Wanna Buy a Couch?

Dear "Tom",

Thank you for your interest in purchasing the couch and loveseat I recently posted on craigslist. However, our recent interaction has left me with some questions. I'm hoping you will be able to clarify these things for me.

Well, actually, I have one big multi-part question for you. What was the purpose of asking me for exact measurements of the couch and loveseat, exchanging multiple emails with me for details of color and condition, then setting an appointment with me to pick up the couches if you had no intention of showing up? Alternatively, if we assume arguendo that you intended to show up, the question I wish to have you answer changes: why didn't you have the common decency to call or email and let me know you'd changed your mind?

It's not that I refused another sale because you said you were coming to pick up the couches-- I'm acting in self-interest here. What really pisses me off about this is that you wasted my time. It was a gorgeous Sunday afternoon, we have a friend visiting us, and we sat around waiting for you because you were too inconsiderate to take 20 seconds out of your day to let me know that you wouldn't be showing up. If the situation had been reversed, if you had made an appointment with me and showed up here and knocked on my door, only to find that no one was here, would you not have been terribly angry with me? Perhaps you believe that your time is more vaulable than mine. I assure you that is not the case.

In conclusion, you are a jerk. I hope you get stood up on your next 10 dates.

Sincerely yours,

Katze

********

Dear "Angel S."

Thank you for your interest in purchasing the couch and loveseat I recently posted on craigslist. The asking price is $150, as I noted in my posting. I am willing to entertain a lower offer, but the key here is that YOU make the next offer. Sending me an email with the question "How cheap can I get it?" is not upholding your end of this transaction. I've already made my offer to you: a couch and a loveseat for $150. Make me a counteroffer and I will let you know if I can accept it.

Sincerely,

Katze

*****

Dear "Brad Farr":

Thank you for your interest in purchasing the couch and loveseat I recently posted on craigslist. Your recent correspondence has been reviewed and we have prepared the following response to your inquiries:

Yeah. Right.

Seriously, did you think that I was really going to send you my banking information over email so that you could "prepare the check transfer"? Furthermore, even if you had not lead off with such an obvious gambit, ordering me to "[t]ake immediately down [my] posting as [you] are now the purchaser" is a non-starter. The sale is complete when the cash is in my hands and not one moment before.

In conclusion, you are a jerk. I hope you are robbed repeatedly until such time as you lose 10 times more than you have scammed out of any victims dumb enough to fall for your nonsense.

Sincerely,

Katze

Maybe Not the Wisest Choice

Is it just me, or was it really kind of poor taste for NPR to follow a story on the Somali pirates who stole an oil tanker by playing a clip of the theme song from Pirates of the Caribbean?

Pet Peeve

If you, as a speaker, want to lose my goodwill in an instant, just start your speech like this:

"Good Morning!"
[Pause for audience to respond]
"Hmmm, that wasn't very good. Let's try again./ (alternatively) I can't heeeeear you.

GOOD MORNING!"

[Pause for louder response]

"That's better!"

I promise you, I will be too busy trying to kill you with the hot firey hate in my eyes to listen to anything you have to say.

Bad Bumper Stickers

It was not a good day for bumper sticker philosophers in Our Fair City. On my morning commute, I was stuck behind an enormous pickup truck bearing the very dumb and illogical statement "Get my flag off of your foreign car". First of all? That big ol' truck you're driving? Is burning up foreign oil at the rate of between 9 and 14 miles per gallon, according to the manufacturer's website. And that foreign car that has the audacity to sport "your" flag was very likely assembled here in the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave and your "American" car was quite likely assembled from parts made in Mexico. It's called globalization and it's an inescapable fact of modern life.

Then we come to the tougher questions of philosophy here. Just who the hell do you think you are, claiming the flag of the United States of America for your own? What makes you think that you have the right to dictate who has the right to claim allegiance or affinity to that flag on any basis, let alone the basis of what kind of car they drive? And really, what is it that the patriotic among us say that the flag stands for? Freedom. Seems just a little contradictory to me that you might try to refuse someone the right to wave the flag of freedom just because you don't like their car.

