman is an epic fail.

Why is she an epic fail? Keep going…

Super scrounger Joanne Sheppard, 36 - who rakes in more than £30,000 a year in benefits with her layabout partner - was snapped cradling the latest addition to her brood.
Ohh, look, she’s a “super scrounger.” Nice. (Side note: AP style dictates something like that should be hyphenated. But it’s a story from Britain, I don’t know if they follow AP style or not.)

So, as of today, that converts to 48,832.67 USD. I don’t even make that much a year! And she gets it from the government? I. Hate. People. (And. Their. Little. Kids. Too.)

I love “layabout,” that one’s nice. Whoever writes for The Sun is great with adjectives. I don’t know that they are legit in “real” news, but it does make it easier to read.

And she has confided to a pal "I've no plans to stop".
Well, of course you don’t – looks like you’re getting about $4,000 a year for each kid. If you can pop out another one, boom, there’s another $4,000 next year. And it’s not like you have to pay for the medical costs since, you know, England has socialized medicine. How has someone else not come up with this genius plan yet?

The outraged friend said yesterday: "She wants more children as soon as she can.
Read: “The outraged taxpayer said yesterday.”

"It's all more money for them. They are all take, take, take. It's disgusting."
Well, you don’t know if she orgasmed when she slept with him to get pregnant, it may not have been all take, take, take … but you know, it wouldn’t surprise me at all.

The Sun revealed last year how Sheppard - who raises her brood in a free five-bed house - was expecting again.
Well, congratulations Sun. Though, let’s be fair, you shouldn’t have broken the story. One – her friends, or anyone looking at her, would be able to tell she was pregnant (shoot, with number 12, she was probably showing the minute she started thinking about getting pregnant) and two – no taxpayers really want to read about something like this.

She has not done a stroke of work since getting pregnant with her first child at 17.
Sure she has, it’s all been on her back. *rimshot*

Okay, well, does this really surprise you? I’m not going to bash teenage pregnancy, I know plenty of people who got pregnant early and didn’t end up being total screw-ups/moochers. I also know that being a mom is a hard job. That being said ... it doesn't excuse this type of behavior.

The mum and lover Gary Bateman, 47 - father of latest baby Dawson - will now see their child benefits boosted even further.
See, I told you. Each baby – big money, big money, no whammy!

Bateman has not had a job since 1999.
Are you really surprised by this?

He claims to have a bad back despite being exposed two years ago as taking part in gruelling off-road motorcycling.
Apparently the people at The Sun have nothing better to do than expose these poor people. Not that I’m saying it’s okay to not work because of a “bad back” but then do whatever the hell you want – but the point is, are the reporters at The Sun stalking these people?
Anyone ever think the grueling (spelled with one l in this country) off-road motorcycling caused the bad back? Or was it the excessive thrusting his non-working baby momma made him do? So many unanswered questions.

Bateman - who has also fathered kids with other women - insisted yesterday: "There's going to be no more - we've got enough."
Oh, well, look, he’s got a brood of his own the government can support. How nice. At least he’s somewhat logical insomuch as he doesn’t want to have anymore, despite the $4,000 a year hike in their “income.”

But the family friend said: "Joanne says she wants more - she doesn't see any reason not to."
Of course she doesn’t. All she sees is getting waited on hand-and-foot while pregnant, a three-to-five day hospital stay where she will have three meals a day brought to her, and breastfeeding, which will help her drop that pregnancy weight so good ol’ lazy bum will find her attractive so he’ll sleep with her and they can start the process all over again. (Wait, this woman probably doesn’t breastfeed. She’s probably too selfish for something like that. And I’m not saying that bottle feeding is wrong – I’m just saying, she’ll want to get as much for free as she can, including formula)

Taxpayers foot the £1,200-a-month rent for the huge clan's five-bed home in Staple Hill, Bristol.
Of course they do. Taxpayers also pay for their meals, the kid’s back-to-school clothes, and probably this chick’s new post-baby wardrobe too.

They were given it last summer after complaining their previous three-bed council house in nearby Yate was too small.
Who gave it to them? I’d love to know that. Of course your three-bedroom home for 13 people was small, you think? Just dig a hole and live in a burrow like rabbits, you certainly have other rabbit behaviors down pat.

