Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Giggle... but I'm just a girl

Think it would be a simple process, no?
It would be had I some testes.
But, alas, I do not, and therefore, in attempting to price out a set of snow tires and rims for my vehicle, I discovered that indeed, we have not come a long way, baby.
Four shops to call — three went without a hitch. And wouldn’t you know it, the only shop that I found difficulty dealing with was also the only shop at which a woman answered the phone.
Same question posed to all four shops: “I’m trying to price out a set of snow tires and wheels for my car. What have you got?”
All the answers came back, a marginal variation in price, but not much.
And then the final call, and the woman answering the phone sounded confused: “Do you want tires and wheels,” she asked.
“Yes,” was the reply.
“Alright, I’ll call you back.”
About 10 minutes later, true to her word she calls and quotes a figure that is about half the cost of the other shops.
“That doesn’t include wheels, does it,” I ask her.
“That’s just tires,” she said.
“I need wheels,” I remind her.
“I’ll call you back with that,” and click, she hangs up.
Then, upon returning from lunch break I see the voicemail light flash, flash, flashing red.
Instead of the confused female voice, it is a male’s voice; Al’s to be exact.
And sitting down at the desk, phone perched against my ear, I listen to him dither on for a good four minutes, explaining to me that, indeed, wheels and rims are the same thing, and that I’ll need tires if I’m to purchase them. Do I have tires, he wondered.
Just another day in the life of a person without testes.
Now I can boast that A. I know the difference between tires and wheels, and B. I know the shop in which I’ll never spend money.
Thanks, tips.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

How much to lease a hankie?

Window-shopping rarely makes me cry.
Scratch that. The only time window-shopping makes me cry is if it is conducted in front of a bakery. That much delicious cake in one location can make the toughest grown woman weep, for shizzle.
But, for the most part, window-shopping is relatively harmless. Often one doesn’t even recognize they’re doing it. Like bum-looking. Apparently I have a problem. Apparently I am a compulsive bum looker. But that’s another story for another day.
Today, however, window-shopping became painful. A lump developed in the throat, the eyes started to cloud — similar to the reaction I have to every episode of Friday Night Lights. Good show.
Leaving the gym this morning I happened to peek into the porthole of easyhome. For those who are unaware, easyhome is a store in which you can lease furniture and appliances. The store’s motto explains it all: Easyhome — get exactly what you want, for as long as you want.
Treat the dining room set as a car, drive it for a while, spill spaghetti on the seat cushions, make sweet, sweet love on its top, whatever. And then, when the terms of the lease are through, you just bring it right on back, trade up so to speak, and get that new table, the fancy one. Maybe this time you can afford the pine instead of the particle board. Taking it back makes so much sense. Think of the cash you’ll save on Lysol wipes, for one.
So, that dining room set will cost you maybe 30-bucks a month and after 72 months you might actually be able to buy it out. Think of the savings!
The reason this wandering and sweaty journalist nearly began to weep in the window was because she spotted something so pathetic, more pathetic than the dining room table, the child’s bunk bed, the microfibre sectional. What this reporter saw was large and shiny, had giant speakers and a fancy, colourful display. It was a home stereo and you could lease it for the low, low price of $7 per month.
You can’t even buy a foot long sub from subway for $7, but you could have your very own (leased) stereo, pumping the tunes through your leased apartment. But wait; do they lease the CDs too? Nope, but they lease computers so you can download tunes illegally and then listen to them on your leased stereo.
Who are these people who lease stereos? I don’t even understand the purpose of leasing a couch when you can just go to the Brick and buy one without making a payment on it UNTIL 2009!!! Why lease a couch when you can have one for free UNTIL 2009?
I do understand the need for a couch. It’s impossible to welcome couch surfers into your home without one, and it’s tough eating in front of the leased TV if you don’t have a place to park your butt. And speaking of butt, if you lease a couch and use it frequently, it’ll stop perverts like me from staring at your derrière.
But do you need the stereo? Really? Damn that shiznit makes me sad.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

Tacky, as in sticky, as in I hate some people

Cat paw prints on a clean car.
Bullet holes.
A golf ball protruding through a rear window.
All of these things are, apparently, frigging hilarious.
Why are people spending thousands of dollars on their cars and then bedecking them with ridiculous adhesives? Wouldn’t the golf ball detract from the overall look of the pricy minivan? The bullet holes take away from the shine of the $70,000 diesel truck? The cat paws dim the glow on that glorious electric blue PT Cruiser?
What’s next? I’ll tell you what’s next. I’m in the process of designing a Wash Me sticker, it’ll be big and scribbly, and it will look like it has been authentically, digitally scrawled into equally authentic-looking grime.
Then, I’m going to get the patent for a bird crap sticker. And this won’t be any bird crap, this will be bald eagle-sized crap, maybe even great blue heron-sized, falling-from-about-3,000-feet crap. Oh, maybe I’ll also get the birds-eating-cherries crap, and you can buy dozens of the little suckers and coat your car with them. Hilarious.
Then, just for kicks, I’m going to get that drove-the-Coquihalla-mid-winter, rock chip for you to put right smack in the middle of the windshield.
I’m literally dying laughing.
Once I’ve perfected these stickers, I might move on up to the vomit sticker, you know, the night out with the buddies, and thank god I rolled down the window sticker.
And after that who knows. I’ve been discussing the idea of an overall road dust sticker. Trouble is, you actually need to wash the vehicle so the adhesive sticks properly.
There’s always the possibility of the parked-under-a-really-sappy-tree sticker, and the hit by the snowplow sticker, but those have to be worked on by a team of scientists. Ideally those add-ons would be texturized so as to give an authentic representation.
But before that, there might be the parked-too-close-to-the-buggy-rack-at-Superstore sticker — imagine this, a nice white streak of paint to strategically place along the front bumper. People will stop to look, they won’t even be able to stand straight it’ll be so funny. They’ll actually ache for four days after laughing at that sticker. What an ab workout.
Finally, as the piece de resistance there will be the ticked-off-some-guy’s-girlfriend-who-got-drunk-and-keyed-obsenities-into-the-hood-of-the-car sticker.
By the time I’m done, people will wonder why they ever bothered with the Garfield tails stuck in the closed car doors. They’ll marvel at the fact actually had the audacity to place the I Break For Bingo bumper stickers on their rears.
It’s all about stickers people, and since there’s no cure for tacky, I’ll likely make a mint.