And then, on the afternoon commute, we have this nonsensical and self-righteous gem from the other end of the political spectrum: "I'm already against the next war". What? That doesn't even make sense. Oh, wait. I guess you're trying to say that you're a pacifist and believe that there is no such thing as a just war. Fine. I think you're flat out wrong about that, but we could agree to disagree... but still. Shouldn't you wait until you know what you're protesting before you open your mouth to protest it? Otherwise you just dilute your message and start to sound like the teacher in a Peanuts TV special wahwah wah wah wah.

I can't wait for my shorter commute with no tunnel traffic. If I'm not stuck dragging along at 15 mph behind the same irritating bumper sticker for 10 or 15 minutes at a stretch, then maybe they won't cause my blood pressure to skyrocket.

Commerical Interruption

Apparently, fan clothing that bears the logo of a non-sponsor is a threat to the interests of the sponsors of the World Cup. I mean, I love commercialism as much as the next American, but really, this is a bit much. I don't understand how the mere presence of the non-sponsor logos waters down or negates the sponsors' publicity. The stupid ads around the field are still there, the announcers are still saying "Brought to you by Bigstupid Corp.!", the players' uniforms still have whatever company logos on them. Even in the numbers by which I am certain the Dutch fans were wearing those silly orange pants*, I can't imagine that the people out in TV land were going to suddenly stop drinking their Budweiser and run down to the store to buy some Bavaria or something.

*Once, I was camping in Italy during the EuroCup and Holland was playing against somebody. In a sitcom-esque coincidence, the Dutch schools had just let out for summer break and the whole campground was filled with Dutch families. That morning, it was like waking up in a Fanta factory: orange as far as the eye could see. Orange banners, orange t-shirts, orange hats, orange tablecloths... I wouldn't be surprised if every person also drank orange juice for breakfast that day. It was sheer lunacy.

Preaching To The Choir, I Suspect

It all started with this link, forwarded to me during an IM conversation with Eep.

Then, I followed this link to a page that puts it even more bluntly.

You're damn skippy! Jesus would be totally ashamed of a huge chunk of the people who have co-opted his name to spew hatred and discord. Not to mention the fact that I'd bet he'd be more interested in seeing these people use their time and money to do something that might actually help the sick, the poor, the downtrodden-- you know, the people that Jesus spent a huge part of his time here on Earth ministering to-- instead of buying giant banners and spending hours holding what is essentially a version of the Two Minutes Hate disguised as a prayer vigil.

I'm not a trained theologian. But I'm pretty sure that Jesus told us to love one another, and I'm equally certain that the things being said and done by the loudest members of the Religious Right have nothing whatsoever to do with love or with God.

Far More Than The Daily Allowance of Irony

I've been hired on a temporary, part time basis as a research assistant in the law library and I had to go in and fill out all the paperwork to be placed on payroll. There was the usual W4 and I9, plus a University form for demographic information. The university form annoyed me because it required you to choose from limited lists of possibilities for each answer, and under "Race", it listed "White", "African-American", "Asian", "Native American" and "Hispanic". Nothing for those from the Middle East, nothing for those who are of mixed heritage, very rigid and out of date concept of race.

What really took the cake, however, was the I9. For those who don't know, the I9 is the form you fill out that proves you have the right to accept work. You have to present some sort of documentation along with it, proving that you are who you say you are and have the status you claim to have. There are two sets of documents. Those documents in Group A are sufficient on their own-- for example, your U.S. passport proves that you are a U.S. citizen and also has your picture in it, so it's good enough. The documents in Group B require two different documents to be presented-- for example, your Social Security card and your driver's license. One proves you have the right to work and one proves you are who you claim you are. At the top of the form in big, bold letters, it says:

Employers CANNOT specify which document(s) they will accept from an employee.

Now, I should have been prepared, really, but to be honest, I'd totally forgotten about the I9. so I didn't bring my documents with me.The secretary processing my forms asked me for my school ID and my Social Security card. Now, I don't carry my Social Security card and I wasn't entirely certain that I knew exactly where it is, so I asked if I could just bring my passport instead. The secretary very kindly said no, the University requires your ID and your Social Security card and won't accept any other documents.