The house is crammed with the latest gadgets including flat-screen TVs.
Well, duh. You can’t raise kids on old TVs with tubes. That is so passé. The more kids you have, the nicer that TV better be, too.

Bateman ferries the kids to and from school in a minibus bought by his parents.
Wow, his parents are nice. Wonder if they realize their son is such a bum. Regardless, they are supporting this behavior and they shouldn’t be. Yeah, yeah, I’m sure they did it for the kids, and the kids shouldn’t suffer because their parents are idiots … I agree with that. But if that’s the case, perhaps 10 of the kids should be removed from the home, because having 12 kids can’t be what’s best for the kids. How much “mom and dad” time do these kids get? How many healthy, home-cooked meals do these kids get? How much does Christmas suck in this house? “Enjoy your Dollar Store toy (or is that the Single Pound Store?), if you want more, you better hope Parliament votes to increase our benefits next year.”

They regularly stop at a local McDonald's - where the bill often tops £60.
Back to the fun of currency conversion – that’s $97.50 USD. What. The. Hell. We spend more than $15 for the three of us to eat at McDonald’s and I start getting twitchy. That averages out to about $7 a person. Guess what. The government is paying it too!

Move to England – free healthcare and McDonald’s paid for by a figurehead monarchy. Who wouldn’t want to be British???

Bateman stormed yesterday: "I don't care what people say. They should learn to keep their mouths shut."
Ohhhhh, lazy bum thinks I need to keep my mouth shut. What are you going to do?

Hey, maybe someone should have told your girlfriend to keep her legs shut!

Here’s the thing, genius, people are going to talk. The more you put yourself out there, the more they are going to talk and the more judgmental they are going to be. What tomato truck did you fall off of yesterday, anyway?

--
Now, a note about the Duggars – because you know I think Jim Bob and Michelle are whacked. Whereas I don’t believe in their need for a huge family, they are NOT doing it on the government’s dime. They make those kids work, they go to thrift stores and other things to save money. No, I don’t think their home life is perfect, and it’s impossible to give all the kids the attention they need with all of those other siblings competing for it, but still … I have a little more respect for the Duggars than these dirtbags. (Of course, now the Duggars have sold out, and are living on handouts from well-meaning – read: wanting free advertisement – companies and all, and they have a show on TLC, but hey, they didn’t start out this way.) So, yeah. I still think they are both nuts, but at least the Duggars are a little bit more sane and responsible.  However, I do believe both these women should be sterilized. Twice. Just for good measure.

F*ck you, Charlie Sheen

Charlie Sheen: I Cured Myself With My Mind

He's no friend of Bill W.
Who the hell is that? A quick Google did give me the answer (I love the internet), and he is apparently the founder of AA.

Elitist reporter note: Here’s a shock, not everyone has experienced AA (or been intimately close with someone who has) so they may not be familiar with Bill W. Story lead fail.

In his latest radio rant, Charlie Sheen blasted 12-step programs, calling them "bootleg cults" with a success rate of 5 percent, noting that his sobriety success rate was 100 percent.
Why is Charlie Sheen ranting on the radio? Shouldn’t he be in rehab – like, a real rehab facility – somewhere?

Okay, 5 percent? You know, 98 percent of all statistics are made up.  Actually, my dear friend, the internet (I think I should marry it someday), did corroborate Sheen’s numerical “fact.” I use the word fact in quotes because I also saw 10 percent success rates reported, 25 percent success rate, 30 percent success rate, and even 95 percent success rate of 12-step programs. Sheen just picked a random number he’s seen quoted somewhere. It’s about as accurate as if he pulled it out of his ass (or his hooker’s ass).


AND ... since when is your sobriety 100 percent? How often have you been in and out of rehab, jerk-off?

"News-flash," the actor told The Alex Jones Show. "I am special and I will never be one of you."
News-flash, you are not special and you are a pudwhack. I sincerely hope to God you will never be one of us. I don’t want to share more in common with you than the fact we both breathe.

