Last night, after getting home from a road trip, I ordered a pizza. When the pizza delivery guy arrived at my door, he said, "Are you a doctor?" I sort of stared at him, confused, and said, "Uh, no," and looked at him quizzically. He said, apparently by way of explanation, "Well, you keep such a clean house."
I should note that my apartment was quite messy at the time--within the pizza guy's view at that point were an open suitcase, two empty diet coke cans, a tipped-over tote bag with stuff falling out of it, and some shoes. In no way was my house clean.
What was he talking about? What does house messiness have to do with being a doctor? And why would a pizza guy, seconds before I am about to decide on his tip, insult my housekeeping?
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Friday, May 25, 2007
Promotional items, good and bad
Sometimes, when you buy a product or donate to a cause, the company or nonprofit involved gives you free stuff to promote itself. Some of these items are good, and some annoy me.
Things I do not want to get any more of:
1. Travel coffee mugs. These are those metal mugs with plastic handles that are designed to go into car cupholders. I don't drink coffee, so I have never used these. Yet I have acquired 5 of them. They seem too nice to throw away, so I just continue to take up my extremely limited cupboard space by storing them. People who drink coffee already have them. Stop giving them away.
2. Jewelry. I donated to a cause once and was given a crappy plastic-and-metal necklace. Who is going to wear that?
3. Keychains. Everyone has a keychain already. Possible exception: value-added key-chains that have a bottle opener or (maybe) a flashlight.
4. Messenger bags. The free ones I have are poorly made, with a thin, uncomfortable strap. I'm not going to use them.
5. Buttons. What the hell am I going to do with a button?
Things I like:
1. Refrigerator magnets, especially if they're strong enough to hold up pieces of paper. They don't really take up room, but I see them every day, and I can use them. Very effective.
2. Pens. It's a little lame, but Ican always use another pen.
3. Tote bags. They're small and useful, and a cheap one works fine.
4. Tape measures. Best promotional item ever.
Things I do not want to get any more of:
1. Travel coffee mugs. These are those metal mugs with plastic handles that are designed to go into car cupholders. I don't drink coffee, so I have never used these. Yet I have acquired 5 of them. They seem too nice to throw away, so I just continue to take up my extremely limited cupboard space by storing them. People who drink coffee already have them. Stop giving them away.
2. Jewelry. I donated to a cause once and was given a crappy plastic-and-metal necklace. Who is going to wear that?
3. Keychains. Everyone has a keychain already. Possible exception: value-added key-chains that have a bottle opener or (maybe) a flashlight.
4. Messenger bags. The free ones I have are poorly made, with a thin, uncomfortable strap. I'm not going to use them.
5. Buttons. What the hell am I going to do with a button?
Things I like:
1. Refrigerator magnets, especially if they're strong enough to hold up pieces of paper. They don't really take up room, but I see them every day, and I can use them. Very effective.
2. Pens. It's a little lame, but Ican always use another pen.
3. Tote bags. They're small and useful, and a cheap one works fine.
4. Tape measures. Best promotional item ever.
The lost art of doodling
In my bar review class, they give us a fill-in-the-blanks workbook, and we sit there for 3 1/2 hours every day, filling it in. There's really no legitimate need to bring a computer to class, so screwing around on the internet to combat the inevitable boredom is not an option. Instead, I have taken to doodling in the margins of the book. However, I find myself at a loss for good doodling ideas--three years of taking notes exclusively on computers have made me forget what I used to do. I am open to suggestions.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Things fall apart
Today, within a span of two hours, the following happened:
1. My cell phone fell apart. Miscellaneous external parts of the phone began falling off, followed shortly by the snapping in half of some sort of important-looking electronic-type component.
2. The power cord for my computer fell apart. Where the cord meets the big square thing, the plastic (rubber? I don't know) came off, and broken ends of wires are now sticking out. A replacement power cord for my computer costs eighty dollars. Eighty dollars! I think I can get a non-Mac-manufactured version online for less, but still.
What is going on? Have my inanimate possessions decided to self-destruct because they sense that I am done with school and should be able to afford technological items that are less than four years old? If so, they are jumping the gun by least four months.
1. My cell phone fell apart. Miscellaneous external parts of the phone began falling off, followed shortly by the snapping in half of some sort of important-looking electronic-type component.
2. The power cord for my computer fell apart. Where the cord meets the big square thing, the plastic (rubber? I don't know) came off, and broken ends of wires are now sticking out. A replacement power cord for my computer costs eighty dollars. Eighty dollars! I think I can get a non-Mac-manufactured version online for less, but still.
What is going on? Have my inanimate possessions decided to self-destruct because they sense that I am done with school and should be able to afford technological items that are less than four years old? If so, they are jumping the gun by least four months.
A new addition to the blogosphere
Welcome, Perma-Three Seat! This moment has been a long time coming.
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