You Really Want a Netbook

D-Man usually gets a "big" gift for Christmas--the one thing he really wants that can be a bit pricey--and a few little things to go with it. There isn't a big gift he's been asking for this year, and I have been struggling to think of something good.

Despite endless pestering, lecturing, punishments, etc., D-Man usually gets away with doing the bare minimum in school. Getting ready to enter high school next year, it's more than time for him to step up his game.

I've heard him say how much he hates computers. This would be a bad thing, especially if you are Gen Y or younger, and increasingly, "computer illiterate" greatly increases the chances that your hopes and dreams of doing more than digging ditches as an adult will get scattered.

So I thought: netbook.

MixedReflection's Mind:  "He will have his very own device to upload his photographs (possibly leading to an interest in capturing that perfect artistic image), to conduct research (for the next science project), to write e-mails (communicating with members of the family), to learn to type well (to make homework more bearable and to increase his skills), to have his own iTune control center (so he won't download all of that doodoo music on mine), to develop spreadsheets and documents in Google Docs, etc., etc.  In any case, he will become extremely computer literate but will be 'tricked' into becoming so!"

D-Man wasn't too into this idea. He was very anti-netbook.

I worked on it with him for a while and was eventually silenced by Husband who said, "If he doesn't want a netbook, why are you trying to convince him he does?"

So I told D-Man I was dropping it. "Okay, just tell me something you would like--OTHER than a remote controlled car. I'm not spending money on that."

Less than 5 minutes later, he said, "Yeah, you know, I really do want a netbook."

D-Man's Mind:  "I will have my very own device to upload [inappropriate] photographs, to conduct research (on girls I like at school), to IM peeps from the bus, to learn to type well (oh screw that!), to have my own iTune control center (so parents won't be able to censor my selections), start my own Facebook page, etc.

Obviously D-Man and I have very different ideas about this gift and what it might be used for.

I guess the funniest thing is that yesterday I suggested to him I was thinking the netbook might not be such a good idea after all.  His reaction?

"No!!! I want a netbook!"

Perfect Gifts for Parents You Don't Like

If you really want to get back at someone you don't really like, there are a few things to add to your Christmas list for their toddlers.

What about Hungry Hippos? Guaranteed to make more noise than you would take in at a heavy metal concert.  The banging plastic parts on marbles is deadly, perfect for parents on your shiter list.

A close second is the good 'ole ant farm. I always wanted one of these, but everyone with any sense knows that a release is in the cards. At some point that baby is busting open and shedding tiny marching bodies everywhere. Before it happens, parents will go to bed knowing there are hundreds of ants in their home every night, wondering if tonight is the night when the great escape will occur.

Fish are good too--just one more thing for the parents to take care of.

Let's move onto just about any musical instrument for toddlers. It's not that music isn't fabulous for youngsters, but when they don't know what they're doing and are just at the pouncing and shaking stage, a nice junior keyboard can drive the parents mad. Along the same lines--karaoke machines for kids. Pretending you're loving that singing adds a terrific dimension to the torture.

A giant soaker water gun is one gift item I'm pretty sure was given to D-Man in his younger years by people who hated me. You see, when it's you, Husband and one little guy...and you have a giant soaker water gun in the equation...there are two people in the line of fire. One of them is yours truly. So yeah, I'd add the giant soaker to the top of your resident evil list.

After experiencing a number of these gifts first hand, I'll tell you that presents for boys and girls can also be nice treats for your senses if you have parental revenge on your mind. If you do like the parents, however, remember that anything you buy for that special kid will have a direct impact on the mental well being of his mom and dad. I'd go with socks, a nice stuffed animal, legos or erasable crayons if you want to preserve the integrity of your adult relationships.

Bags to Nukes: Recent Environmental Let Downs

It's been tough to take the news that the reusable grocery bags from Winn Dixie and Publix (among others) contain amounts of lead that aren't permissible in toys or in paint. What the hell is that all about anyway? Why is it--who is it--which regulatory authority allowed this to happen? You try to quit this mess with plastic bags by purchasing reusable items and find out they're manufactured with stuff that not only isn't green but is hardly healthy.

I'm still getting over the fact that this has happened. I realize that none of us are going to die because a banana or two was transported in one of these bags, but really? Lead in grocery bags?