Sheen, 45, went on to dismiss the notion that substance abuse is a disease.
That’s the opposite of most alcoholics, most of them are quick to blame their problem on the fact they have a disease so it can’t possibly be their fault. Could Charlie Sheen actually have a mature thought?

"I have a disease?" he said. "Bulls**t! I cured it ... with my mind."
Okay, I take it back, that was hardly a mature thought. Silly me for assuming he could have a mature thought.

And I call bullshit, you can’t cure anything with your mind if you don’t have a mind.

Calling Two and a Half Men creator Chuck Lorre a "turd," Sheen claimed to have embarrassed him "in front of his children and the world by healing at a pace that his un-evolved mind cannot process."
Nothing like biting the hand that feeds you, Charlie. Lorre is, you know, like, your boss.  If I called my boss a “turd” he wouldn’t be my boss much longer.

Guess what, I find it hard to believe you’re rehabilitated after two weeks of in-home rehab so apparently my mind is un-evolved as well.

Claiming someone else’s mind is “un-evolved” sounds a bit all psycho-Scientologist, doesn’t it? Hmmm, did Tom Cruise and John Travolta share some of their crazy Kool-Aid?

Lorre was far from Sheen's only target. Seemingly referring to various ex-lovers who've sold their stories to the press, he said:
"These turds, these losers, there’s no reason to then bring them back into the fold because I have real fame, they have nothing. They have zero. They have that night. And I will forget about them as the last image of them exits my beautiful home. And they will get out there and they will sell me and they will lose. Bring me a frickin’ challenge. It just ain’t there."
Wow, someone’s being vicious. Didn’t his momma teach him that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar? You keep that attitude up, Charlie, not a hooker in LA or New York would even want to have that night with you. BTW, what’s up with “turd?” Is that the only insult your miniscule mind can eek out? Come on, crack open a thesaurus – it’s not really a challenge.

Ex-wife Brooke Mueller was not beyond Sheen's ridicule either. Apparently Mueller flew to the Bahamas with Sheen and two women Wednesday, but has since decided not to continue on with the the group.
This woman really needs to cut ties with this man, save for the child support checks. Why on Earth did she decide to embark upon a vacation with this man and two other women? What kind of idiot is she? And where the hell were the twins? That’s some great parenting there. Those poor boys haven’t got a shot in hell.

"Goodbye Brooke. Good luck in your travels, you're going to need it, badly," the actor quipped.
Hey, Charlie, Brooke’s going to be laughing over your grave, so I’d bite your tongue if I were you. I think you need more luck than she does.


Even President Thomas Jefferson fell victim Sheen's ire. When Jones told Sheen he sounded Jeffersonian, Sheen replied. "I'm not Thomas Jefferson. He was a p***y!"
Okay, so Thomas Jefferson was a pussy – but he also penned the Declaration of Independence, was President, is responsible for the Louisiana Purchase, Lewis and Clark, and he founded the University of Virginia (among other things like banging his slaves). Besides banging people you weren’t married to, what the hell do the two of you have in common? Here’s the thing, Charlie, people hundreds of years will still be learning about, and writing reports about, Thomas Jefferson. You’ll just be some dead actor no one gives a damn about because the mark of your tenure in this world was made with hookers, drugs and calling people “turds.” Who’s the pussy now?

A tell-tale sign your dog doesn't like you anymore

Driver's dog helps Oregon deputy make drug bust

An Oregon sheriff's deputy didn't need a drug dog to point out a stash during a recent traffic stop. The driver's dog did it for him.
Good boy. Oh, wait, no, not good boy. If I were that dog’s owner, I’d be making that dog pay for my ticket!

KGW-TV reports Sherman County sheriff's Sgt. John Terrel was pulling over a pickup truck Feb. 9 when he saw a sock fly out the window. It turned out to be stuffed with marijuana and hashish.
What was the traffic infraction that initiated this course of events? Was he driving erratically? Was he speeding? Did he run a Stop sign? It wasn’t just because he suspected this guy had drugs in a sock.

Not that it’s really incorrect, but “It turned out to be stuffed…” is just awkward phrasing. Wouldn’t “The sock was stuffed with …” work just as well?

