Another Retailer is Fired

I was expecting this blog post to be in regards to my afinity for our new XM Radio subscription. More on that later. Instead, this post is about my firing of Best Buy.

I'm typically not an instant gratification guy. Whenever I make a purchase of anything that costs more than about $50, I'll spent a ton of time - probably too much time - researching it to death. I'm not a tight ass; rather, I just want to make absolutely sure I'm spending my hard-earned money on a good product that satisfies my needs and will last for a long time.

Then, once the decision is made, I act. At that point, I want my shit. The decision may be a long time in the making, but once made, time is suddenly of the essence.

I wanted XM a couple years ago but Katy thought it was stupid to pay a subscription fee for radio when there was plenty of radio available for free. Fair enough. I let it drop.

Fast forward a couple years. We buy Katy a new vehicle that comes with 3 free months of XM. All of 48 hours pass before Katy is XM's newest and biggest fan. One thing leads to another and about two weeks ago, we decide to subscribe. We're not talking big dollars here - it's a fucking $12.95/month subscription for Christ's sake - so who cares...

Since my car doesn't have XM built in, I bought a receiver with the intent of installing a cradle in both vehicles and buying a dock for the house. The installation of my car came first and was done just last weekend. It works beautifully and I love it.

On the same day, I went to Best Buy to purchase my well-researched dock for the house. Out of stock! Damn it. They offer to order it for me and say "...it'll be in on Thursday the 16th." So I go to pick up my dock today and I immediately know something is amiss. Fat bitch behind the Customer Service counter turns to the cage where they keep such things locked up. I can see from my position that there's nothing closely resembling my product in the cage. There's a vaccuum cleaner, some Bose speakers, two Wii Fits, and one small unidentifiable package that's in a plain brown cardboard box. No XM dock.

Fat bitch goes to the computer terminal ten feet away, calls over the Customer Service ring leader, and points to the screen while they speak in hushed tones. I stand staring, head cocked to the side, trying to put on my best pissed off customer expression. Fat bitch sees this and appears completely unfazed.

She returns with a new receipt in hand and says, "Looks like it'll be here on the 23rd. Sorry." "I won't be here on the 23rd...can I get a refund please?" is my response. She offers up an explanation that, "whoever keyed this in for you did it wrong" as if that would somehow make everything OK. "That's unfortunate because I'd really like my dock today, but I guess I'll settle for a refund."

I should've just ordered the fucker from Amazon to begin with. Why I dicked around with Best Buy when it wasn't in stock, I don't know. What I do know is, I'm not going back for a while! They're fired. I just fail to understand why a transaction so damn simple can be so hard. WTF?

Pure Genius

Oh my. The "Livin' Large" series in this blog is perhaps the single most entertaining piece of writing I've consumed in quite some time.

I've found the entire series (there are eight parts as of this writing) absolutely riveting. Perhaps it's due to my familiarity with the players in the story and the venue, or perhaps anybody could read this and find it both interesting and funny, but I am an absolute addict.

My early morning routine at the office now consists of: (1) Logging into my PC, (2) getting a cup of coffee while my laptop boots up, (3) firing up a browser and immediately pointing it to this site to see if there's an update. I find myself being disappointed if there isn't one.

Uproariously funny stuff. The author doesn't call out any last names (aside from his own), but if you're a Purdue fan, you will know the people and you will know the location. Not only is the material highly entertaining, but the guy's writing is exceptional as well. He has a knack for dead-pan humor that is tough to pull off in written words, but he does it and does it superbly.

I was in my first of two senior years at the time this story took place. It happened in the dorm I lived in three years earlier. I also had a good friend who was a student trainer for this particular team and some of the stories I remember him telling, when combined with this information, just make it all the more funny.

Give it a read; I promise you won't be disappointed.

Fat Bastard Update

Yeah, it's been a while, hasn't it? I've been avoiding this post for a while, but it can be procrastinated no longer.

As the graph at the bottom of the page clearly illustrates, we (yes, we're all in this together) have hit a bit of a plateau. The latest data point even suggests a bit of an uptick. If you look closely, you'll also notice that there were a couple missing weigh-ins since the last recorded weight.