Remember the excitement about biofuels?  I'm not saying they're all bad, but we've seen what corn based ethanol can do to the price of food staples around the globe. It's not good. And the actual amount of energy they produce is negligible. I wish it was different.

I frankly can't believe nuclear power has come back into the picture again as a source of "clean" energy. It's so totally clean to produce (and safe, of course) but then what happens to the radioactive waste?  Oh that's right.  We'll just keep burying it in New Mexico. That's a brilliant idea. I'm sure our scientific community is 100% sure we'll never have any seismic activity in the millions of years it will take the stuff to become inactive.

Let's go back to the safety issue for just one moment. We're totally trusting the industry and regulatory authorities who tell us that many back up processes are in place to prevent a meltdown. It just couldn't happen with today's technology, right?  I remember hearing the same thing about the oil rigs in the gulf. With all of the required inspections and safety precautions, procedures, etc., there was no way we could have a disaster harming the environment. It was completely clean and safe. Hmmm...how did that work out for us?

We're an innovative bunch here in America. The economy is trying to pick up. Many smart people are unemployed. Seems like the time is ripe for new, better ideas--the kind that actually work, the kind that are environmentally reasonable, healthy for people and the earth and that improve quality of life. I'm tired of hearing endless infomercials for half-ass solutions we're trying to bill as safe and good. Let's change that.

Dear Metro PCS:

You've been pretty good to me. I mean where else can I get unlimited everything for 2 people for $110 a month with no contract? Although it's no secret that your phones are really crappy and don't really have the features I want, it's been a good trade off. Technically, I don't really need all those features.

I have to admit though, Metro PCS, that I was pretty annoyed about what happened this weekend when one of our mutual friends in India gave me a fax number instead of a phone number when I called directory assistance.

See, I asked for the charge to be removed and I was literally transferred to 5 different people until I was finally disconnected. This was after I spent 10 minutes talking to an auto-mamma trying to reach a real life Indian.

It's not that I totally love spending time shouting at your sweet sounding auto service.  But when I've said the word "CUSTOMER SERVICE" and "REPRESENTATIVE" and "AGENT" 39 times and keep hearing a female RoboCop say "I'm sorry, I'm having trouble understanding you," a plethora of four letter words start coming out of the woodwork. 

It's not very professional of me, I know, but it's just so frustrating to have you purposely make it difficult to contact a living human being. But again, Metro, I'm getting it now. That's what's up with the cheap rates.

So the Number Three person you transferred me to (after all the auto drama) told me that in order for you to help me, I needed to recite some pass code I created 2 years ago when I first signed up for Metro PCS. Sorry, I didn't remember that. Later, after yet another person helped me cut through 98 layers of security to get the pass code, I was transferred again. 

Number Four argued with me about the charge insisting that it was "only fifty cents."   Wait...did I really hear that?  It must have been a joke.  After all, after investing half of my afternoon meeting all of your associates--both real and computer generated--it's clearly the principle of the whole thing. By the time I was finished, I would have gladly paid YOU fifty cents an hour for the time remaining before I get an iPhone if you would just stop passing me around.

I'm ashamed to admit, Metro, that you won. Basically, you totally wore me out. After speaking briefly with Number Five, holding for what seemed like an eternity and then realizing no one was on the other end of the call, I gave up. 

Thanks for clarifying why the service is so cheap. I appreciate knowing the back story. Now, what would I give to have a recording of my dialogue with your auto service.

I'm Actually Good Without Extra "Help"

When my grandmother went shopping for clothes, she loved to have someone greet her as soon as she walked in, follow her around and make suggestions about outfits and sizes, hang out with her outside of the dressing room while she tried things on, fetch another size, tell her whether the outfit was becoming on her figure, etc.

I like the part where someone greets me when I walk in the door. And that's where it ends.

I don't like it if I have to flag someone down to get help--especially if there is a hoard of employees standing around talking and not paying attention to customers--but if a sales person is on my arse every second I'm in the store, it literally drives me nuts.

Last week I ran into a store to get a few cotton tops for vacation and a sales woman continued to banter me about whether I wanted her to take them into a dressing room for me. The first time, I was like "No thank you." 