I gaped at her for a moment and started to say "But it says right on the form..." and she gave me a funny little half smile that told me she was perfectly aware of how stupid this was, but also perfectly powerless to do anything about it, and said "Yes. I know."

Why Hotmail Apparently Sucks

Yeah, yeah, I know: this is not exactly breaking news. Still, I never realized the extent of the suckitude until today.

I've got several email addresses: a gmail (which I only give to good friends), a yahoo (which used to be my primary address, but now gets more spam that I like, so it's been relegated to my general work/ school and family email-- because my sister signs me up for all kinds of "contests" that result in my getting more and more spam. Sigh.), and a hotmail that I use to register for things online. This was purposeful, because I don't want to get spam in the email that I use on a regular basis.

This has been my arrangement for the past two years or so, and it's mostly worked very well. However, I've often commented on the fact that I get less spam in my hotmail account, despite the fact that I throw it around the internet all willy-nilly, than I do in my yahoo account (and I've never once gotten spam in my gmail, which is why I guard it so zealously). Apparently, this is because hotmail trashes my mail without even dropping it into the "junk" mail folder.

I discovered this because I've been trying to sell some furniture on craigslist. I've been using my hotmail for the craigslist remailer because this is the habit I have. And up until now, I've never gotten a single response on the furniture I've been trying to sell off and on for a couple of months now. I decided to repost one of the listings because I really need to move the largest item NOW, and I slashed the price on it, thinking I'd been deluded about how much I could ask for it. This time around, though, I decided to use my yahoo because I'm reliant on dial up right now and it takes so effing long for hotmail pages to load that I can't stand it.

Lo and behold, I got ten responses in two hours, including two that said they'd emailed me in the past and never gotten a response.

Now, I did, in fact, wonder if Hotmail was spamming responses out, so I checked the junk mail folder as well as the inbox. Where the heck do the messages go when they don't end up in one of those two places?

Whatever. Hopefully one of these people will come and get my furniture and get it the heck out of my apartment. I'm so sick of looking at it and I can't wait to see how the place looks when it's not overfilled with furniture. I'm also very excited about getting my new-to-me stuff this weekend (upgrade!). And I will never use hotmail for the craigslist remailer again.

More Red State Madness

I am so tired of being embarrassed by my hometown.

But more than that, I'm also frightened that this could be the future.

Even if you yourself would never have an abortion, you should think long and hard about how these bans could impact your life and your freedom. Making abortion a felony? Making it a felony to give a woman a ride to another state so that she can have an abortion (presumably still legally in that state) a felony? How on earth do they plan to enforce that? Allow the police to stop and detain any pregnant woman on an interstate?

Spring Break By The Numbers

Days I did not leave the apartment: 4
Hours per day, on average, spent asleep: 12
Days I ran a fever of at least 100 degrees: 3
Boxes of Kleenex used: 3 1/2
Gallons of Orange juice consumed: 4 1/2 (Ash helped with that)
Cups of tea consumed, on average, per day: 6
Pages read for pleasure: approximately 4200
Amount of left over indian food consumed: seems like at least 5943 pounds
Loads of laundry I will do today to rid my room of germs: 3
Hours spent studying for the MPRE as of 3 p.m. today: 0
Hours left until I have to take the MPRE as of 3 p.m. today: 42
Bags of potato chips eaten due to intense craving for salty foods: 4
Flavors of potato chips eaten to satisfy craving: Salt and Vinegar, CheezUms (if a dairy product is spelled with a "z", you know it's good!), Plain (and they were gross).
Temptation to eat the ice cream in the freezer without waiting for Ash: very high
Things I forgot at the grocery store this morning: 2 (milk and whipped cream)
Times I tried on shoes today, excited because they were exactly what I want and in stock in my size: 5
Times those shoes actually fit: 0
Piles of dirty laundry, including underwear, left on the communal laundry table, presumably by the new tenant (based on content of said laundry and knowledge of other tenants in building: 3
Plastic grocery bags of garbage left in the laundry room with rotting food in them: 2
Level of irritation at inconsiderate behavior in a communal area: very high
Probability that I will call the landlord to complain if the situation doesn't improve sharp-like: high

Remedial Potty Training

Four stalls in the ladies’ room of a building frequented almost exclusively by adults with a minimum of a Bachelor’s degree. One with an unflushed toilet full of excrement. One with no toilet paper. One with urine splashed all over the seat. Why is this concept so difficult for people to understand?

