Psyche Test for the 21st Century: What your WishList Says About You.

11 Dec
Glenn Beck's Amazon WishList by NewCorpse.Com

It can't be all bad if even the crazies are doing it. Right?

It is a fact: every one of my single friends out there has contemplated creating a gift registry for herself (á la Carrie on Sex & The City) so that her friends (whose showers and weddings and births she’s celebrated) will have an opportunity to balance the scales and occasionally recognize her milestones with a little something she’d like.

Well, fortunately, Amazon has a plug-in for their website that allows customers to capture ANYTHING on the web and add it to their Amazon Wishlist. Clever, Amazon.

I’m a believer in the Wishlist. Mainly so I can track my impulses for months before pulling the trigger on a purchase, but also so that if someone is struggling to find me a gift, they can get a sense of what I’d truly appreciate.

Seems innocent enough to create such a list, but remember: your WishList (like pretty much everything online) is searchable. By potential employers.

Why would that matter, you ask? Well, a friend recently told me about a candidate his company was interviewing. She looked good on paper and everyone she had met with liked her. When it came to the final stage in the process, the VP of HR did a quick google search and landed on her Amazon WishList, which – we shall say – did not reinforce the image she had put out there during her interviews.

That got me to thinking… what does my WishList say about me? And would it cost me a job?

Interestingly, when I was adding items to my WishList, I wasn’t aware of any themes. Yet, in revisiting the list in its entirety, certain, um, patterns start to emerge. Like: Apparently I’m cheap. Or have a high degree of guilt associated with buying nice things. Because almost every item on my list is accompanied by a comment I wrote along the lines of, “Yes. This is expensive. But it will last forever.”

I especially like one entry for a bracelet, in which I not only point out that it’s expensive, but then also offer tips on how to find it cheaper. “Don’t pay full price! Monitor eBay. Only buy it if you can get a good deal.” I’m not even sure who I’m offering this advice to, because – to my knowledge – I don’t have any WishList followers.

Other observations? I have shampoo and lotion on my list. Is this normal? For people to include toiletries on their WishLists? Maybe I’ll go one step further and start using it to create an online grocery list each week. How fun would it be to visit someone’s WishList and see that they’d like chicken stock, a bag of carrots and detergent?

I could only handle so much self-analysis, so I decided to look for some odd items on Amazon that I could’ve included on my list but didn’t, to make myself feel better. And I learned a few things…

  • Did you know you can buy Cremation Urns (and corresponding necklaces that allow you to wear your loved one’s ashes) on Amazon? Per the reviews, they are quite a good deal. I feel sorry for the people who have had to buy so many urns they  now comparative shop for them.
  • When you search “Adult Diapers” on Amazon, the most common item in your search results is “neoprene lunch totes.” Is this some kind of well-kept senior secret? Those would-be retirees aren’t bringing their lunch to work, they’re carrying a disposable toilet with them? Smart.
  • We’ve all seen “wall art” – those images and words that people apply to their walls for a graphic effect. This by far has to be the most bizarre image I’ve seen. I think it will look fantastic right over my bed. No, seriously – in what context was this invented, and does anyone ever buy it?
  • You can buy a 12-pack of fake mustaches for under $10. I’m tempted to add them to my WishList just to leave someone scratching their head when they think they have me figured out.
  • And if you’ve never visited this product to read the customer reviews, you must. It is the best free comedy you can find on a major e-tailer. This is my best guess regarding their market segmentation for this product:

Pie Chart showing Amazon sales of infamous wolf shirt
What does YOUR WishList say about you? Other than that your middle name should be Greedy McGreederson for expecting people to give you gifts?

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Just another hot Saturday night, out on the town.

7 Dec

His & Hers: Saturday Night Fashion

Apparently, I am officially Old As Shit. I hadn’t realized this until Alan and I – desperate to watch the MSU/Wisconsin championship game this Saturday – ventured to the bar next to my condo.

Quick back-story: I don’t own a television. It’s usually not a big deal, but when there’s a live sporting event (that determines if your team will go to the Rose Bowl), the system kind of breaks down. To his credit, Alan tried to be cool about missing the game (It’s OK, I’ll watch the DVR of it when I get home in the morning), but he’d had a pretty stressful Saturday, so I thought an attempt was at least in order.