The second time (which was 1.5 seconds after I finished my response), I said "I appreciate it, but I'm just going to hold on to them while I look."

The third time she insisted, I said rather sharply, "THANK YOU but I don't know if I AM going to try them on." Of course she didn't stop there. She repeated my response in question formation, "You aren't going to try them on?"

If the shirts weren't exactly what I wanted, I would have replied, "No, and I'm not going to buy them either, thanks to the glory of your annoyingness. Good bye."

But that's a little tape rolling in my head. Our encounter ended there and thankfully, I was able to get out of there untainted by another approach.

I'm glad they didn't press me several times (like they usually do in that store) to open up a credit card. That would have been the last straw.

I wonder if my independent shopping preference is a generational thing or if I'm just weird.

Pigging out on Weird

Neighbor likes pigs. And she collects pigs. So when a couple of peeps and I were scanning some pretty bizarre things in Palmetto antique stores on Saturday, I found these and quite naturally had to purchase them for my neighbor:

Neighbor has some kiddies at home, so she may have to store these in a special location. Or explain the facts of life using this relic from...when? I'm not sure how old they actually are.

You know, "antique" stores seem to be most accurately described as "junk and old crap cleaned out of dead people's apartments" stores. Wait, "SCARY junk and old crap cleaned out of dead people's apartments" stores.

Check this out:

Ah yes, there was lots more weird where that came from. 

We perused shelves laced with items like a porcelain statue of what looked like a two-headed cat, an autographed and framed mini-poster of Wayne Newton, several JFK busts, a giant decapitated baby doll head, a wooden doorstop(?) shaped like a woman with hooves for breasts, countless paintings that looked like creations of a half-third grade artist/half-Stephen King hybrid, figurines of the ugliest dogs, cows and dancing clowns you can imagine, etc., etc.

For my untrained antique eye, the before metioned items were comical to spot along the junk-filled cubicles of beat up furniture and stands. To someone who knows what he or she is doing, there could have been a gold mine there.

However you look at it, the trip was most amusing and we had a blast. I hope the shopkeepers didn't find us too obnoxious as rings of laughter lifted from the most hidden nooks and crannies to the front of the store.

"Smells Like the Elderly"

What kind of a moron orders lipstick online from Avon? Me. That's right. The nice "mocha" color which I thought would look like...um mocha...looks like hot pink. It's beautiful, I tell you. Beautiful if you're a freaking mannequin at Old Navy.

So the other thing that really gets me is the Skin So Soft bodywash. How can you go wrong with Skin So Soft, right?  The two bottles I ordered are FIVE ounces each...perhaps enough to get a tiny child through the week--if she skips a bath every other night. The product was marketed as full sized. (And although the miniscule description actually says "5 ounces," you must have a trusty microscope to read the fine print.)

Just as a little insurance policy in case they don't publish my web review of the product, I thought I'd share it with you on Gropius:

An Ant's Head is Bigger Than This Bottle
Date: June 28, 2010

Are you joking? I could go through this entire bottle in a week. Should be marked "sample size." Pretty lousy.

Far better is this Skin So Soft review, straight from the Avon website:

Smells Like the Elderly

Date: January 21, 2010

"Not to disrespect the elderly, but the scent reminds me of pretty much every elderly woman I've ever come into contact with. The gel is great. It moisturizes very well and doesn't leave a residue on my sensitive skin. It didn't break me out, either, which I appreciate. The scent, however, is a strange mix of musk, powder and flowers. Very hard to describe. All I know is it reminded me of my grandmother and I couldn't wait to try this product in a different scent."

If only I could get this person as a regular guest poster on Gropius. What a comedian.

When Nothing Is Funny...You Can Always Go for a Diversion

This adequately covers the some of the stupidity of BP.


Unfortunately, it still doesn't solve the problem.

Big Surprise: Thanks for Listening, Honda

Thanks to all those who commiserated with my pain over a $1,000 bill at Honda recently.

I answered a standard follow up e-mail from the Honda service department about my dissatisfaction paying so much for a bizarre replacement--the now famous rear upper control arm.

Wish I had time to create a logo for the rear upper control arm...I'm picturing something that looks like a behind with an Rosie the Riveter arm coming out of it.

