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Butchers make odd bedfellows.

23 Aug

If you’re not familiar with Groupon, it’s a site that has one deal each day. You typically spend a certain amount of money to purchase the coupon, then receive twice that value in goods/services when you use the coupon. It’s awesome.

Anyway, part of my morning ritual is to visit the site and see if I’m interested in the deal. Today’s featured business struck me as odd:

No… don’t get me wrong. The meat sounds great. But check out the “Highlights” section… I’m just wondering how NHL and NFL Jerseys factor into a butcher shop? Or, how many people swing into Springfield Butcher looking for a good New York Strip and end up impulsively buying a Giants jersey instead.

Because meat and jerseys go together like peanut butter and couches.

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In that case, I wouldn’t classify it as an emergency.

10 Aug

My good friend Karen recently started working as a 911 dispatcher in Chicago.

Today, her Facebook status relayed the following exchange between her and a caller.

Caller: There’s a man sleeping on a bench in the park. He looks a mess and his pants are following down.

Karen: Do you have any further description?

Caller: Well, his junk is all out.

Karen (trying to maintain professional decorum): So he is exposing himself?

Caller: <Silence>

Karen (as it slowly dawns on her): Ohhhhh. You mean his belongings…

I love that I have a friend who immediately made the leap from “his junk is all out” to “he’s exposing himself?” because that’s exactly where my mind would’ve gone.

Except my response probably would’ve lacked her professionalism:

“The twig, the berries or both? I need you to be more specific, ma’am.”

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Three Reasons I don’t use Google AdSense to Make Money

4 Aug
  1. I don’t have enough people reading my blog to commoditize it. I’m pretty sure I would earn – at best – pennies each month with my current traffic. The last time I made that little money was when I was in fourth grade and my dad paid me to a) monitor the protozoa growing in test tubes in our basement, or b) read off the letter grades from his grade book to him so he could enter them into a complicated database he had built on our Apple IIE to compute students’ final grades automatically. (You can bet your ass there will be a separate post about those money-making ventures – along with my days hocking veggies out of my wagon, throwing ground chuck out a window at a homeless dog or sorting Biology II lab drawings according to artistic skill – all for my financial enrichment.)
  2. I don’t like looking at ads.
  3. And most importantly… I’m pretty sure the logarithm that Google uses to match ads to content based on key words would serve up a dose of Truth I’m not quite willing to face, as evidenced by Alan’s friend’s blog, which featured the following ad sandwiched between a post about his new house and another about breasts:

As a side note, I’d like to point out that this was his LAST post on this blog, dated October 2009. Which means that Google’s AdSense was a party pooper, suggesting Matt check into rehab at the SouthCoast recovery… where he has never been heard from again. It’s like buzz kill, but for a blog. Blog-kill. You heard it here first, folks.

I rest my case.

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Again, THIS is how people find me?

28 Jun

Today’s three google searches that led people to my blog:

  • wow chips warning label
  • fail motto’s <sic>
  • are kashi bars causes of anal leakage

Seriously? Does this mean that if I ever become famous for blogging, it will only be within the poop community? (Whatever THAT is. I don’t even know, but I think I’d have banner ads sponsored by IBD medications… which, if you Google them – as I just did – you will find all seem to have “ass” as part of their commercial name. Ironic, no?)

Anyway, I kind of wish I had an Advice Column, because I would LOVE some details on that third person who got super specific about his supposed connection between Kashi and leakage. Here’s what I think his letter would read:

Dear Pithypants,

I’m hoping you can help me, because I fear there is a causal relationship between eating Kashi bars and crapping myself at work without realizing it. Can you please confirm that this is, in fact, the case?

Sincerely,

Perhaps Out Of Possibilities (Poop)

My response would be:

“Depends on how you tried to insert it. More details please.”

And yes, that is why I will never have a famous blog. Because nothing 12-year olds say is riveting.

Wow. Who knew it was enough of a problem that someone started a group?

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I’m learning restraint: Unposted Facebook Statuses

13 Jun

This week was a busy one, which explains my absence from this blog  for so long. Monday I settled on my new place and I had movers scheduled to move the bulk of my stuff on Friday. I was working this week, so during my off-hours, I split time hastily shoving things in boxes at my old place or trying to bleach every surface in sight at my new one.

Needless to say, there was little sleep and a lot of swearing and wine involved. I didn’t have as much time to update Facebook as usual, but if I had, these are the posts I would’ve written:

  • Just met the neighbor who lives directly above me. Should I be concerned that his first question was, “This might be personal, but which bedroom are you planing to sleep in?”
  • Bike racks at Trader Joe’s overfloweth. Is this in direct reaction to BP?
  • Interesting. I forgot to pack my plunger. (Not that I needed it, just noting its absence. Seriously, shut up.)
  • Dear God, I hope that is my neighbor’s washer on the spin cycle.
  • It’s one thing to make a Firefly Arnold Palmer if you think you’re meeting friends to watch the World Cup. It is entirely another when that ends up being your drink of choice while biking around town.
  • Just successfully caulked my bathtub. Now to get dried off and put some clothes on.
  • Honey: if your ass is as big as a picnic table, you really shouldn’t wear tight plaid shorts.
  • John Travolta: We get that you can fly a plane. But is it really necessary to wear a pilot’s uniform? I think your family will know who is in charge without the hat, dude.

On second thought, perhaps I’m a nicer person when life gets busy and I can’t find an outlet for my stream of consciousness. Perhaps the world doesn’t need my mind’s play-by-play narration.

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