“Let’s go see if Local 16 has it on. If so, we’ll order a drink and sit at the bar to watch it.” Alan seemed enthusiastic, so we both pulled on hoodies and headed out. Mind you, only minutes before we’d been sitting around in pajamas (by which I mean men’s t-shirts and boxer shorts) watching something on Netflix, so our idea of dressing up for a Saturday night out meant adding shoes and hoodies. Klassy, with a K.

So we rolled into Local 16, and after a few minutes, we gathered that no one sitting at the bar actually cared what football game was broadcast, so we took control of the remote and changed the channel. We Are Sparta!

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She has (Photoshop) skillz to pay the billz.

6 Dec

Anyone has been reading PithyPants for a while is familiar with my sister. She has few boundaries and a twisted sense of humor. She’s the reason I had to categorize all my work friends in Facebook and block my Wall so they couldn’t read what she posted. Because – while funny – she’s can also be a bit of an HR disaster.

Ironically, in person she’s very sweet and polite. But online? She’s a menace. Especially because she knows Photoshop.

One of her recent amusements has been to take photos from my Facebook account and Photoshop them to subtly insinuate that I’m either a) pregnant or b) have a baby. It started in the wake of my visit to Michigan in August, when I had my arms crossed in a family photo so she stuck a baby in them.

Knowing that I don’t have a single maternal bone in my body and would rather hold a kitten, this tickled her.

Since then, she’s become increasingly subtle. Here are a few examples:

Baby Bump and Cankles, brought to you by Photoshop. And Alicia.

Stop staring at me like that. You'll make my baby cry.

It's hard to even sneak a bite with this second mouth to feed!

This last week, she shifted approaches. I received a SuperStar award at my company and a number of colleagues posted messages on my Facebook Wall alluding to my SuperStar status. My sister, being both pesky and curious about it, set about congratulating me in a way that only a sibling can:

"Congratulations, SuperStar!"

Oh, I look like I won an award all right. And like I’ve left my helmet just outside the frame.

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Make your list. Check it twice. Then check it again.

3 Dec

I generally pride myself on being a pretty thoughtful gift-giver. I try to pay attention throughout the year when someone mentions a guilty pleasure or item they’re coveting. There is little more satisfying than seeing a person completely surprised by something they can’t even remember saying they wanted.

Clearly, a preface like that can only mean one thing, right? That I am an absolute, utter jackass. Let me explain.

My good friend Betsy came over for dinner on Wednesday. The last time I saw her was a few weeks ago, when we celebrated our birthdays. It’s become something of a tradition to make dinner together and exchange gifts.

The thing is, other than the year I had postage stamps printed featuring a photo of her dog, I always come up short when trying to think of creative gifts for her. She already HAS a lot of the things I would naturally think to give her, so I often find myself “giving an O’Connell* Gift,” as my family calls it.

[An O’Connell* Gift is when you give someone a present that you would like yourself. We call it this because as a high schooler, my friend Ryan O’Connell’s brother – drawing his pre-school cousin’s name in their annual gift exchange – gave her a subscription of Sports Illustrated. Yeah.]

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Cheaper than therapy.

30 Nov

Last night I was fairly stressed out about work when I went to bed. The result?

Nope. You weren't there. Whew.

A never-ending dream that I was one of the finalists on American Idol. We had thirty minutes to choose a song (from a selection of ten options), practice it, then perform it live on television. Unfortunately, I didn’t know ANY of the song options. I’d heard a few of them before, but not well enough to even guess at the lyrics convincingly. And also? All the songs were originally performed by men in falsetto, which put them out of range for my limited voice.

I sat bolt upright in bed at 2am, heart racing and sweating.

Know how I calmed myself down? By replaying the dream in my head and realizing the Simon Cowell had been no where to be found, so it couldn’t possibly have been THE American Idol. Oddly, that put me at ease – at least enough to fall back asleep.

Two hours later – I sat up in bed again. Because Simon wasn’t on the last season of Idol. 

But rather than panicked, for some odd reason, this realization caused me to feel like I’d solved an Encyclopedia Brown mystery. (Remember those? A squirrel can’t BACK down a tree! Ah ha!)

And yes, I realize this post violates two rules of interesting writing: 1) It makes no sense; 2) It bores you with a dream.

Sorry. What can I say? I didn’t sleep well.

I never claimed I could sing the phonebook.

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