Anyway, I'd be a bad girl if I didn't share with you a big surprise today. I received an e-mail back from the maintenance manager who took the time to investigate and try to remedy the situation. Because of her efforts, Honda is able to get me a refund for the replacement. Are you KIDDING? Wow, someone who follows up and gets somewhere with it. Can't say how much I appreciate that. Although it's not really a third of the total bill, I can handle this. I'm grateful she took the time and I wanted to set the record straight on Gropius.

Sadly, excellent customer service is often a surprise. Even so, cheers to them! Other big surpises today:

1. D-Man is suspended for a fight again. Same situation--some kid hit the crap out of him in the school hallway and he fought back. To be continued...
2. I'm winning the lottery tonight. I just feel it.

A Big List of OTHER Things I Could Have Done With $1,000

$941.00 to be exact. Tell me, is it reasonable to pay that much for maintenance on a Honda that's only 3 years old with 50,000 miles? After you've just paid $350 less than 2 months ago for a scheduled service that was mainly supposed to include a thorough check-up on everything?

I went in yesterday to settle a troubling noise coming from the back tire area. In addition to learning that some thing called a rear upper controlled arm had come unscrewed, off track or whatever (I'm really smart about cars, as you can see), I learned that "oh by the way, you need a new battery, new front brakes, new tires (which I've already replaced once), new wipers, etc. etc.

So instead of bitching about it, which is soooo boring to read, let me take a moment to thank Honda.

Honda, thank you so much. I've really been dying to spend $1,000, and I can't think of any way I'd like to drop it more than right there with you.

But if you weren't so thoughtful to take away the choice for me, which made my life a heck of a lot easier, I'd like to list a few other things that I could have dumped it on:

1. Toping the list off would of course be any number of weekend trips. I'll put Arizona first, where dearest friend just relocated. I could totally get in to the desert. The enormity and beauty of the Grand Canyon is impressive. Like a rusty sunset. Aging over tens of thousands of years never looked so good on anyone.
2. I could soooo spend $1,000 on a single donation to any number of nonprofits that I haven't supported in the past but would like to. It's impressive how far our local organizations can make any financial contribution go--they use it to accomplish missions that serve chidren, places, wildlife so dear to us.
3. A new native plant garden for the yard. We don't use pesticides or fertilizers in our yard--they're very bad news for the health of the bay here in Sarsasota/ Bradenton. We also have some great native plants that attract birdies and wildlife. Once established, they require very little care, water or other resources. I'd love to grow that garden more than what we do a couple hundred dollars at a time every now and then.
4. Advanced camera.
5. Season tickets to the Rays for the fam.
6. New oil paint and water color supplies.
7. Any choice of about 10,000 home improvement projects.

I'll spare you the long list of additional choices.  With so many decisions to make, I'm so grateful Honda chipped in to make it all work out.

What would you do with $1,000 outside of your standard budget to randomly spend on anything?

Big and Corny vs. Big and Boring

Even in a down economy, our favorite brands are spending big money on promotion. It's a fact of life--they have to do it. Still, many of them rely on big budgets for boring, just to keep things "safe."

I'll give a gold star to the company that came up with this catchy dance number for "Turn the Tub Around," a new ad campaign for I Can't Believe It's Not Butter. It's so corny, but the guy dancers are hilarious. The effort and the humor is enough to make me want to reach for it on the shelf instead of my typical choice.  And it sticks.

It's not the most genius thing I've ever seen, but I'll give 'em an "A" for effort in the corny category--certainly better than boring. What do you think?

Not interested. Did you hear that?

Seriously. Stop calling. YESTERDAY.
I get it that times are tough and sales people are operating on overdrive trying to compensate. Whether you’re selling tax services by standing in a Statue of Liberty outfit waving on the street corner or selling yourself as a strong candidate for a job position that’s entertaining 468 resumes, it stinks.

But sometimes they just cross the line by continuing to call and call. And call.

…And call.

I love our IT guy at work—he’s very thorough, documents everything and has a way of writing very long-winded e-mails to explain the minutia of a situation like no one’s business. Today for kicks he shared a couple versions of an e-mail he directed to an overaggressive copier sales person who’s been stalking him. I thought you’d enjoy the original version. Unfortunately, it ended up getting trimmed a bit before sending, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

The company name has been substituted to protect…oh I’m not really sure why, but:

“Hi. I'm currently not interested in meeting with you. If/when we decide to pursue copier pricing options, sometime down the road, I know that [Stalker Copier Co.] is a player in this market segment, and we may or may not call [Stalker Copier Co.] to discuss pricing.