As much fun as YDR was, it did my weight loss effort no favors. Knowing what I was in for, I weighed myself on the Wednesday night before we left and again on the Monday morning after returning. I went from 211.5 to 219.5 in four days! Eight pounds!!! In four days!! That, my friends, is a clear example of what beer can do. There were some hefty meals in there too, including a couple breakfast buffets that consisted of biscuits and gravy, sausage, bacon, etc. That didn't help. But I have no doubt that probably five to six of those eight pounds can be attributed directly to the mass - and I do mean mass - consumption of alcohol that weekend.

There's good news: I'm back on the righteous path. This morning's weigh-in had me back down to a more reasonable 213.5, so I've recovered 75% of the weight gained on the trip. Also in the win column is the fact that I'm still below my target weight for this date and am very much on track to hit my goal of 200 lbs. by the end of October.

Danger lurks around the corner, however. Experience tells me the cruise in mid-August could be a killer, and then there are all those beer guzzling Purdue football Saturdays that commence in early September.

I absolutely must return from the cruise on August 23rd weighing no more than 212 lbs. That'll give me about 10 weeks to drop 12 lbs., which I believe to be achievable. Considering I started this on March 9th, I'm four months in with three and a half to go. I've lost almost exactly 2/3 of the weight I had hoped to lose. There's plenty of time, so no excuses...

Mother Nature Screws the 4th

Independence Day is perhaps my favorite holiday. Christmas ranks right up there, but Independence Day comes without all of the demands on my family to travel far and wide across the Great Lakes region to make everybody except us happy. The 4th of July holiday can typically be relied upon for sun, warm weather, barbeque, cold beverages, a generally festive neighborhood atmosphere, and, of course, fireworks.

The downside to the 4th of July is that one's enjoyment level often correlates directly to the weather. Well this year's weather was the ass. It started raining about noon and didn't stop until sometime in the middle of the night. It did slow to a light sprinkle for a few minutes around 10:00 P.M.; just enough for the neighbors to empty their arsenals, which made for an impressive spectacle of amateur pyrotechnics when compressed into a 20 minute window of opportunity.

But otherwise, the day was a total loss and I have deemed Mother Nature a full-on whore who will have to deliver a full autumn of spectacular football Saturdays to redeem her bitch ass. I'm bitter and disappointed!

Happy Independence Day

Have a safe and happy 4th of July, everyone!

YDR '09 Deemed a Smashing Success

You know, there are many things for which words are simply inadequate. Last weekend's trip to West Virginia for the annual YDR event was no exception.

Long story short: we drank beer, cooked out, drank beer, went whitewater rafting on the New River, drank beer, cranked out some 80s and 90s rock tunes, drank beer, grilled out again, drank beer, played a lot of cornhole, and - oh, did I mention - drank beer. Stories of success, each and every one.

The rafting adventure was the trip's centerpiece and was a great time. We had a cool guide, who not only appreciated our rude and crude behavior, but capably participated.

Six of the eight of us, including yours truly, got ejected from the raft, but only once unwillingly (there were a couple "swimmer's rapids" we were allowed to swim through). It's rather disorienting to be thrown unsuspectingly into raging whitewater and churned around beneath the surface for a few seconds before bobbing to the top, gagging out the water you inevitably inhaled, and gasping for breath. Sounds like a great time, eh? Fairly serious stuff. There were several times when, going into a rapid, we were told by the guide where to swim if thrown out and to do so "...as though your life depends on it." Alrighty then! There is video of that event in the possession of a fellow attendee. If all goes well, I'll eventually get it posted on YouTube for all to see.

Oh - I mentioned above that we cranked out some tunes from our younger days. Sticking with the "words can't describe it" theme, I'll merely leave you with this (take note of the t-shirt also). Even those of you who don't know this individual will probably get a chuckle out of it. For those of you who have the pleasure of being acquainted with the subject of this video, prepare to wipe the tears of laughter from your eyes.

One Powerful Piece of Ass...

Not many people grow through their teens and early twenties without witnessing desperate attempts on behalf of some guy they know to get laid. Think of your college years.

Without outing anybody, I had a good friend in Chicago - we'll call him "Steve" to protect the not-remotely-innocent - who would go to incredible lengths to score. I've never seen anything quite like it. As you might imagine a man drowning with his nose a mere inch below the water line might struggle for a breath of air, his effort would pale in comparison to "Steve's" never-ending crusade for a hook-up.

That being said, I don't think even "Steve" would fly to Buenos fucking Aires (!!!) just to screw somebody. Holy shit, Mark Sanford!! That's not a sex drive, that's an 8-hour sex flight!!

I sure hope that was one incredible piece of ass...