Like the Coelacanth only rarer

I have found a thing so rare that I believed that it might be only a myth or if it did exist that it was a thing long since extinct. I fear you may not believe me because of the seeming outlandish nature of my claim but I swear it's true. Every word.

I can still hardly credit it but I found...good customer service.

Wait! Don't walk away! It's true! Good customer service exists! I've experienced it and been changed by it. It was almost a religious experience.

I ordered some stuff from Amazon and they send the email telling you your package has shipped. Always very exciting. I make full use of their Track Your Package option. I love that thing. It's addicting and hypnotic. Anyway, according to their site the package was delivered yet I didn't have it. I called the post office and they tell me they don't have it and have no record of it.

Not good.

I go to Amazon's site looking for a phone number hoping against hope that I could talk to an actual human being and get some help. Silly, I know. Anyway, I found an option that said to click here to have Amazon call you now. What the hell. I type in my number and click.

My phone begins to ring immediately. Immediately.

I answer and hear a voice say please hold while we connect you with a representative. Seconds later an actual live human picks up the line and asks how he can help. I of course suspect a trick right away but I explain the problem. He checks my info and looks up the package. Within a couple of minutes he apologizes to me for my inconvenience and puts in the order again to be shipped free of charge. I didn't even get to the part where I yell and say really mean things. I didn't even get to raise my voice a little bit.

The replacement box was against my door when I got home from work. The receipt showed a charge of $0. My entire belief system was shaken down to the core. I had a problem, contacted the source and had the problem instantly corrected without argument.

Good customer service. It's real. I've seen it.

I'm shakin' it, boss

I've just heard that Paul Newman has died. I hope I don't need to go on at length about why this is a tragedy of monumental proportion. Butch Cassidy has ridden into the sunset. Eddie Felson has hustled his last. Reggie Dunlop will goon no more. Luke has finally stopped shaking the world.

A true Hollywood giant, the likes of which they can't make more of, has fallen and the world is a little dimmer today as a result. Even taking away all that he gave to movie lovers, his philanthropy alone would be enough to mourn his passing. Last I heard he'd pulled together in excess of 200 million dollars worth of charitable contributions. Wrap your mind around that.

Rest in peace Mr. Newman. There will never be another like you.

I'm looking at you, London...

A long time back Google put out a cool little thing, shocking I know, that a few of us decided to use for shits and giggles. It was Google Analytics. You use it to track traffic on your site and see who is looking and how they're looking and so on and so forth. We tooled around with it for a while and then more or less forgot about it. It's a great tool but our blogs and such don't really have enough traffic to need constant tracking.

Anyway, I remembered that it was there and went to check it. Most people that visit here use Firefox and have cable, no surprises there. Most visits come from the U.S. and from 38 total countries so far, that's pretty cool. Hmmm...what's this, the keywords that people plugged in that brought them here. This should be good for a laugh or three.

OK, let's see here, we have quite a few about the Arizona Tea label. Maybe I'm not the only one that noticed it has a fucking slave on it. Searches for books and movies and music and shows and comics that I've mentioned. Nothing strange there. Let's look a little deeper.

Thagatha photos. I don't know what that means.

Monica Bellucci chocolate. Nothing wrong with that, brother.

Things in fives. That makes sense.

Fuking in stoking. I uh, I don't know what you're trying to say to me but I don't think I like it.

Everything but your underwear. Hahaha. Good times.

Take off your socks. No. No I will not.

Take off my socks. I don't even know you!

Real torture porn. What. The. Fuck.

Vulnerable naked man. Taco?

Celebrity fishing. Really, dude? Really?

Clothes socks off gyno. Is it wrong that that one turns me on a little?

Cinemax late night hot girls. But that one doesn't. It's sad that you can't commit and search for actual porn.

Everything that got to with devil. I'm sorry, what?

Fucking I stoking. First in stoking and now I stoking? Who are you!? What are you trying to tell me!!??

Evil master of suction. I give up. You found me.

Grimmstail. Look out Grimmy, someone's looking for you.

Excuses not to take off socks. ...ew.

Gyno gown socks off. What is it with you people and socks? Seriously?

Hate engine. Mine is custom. Get your own.

He's stoking me. I don't even want to know what the hell was going on there.