By the way, I've received your numerous voice mail messages, too. I tried returning one of your calls many weeks ago, but it appears that [Stalker Copier Co.] doesn't have an after hours answering machine. If this is case, I highly recommend that you get one as it will improve your customer service. There's nothing more annoying than taking the time to call a company, who's been nagging me nonetheless, and then have the phone ring and ring endlessly so that I have to try to remember to call back at the magic time when I might be graced by someone answering the phone. That turned me off right there. To put the burden on the prospect to have to try and remember to call back at the right time just doesn't sound like a company that's very serious about taking care of people. And heaven forbid that I was a customer trying to place a service call! Now if this is not the case, your answering machine must have been on the fritz the morning that I called back.


One statement in your message below really stands out:


"We don't engage in the high pressure selling tactics for which our industry is renowned."


Are you kidding me? [Stalker Copier Co.] exemplifies the epitome of high pressure copier sales! You've left me message after message. And when you perceived that I didn't attempt to return your call, you tried making a bank shot off of the receptionist. And when that angle didn't work, you tried an end run through the facilities manager. Come on! If high pressure copier sales were a municipality, you would be the mayor (or at least a council member)! Thanks for the chuckle!



Sincerely,


Stalkee



Yeah it’s time to quit. But I have a feeling, she could call again. There are still two days left in this week.

Peep Eaters & Special K Lovers Beware

Today I saw a commercial suggesting that a bowl of Special K "Chocolatey Delight" cereal is a profoundly satisfying substitute for chocolate ice cream. First the television actress stared at the scrumptious carton in the freezer long enough to burn the image and the idea of ice cream in my mind for the next few hours. Then she turned, smiling, to a bowl of flakes with what looked like rabbit turds in it. Not very effective, Special K marketing execs.


It really gets me thinking about nasty looking foods and how they’re marketed, especially around Easter. So here’s a good SAT question for you:

"Special K Chocolatey Delight" is to "appealing" as "Easter peeps" are to _______.

Edible. The answer is edible.

Frankly, I cannot think of anything more repulsive than a peep.

I hope you still love me after this. Forgive me readers, for I have sinned. The National Geographic Peeps Contest (yes, it's for real--check it out) has inspired me to list the Easter confectionaries that make me want to blow chunks. Among them I cite:

1. Peeps (I'll put them at #1.)

2. Cadbury eggs (What the hell IS that crap in the middle?)

3. Jelly beans (I know, this could classify me as un-American.)

4. Gummy anything (Yes, you are actually consuming fishing lures.)

Maybe it makes me boring, but honestly, I’m just a chocolate girl when it comes to candy. And I just don’t think the damn Special K cereal can substitute.

Unfortunately, another calorie-induced holiday is upon us. I’ll be hanging out on the other side of Florida at my parents' house and hoping this away-from-home Easter (combined with the fact that D-Man is now 13) will diminish my obligatory $30 pocket emptying exercise on the candy aisle. Don’t take it personally, Easter Bunny.

By the way, if you dare to go to the Peeps website, make sure the volume is turned to a moderate level. Flanders is looking at me like “Damn you! It’s loud. It’s annoying. And I’ll never get this out of my head!”

If you make it out of there alive, you will find Peep Fun Facts, Peep Recipes and Crafts, even a Peep Fan Club. Who knew? The one thing you won’t find is a list of ingredients. And how long the human body is naturally preserved after death if you’ve eaten more than 10 Peeps in your life. Mmmmm. Mighty fine thought.

Are you a Peep eater? I want to know.

Visions of Love

Valentines Day. I’ve always loved it. Being a creature of inherent and deep seated romantic inclination, I view Valentines as an encouraging ticket for unexpressed love to be bold and daring in its exciting infancy and for familiar love to do something out of the ordinary to renew the spark of eternal possibility. Ahhhh….

Unfortunately, my loyal husband hates the day and considers it an abomination created by the Hallmark company.