And This Is Effective How?

Do you know what happens to people who eat nothing but unhealthy food, don't exercise, and don't get enough sleep? I'll tell you: they get every stupid bug that comes along. Seven days in the house with three unhealthy adults and I'm fighting a cold that I refuse-- REFUSE!-- to get. This is my free week, possibly the last truly free week that I'll have until after the Bar Exam, and I want to spend it doing things that are fun, not blowing my nose and feeling too crappy to get up off the sofa.

So, I headed to Tarjhay with War with the intention of buying some cold medicine to stomp on the symptoms before they have a chance to get bad, as well as picking up some nice, soft Kleenex, orange juice and chicken noodle soup to supplement the eighty gallons of hot tea and honey I already had at home. I suscribe to the carpet bombing theory of cold management. All was well until we got to the cold remedy aisle. I had a coupon for a specific kind and was mystified by the fact that I couldn't seem to find this brand-- a major brand, not something obscure-- anywhere among the numerous boxes in the well-stocked aisle. Then I noticed the rack of small plastic cards with the names and pictures of some cold remedies and a sign saying to take the tag to the Pharmacy to obtain those products.

One problem: it's New Year's Day and the Pharmacy was closed.

For a wild moment, I thought I might just take the card to the Service Desk and ask them to get the medicine for me, just like I can get my photos even when the Photo Center is closed. After all, the medication is an over-the-counter product that does not require a license or anything to dispense. Then I noticed the second sign: "THESE PRODUCTS ARE NOT AVAILABLE WHEN PHARMACY IS CLOSED". Great.

Now, I understand that many places have moved products containing pseudoephedrine to locked cases and so on to prevent them from being used in the production of methanphetamines. I do not agree with this. The whole point of over the counter medication is that you don't have to get it from a pharmacist. You can walk right into the store, pick it up, and buy it.

Oh, the safety of the public is at stake!

Well, you don't have to get someone to unlock the ammonia or the bags of fertilzer at the garden center.

So there I am, sick and pissed off. I suppose I should have been happy to do my part to "protect society", but all I want is to get relief for my stuffed head and streaming nose. We went next door to the Horribly Overpriced Chain Store to see if I could get the drugs there or else maybe there was a pharmacist on duty there that could give me the over-the-counter drugs that I shouldn't have to have dispensed by a pharmacist. Lo and behold, the drugs were right there on the shelf.

So let's review:

Sick person unable to get medication, which is legally available to her, but which has been made unavailable not by state or federal regulators or legislators, but rather by someone at a mass merchandiser's corporate offices.

Those interested in obtaining the medication not for its intended purpose can do so by walking less than 500 feet to the next store.

Those interested in other, more nefarious activities can obtain the materials to do so from the first retailer.

Yes, now I feel safer.

Preach It, Brother

Immigration judges have too much discretion and not enough oversight. The lack of a meaningful appeals process and the removal of judicial review for many, many of their decisions has bred abuses that ought to outrage us-- but they don't because for most of us, it's something that has no impact on everyday life, and because many people have the knee-jerk reaction of "well, just go back where you came from, then" without giving any thought at all to whether the results are fair or just. What this says about us as a nation, I am afraid to ponder for too long.

Dereliction of Duty

Emptying the lint trap on a dryer is the most difficult job in the world. I base this conclusion on the fact that I am the only person of at least ten adults in my apartment building who is capable of doing so. Now, normally, I don’t expect you mere mortals to measure up to my superhuman abilities, but I sort of thought that emptying the lint trap was something you puny humans are capable of.