How many stuff things are there. Dude. SO many!

How to use a urinal without showing your junk. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Don't be ashamed of your tiny weiner! Show it with pride!

lolgoats. Fuck you! We invented that, motherfucker!

Maple syrup lubricant. First of all how did that lead here and second, eeeeeeewwwwww!

Zombi porn. Taco?

A dozen more things about socks...get a hobby people. For reals.

Obsessive compulsive scratch even number licking disorder-cat-dog. I don't have the words to describe the level at which I do NOT want to meet this person EVER.

Zebulon banner. Why didn't I think of that!? This is the best thing ever!

Stuff to do late night in Crystal Lake. Besides getting fucking killed you mean? Not much.

Taptaptap sex porn. What the fuck are you tapping on? And stay away from my precious sex porn!

Why are some scorpios so mean? AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

So yeah, people are weird. They're apparently a bunch of sock obsessed, porn wanting, pet licking, tiny dicked freaks that should never be allowed to interact with other folk. By other folk I mean me. Keep them away from me. I'm going to go hide everything I own and buy some more locks for the door.

He just refuses to learn

I've said before and will say again that hell is hope. Plain and simple, hell is the hope of a better tomorrow that will never come. All the most vile torments of hell would lose most of their power if you could genuinely be rid of all hope that it would stop. But you see, this is hell so that won't happen. That's the nature of it. You see other people get a better tomorrow and it forces hope upon you. You see people that deserve nothing have everything and along with anger it thrusts hope into your chest because, gods damn it, why not you too?

It's hell you see?

Now you'd think I would know better. That I could break the cycle. Well, maybe you don't think that because while I share some things I tend to play it close so even if you know quite a lot about me and my own personal hell, you know only a fraction. That being the case then, I think that I would have learned by now. Learned to stop.

God, how I've tried. You have no idea how hard.

And yet.

But.

Damn it.

Here is hope again. Hounding me. Demanding attention. Forcing me to let it in against my will. Literally against my will. I don't want you here. I know what you are. And yet. But. Damn it. Here you are old friend. Old enemy. Most loved and most hated. Come on in one more time. Do your worst one more time.

See you tomorrow.

Misanthrope: mis-ahn-throhp - noun

OK, here's the thing. Maybe I am a little arrogant and maybe I do walk into every room like I'm the best thing in it but you know what? I come by my arrogance honestly and most of the time I AM the best fucking thing in the room. I have it on good authority that I really am as smart as I think I am or close enough that it makes no difference and no, I'm not exactly the type to dumb down for the huddled masses yearning to scrape together a coherent thought so the huddled masses get a little touchy from time to time.

I told you that to tell you this:

It's not my fault that you're a moron. It's not my fault that you aren't as smart as me. It's not my fault that I make you feel inferior. It's your fault. So please, in future, try your best to not to be filled with such mean spirited glee if you happen across some obscure bit of trivia that I am not overflowing with information about or some little nugget of knowledge that I couldn't write an A+ term paper on at a moment's notice. Asking me about things of this nature and then going on and on in a too loud voice about how you've found something that I don't know everything about only points out to anyone with half a brain that you're a fucking ignorant douche with enough insecurities about your own third rate intellect to fill a warehouse. The fact that you were asking me in the first place means that you didn't know and the first person you thought to come to was me.

If your life is so fucking pathetic that you get real joy from finding things that I'm not filled to the brim with information about then please, in all seriousness, go lay down in the street and wait for the solution which should be along directly. Or, as a personal favor to me, shut the fuck up you mouth breathing troglodytes because I'm not just the smartest person in the room, I'm also probably the biggest and the most prone to violence. Step carefully.

And while I'm on the subject of people and their annoying habits, I have a request for the ladies who are dieting. No one wants to fucking hear about your diet that you've been on for the last FOUR FUCKING YEARS that has resulted in you losing and regaining the same 7 1/2 fucking pounds! Here's an idea you fucking whale, next time you're shopping DON'T buy the box of Twinkies and the box of Ding Dongs and the box of Ho Hos and the nine bags of chips and oh why not one more box of Twinkies.