So instead of talking about anything special we do [not] do, I thought I’d take you on two mini-Valentine journeys—journeys of crap and suck cards. What does this mean? Let me explain.

1. What a crappy Valentines. I saw a link to a story on NPR website this morning about a farmer who designed a half mile heart in the newly fallen snow for his wife. Oh how sweet! Sweet manure that is. Yes, the heart was made with manure. Don't believe me? Check out the Albert Lea Tribune for the full story, where this photo came from:

2. “You suck.” For some unknown reason, in the past Husband has twice ordered flowers for his mother from a very well-known (and substandard) national company called something like Fro Plowers (just substitute the right letters). Why do I not want to spell out the company name? The last time I blogged about them, Google Ads were generated that spewed promotions for the company on my blog for like 3 weeks afterwards.
   
   Anyway, back to the point…they screwed up so badly last time, Husband received a free flower order. This year, he tried to use it to order Valentines flowers for me with a card that read “Fro Plowers sucks.” They refused to have that recorded on the card. Oh well, it’s the thought that counts, right? If you can’t have the sweetness of thoughtful manure, at least you can have some humor.

Wishing all Gropius readers something a little special this Sunday. Happy Valentines to you.

Stress and Shopping: A Happily Married Couple

I hate admitting my love for shopping because I also hate stereotypes--like "all women love to shop," "Americans are materialistic," blah blah. And sometimes I hate shopping. During these times, the mall is the last place on earth I would like to see or be seen. I go through phases. But for the love of Pete, when I'm in the midst of stress, I loooove to shop. 

How can I deny Talbots when they have a great skirt that was formerly $119 and is now $30?  Maybe it's just the fabric I like.

Can I say no to Calvin Klein when a pair of tweed pants is half off?  And honestly, if that polka dot dress wasn't in my tiny little closet, I don't know what would be.  I also had a half-baked excuse...nothing I owned would have been suitable for that luncheon. (Just a small fib I told myself.)

I also scored a nice pair of black boots (plether of course) and a few other miscellaneous items.

Being the analytical-of-oneself dork that I am, I've often mused about why I enjoy shopping at times. It probably symoblizes "new" when I'm in the midst of tiresome issues that must be worked through to finish a project. Or a feeling of abundance when I'm feeling wiped out from the rest of the world.  Interesting. At least I'm aware of it.

It's Saturday here...finally. It's going to be rainy, providing a good excuse to stay inside and slow the hell down. I have a good book, a sweet pooch, nice family and a bed that's begging me to hang out there today. Now if Husband can get that rain barrel hooked up before the sky drops out, we'll all be in good shape.

Gifts for Toddlers

Husband was being a nice little Husband, putting some things that had just come out of the dryer into piles as we were both scrambling to hang up the day and get to bed. I do the laundry, and of course handle that big boy of a dryer which obviously has been working over time on special belongings.

Husband:  Pointing to a new Ann Taylor jacket shown below with "big girl sweater" for comparison, "Does this need to be stretched out or something? It looks a little small."

Gropius: "Nooooooooooooooo!!!!"

Husband: "What?"

Gropius: "What do you mean "what?' I just shrunk the crap out of it!!! ...And therefore, it cost me $30 each time I wore it."

Husband: "I thought it was, like, supposed to look like that...maybe a little bigger after it got stretched out."

Gropius: "That is truly flattering, Husband, but I stopped being able to fit into doll clothes when I was 12 months old."

Husband: "I'm out of here."


Poor Husband. Classic case of killing the messenger.

Gropius: (from one room to the next)  "...Hmmm....maybe our 4 month old niece can wear this. I'll get a package together."

Top 10 Missing Apps on the iPhone

1. An app that generates an additional 2 days for every standard weekend.

2. An app to automatically whisk away songs stuck in your head for more than 3 days, like certain tunes from The Sound of Music, anything from Hall and Oats, and that song that starts out with “Heard it from a friend, who heard it from a frii-eeend who, heard it from another you’ve been messin’ around…”

3. An app connecting my phone to Bono’s. Come on, just give me 5 minutes…okay, 2 tops.

4. An app to turn spammers and computer virus developers into 3 legged spiders with herpes.

5. An app that would immediately let me know exactly how bad it is when Husband starts out a sentence with “Now don’t freak out, but…”

6. An app that is so cool that it is too cool to be called an “app.” I’m so over that word.

7. Obviously, an app to help me predict the future. Why haven’t they thought of this yet?

8. An app that can sense whether a soup of any kind was really made with chicken stock. I’ve got to be careful, okay.

9. Of course, an app to detect whether the person I’m talking to is actually listening, or doing 4-9 other things simultaneously.