Alright, now, let’s delve into keeping your stash in a sock … why? Does anyone really want to smoke weed that smells like your stank-ass feet? I think not.

Did the socks look like this? :)

The driver told Terrel he was trying to hide the sock, but his pit bull mix grabbed it and wouldn't let go, enjoying a tug-of-war game.
Were you wearing this sock before this whole incident occurred? Can you imagine the thought process here?

“Oh, crap, I’m getting pulled over. Shoot, what do I do about the pot? Uhhh, uhhh” *glancing around – looks down at his feet* “Ah, a sock. Surely no one will notice that I’m missing a sock and question it. Besides, who wants to look inside a smelly sock? It’s genius!”

Why didn’t he just claim it was the dog’s?

The dog won the tussle and tossed the sock out the window, and the 32-year-old driver was indicted on drug possession charges.
Seriously, dog, that’s a party foul.

I don’t get why he was indicted on possession, the dog obviously had it and was trying to get rid of it.

Sheriff Brad Lohrey says he wished everyone traveled with their own personal drug dog.
Well, of course you do, Sheriff. Because if they did, you wouldn’t have to work as hard. Bad cop, no doughnut.

Baby name fail ... and it's not even a celebrity.

Meet my daughter 'Facebook': How one new Egyptian father is commemorating the part the social network played in revolution

An Egyptian father has decided to name his new daughter 'Facebook' to mark his country's recent revolution
I'll give you a moment to digest that.

REALLY???

Grammar Nazi note: Why the hell is there no period at the end of that sentence?

According to Al-Ahram, one of the country's most popular newspapers, the man in his 20s called Jamal Ibrahim, named his daughter after the social networking site.
He is said to have called her Facebook because he was so happy with the role played by the site in organising protests in Tahrir Square and other cities throughout Egypt.
Okay, look, I understand the sentiment here, I really do. But seriously, your sentimental moment has set your child up for years and years of explanation and ridicule.

How about Marcia, the female version of Mark, after Mark Zuckerberg who founded Facebook?

The girl's full name is Facebook Jamal Ibrahim and her family and their friends and neighbrous are reported to have gathered around the newborn, expressing their continued support for the revolution they say started on Facebook.
Not only does she have that screwed up first name, but her middle name is your first name? How egotistical are you?

Are you guys not realizing that this is cool today (to you, apparently, not so much to us normal folks out there), but the novelty will wear off in a few months. And your poor kid is saddled with this name forever. Or until she’s old enough to legally change it. (Can you do that in Egypt?)

Here’s my biggest thing – nothing on the internet lasts forever. Think about it … Myspace – hardly used anymore. Prodigy? Yeah, no one born after 1990 has a clue that used to be an ISP. So, in 5-10 years, when Facebook is no more, how are people going to respond to this wonderful, compound word you named your child?

Grammar Nazi note: Yes, that “neighbrous” is supposed to be “neighbors” (or the British version of “neighbours” ) but nope, that typo made it past the editing desk.

In Egypt there are five million Facebook users - more than any other country in the Middle East and that number rocketed over the last month as the revolution got underway.
Okay, so we get it, Facebook is more popular in Egypt than any other Middle Easy country.

There were 32,000 groups and 14,000 pages created following the January 25th revolution.
And we get, no, we know, that it started the revolution in Egypt. It’s still no excuse to abuse your poor child by naming her Facebook.

The military government has also started using Facebook to try and reach out to Egyptian youth.
Yeah, that’s probably viewed about as cool as when your mom made a Facebook page too.

Following President Hosni Mubarak's resignation graffiti was daubed across the capital city, Cairo, saying 'Thank you Facebook'.
Aww, look, that little girl is only a few days old and she’s already got graffiti up about her.

One internet blogger said: 'The internet as a whole should win the Nobel Peace Prize this year for all it's done for democracy in the Middle East/North African region, but let's not let this naming kids get out of hand.
'I'd hate for little Facebook to have to share a classroom with a little AOL, or worse a little Yahoo!'
Oh, you know someone’s already named their kid Yahoo. There’s probably a little “Internet” running around too. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least. God, I hate people.