Obviously, I was wrong. And I apologize for my unfair expectations.

In the future, I will be certain to do my duty and check the lint trap on a regular basis to ensure that everyone will be able to dry their clothes in an efficient manner that will not raise the threat of a fire that could burn the building down. (I’d just put the fire out, but when they were handing out super powers, apparently, I got stuck with “cleaning lint traps”. I think I got screwed.)

Here In My Car... and the Bus

She sat down on the bench, reached into her shoulder bag, and produced a bulging makeup kit from its depths. I watched in horrified fascination as she began to slather on foundation. What is it that makes people think that it’s appropriate to conduct large parts of their grooming routines in public? There are some things that are meant for the privacy of your home.

She pulled out a ratty looking brush and scrubbed it into a bright pink blush, then rubbed it briskly and roughly across her cheeks, creating a broad swath of utterly unnatural color on either side of her face.

We’ve all seen the commercials that play to the stereotype of the commuter shaving in the car (or worse yet, in the carpool). What you do in your car is bad enough, especially if you are in the act of operating the car at the same time. But at least you are nominally separated from your fellow man, I suppose. People who do these types of things in the close confines of public transportation are, in my considered opinion, rude and gross.

A large palette of eye shadow was produced and a complicated series of dabs and swabs of different, not necessarily complimentary colors was begun, resulting in a very strange, 1960’s-Cher-esque look.

My own special pet peeve in this regard is people who do things to their nails—finger or toe, equally gross—in public. I’m not talking about someone who breaks a nail and uses the emory board to do a quick smoothing of the resulting rough edge, though I wouldn’t necessarily want them to do it at the dinner table. What I mean is more the woman who got on the Metro early one August morning and filed her nails the entire way from Rockville into town. The sound is incredibly irritating to begin with, like (if you’ll forgive the expression) fingernails on a chalkboard. Worse yet, I could practically see the cloud of pulverized fingernail rising around her and dissipating in all directions, including toward me, making me want to simultaneously cover my mouth and nose with my shirt to keep from breathing in her fingernails and puke at the thought of the possibility of breathing in her fingernails.

I have never seen someone lacquer on mascara like that. Up and down, up and down, layer after Tammy Faye layer. How does she get it all off at night? Oh, God, she’s going back for another coat, this time holding the mascara wand vertically, presumably to ensure that each individual lash gets its full rightful share of mascara.

Miss Manners and Emily Post agree with me on this point. It is permissible to touch up your lipstick, provided it is done discretely, but nothing more. No foundation, no masacara, and if you want to powder your nose, well, there’s a reason why they sometimes call the ladies room a “powder room”. I like to sleep in late as much as the next person, quite possibly even more. I am a busy woman with a very, very full schedule. But I make sure to get up in enough time to complete my beauty routine in my bathroom. If I don’t get up in time to put on makeup, then I don’t wear makeup, and surprisingly enough, the world doesn’t come to a screeching halt. I can almost guarantee that it wouldn’t happen to any of these other people either.

Lip liner is not supposed to be a shade darker than your lipstick. I thought everyone knew that. And Dear Lord, how many brushes do you need to apply lipstick to such a thin set of lips?

Look Out, The Grammar Police Are Coming!

One of my language pet peeves is people who misuse the word “whenever”—specifically, those who substitute “whenever” for “when”. ATTENTION! The sentence “Whenever the child has been placed for adoption, the records were sealed” imples that a)the child was placed for adoption on multiple occasions and b) each time the child was placed for adoption, the records were sealed. Technically, this set of facts could happen. However, they DIDN’T. The child was only placed for adoption ONCE. Therefore, the condition set forth in section a) has not been met. Your sentence is WRONG.

To recap:
Whenever is not a synonym for when. “ ’s ” does not denote a plural. Quotation marks are not for emphasis, and if you advertise “Fresh” Produce on your store windows, I will have grave doubts about the purchase of comestibles from your establishment.

Thank you and goodnight.