10. And finally, an app to tell me the name and location of that Anonymous poster from a while back. Hell no, I’m not still thinking about that. What kind of dweller do you think I am?

What did I miss here?  By the way, I don't even have an iPhone, but feel like I do with the market share of commercials consumed by Apple. For all I know, these could be existing apps.

One Totally EASY Thing You Can Do to Reduce Waste

Today I felt like I did a lot around the house but accomplished little, except making a mess. Husband is less than pleased with the way I strung the lights on our back porch.  I'm sure the dog poop in the backyard won't mind the drooping pattern.  (Hardly a dog poop joke, J. Bern, but still I'm keeping your fascination in mind.) 

Husband put up new blinds, I broke a few ornaments and together, we found that more than enough outdoor lights just don't work anymore. So I'm obsessed with where all of the old and/or broken stuff goes. I'm feeling more and more guilty whenever I throw something away, because I can picture it (multiplied by the same disposables from every American) laying in a miserable landfill somewhere.

I received a short rainbow of light from Sarasota Audubon Society today when they posted a great blog on how to eliminate your phone book mailings. (If you're reading a blog and you don't use the Internet to find phone numbers, it could be time for a serious change for you.)  Here's what I swiped from their blog:

With the internet & electronic phone books, you may want to “opt out” of receiving a phone book on your front porch. In the USA alone the 540 million directories represent: 19 million trees for paper; 1.6 billion pounds of paper waste; 7.2 million barrels of oil (not including delivery); 268,000 cubic yards of landfill; 3.2 billion kilowatt hours of electricity consumption.

It’s not always easy to opt out and you may have to verify your request annually with each directory provider since these companies collect advertising dollars for every book they give away. Here are a few resources:

• Verizon (800) 888-8448 (press 2)
• Yellowbook (800) 929-3556 (press 3)
• The Real Yellow Pages (866) 326-7200 (press 0) (or just click here)

It only takes a few minutes and feels pretty good. Plus, no more huge and skanky phone books taking up space on your shelves.

Holiday Shopping: The Fright, The Flight & The Glory

Don't get me wrong--I love, absolutely LOVE, buying gifts for people. But something about holiday shopping fills me with fear. It's the fear that I'm not picking out something spontaneously exceptional but something that will just work for the obligation.

I hate that and then find myself standing in line wondering, "What in the name of Sweet Pete am I doing here with this mediocre selection?"  I totally want to run.


But every now and then, a great find at the right price with the right inspiration appears before me like a revelation. Don't laugh, but honestly the best thing I've discovered this season is a stocking stuffer sort of prize for my three year old nephew. Yes, it's the Grow a Frog. How can you go wrong with this?  Hell, I want one. 

If only they would make a Grow a Conscience for the not so evolved people we must deal with on a daily basis. Maybe next year...

Are you SERIOUS, Hammacher Schlemmer?

So we just got their holiday catalogue today. Thought I’d share some strange finds with you, just in case you’re stumped seeking a holiday gift for that special canine.

First, the barking deterrent disguised as a bird house…because most dogs are so smart that if the high frequency-emitting device came in a “regular” container, it totally wouldn’t work. They’d be on to it in seconds. They’ll never figure out the birdhouse.

Second, here is a gift for people who (a) are lazy and (b) have no freaking clue that dogs love to fetch because people who talk like happy babies are at the other end of that stick. (Well, except maybe the legendary yellow lab of my youth, Jerome, who sometimes needed some “alone time” to process all of his deep thoughts.) It’s the Automatic Canine Fetch Machine. Isn’t that sweet? This gift allows you to completely ignore your best friend.

It should come with a t-shirt for your dog too: “I defend this house and all I get is this automatic fetching machine.”

And finally, the Canine Treadmill. For people who are just too freaking lazy to walk their dogs. I can't even bring myself to post the photo here. Might get the blog shut down by PETA.