And you on the other side? No one wants you to hover around all day so you can tell us how many fucking points the things that we're eating are worth in your diet. I don't want to hear that my pineapples are worth five whole points with that idiot's smirk on your face because your bag of twigs and pebbles are only worth two. Here's a news flash for you, you're still getting bigger and I'm the only one here losing any weight. No one fucking cares. Shut. The fuck. Up.

Thank you.

So baffling I don't have words for it

My auto insurance company sent me a check. Not a bill, a check. Recent changes on my policy made my bill go down and they sent me a check to cover the overpayment. An insurance company sent a check. Unasked for. I am utterly confused by this turn of events. I cashed it this morning so it was definitely a real check. From an insurance company.

I think I need to have a lie down over this whole thing. But first, a couple of updates!

Toby is not thriving. He looks sickly. I moved him outside (and changed his name accordingly) to see if he'll flourish there. Let's hope or else there will be amputations.

I had a doctor's appointment last Friday and I've dropped more weight. This is good. Very good indeed.

And just for Taco, see what I got here? It's a new special edition of Dark City. SAY THAT YOU LOVE IT! SAY IT!

As you were.

Paging Dr. Clitterhouse

So yeah, not really random and not really massive updatey goodness but maybe the lovechild of those two.

LOVECHILD! NEVER MEANT TO BE!

*ahem*

Right then, I've been moved into the new place for a few weeks now and I likes it. You never can tell how much you truly missed the quiet until you get it back. The new TV is exerting some kind of strange power over me. Sometimes I have to resist the urge to just turn it on and stare at it. It might be evil. I wouldn't get rid of it for that, I'm just sayin' if I disappear that's where you should look for me, Poltergeist-Carol Ann style.

I got a big ass plant for the place now. It's a kind of palm tree that I named Toby. I'd tell you why I named it that but it's the kind of thing that's really only funny if you have no sense of right and wrong. I thought it was hysterical. It also made me realize that I need more plants.

I realized that I don't own any porn. At all. None. That can't be healthy. fett was supposed to supply me with nun porn but did he? Did he!? NO!

I still have nothing hanging on the walls. Still. I have things to hang, I just haven't put them up. I'm a lazy, lazy man.

Again with the uproar for the new Madden? No thanks. I've played Madden since the very beginning and I have no interest. One thing I've learned is that whoever the actual Madden is gaga over will be unbeatable in the game. So if you don't pick New England and you play them, they will smash you and I am NOT picking them. I got NCAA '09 instead.

Speaking of football, it's almost here. GET EXCITED, BITCHES!

Taco, your brother says you're a dirty filthy liar and he denies all knowledge of the incident in question.

I finally managed to track down and purchase the only book I didn't own by my favorite author. It's been out of print for long and long and every time I've seen it for sale, always online, it's either outrageously priced or held together with spit and hope. I got it used but in damn fine condition. I am extremely well pleased by this. A few of you can kind of imagine my level of yay over it.

After adding up my trade-ins and applying them I paid $2.16 for my copy of Spaced. So not only do I finally own it, I only paid 2 bucks for it brand new. Sometimes life forgets to shit on you and it is good.

After much begging and coercing my company has moved a bunch of us to 4 day work weeks. The savings on gas alone are more than worth the extra long four days. Plus having off every Monday does NOT suck. Lounging around reading or watching movies while everyone else is at work makes me happy in the pant covered area. If I wore pants. Which I don't. Cast off the fabric chains of the oppressor!

Lately I've been telling everyone I'm hung like an elevator button. No one else seems to think it's funny. Heathens, one and all.

How is it that there are only two weeks between the spring and autumn softball leagues? Can I get a rest!? No? Fine!

I went through my books while I was unpacking them after the move to do a great purge like I've been threatening to do for some time now. I took out 203 books which will get donated to this thing I support. I think my book buying might, might, be a bit out of hand when I can pick out 200+ books to give away and still have 7 full shelves. I probably have about a thousand left. I figure as long as I own a book I haven't read I can never die. At this rate I'll live for...ever actually.

I miss Toby.

I think a friend of mine is going to ask me out pretty soon. I've been celibate, by choice, for the last five years. I'm not sure how I feel about this whole situation. Clearly I'll have to find a way for Mario Kart to decide what I should do.

Seriously, elevator button. It's shameful.

There was other stuff I wanted to talk about but I've forgotten all of it. Ah memory, you dodgy old bird.